Disclaimer – I do not own Glee
Hello, so, this is a Sebastian/Santana one-shot. It doesn't really follow canon or anything and neither of their sexualities is specified here. I'll leave it to you to decide if they're straight/bi/gay but whatever you decide… It's complicated
Sebastian and Santana (It's Complicated)
You dive into the warmth of the bar in order to escape the cold snow outside. A quick look around shows there aren't many people in the pub. There's the bartender behind the counter, three young men sat by the window, and two older gentlemen playing a game of Pool on the other side of the room. It's just them, yourself, and him.
Almost as though he senses your gaze, he spins on his barstool, his lips forming into a devilish smirk as his eyes meet yours. You want to turn on your stilettos and walk straight back out into the cold and as far away from him as possible. But you don't want to give him the satisfaction. So instead you walk up to the bar and take the empty stool beside him.
"What can I get you, sweetheart?" asks the bartender.
"Vodka and coke," you answer. "Make it a double," you add as you look to the man beside you. "Oh and the meerkat here's paying," you insist.
"Santana Lopez," he speaks your name and looks you over.
"Sebastian Smythe," you respond setting your purse down and taking off your fur coat. "Hey, look at that, I know your name too," you mutter dryly and he just grins.
"That's a lovely ring on your finger," Sebastian comments and you can't help but fiddle with your wedding ring somewhat self-consciously. "How long have you two been married?"
"We're nearly at half a year," you answer as the bartender places your drink in front of you. "Hey, could I get some peanuts?" you ask and they are quickly presented to you and you slip a couple into your mouth.
"And how is married life?" Sebastian asked in an infuriatingly amused tone as he grabs a handful of peanuts and throws them back into his mouth.
"Pretty much the same," you tell him honestly. "But at least I got to wear a killer dress and show off to everybody how incredibly hot I am. Not like they didn't already know," you add as an afterthought. "I notice your fingers are bare," you point out. "Still sleeping with anything that has a pulse?"
"Funny," Sebastian commented taking a gulp from his beer bottle but not answering the question.
"I heard a little rumour that you fucked a midget," you say not bothering to keep your voice down. "Is that true?" you ask noticing how the other occupants of the pub have paused in their conversations to hear Sebastian's response.
"Not technically a midget, just short," Sebastian replied not looking anywhere near as embarrassed as you hoped. In fact, he's not bothered in the slightest. "Good fuck though."
Unsure how to respond, you down a mouthful of your drink before stuffing a handful of peanuts into your mouth, eyes watering slightly from the onslaught of salt on your tongue.
"If you're really interested," Sebastian begins. "I'm not," you interject quickly which makes his eyes dance with amusement. "Well I'll tell you anyway," he smirks and you want to seize the back of his head and smash his face straight onto the bar. "I have been dating someone for nearly four months now."
"And where is your special someone tonight?" you ask looking around the bar as though this mystery person may appear.
"Not too sure," Sebastian admits as he fingers the neck of his beer bottle. "We've had a bit of a fight."
"What did you do?" you ask crossing one leg over the other.
"Who said I did anything?" he asks and you just quirk an eyebrow at him. "Fine," he concedes. "I suppose I was being a bit of an insensitive jerk. Said some things I shouldn't have. I've probably ruined it," he laughs and you roll your eyes.
The snow isn't letting up outside. You certainly don't fancy walking along the streets in thick snow in your favourite stiletto heels. So you stay at the bar with Sebastian. You order more drinks. More drinks that you inform the bartender Sebastian will pay for to which he doesn't object. At some point, you move from the bar and sit opposite one another in a booth with a selection of different shots in front of you.
"How about a little game of 'Never have I ever'?" Sebastian suggests.
"Remind me how that one goes again," you prompt and he explains the rules to you.
"It's simple," he declares with that irritating attitude that seems to radiate off of all former private school boys. "I say a statement for something I've never done. If you have done that something you drink a shot. If you state something you've never done and I've done it then I take a shot."
"Fine, I'll start," you sit up straighter and think it over for a few moments. "Never have I ever fucked a midget."
"As I said before, not a midget, just short," Sebastian claims not taking a drink. "Now, my turn," he taps his fingers on the table as he thinks. "Never have I ever gotten a boob-job."
"Dick," you mutter under your breath before knocking back an apple sour shot. "Ok, never have I ever taken steroids."
"Bitch," Sebastian mumbled opting for the shot of whiskey. "Never have I ever been fingered in the middle of the street," he deliberately spoke at a louder volume as he gave you a knowing smirk.
"Whatever," you grumble choosing the vodka shot. "How did you even know about that?"
"Somebody told me," Sebastian replied. "But I didn't actually know it was true until just now."
"Yeah, well, never have I ever watched 'Two girls, one cup'," you claim and watch as he downs a shot. "You're disgusting for watching that. I bet you got off on it too."
"Can't believe you haven't watched it," Sebastian says tousling his hair. "Never have I ever been spanked for sexual pleasure. Always knew you were a kinky bitch, Lopez," he smirks approvingly as you take a shot.
The game continues on and soon you run out of shots. You make yourself more comfortable on the cushioned bench of the booth as Sebastian goes to the bar and orders more drinks. Digging your hand into your purse, you slip out your phone and check for any texts or miscalls from the one who put the wedding ring on your finger six months ago. There aren't any and you're not surprised but you are disappointed.
"Start drinking, sweetheart," Sebastian encourages setting a cocktail pitcher in front of you.
"What the hell," you shrug wrapping your lips around the straw and drinking deeply.
You lose track of time. You just keep drinking with Sebastian. At some point, you've ended up holding hands across the tabletop. He's running his thumb along your inner wrist and you're twirling the fingers of your other hand around your long dark hair.
"What?" you ask with a laugh as smiles at you while gazing into your eyes.
"Nothing," he replies as he links his fingers with yours. "This feels nice," he comments.
"It does," you agree without meaning to, biting your lip even though it's too late to prevent the words slipping out.
"Are you happy with…?" Sebastian doesn't finish the question, just runs a finger over the wedding band on your finger.
"Oh, Seb, don't," you pull your hand away and hug your arms to your chest.
"Sorry," Sebastian says a touch grumpily. "I was just asking. I want to make sure you're ok. I do care about you, you know."
"Yes, like a sister," you respond bitterly and an unreadable expression passes the man's eyes.
"That was years ago when I said you were like a sister to me," Sebastian tells you. "Like, five… six years?"
"Seven actually," you correct. "And I really don't need reminding," you add pointedly.
It doesn't matter how many years ago it was. It doesn't matter that you barely even see Sebastian anymore. It doesn't matter that he didn't come to your wedding (or that you didn't actually invite him to the wedding in the first place). It doesn't matter that you met someone, fell in love, moved in together and got married. It doesn't matter that Sebastian is here tonight because he's had a fight with whoever he's been in a relationship with for the past four months. And it doesn't matter because you still remember that drunken night seven years ago when you told Sebastian how desperate you were for his cock and he told you that you were like a sister to him, all with that infuriating smug smirk on his stupid lips. And it still stings. After all this time, it still wounds your pride and drives you mad and you still recall how for a second, a second, you genuinely believed Sebastian Smythe was going to fuck you. Nobody has ever rejected or resisted you, Santana Lopez, nobody except for the man sitting opposite you now.
"Come on, Santana," Sebastian says reaching his hand out for you to take but you refuse. "That was years ago," he continues. "And you know what I was like back then. I just fucked people. There were a few relationships here and there but none of them lasted long. I was young; all I wanted to do was fuck. I wasn't interested in any of the feelings and love crap. I couldn't treat you that way, Santana. Not you. You were my friend."
"I wasn't looking for love and feelings either," you point out. "I was just hoping for a fuck. That's all I wanted. Just a fuck," you tell him but you know it's a lie and he knows it too.
Sure, you wanted to fuck. But you didn't want to be just another fuck to Sebastian. You wanted to be the greatest fuck of his life. You weren't in love with him, not really, you were too young to be in love. But it was more than just a crush. You wanted to fuck and you wanted to sing and dance under the stars and hold hands and cuddle up to watch T.V together and just be Sebastian and Santana. But it never was Sebastian and Santana. It was always Sebastian and somebody else while you were always alone or briefly with somebody else wishing that someone else was Sebastian. But it never was Sebastian. Nobody could ever compare to Sebastian. And when you wore that dress and walked down that aisle it wasn't Sebastian standing at the other end waiting for you and Sebastian never did come bursting in to object as you occasionally fantasised.
"I remember this song," Sebastian sighs. "I haven't heard it in years."
You know the song. You know it well, 'Chasing Cars' by Snow Patrol. You listen to it a lot. And each time you listen to it you remember that moment. It was maybe ten minutes after Sebastian rejected you with his ridiculous 'you're like a sister to me' speech. He lay down on the field with your head resting on his chest as the song blared from his phone, some of your friends milling about laughing and drinking but you weren't paying attention to them. For those few minutes, nothing else existed in the world. It was just you and Sebastian Smythe singing along to the song as you looked up at the stars.
"Come on, dance with me," Sebastian stands and holds his hand out to you.
You've never actually danced together before and you know it isn't a good idea to start now. You know Sebastian Smythe is dangerous and you know you're a married woman and this isn't acceptable behaviour. But you take his hand anyway.
You gently sway together, closing your eyes and singing along to the words, your chin resting on his shoulder. A few tears slip from your eyes and you feel your lower lip start to tremble. You bite down on it and hold your breath. You wipe your eyes, noticing the three young guys by the window leaning close together and whispering something about you and Sebastian. Ignoring them, you breathe again and pull back from Sebastian with a fake smile on your face.
With the song over, you sit back down. Only now you're sitting on the same side as Sebastian. Your hand is resting on his upper thigh and he's alternating between playing with your hair and running his fingers along your neck (a major turn on for you).
"Oh Santana," Sebastian sighs with a smile on his lips and you hate how achingly beautiful he still is. "Santana, Santana, Santana," he practically sings. "What is wrong with us?"
"There is nothing wrong with me," you declare. "As for yourself, well, everything is wrong with you."
"That's probably true," Sebastian accepts before calling to the bartender to bring more drinks. Then Sebastian informs you that you're going to lick salt from his neck, take the tequila shot and take the lemon slice from between his teeth.
"This is inappropriate and you know it," you claim waving your wedding ring finger in his face.
"I do know," he smirks. "But we're gonna do this anyway. Ladies first," he challenges.
You glare at him before releasing a small giggle of laughter and you're sure you're blushing like a thirteen year old.
"Ok, ok," you agree and you lean in to sensually lick the salt from his neck. You quickly take the shot and then pluck the lemon wedge from Sebastian's mouth and bite into it. He frowns at you slightly but you just smile back as you toss the used lemon into the empty shot glass. Sitting in such close proximity to Sebastian and licking salt from his neck is bad enough. You're not adding to everything by taking the lemon from his mouth with your own. "You need to stop looking at me like that."
"Why?" Sebastian asks.
"Because I'm married," you remind him. "And I'm like a sister to you. Your words, not mine," you smirk.
"Fuck," Sebastian groans and he chuckles to himself in amusement before pulling you onto his lap and taking one of your hands to lock your fingers together. "I really fucked up with you didn't I?"
"Don't… you can't… just stop talking ok," you plead avoiding eye-contact with him.
"It was supposed to be you and me," Sebastian insisted as he toys with the ring on your finger. "It was always supposed to be you and me. We were endgame. Maybe we still are."
"Maybe," you shrug feeling your eyes well and your throat catch. "But time will only tell on that one," you say breaking away from him and standing up. "But right now, it's not you and me. It can't be you and me."
"Oh why the fuck not?" Sebastian complains. "Just, let's just have tonight. We can be you and me for just one night. Nobody has to know."
"Yeah, ok, seven years ago I'd be dropping to my knees for you if you said that to me," you laugh hollowly. "Maybe if you said it to me a few days before my wedding I'd have taken you up on the offer. Even now I can't deny the temptation is there. You're Sebastian Smythe for fuck sake. That might not mean anything to other people but it sure as hell means a lot to me. But this isn't happening, Seb. My marriage might not be perfect but I'm trying to make it work. If it fails, it fails. But it won't fail because I didn't try to make it work or because I cheated with the guy who gave me that lame ass sister speech one time."
"Fuck," Sebastian swore. "So, what happens now?"
"Now, I'm going to put on my coat," you wrap yourself back in the warm fur of your coat, carefully buttoning it up. "Grab my bag," you lean over to do so. "And I'm going to head back out and walk home in the snow in my favourite stilettos. I'm going back home to the person I married, Sebastian. And you need to sober up, buy some flowers or whatever and apologise to whoever you're dating for whatever it is you did."
"That's it?" Sebastian asked.
"That's it," you say securing your purse on your shoulder.
"When do I see you again?" Sebastian asks standing up and setting his hands at your waist.
"I don't know," you answer honestly. "Maybe never," you know he doesn't like the thought of that and you don't either, but it is a possibility albeit a painful one. "Goodbye Sebastian," you press a kiss to his cheek, lingering a touch too long before turning to leave the bar.
As you step through the doors and back out into the cold snow you overhear one of the three young guys calling out to Sebastian, "Wow, you missed out with that one, mate."
"Yeah," you hear Sebastian's reply as you hover by the door. "I'll never love anyone like I love her."
You force yourself to walk away, not daring to look back at the pub. If you looked back, you might just take the ring off your finger, throw it aside and run back to the bar and melt into Sebastian's arms. He loves you. The stupid loser boy who became a stupid loser man fucking loves you.
As you carry on walking away, you laugh, almost manically. Of course Sebastian Smythe loves you. He's always fucking loved you and you fucking love the asshole right back. But he never told you. You never had that pivotal romantic comedy or chick-flick moment and you got tired of waiting for it and you gave up. So you moved on. You got married. It's so simple but at the same time it's so fucking complicated.
More one-shots to come…
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Love and hugs, IceQueenRia xox
