A/N: So, sorry this took so long. I got so stuck on this one because I can only get ideas for the future of this and it's annoying cause I can't get there. Hope you guys enjoy this. The song in here is Love is a losing game by Amy Winehouse. Thanks to all you guys for being so patient and still reading and reviewing if you actually still are.
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.
"Shouldn't Leroy be coming with us?" She wondered as she started the car.
"Really, we're fine without him," I assured, "It's probably just a reading today."
"How do you keep talking us into this? Can you do that to Hiram too?"
"Well, Daddy trusts you and I assume you do it out of a sense of obligation." I shrugged and then shook my head, "Dad doesn't seem to trust you quite as much so it might be harder."
"How about you?" She queried, "How're you feeling about me so far?"
I looked her over for a moment, watching as she shifted the car into reverse, "While I understand that it isn't your responsibility, I appreciate that you put up with me on more than a professional level."
She scoffed at that, "Don't make it seem like I'm suffering."
"I understand that I can be difficult-"
"Not how I'd put it," she interrupted, "But when you aren't being preachy you're pretty interesting."
I couldn't help the small smile that overtook my face at that.
She took us out of the parking garage before she went on, "I get my fair share of people who think I'm difficult too."
I found that hard to believe. Aside from her tendency to avoid answering questions she hardly seemed difficult. If anything she was almost any parent's ideal child. She was brilliant and gorgeous, and although her choice of career wasn't as ideal, she was definitely very determined.
}{
Our drive was pretty quiet. I fiddled with the radio or read the directions we'd looked up while Santana drove. Every so often we'd point out sites to keep in mind for later visits. She did her best to focus on driving but at lights I noticed her attention elsewhere, like the boutique I was certain she wouldn't have found in New York or the jeweler that didn't have a branch in Jersey. When we arrived at the studio she tried to convince the security guard to let us in but apparently the bulky old man wasn't particularly swayed by her annoyed tone. Finally I found the pass I'd been given which made us seem a bit more serious. After parking we had to find our way to the set, where the director was excited to see me.
"Hey, if it isn't our star!" A man with graying hair jumped up.
"Hello Mr. Jameson," I greeted with a smile.
He pulled me in for a hug, letting go when Santana cleared her throat behind us, "Clyde is fine, really. Should I be getting to know your friend here?"
When I looked to Santana she shook her head, "I suppose not."
"Just pretend I'm not here," she suggested.
"Alright," he gave us both a confused look before starting on his explanation of the set as he led us around.
Santana hardly seemed interested in the tour, yawning and adding her own sarcastic commentary to everything. As we met other cast members they seemed to take her advice before she gave it. She did a fairly good job of making herself seem less important than she really was. My leading man, a tall chestnut haired boy named Cyrus hardly seemed to care about her as he was introduced to me. I would have been glad to speak to him a bit longer but Clyde insisted we move on. There were a few more cast and crew members before anybody else really caught my attention. Clyde led us to a false staircase with what looked like a partially inflated air mattress at the bottom. I was going to ask what we were looking at when a girl fell from the top of the stairs onto the mattress. I couldn't help the worried shriek that came from my lips until I heard the chuckling from all around me.
"Rachel, calm down," Clyde urged, still laughing. "Cosette," He called the girl over.
She struggled out of the mattress and when she brushed her hair out of her face and jogged up to us, I couldn't help but notice the eerie similarities between the girl before me and the reflection I saw in the mirror every day."Hey Clyde, this her?"
"Yep," he nodded before turning back to me, "This is Cosette, your stunt double."
The girl held her hand out to me, grinning.
"Uh, hello, it will be a pleasure to work with you," I gave a polite smile.
"You were right," she told Clyde while examining me, that smile still in place, "I'm perfect for the job, we look like twins."
"I told you," the man beamed.
"Should I be getting to know her too?" The doppelganger asked, looking behind us to an intrigued looking Santana.
"It's not necessary but I suppose it would be in our best professional interest," I found myself watching the girl's reaction Santana.
"Santana," The raven-haired girl offered.
"Interesting," her voice took on a subtle tone of its own, "I think I'll join your tour."
I felt myself grow annoyed with the girls presence as the tour continued. Clyde kept introducing me to cast and crew members that even found themselves shocked by the similarities between me and Cosette. I tried to pay attention to the tour but I could only half listen as I found myself more interested in the flirtations going between the girls behind us. Clyde's tour fell on deaf ears as I tuned into the voices behind me. Finally we were outside, heading towards what looked like a parking lot full of trailers. After showing us the make-up trailer he led us to a series of smaller ones.
"I hope you don't mind, but you and Cosette will be sharing this one," Clyde offered.
The other girl was already on her way in.
Santana held the door for me.
"Our read for the first scene is tomorrow," the man offered over his shoulder. He disappeared into the maze of trailers.
The small space was already sort of decorated; a loveseat in the corner had a couple of blankets and pillows strewn across it. The small vanity had a few bottles and tools scattered across it. I watched as Santana made herself comfortable on the loveseat while Cosette went to the mini-fridge and pulled out some water bottles. It wasn't until both girls were staring curiously at me that I realized I'd just been standing awkwardly around.
"Come here," Santana called, moving to the arm of the couch and I took the seat next to her.
"So, what exactly is up with you two?" Cosette asked, tossing the bottles to us.
"I work for her," Santana offered, opening her water.
"So there's nothing going on with you two?" The girl asked, taking a seat next to me.
Santana scoffed past her bottle, "Should I answer that or would you like Rachel to go into a rant about how incompatible we are."
"You act as if I have no reason to speak to you as I do. All I do is give my opinions on your choices and provide details as to why I feel that way. I could just as easily leave you with no explanation as to why I feel the way I do. Would it be preferable that I give you empty comments, or how about I do as you would and answer everything with a quick and snappy remark?"
"Probably," she nodded, staring boredly at me as she took a sip from her water.
"Does she breathe?" Cosette asked.
I only huffed and crossed my arms.
"What was the last one about?" Santana asked me.
"I don't know," I scowled.
"Wait, I know, you were complaining about my jacket," she smirked, leaning forward to bump my shoulder with her elbow.
"I like your jacket," Cosette got up to move past me and stand unnecessarily close to Santana as she fingered the collar of her coat, "I think it's sexy."
I couldn't understand why it made me so upset to see this girl flirting with Santana. It probably wasn't the best response but it was still somewhat satisfying to see both of their faces when I said, "Hey, why don't you see if Cosette would like to meet you and Ramona tonight. You guys are going out aren't you?"
Santana turned and gaped at me, her face pale as she looked me over, trying to discern if I'd really just said that.
"Is that a friend of yours?" Cosette asked, examining both of us for a moment.
"Yeah, a friend," Santana offered, glaring at me slightly.
"I'm going outside for a smoke," The shorter of the two offered, letting go of Santana. She didn't exactly look upset, but I couldn't read her expression as she walked outside.
"I'll join you," Santana called, her annoyance more obvious as she walked outside.
I sighed, feeling guilt settle over me.
I stood up and went to the door, pushing it open and expecting to see at least one girl upset with the other. Instead I found Cosette pulling away from Santana with a mischievous smirk on her face. The shorter girl walked away with a slight wave, before pulling a cigarette from a small box. I notice a similar figure between Santana's fingers, although hers had somehow already been burnt halfway down. I stepped down from the trailer and looked up to her, ready to say something.
"If it's not an apology I don't want to hear it," she cut me off before I even had the chance to say anything. She brought the small white stick to her lips and I couldn't help but scowl at it for a moment.
I sighed, waving the smoke she was blowing away from my face, "That's terrible for you. It's going to destroy your lungs, skin, teeth, and while I'm sure you don't care, I should let you know that I'd rather not be to blame for you feeling as if you need to ruin your health for the sake of talking to her."
"I think there was an apology somewhere in there," she still didn't sound pleased.
"While I don't see it as acceptable for you to two-time your girlfriend," her scowl deepened at that, "and my co-worker, it probably wasn't my place to mention Ramona."
""Probably?"" She repeated, taking another deep drag from her cigarette.
"It wasn't," I ceded.
"Whatever," she breathed, exhaling a cloud of smoke.
"I didn't think you were the type to smoke," I wondered.
"Not usually," she dropped the butt of the cigarette stomping it out with her shoe, "But I couldn't stay in there without saying something to you I might regret."
I wanted to be offended but I sort of deserved that.
"Can we go home?" She asked, pulling out the keys.
"I suppose, if we aren't needed here any longer."
}{
She didn't say anything, just led me back to the car. The drive was more silent and direct this time. When we did reach the parking garage it was the first time our height difference became more apparent. I'd grown used to her always walking behind me or at my side, but she seemed to be reminding herself that she had to wait for me as she kept ahead of me. I couldn't even see her face. When we reached the apartment she just made her way to the room. I couldn't think of any way to make it up to the dark-haired girl without upsetting her further so I just went to my own room.
"Rach!" Daddy called as I stared at my door, contemplating an apology.
"Coming," I returned, sighing as I put my planning on hold, making my way to the kitchen.
"How was the first day?" Daddy asked from over his laptop.
I shrugged and took a seat on the opposite side of the bar.
"Something happen?" He looked up from the screen.
I thought over how exactly to tell him, deciding directly might be the best, "I might have let a girl she may have been interested in know that she's seeing somebody else."
He sighed and looked down to his laptop before closing it, "I thought she wasn't exclusive with that other girl."
"She isn't but that doesn't mean she should just be-"
He cut me off, holding up his hand, "I know this won't be the last time I say this, but Santana's an adult, and as long as her personal life doesn't interfere with her job, it's none of your concern."
"But-" he stopped me once more.
"Rachel, she really doesn't need to share her personal life with you, and the fact that she has tells me she isn't exactly looking for you to judge her."
I nodded silently.
"Don't make her uncomfortable sweetie, she's already gone pretty out of her way for this job," he reminded before opening his laptop again.
I nodded again, looking down thoughtfully.
"Other than that," he started, his tone softening, "How was your first day?"
I shrugged, "It was alright. We got a tour, and met some of the cast and crew which were interesting."
"Anybody of particular interest?"
"This one girl," I couldn't help but feel distaste come up at the thought of her, "My stunt double. She looks exactly like me."
"Is she the one Santana was flirting with?" He wondered, something akin to entertainment crossing his features as he continued working.
"Yes, why?" I found myself annoyed.
"You just didn't seem too thrilled to mention her," he pointed out.
"And you're suggesting I don't like her because Santana does?"
He shrugged his amusement more obvious.
"Daddy, really, I don't care that Santana was hitting on her, just that she was doing it while she has a pseudo relationship going on with another girl. I didn't believe it was fair to either of them."
"Rachel-" he started.
I slid off of my seat, "I know. It's not my business."
"Just try and be a little less, well, forward with your opinions," he offered.
"I will," I assured before heading down the hall. I knocked hopefully on the door just a few feet from my own, "Santana," I called.
No response came.
"Santana, may I please speak with you?" I asked past the barrier, twisting the doorknob to find it was locked.
Again, I'd gained no response. I was going to walk away when the door barely opened to expose Santana, she didn't exactly look upset but I didn't enjoy the indifference plastered across her features.
"I really feel that I should apologize for the way that acted earlier," I started, "So can I come in?"
She didn't move the door; instead she just waited for me to go on.
I did so, with a sigh, "It wasn't fair of me to bring up Ramona while you were so obviously soliciting Cosette. It's no business of mine who you choose to court and when."
She still didn't say anything.
"Santana, while I assume that you might be upset with me, as unwarranted as it may be," she started closing the door again, and I quickly added, "From my vantage point, I hope that we can get past it."
Her jaw clenched thoughtfully, and I assumed she was going to snap at me; instead she closed the door again. I heard some rustling behind the door and in a second she'd opened it again, her familiar leather coat on, "I'll be back."
"Where are you going?" I asked, following her to the living room.
"You can't come with me," she stopped at the door, pulling the keys from her pocket and handing them to me. It was somewhat comforting to know she didn't need to get far enough away from me that she'd need the car.
"So you tried apologizing?" Daddy asked from the kitchen.
I turned to glare at him over the bar.
"Sweetie, I know you. You don't make anything easy on anyone. Just let her cool off and she'll come back, it's not like she has anywhere else to go."
}{
I groaned and headed to my room. I sat around for a few moments, wondering what I could do to earn Santana's forgiveness. I couldn't think much further than apologizing. Eventually, I started reading over my script. I wasn't quite retaining anything, just going through the motions of reading. I hadn't even realized how long I'd been staring at the script when the front door closed. I heard a quick greeting between Santana and Daddy. I tried to listen for the familiar pad of her feet as she came down the hall but it didn't come. A few moments passed and I finally went out to look for her. Her room was clear, and Daddy was still the only one in the kitchen. He suggested I check the game room, and I saw a fairly dim light trickling from it. When I entered the room I saw the light to the small patio on. When I went to it I saw Santana outside, sitting on a steel chair with her feet up on the small metal fence. A small glow came from her hand and I finally slid the glass door over.
"Have I started something?" I wondered, leaning against the metal fence.
"Probably not," she took a long drag from the cigar, "There's less appeal now that I can buy them on my own."
I watched as she let out the smoke slowly, focusing as her mouth form almost a perfect O and rings slipped from her lips. "How do you do that?"
She snorted, "I'm not showing you."
"I don't expect you to," I started, "Can I just see how you do it?"
She finally looked at me, before blowing a stream of smoke out.
"Please?"
She waved me forward, taking another drag, with her right hand she reached out, squeezing my cheeks, "Make an O," she demonstrated. The rings came out of her mouth slowly and I watched them.
"Those smell nice," I offered, as I leaned back "Much better than I expected."
"Chocolate," she held up a small box.
"Cigarillo?" I read the package curiously.
She laughed slightly, dropping the package back onto her lap, before correcting my pronunciation "Cigarillo."
"While I'm aware of my earlier comments about possible side-effects that smoking may have-"
"I'm not letting you smoke," she assured, looking back to the city before us.
"Why not?" I asked, following her hand as she flicked some ashes into a cup on the ground.
"Lungs, skin, teeth, and whatever else you said," she mumbled, rolling her hand dismissively.
"By that logic you shouldn't be smoking near me," I started, "Second-hand smoke can be just as dangerous as if you were to actually hand me yours."
"Not helping your case," she gave an amused smirk.
While I was glad she didn't seem as upset with me, I couldn't ignore the annoyance I always felt at that smirk.
"Besides, you're the one who followed me out here."
"Well if you would have just talked to me instead of leaving and staying out all hours of the night we wouldn't be out here," I argued.
"Talked about my non-existent relationships?"
"Yes," I ground out, "No- I mean- I apologized."
She was putting out the butt of her cigarillo and starting a second, "An apology doesn't usually include lecturing me."
"Not that I haven't brought up some valid points," I mumbled but at her glare I shook my head, "Daddy mentioned that I can be very forward with my opinions and I understand that you may not be very appreciative of them, especially when they can come off more as criticisms. You may or may not have noticed that my social skills are often more appropriate for professional occasions than more lax events such as hanging out, so I really do appreciate your willingness to do as much with me when I can be awkward."
She pulled the cigarillo from her lips and sighed, "A good wingman talks up their friend." At my confused look she added, "Just some friendly advice."
"I'll try to be a better wingman next time," I smiled, glad that she wasn't upset.
She laughed at that, "Can't wait to see how that goes."
"Can I try now?" I held out my hand toward hers.
She looked down skeptically, "What kind of friend would I be if I let you smoke?"
"One that encourages new experiences," I offered.
She chuckled before pulling her feet from the fence and letting the chair drop, "I foresee myself corrupting you sooner or later." She stood up and stretched slightly before moving behind me. With her right hand on my shoulder she held the cigarillo up before me and I couldn't help but hold her wrist slightly. "One drag," she urged. "Don't inhale it like a cigarette, just pull it into your mouth," she informed, and I nodded before pulling the small stick between my lips.
I followed her instructions, doing my best not to pull the smoke in too far. It was sweet and the chocolate taste was obvious.
"Now make the O with your lips and cough gently," she mumbled, watching me closely.
That wasn't too hard, especially since the moment I opened my mouth I had to fight the urge to have a coughing fit. The smoke rushed out rather than forming the delicate hoops that they did when Santana performed the trick.
"You inhaled didn't you?" Santana asked through her laughter as she pulled the stick away from me and rubbed my back.
"Yeah," I mumbled as the cough dissipated.
"Trust me," she grinned, "It could have been worse."
"How?" I wondered, glaring at her.
"You could have thrown up," she informed me, urging me inside.
As I opened the door she put out the butt before following me inside. "What exactly is a wingman supposed to do?"
"Talk me up," she shrugged, following me to my room.
"How?"
"Make me sound good," she sat on my bed, shrugging off her coat, "Help me to convince a girl I'm worth her time instead of making her think I'm two-timing her."
"But you are."
She gave me a pointed look, "Not if they're only after the same thing."
"What exactly do Ramona and Cosette see in you?" I wondered aloud.
"Ramona wants somebody on her arm," she mumbled.
"She doesn't care that you chase other girls?"
"Only because it makes her look bad. I probably won't get back to her."
"And Cosette?"
"I'm not entirely sure yet, maybe just the same thing as me."
"Oh," I mumbled. "How exactly do I talk you up then? I mean, I doubt most girls would respond well to, "She's only using you for sex, but its okay because you can use her to make appearances.""
"You could try it," she grinned cheekily.
"It's not even like you need me; you seem to do just fine on your own."
"Oh, I do," she nodded, "I'm a catch, with or without the commitment. But we're friends," I smiled as she said that, "And I want you to feel included."
I wasn't sure how I felt about helping her meet girls that she probably wouldn't bother speaking to after she got what she wanted from them, but I did look forward to what she made seem like normal friendly behavior. We settled in my room, talking and working on some of my school work for a while. Eventually, I found I kind of liked listening to her hum random songs while she ran through the assignments. At some point I stopped giving any sort of input and found myself trying to discern the songs, hoping for some lyrics to slip out but they didn't.
"Sing," I urged, looking up to her.
"What?" She mumbled, not looking up from the screen.
"The song you're humming, can you sing it?"
"Um," she blushed slightly, trying to keep her eyes on the screen.
"I just can't think of the name," I urged, "If you sing it I'll be able to figure it out."
"It's-"
I cut her off quickly, "No, please just sing it."
She looked like she was going to keep arguing, but she just sighed and nodded.
"Though I battle blind
Love is a fate resigned
Memories mar my mind
Love is a fate resigned
Over futile odds
And laughed at by the gods
And now the final frame
Love is a losing game"
She'd sung the words lowly, but it was obvious she was talented. When she finished she let the last words sort of trail off. She didn't keep humming and I barely registered that the sound of her fingers rushing across the keyboard had stopped as well. She licked her lips, looking nervous for the first time since I'd met her.
"What?" She finally asked, her cheeks taking on a slightly pink tint as she looked at me. "I mean, I know I'm no Broadway star but you asked."
"No, you weren't bad," I gave a small smile, "It was nice."
"If you say so," she forced her eyes back to the screen and the sound of her typing picked up again, although not as quickly."
"Why don't you sing more often?" I wondered.
"I just," she shrugged, "Don't."
"With some training you could probably be really good," I assured.
"That was almost a compliment," she teased, relaxing once more.
"I'm being serious," I shoved her playfully.
"Well, as sure as I am that you are, I don't see myself going very far with it. I mean, when have you heard of a singing bodyguard?"
"You dance too," I reminded, "It could work."
She laughed at that.
We continued that way for a while, her humming started again, but she didn't start singing even with my prompting. Daddy called us to ask what we'd be having for dinner. Even though I'd visibly blanched when he asked what smelled like chocolate, Santana took the blame. Daddy still seemed to know but let it slide when Santana assured it was just on the patio. We ordered in and settled for a movie.
"How are you dealing with this?" Santana asked Daddy as she glared at the television.
"Texting Hiram," he mumbled as he tapped furiously at his phone.
"Hush," I urged both of them, "You two could really learn to appreciate talent when it's before you."
"I'd appreciate Big Bird if he stuck to singing about the alphabet instead of butter," she prodded.
"She's not- That's so- That's not what the song is about Santana," I couldn't decide which remark to be more offended by.
She looked far more amused than she had during the course of the movie.
"Barbara Streisand is a treasure, and I don't appreciate you disrespecting her talent in such a way," I scowled at her.
She couldn't restrain her laughter as she looked to Daddy, "I thought you said this was normal."
"I said this was natural for us," Daddy argued, gesturing between the two of us.
"Should've taken the hint," Santana scoffed.
"I don't suppose you could think of a better movie-" before I even finished she was down the hall.
I heard the door slam shut before she returned a DVD case in hand.
When she handed it to me I read, "Million Dollar Baby?"
"Four academy awards," Daddy supplied, still not looking up from his phone.
I looked to him, obviously annoyed, "Really? I mean, Hilary Swank, Clint Eastwood, and Morgan Freeman are quite a cast but could some boxing movie really be that good."
"I have Girlfight if you'd prefer that," Santana offered snarkily.
"Rachel, take what you can get," Daddy warned, glancing up from his phone in amusement.
"Fine," I sighed, waiting for Santana to put it in.
}{
"Admit it," the taller girl urged from behind me.
"Admit what? That it had a slightly more developed plot than I was expecting? Fine. It did."
"Admit that you liked it," she pushed, "You cried. I saw it."
"Of course I did, the ending was sad, that doesn't mean the rest of the story could quite compare."
"You're just mad there was no singing," she laughed.
I rolled my eyes, "Singing is a very useful media for expressing emotions."
"And so is a good hit," she assured.
"That's terrible," I scowled.
"If someone hits you, you can pretty much tell their upset," she shrugged.
"You're terrible," I corrected.
"You'll learn to love me," she assured.
I was still scowling when we parted, making our ways to our own rooms, but I was a little overjoyed that she'd not only forgiven me, but thought of me as a friend. As I changed into pajamas and settled into my bed, I started thinking of her voice again. It was scratchy and rough, obviously abused by her smoking and lack of use and exercise, but somehow that made it better. The words of the song filled my thoughts for a moment and I couldn't help but wonder if maybe it sounded so nice because it had something to do with her.