Okay, if anybody wants to PM me to talk about Glee 100 or just any old Glee episode please PM me. I warn you though; I'm one of those horrible, detestable fans who pretty much ship everyone with everyone, just some more than others.
Also, Kitty is the only one who is aware that Quinn is an angel at McKinley.
Recap: With prodding from old, dead ex James Fabray, Quinn finally decides to take a chance on Santana and their chemistry and relationship. After asking Sam and Mercedes for dating advice, our intrepid angel picks Santana up and takes her to an amusement park where they ride rollercoasters and Quinn and the Glee club serenade Santana with "Just the Way You Are."
For the next couple of chapters, we'll be going by months
Month 1
Santana stares intently at the computer screen playing another episode of Doctor Who. "Don't blink!" She yells at the screen.
The historical inaccuracy is ridiculous and most other alien species are a lot friendlier and have a healthy, codependent relationship with earth in the future, but it's still a fantastic television show. I got wrapped up in the horrible graphics and bad history lessons.
A teasing smile appears on my face. She is so adorable. She gets so wrapped in things. "And you thought Doctor Who would be horrible," I retort. I've been trying to get her to watch Doctor Who for a while, but she claimed it was only for nerds and losers. Eventually, I coerced her into watching it after promising her a kiss, which quickly turned into something more than just a simple peck on the lips.
"Hush Quinn," she replies. Her hand begins groping my face, grabbing my shoulder, ear, and eye before reaching my mouth to cover it and sufficiently shush me. I laugh lightly, removing her hand from my mouth as the two of us cuddle on my couch.
When Santana and I first began dating, properly dating, I had no idea what to expect. All of my experience was from centuries ago, literally. And that ended with me wiping his memories and him moving on to another girl. Of course throughout my many years I've experienced other kinds of love and witnessed every sort of love under the sun, from the beautiful to the disturbing. But in the art of romancing, I was very rusty. I'm not even sure I could be rusty at something I was not rusty at to begin with.
For our second date Santana took me out to breadsticks. It was really nice and we held hands, underneath a napkin so this one couple across from the table would stop glaring at us. We ordered pasta, had an unlimited amount of breadsticks, and talked. We talked about the mundane things like which song to do next week in Glee and whether Harry Potter or the Hunger Games was better. And we sunk our teeth into the heavy conversations. Was I comfortable with coming out? Where exactly is this relationship leading?
Ultimately, I promised I'd be absolutely comfortable coming out whenever and we decided that we were just going to be calm and comfortable and take time with whatever we are. We would let it evolve on its own time and find out what we are and where this is leading when it happens. I want to tell her that I want this to last forever. I want this relationship to lead to forever, but I don't want to scare her away. And especially because of our specific circumstances, we may not be able to. I don't want to let her down. The night ended with us paying for the bill, which she admits was one of the first times she'd ever actually done that on a date, and a chaste kiss goodnight by her door.
We've been on a couple dates since then, each better than the last.
I stare down at her, leaning into my side cuddling as we watch Netflix, and it all seems so surreal. Like I'm going to wake up any minute and this will all have been a dream. I'll go back to when Santana and I were just friends and it'll stay that way in reality. Or even worse, I'll wake up and Santana might not even exist. My blood turns frigid at the thought. I physically shiver. What if it is all just a dream?
Santana lifts her head from my chest, turning to look at me. "Hey," she says softly, her hand moving to pause the show. "Are you okay?" She looks at me, worry written throughout her beautiful, tanned skin. "Are you cold?" Santana lifts the laptop from her lap, getting up and walking across the room to the big fuzzy blanket on the chair opposite us. Wearing her bright red and white Cheerio's uniform, she struts back to the couch, flopping down and throwing the blanket over the both of us. "Is that better?"
And that's how I know it's real. The feeling of her soft, tan legs intertwining with mine and her familiar, sexy voice is enough to ground me. This is real. She is real. We are real.
"Yes," I say with a sort of surprised smile on my face. Out of everything in the world, she's the one that keeps me sane. She's the one that lets me know that this is not just my imagination run wild. Then, a sneaking thought crawls into my mind, am I her angel or is she mine.
"Good," she says, smiling with her expressive brown eyes. She leans in and kisses me quickly on the mouth before settling back in next to me and pressing play on the computer.
So we sit there for a couple minutes, lost in the realm of Doctor Who, but always ever so slightly aware that the other is still there.
Ding-Dong! The sound of my doorbell rings.
"I'll get it," I say. I groan as I wedge myself from underneath Santana and make my way to the door.
I swing open my door without looking; already knowing it's the pizza guy we called fifteen minutes ago. "Hey there, one large cheese pizza with bacon bits?" The guy says.
"Thanks," my eyes flash down to his nametag, "Jeff," I reply, handing him the twenty-dollar bill. We exchange food for money and I go to set it down on the table.
Jeff, instead of closing the door and leaving, decides to lean forward and try to take a look inside my house, his feet still staying stationary and outside my door. "That seems like a lot of pizza for one person," he notes. "I could always, y'know, help you with that."
I turn around with a polite smile, "Thanks, but I'm actually not alone."
"Oh," he says knowingly. "Boyfriend?"
"No." I begin to grab some plates for Santana and I.
"Girls night?"
"I suppose."
He stands awkwardly outside the door, not saying anything for a couple of seconds. "So… do you have a boyfriend?"
"No," I respond, not giving his question a second thought. I'm sure it was only an innocent question.
"In that case, do you maybe want to go out with me sometime?" he asks nervously. For the first time, I finally stop and take a look at him. Lanky guy. He's no body builder, but he's thin and attractive in that gawky sense. He has long brown hair, hazel eyes, and a sweet smile.
"I'm sorry, but I'm already in a rather committed relationship," I say, trying to break it to him gently. Asking someone out takes a lot of courage, and I respect that.
He looks, puzzled. "But I thought you said you didn't have a boyfriend?" he repeats, trying to make sense of things.
"She doesn't," a fierce, territorial voice cuts in. Santana, a fire in her eyes, walks quickly to the poor pizza guy, hips swaying back and forth as she does. She is walking fear and seduction, enough to make any guy intimidated. "But she has a girlfriend," she hisses, only inches from his face. She lifts her pointer finger and pushes it against his chest, successfully throwing him off balance so that he trips over his own feet. "So leave." Poor Jeff runs away faster than Finn ran after Rachel that day he pissed her off saying he wasn't terribly religious.
Santana turns back to me as I put two slices of pizza on both of our plates. "Ugh, what a complete asshole."
"Come on Santana, he didn't know," I argue for his sake.
"Whatever. Nobody takes what's mine," she replies flippantly, grabbing her plate and casually digging through my fridge looking for a drink.
"So… I'm your girlfriend?" I ask, daring to label our relationship.
She freezes, mid grab for the orange juice. "Um…" I can hear her jumbled thoughts running a mile a minute as she searches for good answers to that question. "Well I mean," she stumbles over her words."
"Santana," I cut in. "It's okay." I walk over to her and gently grab her arm, turning her towards me. "I really want to be your girlfriend." She smiles, her thoughts calming down so that I don't just automatically hear them. "But only if you'll be my girlfriend."
She leans towards me, mouth against my ear as she whispers, "Hells yeah." After a long, languid kiss we finally separate, grab our pizza, and head back to the couch.
"Does this… make us official?" I ask tentatively.
"Yes. Privately," Santana responds as we settle back into the couch, both on our respective sides in order to eat more easily.
"And publicly?"
"Only if that's what you want."
I pause for a moment. So far our entire relationship has been under the radar, which might be why I'm getting away with it. Nobody in heaven really knows about it yet, as far as I know. The moment we come out with it, the bigger it gets and the more attention it draws. Not to mention Kitty is here, which automatically means she can go up and whisper it in somebody's ear to hear. Suddenly, I'll have my wings stripped and I'll become another somber fallen angel, never fully whole again. I'll be lost, without a path or a future. No happiness ever to enter my life again. It's the curse of betraying God, something I just barely got away with last time.
But I'm sick of hiding. And I know Santana is too. She finally came out of the closet, and I feel like I'm holding her back by staying in. So with a deep breath and many, many hours of thought previously on this subject, I respond. "I want."
"Really?" Santana tries to contain her excitement, but does a rather horrible job. "Are you sure?" It's a really big step. And I know that your religion is really important to you and—"
"I'm positive," I say affirmatively. "But there's someone I want to tell first, gauge their reaction and make sure they know from me and not the grapevine."
Santana's eyebrows furrow. "Who?"
"Kitty."
"Absolutely babe, whatever you need."
**143**
The gentle hum of business in the café does nothing to calm me as I nervously wait for Marley/Kitty to open the door. I can't get my leg from bouncing up and down against the floor. I take another sip of tea, hoping the herbs relax me. They don't. The jangle of the bell makes my head shoot up and a whole new wave of nerves crashes down on me. I begin to wonder if this was really the best idea.
Marley/Kitty walks in wearing a long-sleeved baseball tee for one of the minor league Ohio teams and a pair of form fitting jeans. Being the old-fashioned angel I am, I never really caught onto pants. I didn't really like them. I've always preferred a cute dress.
Marley is one of the later angels. There were some like Michael who were around from the beginning of time and those like me who came in soon after. And then there's Marley. She's one of the honorary angels. Either made when one angel fell or became one when she died. Very few ever become angels after death, but there are the special few who are chosen. It's a hard life and a lot turn it down, but some, like Marley, don't.
I wonder if because of this Marley will be more or less accepting of what I'm about to tell her. Marley has always been on my side, even through James. But she's also very by the books. She's still considered a newbie, meaning she's still trying to prove herself. Before, when I dated James, she was still young and sympathized with me because she had been in love with a guy named Jake when she died. Now, she's had time to separate from her previously more human emotions and mature out of that.
"Hey Luce," she says, squeezing me into a tight hug before letting go and taking a seat opposite of me.
"Hey Marley. I got your favorite, hot chocolate," I say, motioning to the other coffee cup in front of her.
She looks at the coffee almost greedily before taking a sip and basking in the delicious taste. "Thanks Luce. So, what did you call me here for?"
"I wanted to talk to you about something," I start off.
"I sort of figured," she cuts in with a wink. When did she get so sassy?
And so I told her. At first I was nervous, stumbling and stuttering over my words, but then the words just flowed out of my mouth. I told her everything. I told her how I'd never felt something like this so strongly before. I told her how I tried to resist, so desperately, but I couldn't. There was something magnetizing about her, something irresistible. Something more powerful than even the heavens could control. And I told her how this was different with Santana. I wanted forever with Santana. I loved Santana. And I wanted Marley's acceptance.
Marley just sat there for a few minutes, staring at me with a thousand emotions rolling through her as she debated what to answer. She had tried to cut in a few times when I first began speaking to berate me, but eventually she stopped. I don't know if it's because I wasn't going to let her finish speaking until I had said my piece or because I'd maybe started to change her mind. I really hope it was the latter.
Marley takes a deep breath in and out before finally speaking. "I don't support this relationship." And that's when I feel all my hopes fall. I had taken a chance telling Marley. I took a leap of faith, something I'd been taking a lot of recently. And this time it didn't pay off. "But I've got your back and I won't tell anyone," her eyes look up, "up there." A flow of relief spreads through me, but disappointment still sticks around. "You've always been a little different, L. You've always felt more than any other angel I've met, always been a little more empathetic. I'll help you keep this on the DL and I'll accept your relationship, but I won't support it." And just like that she walks out of the coffee shop.
I know I should be grateful. And I am. I'm grateful she won't tell anyone who could break Santana and I apart and I'm glad she'll accept my relationship with Santana, but sadness lingers. She won't accept us. She won't accept me. And it hurts. I don't just want to be accepted. I want to be supported. So I take another sip of my herbal tea. At least I know the tea doesn't have any emotions. It can't support or refute how I feel.
**143**
"Prepare for madness," Santana murmurs in my ear as we walk into school hand-in-hand. "Now that we're online official," she refers to the Facebook status' we changed last night to say in a relationship, "People will be staring."
As we walk through the parking lot I already see it happening. A couple of the 'Stoners' look up and simply stare at us. One even has a little something growing in his pants. A couple of jocks stare at us with pointed glares. The 'nerds' look up at us from their tightly knit circle as they go over last night's homework answers with each other outside on the blacktop.
"Why do so many people care that we're together?" I whisper into her ear. It's a bit unnerving, all the eyes staring us down.
"Because this is Lima, Ohio. Nothing ever happens here. So when something does happen, everybody knows and everybody cares." Distaste spices her voice. "Just ignore everyone else. It's just you and me."
I suppose it's just human curiosity. A couple of their thoughts shoot out at me. 'Damn that's hot,' I hear one of the football players, Bobby, think. 'That's disgusting,' I hear one of the more reserved, Christian girls think behind her large glasses with a look of disdain and scorn on her face. 'I wonder how they do that shit without a, like, dick' thinks Greg, one of the slackers doing weed during most of his classes. 'They're adorable,' I hear from one of the school's patented fashionistas, Jane.
And then I feel the squeeze of Santana's hand. It's odd, getting so lost in other people's thoughts you sort of lose your own in the blur of everyone else's. It's a dangerous game to play. Snapping back to reality I look ahead and see exactly why Santana's hand is squeezing mine a little bit tighter, not because she's scared or nervous but because she doesn't want me to be.
The focus of both our attention stands up expectantly, clutching her pink unicorn notebook with swirls, hearts, doodles, and 'Mrs. Brittany Lopez's' on the cover. She doesn't come any closer; she waits for us to inevitably approach her. There is only one entrance into WHMS after all, and she's standing in front of it.
"Santana," Brittany cries out weakly. She takes a step closer to us as we pass by.
Knowing that even if we kept walking, we'd only be avoiding the moment, Santana stops in front of Brittany. "Hey Brittany," she says, a bittersweet smile lacing her face.
"Santana, I am so sorry," Brittany begins. Her hands are clasped together in a prayer style. "And I know that I don't deserve a second chance, hell I didn't even deserve a first chance with you, but you gave me one." No matter how twisted and no matter how misguided. I know what I see when I look at her: pure, unaltered love. "And it was the greatest thing that ever happened to me. And I think it was one of the greatest things to ever happen to you too. And this," she motions between the two of them, "this chemistry can't be recreated. Can you find it in your heart to give me a second chance?"
Santana's hand squeezes mine, but in a way representing strength. Strength in what we have. "You're right, Brittany." A hopeful look enters Brittany's eye, but she knows she's only won half the battle. "I can't recreate the chemistry we had and still have and you were one of the greatest things to ever happen to me." A tick of fear begins to count as my fear increases. Will Santana leave me? Was I just a game to her? A way to get back to Brittany? But then I feel the warm pulse of her hand against mine. The way we grip each other like we can't let go. The way our hands fit together so perfectly. And I know that there's no need to panic. "But then Quinn came along. And she became the greatest thing to ever happen to me. And Quinn and I have our own chemistry, one that surpasses what you and I ever had."
"But I love you," she cries out desperately.
"But I don't love you anymore," Santana responds with a shrug of her shoulders and a pitying look. "Not like that."
The hope in Brittany's bright baby blues was quickly eaten up by a blazing hot red anger. "Santana," her voice commands roughly. "We are meant to be." She stares into Santana's eyes, as if she could drill straight to her core. I'd never seen Brittany quite as serious. "I love you. I will always love you. Quinn is just a phase, a new trend for the season. And when she goes out of style I'll be waiting for you to come back to me. Always. Because I am yours just as you are mine."
Santana opens her mouth to say something, but I beat her to the punch. "She is not yours," I defend with derision. "She is not some piece property you have all domination over. She is a human being. And she isn't anybody's." Santana grins at me.
"Stay out of this," Brittany says, throwing my comment off to the side.
"No! Quinn is right. And we're not in a relationship, so out of everyone here you need to stay out of this," she says, pointing between her and me. And the two of us walk away, Brittany still screaming in protest.
"First time I come out in public and this happens," I remark jokingly. "Definitely one of the worst coming out stories ever." I laugh.
**143**
"Ugh, who needs history anyways," Santana complains, sliding her book along the world. She turns on her side, going from belly to back as she lies on the carpet.
"History is important."
"History is the least important subject we learn. Science explains life, English teaches a language and a way to communicate and think creatively, math is math, and a foreign language is… like English. History does nothing." She throws her hands on top of her face, moaning through them.
"History is super important," I counter. "It teaches us things of the past, what worked and what didn't. It studies human nature throughout the years and it documents what got us here. You know that old saying, forgive and forget?"
"Yeah," Santana responds, still a little peeved at history and the fact that I'm arguing for it when she clearly wants me to side with her.
"Forgive, but never forget." Her face reappears from behind her hands and I see a very pointed glare aimed at me. I sigh and roll my eyes. "What do you need help with?"
She reaches for the book she slid across the floor a few seconds ago. "All of it," she says, throwing it at my feet from the desk I'm sitting at.
"Then I'll help." I get down from my chair, grab the book, and join Santana on the floor.
"What chapter are you in?"
"14," she grunts back. I flip through until I reach the chapter 14 test that all the books have to cover material easily for students.
"We're going to make this fun."
Santana scoffs. "History and fun?"
"Each one you answer correctly, you get an treat." At the word treat Santana sits up. "And each time you miss one you get an award taken away." I state.
"Who was the first emperor of Rome to actually march on Rome itself?"
"Ugh I don't know," Santana sighed, falling back onto the floor in a huff.
"Are you going to take that as a miss?"
"No," she whined. With a sigh, she mustered up the answer she'd known all along, "I don't know… Sulla?"
"Ding! Ding! Ding!"
"Now where's my reward?" she asked, arms crossed.
I lean down over her and move some hair away from her neck, placing a light and gentle kiss on her pulse point. Santana's eyes fly open as a sly smile spreads across her face. "Right there."
"Okay, definitely liking this game," she says, popping up.
"Which Roman Emperor awarded soldiers after twenty years with their own plot of land?"
"Marius!"
"Fantastic," I whisper in her ear, purposely bringing my voice down an octave. I tenderly nibble on her ear for a moment. Her head falls backwards as her jaw opens wide in awe. I note in my mind that ears are her weak spot.
"What did this mean for the armies?"
"Um… I don't know," she said, her eyes still glazed over with desire.
"It meant that their armies were no longer loyal to the Republic, but its leader, which is why Sulla could easily march on Rome. Next question, "Who made up the first triumvirate?"
"Pompey, Caesar, and Crassus!" Santana spills out eagerly.
"Correct. Next question—"
"Hey wait, where's my kiss?" She complains.
"When you get a question wrong the next time you get a question right, I don't kiss you."
"What? That's unfair!" She argues back.
"Too bad," I tease. "You're not in charge of the game. Now answer the next question. Did Cicero believe in bettering society for the aristocrats or for the people?"
"The people," Santana replies with a cocky shrug of her shoulders.
"Yupp." I give the 'p' an extra pop. I lean in and kiss her nose. "Who was the second emperor to March on Rome?"
"Caesar?" I grab her hand from the ground and give her palm.
"Who was Caesar's successor?"
"Um… August?"
"Augustus," I correct.
"Did I still get it correct?"
"Nope."
"What?" she argues. "I said August!"
"That's not his name. That's the month he named after himself."
"It was close enough."
"But not for a test," I reply.
"I still think I deserve my reward," she argues. I shake my head no with a teasing smile. Her chocolate brown eyes fill with clouds of mischief, "What if I just steal my reward from you?"
I look at her, amused by her suggestion. "Against the rules." Santana looks at me for a moment before giving me the wickedest smile I've ever seen. In a flash, she pounces on top of me and rolls us both down onto the ground. She's hovering on top of me. One hand is on each side of my head and one leg is snug against my left leg and the other in between my thighs. Her loose, dark hair drapes around us like a curtain blocking out the rest of the world. I can feel my heartbeat quicken as I try to control my breaths.
"I've never been very good at following the rules," she whispers. And then her lips capture mine in a passionate kiss. My hands reach up to wrap around her neck and pull her closer. She does so gladly. After a minute or two, her tongue sneaks out and licks at my lips, asking for entrance. I couldn't say no, not that I wanted to anyways. Her tongue gently probed my mouth and we just explored each other. After another minute or so we broke off, the kiss coming to its natural conclusion.
"Maybe there should be less rules," I breathe out.
4,366 words. Show me the love. Send in those reviews. That's a lot of words. I guess this is what happens when I'm on March Break. Anyways, March Break will be ending soon so these awesome, longer chapters probably won't appear so much, but who knows. Technically, this wasn't supposed to be this long. This is just two chapters that accidentally worked better as one.
Has anybody seen the trailer for that new MTV show "Faking It?" I'm super excited.
Anybody want to talk shop (Glee) with me let me know. Or if you want to talk Doctor Who, Pretty Little Liars, OUAT, Secret Life of a Call Girl, Lost Girl, Criminal Minds, Scandal, or Grey's Anatomy.