A/N: Okay, so I don't normally toss in disclaimers at the start of fics very often, because author notes are generally something I like tossing in at the end. However, I wanted to make sure that this story's themes were presented clearly and accurately.
This story will include issues involving gender identity, dysphoria, transphobia, and the sort. There is a character who is a trans woman. By this, I don't mean G!P, W!P, "Futa", or any of that (I've seen some fics conflate trans narratives with G!P and futa fetishes, and I don't want to cause any disappointment, misrepresentation or confusion). There being such elements in this story does not mean that the whole story will revolve around them, but there will be some focus initially. So if you find that I'm skipping over some details on trans experiences, let me know and I'll gladly talk to you about it and see what I can do (and it'll be exponentially easier if you have an account, because then I can PM you, and won't be clogging up my chapter files with massive ANs in an honest attempt to communicate).
I'm doing my very best to present this respectfully, and to present a trans character in a way that I personally haven't seen on ffnet (at least, not yet…I'm sure there are a few similar ones out there, for sure! I haven't read any Unique related fics yet, so I'm sure they're probably out and about, just not easy stuff to find in pezberry and quinntana fics).
Anywho, I hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading and being awesome :D
Jersey City. All year long, Schue had been pumping them with all this hype for New York City, getting them excited for nationals, and even got them onto a plane instead of a grueling bus ride, but their motel was in Jersey City. It was, in Santana's mind, a massive disappointment. She'd hoped for something in Manhattan, or even Brooklyn; she would have taken Queens, or something as far as all the way east in the 'burbs, but having to stay in New Jersey was kind of miserable and unglamorous. There would be no walking from a swanky hotel to some nice shop or diner, as they'd instead gotten a motel in a not-so-swanky area of Jersey; their motel wasn't anything fancy, either. It seemed McKinley didn't have the budget for that, at least for glee club, so they'd been stuffed like sardines into these tiny rooms in pairs, all randomly designated. It was better than all the girls huddled into one single room, but certainly not an incredible step up. Certainly, it was a far cry from the Cheerios usual style of lodgings.
Now, Santana would be the first to admit that ninety percent of the time, she didn't like the other glee clubbers, minus Britt and sometimes Quinn of course, so she had known that she was likely in for trouble from the start, given the odds. That she ended up stuck with Rachel Berry for six and a half days during their inexplicable week long excursion was possibly one of the only things potentially worse than being stowed away in Jersey City.
Not that the diva didn't have her moments; the girl HAD believed in her during sectionals in sophomore year, and Berry was always clutch when arranging group numbers and getting everyone prepped for competition when Schue was too busy macking on the OCD cleaning fairy. Santana had even once admitted to Britt that she had something of a crush on the diva after hearing her absolutely belt out 'Don't Rain on my Parade', and that hadn't entirely disappeared. It was just old and really dormant, mostly because Berry had gotten a lot more intense in past months, and was pretty much a lifetime ticket-holder on the big ol' Hetero Railroad to PIV City as far as Santana knew, so she'd long written her off.
That, and some of the time she was pretty annoying, mostly within the walls of glee club. She talked too much, was usually too bossy, wore too many animal sweaters and overloaded herself on argyle. On top of that craziness, Berry obsessively longed for the affections of possibly the dumbest, creepiest dudes at school, aside from Jewfro at least. Six days spent with a workaholic, egocentric diva that had a penchant for never shutting up just seemed like something of a nightmare. Adding the ancient dormant-as-an-elder-god crush element just made it more or less disastrous.
Santana had spent most of her evening since they arrived with Britt and Q in the fortunate pair's room, trying her best to avoid spending time with the hobbit, but Schue had come by twenty minutes before, telling them they had to be in their rooms by ten thirty. A deadline that happened to be nine minutes ago. Knowing that she'd already probably done enough to piss the man off to ensure she wouldn't ever have a solo again, Santana didn't particularly stress about going back to her room until Britt and Q decided they were tired and went to bed. Which, sadly, didn't take too long. Traitorous hags.
So there she stood with her hand on the doorknob, praying to the lord above and hoping desperately that Berry was asleep in bed already as she swiped herself in. The room was pitch black as she entered, her eyes needing a few moments to adjust as she closed the door behind her; their quarters were pretty small, which helped her realize that despite the hobbit's size likely giving her great opportunities to be stealthy and hide, the girl wasn't in the room with her. It was then that she noticed the bathroom door was closed, though there wasn't any light seeping out from under the closed door. Santana's brow furrowed, knowing that Berry was usually pretty responsible and organized, so there would be no way she'd be rebellious enough to be out late.
"Berry, I swear if you're hiding in here, thinking I'm some serial killer, I just might make that wish come true." Santana noted flatly as she cautiously moved through the small space, checking all the nooks around the fairly undersized beds before edging toward the bathroom door. It was then that she heard faint sobs from the other side, causing her to roll her eyes. Of course Rachel Barbra Berry is a big enough drama queen to sit in a bathroom, in the dark, crying her eyes out over the misery of being rejected by Finnept yet again, or whatever. I mean…I did see him giving that gassy infant look to Quinn a lot on the plane…he didn't really look at Berry all that much, either…not that I was staring or anything, she was just sitting right in front of me… she mused, knocking on the door, hoping Berry would be embarrassed by being caught, and would vacate the bathroom for the comfort of a creaky bed or something.
"Hobbit, open up, I need to use the shower." She spoke in her well-practiced tone of apathy, because if she was honest, it was what helped to keep her from focusing on the confusing situation before her. She'd been very aware that Berry had been pining for the trip to New York for months; years even if you accounted for her childhood dreams, and it just didn't make sense why the girl would be crying in the bathroom at night when she could be sleeping in order to prepare for the next day's outing into the city. The diva and Finn hadn't even been together or anything, so it shouldn't have affected the girl that much. It was weird. And Santana wanted to shower, so she banged her hand on the door, hoping it would freak the other girl out enough to respond. Instead, the sobs just got louder.
Santana tried to open the door, but found it predictably locked. Deciding this was getting ridiculous, she turned to her reasoning skills to help. "Look, Berry, I know Kurt wanted to take you to that breakfast place or whatever tomorrow, so if you don't get your sleeps on, that's not gonna happen. I need you to get out here, so you can cry yourself to sleep in bed or whatever, and so I can shower." She grit out, more than a little impatient and frustrated with the situation. It would be too late to use anyone else's bathroom, at least without getting her likely locked down in Jersey City for the rest of the trip as punishment for breaking curfew.
After a few minutes of knocking and pounding on the door, only to receive wordless responses from the other girl, Santana took matters into her own hands. She wasn't as good as Quinn, but she was kind of handy with a nail file as well. After finding her carry on and pulling out some improvised tools, she returned to the door and made quick work of the lock.
Santana was just opening the door when something relatively heavy seemed to move in front of it. "P…please don't! Just…just please, Santana, don't!" Rachel wailed, actually wailed at her. She'd never heard the girl so distraught and panicked before, and while she still disliked the girl a little bit sometimes, she wasn't about to be a bad teammate. It was obvious that something had Berry fucked up enough to hide away like a little pixie-esque maniac, and she was going to help, because she wasn't entirely heartless. She'd always had a hard time around crying girls, and while she wasn't entirely uncomfortable around them anymore thanks to having been friends with Britt and Quinn for years, she still just didn't like it happening around her. So I'll fix it…whatever, and then I'll shower…win-win.
Immediately, Santana slid down the door and slowly forced it open enough for her to squeeze her body through. Even in the dark, it was pretty easy to find the toilet, so she walked over to it as nonchalantly as she could and sat down on the lid. She knew that powering her way in and yelling would only freak the girl out more, and was hoping her form of entry and behavior at least kind of had the girl off her guard. To Santana's credit, Rachel hesitated for six whole seconds before pulling her carry-on bag frantically behind her as she scooted back into the corner, wide-eyed and scared.
Santana gave the girl a confused look, not understanding in the least why she had her carry-on in there with her, and why she was so intent on hiding it. After a few seconds of silence, apart from Rachel's choked sobs at least, Santana decided to break the ice. "I know I was pretty broken up about being stuck here in Jersey, but you took it to a whole different league, Berry." She spoke, hoping to ease some tension and maybe get an idea over what the diva's breakdown was about.
"Please…please leave." Rachel's voice was meek; despite the girl desperately trying to put on a brave front, her voice cracked with emotion and vulnerability. It really was an admirable effort, even if it clearly wasn't going to last long.
"Look, I need to shower, alright? So you tell me what I can do to fix whatever messed you up, you pay me back in a way of my choosing sometime this week, and we call it even." She stated, looking intently at Berry to see if she could read her expression well enough in the dark to get a hint. Deciding that was too silly, she reached over and flicked the light-switch on, Rachel wincing and turning away as it illuminated the room.
It only took a second for Rachel to jump up to her feet and reach for the door, but Santana had expected her to bolt, and quickly caught her around the waist, pulling the struggling girl back to the toilet and onto her lap as she sat down. "Now, normally I wouldn't even think about being in a hundred yards of you, hobbit, but something's up. So why don't you just tell Auntie Tana how to make it better, or who to beat up for you." She spoke quietly and as sweetly as she could into the girl's ear, Rachel's struggling melting back into sobs within mere moments.
Not knowing what else to do, Santana just spun the girl around until the diva was facing her, straddling her lap. At least from that position, she could wipe the girl's tears and rub her back; she didn't know Rachel well enough to know what best calmed her down, not like she knew Britt, but she figured some minor affection would help. The diva was already testing her patience and leadership capabilities, but she wasn't about to put up with six and a half days of this. And she didn't really want Rachel to, either. Whatever. "Rachel, you're alright, okay? Let me help. What do you need?"
Berry's first three attempts at speaking just resulted in wordless blubbering and bursts of heart-wrenching sobs that unnerved Santana. She'd only ever seen Britt like this when they witnessed a truck run over a family of ducks on the way home from the park. Honestly, Berry's kind of freaking me out right now, because I'm pretty sure I'd only be acting like she is if I, like, got cancer or something…
"Th…they…th…ey lost m…my lugg…ugg…" Berry strangled out before collapsing into sobs again, clutching hard at Santana's jacket. The garbled sentence made sense in that she understood the message, but not the importance. People lose luggage all the time, so what if she lost that fucking owl sweater or that purple argyle sweater vest? Wait…she's always prepared, so maybe…
"Berry, I know that losing luggage sucks, they'll probably redirect it here tomorrow. Any prep work you've got for nationals will be there when it gets back, don't sweat it." Santana replied softly, pulling Berry's chin up so she could meet the diva's eyes. "I'll probably regret it, but you can borrow some of my stuff until you get yours back, or get new shit, alright? I'm taller, but I'm pretty sure my dresses will fit you, and most of my tops might be a little loose, but whatever. Just avoid getting pixie dust on them."
Rachel shook her head and quickly tried to detach herself from Santana, only for her to pull the diva back. Berry slipped slightly, though, falling onto Santana's thigh after her attempt at escaping; the ex-cheerleader's grip immediately loosened as a familiar, odd sensation brushed against her skin. Rachel, using the brief confused distraction, wrestled herself out of Santana's grasp and bolted out of the bathroom, Santana following a few steps behind. She wasn't sure what was going on with the hobbit; her mind was hazy with questions, concerns, and generally having been briefly mind-fucked, but she wasn't about to let the girl dash out into Jersey where there were probably fifty serial killers per square mile for all she knew.
She reached Berry at the room's door and more or less suplexed Rachel onto one of the beds, needing to let the diva know she wasn't about to leave quite yet. Tact had never been her strong suit, though, and Santana quickly realized that maybe suplexing the girl set the wrong tone. "I'm not going to let you run off and get murdered, Berry. Just fucking tell me what's going on, alright? Because I'm pretty confused right now, you're pretty upset, and I just want you to not sob for forever, and I want to take a shower and sleep, so let's get this over with. Come on."
Rachel just gaped at her, wide eyed and terrified as she scooted back on the bed against the headboard. With a sigh, Santana knelt at the end of the bed, keeping a healthy distance between them and making sure they were closer to eye level, so she wasn't standing over the girl. It wasn't like the ex-cheerleader was ignorant of her reputation and how feared she was by some of her peers, Rachel included. "I'm not going to fucking murder you, short stack, I just want to talk. I know you're freaked out, but I just want to help you, alright? Preferably soon, so we can get our sleeps on."
"Santana, I…I just get worried wh…when things d…don't go as planned." Rachel stammered out, wiping her still-flowing tears from her face. It was totally the worst bit of acting she'd ever seen the diva give. And Rachel didn't have a super cute crying face or anything like Quinn, so she kind of just wanted to get rid of that ASAP; not a lot of people could manage to look good bawling up a storm, herself included.
It was a mess, and she needed to put a lid on it somehow. Santana knew Berry well enough to know that this could go on for hours, and she really didn't have the energy to be kept awake all night by choked sobs and everything. It fucking sucked, and if Berry ever told anyone about it she'd deny it and mortally wound the diva, but she knew that she'd have to pull out some tricks.
"I don't believe for a second that's why you're upset. How about I tell you one horrendously embarrassing thing about me, and you get whatever it is you're freaked out about out of your damn system… okay, short stack?" Santana asked, earning a hesitant nod and a little more blubbering from the diva. It wasn't a great response, but at least the girl looked like she understood the significance of it all. "Good. Ever since I first started my thing with Britt, she's made me sleep with this stupid stuffed duck whenever she's not there to, like, remind me of her or whatever. And even though we broke it off a while ago, I still do. I have a hard time sleeping without it, which is why this week is going to suck really bad for me. And why I need to get my sleeps on. There, you have some ammunition, you're not powerless or whatever, let's go."
Rachel just sat there, gaping at her for an uncomfortable couple of minutes. Santana really wasn't sure what else to do, since the girl inexplicably wasn't responding to her, so she went over to her luggage and pulled out some clothes for the both of them to sleep in, kind of hating that she'd likely need to find a laundromat to do her stuff in because Berry was dipping into her supply, and since she hated lending clothes out, she sure as hell wasn't about to take them back. Eventually, she found a pair of shorts and a t-shirt for the girl, and tossed them at her, before grabbing her own set and promptly changing, knowing she'd have to shower in the morning. Maybe it's better that way, with how gross these beds probably are…
Santana finished changing and returned to her previous position, kneeling by the bed, as Rachel looked sadly at the change of clothes strewn across the bed. "Santana, I…I don't feel comf...fortable changing…I…"
"I get it, I'm into girls, and you're surprisingly freaked out about it. I'll turn around." Santana noted, shrugging before pivoting around on the spot. She was pretty sure Berry wasn't the judgmental type, but perhaps the girl was merely scared of the 'Santana' of it all. The ex-cheerleader knew she happened to strike fear in the hearts of most of the students, after all. After a minute or so of hearing no movement, she turned her head to look over her shoulder, seeing Rachel hadn't even moved.
Sighing from frustration, knowing her night was likely a lost cause, she got to her feet and moved to the side of the other available bed. "Berry…look, I want answers, but you don't have to tell me tonight, okay?" Santana asked quietly, as she slipped under her covers, feeling miserable that she'd be losing sleep over something Berry wouldn't talk about. Even though she usually talked about everything. It was all ridiculously crazy, especially what she might have felt earlier. "Just…you're my friend, alright? You can trust me. If you need anything, just…just ask, okay?"
She was too curious to sleep, and maybe a little wee bit too worried as well, given the circumstances. It was hard enough to fall asleep after having flown so recently, what with her nerves being absolutely fucked with; adding on some drama with Rachel didn't help at all. Thankfully, the bed was small but fairly comfy, and the pillow and sheets were alright, so that was nice; it would have sucked to be kept up, thinking about how god-awful the sheets were at keeping out the AC-equipped room's frigid air, or how squeaky the mattress was, because her mind was firing all cylinders and she desperately needed to get it to calm down a bit. For that, she needed stability, or at least consistency.
Berry's sobs continued, but the diva did eventually shift on the bed enough to change, from what she was able to hear, so that helped. Santana knew the sobs would eventually become white noise as hours passed, and that Rachel would probably cry herself into exhaustion soon enough at that rate; the girl was an energizer bunny at the best of times, but the exhaustion had been written on her face earlier. Whatever it was that the girl was dealing with was apparently pretty serious.
Serious enough, at least, to knock Berry out about an hour and a half later, leaving Santana in blissful silence. At least, apart from the occasional sob, but it was clear the girl was asleep. Which honestly only let her think just a little bit clearer about the situation she was in, but it was good, because she needed to process that shit and get it out of her head before she could catch some Zs. Let's backtrack…Berry was happy at the airport…she was chipper enough during the flight, too. Talked Mercedes' ear off and probably annoyed everyone on the plane. Seriously, there's no reason to have a one-sided 'discussion' on Bernadette Peters, let alone one that lasted twenty minutes… she mused recalling how some other lucky individual across the aisle from her had given Rachel a death glare during the whole thing. That, at least, had been amusing. So I guess it might have been her luggage after all, because she WAS a bit antsy and everything when she eventually made it to our van.
Still, there was literally no reason to justify bawling oneself to sleep over lost luggage unless there was, like, gold in it. Or jewelry. Or valuable shit like that. Berry's dads had money, but Rachel wasn't really the type to rock out with a bunch of bling, so that wasn't a possibility. But earlier, in the bathroom, when she fell back on me I swore…I mean, it's probably just my damn imagination, I mean…fuck, what would be the odds? But…I mean…if she WAS, then…then it might make a little more sense. But what the hell would I even DO? I mean…how would I even fix this? I'm probably wrong, but…fuck. People have freaked out worse over less…okay, maybe not WORSE, but still. Christ, I can't even… no, NO. Santana mentally forced any conjured images out of her head that her imagination managed to create, knowing that she needed to sleep more than picture Berry naked, and that tomorrow would be a long ass day. And that Berry would eventually apologize for ruining her sleep. I guess I'll just have to wait until the morning to see what I should do…and hell, see if I can figure out what the hell is going on, too.
Thankfully, hours of flight-fueled anxiety and worried thoughts eventually had Santana drifting off into a restless sleep, Rachel's occasional soft sobs echoing through her mind all the while.
Rachel barely slept a wink; she'd been on edge, to put it very lightly, ever since the attendants at the airport informed her that her luggage was accidentally sent to Miami, which may as well have been a world away, knowing how long it took to reclaim 'lost' luggage between airports. For most people, it would be a frustrating ordeal, but nothing incredibly horrible; for Rachel, it was like being abandoned on a desert isle filled with deadly aliens with ray guns, scalpels and a cultural hobby of dissecting things. Feeling vulnerable wasn't uncommon for Rachel, she felt that way most days; being vulnerable, however, was a much rarer occasion.
She'd packed everything she needed for her trip in her luggage, only taking snack food, her iPod and dock, her sheet music and note books, as well as her medical necessities in her carry-on. Everything she relied on to make it through the rest of the day unscathed was gone or had unceremoniously tore on the ride to the hotel, somehow coming into contact with a sharp edge of a spring sticking out of the seat which had also drawn blood, though that was of a lesser concern at the moment. Ultimately, she'd lost part of what kept her safe and secure, and she had to endure at least six more days without any of it, most likely, all while staying with one of the girls who had made her life hell throughout high school. It wasn't fair, and even though Santana had seemed to have mellowed a bit the previous night, and was somewhat suspiciously nice, Rachel couldn't trust her. She couldn't trust anyone.
So she woke just before six the next morning, thankfully an uneventful process, and quickly made her way to the bathroom, knowing Kurt would be knocking on her door in about an hour. Never had such a span of time seemed so oppressively brief. Especially when Rachel knew she had a little less than that to figure out what she was going to do, but she honestly couldn't think of any solutions. The drawers and cupboards in the bathroom were all empty aside from the sample shampoo, conditioner and soap, which did her no good, and she'd rummaged through her carry-on last night for an hour. Though, maybe I missed something in my frantic state… she thought, diving back into her thoroughly searched luggage once more.
There needed to be something or she was doomed. Kurt wouldn't take no for an answer, not after they'd planned out their morning months ago, and the plans required a lot of transit. Transit that would likely be packed with people, and even in a city that cherished anonymity like New York City did, there were enough people so that the odds would shift toward someone noticing. As her hands sought out some mystical article of clothing or device, she could tearfully imagine being cornered on a busy subway, being outed in front of dozens, her Broadway dreams shattering before she'd even have a chance to take the stage. Eliminated by default.
Rachel let out a frustrated cry as she began to dig through her carry-on yet again, looking again for anything that she could use to fix her problem, knowing there was nothing. Her inventory list proved as much, but all she had was hope, and she couldn't give that away. Not yet. As she was inspecting her headphones as a possible option, Santana barged in and sauntered over to the sink, inelegantly rinsing her mouth out with tap water.
Rachel sat there on the ground, frozen, unable to make her body move, hoping Santana would just ignore her rummaging as the girl cleaned off the previous day's makeup. "I'm taking the shower for the next fifteen, is that alright?" Santana asked, not even sparing her a glance, though she sounded a little stiff. That noted, Rachel had rarely seen the girl in the early morning hours before, so it could have been a common behaviour for all she knew. Santana didn't even give her a chance to answer before she swiftly stripped, turned on the water, and stepped into the shower with a bunch of bottles and a loofah. It was hardly the reaction she'd been expecting from the ex-cheerleader, but Rachel was willing to take it if it meant she'd still have unmolested time to figure out what to do about her clothing issue.
She let out a watery sigh as she realized her headphone wires were much too short to be useful in the least. Rachel angrily tossed them back into her bag and kept searching, praying that something would work in her favour, that some perfect idea would form in her mind about how to keep herself from being involved in something of a spectacle. She'd endured enough trials already, losing her goals and dreams while at the gates of her future home wasn't anything she wanted to consider. It had been a long time since she dragged those skeletons out of her closet.
Santana stepped out of the shower to find the bathroom otherwise empty, though the noise from the main room indicated that Rachel was out there, probably going through her luggage as she took time to dry herself off. In all honestly, she'd barely caught a glimpse of the girl when she'd entered earlier, but she had briefly noticed something peculiar about the way her shorts fit Rachel, and had needed some time to think on it. Thus, the long shower; it seriously was NOT the time to fuck things up, and she knew that she had a tendency to go off the rails and speak without thinking. Which, honestly, could be dangerous.
It was pretty easy to accept that it wouldn't do any good to freak out, and she had to keep thinking back, remembering her father's words in order to regain any semblance of mental stability over what was going on. For the better part of two years, she'd thought of those words whenever she saw the diva, being mindful to try and use more height-oriented insults instead, almost always being successful. So really, it wasn't exactly a new sort of thought process, but things had changed now. The context was just different, was all, and for the first time in years, she felt a conditionally overwhelming amount of sympathy for the girl, at least if what she was thinking was the truth. Santana knew she couldn't be a hundred percent certain with what little she'd seen and felt, but knew that Rachel was very likely dealing with something pretty serious, and she'd watched enough videos online to have a good idea of what was troubling the girl.
She knew the diva had a morning breakfast date with Lady-Face from how Berry had gone on and on about it during their flight, and was clearly freaking out about it in the main area. So Santana decided to take some initiative; she towel-dried herself enough to not be soaking wet, put on the slippers she'd packed, and walked out of the bathroom. Rachel was surprisingly kneeling over a pile of objects, not even having touched Santana's luggage at all; for that, she gave the girl credit, but it was also kind of stupid and a sign that the diva didn't trust her. Which made sense, but she needed to earn Berry's trust if her suspicions were true. Santana quickly moved past the diva and opened up her own untouched luggage.
"When's Kurt coming by?" Santana asked quickly, as she dug through the folded piles of clothing, knowing she probably had enough to help in there. At least, enough to give the diva a stop-gap option for the rest of the day.
"Forty minutes or so." Rachel noted determinedly, though it was clear she was nervous and one step away from having a panic attack by the sound of her laboured breathing.
Santana pulled out the items she was looking for, shaking her head in disbelief that she'd found herself in such a crazy situation, before grabbing a purple off-shoulder top and her backup black pencil skirt she kept in case of spilled-beverage-related emergencies. She grabbed one of her necklaces too to complete the look, knowing it'd need something to help tie it together. It wasn't the most fashionable outfit, it didn't really go together perfectly given Rachel's skin tone, and would probably make Rachel look like some promiscuous office worker, but it worked well enough to be passable. And honestly, it was light years better than any outfit Berry had ever worn outside of glee performances. And maybe that black dress in sophomore year. Definitely that dress in sophomore year…
Quickly, she got up and sat on the end of the bed closest to the diva. Santana knew she'd be taking a risk, but she felt that so long as neither freaked out immediately, things would probably be fine. Hopefully. Maybe.
"You need to do your morning ritual or Kurt's going to think something's up, Berry. So put these on quickly and get to work. Use my products in the bathroom if you need them. I'll buy you some time if he gets here early." Santana said softly, offering the small pile of clothes to Berry, who was giving her a bemused look in return, her eyes darting between the ex-cheerleader and the clothes as she flipped through the stack. "No questions, alright? Just go. We'll talk later, short stack."
Rachel nodded quickly and promptly tossed her carry-on items back into the bag before disappearing into the washroom with the offered clothing. Santana sat on the edge of the bed, hearing Rachel at work, scurrying about in the other room; her memory was trying its best to piece together the puzzle she felt she had mostly figured out, trying for confirmation on what she'd felt the previous night, what she'd caught a glimpse of earlier. The fact that Rachel accepted her offering and vanished into the washroom was about as good of a non-verbal confirmation as she figured she'd get, but she wouldn't know the specifics until later.
Honestly, Santana kind of wanted to feel how she usually did, that comfortable manipulative excitement she'd usually get when she found herself in a position of power. It was safe, familiar, and it would have been so much easier. Instead, she just felt a mixture of guilt and anxiety over it all, mixed with a little relief that it was her who had stumbled upon the situation instead of Quinn or pretty much anyone else in glee. Not that she thought she was the nicest person to deal with or anything, because she was still the alpha bitch of their crew, but Santana figured she'd probably have a better understanding than the others would, even Kurt. As Santana watched Rachel burst out of the bathroom looking positively relieved, if a bit shaky still, she allowed herself a small smile and waved the diva off as the brunette went to meet Kurt early.
Fuck, this is gonna be a hell of a day…
A/N: Welp, that's the first chapter! I hope you enjoyed this little taste. I'll post this periodically, seeing as I have a bunch done already. I'm just trying to make sure I'm not giving any of you readers a huge gaping lull between content. I know many are looking forward to new chapters of my other stories…they're coming. I just need a little more time, and time is hard to wrangle these days.
Anywho, thanks again for reading! I hope your weekends have been awesome!