Title: For The First Time
Fandom: Glee
Genre: Romance/Drama/Comedy
Status: Complete
Pairing: Santana/Tina
Rating: PG-15
Words: 1960
Summary: How on earth had they gotten there?
Spoilers: Set after the end of glee club, that is, graduation, so nothing really spoilery, but it'd be good if you've watched up to 2x16.
Note: Title from The Script's song of the same name, because that's how good I am at thinking of titles. Written for the Glee_Rare_Pairs fic exchange on LJ for Octopunk.
The bartender raised his eyebrows at the fuming Latina seated at the bar and poured her the same drink she'd been having almost every night for the past two weeks. The bar was pretty empty, but it was only 4pm, after all. The dark-haired woman didn't appear to be looking or waiting for anyone. She sat there glaring at her drink as though it had personally insulted her.
He figured it was probably time to do something about her. More than a few customers had been scared off when they tried to approach her. Angry people were bad for business, even though after a few drinks the woman would get weepy; he was getting tired of providing tissues for her day after day.
"Santana, right?" he said cautiously from behind the bar. She turned her glare on him and he very nearly backed off. Nearly. Think of the customers, he told himself.
"At your service,' she sneered.
He scowled at her and nodded at the empty seat next to her. "You used to come in here with that cute Asian chick, yeh? What happened to her?"
Santana's fingers clenched around the glass she was holding and she scowled back at him challengingly. "At home, I suppose."
"Santana Lopez! Stop walking away from me! I swear if you walk through that door one more time I won't be here when you get back." Tina furiously stalked after the other woman through their apartment. The floor was cluttered with discarded newspapers. Most were crumpled and open at the classifieds.
Santana halted at the open door. For a moment Tina thought she wouldn't go, but then the moment passed. "Then I won't come back,' she said quietly, 'What kind of roommate can't pay rent?"
"Do I look like I care? You're my girlfriend, Santana. It's different." Tina regrets saying 'girlfriend' the moment it slips out. Santana had never been fond of labels. Or commitment. Or feelings.
The taller girl's eyes harden and she scowls. "I am no such thing." The door slams shut.
Tina falls back against the wall and sighs, wondering how they'd gotten there.
"So why are you here?"
"I'm the fucking plumber, moron," Santana mutters, "and I'm here to fuck your pipes up, if you don't shut the fuck up."
He rolled his eyes. Clearly she was still in pre-drunk angry mode. He wondered if he should approach her when she was sobbing. Maybe she'd be more responsive then.
A regular walks in then, sees Santana at the bar, and swerves to the left, away from the bar, to a booth. The man glances nervously at Santana periodically. The bartender sighs.
"Why are you here instead of at home with her?"
The brunette, still scowling, raises her head to glare at him. "I came here for a drink, not for fucking therapy. Asshat." She slams down the amount she owes him and storms out of the bar. The bartender is almost relieved.
The regular walks over and remarks, "I wouldn't want to get in her way. She is one scary bitch."
The bartender nods slowly, and wonders.
"New Orleans, huh? I'm going there too," Tina smiles at Santana, who looks as imposing as ever in her cheerleading uniform. She's seated cross-legged on one of the chairs and, as usual, filing her nails. The rest of the club is spread across the choir room, chatting excitedly about where they're going. They'd finally gotten over all their petty relationship issues, and the only people who were still in relationships were Puck and Lauren, Finn and some girl on the cheerleading squad, and Tina with Mike. Santana and Brittany were… still undefined, but for the moment, Brittany was sitting on Mike's lap, laughing as he talked about some dance move he was pretty sure no one had ever tried before.
Rachel Berry was, of course, going to New York. Julliard. There hadn't been a single person who was dry-eyed by the time she'd finished thanking them for all the help they'd given her and experiences she'd gotten from the club. Quinn Fabray, who Tina had always had her doubts about, was nearly sobbing. Apparently, Quinn was going to NYU. The two girls exchanged a glance, and Tina grinned at the sight. Maybe after getting over their high school insecurities they'd finally get together.
"So what, Gothica?" Santana had never gotten any less antagonistic, but Tina had gotten a lot less timid. "Really, Santana, your barbs are losing their sting."
The girl rolled her eyes and put the nail file away. "Yeah, I'm going to New Orleans. Brittany's going to L-fuckin'-A to dance until someone notices how amazing her dance moves are. Finn's going to community college, even though I personally think he'll fail every course because he won't study, but whatever. Puck's going off with some stupid band with fucking Lauren as his manager or some shit. Gross. Chang is going to fucking New Jersey. So what?"
"Well, I was thinking since both of us were going to the same place, we might as well share an apartment or something. That way we both get more space." The words tumbled out of Tina's mouth, a plan she'd thought about for at least two weeks.
There was a week left until the school year was over, and everyone was feeling pretty sentimental. Even Santana. She rolled her eyes and said, "Fine."
Tina smiled, but her smile faltered when she glanced over at her boyfriend. Santana raised an eyebrow. "What's with you and Chang then?"
The girl shrugs. "I don't know. We'll probably break up. I love him, I guess, but we've talked about it, and long-distance isn't really our thing. What's with you and Brittany then?"
Santana's face hardened. "Not your fucking business."
The conversation ends there.
30 newspapers, 43 online ads, 20 phone calls and two days later, they rent a U-Haul.
"She stormed out again." Tina sighs forlornly into the phone.
"Where?" Kurt's voice is fuzzy; he's calling from San Francisco.
"The bar nearby, I guess."
"I still think you should've gone after her."
"I can't, Kurt."
"Why not?"
"Because… she doesn't like it when I do."
"You don't like it when she leaves."
"I don't…"
"Go after her, Tina," Kurt advises, "Someone has to."
She went.
She stops asking after Santana yells at her for the third time that it's not her fucking business. She yells back instead. "Yes it is, Santana Lopez! You're my roommate! I don't want to come back every Tuesday night to find you sobbing next to the goddamn phone, a dozen beer cans next to you, because Brittany's going out on a date. I don't want you coming back on Wednesday nights with some random fuck who gets kicked out at 8am on Thursday morning. I'm sick of it and so are you."
Santana's bedroom door slams in her face.
But she tells Tina about Brittany. She tells Tina about how Brittany used to say the most ridiculous things, but somehow, Santana understood. She tells Tina about how Brittany danced sometimes, about how Santana would feel so much awe at the way the blonde could move. She tells Tina about how when they were kids, Santana had to beat Puckerman up to stop calling her a retard. She tells Tina about how Brittany had kissed her on her 13th birthday.
Somewhere along the line of these stories, Tina thinks they actually become friends.
Santana stops calling on Tuesdays. The rumpled, hot boys and girls, mostly blonde, stop coming out of Santana's room blearily on Thursday mornings. Soon, she stops calling on Fridays and Saturdays.
Eventually, she just stops calling.
They e-mail instead, she said, but Tina wonders.
They go out for a drink one night, and Santana, drunk, kisses Tina.
Tina, not drunk, kisses back.
"Santana? Scary brunette? Yeah, she was here like, 10 minutes ago. She left."
Tina walks out of the bar and squares her shoulders. She walks off to the park nearest their apartment. Santana had a strange affinity for being drunk and depressed in parks.
There was a dramatic flair in the Latina's character Tina didn't know about in high school.
While she walks, Tina tries calling her… roommate-friend-turned-girlfriend-turned-possible-ex-girlfriend.
No one answers the phone.
"What are we doing?"
"Well, I for one thought we were having sex, but I don't know what you think we're doing," Santana grunts above Tina as her fingers move in interesting ways.
Tina arches back before she reaches down to grab Santana's hand. "How drunk are you?"
"Drunk enough to fuck you and not regret it, but not drunk enough to have this conversation," Santana mutters into her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. Her fingers start moving again.
Tina thinks conversation can probably wait until they wake up. She pushes against Santana's shoulders and flips them over so she's on top. When Tina starts kissing down her neck, her groans turn to moans.
Except when they wake up, they don't talk about it either.
But they do have sex again. Multiple times.
Tina almost smiles when she sees the lone figure slowly swinging back and forth on the swings. Predictable, that's what Santana Lopez really was.
She nearly drops down onto the other swing but realizes at the last moment it's broken. Santana, looking moody, turns away. Tina sits herself down onto the girl's lap, her arms looping around her neck naturally.
"Did I ever tell you why I wanted to share an apartment with you?"
"You wanted more space than a dorm could give you," Santana mumbles.
"Aside from that." When there's no reply forthcoming, Tina goes on. "I thought it'd be fun. I mean, you were still Santana Lopez, so I figured we could like, party or whatever. But then we got here and… mostly you moped and studied and studied and moped and argued and got a part-time job and studied and worked and argued. And the thing is, I didn't even mind that. The thing is, it really was fun, and so I wasn't wrong. What I was wrong about was how you didn't have a warm heart. I was wrong. You do have a heart, and I think glee club made it grow three sizes, and I think maybe it got broken and… I want you to give me the chance to put it back together."
Tina ducked her head, blushing. That speech she certainly hadn't planned.
It's quiet for a while aside from the sound of the swings creaking.
"First of all, I'm a lizard. I don't have anything warm about me-"
"I have to disagree," Tina cuts in, smiling, "I think there are parts of you that are really, really warm."
Santana chuckles despite herself. "Whatever, Tina Turner. Second of all, okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay. Let's go home, drink cheap wine, drunk prank call people and have sex all night." Santana smirks at Tina. She smirks back weakly and stands up, grabbing Santana's hand.
"Let's go home," she echoes, hoping Santana won't see the tears threatening to fall. She does, of course, but Santana brushes them away, so it's okay.
"Don't give up on me," she whispers.
Tina doesn't know how they got here, on their graduation day, matching bands adorning their left middle fingers, a promise sealed in a ring of silver, but there they are.
Countless arguments, countless slamming doors, countless empty bottles of cheap wine, and countless bouts of make up sex and heartfelt insults later, there they are.
Santana doesn't care how they got there, but she likes where they are. She likes it a lot. She'll never admit it, but Tina knows, and she knows Tina knows.
And that's enough. For now.