A/N: Umm, I'm starting to hate Lima myself, just saying. I feel like it's just gotten kind of fluffy but I hope you guys enjoy the loads and loads of plot I threw at you. I always appreciate reviews. Criticism is like my best friend when I'm writing. Thanks for those who continue to read and review. Sorry for you guys who don't like the AU meeting Cannon, but whatever, this was how it's been going in my head so this is how it goes on paper.

Warnings: I don't own Glee or any of the characters or any of the songs I may use. This will include lesbian sex, maybe some hetero but it's not likely. Possibly Finn bashing, I'm not entirely sure how yet, but I'll try to find a way, might even toss in some Jesse bashing.

The rest of the week consisted of us laying low during the day and going to glee in the afternoon. We sat in on a few classes but most of our time was spent out at the bleachers. Sometimes someone would skip a class or two with us and while I warned against it, it definitely made the experience more interesting. Sam and Noah would bring their guitars, Brittany was fairly amusing on her own, and Matt would bring assignments Santana would end up doing. It was sort of fun. The worst parts of the days were when we'd run across Quinn and Santana would draw me behind her. She went out of her way to not cross the paths of Mercedes, Dave, and Azimio. I hated how Quinn glared at me, we'd pass her in the hall and even if I couldn't see it after Santana pulled me away I'd still feel the iciness of her gaze.

"Chill," Santana mumbled in my ear as she passed.

"But-" I tried looking back.

Santana would only move between us again, urging me to walk to our next destination, "But she's mad at the wrong person."

I couldn't see past Santana, instead I just kept walking.

She didn't seem very interested in the glee lesson and I tried to talk her into doing it. She didn't exactly want to but I wore her down. She wouldn't tell me what song she was doing; instead she'd go to Noah's once she got me home. She assured me they were actually working on a song but I wasn't exactly excited about her going over to his house. I begged her to tell me what song she planned on singing but she wouldn't tell and neither would Noah. I hadn't realized I'd gotten so used to having her around until I had to find something to do. I went with Matt to play video games at Sam's house once, and he asked a few questions about Santana. More interesting was the night Aunt V showed me her high school yearbook.

I walked into the living room, hoping to hang out with someone, "Hello Aunt V."

"Hey Rach," she smiled up from the book on her lap.

"What're you looking at?" I wondered.

She patted the seat cushion next to her, "My old yearbook. Come here I've wanted to ask you and Santana something."

"Santana's working on her glee project with Noah Puckerman," I pointed out as I sat next to her, looking at the pictures.

"I'll ask her later than," she flipped through some pages until she found a particular one. She traced her fingers down the names at the sides before sliding across to a woman and asking, "Does she look familiar?"

She did. At least, her features did. I saw soft lips pulled up into the genuinely happy smile I'd only witnessed a few times. Comforting brown eyes beamed up at me. The only off-putting thing was that these features all looked up from beneath different hair than I remembered and darker skin. I looked up from the picture to Aunt V, confusion obvious on my face.

"That's Maricel Williams," she explained. "She was a friend of mine in high school. We sort of lost touch after graduation, but I heard about her every once in a while. She went to a state school and met her husband. They had a little girl."

"You think-"

She nodded slightly, "Santana looks so similar. Every time I see her I can't help but think of how familiar she looks so I finally went through my yearbook. Do you know anything about her parents?"

I shook my head, letting my eyes fall back to the picture, "She never really mentions them. She lived with her uncle before she moved with us."

Aunt V only nodded, "I could be wrong. I'll ask her some time."

"Alright," I looked back to the picture, "I think I'm going to go back to the room though."

"Alright sweetheart," she nodded before flipping through the book.

I went to the room to open my computer, still looking for a distraction. I couldn't keep my mind from wandering back to the picture of the girl who looked so much like Santana. It resulted in me staring at the same assignment until the very girl I'd been thinking of came home and sat next to me pulling me from my thoughts and the computer from my lap.

"Did you just start?" She wondered.

"Excuse me?" I was too focused on her features, distorted in concentration as she read the assignment.

"Did you just start? You're usually pretty good at English." She answered a few questions.

"Oh," I looked to it, "Yes." I moved to try and look like I was more focused on the work than her face, "How was your night?"

"Pretty relaxed," she shrugged, "Puck was babysitting so we spent the night working on the song."

"And you still won't tell me what it is?" I pleaded, looking back to her.

She smiled a shadow of the smile the girl in the yearbook wore and shook her head, "You have to wait like everyone else."

I couldn't help but pout as she laughed, her smile growing. I was still curious, but I wasn't sure how to bring up the question of her parents; instead I just sat with her, talking about playing video games with Noah's younger sister and finding her music.

}{

The day I was finally going to be able to listen to Santana's song I spent the day on the edge of my seat, but she was constantly anxious. It was Friday and she had on her leather jacket. She hadn't been wearing it very much lately. She was especially careful to avoid anybody with the familiar gas-station cups. Nobody came to the bleachers to skip with us and I didn't urge her to come with me to find a class we could sit in. We sat silently on the bleachers, her back against the seat behind her, her head tilted back as if she were staring up but her eyes were closed. She'd borrowed Noah's IPod and had one ear bud in. I watched her curiously; taking in every detail. She was so lost in her thoughts.

"San," I called gently.

She didn't respond right away.

"Santana," I called again.

She hummed a response, letting me know she was listening.

"What're you thinking about?"

She finally opened her eyes, but other than that she didn't move.

"You just seem-"

"I'm going to ask you to do me a favor," she reached up to pull the ear bud from her ear, "And by ask I mean you're going to do it."

She didn't really give me much choice but to nod.

"Don't ask me about the stupid song," she stated.

"But-"

She cut me off, "I might tell you about it, I might not. I haven't decided yet, but either way I'll tell you what you need to know, when you need to know."

I nodded slowly.

"Thank you," she mumbled before replacing her ear bud and pulling a cigar from her pocket.

}{

We slipped into the room right away. If anything Santana had gotten more stressed out as the day went on. She was speaking even less and the boys weren't exactly urging her, especially Noah, who kept throwing her glances. Quinn, Mercedes, and Brittany came in. The shorter blonde and Brunette sat on the other side of the room while the dancer gave Santana a small smile before following her friends. Finn gave me a smile as well before looking away guiltily, when I looked up I saw Santana nodding her head to the side of the room Quinn went to sit on. Eventually, everyone seemed to be in the room chattering lightly when Mr. Schuester came in.

"Hey guys, hope you all had a good week. Why don't we just jump into this? Does anyone have a song?"

Santana didn't raise her hand right away.

"Anybody?" He asked again.

"Santana does," Noah announced, bumping the girl's shoulder before dropping some papers onto her lap and grinning, "Got 'em printed for you."

She gave him a silent glare before shrugging, "I guess I do."

"Alright well come on up," he waved her up, a slightly unnerving smile on his face as she went up.

She handed the music to the guy before pulling a wooden stool up to where the teacher had just been standing. She pulled her jacket off and sat it on the stool, revealing how particularly small and vulnerable she looked for once. She pulled her hair out of the bun and let it fall over her shoulders before brushing it to one side. She picked up the jacket and replaced it on her lap as she sat down. She seemed to be struggling to keep her back straight as she spoke, more to the floor than her audience, "So, this is stupid or whatever but Rachel wouldn't leave me alone about it."

"Whatever helps you Santana," Schuester nodded.

She signaled for the blonde man at the piano to start playing and the sound filled the room.

"Back when I was a child
Before life removed all the innocence
My father would lift me high
And dance with my mother and me
And then
Spin me around 'till I fell asleep
Then up the stairs he would carry me
And I knew for sure
I was loved"

She was fidgeting slightly. I watched as she played with the collar of the jacket. She was doing her best to keep her back straight and keep her voice up. Her hair had fallen over half of her face at some point.

"If I could get another chance
Another walk
Another dance with him
I'd play a song that would never ever end
How I'd love love love
To dance with my father again"

Her shoulders began slumping slightly. She was wringing the jacket in her hands as she paused.

"When I and my mother
Would disagree
To get my way I would run
From her to him
He'd make me laugh just to comfort me
yeah yeah
Then finally make me do
Just what my mama said
Later that night when I was asleep
He left a dollar under my sheet
Never dreamed that he
Would be gone from me"

I saw the shadow of Maricel's bright smile again. She looked like she was remembering something as she began the verse but the memory seemed to have dissipated as she reached the last line.

"If I could steal one final glance
When final step
One final dance with him
I'd play a song that would never ever end
Cause I'd love love love to
Dance with my father again"

"Every night I fall asleep
And this is all I ever dream"

Santana's song came to a subtle end. She sat on the stool still playing with the jacket. Nobody said or did anything until she stood up, twisting it over her shoulders before slipping it on. When she looked up to everyone her face was the same mask of boredom it usually was. Everyone started clapping as she came to reclaim her seat next to me. Noah and Sam patted her on the back while I could only watch her with eyes full of questions I wasn't supposed to ask and hope, or maybe wait, for answers to the questions I couldn't voice. I couldn't pull my eyes away from her, even as Mr. Schuester discussed what we supposedly learned from the lesson. He thanked Santana and everyone else who'd performed earlier that week before wishing everyone a good weekend. I let Santana lead me silently to Matt's truck. He caught on quickly to the subject we were avoiding.

"Are you guys doing anything this weekend?" He wondered as he drove us home.

She shrugged slightly, "I was going to see if Rachel wanted to go dress shopping."

"Oh, you guys are going to homecoming?" He grinned.

"Yes," I nodded, "Santana asked Noah to get us some tickets."

"Great," he beamed, "You two got dates yet?"

She shook her head, "I'm just going with her, and I'm hoping that dope Finn doesn't ask her."

I blushed at that and pouted.

"He's not that bad of a guy," Matt shrugged, but even I could tell he understood. "You two can borrow the truck tomorrow if you need it."

"That'd be wonderful, thank you Matt," I pulled on a smile.

}{

Santana and I fell into our usual patterns now that she wasn't working on her song with Noah. We talked and did my assignments. She really just avoided the topic of music all together. We were in the kitchen working as she made us food; rather, she read the back of a package of tortillas and promised they'd make a perfect substitute for bread before slathering them in peanut butter and jelly. I was skeptical but took the offered food finding I quite enjoyed it although I made sure to read the package of my own accord. We sat at the bar and stared at the computer screen.

"It's not five," she corrected.

"It's five," I stated, redoing the math.

"It's not five," she stated, not even bothering to do the math.

"It is," I was still doing the work.

"Then click submit," she challenged.

I stopped doing the work to glare at her before hovering the mouse over the submit button.

"Do it," she smirked.

"And what do I get if I'm right?" I questioned.

"Ignoring the fact that I just made you lunch?" She scoffed, "How about a good grade?"

I shook my head and thought for a moment before growing a bit serious. "Will you tell me about the song?"

Her features visibly darkened at that. I almost expected her to be angry when she spoke but she wasn't. It was more of a warning when she mumbled, "Rachel."

"Please Santana," I pleaded, turning away from the computer now, "Just tell me something about it?"

Her eyes moved to the screen now and I expected her to say no. "Answer the question."

I watched her for a bit longer before clicking submit. The computer seemed to take forever before the page loaded. I could only watch as the next page came up, the same question in place, an angry red X alerting me to the fact that I'd gotten the question wrong. I heard the squeak of the stool on the tile as she got up to leave. Guilt flooded over me for the umpteenth time since we'd gotten to Lima. I couldn't make myself watch her retreating form.

"It was his jacket," she tossed over her shoulder before she disappeared entirely.

Santana skipped dinner that night. I went to the bed to find her in the bed. She didn't even pretend to sleep she just ignored me and continued texting with her back to me. I wasn't used to her ignoring me like that; usually I at least had some of her attention. I watched the flickering light of her phone and listened to the clicking of her thumbs over the keyboard.

"I'm sorry," I finally mumbled.

The sound of the phone stopped for a moment and she lowered it so I couldn't see the glow for a moment.

"I shouldn't have asked."

She still didn't say anything before the clicking began again.

I sighed and let myself drop onto the bed, resigning to a fitful sleep.

}{

I woke up alone; a little worried about where Santana might be. I got out of bed and went to the kitchen, glad to find her there talking with Aunt V over coffee and oatmeal. She didn't exactly address me so much as she pointed to the pot on the stove. I grabbed a bowl and filled it on my own before joining them, leaning on the bar as I ate. Aunt V greeted me before continuing their discussion. I caught on right away, a little surprised at Santana's willingness to talk about it.

"You're just the all-American girl aren't you?" Aunt V teased.

Santana smiled bashfully, "No, I'm not all that."

"You sing, you play sports, you're gorgeous, smart, and charming," Aunt V listed, "Is there anything you can't do?"

"She's pretty bad at history," I pointed out.

Santana nodded and lifted her coffee mug to her lips.

"Nobody uses that," she laughed. "Really though, you're just a very impressive person. Rachel, did you know she could sing?"

I nodded, looking to her curiously, "I've told her before but she didn't seem interested."

"I'm a bodyguard," she shrugged, "I like my job. It's gotten me a good friend," she waved her mug towards me, "And I've travelled far more than I would have if I'd just gone to school."

I blushed at that, feeling guilt swell in me once more. I didn't know if she was admitting it or throwing it in my face.

"I suppose you're right, and while college might have been a beneficial experience, it's good that you've found your calling so young, and a friend in my niece," she beamed at both of us.

"Thank you," Santana smiled back to her politely.

"Well, I hope you two have a good day," she smiled between us before heading out of the kitchen.

Once aunt V was gone I looked to her guiltily, "Santana I'm still sorry about-"

"I told you I'd tell you, just trust that I will and please don't ask again," she mumbled.

"Alright," I nodded, keeping my eyes on her.

We sat in silence for a moment before she rolled her eyes, "Finish your oatmeal so I can get the keys from Matt."

"Are you sure you wouldn't reconsider going to the dance properly with me?" I wondered as I did as she told me.

She shook her head, "You're going to go to the dance, probably with some boy you don't care about, take pictures, and dance until they make us leave. I'll be in the background like I'm supposed to be."

"But you shouldn't be," I argued laying my spoon in the now empty bowl, "You're my friend, and taking pictures with some boy I won't even think about in two weeks wouldn't mean more than taking them with you."

She looked to me curiously before shrugging, "We'll find a photo booth at the mall."

"That's not what I mean," I glared at her before she headed off leaving her bowl and mug for me to wash.

}{

Matt's instructions got us to the mall alright. When we got there, Santana mostly followed me through the stores. At first, she was fine with watching me try on dresses and shoes and giving her opinions on things. After seven stores, she was less fine. She was groaning and whining the whole time. She'd brought a few into the dressing room for me and hung them up before sitting and wearily waiting for me.

"Come on Rachel," she demanded, "How long does it take you to try on a dress?"

"Don't rush me," I tossed back.

"Then don't take forever," she challenged, "We've been here all day."

"It isn't even noon yet," I mumbled as I opened the door.

"No," she said immediately as she saw the pink ruffles that brushed just over my knees.

"What's wrong with it?" I demanded, bringing my arms up to cover my chest as I grew self-conscious.

She reached down to feel the pink tulle that made the skirt, "It's not pretty enough."

"It's not?" I wondered, reaching down to brush my fingers over the fabric as well as I looked to the large mirror beside us.

"I mean, it shows off plenty of skin," she smirked as she ran her fingertip over my shoulder.

I shuddered before crossing my arms over my chest again.

She urged them down and chuckled, "But it looks cheap. You want this to be a night can remember right?"

I nodded hesitantly before looking back to her.

"Then get a dress you'll remember," she went back to the pile of dresses I'd approved of. She brought a pink gown out and held it before me, "It's nice but," I was blushing when she shrugged, "You couldn't dance in it." I watched her walk to the pile of dresses I'd long ago rejected. She flipped through a moment before settling on one she approved of. She swung it before me and beamed proudly at me, and I couldn't help but focus more on that than myself for a moment. She slipped the hanger over my neck and that's when I started to look at the dress. It was a little white thing with a deep neck line and tight bodice, reminiscent of a former sex icon. I looked at her incredulously as she urged me back into the dressing room.

"Santana, I couldn't wear something like this, it's far too-" I had to think of a word, "Too scandalous."

"Perfect," she nodded approvingly before pulling the door shut.

Despite my words, I found myself changing into the dress. I hung up the other one neatly but took my time to admire myself in the mirror. I wasn't used to showing off curves the way that this dress did. I caught myself trailing my fingertips over the barely exposed skin of my chest. I had to admire the contrast of the light color against my olive skin. I was mesmerized by the image looking back at me. I was so lost that I jumped at the sound of Santana clearing her throat.

"How often am I really wrong?" She questioned as she came into the room, pulling the door closed behind her, and actually locking it.

"It's just so…" I ran my palms down my sides before turning to face the mirror from the side, "Beautiful."

"And?" She wondered.

"I'm not," I hadn't meant to say it, and when I saw the disapproval in her eyes I went on, "I mean, not traditionally. Marilyn Monroe was a sex icon because she was what everyone wanted to see. I'm not like that."

She turned me around so quickly I couldn't really argue. She gripped my hips as she looked me in the eyes and ground out, "Fuck being traditionally beautiful. People weren't paying out the ass for tickets to your show because they didn't want to see you. You're Rachel fucking Berry, and you look amazing in this dress, but you can't wear a dress like this unless you can look everybody else in the eye in it and introduce yourself like that."

"I suppose," I let my eyes drift back to the mirror.

"Say it," she urged.

"I'm Rachel Berry and-"

"Rachel fucking Berry," she corrected.

"I'm Rachel," I blushed as I looked up to her stern eyes, "Fucking Berry, and I look amazing in this dress."

She smiled and let go of my hips, "You really do."

My cheeks burned fiercely, "Thank you."

"Now, let's find you shoes," she turned away quickly, but not quickly enough that I couldn't see the color that came to her own cheeks.

In order to make the dress my own, Santana found me a black belt, clutch, and heels. She seemed glad to be done with all of the shopping, but something else seemed to be on her mind. She showed a different anxiety than she had the day before. She seemed more like she was waiting to be caught doing something she wasn't supposed to be. I wanted to ask about it, but I assumed it would be for the best if I didn't. Instead, I let her take me to the food court, and question every restaurant until she found one that seemed suitable for me. We ate tofu and chicken wraps, in somewhat silent comfort. I was enjoying it when the bubbly blonde that continued showing up chose that moment to make an appearance.

She slid into the booth next to Santana dropping her own bag of food on the table. She greeted me distractedly and hugged Santana who seemed surprised, if not a bit pleased, with the gesture. Brittany explained that she'd been shopping with her friends when they lost her. Santana seemed amused by that, I only found myself upset with the girl's presence; she was nice and very easy-going but whenever she was around I felt the same burning I felt when I saw Santana flirting with boys lately.

"What kind of dress are you wearing? Mines going to be something bright that I can dance in so maybe it will be short so I can dance. I'm pretty Lord Tubbington won't like anything like that though so I'll have to hide it; he can get very naggy."

"I'm just wearing Jeans," Santana shrugged.

"What?" The blonde looked to me for some sort of confirmation.

"I keep begging her to get a dress but she refuses," I sighed.

The blonde gaped, "You have to wear a dress and do your hair and make up to look extra pretty, otherwise you might as well just take facebook pictures in your bathroom."

"I have to work and I can't do my job in a dress."

The dancer lit up as if she'd had a revelation, "You could wear a suit like the boys."

"That's not happening," she made a face but still laughed.

"Well if you're going to be my date…" I teased.

"You two are going together?" The blonde asked looking between us, excitement where I expected to see disappointment.

"Only if nobody asks," she shrugged. I wouldn't have been able to explain the dejection I felt when she said that.

"But you two would be so cute! And you could wear matching dresses or your suit could match her dress and-"

"So you're boyfriend's taking you to homecoming? I hope she's a gentleman," Quinn sneered as she stopped at our table.

"Looks like he'll give you a good time," Mercedes added.

"Guys," Brittany tried to calm them all.

"Like the good time I showed Puck or the good time I can show Finn? Oh, I forgot, I'm not the one he wants to show him a good time, right Rach?"

I could only stare wide-eyed between them.

The both looked ready to leap over the table when Brittany stood between us, "Let's just go. We can go look for our dresses."

"Alright Britt, I wouldn't want to break the hobbit and her guard-dog before we even go to see what garbage they wear to the dance," Mercedes tossed once more over her shoulder.

Santana would have gladly gone after her if I hadn't stood up in time to stop her, my hands on her waist as she glared over my shoulder, tense and ready to fight. I felt Mercedes and Quinn's glares bearing into me but didn't bother to look back. Aside from not feeling their eyes on us anymore, I could tell they were gone when Santana relaxed slightly.

"I think we've gotten everything we can do done for the day," I supplied, drawing her attention back down to me. "Maybe it would be best if we headed home."

Santana gladly carried my bags to the truck and loaded them up. We got into the truck and she took us home. Daddy and Aunt V wanted to gush over the dress while Uncle James and Dad worried that it was too revealing. Santana just kept to the background, giving me a knowing smirk that made me blush as I went to Aunt V and Daddy so they could discuss how I'd wear my hair. The rest of that weekend was relatively calmer.

That Monday Noah proudly dropped two red, black, and white tickets into Santana's hand. She asked him how much they cost and he only laughed before walking away. She gave them to me before we proceeded with our day as we normally would. We sat in on a couple of Mr. Schuester's Spanish classes. He seemed pleased to have her there, even mentioning how much he wished more of his students were like her. She took a couple of word searches with her when we went to the bleachers.

"I didn't know you spoke Spanish."

"Me llamo Lopez," she pointed out, not lifting her eyes from the paper on her lap.

"I know but that doesn't mean you speak Spanish. For all I know about you you could be some sort of reformed Colombian assassin with a questionable past."

"Numero uno," she mumbled, "I'm Puerto Rican. Numero dos," she shrugged, "My past isn't that questionable. Y numero tres," she finally looked up to me, a challenging smirk on her lips, "Can you really be a reformed assassin?"

My jaw dropped and I gaped at her.

"If I were Colombian, wouldn't I still speak Spanish?" She wondered.

"You aren't," I didn't even fight the urge to ask, "Are you?"

"Say it with me now," She encouraged, her words slowing as she teased, "Puer-to Ri-can."

"I meant an assassin," I glared at her.

"Aw, Rach," she started, and it almost made me feel guilty, "If I were do you really think I'd tell you?" Almost.

I gaped at her once more.

She was laughing too hard to actually continue working on her word search.

Schuester didn't really seem to have a lesson planned for this week; instead, apparently, the club would be performing at the dance. People were planning their performances and things. Sam had gotten Santana's attention and pulled her to the side. She kept her eyes flickering between me Quinn, Mercedes, and Finn, but other than that she did her best to focus on Sam. He seemed to be talking about a song, smiling brightly at her as he strummed an imaginary guitar. She nodded and continued talking with him. I watched curiously as she looked to be agreeing to perform a song with him. At some point, their conversation seemed to take an awkward turn. Sam slipped his hands into his pockets and his gestures became more like shrugs. Santana became more curious as well, looking him over inquisitively. He said something and she looked almost worried. When he looked up and saw her his face grew worried. She muttered out a nervous response and gestured to me anxiously. Sam looked up and caught me looking, blushing furiously before looking back down. He shrugged and muttered something to Santana before giving her an almost dismal smile and walking out of the room all together.

"What happened?" I asked as she came back to sit by me.

"He asked me to go to homecoming with him," she shrugged guiltily.

I was baffled as to why she'd seem guilty about that, "And?"

"He's just," she sighed, "He's really sweet and he seems like his looking for more than just a hook up."

"And you aren't."

"I don't do relationships, much less long distance," she shook her head.

"Why did he look at me?" I wondered curiously.

I saw something that might have been rarer than a genuine smile, Santana turned a furious shade of crimson, "I might have told Sam he should ask you instead."

I couldn't stop myself from hitting her shoulder, "Santana!" Everyone looked to us for a moment before they went back to their discussions. "Why would you tell him that?"

"Because you're like a nice person too, and I felt bad for turning him down. Besides, you don't want to go to the dance with me, that's depressing."

"I didn't mind," I sighed, "I don't need a date Santana. I really am just happy to go with you, and maybe you should invite Sam to join us as friends, if it will make your feel better."

"That might be a good idea since I think he still wants to do the song," she nodded.

I nodded in approval.

"Are you doing a song with anyone?" She wondered.

"I'm still thinking it over," I sighed.

"I'm sure you'll figure something out," she assured before pointing me towards Matt to see him nodding towards the door.

We followed Matt to the truck, saying goodbye to everyone as we continued discussing our song choices.

}{

It seemed as if the week of Homecoming everyone had better things to do than harass me and Santana. Quinn and Mercedes were running for homecoming court and that took a lot of their time as well as extra practices for the cheerios half-time performance. The football team was pretty busy too. I only saw Matt and the other boys during glee practices and classes. Matt was usually too tired to hang out after school. Sam came over a couple of times to practice with Santana and the adults were pretty interested. Aunt V, Daddy, and Uncle James were excited to hear the song. Santana was much less shy about sitting in the living room and singing the more upbeat That's it, I quit, I'm moving on. Sam even got over his nerves of being with Santana for it, at least while they were performing.

"That was wonderful!" Daddy cheered as the pair finished.

"Thank you Mr. Berry," Sam smiled.

Aunt V nudged me slightly and whispered conspiratorially, "They make a cute couple, don't they?"

"I wouldn't tell Santana that," I laughed slightly.

"You two are wonderful," she looked back to them, "Have you two considered matching?"

"I'm not really getting dressed up," Santana shrugged.

"What? How can you not get dressed up for this?" The woman demanded.

Santana gave the same shrug she'd adopted for every time someone asked about her outfit, "I'm supposed to be watching Rachel. If she gets in trouble I have to be able to take care of her."

"That's very professional of you but couldn't you take one night off?" The woman wondered.

"Any other night, but a night of teenagers grinding on each other on a dance-floor, spiking drinks, and competing for a cheap plastic crown? I sort of need to be in running shoes."

The woman's features were crestfallen, "And you helped Rachel pick out such a pretty dress. You four could have matched."

"White t-shirt," Santana offered with a shrug.

"I'll figure something out for you," the woman promised, or maybe threatened before heading to the door, "It was nice seeing you Sam, I'm sorry Matt's not up to hang out but you know how it is. I'm shocked you're even up to this."

He smiled politely, "I'll be alright with the girls ma'am."

"Boys," Aunt V called Daddy and Uncle James out of the room, "Leave the kids alone."

They followed although they kept their eyes on Sam as they did.

"You two really will be wonderful," I assured them.

"Thanks," Sam repeated. He looked to Santana curiously, "You never did explain what your job is that you follow her all day and can't get dressed up."

"Bodyguard," she shrugged, "She needs a babysitter otherwise she gets herself in serious situations, or have you not noticed that."

I'd gotten too used to Santana's jabs when it came to our professional relationship and only rolled my eyes.

"I've noticed," he agreed.

"Sam," I decided to change the subject, "Are you sure you're alright with going to the dance with us?"

"Of course," he nodded, "Better with friends than by myself." He gave a small smile although I had to wonder if he really believed that.

"I suppose I could maybe buy a decent outfit," Santana rolled her eyes, "I could settle for a skirt or something."

"That's better than jeans," I pointed out.

"But I'm not matching," she declared.

"But the pictures," I couldn't stop myself from whining.

"Will look fine," I assured.

"I guess I should be going," Sam stood up, gripping his guitar.

"Get home safely Sam," I urged, standing up to hug him.

Santana didn't stand up as much as look up to him nervously and nod, "Yeah, see you later."

"Have a good night," he said politely before heading out.

"I don't think I've ever seen you shy," I mumbled amusedly as I walked past her.

"Not shy," she scowled. "I just feel bad."

"Didn't know you were capable," I teased.

"I'm not entirely a bitch," she mumbled as she followed me to the room.

"Not entirely," I agreed.

"Har har," she sneered.

"Will you really were something nice?" I turned to look at her hopefully when we were in the room.

"I'm not wearing a goddamn gown," she clarified, "But yes, I'll try to find something better than jeans."

"I can't wait to help you find something," I clapped.

"Don't make me regret this."

}{

Santana regretted letting me help her, especially the night of the dance. She was in her black a-line skirt and white t-shirt, watching me fuss with her hair. I'd already blow dried mine and now I wanted to get hers falling over her shoulder perfectly. She fidgeted and scowled at everything I did. Her outfit was simple enough, the black coat and checkered scarf resting on her lap. She was mostly just waiting on me to finish. Finally, I got it perfect, it had plenty of body but it was still controlled while showing off her gorgeous waves. Aunt V had done both our makeup, going the same natural route with Santana as Cosette had. My make up was a bit darker, a muted red on my lips and a subtle blush adding color. My natural curls fell over my shoulders playfully.

"You two look amazing," Aunt V gushed.

"Thank you Aunt V, I really couldn't have done so well without either you or Santana assisting me," I admired myself in the mirror before looking back to Santana.

"Thanks," she shrugged, not bothering to look in the mirror; instead she looked at me reproachfully.

I rolled my eyes and gave a small smile, "I mean I look amazing in this dress."

"Sam's going to be here soon, right?" The older woman asked curiously.

"Mhum," I hummed as I fingered a couple of curls that fell over my shoulder.

She nodded before touching Santana's shoulder lightly, "I'm going to steal your other date away for a moment then."

I kind of wanted to know what happened when she led Santana up the stairs. I waited for her downstairs, with Matt. It felt like forever but when I checked my phone it was really only about ten minutes. By the time Sam was at the door, looking handsome in his suit and bolo tie. Matt let him in just in time to see Santana coming down the stairs, her jacket on and her scarf wrapped around her neck. A small smile I'd never seen on her face before glowing comfortably. As soon as she saw us it became something entirely different, but I could still spot a glimpse of that smile.

"Hey Sam," she greeted the boy, "Give me a minute."

"Alright," he nodded.

She grabbed my hand gently and drew me to the hall as she pulled a package I hadn't noticed from behind her back. I looked at it curiously, my eyes widening as I saw the deep red corsage inside. "I figured you'd need some sort of color." She slipped it onto my wrist gently.

"Santana, it's gorgeous," I brought the flower up to take in the scent and brush my fingertips over it gently.

"I thought you'd like something sappy like that," she teased, but I still saw her smiling.

"Alright girls," Aunt V called, "Don't keep this poor boy waiting all night."

"Come on," I waved her on, leading her out to the living room again.

Aunt V pulled me into a tight hug, although she was careful of my hair, "Have a good night Sweetheart, have fun, and don't get into too much trouble."

She let go of me to give Santana a hug as well. She mumbled her own message to the girl as well before pulling back and holding her chin gently. They shared a glance that I couldn't quite understand before she let her go.

"Wait! Hold on! Don't leave yet!" Daddy called as he, Dad, and Uncles James came into the living room, phones in hand.

"Where's Matt's date?" Dad wondered.

"I'm meeting her there," He explained.

Aunt V was in the middle of gushing over the boys when the men came in, cameras flashing.

"Viv, let us get some of the kids," Uncle James teased.

She rolled her eyes but finished straightening everyone's collars and fixing hair, "There you go."

We got plenty of individual shots and huddled photos. Eventually they let us go and we drove to the school. Sam and Matt were perfect gentlemen all the way inside. Matt went off to find his date and promised to check on us. We danced for a while and had a good time, getting our pictures out of the way. I took a couple with Santana, blushing and smiling at the camera as she held her arms around my waist playfully. We also took a couple with Sam. We watched the club members take turns going up to sing. Noah, Matt, and Artie managed to do a decent cover of Friday, Mercedes did a tasteful although somewhat off cover of Dancing Queen, and Brittany and Quinn did Me Against the Music. Artie did an interesting solo, Isn't She Lovely, while Santana explained to me that he and Brittany had broken up before we'd gotten there. Santana urged me up onto the stage when it was my turn. She'd been around for the practices with the band. Everyone seemed to like my cover of Go Your Own Way. Finally, I got to see her perform. It was almost more exciting than actually performing myself. She and Sam were amazing. I waited by the edge of the stage for them, enjoying the whole song before throwing myself at her in a hug.

"I'm guessing you're having a good night," she pointed out.

"Absolutely," I beamed, pulling away slightly, "Thank you so much for bringing me."

"It's never a problem Rach," she assured.

"Hey, Rachel, do you want to dance?" Sam asked, letting himself be happy rather than dwelling on his past displeasure.

"Of course," I nodded and took his hand before looking to Santana.

She smiled and waved me on.

"So, are you two dating?" Sam asked frankly.

I gaped at him slightly as we danced to the slow song Mercedes was singing, "No. What would give you that impression?"

"Sorry," he blushed and shrugged, "I mean, I know she's your bodyguard, but whenever she'd hit on me or Puck you stared at her like you wanted to drag her out of the room."

"I do not," I said defensively, although I could feel myself flushing.

"And that could explain why she'd turn me down," he supplied.

"She's not exactly the relationship type," I explained to him, "And I guess she thought that's what you were looking for."

He nodded understandingly.

We continued dancing a little while longer. It was different with Sam than it was with Cosette and Santana. Understandably, the environments were different. His hands fell carefully on my waist while mine went loosely around his neck. There was space for at least another person between us. I found myself looking for Santana in the crowd, every so often, catching a glimpse of her talking to someone before she caught me watching and smiled. I actually began thinking about what Sam had said. The way he described it, the disdain I'd been feeling for people I'd otherwise got along with sounded somewhat like envy.

"Shouldn't you be keeping a closer eye on your boyfriend?" A smug voice came from behind us.

"Mercedes, can't you just chill for one night?" Sam asked, moving between us slightly.

"No," she shrugged, "I don't think I can. I mean, it's bad enough she's got you on her arm, but she can't keep her dude on a short enough leash that she won't fuck with everyone else's man."

"Stop calling Santana that," I almost shouted, growing fed up with their harassment. "It's not my fault or hers that Puck isn't interested in you."

"Oh hell no," she moved forward but Sam was between us.

"M, calm down," Quinn called, obviously amused, "She's not worth it. Can't you see it? She's got eyes for anyone who'll pay attention to her, because the one person she wants whores around with everyone else."

"What are you-"

She showed that overly sweet smile, "Oh sweetie, trust me, I didn't see it at first either but I caught on quickly enough. It just burns you up when she looks at Brittany doesn't it?"

"What?" I looked around anxiously, hoping to see the girl.

"How about when she's with Puck?" The blonde went on. "Because trust me, Puck showed her a good time."

"Quinn," Sam warned.

"How about you Sam? I know I saw her on your lap," Quinn challenged. "Face it," the blonde's angry gaze dropped back to me, "She's a whore, just not for you."

"Don't call her-"

"Or what? You'll tell on me? Go ahead, go tell your little slut that I was mean to you," she urged pointing me towards Santana. I couldn't fight the gasp that escaped my lips when I saw her; Finn leaned over her while she gripped his shirt. That feeling of envy Sam had explained, it reared up, fueled by a rage I didn't recognize.

"Rachel," Sam called as I left the small circle that had gained plenty of attention.

"Santana," I called, drawing her attention from the boy.

He stumbled back from her slightly as she turned around, her eyebrows knit together in frustration, "What's wrong?"

"What are you doing?" I demanded, a bit surprised by the spite in my voice.

"I was talking to Finn but he-"

I shook my head furiously, "Stop Santana. Just stop. You were doing what you're always doing. You were just trying to hook up when you're supposed to be with me."

"I was watching while you were dancing with Sam," she tried to explain, but her annoyance was replaced by confusion.

"Santana," Finn whined behind her, drawing out her name unnecessarily.

"No Santana," I glowered, watching as the boy came up to her and grabbed her hand, "You were just being a-a-a whore!" The word just came to my mind. I regretted it as soon as I said it. Her face only dropped for a second before her annoyance came back. She pulled her hand back from Finn and I was certain she was going to hit me as she came forward. Instead she shoved me roughly to the side, just for me to watch as, almost in slow motion, four different colors of slushy.

The dance stopped then, everyone fell silent, even Brittany and Tina onstage. Before anything else could start Sam was leading us both outside. He tried to help Santana as she pulled her coat and sweater off and tried to wipe away the slushy that stained her shirt. He even offered her his coat but she wouldn't take it. She just sat in the back of the truck shivering as the shirt that had started off white turned into a nasty brown color. I leaned against the truck with Sam's offered jacket over my shoulders, trying to make myself look up and apologize to Santana but I couldn't. I couldn't get myself to look higher than the melding colors on her shirt. It only took a few minutes but Matt ran out quickly, looking flustered as he saw us. He apologized for not checking in and for the night being ruined. I didn't even bother to correct him.

Sam refused to be dropped off first. He wanted to make sure Santana was alright. She came down, dressed in a tank top and her exercise shorts and promised she was fine. She had to tell both boys that she'd gone through worse before just to get Sam to go home, on the condition that she text if she needed anything, and Matt to go to bed. She ignored me. I followed her into the room, hoping I'd get the chance to apologize, but as I saw her taking a blanket and pillow back out to the living room I panicked.

"Santana," I started, my voice week compared to the anger that had been there before.

She didn't stop walking.

"I'm so sorry about what I said. I didn't mean it. I swear I was just angry and Quinn had been-"

She turned on her heel, disdain covering something that looked oddly like pain, "Stop, Rachel."

"But-"

"I said stop," her voice was stern; "I don't need you apologizing to me. I fucked up."

"No you didn't, you just wanted to have fun at the dance like eve-"

"No I fucked up when I let this," she waved between us, "Get personal; when I thought we were friends. We aren't. I work for you. You pay me to do a job, and I should have done a better one tonight. So, unless you're going to fire me, then I don't think you have anything more to say to me tonight." She was going to turn back when a cruel smirk, one that sent a chill down my spine and almost made me want to cry tugged at her lips, "Unless you want to call me a whore again, because if anybody should be honest with me, it's my boss, right?"

I could only stare at her with my eyes beginning to water. She didn't seem to care as she walked to the couch. She dropped her pillow and blanket on it before turning off the lights. I stood there for a few moments, I don't even know why, maybe hoping she'd find some reason to forgive me, or I'd think up one. It didn't happen though, instead, I slumped off to the cold bed in the room I was supposed to be sharing.