Continuation of Ch30 and Ch35 Chocolate Shop arc
Summary: Rachel and Finn's troubles come to a peak, and Santana finds herself dealing with a late night guest not just at her shop, but at her home
Pairing: Rachel/Santana (eventual endgame), some Present day Finn/Rachel
Content Warning: Domestic Violence
Rachel felt plenty tired as she stepped into her apartment, having had a long, arduous day at school, and having endured an exciting if exhausting premiere of her new play at the BAM. Had she the energy, Rachel would have stopped off at the chocolate shop for a bit of celebration and indulgence, but between the day's events and the audition she had set up for the next afternoon, she just wanted to go to bed and get some rest. Maybe snuggle up with Finn if he was in the mood, but those moments had been growing rarer as weeks passed, and since he hadn't made the time to be at her opening night, she was a little iffy on that, herself. Finn had been a little off lately, and Rachel was hoping that they could do something Sunday before her show to smooth things over and have a little private time together.
She slipped off her winter boots and put on her indoor flats, happy to start getting comfy and get out of her clunky boots; looking around, she could see Finn sitting on the living room couch, not having made a peep over her homecoming.
"Hey, honey. How's your night been?" Rachel asked cautiously, knowing Finn would usually greet her in the foyer if he was awake when she got in. That he was silent and seemed quite aware of her having come home, his eyes tracking her movements as she moved into the living room, only had her more on edge.
"Fine. Bad day tonight, Rach?" Finn responded, though his tone was oddly cool and distant as he clutched his lucky mug in his hands. He looked oddly anxious; Rachel had been used to him being on edge, and he certainly was tonight, but he hadn't shown anxiety in quite some time. Honestly, it had her worried.
Still, she figured her exhaustion could just be visible, and he could be responding to that. "It was actually a pretty wonderful day. I did well on one of my performances at school today, which was a relief, since I've been practicing hard for that. Then, tonight's premiere was perfect, and I'm pretty sure the journalist in the crowd will give us a good review. It was a tiring day, but a good one." She answered, pushing through her exhaustion to smile, truly happy about her day and wanting Finn to see it.
That Finn's expression barely shifted was concerning, though. "Come on, Rach. Let's be real, you're exhausted."
Rachel leaned up against the doorframe, allowing herself a shrug. "Of course, but I still had a good day. My work is physical, even when I headline Broadway, I'll come home exhausted some nights. That's alright."
"It's NOT alright! How much longer are you going to exhaust and excite yourself over nothing?" Finn asked, his brows furrowing in frustration, his words startling Rachel in the anger behind them and the message he was sending. Sure, Finn had been slightly critical, perhaps increasingly so, over the past months, but he'd never shot her down like this before.
Steeling herself for an argument that perhaps was long overdue, Rachel stepped into the living room, taking a deep breath to calm herself. Whenever she was upset, she'd speak fast, and Finn would never be able to keep up, and right now, she needed him to engage in this with her, because she needed to understand where he stood, and he needed to know where she stood as well. Her dreams were possible, and she'd never once given up on them, not before Finn, and not now.
"Nothing? I just had a show premiere tonight led by a man who is co-producing 'Wicked!' on Broadway. Two of my co-stars have had recent Broadway success, and the casting director who brought me in for this play invited me to an audition tomorrow for a project that might make it to Broadway late this year. Tonight was a culmination of years of work in gaining experience and contacts, Finn. That is NOT nothing." Rachel explained carefully and clearly, needing him to understand exactly what gains she'd been making over the past year, so that he could better understand how close she was to breaking out exactly when she'd planned to. "I will continue working and auditioning until it stops making sense, until there's nothing better out there."
Rachel watched Finn brace his hands on the edge of the couch, as if he were to stand up. Yet, he didn't, just staring hard at her in disbelief. "Are you serious right now? Rachel, stop making excuses. What's 'better' out there for you? You've been at this for years, and you're not there. Didn't, like, Thomas Edison say something about doing the same thing and getting the same result being insanity?"
Rachel's teeth ground together at the assertion that she was insane, and that she was making excuses. She'd just tried to explain what she was doing so that he could understand, and hadn't been ready for personal attacks. Not from him. "I would be very careful with your words, Finn. I might have interpreted that as you thinking I'm insane. But I'm not making excuses or mentally unstable, Finn, I'm simply putting in the work to get where I want to. People don't become doctors or lawyers overnight, football players go through college and practice squads before playing in the big leagues. Experience is very important in my career, so I've been getting it. I'm getting close to graduating, closer to Broadway, and I had a really big night, and I'd like for you to be happy for me." Rachel argued, fighting the urge to stomp her foot in protest to his unfounded statements.
"I've tried for years to be happy for you, I've tried to do things your way for years, but I can't anymore, Rach! It's time to grow up and get real lives, together…I know someone at your work keeps feeding you lies and crap, because some nights you come home and you always get really pushy and you argue a lot and it's not right, it's poisoning you! This place isn't right for us, this LIFE isn't right for us!" Finn argued, ambling to his feet, his lips twisting into a scowl as his face went redder with anger.
It was hard to keep track of Finn's vague rambling, Rachel having difficulty understanding what he might mean by 'real lives', how they'd been doing things her way, or his accusations of her hypothetical coworker. To her knowledge, they both had real lives, and to at least some degree they had both been working at their own dreams together instead of doing things her way. Occasionally they did argue or disagree at times when she got home, but Rachel didn't chalk it up to any particular person; sure, the chocolate shop owner would occasionally give her advice and perspective, but their minor spats wouldn't happen more on those nights than on others. At least, Rachel didn't think so.
"Finn, if you think our lives have been framed too much around my wants and needs, we can talk about that, but I won't have you being so hurtful about my work and my life! I'm a real person, Finn, and sometimes I won't agree with you about things, and that's natural. No one's whispering in my ear, I don't even know why you'd think that! All I want is for the both of us to be happy, to live our dreams, and we can accomplish that together if we work together and stay optimistic. If you're unhappy at work, we can find you something that will make you happier, that will be closer to your dream, Finn. I want you to be happy, but me abandoning my life wouldn't be growing up, it would be giving up. I won't do that." Rachel shot back, fists clenched at her sides as Finn walked around the table, stopping a foot or two away, his frame looming over hers, but Rachel had experienced it before. She knew he never meant to intimidate, so she just stared right up at him, waiting for whatever rebuttal he would think up. Given the sheer frustration marring his face, she had a feeling her words hadn't managed to bring him around to see her side of things.
"You keep talking about dreams, but those dreams aren't real. The reality is you're on an off-off-Broadway play making crap money, and I'm working construction making crap money. But we can have something better…I've had a dream of my own for a while, and I'm chasing it now, and it can happen. I know it can, and we're close…we could be so happy, for once." Finn almost pleaded, looking and sounding about as sincere as he ever had, and that had Rachel's full attention, even if she bristled at his dismissal of her happiness, hopes and dreams in favour of his own. She was more than willing to negotiate; they were a team.
"If you have a dream, Finn, then I'm all ears. Let me in, because all these years, you've always been vague about them, and I want to be here for you. I want to help you attain yours, just like I want to accomplish my own dream." She spoke in return, reaching out for his hand, a gesture he thankfully allowed her, Rachel squeezing it in a way that hopefully reassured him of her support. "I want us both to be happy, and while I am, I know you haven't been lately. I want you to be happy, Finn. So tell me, please…what's your dream?"
Finn clasped Rachel's hand around both of his, pulling her a little closer. "God, Rach, it's you. It's…it's me, and you, away from this fucking cesspool and back in New Jersey, living REAL lives, and building a REAL family together."
Rachel couldn't help but be conflicted. On one hand, Finn wanted to have a family with her, which was literally the first time he'd opened up about any concrete hopes for their future, about possibly having kids, or anything along those lines. On the other hand, he once again talked down at the city she'd fallen in love with, the life she was living and loving, and asserting their lives and relationship weren't real enough for him. It was dizzying to process, but she did what she could with the information she'd been given, hoping they could figure something out together and grow from there.
"And I think we could have that too, but we don't need to leave this city, Finn. My life is here. As…as troubling as it is that I'm essentially your dream…something I'll discuss with you later…I do feel that we can have a family, eventually. We can be happy together, and live real, fulfilling lives together here, if we just work harder and support each other. Me on Broadway, and you doing something you love…I remember you wanted to coach football, and I think we could make that happen. There are plenty of schools that could get you there. And I'm happy to support getting you the help you need to get where you need to be, Finn. Just let me help." Rachel pleaded in response, hoping that he would understand and agree, hoping that this anger at the city and at the dreams that had persisted in their lives wasn't too entrenched for him to hear her clearly.
For a moment she saw a flicker of hesitation, but then his brow furrowed, his hands squeezing much tighter around her own, almost painfully. "Don't be stupid, Rachel, this city is killing us! I don't need help, I need to take us away from this fucking hellhole, okay? Everything here is wrong!" He yelled, letting go of her now sore hand and pacing the space in front of her, his hands clenching as his anger seemed to be escalating. Rachel tried stepping to the side, away from the wall she was nearly pressed up against, but it only drew his focus back to her. "How can I be happy when I see you so fucking tired all the time? When you're barely home because school and work steal you from me, and your cast mates are always all over you, and kissing you, and it's WRONG! We can be a REAL family in Jamesburg, we can have REAL lives there. I already gave our sixty days notice to the landlord, and our bags are packed in our room, so we just need to grab them and we can finally go. My mom will take us in until we can find a place of our own, and then we…"
Rachel couldn't help but interrupt him, breaking the unwritten clause in their relationship agreement, because her head was swimming in words and details she hadn't been ready to hear, and it was quickly overwhelming her tired mind. There was too much to focus on, so she keyed in on a single detail that had sent a spark of fury through her. "You gave notice to our landlord? Without me?" Rachel grit out, drawing Finn closer, the goofy smile she once loved to see on his face now bringing sensations of nausea.
"I had to. Rachel, there's nothing here for us, nothing real. Face it, your way wasn't working and I had to take charge, so I did. I'm getting us out of this city tonight." She stated with a joyful tone that more than rubbed her the wrong way, because she'd tried to be polite and calm, she'd tried to play negotiator and really bring them a plan that met both their needs, but she would not tolerate him going behind her back on this, or disregarding her opinions and needs.
"No, Finn, there's nothing here for YOU, because YOU didn't try hard enough to find something that made you happy, and that's on you, not me! It's not my fault your dream crashed and burned, and I know you're upset, but I'm happy here and you can't just throw my life away because you're angry I have one and you don't!" Rachel yelled, trying her best to just keep from freaking out, but as her brain processed everything her boyfriend had said, it was getting much more difficult to not explode from the stress and conflicted storm of emotions.
Perhaps that was why she didn't see his hands in time, Finn's arms shooting forward, impacting against her body and launching her across the room. Rachel felt her side slam against an end-table, her foot catching on its leg in an attempt to balance herself, leaving her with a face full of the coffee-table.
The pain was intense, Rachel's eyes fluttering open at the sensation, feeling something on or around her lips and chin. Finn was leaning over her, saying something, but the throbbing of her head drowned it out as her boyfriend lifted her up and carried her through their apartment, Rachel recognizing their bedroom as the place he set her down, their mattress as comfy as ever. It had been a fine selection of hers two years ago when Finn's old one had gotten too creaky and uncomfortable.
Rachel gave herself a few seconds to acclimate to the pain as Finn sounded like he was shifting some things around in the room. It was weird, he rarely cleaned, so she didn't understand why he was moving things around.
It was the sound of their luggage zipping up that had Rachel shooting up on the bed, recalling the argument that got her there, recalling Finn shoving her hard. Noticing he was distracted a little with packing, she got to her feet and staggered toward the bedroom door.
The feeling of Finn's hand tightly clenching around her wrist stopped her, her boyfriend pulling her uncoordinated body back to his, those familiar arms wrapping around her waist. She could see his lips moving, and some words made it through her haze, but fear overrode any higher functions as she struggled in his grasp, kicking her legs and eventually scoring with a knee to his balls, gaining her hard fought freedom.
As quickly as she could manage, she rushed to the foyer and grabbed for her coat, halfway slipping it on before Finn's body barreled into hers, slamming her against the door. With her arms tangled up in her coat, she managed to work one through its sleeve as he tried to pull her back toward the bedroom.
"Rachel, stop, it's me!" She heard Finn yell out clearly, but she wasn't sure who that was anymore. The Finn she fell for was a kind, gentle man who had loved her and her passion. This wasn't that man.
And that's why she stretched out her hand and raked it down his face as hard as she could, Finn recoiling in pain and clutching at his face with both hands, giving her a free kick to his balls again, sending him to the floor.
Not willing to take a chance at bundling up any more than she was, Rachel rushed back to the door and fled the apartment, bolting down the stairs as fast as she ever had and out of her apartment complex, knowing that there was one area she knew well that Finn didn't.
The wintery winds blew around her, freezing blood and tears to her face as she ran down her street in the dead of night. Her back ached terribly, her lip stung worse than the time she fell out of a tree and split her forehead open, her feet froze as her perforated flats did nothing to keep out the snow and ice, and it hurt to breathe, but she ran.
As she reached the subway, Rachel swore she heard Finn call out after her, and she could only hope there was a car waiting for her down there, and that he wouldn't catch up to her in time.
Santana's day had started off as usual. She'd managed to close shop on time the night before, so she got some good sleep in before getting back to the shop by ten to six. She and her cousin Mariela got the baking started and opened the shop for six-thirty, and she was home for seven once Dani, her old friend from college and the only non-family staff member, arrived.
Santana saw Quinn off at ten after seven, got Beth her breakfast at seven thirty, and went for a nap on her favourite living room couch shortly after. Beth tackled her sleeping form somewhere around nine, forcing her to play with the young girl for the rest of the morning, which wasn't bad at all, even if her drooping eyelids did protest. Lunch led to a quick music lesson on the piano, and after listening to the girl put finishing touches on her first complete 'big girl' song, Santana found her way to work, swapping out with Mariela, who would fill the remaining two hours before Quinn got home.
Her shift was mostly a blur, business oddly picking up despite the post-holidays lull that usually happened, and by the time ten o'clock rolled around, she was in a blissful state of relaxation, sipping away at some hot chocolate while harassing her regulars. Life was good, and when most left to go home or to get to their midnight shifts, she began her clean-up as usual. Rachel had a show that night, but it wasn't like the woman stopped by before or after every show.
So when the bell above the door rang out at about ten to one, accompanied by a chilly gust of wind flowing into the kitchen from the opened door, she half-expected it to be Gillian, one of the nurses who had a habit of popping in with ten minutes to close, asking for a fresh cup of coffee.
"Hide me." The two weakly spoken words shook Santana from her apathy, her head turning to spot a wide-eyed, terrified looking Rachel Berry with a swollen lip and a trail of blood leaking from her mouth, down her chin.
She barely processed any thoughts before she was halfway across the shop, grabbing the diva by the coat and quickly ushering her into the kitchen area's storage room. The woman was shivering up a damn storm, and was inexplicably wearing shoes no one should wear outside of summertime, so she figured some hiding her somewhere the heat of the ovens could still reach her would be a good thing. Hopefully it'd at least warm the diva up and keep any prying eyes away, whoever Berry was hiding from.
Santana was reaching for the first aid kit when she heard the woman's name yelled loudly from outside the store, freezing her movements and causing the diva to shuffle further into the back of the tiny little room. Santana heard the name called out twice more before the sound of the door's bell spurred her to raise a finger to her lips and walk back out into the kitchen with a broom and Lysol wipes in hand. Santana knew she was one of the few businesses in the area to be open so late, so it wasn't super surprising that someone would pop in.
The smile she forced out was probably far too eager-looking to be remotely realistic, but the tall, ogre-faced man didn't seem to notice its fakeness, eyes too busy darting around her shop.
"Hey, I'm just closing up. Can I get you anything before I shut down the cash?" She asked, looking the man over a little more closely as she stepped up to the front counter. His face was marred with some scratch marks and one of his eyes was partially swollen shut, which she felt was a good look on him if he was the one that had hurt her favourite customer in the performing arts. And honestly, he looked absolutely livid and panicked, which pretty much confirmed that he was the culprit if the yelling of Berry's name hadn't already.
"I'm looking for my girlfriend. We got mugged and she ran off all scared, and I can't find her. She's short, brunette, probably freaking out." The man spoke quickly, his eyes still darting around the shop observantly. And there was technically a miniscule chance he was telling the truth, but hiding from a random mugger didn't seem too realistic, nor did the notion that the mugger subdued both of them physically to the extent of their injuries. So all in all, Santana felt it was in Berry's best interest to keep her hidden, especially given what she knew of the guy and the fact that the diva hadn't come out on her own volition, instead cowering further in hiding at the sound of his voice. Everything about him screamed guilty, and she was alright with rendering a verdict on her own without a judge and jury at hand.
Santana shrugged, feigning sympathy. "Jeez, I hope she's okay. Only girls that have come by in the past hour were a blonde and a redhead, both nurses from the nearby Methodist after finishing their shifts. Fortunately, there's a cop shop right around the corner. If she knows the area, she probably headed there." Santana answered with a smile, it genuinely spreading when his face paled and he nodded quickly before rushing out of the shop in a hurry.
Feeling a bit of satisfaction in freaking the guy out, Santana quickly locked the door, flipped her sign, and finished the last few seconds of closing up the shop, packing the soon-to-be-stale products up in a bag before heading back to the storage room to check on Rachel. She'd closed three minutes early, which wasn't much, but it meant she'd be able to accompany the woman to the hospital or to the police or whatever. Santana didn't want Berry going anywhere alone at the moment.
When she opened the door, she found one Rachel Berry munching away nervously on a large bag of chocolate covered raisins, looking too sad, scared and guilty under the harsh fluorescent lighting for Santana to even care that the woman had taken some of her stock. It honestly didn't matter.
"He's gone now, so let's get you patched up, alright, kitten?" Santana asked softly, helping a woeful Rachel to her feet and out into the kitchen where she'd have some space to work with, without much drop in privacy. It was clear that Berry had taken a few hits, what with her lip split open along with some bruises that were forming on the left side of her face.
"What, no sharp, witty remarks for me?" Berry asked defensively, a hard edge in her tone as Santana looked her over for any other injuries, noticing that the woman's wrists were looking a little bruised as well.
Santana looked up from the diva's arms to her big brown eyes, seeing that despite the attempt at playing tough, the woman was feeling anything but at the moment. Silently, she placed the opened bag of chocolate covered raisins back in Rachel's hands and got to work at cleaning up the woman's face, frowning at how deep the split was in her lip. Thankfully, it seemed to have clotted a fair bit, so Santana dabbed it clean and applied some polysporin onto it in hopes it would help. Running off the first aid training her crazy cheerleading coach gave her back in high school was a little less than optimal, but it would have to do.
Once done with that, she took a warm, damp facecloth and cleaned Rachel's face off, not wanting the woman to carry around the blood trails and smears to wherever she'd be going. She gave her a small, hopefully reassuring smile when Berry began nibbling again on the raisins, Santana moving her focus and wrapping her little freezer packs to the woman's wrists. They were usually there in case Santana somehow burned herself on something, but they'd do well enough to help with her customer's injuries at the moment.
"Not sure what else I can do for you right now. Where do we go from here, kitten?" she asked, breaking into a smirk when her customer's usual glare was focused on her at the use of the nickname. It was good to see that characteristic defiance and annoyance over her use of the pet name; besides, Santana figured a bit of normalcy would do them both good given the circumstances. It was only a bonus that it made the woman blush every single time, and that was kind of fun to make happen anyway.
Rachel's nervous silence over the next twenty seconds or so had Santana wondering exactly what was going on in the dramatic woman's head. Normally, she could read people pretty well, but Berry was a mystery right then.
Either way, she wasn't going to wait forever. They had to leave the shop sometime soon. "Do you want to go to the police? Cop shop's only a few blocks away, and I'll walk you there. Or we could call in a cruiser to bring you there. I'm sure a few of my regulars working tonight would recognize you, and you'd be taken care of. They're good people, Rachel." Santana asked, earning a shake of the head. Frowning, she considered the other options available. "Okay, no cops. Hospital? The cut on your lip is deep, and I'm not sure if you'll need stitches or not right now. And really, they're safe, no one's gonna go after you in the waiting room. My uncle Gabe works security at the Methodist nearby, nothing would happen there. Again, a bunch of my regulars are working right now, and I'll stick around, and they'd keep you safe, too."
Again, Rachel shook her head almost immediately, which was a little frustrating, because there went Santana's two ways of using her contacts to really make sure things would get done fast and securely. "How about home? I noticed you didn't come here with your usual bag, but I've got cab money. I can escort you back to your place if you want."
"He lives with me, he has a key." Rachel spoke, being careful not to move her lips much, which had her words coming out like a mumble, but it was definitely discernible enough.
At least, for Santana to understand that home, at the moment, was not an option. "Friends?"
"I can't let them see me like this. I…I won't have the energy to endure a million 'I told you so' remarks, and I know…" Rachel started, wincing as her words sped up and her lips began moving a little more than they probably should have.
"Easy, easy." Santana interrupted softly, applying some gentle pressure with a cloth to the woman's mouth in case it started bleeding again. Removing it to find no new blood, she nodded and stepped back. Honestly, she knew the remaining option wasn't much of one, and that she'd probably regret it, but she wasn't about to just turn her back on one of her favourite customers, especially after enduring some serious hell. "I'll take you in for the night, then. No questions, no hassle, just a warm bed and a night to relax and recover. Five minute walk away."
"I couldn't burden you like that, Santana, it's not like…" Rachel started, but Santana was already in her little office nook, grabbing her winter coat and her bag, getting prepped for the winter weather. Sure, it really was just a five or so minute walk, but it didn't change the fact that there was a wind chill outside that would make her face feel like it was freezing into a mask.
"Don't start that crap with me. You came here for help. I'm not done helping. If you can't go to the cops, the hospital, home, or to your friends' places, then you're gonna let me help you, Rachel." Santana asserted as she returned and stood at the doorway to her office, staring the diva down, if only to let the woman know she was dead serious. Like hell was she just going to leave the actress and part ways with her when Rachel was hurting. Her store may be called Devilish Delectables, but she wasn't evil, she wouldn't do that.
Berry's lower lip trembled as the woman's eyes darted around the kitchen area, searching for something Santana wasn't sure Rachel even knew. "I just don't know what to do." The woman mumbled softly, her hands fiddling with the hem of her coat nervously.
It just drove home the fact that she had to make the decision for the both of them at the moment, even if it would take some control away from a woman who probably desperately needed it, but wasn't sure where to find it. "So let me house you until you know. It's not a race, and it's not a jail sentence. If you wake up at four in the morning and figure it out, then you do what you have to do. If you need until tomorrow afternoon or later, then whatever. I just want to move this to a safe, warm space you can heal up in, Rachel. Outside of that, you're in the driver's seat, you make the call, but we're going to at least take a breather at my place. You, me, that bag of raisins, and maybe some hot cocoa to warm us up, alright?"
Santana waited nervously, hoping the diva would at least allow her that much, and would go along with her instead of continuing to freeze up. Santana knew it was a scary situation, perhaps not firsthand but she'd seen family go through that sort of thing, and was trying to remember all the times her mom had managed to help.
Thankfully, Rachel eventually gave a slow nod and lifted her gaze to Santana's. The woman didn't say anything, she honestly didn't need to, the sheer sadness and heartbreak was so clearly written on Rachel's face that it made Santana's chest ache, which was a mostly foreign feeling in recent years.
Santana crossed the kitchen and wrapped Rachel up in her scarf and mittens, wishing she could do something about the woman's feet, but that'd have to wait until they got home.
If it hadn't been made official before, Santana was sure it could be universally declared that winter sucked ass, feeling it should be much warmer than ten degrees out in mid February. The winds were biting, and the sidewalks had been so ineptly cleared that it was a constant dance to keep Rachel from the stretches of snow and ice, as well as from the sharp rocks of salt strewn across the sidewalks that would seriously hurt the diva more, which was unacceptable.
Thankfully, with a bit of creative pathing, Santana guided them as fast as she could to her familiar brownstone, and up to the third floor. It wasn't the most special of condos, but it was home.
Throughout her childhood, it had been her abuela's place, a regular hang-out place for good food and music. At least, until the woman had left to retire in Florida a few months before Santana had graduated high school. The family collectively decided to offer it to Santana, and Quinn by relation, as a graduation gift of sorts. Santana had been pretty sure Quinn and Beth were more the reasons for the offer, her family knowing the blondes needed somewhere to live on a more permanent basis, but Santana partway grew up in that condo, and it had quickly became a home to her.
They quietly crept into the foyer, Santana peeking around the darkness for any signs of life before leading Rachel into the living room and flicking on the lights. "We just have to be quiet. My roommates are deep sleepers, but sometimes the smallest things can wake them up." Santana whispered, guiding Berry to her favourite couch and sitting her down closest to the fireplace, before heading to the kitchen for supplies. She quickly brewed up a mug of cocoa and grabbed some of the firewood from the box behind the garbage can, swiftly returning to the living room to hand off the mug and get to work on lighting a fire. There was a hell of a lot to do, and the last thing she wanted was her guest to be uncomfortable for longer than necessary.
"Not that this place doesn't seem rather lovely…but it appears somewhat small for you to have multiple roommates." Rachel spoke softly, thankfully not bringing up being a burden, even if the diva's body language told her the woman was feeling like one.
"We make do. It can get a little cozy, but I'm used to big families and being crammed like sardines. Even with two roomies, I've got plenty of space here." Santana noted with a shrug, smiling as the log took to the flame she'd started, a sure sign the living room would get magnitudes warmer over the next few minutes.
When she turned away from the fire and back to the diva, it was clear Rachel was a wee bit focused on the musical additions to the space. "The piano and guitar…are they yours? Or your roommate's?"
Santana wished it was earlier, so she could feel free to showcase them, but there were more important matters to attend to. "They're mine…the guitar is my first, and the piano is a hand me down from my abuela. My pride and joy, respectfully." Santana said with a smile at her loves, even if she rarely got to indulge in them. "Hey, I'll be right back, okay?"
With that, Santana swiftly tiptoed to her room, gathering a pair of slipper socks Quinn gave her for Christmas two years ago, before grabbing some blankets and towels from the linen closet. She figured Rachel needed to warm up, and that one of them, likely her, would be sleeping in the living room, and it was best to prepare. She made one final stop in the kitchen for some frozen peas and freezer packs, figuring that they might be able to help with any swelling or bruising that was troubling her guest.
When she returned, Rachel was right where she left her, but the diva's feet were kicking back and forth, the woman's eyes on the clasped hands in her lap.
"I know it's not really easy to talk about, but did he hurt you anywhere I can't see? Like, your stomach, or legs…" Santana asked, allowing her words to trail off in hopes it was enough for Rachel to get the gist of her question.
The diva looked up, those piercing sad eyes practically splitting Santana's heart in two with just a look. "He…it's mostly just my face, but he…he pushed me around, and my back and my left side hurt." Rachel detailed, the sheer sorrow in her voice making Santana want to track that ogre down and flay him alive, but honestly, Berry was more important at the moment. First came comfort. Then came the personalized contract hit on the jackass who hurt her.
"Okay. Can I get you to lean forward a bit?" Santana asked, crossing the room with purpose. When the diva did as requested, wincing at the motion, Santana slipped a towel-covered bag of peas behind her to help with her back. Then, she wrapped the woman's bruised wrist with a hand-towel covered pack, and then gently handed another to Rachel, who gingerly rested it on her face.
"It's February, and I'm going to be colder indoors than outside." Rachel joked, or at least attempted to, but Santana just straight up wasn't in a laughing mood. Maybe another time, because she got why it could, in theory, be funny, but the context ruined it. Which only made her sadder.
"Shit, I know it's cold, but…maybe the fire will help, and if you're up for staying the night still, my bed's super warm, and…" Santana started, only for Berry's feet to lightly stomp the hardwood flooring, breaking her out of her somewhat embarrassing, aimless stream of thought rambling.
"Santana, I refuse to impose on you any more than I already have. I'm not taking your bed." Rachel argued, trying to look all serious and stern, but failing given the super swollen lower lip made her appear as if she were perpetually pouting.
"It's not an imposition, Berry. You need it more than me, and this couch was my bed for years." Santana claimed along with an eyeroll, though the last bit was an exaggeration. Truthfully, she had slept over often enough, maybe even a month or two's nights a year during her childhood, but it hardly could be referred to as years' worth of sleeps.
Thankfully, though, that seemed to soften the diva's features. "You really sleep here that often?" The woman asked quietly, confusion and skepticism colouring her features a bit, but nothing too intense that Santana felt couldn't be moved past.
"Definitely. Like I said, the piano was my abuela's, and I love it. I'd camp out here a lot of nights just so I could wake up and play it before breakfast. And since I got to call this place home, some nights I don't even make it back to my bedroom, and just crash here. So honestly, I'm good to sleep here. Just like you'd do well taking my bed, because it'd be better for you than the couch." Santana explained, hoping her lengthy reasoning would win the diva over, what with her playing Berry's game of being overly wordy.
Thankfully, Rachel nodded and gave as much of a smile as was likely comfortable. "I…I suppose I could take your bed for the night, then."
"Great. I'll just go get everything ready, do my night-time stuff, and when I come back, I'll get you situated. That sound okay?" She asked, drawing another small nod from her guest.
Once more, Santana slipped out of the living room and swiftly crept to the washroom to get ready for bed herself. While waiting for her moisturizer to sink in, she texted Mariela about plans maybe changing the next morning, and that she'd call her. Santana was pretty sure she'd ask her mami to step in for her the coming morning, given Mariela lived next door to her mami, and the elder Lopez lady was usually really good with emergency fill-ins, but she'd figure that out later.
At the moment, she felt fairly positive she wouldn't be able to make it in early to prep the next day's batches, not with Rachel giving her déjà vu over what had happened with her aunt. Thankfully, Olivia had moved on to a better man, fiancée now, but for years she'd endured an abusive husband, and it had killed Santana to see the woman so sad and hurt on the regular.
Sure, this was the first time she'd seen Rachel hurt, but all Santana knew was that Berry would be safe going forward. No customer of hers would have to deal with that shit, especially the diva who generally made her laugh the most, and made her smile the most, and who tipped like a boss. No, Santana knew people, and she'd pull out all the stops if she had to. Ever since Rachel had shown up, the girl had genuinely smiled less and less as months passed, and Santana just wanted the woman to be happy again, and for those smiles to reach the diva's eyes again. Hey, Berry was a good person, she deserved better.
Once finished with her prep, Santana made her way back to the living room and, as gently as she could, lifted the woman from the couch and led her to her bedroom. It didn't take long to settle the diva in under the sheets with the freezer packs nearby, Santana leaving a hot water bottle for the diva in case she needed it for her aching side. Thankfully, Rachel seemed to melt into her mattress and pillow, which settled Santana's mind a little, knowing at least one woman would manage to get some rest that night.
Soon, she was back on her trusty couch, trying to catch some Zs herself, wishing Rachel's bloody face wouldn't haunt her each time she closed her eyes. If it was the price for berry having a safe haven for the night, though, then she'd deal. Maybe a mid-morning nap would see her through the rest of tomorrow, once she knew Rachel was okay.
A/N: That's the third one in this arc. I'll probably shift it to full story eventually, sometime or another. By then I'll have a better handle on my output for Sanvean and YHiM, and it'll be easier to see if/when I can take on another major story.
I waffled a bit with the direction of this, but IMO Finn's always had a bad temper and control issues, and I think if left to his devices for a few years, stewing in failure and a lack of progress, I think he could have the potential to have a bit of a breakdown as seen above. Of course, I also think he'd feel guilty after, to some degree, but I do think he has that potential given his actions in canon on the show.
Next chapter of this arc will be much more lighthearted, and will feature the other two occupants of Santana's abode, Quinn and Beth Fabray. Which, hopefully, will be a bit of fun :)
Thanks to everyone who has been reading, and all that jazz, I seriously appreciate all the love! I hope your holiday seasons have been great so far, and that your Decembers cap off nicely :D
Guest Reviews:
Guest(1): Well, I suppose you could predict a damsel in distress/hero complex deal. I'll even say it's fair if all you've really read of my stories is Province(admittedly my most popular glee fic) and you think I'm establishing a pattern or something with this. But the 20 or so chapters worth of outlined material for this verse, content which focuses primarily on Rachel and Santana's own growth as characters in this AU along with their friendships (along with a heaping side order of Quinn+Sam romance early in the fic) , would say otherwise. I don't want to spoil much of anything in case I do get to fully write out everything I've outlined, but Rachel doesn't rebound into Santana's waiting arms(heaven forbid). She rebounds into her career, and friends, and eventually dates other people, and while the endgame IS Pezberry, it's much further down the line once a hell of a lot of stuff happens for both of the leading ladies and the people in their lives. I like taking my time and exploring characters, and with this being an AU, I've crafted a whole lot of material for everyone's backstories, and bringing that all to light and developing the cast...it's going to take a lot of time, both in terms of me writing it and in the story's universe itself. It's a big reason why this isn't an official standalone fic yet, I don't like officially committing to such a huge story unless I'm sure I can finish it or at least get to a part that can be taken as a partially crafted ending. For now, I just post what I want to, when I have it, and leave it at that.
So yeah, I won't begrudge you for writing this off. I've written off many highly recommended fics across a number of fandoms due to issues with small bits of content found within them, or themes/tropes I'm not fond of. But I would say it's poor form to presume too much about the content of unwritten stories. Thanks for reading, nonetheless!