Title: Inside Out
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 8.8k
Summary: Santana's back from Indiana for Senior year. She lived her five years ago, but there's something different about the place.
Warning: G!P
Notes: It feels good to be back. Thank you, guys.
/
The car journey is quiet on the way to the Fabray household.
Dropping Dani off was brief but was with a goodnight kiss and Santana promising to pick the girl up in the morning. It wasn't exactly how she wanted the night to end, but she knew that there were more pressing issues involving her best friend, and that took priority. Even if Dani had whispered that she'd think of her tonight whilst showering, and that send heat across her entire body.
An awkward silence hangs in the air now they're here though, and Santana's wondering why Quinn silently pleaded not to continue the conversation in the car with Dani, but is yet to bring it back up now? They've been alone for a solid three minutes. Three minutes longer than it should've taken to restart where they left off.
Fuck it. She's going in. She can't clear her throat any more times without words spilling out.
"What's the deal with you and Puckerman then?"
The blonde visibly flinches, but it's only a second before she replies. "I'm tutoring him, and I told him I wouldn't do it unless he left you alone, but then he tossed you in a dumpster and I got mad."
What the fuck?
Santana's face screw up in confusion, her mouth opening and closing several times as her brain searches through for the first response? On the basis he leaves her alone? What's that meant to mean?
Is it so bad she needs fucking protection? No. Does she need her best friend doing something she may not want to do, because of a few shoves and dumpster visits? Absolutely fucking not. And Puck isn't exactly a big bad villain. He's an asshole with a landing strip for a hair style. He looks like someone just woke him up from a thousand year sleep half the time, and the other half he wears clothes that Santana can only imagine are from his dad's wardrobe.
But Quinn's been different recently. There's this shine in her eyes, a jump in her step and she's got this feistiness to her that wasn't there before.
And Santana can't help but think maybe Puck's an influence there.
"Quinn, I can fend for myself but thank you for telling me."
The blonde snaps her head around, her eyes wider than they were. "You're not mad?"
Her around the wheel tightens, but Santana sighs loudly and shakes her head. "You're a smart girl, Fabray, I'm sure you know what you're doing," she responds and a compliment towards her friend is unfamiliar on her tongue. "But I don't need you to protect me from that jackass. He's not dangerous, he's just stupid."
"It's not protection, it's just to stop the petty shoving and the dumpster shit."
"I know and I get it," Santana sucks in her lips. "I just don't want you doing something you don't want to do."
"I'm not," Quinn admits and shrugs. "And I wasn't lying, the extra cash doesn't hurt."
Maybe there isn't anything between them. Maybe they really are just tutor and student. Maybe it shouldn't be any of Santana's concern, but she just doesn't want her friend to get hurt. They're kind of best friends, in a fucked-up way because they slap the shit out of each other during arguments, but they have this undeniable bond. Like sisters. So she should just suck it up and accept it.
Which is what she does.
"Okay, Q," she smiles and flicks on the radio. "Now let's sing as badly and loudly as we can to piss off your neighbours."
/
It's been a long night.
Santana pulls up in front of her house, rubbing the back of her neck as she flicks off the engine.
She takes a moment, her head slipping back to the headrest behind, and she thinks about everything. It's one of those things that just feels right sometimes, sitting in the car and thinking about life. It brings some weird sort of peace, like when she lies on the floor for no reason or the deep thoughts that pass through her mind in the shower, because it's just a place to sit and reflect.
Then she gets an idea, and she pulls her phone out to send a quick message to her dad that she'll back in an hour.
There's somewhere else she wants to go and think for a bit.
The truck is peeling off the curb in moments.
/
Santana's only been here once, so she navigates slowly up the dirt roads, hoping there's some sort of signage to confirm she's where she hopes she is.
When the road begins turning in a small hill, the trees peel away to reveal the full moon, illuminating the sky and Santana knows she's in the right place. It was the same night sky when she came here with Brittany, and she thinks that Lima Point might be a new addition on her places to think list. It's certainly more aesthetically pleasing than her bedroom floor and the tiled wall of her en-suite.
But when she hits the brow of the hill, the small, fenced off parking lot in front of her, her heart damn nearly stops, and she wonders if she's having some weird type of deja-vu because her truck isn't the only vehicle here.
There's a black SUV, parked up in the same spot that she was in that night, and she flicks off her headlights, not wanting to startle or alert the person she thinks might own the car.
And it's confirmed when the car door opens, and long legs step out, because there's no way Santana would mistake those pins.
Because – of course – it's Brittany.
The truck pulls up beside the other car, slowing to a stop and Santana takes in a deep, shaky breath before she opens her own door. Her fingers quake as she reaches for it, and she tells herself this is just a pure coincidence, because it actually is, but that there's not some other cosmic reasoning behind it because that's not something she wants to consider, or it'll be in her dreams for weeks to come.
The wind is light, but bitterly cold and it hits her cheeks when she steps out her truck. Brittany's right there, looking painfully beautiful in the dim moonlight, leaning casually against her car and there's a small smile playing at her lips, but to Santana's glee, it's not the sad one she's seen the last couple of times.
"Are you still stalking me?"
It lightens the tension rapidly, and Santana giggles as she mirrors the other girls stance, folding her arms across her chest. "I've got a GPS on your car," she teases and the blonde looks worried for a moment. "Or it was just fate."
The words hit harder than she meant, because Brittany blinks up at her slowly, her lips pulling into her mouth like she's trying to swallow what she wants to say. "Where's Dani?"
"Home," Santana doesn't miss a beat in replying. "Quinn had to talk to me about Puck."
The blonde stills, and if it wasn't for the moonlight glowing around her, Santana would've missed it. "What about?"
"She's tutoring him," she utters, but she doesn't think it comes as a shock because Brittany's silent for too long. "Am the only one that didn't know?"
"We broke up," the blonde blurts out and shit, it's what Santana wanted to hear, but not the time she wanted to hear that. It makes her a little angry, a little pissed off that they couldn't rewind the time to when they were here before, covered in Taco Bell wrappers because things could've been different.
Things could've gone a different way.
"And I knew, I just –" Blue eyes meet brown. "I thought it was some weird thing he was doing to piss you off, and when I asked him about it, he got really mad."
There's suddenly a different type of anger in Santana's body. It's flaring up her arms and tickling her spine, and she imagines it's the same feeling as getting licked by a flame because if Puck has even touched this girl, she won't be up here for long she'll be doing ninety to Puck's house and removing his testicles with a rusty spoon.
"And then I found out he tossed you in a dumpster," the girl continues, and Santana wants that memory to disappear forever.
It wasn't her finest moment, and she sure as hell doesn't want it to be a reason Brittany and Puck broke up. That will create a whole load of questions she doesn't want to think about, and she's just beginning something with Dani, who has now met her dad, and got in with her friends. It's all too much for Santana, and she can't stop the way she spits her response because the anger is still sizzling within her.
First Quinn, now Brittany. Why is she a fucking damsel in distress? Why does she need fucking saving? She can look after herself.
"I don't need anyone to fucking protect me," she grinds her teeth together, fists now curling against her body where her arms are crossed. "And you didn't need to question him because Quinn's a big girl, she can look after herself."
"But you don't know Puck the way I do, Santana," Brittany drops her hands by her side, her face contorting with annoyance. "He's always been an asshole, will always be one and he treats girls like shit because he can."
It doesn't settle well with Santana because there's knowledge behind her words and she notes to make sure she kicks him in the balls so hard his scrotum pops out his mouth next time she sees him for treating Brittany for anything less than she is – perfect. Still, she can't vocalise it because the girl in front of her doesn't need someone to hit on her, she needs a friend, especially when a lone tear begins falling and she offers out her arms, breathing a little easier when the girls steps into them, and pulls in to a tight embrace.
The girl is warm, and her arms are wrapping around her neck, Brittany's chin resting beside her ear. Santana slings her grip low, hands coming together at the base of the blondes back and she hums loudly as they sink into each other.
This is nice. This is warm. This is familiar in a way that Santana doesn't know how because they haven't even known each other that long.
But the moment is broken when the blonde pulls away, straightening up and taking a step back. It seems like more than a step – it seems like fucking miles – but Santana gets it, and she knows it's the appropriate thing to do.
And she doesn't want to hang on this moment. She doesn't want to dwell on it because it's already a huge mind-fuck and she can't seem to think about what she wants because she doesn't know. It's not like Brittany's offering herself, or even insinuating that they could be more, but it feels like this is a place where that could start to be a possibility, and there's another cheerleader that deserves to be treated better like that.
That doesn't deserve to be treated like Puck would treat a girl.
So, she clears her throat, lets her mouth turn into a grin and holds out her pink. "Wanna get a Taco Bell?"
Brittany meets her eye and smiles excitedly. "Only if you're buying."
/
School is uneventful for the next week or so, nothing happening that Santana occupies herself with.
Her and Dani have been going well, taking it steady with after-school make-out sessions but fully clothed and with the door open because Dani's mom might have been different back in her day, but she knows teenagers now and there was no chance she was leaving them alone. Especially not when she found a roll of condoms in her daughter's purse – another thing to add to Santana's embarrassment list. Thank God she wasn't there though, she just heard about it.
There's another house party on Friday night, and Santana receives an invite through Dani as it's one of her Cheerio friends, and naturally she tells her she won't go without Quinn and Rachel. They're a group package, and Dani tells her of course and the text is sent out to her friends.
"Do I look too much like a schoolgirl?" Rachel twirls around in the mirror, eying herself and the plaid skirt wrapped around her body.
They're in Santana's room, and Dani's here, too. It's sort of become a thing that they all get together before things to get ready, and it's nice that the cheerleader is here, too. They still haven't spoken about what they are, but they're something, and Santana's good with that.
"No, the pig tails and middle school jumper is gives you some real sex appeal," she quips, smirking at her friend. Quinn clicks her tongue and moves to the small brunette, undoing her hair and hands out a dress in trade for the sweater. "Why you gotta ruin it, Fabray?"
The blonde rolls her eyes and they both scurry off to the bathroom to sex Berry up a little. God only knows she needs it.
Dani twists around, from where she's sat at the head of the bed and Santana matches the movement so they're facing each other.
"What are we doing?"
The question makes Santana freeze for more than one reason.
Not only is it supposed to be discussed in a little more of a romantic setting than sitting on the bed, in her room, with her friends attempting the impossible in her en-suite, but Santana isn't entirely sure. She's been thinking about what they are, and how she hasn't been attempting to talk to anyone else – okay, maybe Brittany, but they're texting now at least after she bit the bullet. That second visit at Lima Point hit home, made her realise they could be friends – but she's not sure that Dani isn't speaking to anyone else either, and so she wanted clarity on that before anything else.
Due to the indecision in her mind, she can't help but joke her way out of it. "Waiting for Quinn to perform a miracle," she refers to her friends in the bathroom.
Dani does laugh, but it's only for a short few seconds and then she's looking down, picking at the edge of the comforter. "You know what I mean, Santana."
Yeah. She does.
But does she?
Does Santana know what she wants with this girl? Yeah, sure, she wants to keep kissing her and spending time with her, but does she want to completely cut off possibilities of anything else? Does she want to commit when it's been going good for a few weeks, but it always goes well in the beginning?
And she won't lie. She doesn't want to blur the boundaries they have, so she does the only thing she can do, and be honest.
"I think we're going somewhere," she admits and it's not what Dani wanted – evident by half-smile on her face – but it's the truth. "But let's just take it slowly…" Santana threads their fingers together and brings it to her lips, pressing a single kiss on the back of the other girls hand. "Because I like where we are, and I know I like you. Is that okay?"
Dani bobs her head, clearly disappointed in the confirmation, but it's at that moment Quinn and Rachel come out the bathroom and hot damn, Berry looks fucking insane.
Her hair is now curled around her face, fringe lingering over her eyes. She's now wearing a tight black dress – apparently they took other clothing choices in there with them – and low heels. She could easily turn multiple heads if she walked into a club, and judging by the smirk on Quinn's face, that might have been the point. There was a rumour going around school that Jake and Kitty had broken up, and Santana thinks this may actually work if that's the case.
Gross. She's finding herself checking out the Jew.
"You look incredible, Rachel," Dani breathes and climbs off the bed towards her, taking her hands and giving her a twirl. "Santana better treat me well or I'll bring you to the dark side."
They all laugh in unison, and a blush creeps over Rachel's face as Dani winks at her and well, that wink would be enough to bring the straightest of girls to their knees. Santana just rolls her eyes and climbs off the bed, announcing it's time to leave.
/
"That for Jake, by any chance?" She asks Quinn as they're heading down the stairs and out the house to Dani's car.
They would take the truck, but it's only a double cab and it was less than comfortable with Dani and Quinn in there, so to add Rachel to the mix would just be overcrowded. And illegal.
Hazel eyes flash to her, the blonde grinning ear to ear. "I think tonight will be very interesting."
Santana smirks back. "I'm looking forward to it."
But she shouldn't be.
/
The house party is all very cliché.
Beer kegs are in the kitchen, there's a back garden to throw up in, jocks are cheering each other on in chugging competitions and half the house has been turned into a dance floor. The house is bigger than Dani's, and so it's a little more spread out than before, plus the girl told everyone to dress up in slightly more formal get ups, and Santana's beginning to understand Quinn's plan with Rachel – turning Cinderella into the princess. Not hard when the dusty, old Cinderella is Rachel fucking Berry. Large potential, little usage.
They're all standing in the kitchen, drinks in hand when there's a commotion and a few more people file into the club. There's a few more jocks, carrying kegs above their heads, and the atmosphere changes when Santana realises she doesn't recognise any of them. Quinn shifts beside her, Rachel nowhere to be seen since Jake rocked up announcing his new lack of relationship, and then her eyes focus on one of the lettermen jackets the guys are wearing and instead of a MH symbol, it reads CH.
Carmel High.
"Fuck," comes from beside her and Quinn's setting down her drink, her face getting serious. "This can't be good."
Santana furrows her brow, registering that everyone's body language has changed, and the music is still playing, but it's not half as loud as it was. "What's going on?"
"There's always trouble when these guys crash parties," her friend explains. "Last time, Puck ended up in jail because he threw one of them through a window."
Shit. That's not good, and it's definitely not good for them because there's a concern in Quinn's eyes that breaks the whole tutor-student theory. And she doesn't even get to stop her, because in a blink the girl is gone and Santana's left with Dani, who pays no more attention to the party-crashers and continues talking to the few cheerleaders standing around them. She takes a long swig of her drink, and then there's a body sliding in beside her jolting her elbow to so liquid dribbles down her chin, and she's fully ready to go all Lima Heights on them when she realises it's–
"Brittany," she breathes, taking in the girl beside her. The blonde's obviously a little intoxicated, her eyes blue and cheeks are flushed with a dark pink, and there's a tight white dress donning her body. It's wrapped around all the right places, highlighting her womanly figure and Santana gulps loudly.
Damn, this girl is so fucking hot.
Its hard to shake herself out her thoughts, more so because they're deep in the gutter, because she somehow manages and finishes off her cup, needing the harsh spike of alcohol to settle her nerves.
"Nice shirt," the blonde comments, eyes trailing up and down.
Santana can't help it. "Nice legs," she replies, much like they did when they ran into each other down at the bleachers that one time and Santana chuckles to herself as she takes another sip.
"You can't say stuff like that," Brittany's face falls, but there's something else there, too. "Not whilst you're with…"
Her words trail off, eyes flickering behind Santana who momentarily panics, realising the girl she's seeing is behind her. Still, her and Brittany are friends now. They text and update each other on their lives. Sure, they don't share any details about their love and sex lives, but that's totally normal right? There are friends that don't have to share everything, and that's just not a necessary part of their relationship. Neither one has mentioned anything, so it's an unspoken mutual agreement.
"Yeah," she blurts out, shaking her head, "Sorry, I just –"
"I get it," Brittany interrupts and begins pouring herself another drink with the few bottles on the counter. "But Dani's my friend, and you two are good together, so I'm happy for you."
It's almost like there's a challenge in the blondes voice, but then Dani's joining in, and they're hugging each other hello. Dani's a little more buzzed than she was, and Santana drops her gaze to the floor, feeling weird about their conversation. So, Brittany's just, happy for her now? Is that it?
"Let's dance, babe," the brunette cheerleader grabs Santana's hand and shoots a wink.
Santana knows what happened last time they danced. She finishes off her drink in one long swig and throws the cup on the side, desperately ignoring as some Carmel High jock saunters up to Brittany and immediately starts hitting on her.
It doesn't make sense.
/
There's a group of jocks in the garden holding a beer shotgun competition.
Santana's watching from the decking, sitting on a bench with Dani beside her, legs thrown over Santana's lap. It's been a different type of vibe at this party, with not much dancing going on and it only took ten minutes of doing it with Dani in the small group of people who were doing it too, before she physically had to stop. The girl had her pressed into a dark corner of the room and was pushing her hips up in a way that made Santana want to take her upstairs and tear her clothing off.
But a weird heavy guilt had been weighing on her chest since the conversation with Brittany, and she had put some distance between the two, feigning light-headedness from too much alcohol.
So, they came outside to get some fresh air, and just happened to be presented with entertainment at the same time.
(It was also a welcome exit because mid-dance, she spotted Brittany heading upstairs, some random Carmel High asshole in tow and she couldn't take it.)
"It's getting cold," Dani says, wiggling in her spot to gain warmth from Santana.
"I'll go get you a coat," she replies, pressing a kiss to the girls forehead and telling her she'll be back in a minute.
The house is packed still, students everywhere, but there's a strange divide with the Carmel students monopolising the kitchen, and the McKinley kids glaring at them from the living room. Santana makes her way through, ducking when a jock begins throwing beer everywhere and ripping his shirt off, and he finds herself nearing the closet under the stairs. It's where she threw her coat when they arrived, and she manages to dig through the pile to find it.
But as she's shutting the closet door behind her, there's a hand wrapping around her wrist and tugging her into a bathroom nearby, the breath ripped from her chest as she's pushed against the door to find Brittany staring down her. There's a glaze to her eyes that she knows if from the booze, but she's biting her lip and folding her arms, walking away towards the bathroom sink, meeting brown eyes in the reflection of the mirror, taking a long moment before she speaks.
So long, that Santana gets impatient.
"Brittany, what–"
"I made a mistake," the blonde interrupts, her hands shooting out to grab either side of the sink and head dropping down, eyes moving to the tap. Oh now she wants to speak. "I lied."
It's not exactly what Santana was expecting, and she wrings the jacket in both hands, shifting side to side. She wasn't expecting it, but she also doesn't want to ask what the girl lied about because deep down, she's pretty sure she knows what lines this is along.
"Lied about what?"
Fuck. Why did she ask?
Blue eyes shoot up, meeting Santana's gaze and the blonde tilts her head, her face softening and jaw clenching. "Dani asked me about you," she replies, slowly, the words not finding a way out her mouth easily. "She asked me what the deal was between us because I–"
She stops, and Santana steps forward, minimising the space between them. "Because you what, Britt?"
"Because I talked about you… a lot."
Okay, maybe she doesn't know, but it doesn't make sense. It doesn't make any fucking sense why Brittany's standing here suddenly having an epiphany of something, but she's just stuttering as to what about. Santana's fed up of getting these mixed signals, of not being able to read the girl. She's fed up of thinking about whether she herself is making a mistake with Dani, or whether it's the right thing to do because it's how she feels.
Because she doesn't know how she feels. It's like a blurred area in her brain that just won't clear, and she knows its not fair to anyone for her to be this undecided, to be this indecisive.
"She asked me if I had dibs on you, because she thought you were cute," Brittany continues and carefully spins around, resting against the counter. "And I told her that she should make a move because I had Puck."
Ouch. That hurt.
Santana dips her head at the pain, her tongue pressing against the inside of her teeth as she takes a second. "What does that even mean?"
The blonde is suddenly in her space, the mix of perfume, alcohol and strawberry shampoo filling her head. The girl takes Santana's coat, throwing it on the sink behind her and replaces it with her hands, gingerly stroking the back of Santana's hand with her thumb.
"It means I was wrong; I shouldn't have told her that," Brittany's eyes are wide and honest, but there's fear flashing behind them, revealing how vulnerable she is in this moment. "I shouldn't have told her it was okay because it wasn't and isn't."
The words don't settle right in Santana's head, and she looks up, searching blue eyes. The space between them is tiny, the blondes breath repeatedly hitting Santana's lips and she wonders for a second what it would be like to kiss her. The image surges through her brain, and she can't help when she's dropping her stare to perfect lips. She can't help when her hands grab back, winding their fingers together and feeling the warmth of the girls body against hers.
It's a potent mix of alcohol and Brittany, and it swims in her brain, the blur fading as she–
"Brittany?" There are a few rapid bangs on the bathroom door, and they spring apart to opposite sides of the small room. "Britt, are you in there?"
Shit.
"It's Dani," Brittany confirms, because yeah, Santana knows that.
Panic sets in, her heart now beating ten-fold and she strokes down her hair, looking in the mirror briefly to see the reflection of a very terrified Santana. But she knows showing the fear won't end well – not that she knows how they can talk their way of this compromising position – and she looks to the blonde who's at the door opening it.
What the fuck?
"Dani," Brittany lets out a sigh, and Santana knows it's not of relief. "What's up?"
Dani's face falls as she takes in the sight. "What's going on?"
Santana's mouth pops open but the blonde is whipping her head around, don't reply in her expression and so she does just that. There isn't a single thing she had prepared in the three seconds of thinking.
"I needed help undoing my dress," the cheerleader explains, but Dani doesn't buy it.
She's raising an eyebrow, looking between the two and around the bathroom. All the items are intact, so it's not like they could've been fucking on the counter or anything, and after a long few seconds, she's tilting her head back and putting a smile on her face that doesn't quite reach her eyes.
"Sure," she says, her lips pressing together hard. "Puck just started a fight with that Carmel kid, so he's left and taken your keys."
The wonder of why Puck even has access or the audacity to steal Brittany's keys comes to mind, but the blondes already whipping out the bathroom and disappearing back into the party with concern etched into her features. Dani's still standing there, her eyes hard in a way that Santana's not privy to, but she knows to play this out she has to be totally normal and forces it through her veins, reaching her hands out to grab at the girl in front of her.
"I was just helping her," she offers, trying to confirm Brittany's story. It wasn't the best excuse, but it was enough to not seem too dumb and well, better than anything than Santana had. "What happened with Puck?"
Dani begins to play with the lapels of her shirt and seems to forget it. She recites the story of the fight, apparently it was Puck's turn to shotgun a beer when the Carmel kid challenged him and when Carmel one, he'd thrown the empty can at Puck and told him to pick up a member of his family. Apparently, that was a poor attempt at calling the jock trash; and due to his short fuse, Puck had blown up and punched the kid, starting a full-on riot in the back garden between the two schools.
Santana just listens, allowing her heartbeat to return to normal before she's suggesting they get back outside to see what's happened with a long kiss that doesn't feel right.
/
The riot has calmed down by the time they get out, which is kind of disappointing because Santana does love a good fight, but it's also a relief because Brittany's sitting around the small firepit in the middle of the garden, keys now in hand and she's not anywhere near Puck. Nothing but a good sign.
Dani tugs her over, and they all sit in a circle, exchanging stories and telling jokes and it's only after a few minutes that she notices the girl beside her isn't actually paying any attention to what's going on, but rather on the blonde involved in it. It makes Santana panic, her hands forcing themselves to continue stroking up and down the girls back so she doesn't notice that she's noticed, and she tries to think of a way to get the girl away from the fire pit.
But it's too late.
"Let's play truth or dare," Dani announces, interrupting the whole conversation.
The ten or so people surround the firepit all turn their eyes, a couple of them cheering because it's just an easy way to get their mack on with someone in the circle, but Santana can't help but think this is a really bad idea. Not only because she has a few truths to tell, and if she was dared to kiss Brittany, she'd all about die, but because there's a twist to Dani's expression that she's not used to. There's a slight curl of her lip, a bit too much volume to her voice that just screams this is not going to be good and the quick thought of whether she could just spontaneously combust comes to mind because if there was ever a time, this would be it.
Despite there not being many people out in the garden, as the tension builds, a few people come out the house to stand around, noticing what's happening in the garden, Quinn and Rachel included who are looking wholly concerned.
"First person," the brunette cheerleader begins, searching around the crowd as she stands and holds her cup up. "Brittany. Truth or dare?"
Of course, she'd choose the blonde first. Of course, she wants to put Brittany under the spotlight, because Dani didn't by the dress story the girl told her even a little. She definitely fucking didn't and that's incredibly evident by the way she's cocking her head, ready for a challenge and choosing for her friend before the girl can even reply. Santana whispers her name, blood rushing to her cheeks because this is bad. This is really fucking bad.
"Let's go truth," Dani starts, and she turns to look down at Santana, having ignored the call of her name the first time. "Do you have feelings for Santana?"
Well, fuck.
The music has stopped, or at least got turned way down, and the garden is so still a twig could break and scare everyone. The only sounds in the background are the lick of the flames from the firepit, and the few hushed whispers from the students surrounding it and Brittany shifts in her spot, eyes darting around. Deer in the fucking headlights.
"Dani, I–I–"
"Or maybe you'd prefer me to just dare you to kiss her," Dani whips her head around, her nostrils flaring and she's pissed. The dress story was such fucking bullshit that Santana clenches her fist and wishes she'd thought of literally anything else. Maybe even the truth. "So you don't have to do it behind closed doors."
Brittany chokes out a sob, her face as red as a tomato and it clenches around Santana's heart, twisting because it's mean. It's fucking humiliating and demeaning, and Santana thought the world of Dani prior to this moment.
She's been so funny, so kind and caring and it disappoints Santana because regardless of whether the girl has a point or not, this isn't the way to address it, and it makes her angry. It pisses her off, possibly more so than Dani is right now, and she finds herself shooting up to her feet, her fist pressing into the top of her thighs and she's spinning Dani around, waving her hands around in the air to release the heat pulsating through her.
Brittany doesn't see it though, she's already run off back into the house, Quinn following hot on her heel.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
Dani chokes out a laugh, wavering in her spot. The girl's pissed and drunk. Winning combo. The most likely reason for the hidden bitch to come out.
"What am I doing?" She snorts, looking around for approval. No-one's laughing though. No-one's approving this behaviour. "I'm not the one hiding in the bathroom with one of my best friends, Santana."
"Whatever you think you know, you don't," she hisses, unable to look at the girl. She's not one to take bullying, especially not when it's pointed at her blonde, blue-eyed weakness. It's one of the reasons she hates Puck, he treats everyone like shit because of his own insecurities. And she's seething. She's so fucking angry she can't see anything but red and she know she needs to get out of here before she says something she regrets. "Don't fucking follow me."
She manages to hold back the heat behind her eyelids until she's throwing open the gate at the side of the house and storming off into the night.
/
It's the last person Santana expects to find when she's walking through the night, battling her thoughts.
But sure enough, Puck's there, sitting on the curb, brown paper bag holding a bottle in his grasp outside the local mini mart. He's looking a little worse for wear, and Santana's momentarily pleased to see this asshole because she's still angry, and their exchanges always manage to find and release the bitch within. However, when she gets about five meters away from him, she can see a reflection of her very own emotion in his expression, and it stops the roar inside her chest from coming out.
Is she relating to him, right now?
What the fuck is tonight?
"Liquor in a brown paper bag?" She lands on saying, crossing her arms over her chest. "All you need is a cardboard box and you'll be right at home."
Puck looks up, defeat in his eyes. "Fuck off, Lopez," he spits, but it's weak. "Leave me alone."
Despite everything in her telling her to just move along, head home and continuing to torture herself with her own mind, she finds herself lowering beside the guy, wishing she'd taken her coat from the party because it's cold.
"What's wrong?"
She's not sure she cares, but it's a distraction from her own problems and that's an upgrade.
Puck runs his hand through his mohawk and winces as he takes a long pull of the bottle. "Got into a fight."
"I heard," she replies and eyes the shopping cart in the far corner of the parking lot.
"Not with the douchebags from Carmel," he corrects and Santana slides his eyes to his, seeing an innocence she's never seen before. "I fought with Quinn."
The last time she saw her friend was around the firepit, when Quinn was chasing Brittany back into the house.
"About what?"
It's the second time she's asked that question tonight, and she reels through the events in her mind, feeling guilty for not knowing that there was a world outside her, Brittany and Dani at the party. She's not usually so selfish, and now there's a burning urge to call Quinn to check in on her. After all, she did just leave the party after they all came together.
"She told me to leave when the Carmel assholes showed up so I didn't get into anything again," Puck answers and offers out the bottle to Santana. Usually, she wouldn't, and the gesture is a little too friendly for their relationship, but it's been a rough night and she needs an alcohol coat. "And it just blew up from nothing. I went out to the garden to chill and shotgun a few beers after and then that kid called me trash," he explains, and his voice catches on the last word. "So, I hit him."
Not knowing where this is going, Santana takes a long swig, the bitter sting of liquor pouring down her throat and it settles in her stomach, blossoming her body with the beginnings of a warmth again. She can't feel her toes.
"And then Quinn was pissed again because I did what she asked me not to and said she wouldn't tutor me again," he shrugs his shoulders and Santana can see the genuine upset he's feeling.
It's unfamiliar, but not entirely unsettling. If she didn't know this asshole any better – if she hadn't had her suspicions confirmed when Brittany told her he was and always would be an asshole – she'd actually consider believing his charade.
(She kind of already does believe it.)
"I just don't wanna be that guy anymore," he holds his hand out for the bottle and doesn't breathe between grabbing it and downing a large portion of the liquor. "I don't want to be this."
For a second, Santana hurts for him. For a second, she finds herself listening deeply, actually feeling the emotion in the guy's words, but then she remembers all the things he's done. She remembers not only him laughing at her whilst his friends threw her in a dumpster, but the way Brittany said how mad he got. She remembers the seriousness in the blonde's voice that night at Lima Point, and she begins shaking her head.
She can't believe him. She can't actually be buying that he's remorseful for punching someone. That's nothing to him. If he stabbed the guy, maybe Santana would be shocked, but throwing a fist at a nemesis school student? Not so out of this world.
But Santana doesn't get to reply with a smart remark, before there's headlights beaming over them and a large van screeching as it comes to a stop in front of them. She doesn't even get to ask who the fuck these people are before her heads being covered with a dark sack, blackness taking over and she's being manhandled into the sliding door of the vehicle in front of her, the sound of Puck yelling and following her in as she kicks out her legs to defend herself.
It's pointless, but for once in her life, she thinks it may not be a bad thing to have Puck with her.
/
"You sure this is the asshole?"
It comes from behind Santana, and she thinks the drivers are conversing about Puck. There's no way they mistook her for him, but she's curious as to why she's even in her. She'd like to say she's scared, but due to growing up in Lima Heights as a child, this kind of thing was a regular occurrence. Usually a case of mistaken identity – which judging by what these guys are saying, they're after Puck – and yeah, it's never actually happened to her before, but she's smart, and if her hands weren't currently tied thanks to the person in the back of the van with them, she could probably take a couple out and get away.
Takes a little more than her hands to be tied and a sack over her head to scare her.
"Yeah, but the girl isn't anything to do with it, she's just a bystander."
"So why did we grab her?"
"She would've called the police and we didn't bring hoods, so she would've ratted us out."
It means their faces are out, and Santana knows it isn't some gang or anything because there's a stench of cheap aftershave and cider flowing up her nostrils. They're kids, and due to the events of tonight, she's going to place a bet on them being Carmel High lot.
The van comes to a stop, and Santana nudges her foot out, thankfully coming into contact with Puck who nudges back. They're not friends, and prior to being bundled into the back of a van, she was prepared to release her wrath on him, but now they're stuck in this strange kidnapping scenario, not knowing what to do or what these people want and its making them bond in the most dysfunctional way possible.
"She's just collateral damage," one of the voices says as the doors fly open, the chill hitting Santana's body and she's heaved out the vehicle, being carried only a few steps before she's being dropped into water.
It's soft, and squishy, and she knows she's covered in mud which is really going to piss her off as she's wearing her favourite pair of jeans. Then the sack over her head is being whipped off and she blinks away the light piercing her eyes as they adjust. Puck's being thrown down beside her when she focuses, his chest falling flat into the mud and he yells fuck as they haul him back on to his knees, taking the cover off his head too.
"Well, I guess two for the price of one is cool," a guy says, stepping forward in front of the light. He's one of the jocks from Carmel that was at the party, the CH being a dead giveaway. "But now what to do with you."
It's a question, but Santana's already laughing because they actually went through the trouble of fucking kidnapping them without any afterthought. They don't have the balls to do any serious damage, or they would've done it with the hoods on, in case of identification. Although judging by what she heard in the van, it must have been an opportunity decision as they didn't even bring hoods to cover their own faces.
"The fuck do you want?" Puck snaps, his mouth baring with aggression. "You started on me."
The Carmel High jock crouches down and wrinkles his nose. "Just a little payback," he replies and looks to Santana. "How do you two feel about a fight?"
That's wasn't her initial thought, but she can see the reasoning behind it until she realises they're talking about them fighting. Puck punches one of his friends, so Puck has to punch one of his own? Well, that asshole hasn't thought it through clearly, because she's not his friend, and she's a girl. Puck won't hit her, he's an asshole but she knows that much, even if she'd actually love the guy to swing at her just so she could get a solid few uppercuts in and have a reason behind performing some Navi'da shit on his scrotum.
"I'm not going to hit a girl," Puck retorts. "I'd floor her in one punch."
It's offensive. Mostly because he's totally underestimating her, and it may be the small amount of alcohol in her veins, or maybe it's because she's still pissed over the whole Dani and Brittany thing, but suddenly it doesn't seem like such a bad idea and she's turning to him, an incredulous look on her face. Lima Heights runs through her veins, the black belt she has in Karate finally having it's moment and she's so fucking up for this it's unreal. She honestly doesn't think she's been this excited about anything in a while.
"Oh yeah?" She chortles. "Bring it, bitch."
The Carmel High jocks all laugh together, there's about five of them and they're clapping their hands, but the one that was speaking – lead jackass – is the one to speak. "Untie them, boys. This will be fun."
/
It's not so fun when she's standing across a muddy field, staring at Puck in a tank top.
Santana's size is a serious weakness in this battle, but she knows she makes up for it in speed. Puck might have rippling muscles and knowing he's quarterback on the football team, he's got endurance and stamina, but she's tactful and agile. She's faced tougher guys than this back in her karate days, and even though she hasn't done it in a few years, her body still manages to find the pre-fight stance that's ingrained in her skin and study the way he shifts.
But she's confused, because Puck winks at her and mouths hit me and she's wondering if this is some weird way to psych her out and catch her off guard.
Still, it won't take him begging to punch them because she's always wanted to, and so she moves carefully over to him, fists up near her face and ducks quickly, throwing her left hand out and colliding with his cheek. He stumbles, into the side of the van and she feels this electricity pulse through her – the excitement of a fight sending adrenaline sizzling, but then he pauses, a little too long – and Santana can punch, but that was nothing – and he's jutting his chin to the open driver door of the van. Her eyes follow the gesture and sees a set of keys dangling out of the ignition and–
Holy shit.
He's fucking planning an escape. She doesn't cast a second thought to the loud shouting coming from the Carmel High boys and mouths hit me this time, and Puck shakes his head but she clenches her jaw at him. This must look legitimate, even if it means her taking a punch and then she's going to get him in a headlock and move towards the front of the truck.
Her heart's beating double time, and she bites down hard, tensing and ready and the pain sears through her face when Puck hits her.
Fuck.
That fucking hurt.
"Shit," the guy whispers, concern etching his features but she knows the other school guys can't see it so she takes the opportunity and leaps towards him, ignoring the blood dripping inside her mouth and wraps her arms around his neck, driving him back into the side of the van with a hard knee to the stomach.
Okay, she didn't need to wind him, but that right hook's going to leave a bruise.
"Grab them," she hushes, leaning down closely and then lifts her elbow up in the air, pretending that she's about to strike him.
Puck pushes her away in an instant, and spits blood out his mouth towards the jocks. A surge of excitement bolts through Santana and she uses the distraction to climb into the cab of the van, losing her footing at the step.
"Get in!" She yells, and the look on the Carmel High's kids is the best fucking thing she's ever seen.
They're shooting up from the logs where they're sat, drinking cheap cider and shouting stop at the top of their lungs, eyes wide and shocked. Obviously Puck doesn't stop, sliding into the van and flicking on the engine, throwing a middle finger up as he peels away, dirt spitting out from the wheel spin he performs. Santana grins widely, breathing super heavily and joins in, throwing half her body out the window and screaming fuck you as they speed away, chuckling together at the losers now stuck in the middle of nowhere.
"Fuck," she pants, sliding back in and slumping heavily, realising the ache in her jaw and the mud on her jeans. "Could've held back a little, Puckerman."
The jock is bouncing in his seat – clearly thrilled with the events that just occurred and turns to her. "You can handle it, Lezpez, plus, you wanna talk about the knee to the ribs?" He teases and let his head fall to the headrest behind. "Nice work, though, back there."
It's a strange moment, because Santana's actually enjoying the company of this guy right now and she thinks this must be some type of dream because tonight is just something that couldn't be made up. Firstly, the whole house party thing, then they got kidnapped and managed to outsmart the Carmel High kids and steal their van, whilst fucking getting along. When she tells her friends tomorrow, they're not going to believe it.
"You can handle it, Skunk Strip," she punches him in the arm as they see the lights of the town up ahead. "You good to drop me off?"
Puck nods and turns the van into a residential road. "Gotta dump this thing somewhere after," he replies and Santana sucks her lips into her mouth.
"Think we'll get in trouble?"
She doesn't want to sound like a nerd or anything, but the last thing she needs to add to the list of shit in her life is to be arrested. She's already got to sort out this Dani and Brittany situation, and there's literally nowhere good to start and she's got to talk to Quinn because this entire night has just been bizarre.
The van pulls into Santana's road, and she sees her house on the left hand side. A swell of emotion comes over her and she feels like she needs to say something to Puck about tonight. She feels like she needs to say thanks or something along those lines, but why? Technically, she saved Puck. Sure, he thought of the plan to ditch them in the field and leave them to find their own way home in the middle of the night, but had she not been there, it could've been a lot worse.
What would they have done to him?
"That kind of thing happen to you a lot?"
Puck's eyes flash with something, but Santana doesn't know him well enough to read what it is. "Not a lot," he confirms. "But not the first time."
There's something in his voice that makes her stay silent instead of press on. The van slows to a stop, and she takes her cue to climb out the van, pausing to turn around and look at him.
"I still don't like or trust you."
Puck laughs, almost knowingly. "I don't expect anything less."
Santana narrows her eyes but smiles at him and whispers asshole as she shuts the door. He flashes her a quick smile and heads off in the van.
Maybe Puck is just stupid, like Quinn said to her. She doesn't know, but she knows she's got a lot to think about.
/
I have no idea how long this will be. I thought it'd be a two shot, but I keep finding scenes I want to write.