Author's Note: Hey Y'all (:
The next installment is up! For those of you interested, I pictured Andrew Garfield as Thomas Maclean and Logan Lerman as Benji Westmore.
But anyway, here you go!
Thick as Thieves
Chapter Eight - The Principal
"… so just watch out for your ass and your partner's and you should be fine."
Santana nodded silently. She trudged through the claustrophobic, artificially-lit halls of the headquarters beside the man giving her a quick briefing as he led her to the Head of Faculty's office.
The Asian gave her a sideways glance, misinterpreting her nostalgic expression for one of anxiety.
"Hey, don't worry too much about it, Carla. Puck may seem real tough and scary, but he's actually really cool." Mike reached for the door and rapped at it sharply with his knuckles.
Puck? It couldn't be…
"Come in." barked a voice from inside.
Mike pushed the door open, and Santana forced herself to hold in a gasp.
The man seated behind the desk was tall and olive-skinned, with hazel eyes and broad shoulders. The way his broad chest and muscles filled in his suit served as a fair warning that this man was not to be defied. Everything about him seemed stern and tough, like an army officer or an athletic coach of sorts. His buzz cut really didn't help soften the look in the slightest. But Santana knew how that hair had once been styled in a single strip down his head, in a Mohawk so distinctive that it had become known as the "Puckerman".
"Good evening, sir. This here's Carla Rodriguez. She's just transferred from the NJPD." Mike announced.
"Ah, Carla. Yes. We've been expecting you." Puck said, extending a muscled arm for a handshake.
"Pleased to meet you, Sir."
As Mike stepped out of the office, a strange look crossed Puck's face. He frowned at her, not in hostility but rather, confusion. ""Do I- Do I know you from somewhere?" he inquired.
"No" she said, almost too quickly. She cleared her throat nervously. "Well, I've never seen you before and I just got here from New Jersey so…"
"Right, right. Of course. Sorry. You just look remarkably like someone that I used to know from high school." A genuine smile lit up face. "I'm Noah, but you can call me Puck. Everyone does."
"Puck?"
"Noah Puckerman."
"Oh. Right. Haha." She laughed uneasily.
"So, I understand you were uprooted for some… issues, at your old branch."
Santana swallowed back the lump in her throat. "Um… yeah."
"I won't make you talk about it, but seeing as we're going to be partners on this case, I want you to know that you can trust me to try my best to ensure nothing of the nature of what happened in that last assignment is going to happen again, okay?"
She glanced up, the eyes she met kind and understanding, a gentle smile on the former jock's face.
She felt so guilty, but she smiled in spite of herself.
"Sure thing, Puck."
"Good. Well. So we're tracking some Property Bigshot accused of masterminding a murder. Fun stuff, huh?" He sat back in his chair, smirking slightly.
Not trusting herself to speak just yet, Santana nodded mutely.
"Hmm. Well you only start work on Monday, so I'd suggest you go out there and enjoy your first few nights here in Vegas. I'd show you around myself, but I've got all these reports to fill out by tomorrow. The girls Kayleigh and Sarah are lovely though, I'm sure they wouldn't mind giving you a tour of the city-"
"It's fine! Don't worry about me, Puck. I've got it covered. But thanks." Santana cut in.
He looked mildly taken aback, but nodded nonetheless. "Okay then. You are a highly trained agent after all. But do take care. I'll see you back here first thing Monday?"
"Of course, Puck." She stood, holding her hand out for a shake.
"Have a good weekend." He grasped her hand firmly, his large, strong hand nearly engulfing hers. She turned to leave and had a hand around the doorknob when he called out again. "Oh, and Carla?"
He smirked, though the expression just seemed wrong when she was so used to the mischievous sparkle belonging in green eyes, not hazel.
"Welcome to fabulous Las Vegas."
Well crap. Things had just gotten a whole lot more complicated.
Several weeks later
Sebastian's charisma and impish charm helped him blend seamlessly in with the rest of the students and within a few days of being there, it seemed as through he had been attending Sansbury hall as long as everyone else had. He was acing his classes and the teachers adored him. He joined the soccer team alongside Benji, who apparently was a very talented goalkeeper.
Sebastian and Benji had gotten along right from that very first day. Much to the annoyance of Tom Maclean, who was hoping Sebastian would join his group of friends and bring with him his increasingly large hoard of female admirers. As far as Sebastian was concerned, the people Tom hung around with were a bunch of utter douchebags and he and Benji enjoyed making fun of them as often as an opportunity presented itself, which seeing as the subject weren't the brightest bulbs in the shed, was fairly frequent.
Hanging around Benji helped numb the sense of dread that threatened to overwhelm him at times, but for now, he was fairly safe. Playing the role of a preppy high school student in a private school out in the English countryside wasn't somewhere that he was likely to be found.
Benji's boyish innocence and love for music reminded Sebastian a lot of Blaine, and the jam sessions they had brought back fond memories of his high school life and musical aspirations he had shared with his best friend in the Anderson basement over countless mugs of hot chocolate.
In fact, even here in Sansbury, Sebastian found himself experiences brief bouts of déjà vu relating back to those times whenever he was hanging out with Benji. Sometimes it was when they were jamming to an old 90's hit in their dorm, or simply just hanging around in a comfortable silence.
The occupants of 3K were spending the Saturday afternoon just lazing around the room, procrastinating and avoiding having to leave the warm comfort of their respective beds.
"Oi, Toby." Benji suddenly said.
"Benjamin."
"You're taking part in that contest, right? The school talent show?
"Oh. I um… I don't know"
"You fully shoud, mate. You're really good."
"Maybe. Are you?"
"Heeeeell yeah."
Sebastian smiled. "Well, there ya go. I'll vote for you."
"No you won't, you'll be taking part, too!"
"Look, Benji, I don't know." Sebastian had said solemnly, sitting up and running a hand through his messy hair.
Benji whined. "Come on, Toby. You're fucking brilliant. It'd be a shame if you didn't go and showcase that dapper voice of yours."
"I could say the same about you."
"Exactly, mate. Don't you see? It'll be like the sing-off of the century! The chicks will be talking about this for years!" Benji exclaimed, jumping up and bumping his head on a bed post. "Ow."
Sebastian smiled. Maybe he would sing in that stupid competition after all. He'd been feeling increasingly depressed (in spite of Benji constantly cheering him up with his deadpan humour or general clumsiness), and Sebastian had always felt so much better after being able to pour out his emotions in song. And Benji was right about the sing-off; they would be legends. Plus, the aspiring musician had been such a great friend the past few weeks; Sebastian felt the least he could do was to finally get him the girl he'd been pining after for ages.
McKenzie Stuart was a petite girl with jet-black hair and huge doe eyes that Benji had had a crush on since he'd first met her nearly three years ago. From what Sebastian saw, it was pretty darn obvious that she had a thing for Benji too, but the two were too shy or oblivious to do anything about it. Sebastian was getting frustrated with the pair's constant bashful flirting, and constantly fought back the urge to yell "get a room" when he was around them.
For a mixture of these two reasons – a chance of personal expression as well as a favour to a friend– coupled with a pleading, puppy-dog expression from Benji, Sebastian made his decision.
He huffed in mock annoyance. "Fine. I'll do it."
The blue-eyed room mate fist pumped and shouted in exuberance.
"This is fantastic. Booyah. Okay I need a song to sing. What to sing what to sing what to sing. You're going down, Larson. What to sing… I'm gonna smash you. Ahh! I think I know! No, no no no that wouldn't work at all. Damn it." Benji paced around the room, muttering under his breath at full speed as Sebastian watched on in amusement. God, this kid HAD to be related to Blaine.
"What are you singing, Toby?"
Sebastian considered this for a moment. As always, his thoughts flew right back to Santana. This song would be dedicated to her. He was going to make it perfect, express everything he was feeling about her. About them.
"I think," he said "I've got it sorted."
It had been three frustrating weeks of fruitless searching. All Santana could say she achieved was that she found out about Graham Sexton's many affairs. As much as this was good information for blackmail, it was worthless to her at the moment. She had tracked all his calls with the help of Mike, who was the audiovisual technician in her division and nothing he had done was out of the ordinary. Business calls, bank transactions, nothing suspicious or worthy of a warrant. Without any evidence, Graham Sexton was innocent, which meant that Sebastian would never be truly safe. Her department was going to drop the case any moment, but Puck seemed to have developed a soft spot for her and had helped to push the deadline of the case back, buying her more time. She couldn't have been more grateful.
One Thursday night, Santana was pouring over files, credit card statements and phone records, looking for something; anything that could possibly be a lead to buy her more time. There were only so few more excuses Puck could feed the management before the case was shut down for good.
She gulped down some more coffee only to find the cup empty. With a low grumble, she moved from the desk to get some more, stretching out her stiff back and numb legs. Her heels clicking sharply against the linoleum floors, she heading to the pantry and set a pot of coffee to boil. As she waited, she suppressed a huge yawn and sat back in one of the chair while waiting, folding her arms on the table and resting her head atop them. She hadn't slept in more than thirty hours and was positively exhausted.
Next thing she knew, she was being prodded gently in the arm. Her reflexes kicked in and she immediately karate chopped at the hand resting on her shoulder.
"Ow! Fuck, that hurt, damn it! What was that for?" Puck bellowed, clutching his arm where the heel of her hand had hit.
"Puck? I'm so sorry! It was instinct, I didn't mean it, I swear."
"Ow."
"I'm so sorry!"
Puck looked at her for a moment, taking in her disheveled appearance and bloodshot eyes. He sighed.
"Don't worry about it. I'll live. But Carla, you really, reall need a break. You're working way too hard. I admire your dedication, in fact, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were out to get this bastard personally." He chuckled, and Santana stiffened. Thankfully, it went unnoticed as he continued "If you carry on this way, you're gonna fall sick and I'm gonna have to take you off the assignment."
Santana had begun to protest, but promptly shut her mouth when she realized he was right. She had worked herself absolutely down to the bone in the past few weeks. She desperately needed break.
Santana sighed. "Well, what do you suggest, sir?"
"I think you should call it a night. You're not even on shift right now! Go grab your coat. My shift ends in…" he checked his watch "ten minutes. Meet me out front in twelve. It's Open Mic night at O'Hagan's tonight and a few of us are going. You've been here nearly a month and still haven't been given the official welcome!"
Santana couldn't hold back a smirk. "Lemme guess – Newbie's gotta get thrashed and sing?"
Puck's impish grin was all the answer she needed, really. "You know it, sister."
They were speeding down the strip on Puck's Harley twenty minutes later. Clinging on tightly to Puck's chest, Santana raised the visor on her helmet and looked around the bright neon lights in awe.
Home.
Se remembered the flashy lights, the glamour and flamboyance of the city that never sleeps. Holding her grandmother's hand and walking down the streets, soaking in the merciless Nevada sun, sucking on ice blocks purchased from the push cart stalls. She had left Las Vegas for San Francisco just before her sixth birthday, but the lights triggered odd flashes of her past that made her wonder what it would have been like if she had stayed in the busy hustle of the notorious city instead of the quaint elegance of San Francisco.
They sped along, weaving effortlessly through traffic, a warm breeze running through her hair as she subconsciously drew herself closer to Puck's back. She had to admit that she had missed him. Even since high school, the two had always gotten along right from the start. Sure, everyone else saw them as mere fuck buddies, but they were both clear that that was all they wanted out of each other, so apart from the sex, their relationship had been solely platonic.
Puck turned off into one of the many alleys along the strip, pulling up into a motorcycle parking space in front of a pub with a huge sign on the front saying "O'Hagan's". A small neon sign in the corner had "Open Mic Night, Thursdays 9p.m onwards. All are welcome." Tucking their helmets into the glove box, Puck grabbed Santana hand and dragged her through the double French doors.
They were greeted by several familiar faces from the audience, and Santana was glad to finally be spending some social time away from work. She was having a great time chatting and socializing with her new colleagues and after several rounds of shots (courtesy of everyone offering to buy her drinks) Santana was finally starting to loosen up for the first time in weeks.
When the host for the night announced that the stage was free for performers, Santana immediately grabbed hold of Puck and pulled him upstage for a duet.
"Hi everyone. I'm San.. hic- Carla. I'm Carla. And this here's Puck! Everyone give a round of applause for Puck!"
The Bar patrons laughed and clapped sportingly.
The music began and everyone cheered when the familiar tune came on. Taking the stand, Puck stepped forward to start the first verse, Sanata singing slightly drunkenly along in the background.
If you see a faded sign -at- the side of the road that says
15 miles to the...
Love Shack! Love Shack yea yeah
I'm headin' down the Atlanta highway, lookin' for the love getaway
Heading for the love getaway, love getaway,
I got me a car, it's as big as a whale and we're headin' on down
To the Love Shack
I got me a Chrysler, it seats about 20
So hurry up and bring your jukebox money
Santana literally strutted forward to carry the chorus, everyone catcalling and cheering her on.
Well the Love Shack is a little old place where we can get together
Love Shack baby, Love Shack bay-bee.
Love Shack, baby Love Shack, Love Shack, baby Love Shack!
Sign says.. Woo... stay away fools, 'cause love rules at the Love Shack!
Well it's set way back in the middle of a field,
Just a funky old shack and I gotta get back
Glitter on the mattress
Glitter on the highway
Glitter on the front porch
Glitter on the hallway
The Love Shack is a little old place where we can get together
Love Shack baby! Love Shack baby!
Love Shack, that's where it's at! Love Shack, that's where it's at!
Facing each other and singing together, Santana and Puck belted out the rest of the song together.
Huggin' and a kissin', dancin' and a lovin', wearin' next to nothing
Cause it's hot as an oven
The whole shack shimmies
when everybody's movin' around and around and around!
Everybody's movin', everybody's groovin' baby!
Folks linin' up outside just to get down
Everybody's movin', everybody's groovin' baby
Funky little shack! Funky little shack!
Hop in my Chrysler, it's as big as a whale and it's about to set sail!
I got me a car, it seats about 20
So come on and bring your jukebox money.
Well the Love Shack is a little old place where we can get together
Love Shack baby, Love Shack bay-bee.
Love Shack, baby Love Shack, Love Shack, baby Love Shack,Love Shack,
baby Love Shack!
The whole bar joined in. It was a delightful, spirited energy and Santana felt truly happy for the first time in ages. Two young men, one tall and lanky with cropped blonde hair and the other shorter with brown locks, whooped and hollered loudly. Santana blew them kisses from the stage.
Bang bang bang on the door baby! Knock a little louder baby!
Bang bang bang on the door baby! I can't hear you!
Bang bang bang on the door baby! Knock a little louder suga
Bang bang bang on the door baby! I can't hear you!
Bang bang bang! On the door baby (knock a little louder)
Bang bang bang! On the door
Bang bang bang! On the door baby
Bang bang!
You're what?... Tin roof, rust!
Love Shack, baby Love Shack, Love Shack, baby Love Shack!
Love Shack, baby Love Shack, Love Shack, baby Love Shack!
A lot of love at the love shack
Sebastian hit the final notes on the piano and stopped, resting his hands on either side of his legs on the stool.
That run of the song, like all the others, had been flawless. He hit every note beautifully and his voice never so much as faltered throughout the length of the song.
But Sebastian was not happy. Because the person he was singing it to would never hear him perform it.
He huffed and started another run through, pouring all his sadness and frustration into the words, yearning for some relief from the pain and torment he was feeling. Finding love, only to have it ripped away. It's better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all, right?
He was so caught up in his thoughts that it took him a moment to realize that someone had begun applauding at the end of his rehearsal. He snapped his head up, meeting the stormy grey eyes of the school's principal.
"Professor Burton!"
"Mr. Larson. That was… well. That was simply outstanding."
"I… thank you, Ma'am."
"You have a gift, Toby. Treasure it."
Sebastian was taken aback. The strict professor was showing a softer side, encouraging. She was smiling softly, her eyes somehow gentler as they sparkled in the dim light. She reached out and lightly pressed a few keys, the notes resonating around the empty music hall in a beautiful, haunting echo.
"My husband used to play. He was a concert pianist." She stated.
Slightly weirded out and unsure, Sebastian merely nodded.
"He died eight years ago from stomach cancer. He would have turned sixty four today." She continued; a distant look in her eyes.
"I'm sorry, Ma'am. He sounded- sounds- like a great man."
She focused back on him and smiled. "He was. He was kind, caring and passionate, especially about music. This annual talent show is in commemoration of him. Do him proud, Toby."
Sebastian was moved by the adoration in the old Professor's voice as she spoke of her husband; how he could almost hear her heart breaking when she mentioned his death. Even after all these years, time never fully healed the gaping hole left in her heart. Her husband's loss still pained her.
He understood exactly how she felt. Time would do nothing for him; the only thing that could make him feel whole again was Santana. Even if his days were numbered, he wondered how she would feel for the rest of her life. Would she move on, settle down and be happy? Or end up like Professor Burton, allowing herself to get swallowed by the severity of control, loving his memory with the remaining fragments of her broken heart?
He really hoped it would be the former. She deserved a life of happiness, one she wouldn't be able to find with him. But then again, this was Santana Lopez, and he knew that when she wanted something, she would go to the ends of the world to get it. And Sebastian loved that about her - the fierce determination, the hunger for success.
What he never knew back then was how that same determination would nearly kill her in her quest to get him back.
Having Sobered up slightly, Santana took to the stage once again.
The opening guitar chords began on the karaoke machine and she fought to control the emotional wavering in her voice.
I miss those blue eyes
How you kiss me at night
I miss the way we sleep
Not blue, she thought in her hazy mind. Not blue. Green. The most beautiful shade of green in existence.
Like there's no sunrise
Like the taste of your smile
I miss the way we breathe
But I never told you
What I should have said
No, I never told you
I just held it in
And now,
I miss everything about you
Can't believe that I still want you
And after all the things we've been through
I miss everything about you
Without you
She choked back a sob. Why couldn't she just have told him? Now it was too late.
I see your blue eyes
Everytime I close mine
You make it hard to see
Where I belong to
When I'm not around you
It's like I'm alone with me
But I never told you
What I should have said
No, I never told you
I just held it in
A single tear rolled down her cheek.
And now,
I miss everything about you
Can't believe that I still want you
And after all the things we've been through
I miss everything about you
Without you
But I never told you
What I should have said
No, I never told you
I just held it in
And now,
I miss everything about you
Can't believe that I still want you
And after all the things we've been through
I miss everything about you
Without you
Mumbling a quick 'thank you' to the applauding audience, Santana ran off stage and to the bathroom. The floodgates opened and she cried until she felt she had no tears left to cry.
She was tired, so very tired. She missed Sebastian so much it hurt. She curled up into a ball against the tiled wall, rocking slightly in her heels.
The buzzing of her phone brought her back to reality. She sniffed to clear her nose and answered her phone.
"Hello?" her voice was thick and hoarse from all the crying.
"Santana?" She froze. Who could possibly know her name? This was her work phone! She was starting to panic when the male voice continued.
"Or should I say, Carla." An uneasy chuckle. "This is Mike."
She was still stuck in a confused silence.
"Don't worry, I'm on your side. I'm working for- with Artie."
At the mention of Artie's name, Santana relaxed.
"Oh right. Mike. Wow."
"Yeah. We go way back."
"So all along, you've known what's going on?"
"Yupp. Every detail." He said chirpily. "Man, Sebastian's got himself in deep shit."
She cleared her throat.
"Right. Not helping." He answered rather sheepishly.
"No." she said coldly.
"Anyway, based on the fact that there are no loud voices or bass music in the background, I assume you're in the pub's bathroom right now."
Hmm. He wasthe audio technician, after all. He was trained to analyse things like these.
"Is anyone else in there?"
Only then did she realise that in her distressed meltdown, there might have been elephants dancing in the room and she wouldn't have noticed. She did a quick check of the stalls.
"Yeah. All clear."
"Good. Because what I'm about to tell you is classified information." He paused, and Santana found herself holding her breath. "Santana, we've got ourselves a lead."
*DUN DUN DUN* hehe hoped you all enjoyed the chapter! Please drop in a review if you have the time(: Thanks for reading!
Song Credits:
Love Shack - B-52's
I Never Told You - Colbie Caillat