A/N: I'm very sorry for the delay, some trouble with technology and other stuff you don't care about. Thank you very much for sticking with the story and I hope you still like it. A special thank you to my awesome Beta who has enough patience to put u with me, which is an admirable quality (and one I'm very thankful for).


Chapter 7: Trapped

You've been looking forward and dreading this moment since you left the poetry thing. Do you hug, invite her inside? You really want to kiss her and since she asked you out, you guess she wants to kiss you as well, but how? Do you ask or just lean in; maybe you should let her decide? You really hate feeling so lost, especially because it's with Santana.
It's just that you've never met someone you instantly liked this much only to keep it in for such a long time. This is much more complicated than you're used to, all these feelings.

You keep fiddling with your keys (in your pocket; you've been self-conscious about that since watching Hitch) and clear your throat before lifting your gaze from the floor. You're glad to see that Santana doesn't seem to be faring much better.
Just as you're about to reach out to her, your heart drops. You halt for a second, hand still in mid-air before you realise that your nightmares are coming true and in an even worse way than you had imagined. After two years of sharing an appartment, you're as familiar with all Broadway and Barbra Streisand classics as you are with the morning routine. Why the hell is Rachel making her way up the stairs when she should be with her boyfriend across town?

Santana is just as surprised (and appalled) as you are and before you can think about it, you've opened the door, shoved her inside and guided her to your bedroom; the only place you know you'll be safe. This is not the way you wanted you wanted them to meet.
You wanted to be dating Santana for a bit longer than a few hours (Are you dating? Or was this just a date and tomorrow it might already be over?), preferably call her your girlfriend, mention that casually to your annoying roommate, and wait for the storm to pass. Then you'd prepare Santana thoroughly; warn her to bring earplugs and not mention anything relating to Broadway, Streisand, or singing/theatre in general when she came over. Until that time, you'd avoid your home like the plague while in her company.
If you'd not been such a sissy and asked Santana on a date instead of waiting, you'd be walking her home and none of this would have happened. As it is, you're in your bedroom with Santana and hiding from Rachel. How was this a good idea?

You turn back to Santana, motion to keep quiet and stumble to your bedside table to turn on a light; you still have to change the bulb in the lamp hanging from the ceiling. When you can see further than two feet, you see the confusion in her eyes and whisper an apology. You gesture towards the bed and tell her you'll be right back. Santana still seems a bit tense and you can't really blame her; this is rather strange after all. You try to explain to her that you didn't think Rachel would be home tonight and you just want to make sure she's in her own room. From her reaction to the few stories you've told her about your intrusive roommate, you'd gathered that she wasn't very excited to meet her either, but you're relieved nevertheless when she nods in understanding. You give her the remote control to your TV and tell her you'll be right back.

When you walk into the living room, you can hear Rachel rummaging in the kitchen. She's probably making her herbal tea with honey, yuck. It still surprises you that for someone who's so concerned about the well-being of her vocal cords, she's still such a loud person. Wouldn't it make more sense to talk less, or at least at a lower volume?
She jumps a bit when you greet her and when you ask her why she's not with what's-his-face tonight, she just blinks. Then she puts her tea down and is gone before you know it, shouting back a thank , that was easy. You wonder if you should quickly tidy-up the living room, when Santana walks back in. You can't believe how happy it makes you to see her like this, looking around your appartment and a bit sleepy. You really want her to walk around like this a lot more, maybe even wearing your pyjamas. Your smile is wide when you ask if she'd like a drink. She tells you she shouldn't, but takes a seat anyway and tucks her feet under her legs. She must be cold again, so you decide to make some tea.

When you put a cup in front of her and wrap both hands around your own, you apologise again. You feel awful for freaking out like that but you just panicked okay?She tells you it doesn't matter and sips her tea. Coming from any other person you'd think she didn't mean it, but you know she does. Following her example, you slip out of you heels and nestle further into the settle into an easy conversation and two pots of tea and nearly three hours later, you decide to call it a night. Santana's been trying to fight off sleep for an hour, but now she's ready to pass out. You quietly ask her if she'd like to stay over and think that her mutterings are probably a confirmation. You show her the bathroom, and give her a spare toothbrush before going into your room and looking for something she can use as pyjamas. You're about to walk back into the hallway where you keep the extra blankets and pillows, when she runs into you. You laugh a bit, mostly because she tries to, but doesn't really succeed because she's too tired. The best she can manage is a soft chuckle, followed by a long yawn. You tell her you've put some clothes for her on the bed and you're going to brush your teeth and will see her tomorrow. She sends you a confused look and you gesture to the living room, telling her you'll sleep on the sofa. She seems disappointed, but you're still very aware of your sleep-induced confessions and tendency to move around a lot as well. Not really a situation you want to find yourself in with Santana in the same bed.

You tell her goodnight and go into the bathroom. You avoid looking into the mirror because you know you probably look exhausted and you're disappointed you still don't have the guts to really talk to Santana. You didn't even kiss her or thank her for the date, which is rather rude now that you think about it. You sigh, rinse your mouth and decide you should make sure she's comfortable and you can thank her at the same time.

You feel weird knocking on your own door and try to come up with something to say before walking in. Santana's still standing near the bed, wearing your dance clothes from high school. You thought they might fit her better, but they're slightly too big. She looks a bit confused why you're back again, but when you tell her why you came back, she blushes and looks at the floor. You can't really hear her response, so you walk closer and ask her if she'd repeat it. She looks you right in the eyes when she tells you she really enjoyed tonight as well. It looks like she wants to say something else, but no more words come out. You make the mistake of looking into her eyes then and, before you've even processed the relative insanity of it, you're kissing her.

You feel a bit like you did when you first saw her; breathless, curious, but also very happy. You're kissing Santana after you had a date with her and she's kissing you back. It's sensory overload and not exactly what you had in mind with a goodnight-kiss, but you don't care.
You don't care because when you thought of kissing her like this, you couldn't get it right. You thought you'd be more prepared because you've been close to her before, seen her and can recognise her scent across a crowded café, but this is just…
When Santana pulls back for air, interrupting your moment of paradise and thoughts, you realise your vision is marred by black spots and your lungs are painfully trying to restore the current lack of oxygen. Her chest is heaving, cheeks flushed and her lips are puffy, but you still think she's the most beautiful she's ever looked. You don't deny her when she asks you to sleep here, with her. You don't have to think about it; even though your entire body is still tingling, you know you're both too tired to do anything but sleep tonight and you want to be close to her. She smiles wide when you agree and asks which side you prefer. (You never really understood why people choose sides, especially when they're not used to sharing a bed. You just get in bed, curl up until you're comfortable and, more often than not, awake at the other side of the bed (or the foot of the bed from time to time).) You shrug and tell her whichever side is all right with you. When you get in bed, you keep telling yourself not to talk in your sleep and stay well away from Santana during the night to prevent further embarrassment. Apparently Santana has different ideas, because just as you're about to drift off, you feel her moving closer until she's pressed into your side. You quietly ask her if she's still awake, but your only response is some deep breathing. Maybe you'll stay awake tonight.


A/N: sorry to bother you again, but please let me know what you think? And if you have the time, maybe give my other stories a chance? Sorry for this shameless display of self-promotion, but I'd like to know what you think of it.