Author's Note: There, that wasn't so bad. This chapter features special guest Brittany who I really do enjoy when she's not written as a child. So, enjoy.
8. run with me through rows of speeding cars
Santana bobs her head in the HBIC way she never quite gave up and purses her lips. He's going to have to elaborate. She doesn't know how much he knows. She only knows how much he doesn't know because she'd never told him in the first place. If it all came flooding back like her Papisaid it might, Puck's going to be pissed. He's been pissed ever since she ended it Senior year. Whenever they're both back in town for holidays or birthdays, it's awkward and charged and sometimes she just wants to pin him up against the wall and fuck him right-
…but she never does. She ended it years ago and she can't let herself fall back into his arms so easily. She'd feel too guilty. Besides, it would probably end the same way it always does. He'd try and push his luck and screw her over by screwing someone else. Santana's not prepared to deal with that pain again. He'd done it with Quinn once and Rachel once. The only thing that could possibly hurt worse would be if he cheated on her with Brittany.
She'd want to kill them both if that ever happened. Santana never was one for sharing.
She's trying to ignore the fact that the last time, he hadn't screwed up at all. He'd just screwed her and it was good.
"Well?" Puck breaks the heavy silence that has settled over the room. Sarah's already slipped out behind Santana to avoid the confrontation. Even Finn is staring at them now, his half-eaten toast sitting on his plate in front of him. "What happened between us?"
Santana meets his steady gaze with a glare of her own, tossing her hair angrily. Puck's lips twitch faintly with a memory of her doing that while wearing a cherry red cheerleading uniform. "Let's start with this. What do you remember?"
"Everything," he says, and Finn whoops with excitement. Both Puck and Santana turn to look at him and he falls quiet, sinking down into his seat and leaning across the table to finish Sarah's abandoned chocolate-chip waffles.
"Care to elaborate?"
Puck rolls his eyes. "Everything. You letting me get to second base at my Bar Mitzvah and you in that fucking poofy princess dress. Losing our virginity in the Fabrays' basement a couple months later." With each moment he sites, he takes a step closer until he has Santana backed against the kitchen counter. She tries to slide away but he puts a hand on either side of her, fencing her in. She's pissed. She hates being trapped. "Taking you to Homecoming freshman year. Spending the summer at the Johnsons' pool." His voice drops and he glances off to the side. "Cheating on your with Q. Having a kid that I never see. Rachel. Everything."
By now, he's leaning down and his lips are just inches from hers. Santana can't help the burning urge to slap him in the face for invading her personal space or the equally strong one to just kiss him again. She does neither, just pushes against his chest and tries to escape. Finn clears his throat behind them. "Uh, guys? Shouldn't we be, like, celebrating or something?" They're quiet, trading glares and frowns. Finn puts his fork down and turns to leave. "I'll just, uh, leave you guys alone, then."
"Nah," Puck finally says, stepping away from Santana enough so that she can dart towards the door. His gaze is heavy on her, though, so she doesn't bolt. He's got her frozen in place again. "San and I are gonna take a walk. You can stick around. I'll probably need someone to drink with later." He reaches out to bump Finn's fist lightly and then heads into the hallway, slipping on his sneakers and leather jacket as he goes.
Finn shoots Santana a bemused glance. She just shakes her head, sets her jaw, and follows Puck out of the house. They walk shoulder-to-shoulder in the direction of the 7/11. For a while, neither of them say anything at all. They just walk and Santana can't help but notice the way he slows his pace to match hers (he's taller than she is, after all) or how their shoulders are close to touching or how his fingertips periodically brush hers before he slides his hands into the pockets of his jacket.
Meanwhile, since she'd taken off from Cleveland like a bat out of hell, she hadn't even brought many changes of clothes, much less a jacket. When she'd stopped at her parents' house last night, Santana had found some spare clothes that still fit, but when she was younger, she usually just stole boys' jackets and her Cheerios one was nowhere to be found. Santana wraps her arms loosely around herself and chews her bottom lip, waiting for him to say something. She doesn't want to be the one to break the silence, but it's starting to drive her insane. "So, out with it, Puckerman."
Puck looks at her for the first time since they left the house, eyes soft and open for the first time in forever. Santana has seen him vulnerable like that before, like when he gave up his daughter or when he'd stepped up Senior year to get her back. He always used to fade right back to his hard outer shell, though. This is unfamiliar and she blames the head trauma. Hopefully, he'll be back to normal soon. That might mean he wants nothing to do with her anymore, though. Santana's not so sure how she feels about that.
Puck shrugs out of his jacket and drapes it over her shoulders instead. Santana is hit with the rush of familiarity, the smell of smoke from the cigarettes and a smell that's just very Puck. She can't help but tuck herself into the warmth of the jacket, inhaling deeply and praying that he thinks she's just shivering from the cold. "I want to know why."
She sighs loudly. "If you remember, you remember why."
Santana's stopped walking. So has Puck. They're both standing in the middle of the street staring at each other. There's an obvious space between them, even if she's wearing his jacket. He's got both hands buried in the pockets of his jeans and his shoulders are slumped against the chill. "Because I'm not marriage material," he growls, his eyes immediately going to her left hand. Santana pulls both hands into the too-long sleeves of his jacket, but Puck already knows there's no ring there. "Which is bullshit."
She shrugs and starts walking again. "I broke up with you because we were going to different schools. Without me there to keep an eye on you, you'd have cheated on me within a month."
Puck's still standing still, watching her with narrowed eyes. After another second, his legs start working again and he takes several quick strides to meet up with her. He puts a hand on her shoulder and spins her around to face him. Santana's positively furious. "Don't touchme, Puck." It didn't hurt, not really, and he's only lightly gripping her shoulders as he ducks his head to catch her eye.
"I knowyou, San." Hazel eyes are boring into hers intently. She fights the urge to look away and glares right back at him. "I've known you forever. I can tell when you're lying." Santana has the annoying urge to kiss him again, but pushes that thought to the back of her mind and sets her face in a determined expression.
"I didn't tell you then. What makes you think I'd tell you now?"
"So there isa reason!"
Santana shakes free of his grasp and starts down the road again, turning her back on him. "There's always a reason."
It's Mr. Schuester's seventh period study hall. Half the glee club is present, as usual. Finn, Puck, and the boys are seated at one large, round table making paper airplanes and throwing them at people. One of Mike Chang's almost floors Rachel Berry. Meanwhile, the two of the Cheerios are sitting on top of the desk on the other side of the room. Quinn's reading something for History class and Santana's doing her nails. They're going to be black instead of red this time. Quinn notices. "What, no red?"
Santana simply shrugs, looking across the room at Puck from beneath her lashes. He looks up at about the same time and throws her a crooked half-smile that's more genuine than his usual Puckerman smirk. She can't help but smile back, though it's not as wide as it should be. Puck doesn't notice because Finn's just hit him in the back of the head with an airplane and now Puck's trying to put him in a headlock.
Quinn does, though. She raises a brow skeptically and closes her textbook. She says "Is something wrong?" in a tone that really says 'I know there is so spill.'
She's quiet as she applies polish to her pinky nail, being meticulous about not getting it on her skin. She finishes and holds her hand out to let the polish dry. "I got into U of Chicago." Quinn's other eyebrow arches up to meet its twin.
"So?" The blonde peers over at Puck, who's now leaning over something Finn's written on a scrap of paper. "He's been good lately."
"…I know."
"Hey, babe." Puck meets her at her locker and leans in to kiss her. She turns at just the right moment so he only get the corner of her mouth instead. His brows furrow for a second before he shrugs it off and leans against the lockers. "My Ma wanted to know if you wanted to come over for dinner after practice. Your parents and Carlos are supposed to be going."
Santana methodically gets her books from her locker and drops them into her bag, checks herself out in the mirror, and redoes her ponytail. She ignores the way Puck pulls at her hair to try and steal the elastic and expertly ties her hair up anyway. "Sorry. Can't."
"Oh." Puck frowns. "Why not?"
"Britt's failing Spanish. I'm tutoring her tonight so she can pass the final and graduate."
He blinks. He knows what Santana's form of 'tutoring' is. She's been tutoring him in Spanish since about the ninth grade, and they never get much studying down. He can't really help it. Her speaking Spanish is a total turn on and he can't help it if she somehow ends up on top of him half the time. "…when you say 'tutoring'…"
Santana rolls her eyes at him in the mirror hung up in her locker while she touches up her lip gloss for practice. "I mean just tutoring, Puck. If you can't make-out with other girls, neither can I." He looks momentarily satisfied.
"Well, do you want to come by after you're done tutoring?" Puck's words are suggestive and he's wearing his usual smirk.
Santana closes her locker with a 'snap'. "Can't. She's so far behind I'm gonna have to sleepover." She catches the worried expression cross Puck's face and caves, leaning in to brush her lips lightly over his. "Look, it's nothing. Britt knows we can't do that anymore, okay?"
"…okay. I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Yeah, tomorrow."
Brittany's little sister opens the door and squeals before throwing herself around Santana's middle. "San! I missed you." She looks over her shoulder and yells up the stairs. "Britt! Santana's here!"
Brittany comes down the stairs in her duck-printed pajamas, hair tied back, and carrying a box of Kleenex. "Oh, San! I didn't know you were coming o-" Her words are cut off by a sneeze and she sniffles a bit, swaying a little on the stairs. "…I'm sick."
Santana closes the door behind her and raises her brows. "I see that. You weren't in school today." She holds up a bag full of DVDs, a couple cans of Campbell's soup, and a stuffed duck. Brittany smiles a little sleepily and accepts the duck, tucking it up into her arms and declaring that she's naming him Ballad.
"That was real nice of you, San." Britt coughs into the stuffed animal's fur. "But I don't think you should stay. I wouldn't want you to get sick and then get Puck sick because you kiss him." Santana chuckles quietly and stops at the foot of the stairs.
"It's okay. I took some Airborne before I came over. Besides, somebody needs to take care of you."
"Jamie was."
"Jamie's seven." Brittany just shrugs and starts back up to her room on shaky legs. Santana follows a few steps behind in case she passes out.
A few minutes later, they're both tucked up in Britt's bed with a pillow-barrier between them at Brittany's insistence. It's annoying, because for once in her life Santana actually wants to cuddle (though, if she's honest, she'd prefer it with a certain mohawked boy), but she says nothing as the credits for Mean Girls play. "So, what's going on?" Santana blinks. Some people think Brittany's an idiot, but like Finn Hudson, she sees more than people give her credit for. And she knows Santana.
"What d'you mean?" Santana pops an Oreo into her mouth and chews thoughtfully, snorting at something on TV.
"I mean, why aren't you with Puck right now?" Santana mentally curses. If two of her oldest friends can tell something's up, Puck probably can, too. She shrugs.
"U of Chicago and OSU aren't exactly close."
Brittany giggles and leans over the pillows, propping her chin there and looking at her best friend. "Puck's, like, in love with you. He won't do anything stupid this time." She nods knowingly. "I talked to him."
Santana's eyes widen just slightly. "What'd you say to him?"
"Nothing. Just not to hurt you again because you're like a pineapple." When Santana's forehead wrinkles, Brittany adds, "Prickly on the outside but soft inside. He won't do it again. He promised." Santana bats the pillows away so she can pull Britt into a hug, germs be damned. She protests at first but ends up relaxing into it while they watch the movie.
About halfway through, Puck calls Santana to ask if she'll be at his game tomorrow. "I can't," she says, and Brittany coughs at the perfect time. "I'm sick."
When Puck gets home, he grabs his car keys and tells Finn they're going out. His friend doesn't protest and soon, they're both sitting at the Lima Tavern with two empty shot glasses each. Puck's turning his upside down whenever he finishes a shot of Jack Daniels and tries not to think about the time he tried to convince Quinn to name their kid that. Sure, it'd get his mind off of Santana for two seconds, but Beth isn't something he likes to think about much at all, much less when he's angry and on the verge of getting drunk.
"So," Puck drawls, looking down at Finn's hand as he spins a silver wedding band on the bar-top. "You're not married yet and didn't invite me, are you?"
Finn chuckles and clamps a hand over the ring, letting it spin to a halt and shaking his head. He's got his palm flat over it and closes his fist over it. "Nah. It was my Dad's." Puck nods and punches Finn's shoulder lightly, ordering up a couple more shots and two beers. At least they can afford something other than Natty Light now.
"Where you guys getting hitched?"
"Central Park. …you're best man, remember?"
"Yep. Rach's already called me fifty times about not making your bachelor party too 'inappropriate'."
They're avoiding the subject. It's the first time Puck's spoken since they entered the bar. He throws back his shot and opens his beer, taking a quick swig and looking Finn up and down. "You don't know why, do you?"
Finn shakes his head. "Naw, man. I don't think anybodydoes. Did you try asking Britt?"
Puck looks thoughtful and flips open his cell phone. He doesn't have Brittany's cell phone number anymore, but he does have the number to the apartment she shares with Santana. Her Papi had given it to him for emergency purposes. He hits call and turns around on his barstool, facing the door. The phone rings once, twice, three times before the answering machine picks up. It's a mix of Brittany and Santana's voices, cutting each other off every now and then.
Hey, you've reached Brittany-
And Santana.
We're not here-
-or are screening our calls.
So you can leave a message and we'll get back to you-
-if you're important enou-
"Hello?" Brittany answers the phone breathlessly. "San? That you?"
For a second, Puck is silent. It feels like he's sixteen again, calling up Brittany's house when he and Santana are fighting and she won't answer his calls on her cell. "Hey? Is anybody there? I'm hanging up in three, two o-"
"Britt? It's Puck."
She squeals. "Oh, Puck! You're okay, then? Do you remember who I am? Santana's not here, you know."
He can't help the laugh that escapes him as he rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah, I know. She's back in Lima trying to help me remember stuff."
"Well, d'you remember now? Like, do you remember my middle name? Or who my idol is?"
Puck pictures Brittany sprawled out across a couch in Santana's living room instead of in an apartment in Cleveland. "Sure. It's Susan. And you love Ke$ha." She claps on the other end of the phone and Finn chuckles.
"Who's that?"
"Finn."
"Hi, Finn!"
"Hey, Britt!"
Puck sets the phone on the counter and puts it on speaker. Some of the other people in the bar at two p.m. on a Monday look annoyed, but Joe says nothing. "So, why are you calling if you don't forget anything? Is Santana okay?" Puck doesn't really know how to answer that question without lying, so he doesn't.
"I was just wondering about something. Y'know how San broke up with me Senior year?"
"Uh-huh."
"D'you know why?" Brittany is quiet. Brittany's almost neverquiet, so Puck knows something's up. "Britt?"
"Yeah."
"Yeah, what?"
"Yeah, I know why. But I can't tell you. That's San's business, Puck. And I promised." Puck groans and flips the phone back off of speaker and puts it to his ear.
"Britt, I'd really like to- Hold on." His phone vibrates and he leans back to see one new text message from SANTANA. Blinking, he opens it to find remember the time we ran away? He figures she might've been drinking, too. They used to do that together, when things went bad.
"Puck? Can you hear me?"
"Yeah, sorry Britt. If you can't tell me I gotta go."
"Okay. Can you send San back soon? I'm lonely here."
"Bye, Britt."
"See you."
Finn stands up. "Where're you going?"
"To see Santana. You can stay here or go back home, but I gotta do this alone."
This ladder is a lot shakier than he remembers. Puck climbs the little rope-ladder up to the tree-house in his backyard. His Dad had started building it for him when he was eight, and Santana's Papi had finished it the following year. When they were younger, Santana had claimed partial ownership to it because of that. He thinks she must be up here.
When he pulls himself up through the hole in the floor, he takes a look around. It's pretty shabby now, since even Carlos and Sarah have grown out of using it. There are some posters on the walls, Enrique Iglasias (San's) and the Cincinnati Reds (Puck's) among some other things. At one point, they tried to hook electricity up here so they could watch TV and play videogames, but their mothers had refused. Santana's curled up in one corner, huddled in his jacket. It's really cold up here, actually.
"Santana?"
"Hey," is all she says. "I guess I can tell you now. I feel guilty enough."
"Did you cheat on me? Because that doesn't really matter. I did it enough times to you." He sinks down the wall to sit across from her, his foot nudging her side.
She shakes her head and pulls his jacket more tightly around her. "No, I didn't do that, Puck."
"How many did you have to drink, babe?"
"I was pregnant."
