Warnings: I don't own Glee or any of the characters or any of the songs I may use. This will include lesbian sex, maybe some hetero but it's not likely. Possibly Finn bashing, I'm not entirely sure how yet, but I'll try to find a way, might even toss in some Jesse bashing.

The month after our trip was interesting to say the least. Santana showed up at our door at least an hour before I was even awake every time she knew I had a meeting, interview, or for any reason I'd need to leave the apartment. Even times that I had to call her at the last minute she was more than willing to go along with me. What made these visits interesting was that every time she showed up something was always different about her. First she showed up with a black eye, next was a split lip, a tear in her coat, a change in her gait; she usually explained them as souvenirs from sparring matches at the gym, which she still refused to take me to.

Dad still wasn't thrilled with the idea of her staying with us but, eventually, he'd been outmatched by me and Daddy, so when the time came, Santana was back on our doorstep with a larger suitcase than before, a backpack, and her briefcase. The flight was the same, but this time I was surprised to see that she boarded using a driver's license rather than a state ID. She refused to hand it over for me to see, rather, taking amusement in holding it over my head, even Daddy seemed a bit amused, but they spent a good portion of the boarding process trying to get me to talk to them. Finally we were off the plane, taking a rental to the apartment that was meant to be ours for the duration of the stay.

"I call the master," Daddy announced carrying his suitcases quickly as he shoved open doors hurriedly.

Santana stared in shock, most people really weren't used to seeing him act so immaturely, "Does he really think we'd try for it?"

"I can't say for sure," I shrugged, taking my suitcases to look for a room.

"This place is huge," Santana followed me as we passed the living room, a dining room, a game room leading to a patio, and finally came to the rooms, doors already opened by Daddy.

"I suppose," it seemed moderate to me, the game room was a bit much, but other than that it seemed quaint.

"You take the one by the bathroom," she gestured, shoving the door open further.

It had a full bed with moderate decorations, the usual dresser, and two nightstands. I was glad to see the desk in the corner as well. Santana was already in her room unpacking. Her room was very different, as if it was anticipated this was her room. Her bed was a twin with one nightstand, and a much smaller dresser. The suitcase she had laid out was open and what I'd assumed was clothes turned out to be books, and other belongings. She was shoving clothes messily into the dresser when I came in.

"You aren't even going to fold anything?" I wondered, watching her shut drawers.

"Nope," she shook her head.

"Let me help," I offered, starting to remove things and fold them.

She watched curiously as she stopped for a moment, "Why?"

"Because this is horrible," I explained, replacing everything in the drawers, "You should really be more organized.

She scoffed as she moved on to her books. She organized them against the wall on top of the dresser, and I got distracted from my current task as I read the spines. SAT prep, novels, and textbooks were lined up.

"You could've taken the bigger room," I offered, continuing on the drawers.

She rolled her eyes, "I'm sure nobody would have minded me taking the bigger room in your apartment."

"Really," I mumbled, "I don't need all that room."

"And I do?" She'd opened her briefcase now, and started lining up her weapons. She was far more organized about them; knives going from smallest to largest, her gun and the pellets together, and her stun gun set up by the pepper spray.

"Well, there's a desk you could study at," I suggested as I looked between the weapons and the books.

"I can study in bed," she was staring intently at the tools, straightening them out carefully.

"You'd be closer to the bathroom," I added.

She smirked, "I can make the walk."

I would have gladly continued the the argument, but a deep voice called, "Girls, meeting in the, um," I could almost imagine Daddy turning around to figure out which room he was in, "Living room."

Santana lead the way this time.

"Alright, so," Daddy beamed as he turned from the giant television, "Good news is, the refrigerator is as bigger than my bed."

"And the bad?" Santana wondered.

"It's absolutely empty," he pulled out the keys, "I can go pick us up something but we'd still need to go grocery shopping sometime this week."

"Santana and I can go," I volunteered, "Since she has her license, I mean."

Both their eyes were on me, Santana in disbelief, and Daddy with uncertainty.

"It'd be a good way for us to learn the area," I offered.

"Well," he looked from me to Santana, "Are you alright to drive?"

"Sure," she nodded and held her hand out for the keys.

He handed them over and gave me his debit card, "Please, whatever you do, please don't hit anyone or anything."

"I learned how to drive in New York and New Jersey, I'm sure I can handle California," she assured confidently.

He laughed and nodded, "I trust you to find the meat. If I leave it to her," he tilted his head toward me, "We'll be stuck eating tofu dogs, which I don't entirely trust."

"They are both delicious and healthy," I argued, crossing my arms.

"As true as I'm sure that is, I doubt they can compare to the murderlicious and detrimental taste of a nice greasy hamburger," Santana assured, high-fiving my father as I gaped at them in disgust.

}{

Santana, I discovered, was actually a decent driver. While she was particularly relaxed, driving with her right hand on the wheel and her elbow out the window, it was obvious she was used to this. What she wasn't used to was the automatic shifting; when we left the drive way and when we parked, her hand always instinctively went to the cup holder. She hardly even complained while I toyed with the radio, as long as I kept my eye out for landmarks to help us get back home.

The entire time at the grocery store was mostly just Santana and I bickering about our purchases. My biggest concern was produce, and at first I thought hers was the meat. I was disgusted just by the amount of meat she got, to the point that I made her put it in one of those hand baskets just to keep it away from the rest of the groceries. Eventually it became a compromise, she got real ice cream while I got Silk instead of milk, we got lightly frosted flakes with an extra bag of sugar, and I got meatless spaghetti sauce as long as she could get chicken flavored ramen noodles. Some microwavable foods for the both of us and drinks were by far, the most common ground we had. The most concerning purchase of the night happened in the candy aisle.

"Candy isn't food," I pointed out from the side of the cart.

She was already pulling down a few packages of chocolates and candies when she replied, "It's totally a food."

I watched her for a moment, "You can't seriously plan on eating that much," I lifted up a particularly large package, "What could you possibly need two pounds of Twizzlers for?"

"To eat?" She said, as if it were so obvious.

"Or to share with the entire city?" I suggested.

"Hey, I'm not stingy," she assured.

"All of that's going to ruin your teeth," I groaned as I watched her head towards the checkout lanes.

She shrugged, "I have other assets, trust me."

We piled everything onto the conveyor belt and I paid for the food with Daddy's debit card. Santana had accumulated her own small pile of supplies, razors, soap, shampoo, and conditioner, but it still paled in comparison to the candy she'd purchased. She paid with her own card and then helped me get to the car. The drive home was a bit more difficult, we couldn't remember if we had made a right at the Starbucks or if we were supposed to. I suggested we make the right while Santana made a left. About ten minutes later she begrudgingly made a u-turn and passed the coffee shop. I called Daddy in the car and he was waiting for us in the parking garage, waiting to help us take in the groceries. I was a bit upset when we they had both broken into the bag of Twizzlers before we even had all of the groceries out of the trunk.

Inside I made Santana put away the candy before the two finished off the whole bag themselves. We put the groceries away and Daddy began on dinner, grilled-cheese sandwiches; Santana admitted to being impressed when I found vegan cheese and butter at the store. I was ready to settle at the beautiful mahogany table in the dining room but Daddy and Santana were far more willing to drag me to sit in front of the television in the living room, and I had to admit it was pretty fun. Dad would have killed over before he allowed it, but since he wasn't there, we enjoyed a couple of movies. After dinner Santana offered to help me unpack, but I only agreed on the grounds that she not put away clothes.

"So, when's shooting start?" She wondered as she set up my books on the shelves around the desk.

"In about a week," I supplied, folding the clothes and laying it out on the bed.

"What're we doing until then?" She asked, organizing the books.

"Well," I began, "I assume we'll both be needing a gym, and I think it'd be best if we could find one to accommodate both our needs, and I'm sure Daddy wouldn't mind accompanying us."

"You just want me to keep teaching you how to fight," she pointed out as she continued with the books.

"While I wouldn't be opposed to that, I also believe that being physically fit is important in my line of work," I started putting the separated piles of clothes into their respective drawers.

When I turned to see her she was smirking mischievously at me, "You just want to hit me."

"I try not to think of myself as a violent person," I couldn't hide my amusement at the idea being able to hit her.

"You say that now," she winked before finishing the books.

}{

Daddy was more than willing to join us at the gym the next day. I looked up the nearby gyms and found one with appropriate boxing facilities for Santana and optional lessons for me. We went early in the morning and Daddy strayed from us quickly, heading to the sauna. Santana followed me to the treadmills where we claimed two next to each other. I set mine for a brisk jog but hers was set to a swifter pace. My thirty minute jog paled to the run that she endured.

I found myself watching her as she ran, her chest rising and falling with controlled breaths and her arms pressing back and forth as she stared ahead at the mirror before us.

She mouthed something as she caught me watching.

The chorus of pounding feet replaced my exercise playlist as I took out my ear buds, "Excuse me?"

"You must be looking at something pretty interesting," she smirked, brushing a piece of hair that escaped her bun behind her ear.

I felt myself flush a bit but hardly acknowledged it, "I was just wondering when I could possibly watch you go about your usual routine."

I doubted she believed it, but she hit the cool down button on her machine, "Whenever you want."

"So what would you normally do first?" I questioned as we both finished.

"Stretch," she found her way to what seemed like an entirely different gym quickly.

A boxing ring in the center of the room was surrounded by people doing various other things. Some were on mats stretching out, others attacking large bags, jumping rope, and practicing together using what looked like oversized catcher's mitts. In the ring were two people sparring. Santana lead me to the mats where she procured two for us and began showing me some stretches, and I was impressed by just how flexible she was, and I wasn't alone as some of the other occupants of the room took notice of her as well.

"Have you ever considered yoga?" I wondered as I followed her, sitting down with my feet together before me and my heels near my groin.

"No," she scoffed, leaning forward, impossibly far, with her head between her knees, "That's too much sitting still."

I tried to follow but found that I couldn't get nearly as far down as her, "Yes, well, I assumed you'd be good at it considering how flexible you are."

She sat up and shook her head, "I don't like to be stationary for too long, and I doubt yoga would be too helpful for me."

"I heard it can be very calming," I replied, choosing to just watch her next position.

"You're just trying to get me to take a class with you, aren't you?" She questioned, leaning on one foot with the other stretched out behind her.

"While I wouldn't be opposed to that," I started, "It was just a thought that maybe you could benefit from a less violent form of exercise."

She rolled her eyes at that, "Yoga isn't exactly the most qualifying skill for a bodyguard," she repeated the motion on her other leg, "and fighting is the most calming thing I do."

"How can it be calming?" I wondered, confused at the statement.

She smirked, "It's calming because if I smack someone around in the ring, then I'm less likely to do it outside."

"That's terrible," I chided, "Have you considered anger management?"

"I failed," she shrugged and led me to an empty bench.

I watched as she searched through her duffel bag, her usual coat sticking out from the bag, "How do you fail anger management."

"Like I said, I'm less likely to hit some passerby when I've been in the ring," she pulled out what looked like gray tape.

"You hit your anger management instructor?" I asked, trying to get her to clarify.

She nodded as she began wrapping her hands, "Among others."

"Surely you could find a more healthy way to vent your frustrations."

She stood up and gestured around the gym and then to her body, "Can't say it's done my body too wrong."

I had to admit her form was ideal. She was taller than me, but that wasn't saying much, with long lean legs, and subtly sculpted arms, and a flat plane highlighted by slight toning for a stomach. I remembered ways her body had been wronged, "You'd show up with a black eye or a limp every other week."

She waved that off, "That's nothing. Those heal and I move on, besides, I look good with a black eye."

"I'm sure you could convince yourself you'd look good covered in fur," I assured.

"Werewolves are in right now," she grinned cheekily.

After tucking everything back into her bag she led me to what looked like a small sack hanging from a board. Santana lowered it until it was at her eye level and lifted her fists to begin striking it. It bounced against the board above it before returning to the following fist as she rotated them across the bag. Her motions were so smooth and fast that I couldn't tell one blow from another. The thud of the bag became a constant rhythm. I'd gotten pretty lost watching the girl before me hardly break a sweat as she hammered the bag, and I'd have been certain it would have continued for quite some time had a girl not passed and drawn her attention away. When the spell was broken and the constant smack of the bag slowed to a dead stop I followed her line of vision to see the dark-skinned girl waving her towards the ring.

"You wanted to watch me spar, right?" She asked, grabbing her bag and not breaking eye contact.

"Spar, but that hardly seems to be what either of you are interested in," I mentioned.

"For now it is," she shrugged, beckoning for me to follow as she went towards the ring. She turned to me and pointed to the bench, "Sit. Don't talk to strangers."

"I'm old enough to sit by myself while you trounce about, flirting with anything that crosses your path," I assured.

She gave me a look that clearly said she'd be offended later, but as she looked up to the girl watching us from the ring, she nodded, "Good girl." She pulled some trinket from her bag before climbing in the ring.

The two moved to the center, a mischievous, almost predatory smirk on Santana's lips before she slipped the trinket into her mouth and I saw that it was a guard.

"You're new here," the darker girl pointed out.

"Does it show?" Santana wondered as they began.

"No," the girl took the first hit but Santana easily dodged it, "I just like to think I might have known you if you were a regular."

"Can't say I'd mind being a regular if you're the welcoming committee," San assured, going for a shot.

They were too quick to monitor each and every move but hits were obvious, the thud of knuckles on torso was not lost on me. The wince one of them elicited each landed was another sign. They didn't seem to be going by rounds. As long as they kept talking, they kept moving.

"A proper welcome involves a tour, right?" The girl suggested a smirk to match Santana's own tugging at her lips.

"Typically, yes," the Latina agreed.

"Maybe after?" The girl wondered.

San shook her head, ducking below a quick jab and upper cutting, "I have to work."

"Let me guess," the girl started, obviously deterred by the last blow, "Dancer?"

"Usually don't get paid for that," San answered.

"Definitely could," the girl assured, "Greeter at a store?"

"I'm not exactly a people person," Santana shrugged.

"I guess that would explain why you aren't getting paid to dance," the girl winked.

Santana laughed at that, amusement coating her features, "It would."

"Model?" The girl supplied.

"I'm flattered," Santana grinned.

"Do I get a hint?"

She nodded in my direction, "I tail her all day."

"Stalker?" She teased.

"Try babysitter," she laughed.

They both paused their scrapping as I shouted, "I'm hardly a child!"

They continued for probably half an hour. Daddy even showed up to watch along with me. It was easy to tell neither of them was very committed to the actual fight but with the wince-inducing punches it made me wonder what an actual match for Santana was like. When we left, Santana was sure to get the girl's number. Apparently, Ramona was interesting enough for Santana to keep her number. I couldn't help but wonder what the qualifications for any sort of legitimate attention from Santana were. As we left the gym, she and Daddy discussed her history with the sport and he admitted an interest in it when he was younger.

}{

The rest of the day Santana was in her room. I tried distracting myself with my schoolwork and venturing through the apartment. The game room was alright although I wasn't particularly interested in the pool table. I took my script to the living room to study, but eventually that became monotonous. Finally, after about seven Santana came out of her room clad in black skinny jeans, a white camisole, and her usual black coat. Where her hair was usually either in a messy bun or hanging naturally down, but now it was flat-ironed into slight waves, cascading over her shoulders.

"Are you going out?" I wondered as I saw her looking around.

"Yeah," she nodded, "Where's Leroy?"

"The kitchen," I supplied, "Where are you going?"

She nodded and headed for the kitchen door, "Out."

"With Ramona?" I asked as I followed.

"Maybe," she shrugged, "Mr. Berry."

"Oh, hey kid," he greeted her, peaking from the fridge before returning to his routing.

"Is it a date?" I asked.

"No," she shook her head, "I was wondering if I could go out, I mean, if you don't need me here or anything."

"Of course," he grinned, closing the door as he brought out the makings of a sandwich, "You're an adult, and it's not like Rachel's got much to worry about around here."

"You two speak like I'm a child," they both leveled me with their gazes, before I returned to probing Santana, "If it's not a date can I go with you?"

"Rach, give her a break," Daddy said, "Let her have a night."

"Thank you, Mr. Berry," she smiled at him, before grinning and elbowing me playfully, "At least we'll have plenty of fun on your dates."

I flushed slightly, "I thought you said this wasn't a date."

She just smirked and left.

"You might have benefitted from siblings," Daddy pointed out.

"What do you mean? I was merely wondering about her plans for the evening," I clarified.

He chuckled, "She made a valid point."

"About what?"

"I don't need to worry nearly as much about you dating, with her around," he beamed, putting away his materials and taking his sandwich.

"That's hardly fair," I argued, "How come she gets to go out on dates?"

"Because she's pretty much an adult and this is time off from her job."

I glared, "We're almost the same age."

"She doesn't need a bodyguard," he reasoned, leaving the kitchen.

}{

I wasn't even tired, just consumed with curiosity of Santana's evening. It was well past midnight when I heard the soft pad of feet and the creaking of her door. I went to my own door and crossed the hall silently, wrapping my knuckles on the door lightly. She beckoned me in and I saw her tousling her already ruffled hair, a look of relaxation across her face. She hung her coat in her closet and turned to me, revealing a dark mark on the side of her neck.

"Is that from earlier?" I questioned, moving closer to look.

"What?" She pulled back slightly, and as I pressed my finger to it she hissed slightly, "Oh. No, it's not."

As I looked closer I realized what it was, teeth marks more obvious, "Oh."

"Did you want something?" She asked, sitting on her bed and stretching.

"I wanted to ask about your night," I really was curious, I wanted to know everything.

She quirked an eyebrow and nodded to the foot of the bed, "Ask what?"

"What did you do? Where did you go? Was it with Ramona?" I offered, hoping to get an answer to at least one as I sat.

She leaned back on the bed, "We went to her place."

"And?" I urged.

That usual amused smirk crossed her face, "I'm not sure what you want me to say."

"Well," I began, picking at the comforter, "Was it a good night?"

"Very," she nodded.

"Might it be happening again soon?"

She brought her hand up to chew at her thumb thoughtfully before a curiosity of her own reared its head, "Why do you care so much about my night? Don't you have other friends to gossip with?"

I worried my lip slightly at that, not really wanting to answer. Sure, there had been coworkers and cast-mates who, on some level, I'd clicked with, but we hardly maintained more contact than an odd phone call or a quick e-mail update. I'd never been exactly the first person on everyone's mind when it came to fun.

She sensed my hesitance and sighed, "She said she wouldn't mind it happening again."

I smiled and pulled my legs up to my chest and faced her, "Would you."

"I wouldn't," she shook her head, crossing her legs, "But I'm not exactly looking for anything right now."

"So you just wanted the one date?" I wondered.

"You're intent on this being a date, aren't you?" She laughed.

"Why wouldn't it be?" I wondered naively.

"Because I don't date," she explained.

"Then what did you do tonight?"

"Hooked up," she shrugged.

I couldn't help it when my eyes widened slightly, "But you just met her today."

She nodded, her delight at my shock growing.

"That's terribly irresponsible of you. I can't believe you'd act in such a promiscuous and unsavory manner. Honestly, I noticed you were a bit of a flirt but I hardly believed you were the type to actually behave with such abandon. Ignoring the obvious health risks you've opened yourself to, hadn't you even considered how you might appear otherwise? I mean, you might be a bit rough around the edges but surely you don't think as little of yourself as to portray yourself as loose," I ranted on, continuing even as she rubbed her temple.

To her credit, her gaze remained sober and unclouded unlike most people's until I finished, "I want to be upset that you just called me loose, but I'm pretty winded just from listening to you."

I scowled at her, "Well, when you behave as such, I think somebody should point out the hazards to you."

She waved me off, "I'm aware of what I'm doing, thanks. I know exactly what I get myself into and I always know my way out. People are always going to have opinions of me, why should I stop enjoying myself because of that?"

"You're obviously enjoying more than yourself," I pointed out, "and it gives people the wrong impression. Why would you want people thinking that you're only good for one thing, or god forbid, only after it?"

She smirked at that, "I'm good for a great deal more than that, and I suppose I really am just after one thing. Care to take a stab at what it is?"

I blushed furiously at that and crossed my arms, "Santana, that's hardly appropriate."

"Why? Because everyone else says so? Because it makes me look loose?" The conversation took a far more serious tone than I'd expected it to, "I'm young and like sex, what could I possibly have to wait for?"

"Love," I supplied firmly.

She stared blankly at me for a moment, as if gauging my seriousness. The silence went on for quite some time. Eventually I felt myself blush again as her gaze bore into me, waiting for some sign that I was joking.

"What?" I finally broke the silence.

"You're serious, aren't you?" She asked.

I confirmed with a solid nod, "I am."

"So, you've never," she let the question trail off.

"No," I shook my head, "I haven't done that with anyone."

"I feel," she began, gesturing to herself as she tried to explain herself, "I feel as if I should have sensed this. I mean, it's one more thing for you to get preachy with me about, so I should have just known."

I huffed, amusing her further, "I'm not preachy, and I just believe that in some aspects of your life you could be making better choices."

"So you vocalize your opinion on each matter and suggest ways I might better myself?"

"Exactly."

"Which might also be known as preaching," she pointed out.

I glared at her, loathing the grin that covered her face.

"So, anymore questions for me?" She asked.

I wasn't sure if she was serious but I had plenty more, "When did you start?"

Her eyebrows knit together slightly and she worried her lip.

Before she could answer, I thought about Daddy's earlier suggestion and gave her a break, "You probably aren't going to answer anyway."

She maintained the same thoughtful expression and shook her head, "It's not that I don't want to answer this one, I'm just not entirely sure I want to hear what you have to say." I was about to argue that I was hardly the one judging her but reconsidered, "Try me again some other time."

"Well, are we going back to the gym tomorrow?" I tried changing the subject.

Her expression relaxed a bit more at that, "Isn't there something else you'd rather do? We can work out here, if that's really what you want, or find a park."

"A park might be nice," I mumbled through a yawn.

"Realize," she started, "That I'm not carrying you to your bed."

"You won't have to, I'm awake," I stifled another yawn with the back of my hand.

"And I'm considering a career in commercial fishing," she slid down into the bed with her arms behind her head.

I rolled my eyes at her, "If you want me to go, just say so."

"You don't have to go, just try and plan the next sleepover in your room, unless you like being crammed into this bed like sardines."

"Did you go to a lot of sleepovers as a kid?" I wondered, watching her curiously.

"No," she mumbled, "Nobody invites the new kid, the angry kid, or the girl everyone thinks got kicked out of school."

"Or the bossy girl who follows every rule," I added.

"Maybe she'd have invited me," she offered, her voice barely above a whisper.

I couldn't help but smile at that, before standing up to turn off the light. I didn't know if her's was a real offer but when I laid with my back to her in the small bed, she didn't wake to reprimand me. I curled slightly and rested with my arm as a pillow. A small part of me admitted that she was just putting up with me, she worked for me so she was obligated to be nice, or that she just pitied me. More than that, I enjoyed the feeling of having any experience resembling a real friendship with anybody but my fathers.

}{

I'd become very used to waking up in hotel rooms and places that weren't my home, but that morning was particularly disorienting. A fog of sleep kept me from recognizing the comforter I was under, or the books I'd yet to read, and the weapons on the dresser. The door creaked open and a familiar voice filled the room before a body followed it. Santana came in, humming a song I should have recognized but couldn't quite place it, drying her onyx locks with a towel. She'd finally changed into more appropriate sleepwear, a t-shirt and some bicycle shorts.

"About time you woke up," she mumbled as she dropped the towel on the foot of the bed.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" I grumbled rubbing my eyes as the night came back to me.

She grabbed a brush from somewhere and started untangling her hair, "Less work for me, but less sleep too."

"What do you mean?" I questioned as I sat up.

"You snore like a damn lawnmower," she explained and pointed to the door, "I spent most of the night in the living room."

I blushed at that, "I do not!"

She rolled her eyes, "I'm going to record you."

"That won't prove anything because I don't snore," I assured, moving out from under her comforter.

She shrugged and sat on the bed to continue with her hair.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled.

"About?" She asked indifferently, putting the brush down to run her fingers through her hair.

"Getting "Preachy," as you put it," I sighed, looking over her, "You're an adult, I suppose, and what you do in your own personal life is your own business, and I should probably be more appreciative of your willingness to share what you do with me."

"Doesn't matter," she waved me off, "I'd prefer an apology for those monologues that you put me through but I'll take what I can get."

I huffed slightly at that but she cut me off before I could complain.

"Come on," she waved me forward as she stood up, "I'll try to figure out how to make you breakfast."

}{

"I read the package already," Santana repeated, "I'm pretty sure they didn't just blast "Vegan" across the box to increase sales."

"You never know," I snatched the box from her while she mixed the batter with water, "It's a good idea to check just in case."

"If you don't stop questioning me I'm going to mix in some chocolate chips and ruin the whole damn batch," she declared.

"I wouldn't be entirely opposed to that," a deep scratchy voice came from behind us, "You wouldn't happen to do eggs too, would you?"

"Of course, sir," Santana grinned, snatching the box back from me and placing it on the counter.

"Stop with that sir nonsense," he waved her off as he took a seat at the bar, "Leroy works."

"Alright," she nodded, starting to pour the batter into the heated pan.

"So do you two have any plans for the day?" He wondered.

"San said we could go to the park," I mentioned, watching her pull the pan away from the stove top to flip.

"I was hoping you'd forgotten about that," she groaned as she went to the fridge quickly and returned with some eggs.

"Can we go after breakfast?" I asked, finally tearing my attention away from her as she cracked them into another pan.

"I should probably get some work done," Daddy supplied, "Call Dad today."

"I will," I nodded.

We ate breakfast at the bar, Daddy and Santana devouring their eggs while I ate my pancakes with cut up strawberries. Daddy gave Santana the keys once more and we left for the park. She'd changed from her t-shirt but kept her bike shorts on. As we drove, looking for a neighborhood that might have a park, we talked a bit over the radio.

"Do you really want to work out today?" She wondered, leaning lazily forward against the steering wheel.

"It doesn't necessarily have to be a serious work out but it could be nice," I shrugged.

She leaned back slightly, "I guess."

"Or you could teach me how to drive," I offered.

She scoffed at that, "A quick jog sound good?"

"I'm a quick learner, really," I assured.

"Shouldn't you call your dad?" She changed the subject quickly.

"I will, but this might be a good time to teach me," I offered.

"Just call while I look around."

"Will you at least think about it?" I wondered, pulling out my phone.

"I have, and shouldn't your dads teach you?" She wondered.

"They say I probably won't need it," I shrugged.

"I get that," she nodded.

"But I'd like to be able to. It's one more thing I can't do by myself," I groaned.

She nodded and looked to me as we reached a stop sign, "I'd probably be pissed if I couldn't leave the house without someone at my side."

"I don't mind you, I actually kind of like your company," I sighed, "I just want to drive, or go out at night, or be left alone for a while without someone expecting something to go wrong."

She sighed, "Make the call, and I'll see what I can do later."

"Really?" I brightened quickly.

She waved me on and continued searching for a park.

I dialed the number quickly and waited for the answer on the end, "Rachel, sweetie, how are you doing?"

I smiled at the comforting voice, "Hey dad, how are you?"

"I'm great, just got off of work," he went into a rant about a client that went into his office for the day. I just listened for a while until Santana finally pulled into a parking lot, "So how are you and Daddy."

"We're doing great, actually, we've both been getting along with Santana really well too," I added.

"Oh, that's good," he didn't sound pleased.

"She made us breakfast and we're exercising together," I added, "Actually we just got to the park."

"Just the two of you?" He asked, concern tinting his voice.

"Yes, she drove us," I explained.

"Rachel, sweetie, I really don't think that's the best idea."

"Why not? She has a license," I felt myself growing frustrated.

He groaned on the other end and mumbled to himself, "I told Leroy this was a bad idea," before he raised his voice purposefully for me to hear, "Rachel, she's your age running around like she's some sort of- of-"

"Bodyguard," I supplied, "Because she's my bodyguard."

"She's a child playing pretend," he argued.

I scowled at the phone, "Well, then I guess we're pretending I haven't been attacked by any assailants on the street or over-excited fans."

"And what is she going to do if you are, Rachel? She's barely bigger than you, and I'm sure she puts on a nice show at the gym, but what happens when some brute with a gun attacks you?" He demanded.

I dropped the phone to my lap and sighed before bringing it back up, "I hope we don't have to find out. I have to go, Santana wants to start stretching."

"Rachel, this conversation isn't ove-" I hung up, dropping the phone to my lap again.

I felt eyes on me, but I scowled out the windshield.

"Which way's west?" Santana mumbled from next to me.

I looked to the compass on the rearview mirror, locating the small glowing N, before pointing to the west.

We drove in silence for quite a while; I'd even turned off the radio at some point. I couldn't understand why Dad was so against Santana watching over me. It's not like he or Daddy could be with me 24/7 and Santana seemed happy enough to just go along with me. I knew Santana was young but she seemed well-off enough to take care of herself along with me. It became blaringly more obvious as the ocean came into view.

"What're we doing here?" I asked, my earlier frustration being replaced by confusion.

She smirked proudly at me as she searched for a parking space, "We are being left alone without anybody expecting anything to go wrong."

"Dad expects plenty to go wrong," I sighed as she got out of the car.

She rushed to my side and opened the door, "Trust me, I'm the worst thing that's going to happen to you today."

I couldn't deny the burn that coated my cheeks as she winked at me.

She locked the car and put some change in the meter before leading me along the sidewalk. She brought me to a cart and bought me a snow cone. We went to the sand sat below a palm tree. It's not like I'd never been to the beach before, but it was different this time. With Santana I was distracted from my annoyance, and while I wasn't entirely alone, I still didn't mind her company, I felt more independent than I would have with my dads. Later, when I accused her of being sweet, she claimed she'd only taken me to the beach because she didn't want to run. Although I was opposed to it at first, I'd even sort of enjoyed it when she convinced me not to tell Dad and Daddy.