Thanks for all the reviews; they really keep me going :)
From now on, I'll try to post longer chapters! Yay! Party hard!
And following advice from one reviewer (thank you ;)), I added the warnings to the summary. Enjoy and review!
The next day, Santana was nervously fiddling with her phone, anxiously waiting by her locker. A Cheerio and Brittany were chatting animatedly about cats – like, what the fucking fuck, stranger – , and therefore, none of them noticed the barely covered way in which Santana was tapping her foot, or moving her gaze nervously from her locker to the school main doors and back.
After almost five minutes of doing nothing but look like a creep, Santana thought that she'd be able to run to Rachel and engulf her in a gigantic hug if the girl magically appeared by the doors.
Not even the approaching figure of one Quinn Fabray managed to get her out of her midget-centered thoughts. Until Quinn stopped in front of her, that's it.
"The Cheerio's locker room. Now." Quinn snapped, receiving a weird look from Santana.
"What?" shrieked the Latina. "So, you act all bitchy with me and now I have to follow you? Keep dreaming, blondie." Answered Santana, finally paying attention to her locker, her task of looking for Rachel momentarily thrown aside.
Chuckling lightly and dismissing with her hand the two Cheerios who were escorting her, Quinn's face morphed into a deathly serious one.
"I think that you don't understand what I'm trying to imply." At this, Santana looked at her for a moment, raising her eyebrow in challenge, turning her head to her locker almost immediately.
Quinn's smirk just got wider, the mischievous glint Santana had seen on their last encounter present once again in the blonde's eyes.
"Tell me, Santana," spoke up the beautiful blonde, her chin jutting more with each word she uttered, "Do you want me to help you come out of the closet?" Was the question that made Santana's head whip towards Quinn's, her eyes wide and fearful; a very different version of the Santana she proclaimed to be on a daily basis.
Don't get her wrong, Santana wasn't afraid of coming out. Not in school, at least. The sheep could kiss her ass whenever they wanted, but wasn't about them who Quinn was talking about, and Santana knew it.
When they were fifteen, in one of their weekly sleepovers, Santana had confessed to her friends the kind of experiments she had been doing with some girls on the squad, and the conclusion she had tripped into.
Obviously, Quinn and Brittany had been totally supportive of her condition, and vowed to keep it a secret for Santana's sake.
Well, some students had noticed the Cheerio fooling around with other cheerleaders, and looking hot as hell, no one had dared to confront her.
But her family was a completely different matter. Her uncle José had come out of the closet eleven years ago; claiming that he hadn't chosen his condition, that he hadn't asked to be who he was, but that he wouldn't try and change it.
Her abuela had disowned her own son.
Santana's mom had never talked to him ever again.
In that moment, little innocent Santana didn't understand the reason why her favorite uncle couldn't visit her anymore, or carry her to those movie nights she liked so much, or simply sit with her and listen to a funny radio channel while eating candy.
But once she did and her teenage feelings started flowering, fear took over her. But there were Quinn and Brittany, making it better, keeping her secret as their own.
So now, walking behind a high headed Quinn Fabray, following her into the Cheerio's locker room, Santana couldn't help but feel a tiny part of her heart breaking
The door hadn't even closed completely, when an affronted Santana Lopez shouted at her childhood friend "What the fuck do you want, Fabray?"
Biting the corner of her mouth, Quinn quirked up her lips.
"Oh! In second name terms now, Lopez?" teased the slightly taller girl.
Raising a single finger and pointing it at her teammate, Santana half closed her eyes.
"Don't you dare fuck with me, Lucy Quinn Fabray."
Once again, Quinn's teasing face had transformed into a stony one.
"You're not in position to demand anything, Santana. I thought that you would want to make this the easy way, but now I see that-" "What. Do. You. Want." Growled Santana, her eyes closing as the girl pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to retain the headache that was, most certainly, coming.
Closing the gap that their shouting had created, Quinn stayed foot to foot with Santana, her chest puffed out in some weird display of domination between either monkeys or teenagers.
"I want your spot on the Cheerios." Those seven words could resume the whole point of their rather stupid rivalry. Santana just stood there, mouth hanging wide open, eyes incredulously staring at Quinn.
"You know, being co-captain, I have to go either beating people up like you do or date Finn to maintain me on top. But if I have to keep watching my only pass to complete domination of the school drool over stupid hobbits" at this, Santana clenched her fists and gritted her teeth, Quinn not noticing since she had lowered her eyes to her perfect manicured nails, "I think I'm gonna cut a bitch, like you so eloquently would have put it."
Santana stood straight, her nostrils expanding and contracting with every rage-filled breath she took. She knew Quinn's modus operandi. She had been present last Friday, when her Cheerios cornered Rachel in the parking lot.
Hell, that had been her own modus operandi for the greatest part of High School.
However, the Cheerio couldn't help but feel but feel relieved when Quinn gave no signals of introducing Rachel in the conversation, for a moment having been afraid that Quinn had discovered about their encounter the day before, or worse; that Quinn had decided to act on her hate for Rachel.
"So what, if I don't hand you my only opportunity at a scholarship, you're gonna destroy my relation with my family?" asked the tan girl, her own ears not accepting the truth behind the words.
And even though it was not reflected in her demeanor, Santana knew that the words had made their trick; as Quinn moved her gaze to the right, avoiding eye contact. Finally looking back at Santana, Quinn squared her shoulders, and for a moment, Santana saw her childhood friend peeking out from those hazel eyes.
"Your GPA average is 3.8, you'll get a full scholarship anyway."
Letting out a snort, Santana looked up at the ceiling as she shook her head, her lips twitching up, making clear that she couldn't believe what she was hearing.
"Santana, stop that crap. This isn't how blackmail works, you're not in position to negotiate, and you won't. You know that your mother is one phone call away from me." Threatened the blonde, finally fed up with all the resistance Santana was opposing.
Santana raised her eyes in resignation, her glare taking a hard edge that her former friend had never had directed her way. She was seriously having trouble believing that the person who had promised to be there for her forever and to keep her deepest secrets was selling her out over a stupid spot at the Cheerios. God, life couldn't get any fucking worse.
"Okay Quinnie. You get what you want." The Latina got closer to the Christian girl, her noses almost touching. "But if you think that this is it, Luce, you're so. Very. Wrong. That it's not even funny" finished Santana, punctuating each word with a jab on her chest with her index finger.
The shorter girl turned around and whipped open the door, but just before she left the room, she looked back, her hateful expression and her betrayed glaze breaking something in Quinn's heart that she didn't even know could still break.
The tall blonde was pushed out of her thoughts by the resonating slamming of the door, leaving her alone in the Cheerio's locker room.
Shaking her head to clear her mind from those stupid feelings thoughts, Quinn angled her shoulders, lifted her chin, dusted off her pristine Cheerio's skirt and cracked a smirk while she opened the door, coming face to face once again to the population of William McKinley.
It was lunch period, and Santana was so deep in thought about her conversation with Quinn that didn't realize that Brittany had been talking to her about Lord Tubbington for what looked like five full minutes.
Sitting in the furthest chair possible from Quinn while still sitting at the same table, Santana glared unamusedly at her protein shake, its pink color making her stomach churn.
When she looked to her right, she found Brittany clapping her hands excitedly and bouncing on her seat, making her crack a little smile.
"What's up, Britts?" asked the Hispanic girl quite absent mindedly.
"I just remembered! Mr. Schuester, that hot guy that is always talking in my Spanish classes, said that I could pass the class if I joined glee club!"
What?
"What? Is that even legal?"
"Of course it is, S! People singing can't kill other people, even if they're not singing too, silly head" replied the ditzy blonde as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Smiling, Santana shook her head at her friend, grimacing inside at the prospect of what could happen once she was forced to join glee along with Brittany.
Glee club? Wasn't that like… Loserland? Homo-explosion? No. That dumbass Mr. Schuester wasn't going to drag her reputation even lower now that she wasn't Head Cheerio anymore. That wasn't right, and Santana was pretty sure that that wasn't his job, either.
Fucking great. Now, she was probably going to have to join glee, and she wasn't even at the top of the pyramid anymore. Fan-fucking-tastic.
"Besides…" trailed off Brittany, shoving her finger into her protein shake and moving it in circular motions. Santana, used to her best friend's behavior, nudged her shoulder with her own, encouraging her to tell her whatever it was that she wanted to tell her friend.
"Ms. Pillsbury told me that to graduate, I had to pass Spanish too" finished the blonde in a murmur, lifting her stained finger and shoving it into her mouth, removing every trace of protein shake of it.
Fuck. That was a valid point. A very valid point.
Sighing loudly and closing her eyes, Santana slowly nodded to the unasked question, making Brittany squeal excitedly, the taller girl lunging towards her and engulfing her in a rib-breaking hug.
"Thakyouthankyouthankyou! I gotta tell Lord Tubbington like, right now!" Exclaimed Brittany, shooting off her chair and pulling her phone out of her backpack.
Santana just sighed, moving her head to the left and finding a smirking Quinn Fabray looking at her with her perfect eyebrow raised.
Fuck. My. Life.
Santana was once again in the Cheerio's locker room; her obligations as freaking shit-Cheerio-cleaner not having changed one bit, even when she herself had gone to Coach Sylvester and told her about her desire to change positions in the pyramid. Obviously, Coach had been incredibly pissed off, making her run ten laps more than any of the other Cheerios, Quinn trying to push her to the ground every time they got close enough.
The tan girl couldn't help but look longingly to the door, recalling the encounter that she and Rachel had held the day before.
Their kisses… God, their kisses. Rachel was obviously inexperienced, but in Santana's mind, that had made the actions much more beautiful and endearing.
Rachel…Oh, Rach. I wish you told me what's happening to you.
Santana was starting to fear that the stupid crush she had developed weeks ago when she heard Rachel sing had started morphing into something else. Something more.
Because that unbearable desire to follow the girl home one day and face her demons for her; that craving to hold her against her chest and let her stay there, forever, that couldn't be just a high school crush.
The girl didn't want to admit it, but she was scared. Rachel hadn't come to class during the whole week, and even though she had seen her the day before, the worry wouldn't fade away.
But, whatever. Santana Lopez wasn't scared of anything, she just was overprotective, okay?
The teenager was inspecting the last locker – and by inspecting, meaning trying to remember whose bitch was that locker so that she could shove her gum in there - deep in thought, when she heard someone lightly knocking on the door.
Head wiping towards the doors, the Latina didn't even waste a second before she was running towards the doors, almost collapsing against them in her hurry, the only thought present in her head:
Please, let it be Rachel.
Stepping back to open the right door, Santana was met with the sight of one Rachel Berry, her hands gripping the edge of her skirt, bottom lip between her teeth, almost shy of being seen.
And before she knew what she was doing, Santana had her arms around the tiny figure, squeezing the life out of her. Her left hand flew to the back of Rachel's neck, tangling in her hair, her eyes closing tightly as she inhaled the essence that was only Rachel.
"We have to stop meeting like this" joked the Cheerio, smiling when she felt Rachel's arms tightening around her waist followed by a soft chuckle.
After a few minutes of just holding, Santana pulled back, tilting her head down and softly kissing Rachel's forehead.
"You worried me" murmured Santana against the warm skin. She felt Rachel nodding, her eyelashes ghosting against the skin of Santana's chin.
"I'm sorry" was the mumbled answer.
The taller girl didn't answer, just sighed deeply and kissed the younger girl's temple.
"How long are you staying today?" asked Santana, not bearing the thought of Rachel ever leaving her side, even though she knew that was just what would happen.
"I don't know. I guess… Twenty more minutes." Answered the Jewish girl, making Santana frown and close her eyes.
"Are you sure? Can't you stay a little longer?"
"Santana…" sighed Rachel in a warning tone.
"I know. I know, but just…" taking a deep breath, Santana asked for the obvious. "You have problems at home, don't you?" Silence.
Santana felt Rachel stiffening in her arms, trying to pull away, but Santana just tightened her hold.
"How long did you think it would take for me to figure it out?"
Once again, silence.
Rachel was gripping her shoulders, hard. But she didn't give a damn.
"C'mon, Rach."
"I thought you'd understand." Came the teary answer, her voice catching in her throat. At this, Santana's eyes widened, suddenly alert.
"What?" squealed the Cheerio, moving away from Rachel just to be able to cup her face with both of her hands, forcing her to make eye contact.
"Rachel, I… how can you even think that I don't support you? No, sweetie, c'mon, look at me." At this point, Santana's voice had started to tremble, her eyes itching and blurring dangerously, still clear enough to make out the purple mark she had spotted the day before on the girl's cheek. When their eyes connected once again, Santana inched forward, taking Rachel's lips in for a quick kiss. "Listen to me. If you wanted, I'd be there for you every fucking moment I could. And if you didn't, well, I's still be fucking there." The girl laughed nervously, and licked her surprisingly dry lips.
"There's nothing you could possibly do, or say to keep that from happening." Rachel already had tears streaming down her face, the passion pouring from the girl in front of her hitting her heart like a freight train.
"Do you understand?" asked the tanner girl, and not receiving an answer. "Do you understand?" repeated the girl, this time shaking the other girl's head lightly, her voice straining.
Rachel just jerkily nodded her head, sniffling soundly and lunching herself towards Santana, both of them trembling slightly against each other.
Five minutes later, a "Do you realize that almost all of our encounters involve crying?" uttered by Rachel made them separate from each other enough to look at each other, and the two girls started laughing loudly, relief washing over them.
A few minutes later, both of them were properly recovered from their, – once again –, crying session; Rachel about to head home, as well as Santana.
Looking at the floor thoughtfully as she swung their joined hands while they walked to the parking lot, Santana spoke up.
"Would you like to join Glee club?"
Head wiping towards Santana, the girl looked at her as if she had just implied that Rachel had sex with Jacob Ben Israel.
"I don't think that is a good idea." Was the answer she finally settled for.
"What? You're not going to come to school ever again or what? Teachers will start asking questions, and you're like one hell of a singer."
Rachel seemed to be deep in thought, her hand tightening around Santana's.
"I'll" closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Rachel smiled up at Santana. "I'll think about it."
"Look, if it's gonna cause you anymore trouble, you can just-"
"No, no. I think it'll be okay. I just have to… to think about it. And then, I'll be able to give you an accurate answer."
Smiling down at Rachel, Santana stopped her and leaned down, joining their lips in a sweet kiss. "You're the best singer I've ever heard. People will kill to sing a freaking song with you." Assured Santana against the tiny brunette's lips, her smile giving away the seriousness of the statement.
"Let's hope not" was the playful answer.
When they arrived to Santana's car, the tall girl looked hopefully at Rachel.
"Can I carry you home?" At the lack of answer, Santana sticked out her bottom lip – in a totally non badass way –, and made her very best puppy eyes, murmuring "Please" as she rocked from side to side.
Finally breaking into a broad smile, Rachel slapped Santana's arm playfully, making her smile too.
"I guess it won't hurt…" she hadn't even had time to end the sentence when a pair of wet, soft lips engulfed hers in a passionate kiss; definitely less innocent than any of the others that they had shared until that moment. Santana was suddenly glad that she had sticked her gum to Quinn's locker door.
Breaking it, Santana palmed the hood of her Mustang, making a sign with her head for Rachel to get in.
"C'mon, Berry, get your cute little ass into Auntie Tana's love machine" joked the girl, making Rachel giggle madly like the fifteen year old that she was. That was probably the single less mature thing that Santana had found Rachel doing.
Smiling, the Latina decided that, from that moment on, she would try to relive the little innocent teenager inside of Rachel as much as she could.
"Okay. The Love cruise is on, lady!"
