All She Knows, a glee fanfic

A/N: Takes place sometime before Not Even Human. The song is All She Knows by Bruno Mars. I freaking love that guy, swear to gosh. ;] This'll be in Santana's point of view, by the way. Read and enjoy, ladies and gents.

I fucking hate Quinn Fabray.

I hate how she gets whatever she wants without even trying. I hate how she uses people and treats everyone like shit just because she can.

But most of all, I hate that she has what I want.

Rachel Berry.

I know, I know, what's a fine piece of ass like me want with a freak like her, right?

Well, folks, truth is, I got it bad.

Real bad.

And I only noticed when I started seeing how much different she started acting once she got with the Queen Bitch. I mean, she used to be super annoying and full of energy and always fighting for what she wanted. She used to hold her head high and take every insult, threat, and slushie with a giant fucking smile on her face.

Shit was hot, by the way.

But now she's all mellow and uncaring and just, like, dead, and I hate it. I miss the old Rachel.

Mr. Schue bursts into the choir room suddenly and claps loudly, successfully scaring the fuck out of me. I glare angrily at him, but it doesn't even faze him. Damn it.

"So, guys, I've come up with more ways for us to-"

"Hey, Mr. Schue, can I sing something real quick?" I interrupt him. I'm not about to hear him go on and on about bonding and shit.

He gives me a weird look, but says, "Yeah, sure, Santana. Go ahead."

I stand and walk to the front of the room, turning to look at the rest of the Glee kids. "Aight, I'm not good with feelings and shit," I see Mr. Schue cringe at my language, but he doesn't say anything so I continue, "but this song pretty much says what I don't really want to. I'm not telling you who it's for, so don't get all up in my shit asking about it. All that will get you is my fist in your face. Got it?" Everyone nods a little fearfully. "Good. Here I go, then."

I hand Brian or whatever some sheet music (yeah, bitches, I'm fucking prepared for this shit) and wait for my cue.

Once again you're home alone
Tears running from your eyes
And I'm on the outside
Knowing that you're all I want
But I can't do anything
I'm so helpless baby

Fucking ayy, man. Everyone is looking at me funny. Is it really that weird for me to express some actual emotion every once in a while? I mean, seriously. Grow the fuck up, people.

Everyday same old things
So used to feelin' pain
Never had real love before
And it ain't her fault

It's so hard not to look right at Rachel while I'm singing this.

I mean, so far, I'm doing a good job of keeping my eyes fixed on the wall above her head. But I just know that at some point I'm gonna forget for, like, a second, and I'm gonna look into her eyes and then she's gonna know everything.

And she can't know everything. She can't.

Right now, everyone most likely assumes I'm talking about B. Which, to be fair, is definitely possible. I love that girl to death. But she's my best friend and that's it. There's nothing going on there like everyone seems to think. I mean, sure, we've messed around a bit, but we were experimenting. Trying to figure out our sexuality.

Turns out I'm a card carrying, rainbow flag flying, unicorn riding member of the Rainbow Brigade and she is (mostly) straight.

And anyway, Britt knows I have a thing for Berry. We talked about it for a while last night.

It was one of those times where I was feeling super emotional, okay? I'm a girl. I'm allowed to have those kinds of times. And it's definitely not a regular thing, me talking about feelings. It makes me more uncomfortable than a black guy at a KKK meeting.

She knows better but she can't help it
Wanna tell her but would that be selfish
How do you heal a heart that can't feel it's broken
Her love is all she knows, all she knows, all she knows
Her love is all she knows, all she knows, all she knows

Well, if that didn't give me away, nothing will.

There is exactly one lesbian couple in this joint. Rachel and Quinn. So, if any of these morons just heard what I said, it would be safe to assume that I either have feelings for Rachel or Quinn.

They'll probably think I want Quinn. Everyone thinks I hate Rachel.

Which, if you haven't already figured out, is not the case.

You've been livin' this way so long
You don't know the difference
And it's killing me
Cause you can have so much more
I'm the one you're looking for
But you close your eyes on me
So you still can't see

Q and Rach have been together for what? Like, 2 months? I don't know. But in the amount of time they've been together, good ol' Q-Tip has turned my girl into a lifeless zombie who doesn't give a shit about anything.

Everyday same old things
So used to feelin' pain
Never had real love before
And it ain't her fault

Okay, let's be real here. Rachel has never been with anyone who actually loved her.

I mean, first, there was Puck. And while I guess he did love her in his own weird way, he wasn't ever in love with her. She knew that, but still.

Next up, Jesse St. Fuckhead. He was just Shelby's lackey. His motive for getting with Rachel was to get her to want to meet her mom. And, as an added bonus, he got to break her heart right before Regionals knowing she's our star and it would make it that much harder for us to win.

Then there was Finnderella. He was the biggest douche of them all. I mean, yeah, Puck never loved Rachel, but he never claimed to, either. Even Jesse admitted to fucking with Rachel's head and not really caring about her at all.

Finnocence, however, said he loved her (and still does) throughout their relationship as he was bending her to his will. Making her change the way she was (even though she was fucking perfect before), lying to her about sleeping with me (which wouldn't have been such a big deal if he would've just told her in the first place), and then breaking up with her because she made out with Puck even though he had cheated on Quinn with her when he thought Quinn was having his child.

He's just a big fucking man-child who throws a fit like a fucking 3 year old when he doesn't get his way. He's manipulative, a liar, and dumb as a fucking rock. How she ever put up with him, I have no idea.

And that brings us to Quinn.

Quinn, the master of lying and manipulating to get what she wants.

Quinn, the robot incapable of human emotion.

Quinn, the bitch who gets her pleasure (or what her programming deems 'pleasure' anyway) from the pain of others.

See, I learned from a very young age that Quinn is a special breed of person. She was taught by her parents since birth that feelings are weakness and that Fabrays are not weak. She was trained into mastery in the arts of lying, manipulating, and cold-heartedness.

They turned her into a fucking automaton, and I'm the only one who seems to see her for what she really is. Well, me and B, anyway, because she's always had this weird sixth sense when it comes to people.

Quinn has Rachel under her spell right now, and I seriously die a little when I see the dullness of those once so bright and lively brown eyes. Quinn did that to her.

That blonde Barbie bitch doesn't love her. She can't. She literally isn't capable of it.

But I can. I can love her like no one else has or will. If she could just see that, then maybe she'd give me a chance.

That's all I need. One chance.

One chance to show her real love, real compassion, real happiness, and she'll be mine forever.

Shit, who knew feelings were so intense.

It's partly my fault that she's so desperate for love. I mean, I've been terrible to her since elementary school. Just because she dared to be different and I didn't have the balls to. I've called her names and threatened her and done horrible things to her to try and douse that goddamned flame inside her that keeps her chin held high because I was so jealous of her spirit and ability to be who she was. I've never felt free to be myself. My parents fit me into this perfect little image of what their daughter should be, and deviating from that image resulted in disappointment and punishment. At school it wasn't much different. I was expected to be a cheerleader and a whore so that's what I became. Rachel, on the other hand, always seemed so full of life and so confident and comfortable in her own skin and I hated that. I wanted her to feel like I did.

I didn't know that everything I did actually got to her. She never showed it.

That's why she's so eager for friendship and romance, though. Because of me. She wants someone to tell her that she's beautiful and talented and smart and wanted and not worthless because I've made her believe the opposite.

It's my fault she's so insecure. I did that. Maybe not me alone, but I definitely helped.

All she knows is the pain
In the corner of an empty home
She's still comfortable
I want her to know
It can be better than this
I can't pretend
Wish we were more than friends

We're not even friends. I think I should've changed that line to "wish we were more than enemies."

…Nevermind. That wouldn't have rhymed.

Even to be friends would be fucking awesome at this point, though. I mean, I want to be more than friends, but if she doesn't want me, I'm not gonna be a bitch and, like, force myself on her. That's what Quinn did, and I'm not like her.

God damn it I wish she could see how fucking awful the Ice Queen really is.

As I finish the song, my eyes move to meet Rachel's before I can stop them. Quinn narrows her eyes at me, but I really don't give a flying fuck. Curiosity swirls in those beautiful brown eyes and I really could just get lost in them forever…

Mr. Schue clears his throat and the moment is over. Both of us avert our gazes and I mumble an intelligent "um…yeah" and reclaim my seat. Britt sees my crushed expression and, after whispering something in Wheels' ear, grabs her chair and joins me in the back row. Once she rests her hand on my forearm I feel tears cloud my vision. Fuck, I hate crying.

Dark spots appear on my jeans as the tears fall, and I angrily swipe at my eyes because I'm a fucking Lopez and a Lopez does not cry for any reason.

But my stupid fucking tear ducts beg to differ, because the tears keep coming. B removes her hand from my arm and wraps her arms around my shoulders, bringing me into her. She strokes my hair and shushes me while everyone else pretends not to notice that Santana Lopez, Queen Bitch, is crying like a baby.

Fuck Quinn Fabray.

Fuck love.

Fuck everything.