SUMMARY: Santana gets to be head cheerio, but her celebrating is cut short by a very upset ex-co-captain, Becky. She finds herself kicked out of the house and running to an unlikely place for shelter. Finn has Rachel help him thumb through school pamphlets and his future only seems cloudier. Things get awkward between the couple as sex becomes a heated topic.


Love. At first glance, it seems simple enough. 'I love you, therefore I will never hurt you and I will always care about you.' It never stays that simple though. In its true nature, it is complex and usually leads to pain. Using the L word and dealing with its subsequent emotions was risky. Santana was a smart girl, so she understood this. (Actually, she lived this.) She may not have let the world know it, like Man-hands and Porcelain, but she was pretty damn intelligent. Every time she weighed the possible consequences with the possible benefits of coming out to her parents, the pros always came up short to the cons. Brittany just didn't understand. Santana came from a strict Roman Catholic family. They wouldn't be able to handle the fact that she had been having sex since she was 13, let alone that she had been having sex with Brittany for a good while. Some of the things that Cris had said about homosexuals in the past made even Santana, with her notoriously vulgar vocabulary, blush the highest quality of red. Despite her parents' new habit of saying 'I love you' to the teenage Latina, Santana knew that they would be less than receptive to the truth about her friendship with Brittany. She wouldn't be surprised if they just kicked her out and disowned her without feeling the slightest bit of remorse. Even if Santana was willing to take all the possible consequences, it's not like Brittany would really appreciate it. They were back to being friends, just friends. It's as if Santana had never confessed her feelings for the girl. Even when Mr Schue, who totally overreacted, kicked her out of glee club, Brittany didn't exactly come to her defense. Warbler didn't either, even though she had expected some type of loyalty after the whole Karofsky situation. Either way, Santana expected Brittany to have some kind of protest. Sometimes she felt like she gave Brittany too much credit. It was those little moments of frustration that were slowly helping her to get over the blonde cheerio.

Santana glanced down at her list again that held the pros and cons of coming out as she walked home from school. She wrote the word happiness on the pro side and circled it several times. 'If I came out, I could get back in Glee like now. I mean they needs meh,' Santana thought to herself as the sway of her cheerio skirt popped into her peripheral. Her eyes traced the outline of her cursive writing, truly unsure of what she should do.

Santana was finally head cheerio. Her last piano explosion plan came through beautifully, leaving Becky as her co-captain no more. She should be feeling victorious, but she just wasn't. 'Glee,' she read the word aloud in her head. Why was it that one word could weigh so heavily against the ten on its opposing side? She crumbled up the sheet and threw the paper ball into the nearest trash can as she walked to her house. This debate had been going on too long and it just hadn't gotten any better. If anything, it had only given her a bigger headache. Seeing Brittany constantly and not being able to sing with the Glee Club didn't make anything easier either. Santana hated seeing her act as if nothing had changed. She tried not to focus on Brittany, but she couldn't help it. Pathetic. Why would anyone want to feel like this? While she prided herself on not needing anyone, Brittany seemed to have become quite the exception. The only problem was that Brittany wouldn't be with her, unless she came out at school. She couldn't really do that until she came out to her parents.

Word travels fast in Lima. It would only be a matter of time before they found out from one of the parents of some WMHS student if she decided to follow through with Brittany's request. A drawn out sigh fell from Santana lips as she kicked a can that laid on the sidewalk in front of her house. "Fucking A," she muttered in an overtly frustrated tone. The only thing that kept her from completely losing it was the fact that she would soon be able to plop her ass down on her bed and nap her headache away. She wasn't quite sure why she was letting this bother her so much. If Brittany wasn't asking her to come out, would she even really be thinking about saying anything? Why should she rush into doing something that she just wasn't ready to do? She would never put this kind of pressure on the blonde. Santana saw her house coming up and decided to wipe the look of contemplation off of her face. She wasn't up for dealing with her mother questioning the look on her face today. Her nap was waiting for her and that's all she really wanted.

Before Santana could pull her keys out, her father had opened the door and forcefully pulled her into the house. She struggled to not fall over as she regained her balance from the rapid motion, regaining her composure only as the door's sudden slam. Santana whipped her head up toward her father. "What is it, papi?" She almost yelled the words out, but held back some of the question's initial irritation. The last thing she wanted to do was piss off the huge man beast.

"Don't you call me, papi. Malcriada!" Cristobal's eyes were all but bulging out of their sockets as he yelled at Santana at the top of his lungs. Even that vein on his forehead seemed to be scolding her as it protruded out of his head with a steady pumping. Santana stepped back from the surprise and an instant fear filled her. She wasn't one to scare easy, but the look of complete anger on her father's face was horrifying. She wasn't sure what she had done yet, and she almost didn't want to know. "Explain this, Santana." Cristobal chucked a photo at Santana that hit the ex-cheerio's body and fluttered to the floor. The image flashed at her with every spin. She didn't have to bend over to see it. It was all right there: a photo of her and Brittany at a summer party getting their lady kisses on in a more than merely playful fashion. Santana didn't know what to say. A picture is worth a thousand words and she couldn't find just one to give as a counter-argument. She didn't even have to ask how he got the photo. The elegantly written word 'Becky' was clearly visible on the photo's way down to the floor. Sylvester must have told Becky about Santana's sole head cheerio status. From the looks of it, she wasn't too happy about the news. As much as she wanted to just go after the girl, she had to attend to the angry Hispanic giant in front of her.

"Calm down, papi! It's…it's not as bad as you think. Just please…" Santana muttered out, still shocked from the whole encountered. Cristobal swiped his hand across the hallway table and chucked the vase that stood on it clear across the hall. It shattered against the wall and forced a shriek out of Santana the likes of which she had never made before. By this time, the girl was shaking. His hand alone was the size of her entire head. She could only imagine the type of damage they could do on her. Cristobal turned away from his daughter and started to breathe in deeply in a sorry attempt to calm himself down.

"Vete." One word. Leave. Most teenagers would have pleaded, but Santana was too proud and wouldn't stoop to begging to an intolerant asshole. First, Mr. Schue had told her to leave and now her own father was doing it. That was enough. 'Men. If you don't cater to things the way they want you to, you get the fucking boot.' She won't beg, but she will sure as hell argue.

"You want me to leave? This is bullshit! I'm your fucking daughter!" The last thing on Santana's mind was refraining from vulgarities. Her only goal now was getting her father to accept her.

"You are not! You are not the daughter that I raised. You are a maldita! And I will not house some lesbian piece of shit!"

"Excuse me!" She yelled at the man who towered over her and showed her absolutely no pity. "Cuz your trifling ass is sooooo sin-free, right? You and your fucking whores. We're not stupid, puto! We know all about your cheating. You have no right to judge me!"

"GET! OUT!" Cris stepped closer to her and Santana was smart enough to know that it was time to leave.

"FINE! I don't fucking need you!" Santana punched the door open and stormed out of the house with nothing but her backpack. She could hear him yelling to her, but she chose to ignore it. She knew all the names he usually threw at girls like her. There was no need to hear them again. Hurt? Well, of course she was hurt. Santana isn't cold, but she isn't weak either. It was always easier for her to crawl to anger before she went to tears.

As she stormed down the sidewalk, Santana finally realized that she had nowhere to go. The first week of school proved that Quinn and San were still not on good terms and she held no type of friendly importance to the newly tattoo-ed 'skankette.' There was no way that she could stay at Brittany's house. She was more than sure that Cris had called the Pierce residence and shared the burden of his disappointment of a daughter. Puck was…Puck. His mother hated her for many reasons. (She was convinced that the woman was still upset about Santana's involvement in the creation of the infamous 'jewhawk'.) There was no way she could spend one night, let alone an indefinite amount of time, at the Puckerman residence. Santana still had Mr. Schuster's phone number, but he obviously didn't mean it when he said they could all count on him. Santana continued her walk down the blocks for thirty minutes before she passed the Berry residence. She rolled her eyes at Finn's car that was parked out front. 'Still not desperate enough,' she thought to herself and continued down. With nowhere else to go, McKinley seemed the safest bet. It would be getting dark soon and she'd be damned if she slept with the hobos.


The school year didn't start off perfect for Rachel, but it was still slightly better than the rest of her years at McKinley. Even with the food fight, the burnt purple piano, the drone Rachels and Kurts that had been at the NYU event, and the loss of two of their better performers, Rachel was still hopeful and rebuilt. Kurt had helped her along and she just knew that Quinntana would come to their senses on their own terms and in their own time. Whether Quinn and Santana wanted to admit it or not, Rachel knew that they loved Glee Club as much as she did. They really were a family in her mind and that would be the thought that she held onto as Finn fumbled to decide what he wanted to be.

"How about a mechanic?" Finn finally spoke and broke through Rachel's train of thought completely. She lifted her head and looked at him with a confused expression. She wasn't sure how many times she would have to go over this with him, but Rachel was determined to keep patient.

"Dreams of being a mechanic won't get you to New York, Finn." Finn had only recently decided that he wanted to head to New York with Rachel, but it seemed that he was constantly wavering back and forth. "How about a business degree? You can start your own shop in New York when you graduate. Or, you could even start up a music shop. I know how much you love the drums. Speaking of music, you could be a music teacher. Though I will admit that their income and benefits leave much to be desired, but you will have the summers off to do with what you wi-" The dazed look on Finn's face caught Rachel in the middle of her speech. It was rare for anything to keep Rachel from finishing a pep talk, but she could just tell that everything was going in one ear and out of the other. She loved Finn, truly, but sometimes his lack of focus frustrated her to new ends.

"I don't know, Rachel. That sounds like it would take a long time. I just want to get in and get out. Maybe something that will only take two years," Finn stumbled over his words as he thumbed through the packets.

"An Associate's."

"I don't even know…. What kind of career is that?"

"It's not a ca-…" She looked at him for a moment to see if he was kidding. He obviously wasn't.

"It's a two year degree and that won't do. It's barely any better than a high school diploma. Actually, receiving a Bachelor's isn't even a big deal anymore. Everyone seems to want Master's degrees from their employees. I suggest you ready yourself for at minimum six years of school, five if you work hard." The shocked look on Finn's face told Rachel to slow herself down before the poor boy gave in to a heart attack. "Look… It's going to be okay, Finn Hudson. You don't give yourself enough credit. You are a smart boy and you're going to be just fine. I'm going to help you the entire way." Rachel slid her hands over his and flashed him the most comforting smile that she could. The uneasy expression faded and soon there was a smile on Finn's face that matched Rachel's perfectly. He leaned over the table that wore a thick layer of pamphlets from New York colleges and pressed his lips to hers in that way that always signaled the commencement of an approaching make out session. Rachel pulled away with a hint of a smirk on her face. "Finn, focus."

"Oh, I'm trying to." Finn moved back in again, but Rachel gave in this time. Her father's weren't home and, well, she was only human. Actually, she was a teenager with more hormones than one could bare.


After another fifteen minutes of walking, Santana found herself at McKinley. She made sure to avoid the campus cams that, because of a previous school prank, she knew were positioned at every corner of the school. Figgins was a bit of a stickler when it came to spending money, so San knew that he hadn't bought the expensive cams that rotated. Nope. He merely had regular mini cams taped to the wall with duct tape. It sucked for school security, but it made getting into McKinley a lot easier than sneaking into other high schools…not that San had snuck into Mt. Caramel to trash their auditorium or anything.

San snuck behind a tree and eyed the two corner cams that guarded the back of the school. It had gotten a bit darker so San had some shadowing to hide behind. When she figured out the exact path that she needed to take, a signature smirk played at her full ruby lips. She walked over to the fence, climbing it all too easily. Her cheerio skirt fanned out as she jumped down from the fence, landing on the other side with bended knees in a Charlie's Angel-like pose. (Obviously, it had been playing on Cinemax that week.) Confident in her plan and calculations, Santana strutted right up to the back doors.

The back door was locked, of course. Santana half expected it to be, which is why she chose this entrance instead of the one in the front of the building. Coach Sylvester's office window was usually left open so that her office "could air out the stench of loser that it gathered throughout the school day." San stuck to the wall as she made her way to the window. Careful not to scrape her uniform against the brick, she slid up to her window and glanced down. Open. Perfect. She gripped the bottom of the window and shoved it upward without any strain at all. Say what you will about cheerleading, but it definitely left San with some serious upper body strength without ending up with a Lauren-esque figure.

San slithered into the window, plopping onto the floor with a very loud and very painful thud. "Motherfucker!" Santana yelled out then quickly rushed her hands to cover her mouth in an attempt to silence herself, remembering where she was. She stayed still for a minute or two just to see if there had been some late night visitor that she had alerted of her presence. When there was no sound, with the exceptions of the left over echoes of her outburst, she pushed herself up from the floor and carefully exited the office. The last place San wanted to stay was in Coach Sylvester's office. She was anal and knew every inch of her office. If anything moved even the slightest bit, she would know someone had invaded her space. Santana knew better.

The safest place seemed to be the auditorium. There was a prop cot and blankets that she remembered spotting during last year's rehearsals. They would surely help her get through the night. 'The night,' San repeated the words in her head. She would be spending the night at McKinley. The fact that she had actually gotten kicked out of her house and was now seeking refuge in the only place that would take her was finally starting to settle in. It halted her stride a bit and, if you had seen her, it would look as if she might actually break down a bit. She didn't. Not being great with handling emotions, even her own and while alone, Santana opted to focus on the task at hand.

Before she even went to the auditorium, she had to make a stop. Santana walked down the eerily silent hallway that seemed only a ghostly representation of what it served as during the day. It was interesting to her. During the day, her newly earned crown meant so much. She had a kingdom and a reign. There was nothing to rule over now, not at night. It was all so temporary. Santana shook her head of her thoughts, swaying her pony tail from side to side. She needed to head to the girl's locker room before she did anything else. Showing up at school un-bathed tomorrow just wouldn't do.

Santana walked into the locker room. She left a gym bag in her locker with extra clothes that would come in handy now. It was a trick she picked up from Rachel and Kurt after she had experienced her first Sue Sylvester dirt bomb and Karofsky-delivered slushy. Santana flinched at the memory as she walked up to her locker and spun the combination in casually, as if nothing was wrong at all.


Rachel let out the tiniest bit of an accidental moan when Finn's lips worked on her neck. As per usual, he took that as a green light to try his hand at testing the waters with Rachel. Finn rolled Rachel over so that he was on top of her. She flinched at the sudden weight, but he quickly caught on and leveled his weight onto his arms. Grateful that he did, Rachel gave a playful smirk and pulled Finn into another kiss carefully so she wouldn't bite his already on the verge of bleeding lips. (She tended to get a little rough after a while of their make out sessions.) Finn slid his hand up her signature plaid skirt and played with the edging of her panties. Usually, he'd try to warm her up to the idea, but lately he had been becoming 'quite the eager beaver' as Rachel put it. She didn't stop, but she moved her hand to grip at his and slid it back down. He trailed his kisses from her lips down her chin and neck until he arrived at that one spot that always got to her, right above the collar bone. He never quite hit it, but he always came frustratingly close. Rachel let his hand go and slid her finger tips into his hair, tugging at it a bit, trying to guide him to it. Finn took the opportunity to slide his hand back down again, slowly this time. She bit his lip rougher than he would have liked to give him the hint to stop.

"Ow!" His outburst actually jolted Rachel a bit. "Damn, Rach." He spoke plainly but sat up, pressing his hand to his lips to see if she had broken the skin. There was a sticky heat that he already knew was bloo, even without looking at the result on his fingertips. "A little rough with the biting there, babe." Rachel sat up and slid in closer to him, running her thumb over his bottom lip without an accidental seductive demeanor.

"I'm sorry. I get a little carried away sometimes," she spoke sheepishly as if her intention hadn't been to stop him. Finn smiled and shook his head, leaning back in toward her. Rachel pressed a hand to his chest to stop him before he came in closer and became a little too much to resist.

"You remember that I want to wait until I'm of an appropriate age or win some kind of award for my acting on Broadway to engage in sexual intercourse, right?" She blurted the words out and seemed to be anything but bothered by the straightforwardness. Finn, on the other hand, looked a bit awkward. Or, could it have been disappointment that laced across his face?

"What? But, we've been together like a year now."

"No… We dated. Broke up. Dated. Then broke up again. Now, we are dating again." She spoke matter-of-factly, as if that would convince the boy.

"Okay, but if you add all of that up we've dated a year." Finn quickly rose to his own defense in a very animated fashion.

"Even if we were to go by your logic, I said I would like to wait until I was 25 or, at least, until I graduate high school," Rachel cocked her eyebrow. It wasn't as if this was coming out of left field. She consistently and constantly spoke of her plans of the future to the boy. It made her question how much he actually paid attention to her.

"Yeah, but, Rach, come on. We're going to be together forever, so does it really matter if we wait or not?" Finn spoke confidently. The boy was sure that his argument would sway the girl. To him, it seemed to be a rock solid argument.

"Since we are going to spend forever together, waiting a few years until I am fully ready to handle the responsibilities that go along with sexual interco-"

"Can you stop calling it that?" Finn fidgeted.

"What..?" Rachel asked, slightly agitated.

"Say sex…the other word's too long and it wigs me out."

"Right…. Anyway. As I was saying, waiting a few years until I am fully ready to handle the responsibilities that go along with..." She tried not to roll her eyes. "...sex won't matter." Rachel crossed her legs on the bed and laid her hands on her lap as if she was at some type of debate club meeting.

"Rach, I just want to be with you." He placed his hand on her knee and she lifted it up, placing it onto his own knee. Rachel got up from the bed and started to walk around her room, attempting to look disinterested in the conversation.

"You are with me. You are there. I am here. Therefore, you are here with me. You are with me." Rachel tried to reason her way out of the conversation so they could end on a good note instead of their usual argument on the matter. Finn plopped himself back onto the bed with a bounce and sighed heavily.

"Do you really want my last time to be with her?" Finn blurted out the question without really thinking it through. Rachel stopped dead in her tracks as her jaw dropped. Realizing, without any help this time, that he had messed up, Finn shot up from the bed and quickly began his apologizing. "I didn't mean that! I'm so sorry, Rach! That wasn't fair." He moved in toward the girl who was becoming increasingly questioning. 'Her', she thought. Finn and Quinn had dated last year for a bit. Had they slept together? Was Quinn the 'her' he was referring to? Or, was Santana his first and only sexual partner? The question played at the girl's curiosity as the giant continued to plea his apology. She almost didn't want to ask, but she just had to.

"Did you sleep with Quinn?" Finn hesitated at answering Rachel's question and, for her, that was already a bad sign.

"No." Finn's answer looked shaky, but Rachel wondered if she should question him again. He looked around and locked onto the clock. "Oh wow, it's late. I should actually get going before your dads realize I spent all this time here while they weren't home. I don't wanna get my beautiful girlfriend in trouble." Finn leaned in and gave Rachel a quick kiss on the cheek before rushing to grab his bag and leave. When Finn was at her bedroom doorway, he turned back and smiled at her. "I love you."

"I love you too," Rachel said instinctively. The words felt weird against her lips, meaningless almost. He seemed to be in all too much a hurry for her not to suspect that something had happened that he had decided to leave out of their conversation. She learned from the whole Santana-virginity issue that it may be best to just go to the source. Tomorrow she would just have to ask Quinn herself. Or, she could just pretend the question never came up. Knowing herself very well, it would be the former rather than the latter. Rachel sighed heavily as a light anxiety rose in her chest. The whole thing had left a sour taste in her mouth.