A/N: Super late chapter, but alas, school has kept me very occupied as of late. I added a tiny bit of Puckleberry in this one for to lazy to sign in. As always, I welcome feedback, good or bad.
Blame It On The Alcohol
"Get the hell away from me Santana!" Quinn shouted, drunk beyond belief now. "I hate you so goddamn much. You totally screwed me over with Finn. Fuck you Santana. Fuck you!"
Santana had dragged Quinn up to the living room to talk, but neither girl was in any condition to do so really.
"I said I was sorry Q!" Santana cried out in return, equally hysterical. "I fucked up. I figured you were going to choose Finn anyway, you know? I thought I had everything totally figured out, that I'd found a way to get both of us what we wanted."
"Shut up!" the blonde shot back, her eyes livid, the room starting to spin a little. "Stop with that both of us business. You're a selfish bitch Santana! Even Brittany probably thinks that. Why else would she have chosen Artie over you?"
Hearing those words spill from her lips caused them both to freeze, acting to snap both of them out of their drunkenness (well, somewhat anyway). Santana stood there in silence, a hurt look in her eyes, teeth gnawing at her lower lip. Quinn noticed that she was shaking a little even and she knew she had crossed a line, no matter how hurt she was over the whole Finn thing.
"Oh God San," Quinn told her apologetically, stumbling over to her with her arms wide open. "I shouldn't have said that."
She wrapped them carelessly around the Latina and unable to hold both their weight, the two toppled onto the coach behind them. Quinn groaned at the contact, rolling over so that she was sitting beside her now.
"No, I deserved that," Santana admitted, breaking into soft sobs. "I am such a self-centered bitch. Everyone hates me Q. Even you and Brittany hate me now. I am such a fuck up."
Quinn giggled, finding slight satisfaction in her admission. Who said she was only the angry drunk?
"Yes, yes you are," the blonde agreed, eyebrow quirked as she added, "But aren't we all?"
Santana smiled at the sentiment, spluttering as a strand of her hair accidentally got into her mouth.
"I'm really sorry I messed things up with you and Cabbage Patch," she apologized, linking arms with the blonde. "I'll break up with Sam if it means us being friends again."
Quinn tried to sit up on the coach, but that only hurt her head, so she returned to her previous position, opting to turn her head to the side to face Santana instead.
"No, then we'll both lose, which means your conniving little plan would have been for nothing," she slurred, a lazy grin on her lips.
"Thanks Q," Santana hiccupped, glancing around the room for a goddamn drink. "I really like Sam you know. His froggy lips are a total turn on, much more of turn on than Cabbage Patch anyway. Why do you think I call him that?"
"Hey!" Quinn quipped, defending her…well, she really didn't know what she and Finn were anymore. "He has plenty of sex appeal. I want to do dirty, dirty things to him, you know."
"Oh God," Santana interrupted her, pressing a finger to her lips to shut her up. "I'm not drunk enough to hear this Q. Hold on."
She sat up, neck strained toward the kitchen.
"Puckerman! Stop making out with Berry for a moment and get Quinn and me a drink!"
Quinn covered her ears to soften the blow of her harsh voice. Her head was throbbing. She should never have allowed herself to get this drunk. Alcohol and her were a bad, bad mix.
"Jesus, San," Puck responded moments later, Quinn thankful that he had kept his voice at a comparatively lower volume. "Stop shouting. Here."
He handed two beers to them, Santana scrunching her nose up in disgust at his offer, wanting something stronger, and Quinn done with drinking for the night.
"I made the trip over here for nothing?" Puck spat, a little pissed, but he smiled again when he heard Rachel calling him back to the kitchen, a bout of giggles not far behind her plea. "Whatever."
Santana rolled her eyes, making an effort to get up from the couch and surprisingly succeeded.
"Asshole," she commented under her breath, dragging Quinn up from the couch with her. "We should probably head back downstairs."
"No!" the blonde shouted in panic, pulling away from her. "I can't go back down there! Watching you make out with Sam all the time is hard enough, but with him there too? It's just unbearable!"
Evidently, her words had set Quinn off again. Santana's heart dropped, really taking note of how sad her friend was for the first time.
"Oh shit," she commented, walking over to Quinn again who kept stepping back from her in response. "I'll get Finn back for you. I have a plan. I'm good with plans, even the non-selfish ones."
"It wouldn't matter," she answered, tears in her eyes. "Finn hates me. I broke his heart."
"Oh please, like Cabbage Patch could ever hate you," Santana corrected her, grabbing a hold of her wrist and dragging her to the front door. "I bet he has some shrine to you in his room that he worships every night. Is there a special place near here Q that the two of you share?"
Quinn frowned, her question ringing in her ears. Her mind immediately flashed to the park where they had danced after Burt and Carole's wedding. That was a special place she concluded and so, she nodded in response.
"Alright," Santana echoed, motioning for her to step outside. "I'll walk you there. We both need to sober up anyhow."
Once Santana had walked Quinn to the park and gotten her semi-sobered up, she returned to the party. Surveying the room, she found Finn sitting on the coach looking bored, waiting to drive everyone home.
"Finnocence," she greeted him, hands on her hips and a false smile on her lips. "Fancy seeing you here."
He rolled his eyes, not in the mood to entertain her tonight.
"Santana, leave me alone," he stated with fervor, getting up from the couch and making a move to walk past her.
"You don't have to be such an asshole Finn," Santana snapped at him, a little pissed with his attitude. "Quinn just ran out of here alone. You know, like by herself? Just thought you'd like to know."
"And why's that?" he clarified, his expression unreadable.
"Look, she's drunk as hell and I'm worried, ok?" Santana enlightened him, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "I tried to catch up with her, but she was too fast for me. I mean, what if she gets run over by some goddamn car or something? If you don't give a shit though, I'll just go and look for her myself."
Finn hesitated and as she had expected, he turned around again to face her, unmistakable worry in his eyes.
"You're sure?" he questioned, eyeing her warily. "This better not be another one of your sick games Santana because Quinn me-"
He managed to cut himself off before the rest of the words could roll off his tongue, but the Latina already knew what he was about to say.
"Means a heck of a lot to you even though you've been trying to act like you're over her after the whole you vs. Sam thing?" she finished for him knowingly, pointing over her shoulder at her drunk boyfriend for emphasis. "I know Cabbage Patch, but you might want to let Quinn know that because she's been crying a lot tears over you lately."
A wavering expression passed over his face upon hearing this new information and the more he thought about how much he must mean to Quinn too, the faster his heart beated, the shallower his breathing. Just as suddenly, however, he remembered how hurt he had been after she had come to see him that night, how much she had made him feel like another pawn in one of her many chess games.
Checkmate.
"You know what?" Finn started again, changing his tune. "You go ahead and look for her because this time, I'm not running after her. She was the one who broke my heart. She was the one who hurt me. I'm done."
"For fuck's sake Finn," Santana cried, slapping him on the arm, hoping that would wake him up. "Suck it up. Stop with all that broken hearts crap. We're in high school. We're young and stupid, some of us more than others…"
"Hey!" he interjected, looking very much offended, to which Santana quickly assured him, "I didn't say you Hudson. I was thinking it, but I didn't say it. Anyway, my point is that we're all trying to find ourselves, discover who we are or some cliché shit like that. We're going to get lost and probably hurt a few people on the way, break a few hearts, you know? But who hasn't gone through high school without a heartbreak or two, hmmm? I guess when you're in love with Quinn Fabray that number gets quadrupled or whatever, but she's damn worth it and you know that."
"Maybe I don't," Finn maintained, refusing to give Santana the satisfaction of being right.
The Latina remained silent, arms across her chest, lips pursed. She could read him like an open book. She started the countdown. In about five, four, three, two…
"But say I did know that," he murmured, avoiding her gaze. "Which direction was she headed in?"
Santana smirked. Right on cue Cabbage Patch.
"Well, she seemed to be heading home, but I called her mother a few minutes ago to check and she wasn't there," she informed him, finger to her lips in thought. "Maybe you should check the park near her house?"
"Thanks," Finn sounded before running up the stairs, cell phone to his ear, hoping to get a hold of Quinn.
Santana watched him leave before grabbing a fresh glass and pouring herself another drink. Oh yeah, never a dull moment.
Finn found her sitting on one of the swings, head resting against the cold metal chain, rocking back and forth every so slightly.
"Quinn," he called out as he ran over to her, obvious concern in his voice.
She raised her head upon hearing him say her name, unsure of whether or not she was hallucinating at the moment.
"Finn?" she clarified even though he was standing in front of her, clear as day. "What are you doing here?"
She stood up, stumbling forward, Finn catching her in his arms.
"I'm not exactly sure," he told her honestly, picking her up gently and heading over to one of the benches to set her down.
Santana, Quinn figured out.
When he sat down to join her, she snuggled up to him, her head resting in the crook of his neck.
"I'm sorry I broke your heart," she murmured, eyes getting a little droopy as her tiredness caught up with her. "You know, again."
He kissed the top of her head in response, but informed her, "I know you are, but I'm not ready to forgive you just yet."
His unexpected response caught her off guard and she sat up, suddenly alert, observing him.
After a moment of contemplation, she spoke.
"You need time," she stated simply and he nodded in confirmation, grabbing her hand and lacing his fingers through hers.
"Yeah, but I love you Q," he reminded her, giving her a small smile. "You know that right?"
"Uh huh," the blonde assured him, about to return the sentiment. "I lo-"
But she didn't get to finish her statement, the contents of her stomach drowning out her words.
Somehow Finn had managed to avoid getting any of her puke on him as he carried her home. He had been so hurried to find her that he had run all the way to the park, leaving his car behind in Rachel's driveway. He knew he would have to go back there soon and drive everyone home, but right now, all he wanted to do was to make sure that Quinn was safe at home, in her bed, sleeping off all the alcohol in her system.
Like the gentleman that he was, he helped her wash up and slip into her pajamas before tucking her into bed. Like the teenage boy that he was, he might have peeked.
"Thanks for taking care of me," she whispered as he pulled the covers up to her chin, a soft sigh escaping from her slightly parted lips.
She paused for a moment before she added, "Oh, and I love you too."
He smiled at her words, some inner voice coaxing him to lean in and kiss her. When she opened her eyes in slight surprise at the feel of his lips against hers, he realized what he was doing and took a step back.
"Oh gee," he muttered, running a hand through his hair as he fumbled toward the door. "I meant what I said at the park Q, about needing time. I shouldn't have kissed you. I…"
"Finn?" she interrupted his rambling, a sad smile on her lips, though he hardly noticed in his flustered state. "Forget the kiss. We'll just…blame it on the alcohol."
He nodded, saying a quick goodnight and closing the door tightly behind him before making a beeline for the front door. Only when he hit the pavement did he realize that her excuse was flawed. She might have been drunk, but he had been completely sober.