If there was one thing that Wesley Montgomery was good at, it was building himself up to spectacular heights before watching his world crumble around him.

This wasn't the first time.

That's not to say that he couldn't see the humour in it all. His looking after Blaine was what had attracted Santana in the first place…

"You know, I've always found doctors to be kinda hot." She leant forwards, whispering, her lips brushing past his earlobe.

… So of course, on their first date, he'd find himself with his dominant arm trapped in a sling and his sinuses still tingling with the monster of a cold said kid had so generously passed on to him.

Okay, so it hadn't started too badly, he supposed. David had "borrowed" his father's luxury sedan, acting as chauffeur for the night. They'd picked up Santana and David had dropped them at Thai Grille – a tiny restaurant near the lake, where they would take a stroll and have a picnic for dessert. But that's when it started going downhill.

First of all, Wes had somehow managed to forget when making the booking that he couldn't use his left hand… and that he could barely use chopsticks with that hand anyway… Though being fed by that absolute goddess almost – almost – made up for his embarrassment.

Next, he'd discovered he couldn't actually hold a picnic basket and Santana's hand. He tried. Really, he did. He wanted to be a gentleman. But the basket was too heavy for his shoulder, and too awkward on his elbow with an arm wrapped around her waist… so he'd basically forced her to carry it while they walked along.

Then, when they'd found a nice spot to sit, he couldn't open the sparkling cider. With a, "Here, sugar, let me help," Santana had popped the cork – which had gone flying through the air, hitting him square on the forehead – really not helping his already-throbbing head.

So Santana, entertaining one of her many strange fantasies, had begun kissing the lump already forming, working her way slowly down his face, his lips, his ear, his jaw, his neck… before whipping her head away, sneezing.

"Choo. Choo. Hik'choo!" A laugh began to form on her face. "You're wearing jasmine, aren't you?"

"Oh, God." Wes nodded. His new cologne… "I'm so sorry, Santana." Without thinking, his arm went to stroke her hair apologetically. Big mistake. "Ow…." He groaned, right hand flying from Santana's waist to his shoulder as his left fell back down in the sling. "So, do I make the Worst Date Ever list?"

"Hey, don't get ahead of yourself, James Hook." Santana smiled, hot air from her whispers tickling Wes' ear. "At least I don't have to worry about wandering hands for the time being." She looked at him, slightly cross-eyed, before blinking and tilting her head back. "I'm only in it for that amazing tongue of yours anyway." They kissed, starting smooth and sweet, but then deepening, her tongue lashing out, brushing the back of his teeth and, oh, God, how was it fair for something like that to be so amazing?

But Santana must have been pretty allergic to jasmine, because the next instant she'd whipped away again, sneezing into her hands. Wes laughed, shaking his head. "Just for my amazing tongue, hey?"

She grinned, sniffling. "That, and those strawberries. You can at least eat them one-handed, right?"

Mock hurt wrote itself along Wes' eyes. "Of course. I'm a big boy!" He opened the Godiva box, pulling out the fattest one by the stem and running it along Santana's lips, pulling it back when she tried to bite.

"Now, that's not fair…" She whined.

"Welcome to my life, sweetheart." But nose-tingling must have been contagious, because Wes was forced to twist aside, dropping the chocolate as this time he was the one to sneeze.

They both burst into laughter. Clearly, this night was not going to work. So after a quick call to David, Wes leant back against a tree, pulling Santana into his lap and holding her close with his one hand, and there they lay, just talking and watching the stars...

"So why don't we try this again next week?" She grinned, offering him a hand as they stood up to go meet the car. "No jasmine, no cold."

Wes absolutely beamed. "I'll still have the sling on…"

"As long as you bring those strawberries, I couldn't care less." She wrapped her arms around his neck, giving him a final kiss before pulling him into the backseat of the Chrysler.

So, I decided, at a little past 1 in the morning, that you all deserved a little Westana in your life... Also known as, I couldn't sleep and discovered this hidden away in a folder somewhere.

God, don't you just LOVE Westana? Especially with strawberries.

... Damn you, attractive people.

Like it? Hate it? Want me to become a little too invested in my research of HSV-1 infections in mice and forget to write for you all? Please let me know!

Keep smiling! :D