She wakes up again, alone in a massive bed, to the mingling scents of cologne coming from the bathroom and coffee drifting in from the hall. His hair is slicked back into its usual style when he hands her a new cup of coffee and the bright jeans and the fitted polo almost make him look like he always has. The tiredness has gone from his face but lingers in his gestures as he moves onto the terrace and settles on the wide railing.
"Thank you." He says it like she's given him something important and it makes her twitch because he always pulls the rug from under her, every time he opens his mouth. She's always found him a bit disconcerting because he is always in control, not just of himself, of his surroundings, and most of the time no one even seems to notice. He's so agreeable it's baffling how willing he is to do everything people tell him to do. He does it with a smile and he can concede every fight with something that looks so much like deference, like submission, and somehow still win the battle.
Now that they're both fully awake everything seems different. She made demands. She invaded his home, his bed, and his personal space and he allowed it. The ball is firmly back in his court whether he acknowledges that or not and he's taken what he wants in return. Santana is left with the uncomfortable feeling of being at a disadvantage that she grew so used to in his presence that it feels familiar still, after a year of barely seeing him. Whatever it is he's taking from her is more valuable to him than his home and she doesn't have to know what it is to be afraid of parting with it.
She knows she is one of very few people with the good sense to fear Blaine. He's too nice by half, but he knows he's too nice. A weak spot is only as weak as the armor you cover it with.
He's always willing to give more than he's asking for. It looks generous to the point of stupidity and entirely too trusting but it's not trust. Blaine is never caught out. He says yes to almost everyone almost all the time but he doesn't trust them.
He trusts (trusted?) Kurt. It's strange to think about that relationship from his end because she knows Blaine has spent the better part of a year trying to earn back Kurt's trust, but she has no idea if Kurt ever regained his. She can't even be sure he knows he lost it in the first place. It's not like Blaine would have stopped obediently doing anything Kurt asked of him.
For Santana, dealing with Blaine has always felt like betting with someone who is willing to set diamonds against coal. Everyone assumes he is insane but he always walks away smiling and she can't figure out if he just knows he's going to win or if he knows something about coal she doesn't. It's exhausting to always be left wondering what he's actually taken. She hates feeling like she's playing a game where she doesn't know all the rules.
Blaine allows everyone around him some imagined advantage but he can only lose to someone he trusts, everything else is a tactical concession. It would be interesting to see which one would meet a demand from Kurt now. Could he still lose to Kurt?
He smiles at her like he hasn't disrupted the earth beneath her feet and she shakes the tension out of her arms, turning to face the sea of trees instead.
"So when are Trouty and Girl Chang getting here?"
"Tina is in LA and Sam is in Tennessee." She hadn't really been paying attention when they all went back for graduation. There was a kind of unspoken divide between the new graduates and the old, the broken relationships creating an uneasy space between them. She's surprised they all went different ways though; they had seemed disconcertingly close.
"Wheels?"
"NYU, I think he moves into the dorms next week." He gives her a sad smile before continuing. "Brittany is in Chicago; Mike helped her get a job at a studio, teaching little kids."
"Then I give up, who were you planning on shacking up with?"
"Why do you assume I wasn't planning on living alone?"
"You have six bedrooms." She's not even sure if that's true, she hasn't opened the doors but it seems like a reasonable guess.
"Maybe I just wanted the space."
"You hate space."
He raises his cup in recognition of her point. "Doesn't mean I don't need it." He takes one last look at the view and smiles at her and then he's gone, the glass door sliding shut behind him.
It takes her three weeks to move in, during which time the carpenter Blaine has hired has managed to construct a beautiful kitchen, but no real effort has been made to finish a bedroom. Officially Santana is crashing on his couch, but all of her things are spread out through his bedroom, not that anyone would know, considering no one else has come to visit.
Adam is the first to comment on the shift, the third time she comes back to the loft and grabs random possessions but he's easily silenced and doesn't question further when she tells him she found a warm body to entertain her. Rachel and Kurt are more invasive but she tells them even less. She still hasn't given the moving card back and it feels like a silent staking of claim somehow, even though she knows Artie will have gotten one and they probably know where Blaine lives by now. It doesn't take long for everyone to write it off as Santana being reckless again and they all assume she'll be turning up at their door again once whatever fling she's engaged in peters out.
Blaine eventually starts classes at NYADA and neither of them mentions how their sleep schedules rearrange themselves uncomfortably to where they can sleep together and it only takes a few weeks before Santana has found a discreet, classy jazz bar with live entertainment that's closer to the apartment and the day she puts on an elegant black dress and comes back from work before midnight he looks at her like she single-handedly hung the stars.
"9-4-3-7-8-1"
"What?" She knows exactly what those numbers are, how could she not? In normal cases this would be where she had to defend her snooping (usually in a fairly abrasive manner), but with Blaine all she can do is look at his smile and brace herself mentally.
"I noticed you looking pretty intently at the safe earlier. I figured I'd save you the trouble. It's mostly deeds and stuff, a few heirlooms and trinkets."
Every time she pokes her nose through a gap he throws the door wide open and it makes it harder and harder to step back and see the boundaries, even while he never crosses hers. "You just gave me the combination to your safe?" She can physically feel another piece of something crossing the table into his waiting hands and shakes her head and ignores the sensation.
"Were you planning on stealing something?" He's still smiling. He's always smiling. "Besides, if you're going to live here you might want to store valuables in there."
Snooping feels different when she's been given permission. She considers for a second that he might be bluffing but it wouldn't be at all like him to hold back so the click of the safe unlocking is entirely unsurprising. There are folders and binders with initialisms that mean nothing to her stamped along the spines and a number of boxes, wooden and velvet covered and she pulls out a rectangular box, flipping it open to reveal a pearl necklace.
"They were my grandmother's. She willed them to me, for my future wife." There is nothing in his voice when he mentions her, no fondness or bitterness or even sadness. It's a strange thing to hear from him. "You should wear them, I'm sure my future wife won't be offended."
"So your grandmother was...?" She isn't sure how to end the sentence. Like mine? Like your father? Rejective?
He shrugs. "I don't know. She died the year before I came out. To be honest she was mostly a check in the mail every year, I never really knew her. She lived in New York for most of her life though, and she took me to see my first Broadway show the one time I came to visit her so I like to think that she would have been accepting."
She allows the subject to drop in favor of reading the swirly golden letters embroidered onto the inside of the lid. "A thing of beauty is a joy forever..."
"Its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness; but still will keep a bower quiet for us, and a sleep full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing." He drops into his performance space and she grabs the first thing in reach to pull him out. She has the constant need to keep his mind firmly in the room with her and he allows himself to be dragged back by her questions. She isn't even sure what she's asking if she's being completely honest, she just knows she won't let his mind wander.
"We don't borrow against our homes. It's one of the few things my family can agree on. Never wager anything you can't afford to lose." She isn't aware of having asked him about mortgages, but his answer is so like everything she's thought about him that she can't help but feel vindicated. It's a strange feeling of accomplishment that accompanies the confirmation that she's the only one who's always known she was losing.
It's no wonder his family is rich. She can't decide if his family's apparent lack of the subservience ingrained in Blaine makes them more or less dangerous than him.
It's close to Christmas when she finally goes a bridge too far. It's not even intentional, not really. She's done so many things just for the sake of testing him that the thing that finally makes him snap catches her by surprise. It doesn't even matter what prompted it. The second she hears him say the words "How could you do this to me?" she knows what's coming. She isn't sure if he does.
"Did you know that's the first time you've accused me of doing something to you?"
His confused look is the worst part because she's learned one thing since she moved in with him. He doesn't know he always wins, and that is why he always will. He doesn't even understand that what he takes from people isn't what they're offering. He's bartering on the terms he understands and he assumes everyone else knows what they're giving him. "What are you talking about Santana? I feel like I'm screaming at you every other week."
"Yeah, about all the things I 'just can't do to people'. You never stand up for yourself; you stand up for everyone else. It's like you're constantly going 'it's fine this time, since it was just me, but this isn't ok.' Never mind your parents, fuck them, do you care about you at all?"
He deflates and sinks onto the bed. "I..."
"No, don't do that!"
"Do what?" He looks completely lost and she wants to scream at him because they're fighting according to his rules, the least he can do is look like he's happy about winning.
"Thank me. You're about to just chalk this all up to some life lesson I'm teaching you and let everything be fine. I read your diary. I fucked up your relationship. I still did all those things!" She just needs him to react like a normal human being for once in his life and not just forgive her and accept everything that happens to him. "You're allowed to be angry for more than five seconds Anderson. You're allowed to be pissed because I did it to you, not because it was a bitchy move in general. You're allowed to go out and get drunk and wail on a heavy bag and still not be fine!"
"Would any of that help?" He reaches out to grab her hand while she paces but she steps out of his reach.
"You know what yeah, it just might. You're so careful with everyone else but it's like you don't even know the meaning of the word boundaries. I showed up here out of nowhere, we weren't even friends, and I moved into your place, hell, into your bed and you didn't say a word to stop me." He refuses to understand that everything is fucked and she doesn't know how to deal with his brand of incognizance.
"What if I didn't want to stop you? What if I don't want boundaries? What if I just need you here?" He looks so tired, drained of everything but she still feels like he won. He watches her throw random clothes into an overnight bag with the most heartbroken look she's ever seen him wear and she almost cracks the mirror in the elevator with her fist as she screams and tries to stop herself from wondering what she's lost.
Adam opens the door to the loft when she knocks and silently brews her a cup of tea, smiling uncertainly at her as though she might take his head off if he asks her what's wrong.
When she walks back into their room he's sitting on the bed, staring at the bedroom door, looking for all the world as though he hasn't moved in the week she's been gone. She knows if she asks anyone they'll tell her he's been just as congenial and bubbly as ever. His eyes don't leave her for a second as she tucks her clothes into the hamper and changes into a nightgown. He barely blinks until she lets her head fall onto the pillows and he sags visibly with relief when she allows him to draw her over to his side, one warm arm coming to rest along her spine, fingers circling gently at the nape of her neck.
She lets the panic still coiling in her subside, convincing herself that whatever he took he can have. She falls asleep watching the fatigue drain from his shoulders.
(A/N: Believe it or not; when I outlined the plot, this chapter was light and mostly fluffy...)
