-from time to time-
"Won't you come on over? Stop makin' a fool out of me…"
She's a force of nature up on that stage, belting out the refrain of Valerie.
The guys were supposed to just circle around her, but Finn's gaze lingers a little longer than it should've and the grin on his face is a little wider than what it needs to be when he sees the determination in her eyes for a win.
It's familiar because that's the way her eyes look when she crosses him in the hall. He shouldn't even want to look at her. He does it anyways.
And then he turns away to finish the choreography.
She cares too much about what he thinks. That's why she's such a bitch to Berry. Or, well, more of a bitch to Berry. Anyways…
She's not a saint as her name would suggest, and she doesn't try to pretend to be one –like lil' miss midget diva tries to be, but fails. No, Santana's a straight up bitch, but maybe that's why she wants Finn. Wants because she doesn't need anything. She reasons this with herself because even though she cannot stand Rachel Berry, she wouldn't have told her that she and Finn did the dirty in front of Glee if she didn't care.
But the fact of the matter is that she did. And she does. She cares too much about innocent brown eyes and hands that grip her waist just right.
"…then maybe I'll tell her. Because then, we'd be free to see each other, right?"
And he wasn't expecting to break up with Rachel. Really, when she threw his words back in his face like that, about how he'd never break up with her, anger bubbled in his chest. He didn't want to, but he had to. This wasn't something they could overcome together–at the moment- and frankly, he couldn't look at her without imagining Puck's hands touching her, Puck's lips kissing hers, Puck being the one to realize how truly fucked up the entire situation was and stopping it, not Rachel.
He never thought she'd, out of all the girls he had been with, would be the one to make him feel so low, even as his reputation rose from breaking it off with her.
He can't blame himself for breaking up for her –because he'd never cheat on her- but he can't find it in himself to blame Rachel either. She was provoked, and there was only person to blame for that provocation. And that person was walking down the hallway as he shut his locker.
His hand latches onto her arm firmly. Her smirk falls from her face and is replaced by a stint of confusion and then a smug smirk.
"I know you can't keep your hands off of me Finnocence, but really, we're in a hallway."
"Enough Santana," He all but snaps, and her dark eyes narrow. "We need to talk."
"We don't need to do anything," She seethes. "What you need to do is let go of me and-"
She's cut off when he drags her into a nearby classroom that is dark at first, but the lights turn on as the sensors detect their movement.
"What the fuck?" The Latina proclaims when he slams the door.
"You broke Rachel and I up!" He accuses, and she cranes her head, giving him that look that says that she pities him more than he can know.
"That's bullshit, and you know it." She glares, even as she tightens his grip and leans in closer. "You broke up with the midget because she's a bitch who cheated on you with the guy who knocked up your ex last year. If anything, I showed you her true colors because if you didn't do anything wrong and she was cruel enough to do that, then imagine what would happen if you did fuck up?"
The silence following her words is palpable and stilled, but-
He lets go of her arm, built up hot air escaping his nostrils, and she smirks, knowing she's won. "Stay away from me, Santana. No more looks down the hallway or touching me whenever you feel like it."
She steps closer, her chest nearly flush against his, "Why don't you stay away from me? Stop staring at my ass whenever I walk down the hallway, wondering if you'll tap that again, and touching me somewhere safe when you know that you want to touch me where the sun doesn't shine."
Her head is craned upwards, Finn's is tilted downwards, and their breaths intermingle as his eyes become hooded.
Finally, he takes a step back. "Fine, then," He says. "I won't do any of that anymore."
She turns, looking at him over her shoulder. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Finnocence."
Her hips sway and the pleats of her Cheerios skirt pitter patter against her thighs.
He tries not to notice.
He fails.
…like, how does he not know how to tie a clip-on?
And then she reprocesses that in her mind, and realizes that you can't tie something that doesn't…tie.
Well.
Anyways, Finn generally fails. The fact that he has no game, the fact that he didn't know that the anatomy of a male and female body fit together like puzzle pieces (like Frankenstein, and thus, Frankenteen was born), or the fact that dating a loser make you a loser by association too.
But the boy has potential. So, so much potential. Star quarterback of a now winning team, typical male lead of Glee. Hell, all he needed was her. Her to make him better, be his plus one.
"Listen, I really care about Rachel and I'm fine with waiting for her-" Finn rambles before he's cut off.
"…Aaaaand when was the last time you had any of this, Frankenteen?" To further demonstrate, she takes her manicured index finger and slides it in and out through a loop created by her other pointer finger and thumb.
He goes silent.
"That's what I thought," She retorts with a curl of her lips, and she leans forward as she's balanced on his knee, glossed lips tickling his earlobe. "So when you're ready for someone to make you feel good again," She whispers huskily and her hands trail from his neck, to his chest, and past his waist, he lets out a soft groan. "You know where to find me."
He finds her on the other side of her door and his hands latch onto her hips before he can even stop himself.
Her eyes darken and glitter, "Took you long enough." She says, like she expected this and wondered why it didn't take place sooner. She wasn't even modest about this, wearing only lacy black boy shorts and a cropped midriff.
He tugs on the soft flesh of her clavicle with his teeth and then smooths over the assault with his tongue. "Shut up, Santana." He hoists her up and her lithe legs wrap around his waist. Her hands grip the back of his hair not too softly and their lips clash against one another's, her tongue massaging his as soon as she gains access. Her back slams into the back of her front door and a moan escapes her throat in protest. His fingers clutch into her soft flesh so hard that they begin to drag her panties down her caramel legs.
His hand begins its ascend from her waist, teetering on the outskirts of her breast. "Upstairs, Finnocence, we have to move this upstairs," She groans out and he huffs, carrying her up the stairs without disconnecting their lips until they blindly find their way into her room, crashing on her bed with a creak, and her midriff comes off abruptly, dark curls fanning out below her as she guides his hand up to her breast while his other removes her underwear. Her fingers rip away at his clothing with just as much fervor and she flips their positions, straddling him beneath her. His brow creases.
"You were on top last time."
Her fine eyebrow rises questioningly. "Sooo?"
He leans on his elbows, "I wanna be on top this time. It'd feel good and you promised me that you'd make me feel that way."
Se scoffs, leaning down to capture his lips, but doesn't protest when he rolls them to the other side of the comforter. He dips his head down lower and lower and when she moans out his name this time, she's below him as he approaches her entrance…
She never thought he'd make her feel this way. Like, how fucking dare he make her feel like she's less than what she is. Make her feel like some type of whore.
She slaps him across his face, nails scratching roughly against his cheek. Hard.
"When I'm serious about someone, I don't go around hooking up with their best friend," She sneers viciously. "Q fucks Puck, Rachel makes out with him, but I can't even freaking say a word to him without being freaking condemned?"
"He has a tendency to steal my girlfriends," Finn bites out, pressing his fingers into his red cheek.
"Since when have I been your girlfriend?"
"Since I stopped screwing you," Finn emphasizes, his face softening. "And began making love to you."
"You don't even know what that word means," She stresses, on the verge of pulling her own hair out. "And neither do I, so stop throwing it around like that." Santana crosses her arms, guarding herself from his stupid face, his stupid expectations, and his even stupider words. "Just because I haven't sexed up Puck in a hot minute, doesn't mean that can't change."
"I don't want you have sex with him," Finn says steadily, looking into her eyes. "Or anyone else, for that matter."
She opens her mouth quickly to say something, anything, that'll piss him off, just because she could. A smartass retort or maybe a statement to take him down a few notches for thinking he could tell her what she should or shouldn't do. She opens her mouth. And then closes it when she sees how damn earnest he looks about the whole thing. How his eyes softened and how his shoulders are now slumped like a kicked puppy's.
She always had a soft spot for dogs. Damn him.
"And what about you? We can't have sex anymore?" She asks just as softly as he looks.
"Maybe I don't want to be just your fun-buddy anymore, San," Finn answers, thumb caressing the length of her neck. "And that includes having less…fun."
"But I like having fun," Santana protests quickly. "I like having fun a lot."
Finn smirks at the disappointed look her face has taken. "I like having fun too," He concedes playfully. "In fact, I love having fun with you, but I'd love to get to know you even more. I wanna know why you like having fun so much-"
"Because it's funnn," She whines, and he kisses her forehead, resting his chin on her temple and wrapping his arms around her waist.
He chuckles, but continues on, "I want to know your favorite color and what it takes to truly be the boyfriend of Santana Lopez. I wanna know you like I know you physically, and I'm not going to stop until I do, so…"
"And why do we have to stop having sex for you to do that?" Santana all but pouts, furrowed brow and all as she drops the euphemism.
As he guides her down the hallway, hand resting on her lower back, he grins and leans down to her ear.
"Because you're too distracting when we're doing the dirty, San." He says all too innocently.
She laughs all the way to class.
I love Fanta. I love Fanta a lot. And Special Education just set me off and has made me scour FF everyday for new fictions of them.
This is basically a story consisting of moments in time between them–non chronologically. Hope you enjoyed reading, and hopefully you'll provide feedback if you feel like it; thanks for reading!
DAC