Auntie Tana Always Knows
It was four o'clock in the afternoon, when the Lima Bean was in full bustle. Students, adults and the occasional hobo circulated the shop, and, of course, Blaine Anderson. But the lack of a Kurt Hummel was not to be missed. Instead, his usual place was claimed by a certain Latina.
"Blaine Anderson," Santana took a deep breath, smiling as she said in a sickly sweet voice "Congratulations."
"For what?" Blaine shifts his eyes, taking a sip from his medium drip.
"Oh, you sweet little thing," Santana shakes her head fondly "You got fucked in the ass real good by Hummel, didn't you? I wouldn't doubt that since he is kind of a power whore. Or did you top for this one? I mean, you are shorter, but Kurt's as scared of sex as I am of Berry's sweaters- or did you do that thing where you gays switch it up a bit?"
Blaine sputters at the vulgarity of Santana's words.
"First of all," Blaine presses a napkin to his lips "I've never heard so much offense in one sentence. And second, what makes you think I had," he looked over his shoulder "sex with Kurt?"
"Anderson, please" Santana damn near pouts "I actually liked you better than those brainwashed, showtune singing little twits. You know why, Helmet Hair?"
Blaine shakes his head, sloshing his half-full cup in circles.
"'Cause I know game when I see it. And you, sir?" Santana licks the icing off her cupcake almost seductively "You've got it. Maybe it's the way that you wear those tight-ass polo shirts that tell everyone how cold it is in a room."
"I really don't get why you're doing this in the first place. This really isn't your business, no offense." Blaine rolls his eyes, a hand patting her wrist. Santana looks at him, wide-eyed and taken aback.
"Excuse me, but, you went all up on my boy Kurt's ass-literally, might I add- or vice versa, so it ismy business." she snaps, retrieving her wrist back quickly, a clearly offended look plastered on her face
"Also, my inclusion in people's sex lives is like Kurt's insistence to be included in people's wardrobe choices. Everyone's going to say, 'no, no, go away, we'll be fine without you, sweet Jesus' but then they realize they won't. They'll be little sexless, animal sweater wearing Streisand wannabes who won't pop their cherries till their mid-twenties."
"You mean like Rachel?"
"You said the name. I didn't."
Blaine looked at the wall parallel to him. "I can't believe this."
"I'm being a good person here by celebrating with you, if you think about it, Dapper Donald McGentleman." she rationalized.
"Please," Blaine scoffed.
Santana glared.
Blaine quivered.
"Sorry." Blaine said.
"That's right," Santana checked her watch "Well, it seems that that's all the time we have for today, Perry Whore."
Blaine stares at her dumbfoundedly.
"Enjoy your coffee. And your stiff bread thing."
"Biscotti."
"Right."