Title: Makin' Music
Pairing: Santana/Rachel, Quinn/Brittany
Rating: T
Disclaimer: Because all fic writers own Glee, right?
A/N: Holy crap... over 1,400 hits on the last chapter... I was kind of antsy about the whole declaration of love part (it sort of hit me that this fic's been incredibly fast paced), but it's gone down well, I think, so that was a relief. I was kind of kicking myself for doing it but the reviews were kind, so yeah. Thanks for that, guys. Um, the editing might be a little bad because I stayed up 'til 2am to do this. Again. And at the last minute I made some major changes to the plot, so if things are a little out of place, that'll probably be why.
A/N 2: As requested, there shall be jerk!Finn coming right up... and I threw in a bunch of other stuff here and there.
Hope it's okay.
Makin' Music
"Hey, Quinn," Brittany nudged Quinn playfully, as they ambled through the mall, having been enjoying a leisurely day shopping with her girlfriend. They had spent the previous night at Brittany's house, considering Judy wasn't all too comfortable with both Brittany and her daughter being in the under the same roof in one night, doing 'whatever you lesbians do', after accidentally walking in on the two making out in Quinn's room. Actually, the real reason Quinn suggested they leave was that Judy had recently begun seeing a man, David, and she wanted to leave the house before he arrived, because he might not have been comfortable with it.
At least David was somebody that Brittany's father had introduced to her from the police station where he worked and not some bigot from church; all the men from church were stuffy, watered down versions of her father. After hearing her mother describe him to her with a spark of hope and joy in her eye, Quinn knew he was different and she wanted to give her mother enough space for it to work. She had been three months without Russell Fabray and surprisingly enough, they hadn't been bothered once by the man, apart from one drunken episode a few weeks after Quinn had moved back in with her mother.
And really, though Quinn insisted that she wait until he was okay with people being gay in general, he had shown up early and Judy had told him right there and then that the other blonde next to her daughter was Quinn's girlfriend – thankfully, he didn't seem to care.
Quinn found her mother's attempts to integrate her new 'lifestyle choice' into her home life quite endearing. Judy felt a tad awkward about it, but she was trying, and that was all that mattered to Quinn. It certainly helped that she was dating Brittany – the girl diffused the whole coming out situation with a large smile and an innocent remark that made Quinn's heart swell. It turned out that even Judy Fabray wasn't immune to one of those smiles and despite her announcing to her mother that she was a lesbian and then being struck with a lightning bolt, nothing happened. It was only a few words, a hug and a Spanish omelette for dinner.
"Yeah, babe?" Quinn hadn't really been paying attention to her surroundings – only the taut muscle of Brittany's waist firmly held with her right arm. Brittany's arm was equally as tight around hers, though it was loosening as the taller girl was pulling the couple to the right as she subconsciously moved towards Breadstix.
"Breadstix is over there, and you promised me we could double date with San and Rachel," she explained, smiling brightly and leading Quinn towards the restaurant. "I wanna book a table for seven tonight!"
"I thought we were going to get smoothies?" Quinn asked smoothly, veiling her panic. She hadn't remembered about that particular promise to Brittany, seeing as she sent most of her free time keeping all the others. At a glance of her watch, Quinn saw there would only be around six hours until the meeting. Not that she was afraid of Santana, but the girl didn't like things to be sprung on her much.
"I'll go book the table myself!" Brittany declared, letting go of Quinn's hand and flouncing towards Breadstix. "Oh, and can I have a mango one?"
"No problem," Quinn replied, grinning widely.
She made her way towards the smoothie store, slipping her hands into the shallow pockets of her jeans as she wove through the crowd. Quinn hadn't been interested in coming to the mall, but Brittany had told her there was a giant stuffed duck on sale in one of the stores down there, and how could Quinn resist? Yeah, she was whipped. But it felt so good.
As she rounded a corner, Quinn heard a familiar voice behind her. "Not out with Britt, today?"
"Finn." Quinn ground out, turning around to face Finn in the crowds. "What are you doing here? Taking your boyfriend out to watch the game?" Quinn inwardly snickered at that one. He and Sam had been spending a lot of time together lately and she'd seen Kurt looking mighty jealous at the lack of attention Sam was paying him while Finn was indulging his need to influence somebody because he was the golden boy quarterback.
"No," Finn growled. "Unlike you, I'm perfectly straight."
"Don't even start with the homophobic comments, Hudson," Quinn warned. "It's bad enough that you verbally abused your own stepbrother like that, let alone your friends."
"Yeah, well you're not quite a friend. You're a filthy whore," he spat, advancing on her, closing the gap between Quinn's body and the wall. "And you're using Britt."
"Oh I am, am I?" Quinn curled her lips in disgust at Finn's insinuation that she would even think of hurting Brittany.
"You're just using her and messing her around, while you experiment," he hissed, looking down on her, "You messed me around last year with the whole Beth thing; I don't think you wouldn't do something like that again."
"That is not fair!" Quinn growled. She felt a lump in the back of her throat begin to grow, as she remembered what little time she had spent with Beth; he didn't have the right to throw her daughter's name around, as if she was worth nothing more than an excuse for Finn to stroke his grossly swollen ego. "We never spoke as my pregnancy continued, Finn. I grew up and began to explore things about myself that I hadn't even considered before; but you never got to see that, because you were too busy stringing Rachel along."
"Yeah, and I'd have had a shot at getting her back if you didn't lump her together with that raging dyke Santana for that duets competition," he spat, pushing her back against the wall, "You're just a cold, manipulative bitch who ruins people's lives and you'll never, ever change."
"Stop it!" Quinn snarled; her throat scratchy from the tears she was trying so hard to suppress. "Stop trying to make yourself out to be some victim – you're not the golden boy, Finn. Might I remind you that you cheated on me with Rachel last year!" Quinn gained some height, her confidence building as her voice gained an increasingly irate tone, "You even dumped her to date Santana and Brittany last year, and I might add, that Santana certainly didn't think you put on a first class show for her at that dingy little motel. You couldn't even be bothered to buy her a meal afterwards. You just got up and left, like you always do."
"No I don't; and it doesn't matter what Santana thinks about having sex with me – a guy –'cause she's only into fucking other girls," Finn spat back. He advanced towards Quinn, forcing her into an alcove out of the way of the crowds. He was blocking her way out, and Quinn was worried that Brittany wouldn't be able to find her amongst all the people. She figured that if she let him get what he wanted over with, he would leave her and she could get the hell away from him.
"You're going to destroy our chances at winning Nationals, too. Do you really think Sam's going to stay on if he's not dating you? I told him he had a shot with you, Quinn, because I know you're straight, but then it turns out you're a going through some dirty little carpet munching phase."
Quinn lunged forward and pushed Finn back, catching him off guard. "Shut up!" she yelled, "Stop thinking of your image, and Sam's image! Women are people too; we're not just tools you can use to further your own lives and think that we'd be happy with it because you're on the freaking football team!"
Finn stumbled a little at the sudden force, but pulled himself together quickly and grabbed Quinn's forearms before she had a chance to retract them.
"Let me go, you Neanderthal," she spat. Finn narrowed his eyes at her and stepped forward, pushing her against the wall. Quinn didn't need to look twice at the arrogant glint in his eye to know he might try something very stupid if she didn't take action now, so she brought a knee to his crotch with all the force she could and slammed her foot down onto one of his as he released her arms and fell to the ground, groaning in pain.
"I'm not giving up on any of you!" he cried out, "You'll come around, Quinn! You all will."
Quinn ignored him and stepped aside his writhing form, and ran as fast as she could until she got to the smoothie store – she needed to find Brittany and she needed her now. She needed to know that she was safe and she hadn't gotten lost because she felt awful for letting her go off alone like that. If she had stayed, none of this would have happened. Meeting Finn was very much a coincidence, and if she'd just gone with Britt, she wouldn't be fighting back her tears and crippled with fear that something had happened because she hadn't been there.
Quinn was almost crying with relief at the sight of Brittany sitting in a booth in the milkshake store and ran in, enveloping her girlfriend in a tight embrace. She buried her head in the crook of Brittany's neck, sobbing lightly. She was immersed in the soft scent of her girlfriend's skin, her warmth and her touch and her long locks of light blonde hair.
"Quinn?" Brittany cupped Quinn's cheeks and brought watery hazel to calm seas of pale blue, "Why are you crying?"
"You're not a phase," Quinn mumbled, capturing Brittany's lips with hers, "You're mine and you're everything," she went on, between urgent kisses that were getting more and more heated as seconds flew by. "You're my everything."
"You're mine, too," Brittany replied, against Quinn's lips. She felt a shiver down her spine as their warm breaths mingled, and Quinn's tears had subsided into small laughs of relief as Brittany's arms linked together behind Quinn, pulling her closer.
"Are you okay now?"
"I'm on top of the world," Quinn whispered back. She pressed her lips to Brittany's again, though this time, her touch was softer and less intense. She didn't need heated kisses and hours in bed to know where she was supposed to be. She was already there, wrapped up with Britt in a smoothie store booth, whether the world was watching or not.
Santana pulled up outside the Berry residence at half past six, precisely; she knew firsthand about Rachel's need for punctuality (that she had managed to break several times) and didn't want to endure a rant before their double-date. Tonight was going to be perfect. Even the light shower that had begun to fall wasn't going to be a problem, because they were going to be inside the mall all evening.
It had occurred to Santana, as she cruised leisurely through Lima on her way to pick up some flowers for her lady that she and Rachel hadn't even been on an official date alone since their epic outing; Santana decided there and then that she would have to fix this soon. But, for this evening, Santana let it be – she was going to have a romantic dinner at Breadstix (as romantic as you could get at Breadstix, anyway) and her two best friends would be there equally sickeningly in love with each other.
Santana quickly took the small bouquet of roses she'd bought for Rachel at the florist's at the centre of town and walked coolly down the path. She was nervous as to what Rachel would be wearing tonight, because Santana herself had been antsy enough. After being ribbed mercilessly by her father thanks to her flustering, Santana decided on wearing a slim-cut black blazer with a pair of dark jeans and a patterned vest. If she was going to wear anything she'd picked out last minute, it would be pretty simple, but there'd be enough cleavage to distract from any comments about the lack of originality there. It was probably a result of not having to think of what to wear out that often after about two years of wearing a Cheerios uniform day in, day out. She definitely looked like she was the man in the relationship tonight; Rachel would more than likely be
She knocked on the door and waited patiently for one of the Berry men to let her in; she knew Rachel would probably be upstairs finishing off getting ready, despite expressly requesting that Santana arrive dead on the dot at six-thirty.
The door was pulled open by a smiling Hiram Berry. "Come on in." He stood back and allowed her to step over the threshold. She awkwardly walked into the kitchen and stood against the counter, listening to the sound of the football on big screen television next door in the living room.
"Would you like a drink?"
"Water would be fine, thanks," she replied. She held onto the bouquet tighter, and forced a smile at him. She wasn't the best with forcing herself to smile; she would only ever be able to achieve some catty expression or it would be extremely obvious that she didn't mean it.
She took the water from Hiram and drank all of it almost instantly. That burned twenty seconds. Excellent. Now what the hell am I going to do? All this smiling is freaking me out. A few hours ago, the dude looked like he could freeze me with his eyes, or something and that's my thing.
"Santana, I'd like to say that I'm sorry." Hiram clasped his hands together, training his eyes on the Latina. Apologising really wasn't his forte and he was just going to get it out there before he could get distracted by Rachel's exuberance. "I shouldn't have been so hostile before, but I'm sure you can understand why I might have been a little apprehensive." Santana nodded, allowing him to continue. "Obviously, all I heard from Rachel through school was that you tormented her with your friends without a shred of thought to how it might make her feel and it broke my heart that she had to go through that. I had to let her go in every day, knowing she'd come home and cry about it later." Santana swallowed harshly and blinked her tears away. She felt the guilt building up again. "If I ever got a firsthand experience of your former self, you'd have to try a hell of a lot harder to convince me that you're good enough for her. Sure, maybe I think the declaration of love at lunch earlier was a little too soon, considering that I know you haven't been interacting as friends for long, let alone being in a relationship together." Hiram fisted his hands into his pockets, at the sight of Santana looking out of the window stiffly, with a tightly clenched jaw. "But that's just my view on it all; you were right, earlier, that I can't keep you apart for your past mistakes. Rachel's forgiven you, evidently, and so should I. All I ask is that if you ever make her cry again, they had better be tears of joy."
Santana let out a little laugh along with Hiram at that last sentence, effectively dissolving the tension. It was okay. She was in the inner circle and wouldn't be abusing that honour any time soon if she could help it. "Thanks, Mr. Berry."
"Call me Hiram," he corrected her. "These look great. She'll love them."
"I hope so. I just took a wild guess at the florist's," Santana explained, rubbing the back of neck. The more she looked at the roses, the more they looked like a glaringly horrific cliché, but she and Rachel hadn't discussed suitable breeds of flowers to give to one another.
"Don't we all," Hiram joked. He admired the red roses and chuckled at Santana's spreading blush. Santana checked her watch – it was now twenty to seven and Rachel still wasn't downstairs. They'd be late if they didn't get a move on soon. Plus, Quinn and Brittany had texted her earlier to ask if they could bum a ride there and back because Quinn's mother's car was at Hummel's Tyres and Lube for a repair on something in it's ancient engine, so Judy had to borrow her daughter's car to go to some obscure luncheon with her friends from church that day.
"Elijah, please tell her she should pick something else to wear. I mean, come on," Kevin complained, after walking into the living room with a pissed Rachel in tow. "Oh, hey Santana." He hadn't planned on her being here and sighed when he saw that it was already past the time that Rachel asked Santana to show up.
Santana's eyes almost bugged out of their sockets at the sight of Rachel in that black velvet bodice paired with the tiny black skirt she'd worn to school that one time, with a pair of kitten heels. She couldn't help but smile wickedly as her eyes traversed each curve of Rachel's body – she definitely needed to ditch the argyle and wear stuff like this more often (i.e. twenty-four seven). It didn't occur to her that Leroy and Hiram were still in the room as soon as she'd laid eyes on her girlfriend.
"What's the big deal? She's going on a date," Hiram told his husband, waving off his objection. He looked to Santana, who was more than pleased with Rachel's attire, apparently.
"It's a bodice!" he exclaimed. "I mean, it's just asking for random guys to objectify you when you're out."
Rachel rolled her eyes at Leroy's protests. "What's the problem? I wore it to school once last year!"
"Oh dear Lord," Leroy sighed. "Hiram, you'd agree that's going too far, right?"
"Whoa, there," Santana interjected, before this escalated into some huge production that involved Rachel getting mad before they'd even left the house and before they would be late and end up losing their table. "If anybody makes a pass at her, believe me, I'll be the first person to send 'em packing."
"Exactly," Rachel agreed, wrapping her arms around Santana's waist. "And those roses are lovely," she added, kissing her girlfriend soundly as she felt two smooth hands slink around her waist and lock as they met at the small of her back.
"Glad you like them," she breathed against Rachel's lips. Tonight's lip gloss special was cinnamon; excellent.
"Uh, girls," Hiram chimed in, tapping his wristwatch. "It's quarter to seven. You'd better get a move on."
"Crap," Santana spat, pulling herself out of Rachel's hold and entwining their fingers to leave, "We're picking up Brittany and Quinn."
"Why didn't you tell me this earlier?" Rachel shook her head at her girlfriend's apparent lack of initiative to tell her these things.
"Bye, guys," Santana called from the hallway to Leroy and Hiram, ignoring Rachel's light chastisement.
"Bye!" Rachel shouted to her dads as Santana pulled her out the front door. "It's not me you should be apologising to when we're late," Rachel said to Santana, struggling to match her taller girlfriend's speed in her heels. Santana had worn a pair of comfortable flats – much more practical.
"We're not going to be late," Santana told her sharply, opening the door for Rachel to get in the passenger's side. "I was going to tell you when I saw you, but I got distracted by the whole bodice thing..." It was a lie, but better to flatter Rachel than admit she'd made a mistake.
"I'm not pleased that you just lied to me," Rachel said, as Santana climbed into the driver's seat and started up the engine. "But I'll forgive you because I do look great in this and the roses were a nice surprise."
Santana bit back a laugh at Rachel's self-assuredness, checking that Rachel had thankfully put on her seatbelt, "Great is a bit of an understatement," she replied, as the engine roared to life. "And I'm sorry in advance for what I'm about to do."
Rachel sat, confused at the apology, until Santana pulled away from the kerb and her car roared down the road at a speed way more than was considered legal. Judging by the look on Rachel's face, Santana was right to have at least warned her in advance.
"Slow down, Santana!" Rachel yelled, gripping onto the centre console of the car and the handle of her door. "Apologising beforehand won't work if the police catch us, you know," she warned, as Santana blatantly ignored her order to slow the hell down.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Santana replied nonchalantly, as she sharply turned the vehicle down another street in the quiet suburbs. "The police won't catch us, I promise."
Rachel scoffed at Santana's empty promise and prayed that Rafael wouldn't be too pissed if he needed to bail his daughter out of jail when he could have been watching the sports channel instead. She was grateful that since Russell and Judy's divorce, Quinn didn't live too far away from her own house and that Santana was a very able driver, or else she would have demanded to be let out of the car and would have walked the rest of the way to Dudley Road, heels or not.
Santana stopped the car abruptly when she made it to the Fabray resident and tooted the very loud horn several times.
"We'd better not lose our table," Quinn hissed in Santana's direction, as she belted up in the back seat next to Brittany. Brittany took her girlfriend's hand, calming her down.
"Hey to you too, Fabray," Santana replied. "We won't lose our table, I promise."
Quinn sat back in the plush seats as Santana kept her promise, more than used to the Latina's hasty style of driving. She bit her tongue – speeding like that would definitely keep them on time, but if there was a cop somewhere along the way that she hadn't accounted for (how could you at these speeds?) they would be more than just late. There would be parents and bail involved.
"I hope you've got your license on you," Quinn remarked, as Santana nearly ran some red lights. Rachel shrieked and Santana snickered at her irrational fear that she might actually crash.
"Do you think Rach would let me drive if I haven't?" Please. Lopezes are the best drivers. You don't pass first time if you're not excellent, right? I mean, if Puck can manage not to crash into a tree while we took a five mile an hour drive through his neighbourhood at three AM high on weed, I can get us to the mall at fifty miles an hour – fifty? Okay, maybe I should slow down... but only a little.
Quinn laughed in return, and her eyes drifted to the diva in the passenger seat - she snorted at the sight of Rachel clinging onto the centre console and her door handle and then turned her eyes back to Brittany's indifference; the taller blonde was intently watching as Lima whizzed past them at almost fifty miles an hour.
She was glad that they managed to get to the mall with five minutes to spare without Santana putting a stopper on their plans – the only problem was that because it was seven PM on a Saturday night, the car park was absolutely packed and the only spaces left were all in the far corner, almost out of the view of the entrance.
Santana ended up giving Rachel a piggy-back to the mall through the slightly heavier rain – "Santana, I am not running in heels like this!" – and Santana obliged without complaint. What the hell else was she going to do?
Beside them, Quinn made a 'whipped' sound and giggled at Santana, who would have flicked her the finger had she not been preoccupied with carrying Rachel towards the mall.
Rachel had calmed down by the time a nervous teenage boy with unfortunate acne had shown them to a booth in the heart of the buzzing restaurant. He handed each of them a menu and informed them he'd be back soon to take their orders. Santana just glowered at him for every second that he was there; maybe Leroy was right about Rachel's dress just inviting the creeps to come take a look.
"Take a photograph, it'll last longer, dumbass," Santana sniped at him as she took her seat on the outside of the booth, opposite Quinn.
He just nodded and left the four quickly, before Santana could pick one of her more choice phrases to use. She was a regular and she was very forward about staff that didn't hit her high standards.
"See? I told you we wouldn't be late," Santana informed Rachel, pecking her cheek.
"Yes, well, next time I think you shouldn't get so distracted and leave earlier," Rachel retorted.
"Yeah, San," Brittany put in, "I mean, Rachel looks totally hot and stuff, but a policeman might have stopped you." Brittany gave Rachel an approving smile.
"Why, thank you, Brittany." Rachel thanked the girl, but wondered what Quinn would be thinking of the girl's lack of filter just then.
Quinn quirked an eyebrow in Brittany's direction, but stopped as she caught a glimpse of the swell of Rachel's breasts in the corner of her eyes and retracted her reply before it had even rolled off of her tongue. Hot damn. Quinn quickly composed herself as Santana stared icily at her for keeping her eyes focused on Rachel's cleavage for a nanosecond too long.
"Keep your eyes to yourself," Santana warned.
"No problem," Quinn replied. She turned and pressed her lips to Brittany's with vigour. She cupped her cheeks and deepened the kiss, uncaring of any sour looks they might get. Quinn felt a buzz whenever she kissed Brittany in public, like she was a kid breaking some pointless rule, but the intent was still there.
Santana was about to do just the same thing to Rachel – she would, if she hadn't noticed their busboy by the table, clasping his clipboard in front of his crotch, gawping as the girls lazily kissed one another.
Santana looked him up and down with utter disgust, seeing that his sweaty face was tainted by a bright red blush and his lip was quivering, and wondered just how long he had been standing there. If it had been less than a minute – which it more than likely was – Santana reckoned he had beaten Finn Hudson at his own game. She didn't think twice about grabbing the boy by the scruff of his neck and pulled him down the length of the restaurant. He let out a strangled whimper midway along their walk, sending chills of repulsion down Santana's spine, and almost tripped over as he lost his footing for trying to keep his legs together at Santana's crazy pace.
She dragged him to the podium where the manager of the restaurant was sitting, laughing heartily into his mobile phone and online shopping on his battered notebook. Typical; last time she'd met the guy because of his inadequate staff, he was playing online poker.
"Do you train your staff properly or is it a habit of yours to hire brain-dead morons to cream themselves instead of doing their job like they're paid decently for it?" Santana bit out, unaware of the several turning heads behind her.
"Excuse me?" The man turned to her, appalled that anybody would interrupt him in the middle of a call. He recognised her from a year ago – she was the mouthy cheerleader with the wheelbarrow that had the nerve to call their corporate office and fire the girl who refused her as many breadsticks as she could carry out of the store with her.
"Answer my question, idiot," Santana snapped. She snatched the phone from the man as he stared at her. "He'll call you back," she spat into the mobile, hung up, and handed it back to him, indifferent towards his distaste. "I don't take my girlfriend and my best friends out to dinner only to watch some douchetard jizz in his freaking pants because he can't do his job."
The manager looked to the boy and cringed when he saw what Santana was referring to. He couldn't even bring himself to look at the boy's trembling lips and his purple face, which was covered in a greasy film of sweat.
"Get it now, pal? I'm leaving now, 'cause I've already missed enough of my date, but I expect you to fucking fire him," she snarled and leant down onto the podium, bringing her eyes level with his and continued in a low growl, "Because if I come back here and find out that he's still being paid to blow his load in front of paying customers, I'll make sure you'll be the one getting fired. Got it? Good." He nodded dumbly at her as she turned to leave, striding back to her table.
"Sorry," Quinn and Brittany uttered, looking sheepish, as Santana took her seat.
"Don't be," she replied to them, but kept her eyes on Rachel's and leaned in for her long overdue kiss. Santana smiled against Rachel's lips after they pulled apart when oxygen became necessary, and wrapped her arm around her girl; now their date could begin. She was glad that dealing with any unnecessary problems was best to do early, but the fact that the date was even interrupted at all irritated the Latina.
Seconds later, an older woman appeared, waiting to take the girls' orders. She was the human embodiment of cardboard, but she was employee of the month compared to Finn Hudson 2.0.
"Why couldn't she have just come round before?" Santana remarked, as the woman left to fill their orders.
"Don't get hung up on it," Rachel told her, squeezing her hand.
"Yeah," Brittany cut in, "Rach said she would call the UCLA if he came back."
"I think you mean the ACLU, sweetie," Quinn amended, smiling lovingly at her girlfriend.
Brittany just smiled and stole another kiss, as their food was served.
"Mmm, Rach, that rabbit food looks delicious," Quinn jibed, laughing lightly. She half-grimaced at the vegan casserole that Rachel had been served – unfortunately, it was the only vegan dish available tonight and Rachel made do with it. She'd had it before, but their vegan pasta dish tasted a great deal better.
"I'm sure your strips of dead pig wrapped around a dead chicken will be delightful, too," Rachel shot back in faux anger – though part of her really was disgusted. She refused to directly look at the dead animals on Quinn's plate; as if it were a scene from a horror movie she was likely to get nightmares from.
"Want some dead cow, instead?" Santana snickered, cutting off a bite of her rare steak and holding her fork up for Rachel.
"Ugh, Santana that is disgusting," she hissed, swatting the steak away. "And you'll be cleaning your teeth at least three times before you even think of putting those lips to mine."
"Oh my God," Quinn breathed out between snickering at Santana, "I can't believe you just cockblocked yourself."
Santana's face dropped as she chewed her bite of steak and even her thunderous glare didn't immediately stop Quinn and Brittany's peals of laughter ringing through the room.
It was ten o'clock by the time the girls had paid their bill and made their way out of the mall, conversing contentedly with entwined fingers and arms and casual kisses. They had stopped off at the smoothie store to grab some drinks and ended up sitting in there for around an hour and only left when the store manager told them that they had close for the night. Apparently, Santana had found that Rachel was no longer averse to Santana having eaten bloody meat for her dinner after she'd knocked back several passion fruit smoothies. The overpowering flavour of the tropical fruit was enough to mask the taste of the meat, so Rachel said - Santana secretly reckoned that Rachel just couldn't last without needing to make out with her. She liked that explanation better, anyway.
The mall had emptied out by the time their exultant voices rang through the empty gangways lined with stores that were getting ready to close for the day, leaving them to be as open as they liked with minimal dirty looks.
"Here," Santana took off her blazer and handed it to Rachel, upon noticing that the rain had gotten ten times worse since they got to the mall three hours ago. "You'll freeze out there."
"What about you? You're only wearing a vest underneath that." Rachel handed the blazer back to Santana, but she wouldn't take it.
"I guess you'll just have to find a way to warm me up later, huh?" Santana said, taking the blazer and draping it over Rachel's shoulders.
"Uh, guys, we're right here," Quinn feigned disgust as Santana and Rachel pulled out of a brief kiss.
"Like this is any worse than your little show in Breadstix earlier," Santana jibed.
Quinn smiled, her eyes glazing over with the memories of Brittany's vanilla flavoured lips, and handed her pea jacket to Brittany. Brittany took it, even if it was too short for her longer body. "Compared to you actually dragging the guy through the restaurant and having him fired? Do you know how many people were staring at you?"
"So you wanted me to leave him there to gawp at you like you were desperate porn stars in an adult theatre?" Santana hit back, as the four of them made their way towards the exit.
"Good point," Quinn conceded. She held the door open for the three others as they stepped under the canopy over the doors. Looking down the length of the car park, Quinn wondered why the hell the designers of Lima's Mall Complex hadn't built a canopy down the length of the building. This being Lima, she wasn't surprised that the facilities were overwhelmingly crappy when you needed them the most.
Outside, the rain was coming down in buckets, literally pounding against the asphalt. The car park was empty, save for a few cars – which belonged to staff – were still there. Santana couldn't even see her car at the back of the car park.
"Hey," a deep, slurring voice shouted, "Hey, you guys!"
Quinn squinted to see a figure getting dangerously close to the four girls, holding something in his hand.
"Ay dios mio," Santana grumbled. She really didn't need any more trouble from retarded guys; she'd had more than enough for one night.
The girls slowly turned to walk away, but the man picked up his pace, and then there he was – a very drunken Finn Hudson, clutching a half-empty pack of beer in his left hand, with one of the bottles half full in his right. Quinn froze, and realised that he must have gotten that from her fridge at home. It was an expensive Belgian brand from that upmarket store on Fourth; one that Finn would hardly be able to afford, whether he was under age or not.
Santana stiffened as she too realised who was bothering them. She kept her eyes trained on the man and a tight hold on Rachel's hand.
"Don't try to walk away from me, ladies," he leered, "I have a few things to say to you."
"Go away," Quinn yelled.
"Shut up," he spat, "I have a few things to say to you all." He narrowed his eyes at the girls, his jaw clenching as he saw Quinn's hand entwined with Brittany's and Rachel's with Santana's.
"You're not getting anything from us until you're sober, pal," Santana growled.
"So, Rachel, I take it Satan never told you that she fucked me last year?" Finn yelled, ignoring the Latina. His eyes were fixed on Rachel and his blood was boiling at the sight of her wearing Santana's blazer over the dress she tried to seduce him in last year. Hah. Santana was just lapping up his sloppy seconds. But Finn wouldn't be satisfied until Rachel was in his arms again. She wasn't gay; hell, she spent last year chasing after him! Nothing had changed for Finn - he was still the male lead of Glee and the quarterback, so why was she still clinging to that good-for-nothing whore?
"I did tell her," Santana spat, speaking up for Rachel. She let go of her hand and stepped forward, "I told her and we're all the better for it! At least now she's in a stable relationship with somebody who thinks she's worth the fucking truth! She's better than that, you dumb fuck, and you'll never get a fucking chance with to make it up to her because she chose me!"
"Shut up, you filthy Mexican fag," Finn roared, sneering at Santana. "Rachel was who I asked!"
Quinn turned to Rachel, before she could react. "Rachel; take Brittany and wait for us in the car," Quinn ordered. She saw Brittany's face, which was near drained of all colour; she had to get her away from that before she was scarred by Finn's apparently calamitous temper. He had to be dealt with, and while Santana would definitely be facing off with the man after he'd just insulted her like that, her girlfriend was somebody that she could protect. She leaned up and placed a quick kiss on Brittany's cheek, attempting to soothe the taller blonde's nerves. "It'll be okay, baby."
"My keys are in the right hand pocket," Santana muttered to Rachel quickly, and leaned down to give her own girlfriend a kiss.
Quinn and Santana let go of their girlfriends' hands and turned to Finn, listening as their feet patted away in the distance. They let the rain hit them, as they faced Finn. Now he'd spoken, they realised he wasn't as drunk as they originally determined, but he'd knocked four back already and had drained the remainder of the fifth during the twenty second exchange just made by the girls.
Quinn and Santana listened as Rachel and Brittany ran away through the rain, their footsteps being easily drowned out by the sound of rain hammering against glass and metal. They didn't dare take their eyes off Finn, even to see where their girlfriends were. His imposing figure took on an uneasy stance and the girls reckoned that he'd be easy enough to get rid of.
"So, I went to see your mom today," Finn began, inspecting the bottle in his hand, as if were merely commenting on the colour of it.
Quinn's heart stopped. "What?"
"I went to her house, looking for you," he elaborated, though still paying more attention to the bottle than the girls before him and was stumbling slightly, "She wasn't in, so I just trashed your place and took some booze." Finn threw his head back and tried to suck the remaining few drops of alcohol out of the bottle, but failed. He growled in frustration and turned back to Quinn and Santana. Each girl was staring at him like he'd just punched them. He felt like punching them, for ruining his life. Quinn was happy for fucking once and Santana had stolen the love of his life.
Next to Quinn, Santana was equally as enraged. She listened as the man went on and was willing Quinn just to walk away, but she couldn't do anything unless the blonde made that decision. She wasn't going to leave Quinn here. Rachel and Brittany were safe in the car, and she was glad that Finn had come alone.
"I found some pictures of Beth," he rambled on. "They're kinda cute. I didn't burn 'em, 'cause I guess having them to look at kinda just reminds you of you being so useless you and Puck couldn't even keep your kid. Guess I got a lucky break."
"You shut your mouth about my daughter!" Quinn shrieked, feeling her blood boil as her temper began to rise.
"She was a mistake, though, just like you and your stupid gay disease!" Finn bellowed, his voice dripping with repulsion and utter disgust as his eyes focused on the drenched blonde girl before him. He smashed the bottle on the wall, and edged towards the girls who were staring at him, frozen in fear.
"But I guess if I can't talk it out of you, I'll have to use other methods."