A/N: A lot of you guys have asked for this, and really it was only inspiration from a song that hindered it's production. But I found the song, and wrote it. I'm thinking of a third installment now, but I make no promises. This series has kind of turned in to a way to get my creative juices flowing between my other stories, so I'm just going to keep it as these kinds of installments. Thanks to everyone who reviewed , alerted, and favorite I don't Love you. I always appreciate criticism too guys.
Warnings: I don't own Glee or any of the characters or any of the songs I may use. Cursing of sailing proportions. This will include lesbian sex, maybe some hetero but it's not likely. Finn bashing.
Can't say I was shocked. It was bound to happen. Their relationship was as volatile as it had always been, ready to explode at the slightest force, and contrary to popular suspicion, it wasn't my fault this time. This time it was their own damn faults. Finn couldn't build a relationship on lust, and Rachel couldn't make it last on her naïve ideas of love, or her need to be popular. I wasn't entirely sure what she expected from Finn. Either way, their "love," as they called it, didn't last much more than a couple weeks before one of them fucked up again. That just left me as the one to deal with Rachel's apologetic glances, and damn if I didn't have to resist them.
I really had begun to believe I was in love with her. I still was. More than atonement for my mistakes with Brittany, I thought she was my chance to be in a real relationship. The long rants that used to annoy me beyond words became an adorable reaction I found myself encouraging. Uptight behavior became reason for me to challenge her to break simple rules. Even though you wouldn't expect it, with all the morons she had to call to attest to it, the small girl was an amazing kisser. I knew that Finn and Puck were hardly what I'd call good in bed and I doubted St. Jerk face had much to do with the gentle embraces and almost expert kisses I'd experienced with Rachel. Sometimes I'd even catch myself thinking that Rachel was worth waiting for, but the more honest I was, I saw myself being the one she gave it up to, rather, hoped I'd be the one worth it.
I wanted, no needed, to get her off of my mind for a while so, of course, when Puck called with the promise of beer I'd found my way. To some extent I had to admit to myself I wasn't the most subtle with my love interests, and storming out of the choir room after Rachel broke it off with someone who obviously wasn't Finn wasn't the best idea. Puck had been the only one to come forward and question it. I still remember the night; it was a couple days after Rachel's performance and I hadn't been to glee or spoken to anybody. My friend came to my window, as he had on many more happy occasions, with his usual ammunition in hand.
}{
I lay in bed for a good five minutes wondering how long I'd have to lay there before Puck went away, taking the soft click of the pebbles he threw with him. It seemed to be working until my phone started blaring. The tapping against my window continued and finally I went and opened it, hissing, "What the fuck do you want Puckerman?"
"It's not what I want, it's what you need," he gave a familiar cheeky grin until I started closing the window again. His hushed voice was slightly worried, "Wait! Don't. I want to talk."
I ducked my head out again and questioned, "Talk about what?"
"Rachel," he offered.
I seriously contemplated shutting the window and going back to bed again. If I had I'd have probably just moped in my bed until I fell asleep, so seeing the serious offer on my friends face, I let him up and into the room. He crashed on my bed as he always had since we were young, for anything ranging from the rare and insightful talks I found so helpful, to the not so innocent rendezvous we'd shared. I fell on next to him, finding comfort in the familiarity of our positions.
"So, are you going to make this easy and admit something's going on or just deny it for the next hour?" He wondered, looking over at me.
I glared up at the boy, genuinely contemplating the latter for a moment before groaning.
"So," he started, "My Chemical Romance is pretty freaking tragic, but I'm guessing you were upset about more than Rachel picking some emo song to sing."
"It was that obvious?" I asked dryly.
"Well, I'm not their biggest fan either but I wouldn't, like, storm out of Rachel's performance just for that," he shrugged.
I hit his side, "Shut up."
He slipped his arm around me and hugged me slightly, "It's cool. You're, like, my best friend or whatever, we're supposed to talk and share shit, right?"
"Before or after the sex?" I groaned.
"I didn't know it was an option, but," he reached down for his belt and I paused his hands.
"I'll talk," I assured, "We can share."
He chuckled and brought his arm back up to rest his head on, "Figured that would speed this up."
"Whatever," I rolled my eyes, "But yeah, it wasn't just that she picked the most emo song she could find, by a band that wears more makeup than me."
"The fact that she wasn't singing to Finn?" He asked, more serious now.
I nodded weakly, "He's an idiot."
"He's not the sharpest tool in the shed, but he can be a nice guy," Puck defended.
I could already feel the lines being permanently etched into my face with all the scowling I was doing, "That's just it, he's a tool. He used me, he used Rachel, and he used Quinn."
"And you've just spent your entire high school career rescuing kittens and helping old ladies cross streets," he argued.
I was up and out of the bed before he had to urge me to calm down, "But I've never used her."
"You just made her life a living hell," he reminded.
If looks could kill, Puck would have burned under my gaze, "You don't think I know that? I know what I put her through. I know that it was my fault, but I never got her hopes up, never made her think I cared, just to let her fall flat on her ass."
He nodded silently, understanding reaching his features before stating, "Fuck her."
"Puck even if I had any hope that that was happening, it wouldn't exactly put my mind at ease," I sighed wearily.
"No, I mean fuck her. Yeah, she'll always be my fellow hot Jew, but she fucked you over. I mean, you're bitchy, mean, violent, borderline evil-"
"I get it; not the nicest person. Get to the point," I urged, waving him on.
He nodded, "But out of everyone she's forgiven, you're the only one she's really fucked over, aside from that Sunshine chick, she hasn't done anything like send you to a crack house."
"Ignoring the fact that I have enough sense to Google maps any address you try to send me to, you're right."
"So fuck her, forget her San, just keep on keepin' on," he encouraged.
I moved to sit back on the edge of the bed, "Yeah."
He tugged me down for a hug.
}{
I made the familiar drive to Puck's place, parking just behind his truck. We settled on the couch downstairs, beers in hand as I waited for whatever insightful probing or idiotic plan my friend had for the night. Puck was unpredictable. At times he was nothing more than a horn-dog looking for his next lay, other times he could be the best friend in the world. I didn't really get any hints as to what direction he was going until we were both nursing our fourth cans of the night staring at some stupid reality show.
"I could see you on there," he pointed out, "You'd probably be the one pulling hair."
I rolled my eyes, "No way, I'm the one in the corner tryin' to figure out how to get the hair-puller kicked out of the house."
He watched for a few more moments before nodding, "Totally."
"Change it," I waved him on, "I can feel my brain cells dying."
"No way it could be the beer," he argued, lifting the remote to the small television.
He clicked through a few channels and I was starting to relax when he passed something that caught my attention right away, "Wait, go back!"
"To the country channel?" He wondered.
I hit his arm, "Just go the fuck back."
"Fine," he groaned, putting it back on the channel.
On the screen, some couples ran around each other looking longingly at one another while they sang. I knew the song from somewhere but I couldn't quite place it. The lyrics filtered in the haze that was my brain while I continued trying to listen. It wasn't until the song was almost over and I heard Puck humming it from next to me that I knew why it was so familiar.
"You two sang it together, huh?"
He looked confused for a moment before understanding crossed his features, "Yeah, one time."
I looked down at the empty can in my hand nibbling my lip before standing up.
"Whoa, hold on, where do you think you're going?" He asked as he caught me by the arm.
"Home," I lied, pulling my keys out of my pocket.
"The hell you are," he snatched my keys, "You're staying on the couch."
"Your mom-" I tried to argue.
"I'll deal. Rather not let you crash, or do anything else stupid," he stood up, pushing me back onto the couch, "You know where the blankets and stuff are."
"But-"
"Stay down here," he ordered. "You can have these back in the morning," he waved my keys before me, pulling them back as I swiped for them.
"Screw you," I groaned.
"Try me when you're sober," he showed that usual stupid grin.
"Since when do you care?" I asked, obviously upset.
"Since you're drunk 'cause you're pissed instead of for fun," he announced.
"Whatever."
He just gave me a softer smile before heading upstairs.
I made my way, a bit unsteadily, to the linen basket that Mrs. Puckerman kept downstairs. I grabbed a blanket before heading back to the couch and lying down. I was anything but pleased at having to stay there but got as comfortable as I could anyway. I can't say how much time passed but with so much tossing and turning I couldn't fall asleep. What really kept me up were the lyrics of that damn song, running through my head, over and over again. Finally I pulled out my phone and after squinting at it for a few moments I discerned that it was well past a quarter after one, and I was definitely more than just a little drunk. I scrolled through my contacts, knowing I wouldn't make this call sober.
"Hello," a weary voice answered. I could hear a yawn on the other end, "I hope this is of particular importance considering it is well past two o'clock and granted, this is a Saturday night, a good night's rest is still important."
"Shut up," I couldn't help but laugh lowly at that, "Only you would have so much to say at two."
"San?" Her voice sounded more surprised.
"Yeah," I answered, feeling myself growing shy. I shouldn't have called, but I couldn't make myself hang up.
"Well," She seemed nervous, "As I mentioned, it's particularly late for such a call."
"I know," I said, undeterred by the time, "But it's sort of like the song."
She was confused, "What song?"
"The one- you- with Puck," I mumbled, "I'm drunk and it's way past a quarter after one and I-" I couldn't finish.
"Oh."
"I hate it when you say that," I mumbled, finally growing tired, "I mean you're Berry, you aren't supposed to run out of shit to say."
"Why did you call?" She asked, more curious than accusing, maybe even hopeful.
"'Cause I'm at Puck's and that stupid song and I can't sleep," I unleashed the mass of thoughts before wondering, "I said drunk right, 'cause the song said something about it."
"Yes, you mentioned drunk," she assured, "Where's Noah?"
"Upstairs. He took my keys but I wanted to leave," I whined, "I just want to go to my bed," another thought occurred to me, "Or yours."
I could almost imagine her blushing, "Would you like me to come get you?"
I should have said no but when she offered the only thought running through my mind was of the soft pink comforter I could easily see myself curling up under, "Could you?"
"I only live up the street from Noah," I could hear the motion as she shifted from her bed and pulled on her coat. "Stay awake, okay?" She ordered and I heard the familiar creak of her stairs in the background.
"Mhum," at the mention of my consciousness my eyelids began to droop but I stayed up to question, "Will you sing it for me?"
"Sing what?"
"The song? Without Puck though, he took my damn keys," I ended the sentence with a groan.
"Of course, but I have to hang up for a moment," I heard a gentle knocking, both from the phone and from upstairs.
I nodded silently, letting the phone fall out of my hand when she did.
I heard Puck upstairs, answering the door and urging Rachel to be quiet. At the top of the stairs he stopped her, telling her to wait. I heard his receding footsteps, he'd always been heavy-footed, and her approaching ones before I felt her hand stroking my hair.
"San, I'm here," she breathed, trying to ease me awake.
"Hey," I smiled, "You're going to sing right?"
"Yeah but let's get you home first."
Puck came back and tossed her the keys before picking me up and mumbling, "I'm taking your phone next time."
He carried me out to my car quickly and Rachel would have taken the driver's seat just as quickly had Puck not called her back. She turned to look at him, his features were serious and a little upset, even with his own buzz. Rachel, however, tried to stay together, but uncertainty was peeking through. I wanted to know what they were talking about; me, of course, but what specifically. They spoke for quite a while, until Puck seemed to have ended the discussion. Rachel's shoulders slumped with what almost looked like shame and she nodded, finally giving in to what Puck had to say. She slipped into the car and pulled on her seat belt.
"What'd Puck want?" I questioned.
She shook her head, distantly I noticed the glassiness of her eyes, "He simply requested that I get you home alright."
I nodded, accepting her answer, not even realizing that Rachel wasn't pestering me as she usually would about the hazards of not putting on my seatbelt.
It was a quick ride to Rachel's house, and it did take me a minute to realize it was her house. She slid an arm around my waist as she led me inside; not bothering to be quiet as she led me through the halls and past the portraits of her and the men I knew weren't even there. I found myself tripping up the stairs and knew I'd find some new bruises in the morning, but as I fell onto Rachel's soft bed and kicked off my shoes I couldn't be bothered to care.
"They're out of town again?" I asked distractedly as I moved further on to the bed and nuzzled a star shaped pillow.
"What?" She asked as she dug through her drawer, "Oh, yes."
"I hate when they do that," I mumbled into the pillow.
"Why?" She asked so quietly I wasn't entirely certain she'd made a sound
"You're lonely all day at school; you shouldn't have to be alone here too."
I didn't really notice when she left but when she came back I couldn't help but lean into the soft and definitely not manly hands that stroked my cheek, "San, sit up," She encouraged, "I have some water for you." Her voice was rougher than before and when I could actually be bothered to open my eye I noticed to puffiness around her eyes and the tracks that certainly hadn't been running down her cheeks before.
I took the offered glass and drank slowly, hoping to meet her eyes, or rather, the glimmering pools I could barely make out past the haze. She didn't look at me until I reached out with the hand not gripping a glass by my lap and wiping her eyes. "You didn't have to come get me."
She smiled weakly and reached up, cupping my hand to her cheek, "I wanted to."
"I can go if you're upset," I offered.
She laughed wearily through a new round of tears, "The infamous Santana, worried about upsetting Rachel "Man-hands" Berry."
I felt my face fall at that and pulled my hand back, gripping the glass with both now as I ran my thumbs over the lip.
"I'm sorry," she sighed and took the glass, "It's just-" I wasn't sure what I expected her to say, "I'm deflecting."
"It's cool," it wasn't, but I nodded as if I were trying to convince myself, "I get it. I'm not the nicest person in the world," and that's about when the worst part of any drunken affair for me began, "I can be a bitch," the waterworks always started off slowly, "I can be spiteful and angry."
There was worry in her voice as she recognized what was happening, "Santana."
"Finn's a lot fucking nicer than me," I sniffed, "But only on the surface. If he didn't have that stupid gassy baby grin nobody would like him nearly as much."
"Baby, calm down," she urged, stroking my hair.
I turned away the beginnings of sobs reaching my voice, "I mean, y-yeah, he was just using you for whatever b-but he didn't make your life hell."
She tried rubbing my back but it only made the sobs come harder.
"An-and you cou-could probably do better than both of us on a g-good day, b-but at least he wasn't a tot-total bitch on a da-daily basis." The sobs were so forceful they urged me forward slightly with each breath.
"San, baby, you have to calm down," she urged still rubbing my back and looking around hopefully.
"Then Finnocence went and ha-had to be a total di-dick and you two broke up ag-gain," I had to pause for a moment, "And you're just here alone and you have to babysit me.
It shouldn't have, it really shouldn't have worked, but Rachel knew me well enough that it did. Her lips were on mine and the labored breaths I'd been heaving calmed slowly as she kept up the soothing motion of her hand on my back and mimicked it gently on my cheek as our lips moved in tandem.
I couldn't explain the look on my face when she finally pulled back. Confusion. Lust. Hope. Confusion might have been the most dominant though.
"I didn't know how else to calm you down," she mumbled silently, the tear tracks on her cheeks renewed.
I gnawed my lip watching her nervously.
"I broke up with him," she finally offered.
"What?" I asked through puffy, heavily lidded eyes.
"It wasn't the same," she shook her head, "Rather, it wasn't what I expected."
I watched her curiously, not even bothering to wipe my eyes.
"It should have been sweet, and I should have felt like I was in love again."
"Why didn't you?" I wondered.
She worried her lip gently, as if she were trying to make a decision, "Do you still want me to sing to you?"
I wanted to push for the answer to my question, but I wanted to hear her sing so much more. I nodded gently and let her help me under the comforter I'd fantasized about before pulling my head against her chest. She started humming first, it was soft and comforting. Her fingers stroked through my hair gently and I closed my eyes as she started singing.
"Picture perfect memories And I wonder if I
Scattered all around the floor
Reaching for the phone 'cause
I can't fight it anymore
Ever cross your mind
For me it happens all the time"
}{
I don't know for sure what I was expecting when I woke up. Regret, maybe. A hangover, of course. Hell, when I realized there was a body next to me, I knew there was a myriad of ways it could end; me getting kicked out, me getting yelled out, me trying to remember the night before. But when I tugged the blanket over my head down with a groan and recognized the bright pink accessory I couldn't help but freeze. The girl next to me was still asleep, and I couldn't make myself stop staring at her. I'd thought about this so often in recent weeks. Missing being with her, waking up in this stupid pink blanket, and keeping her company when her useless dads took their all too regular vacations, and now, here I was, in her bed watching her sleep.
I should have been embarrassed when she turned over and caught me staring. I should have looked away but I still couldn't. Her eyes were as red-rimmed as I'm sure mine were. She just met my gaze though and I could tell she was having a hard time not looking away. We stayed like that for a while, just waiting for one to look away, and she was the first. Her eyes flickered to the door.
"Are you going to go?" She breathed.
"I should."
"Do you want to?" She sounded so innocent, but I knew that was just a defense.
It was such a gentle motion that I wouldn't have been sure she noticed it if it weren't for her subtle, "Oh."
I pulled my legs up to my chest slightly, barely registering I was still in my clothes from the night before, and rubbed my temple slightly, a headache settling behind my eyes. The room was deathly silent for a while and I was grateful for the blinds over the windows. I didn't want to leave but my instincts said to run. Finally I settled on questioning, "I didn't say anything stupid did I?"
"Nothing worth repeating," she offered her voice warmer than it was the night before.
I groaned lowly, "I could have called anybody…"
"But it wouldn't have followed the song," she teased lightly.
My next groan was even louder, "Stupid fucking song."
"Well if you hadn't heard it, you wouldn't have called," she reminded.
"I know."
She was silent. When I turned to see her she looked so disappointed.
"What did you expect Rachel? That I'd be happy to be here? That I wanted to be the pathetic drunk crawling back to the girl that fucked me over?"
She shook her head, "I thought I'd gotten a second chance."
"Yeah, well," I scoffed, "I thought I'd gotten one too."
She looked close to tears again.
I got off the bed and grabbed my shoes. My keys were on the nightstand so I took them before going to the door.
My hand was on the door knob when I felt hers covering mine and her forehead pressed to my back. Her other arm slipped around my waist and I felt the shuddering that told me she was trying not to cry, "You shouldn't have called."
"I know," I breathed.
"No," She shook her head furiously, and I felt the wetness in the back of my shirt, "I mean, I should have been the one to call."
"Why?" I asked skeptically.
"Because I'm the one that needs you now."
The song I used is Need You Now by Lady Antebellum.