Title: Inside Out
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 11.6k
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: Thank you for all your feedback!
/
The next thing Santana becomes aware of is the bright lights and irritating beating sounds ringing through her ears.
She groans, turning her head slightly and only moments later, she hears voices invade her room saying she's awake and let's check her over bouncing around as she blinks away the grogginess in her brain. It's like a fucking cloud and it's really fucking hard to bring herself to figure out where the fuck she is and what's going on. The only time she's ever felt like this type of heaviness was when she had her appendix removed when she was a kid, and she puts two and two together and realises she's in hospital.
There's a light flashing across her face, visible from inside her eyelids and she scrunches her face up at the invasion, trying to flinch away but the only thing that makes her flinch is the flash of hot pain in her shoulder.
Fuck. She got fucking shot.
"Santana?" An unfamiliar voice says, pulling her from the memories slowly coming back. "Santana, can you open your eyes for me please?"
With the realisation that she's definitely no longer at school anymore, and most likely in hospital as the guy who's speaking to her is softly spoken in a way that only a doctor is, she obliges and forces her eyes open, wincing at the light again.
"Where is–" Her voices cracks. Shit she needs a glass of water. "Where is everyone?"
The doctor – she was right – flashes a small smile but continues to flash the torch in her eyes. "Your dad is downstairs with your friends."
"Could you get that light out my face?" She groans, voice dry and croaky. "And can I have some water please?"
Doctor Howell – as revealed by his name stitched in light blue on his breast pocket, clicks off his pen torch and slips it into said pocket as he mouths the request for a drink to someone else in the room. "Do you remember what happened to you?"
Santana eyes the blurred pink splodge that walks away and assumes it's the nurse. Her vision is still wavering.
"Yeah," she breathes, memories of the library flashing across her eyes. That last gunshot rings again in her ears and she bites down on her bottom lip, remembering how she shot Jacob. "Did I–"
She tries to say the words kill him but she can't. Her head is far too cloudy to deal with the consequences of accepting she took someone's life, even if they had done it themselves.
"He survived. I performed the surgery," the doctor replies, but there's a hardness in his face that makes Santana wonder if he's mad that he had to save him. Doctor duties and all, even when it comes to a murderer, but Santana's kind of relieved. As much as she would like him dead for what he's done, she doesn't want to have that blood on her hands. She's not sure she could handle that. "And your friend, Puck, is alive too, although he's still in the ICU."
Santana's eyes bug open, and suddenly, she's seeing clearer, reality coming back. The library. Puck threw himself in front of Quinn. He fucking risked his life and Santana feels this strange guilt pang through her for doubting him. Not that he doesn't deserve a kick in the balls still, something she'll make sure to deliver herself when he's better, but his actions show more than some stupid accusation of a bet would and she'll remember that.
It saved her best friends life, after all.
"He's alive?" The doctor nods. "Oh my God," she breathes out, wincing heavily at the pain that sizzles through her when she jigs a little with happiness. "Fuck."
"I'll get you some more painkillers," the doctor follows up with and grabs the chart at the end of her bed, scribbling something down before disappearing out the door with a smile.
She flops back into her head, thoughts of Puck racing through her mind.
/
Diego's got his feet propped up on the end of her bed in the chair beside the hospital bed and they've been chatting for the past ten minutes.
He arrived with a bag of fast food and a very concerned smile on his face, but Santana rolled her eyes at him and sat up, telling him she was a tough girl and she's still kicking, which made him cry. It made her cry in return, and they'd got over their moment with a tight half-hug and then they were diving into their food, normality setting in. There's nothing worse than the muck they serve at hospitals and when Santana chows down her third taco, she's hugely grateful he had the foresight to bring it in, even if piling them in with one arm is proving difficult.
"So, who's been in to visit?"
Apparently, the hospital limits visitation rights to one person at a time, and she's been told she was out cold for a whole day so she has no idea what's happened since she passed out on the library floor or who's even been in her room. Her dad fills her in on the missing parts, having spoken to a couple of her friends, and shifts in his seat, tilting his head to the side in a way that knows what she's really asking.
"Then Brittany came in," he hangs on his sentence, unlike before where he was listing Quinn and Rachel and a few more who'd come to visit. "And Dani after."
Santana gulps against a thickened throat and puts down her fourth taco. Yup, that situation still exists and he's telling her for a reason. Even a bullet to the shoulder won't get her out of the impending doom that's in her future. "Does she know anything?"
"No," Diego responds almost too quickly, putting down the rest of his own taco and dusting his hands off. "But I don't think it's the right time for any of that, mija," he leans forward and puts his hand over hers, laying on the bed, eyes meeting. "You need to take it easy and heal."
She knows that, but she also knows that this entire thing has only made her situation worse. The plan was to take Dani somewhere after school and discuss everything, but now Rachel knows – she saw the kiss – and anyone in that room could've suspected the desperation she felt to protect Brittany.
"I get that but–"
"You need to heal," Diego interrupts, a little more serious. "Dani hasn't left the hospital since you were wheeled in, though."
It makes her feel guilty, which on top of the pain she's in, isn't fantastic. "What about Britt?"
Her dad smiles softly. "I left her alone with you, seemed like she needed it."
If only Santana could hear what the blonde had said to her whilst she was unconscious. All she wants to do right now is see Brittany, to make sure she's okay after all that drama, but she's fully aware that her dad's right. There's a bullet hole in her shoulder and a good few weeks of healing to do before she can face the inevitable emotion pain, which also means she's going to have to lie more, or at least not be completely real with Dani, and hide the emotions that bubble in her chest for Brittany.
"Thank you," she whispers and shifts her eyes to the door where Quinn appears, looking ragged and tired. There are big black bags under her eyes and Santana tilts her head to the side, but then reminds herself that Puck's safe, but he still got shot and it clicks that her friend probably hasn't slept since it happened. Not with the whole dare fiasco being thrown into the mix.
Although the guy did throw himself in front of a bullet. As apologies go, that's a pretty good one.
"I'll leave you with Quinn," Diego presses a kiss to her forehead gently and winks at the blonde at the door as he disappears. "Bye girls."
"Bye Diego," Quinn mutters and slinks into the room, gingerly perching on the end of the bed. "Good to see you awake."
Santana uses her good arm to shift into a more comfortable position. "Good to be awake," she grins. "How's Puck?"
"Better," the blonde replies instantly, like she was expecting the question. She looks down to her lap and focuses on her thumbs, but Santana sees hazel eyes glaze over. "But it was close."
He almost died is what Santana hears, and she shakes her head because this is like a dream. This can't be real, even if the pulsating ache in her shoulder is a sure sign it is real, because this type of thing just doesn't happen. Sure, gun laws are ridiculous in the US and at least 70% of the population owns one – not that she's in that percentile – but shit like that never happens and it's hard to believe she'll be a part of that history forever amongst the other tragic school shootings.
She doesn't argue when Quinn falls into her, arms wrapping around Santana's waist in a half-awkward hug and Santana just lets her, feeling the sobs wrack through the girls chest and heat prickles at her own eyelids. She didn't realise she needed a hug until now, and she gently embraces back, knowing she can't do a huge amount because she has been shot, and it's a good few minutes until she deems it appropriate to respond.
"I think he might deserve to be forgiven after diving in front of a bullet for you," she jokes, unable to endure the intensity of the moment.
Quinn sniffs and leans back, wiping the tears off her cheeks with the back of her sleeve. "Think I have to," she agrees weakly. "Rachel and Dani are downstairs."
Fuck.
Santana freezes, praying that Rachel hasn't said anything but Quinn's giving her this knowing look and she narrows her eyes. "They coming up?" She asks in lieu of asking if her friend knows.
"After I leave, yeah," the blonde hushes and she takes a deep breath before speaking again. "Rachel told me."
There it is.
Santana swallows but forces a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "Told you what?"
"Don't bullshit me," Quinn sighs and tilts her head, hazel eyes understanding but tired. "About Brittany and you in Figgins office."
Santana exhales through her nose and leans back once more. "Quinn–"
"It's not right," the blonde continues and searches brown eyes.
"I know," Santana almost bites the words out. It's not like she doesn't know that, but some things aren't that easy. Of all people she'd thought that Quinn would understand with the whole Puck situation, and it offends her a little because she doesn't need it rubbed in her face. Everything is fucked up as is, and she's going to make it worse at some point, but right now, she won't. So she doesn't need her friend's unwarranted opinion. "But I can't help it."
It's not like she hasn't been torturing herself prior to the shooting scenario, but the moment to reveal all hasn't come up yet and she hasn't even seen Dani or Brittany to speak to either of them. She doesn't know if anything's changed, and it pisses her off a little. The last thing she needs is a lecture, and she's pretty sure her friend's about to deliver one.
"I was going to do something about it after school that day but…" She sucks in a shaky breath. "Well, you know," she gestures to her shoulder. "Plans changed."
Quinn eyes her, but she's chewing on the inside of her cheek like she's trying to figure out a math quiz. "Dani hasn't left the hospital since you got here."
"I fucking know," Santana spits and presses her lips together at the flicker of pain. She really doesn't need this stress right now and her friend is looking at her like she's not going to give up. "Can we just not, though? Let me get out of here before I deal with that."
Quinn opens her mouth, but then there's a disruption and they both look over to the door where Doctor Howell is standing… alongside three other people. It's the best and worst thing Santana's seen since she opened her eyes, because not only is Brittany there, eyes meeting hers and twinkling, but because Dani's right there beside her, eyes full of tears as she bounces in the spot like she wants to force her way into the room and Rachel's hovering in the back.
"Thought we could break the rules a little," Doctor Howell quips and winks at the girls as they move slowly into the room. Santana can't help but tense because she's not sure if anyone heard her and Quinn's conversation. "These three have been hanging around for hours… but only if you feel up to it?"
Santana doesn't know whether to feel guilty or happy, because Brittany stayed, but so has Dani, with Rachel who knows about her and Brittany, and now they're all in the room together with Quinn thrown in who also knows. She genuinely thinks she'd prefer to get shot again over this. Still, she can't exactly say no without having to explain why, and so she flashes a forced smile at the doctor and nods, thanking him with her eyes. Time to face the music.
"Baby," Dani's the first to speak, throwing herself across the room and urging Santana over on the bed to loop an arm around her neck and slide in next to her. She presses small kisses to one side of her face, but brown eyes don't move, instead focused on Brittany who's lingering by the door with Rachel decidedly not looking their way. "I'm so glad you're okay."
"As always," Santana laughs but it's not funny. Nothing about this is funny. "Hi Rach," she continues and eyes her friend, making sure to name her first to not seem so eager when she follows up with the other girl. "Hey Britt."
Brittany's sad smile is back, and she rubs the tip of her sneaker against the floor. "Hey, San," she replies.
"Glad to see you're okay, Santana," Rachel's face is hard, but her voice is soft and Santana's grateful that she's not giving it away too much. Even if she was, Dani's far too pre-occupied with kissing Santana's cheek over and over that she wouldn't notice otherwise.
"Dan," she breathes, leaning away from the kisses. It's awkward, even without the elephant in the room. "I'm still not completely with it," she meets her girlfriends' eyes as they scan her face.
Dani doesn't seem to question it, probably guessing it's because of the pain but luckily Doctor Howell comes to her bedside and pulls up her chart once again. "Bloods are looking normal," he mutters, and Santana looks to Brittany who hasn't moved from the door. He clears his throat and she looks back to him, remembering that she can't just stare at the blonde right now. The hit to the head hasn't done her any good. "And you've got a couple stitches in your forehead, too, so be careful with the affection."
It's a good excuse, one that explains why she was leaning away from her girlfriends' kisses, and she's glad the doctor said that as it's going in the back pocket to use a couple more times in the upcoming future. It's not like she has any other reason, and the echoes of her dad's voice telling her she needs to focus on healing is replaying over and over, regardless of the need to get all of this emotional warfare over with.
"Can I speak with Santana? Alone?" Rachel pipes up and it shouldn't be suspicious, but because of the guilt Santana feels, she instantly feels that way.
Still, no-one questions it, Brittany disappearing without another second – Santana can't blame her as Dani's clutching at her and stroking over her forehead every two seconds – and Quinn flashes a small smile, following the other blonde. Rachel comes up to her bedside, and Santana looks to her girlfriend, who's gnawing at her bottom lip and not registering anything else going on.
"Dani?" Rachel continues and tilts her head to the side. "Is that okay?"
"Is it?"
The question is directed at Santana, who would love Dani to stay if it meant she wouldn't get her ear bitten off by Rachel. There's something uncomfortable sitting between them and it's not fair that she's going to do this barely 24 hours after getting shot. Still, she nods to confirm, unable to voice anything else and looks away before she sees the disappointment in her girlfriends' eyes because she still doesn't know what to do and there's far too much going on right now to take on everything at once. There's no way Dani can't feel something's off between them.
A blind, deaf and dumb person could feel it.
Despite that, Dani doesn't argue and kisses Santana softly on the temple before she slinks off into the hallway, and Santana turns to her friend who's gingerly sitting down on the armchair beside her and rests her hands neatly in her lap. She's wearing a strangely casual outfit – a matching sweatsuit – and if everything wasn't so fucked up, she'd rip into her for it. The girl is usually done up to the nines, and this is just hilarious, but there's no time to even think about how to mock her before Rachel's got that hardness in her eyes that she had back in the principal's office and it scares Santana a little.
"What you're doing isn't fair," Rachel begins and Santana can't help but scoff. Yeah, she's aware. "You need to do something about it because all Dani's done is talk about you and how scared she was that she was going to lose you."
It seems like being shot isn't enough to keep this topic at bay, and it sends guilt shooting through Santana because she can't just hide. She's got to face this and she knows it's not fair, it's like the fucking hundredth time today she's been reminded, but what is she supposed to do? Is there any good way to tell someone that they're into someone else and it just happens to be their best friend? Is there any decent, delicate way to ruin someone's life and break their heart?
"I know," Santana sighs. "I just–"
"How long has it been going on?"
Being cut off by Rachel isn't something she's used to, but then again, is this conversation any different? She would like to argue, or snap at the rude interruption, but Rachel's glaring at her and she's demanding answers, and being Santana's friend, she guesses it's deserved. If Quinn wasn't so occupied with Puck, she'd probably be doing it and after finding out that Quinn knows, they've more than likely discussed their own opinions and Rachel's been the one to have the talk about it.
"Not long." Santana's not exactly lying. They didn't kiss up until recently. "But long enough not to be good."
There's a hand covering hers as she finishes her sentence, and she ducks her chin to her chest, unable to fight the heat at her eyes at the motion. She was expecting to be yelled at, and she was fully prepared for that – braced and all – but the gesture caught her off guard and for a moment, she's thankful that Rachel's having this talk because Quinn would be flicking her in the ear.
"I just–" Santana's voice cracks but she pushes through. "I don't know what to do."
Rachel takes a long breath. "You have to be honest," she answers, and Santana meets her eyes. "If this experience has taught us anything, it's that life can change in a moment," she continues and Santana bites down on her bottom lip, holding back the tears threatening to spill. This is so not what she was expecting. "You can't help who you fall for, but it's better she doesn't just figure it out because honey," she squeezes Santana's hand and presses her lips together. "It's obvious now I know."
It's true, but it doesn't make it easier.
Things don't just work out the way they do in films and it's not going to be easy. There's no way Dani will be as accepting as the fourth ex-fiancée in Runaway Bride that Julie Roberts ditches for Richard Gere, and just walk away from it and hook up with someone who's a better fit. There's no way that Dani will smile and realise that Santana and Brittany are a better fit and congratulate them on finding a real connection.
But Santana knows that it's not fair to keep hiding everything, and Rachel isn't biting her head off telling her that. She's being a fucking friend and making her realise that she's going to have to speak up about what's truthful because concealing it is only going to hurt Dani more. She doesn't need to know the whole truth – just that her and Brittany have something – and it's better that she says it regardless.
"I'll leave you to rest now," Rachel finishes and brushes her palms down her skirt as she rises to her feet. "I'll tell Dani you fell asleep."
She's never been more grateful for Rachel fucking Berry than right now. She never thought that'd happened.
"Thank you," she whispers, emotion gripping her chest.
Rachel flashes a small smile as she swings out the door, leaving Santana alone again.
/
Santana's released the next day.
Diego takes her home, Dani not being happy when he tells her that Santana needs to rest and that she can't come with them, and Santana pretends like she's gutted but she kisses her dad on the cheek when they get in the truck after telling her girlfriend she'll text her later. There's a blue sling donning her right arm, and Doctor Howell told her she needs to wear it for at least six weeks whilst she heals. The bullet was a through-and-through, which is apparently better but there's a long road to recovery in her view and she doesn't realise how inconvenient it'll be until she stumbles up the stoops to her house and can't grab the rail.
She may be left-handed, but now she's just one-handed, her entire body co-ordination is off.
"Careful," Diego utters as he catches her by her good arm before she hits the concrete step. "You're all off balance."
Santana rolls her eyes but laughs and staggers to her feet. "Guess getting shot does that to a person," she retorts and her father clicks her tongue, unamused. "I'm joking, pops."
Her dad shakes his head and opens the front door. "Let's get you on the sofa," he suggests, and Santana agrees, heading into the living room and sitting down slowly at first chance. "Want a water? Or painkillers?"
"Water, please," she responds, shifting carefully to avoid any pain. Navigating life with this pain in her shoulder is going to be interesting, and she realises it when she tries to lean back and the pressure of the pillows on her back jolts her and a sharp sting rackets her body. "Fuck."
There's a knock on the door and she twists her head, but fails miserably because bullet wound, and grunts as her dad's footsteps pad around the back of the sofa and head to the door. Low voices flood her ears, and she eyes the remote, leaning over carefully to grab it and flick on the television. She doesn't even get to bring up the guide before she feels the familiar spike in the air that she's grown to love, even if there's so many reasons why she can't show that love right now.
"Santana," Brittany breathes, and it's polar opposite to how she was in the hospital because she's coming towards Santana like it's the first time she's seen her.
Her eyes are wide, hair tousled in a way that shoots straight to Santana's heart and hugs it, and she slinks down on to the sofa, taking barely a second before she's throwing her arms around Santana and pulling her into a tight embrace. She's wearing that faded jumper that reads Pierce on the breast pocket and Santana almost faints when she presses her nose into the fabric and inhales the blondes heavenly scent.
"Britt," she forces the words out through a hushed tone, mostly because Brittany in this proximity is overwhelming at the best of times, let alone when Santana's doped up still from the hospital and so relieved that the girl's okay. "Britt, I'm okay."
The blonde pulls back, her eyes flickering between brown ones and there's tears threatening to fall from the deep blue. It sucker punches Santana, her heart hurting at the image because as much as she's happy the girl is here, there's so much shit hovering around them that this is only the beginning of a long journey of bullshit before they can sit here without guilt or knowing that it's got to get worse before it gets better.
"I've missed you."
For a second, Santana's heart stops. She lets her eyes fall close at the words, cool relief washing through her because the words just feel so damn right. "God, I've missed you, too," she admits, barely even registering she's said the words until there's hands on her cheeks.
"You were so stupid for squaring up to Jacob," Brittany comments and it's so not what she expected, that Santana stills. Is she about to get told off?
"I'm okay, though," she argues.
Brittany cocks her eyebrow up, lips pressing together. "You got shot, dummy."
It makes the situation a little lighter, and that's one of the reasons why Santana feels the way she does about the girl. Everything is just so easy around her. Even the oxygen feels cleaner somehow and nothing has ever evoked such a reaction out of her, and she thinks that even if she got shot somewhere else or like, came super close to death, she wouldn't regret doing it because it meant that the gun wasn't pointed at Brittany.
"Well, it's done now," she settles on, instead of the truth. There's too much crap lingering to discuss feelings.
The blonde rolls her eyes, but there's a smile playing at her lips. "Thank you," she whispers, like she already knows the truth and it scares Santana, but in a good way. Like when she was at Six Flags when she was younger at the top of the tallest rollercoaster; the fall was coming but she was excited for the rush. "You wanna order a Chinese and watch Lost?"
It's the best thing she's heard since she woke up at the hospital, and even though she'd love to jump at the chance, she does know she should be healing, and her dad made a point to not allow Dani over because she should be resting. Although, watching TV and eating junk food isn't really that strenuous, and when her dad pops his head round the corner and winks, she loves him that little bit more because maybe this was his plan. She wasn't the one who let Brittany know she was home.
"Sure," Santana agrees and revels in the fluttering that occurs in her chest at the thought of being with Brittany for the next few hours.
All the shit can wait.
/
They're four episodes deep before they're interrupted.
Santana's got her legs stretched out over Brittany's, they're draped over each other in a way that's a little too close to be just friends, but Santana's hurting and she's relaxed around her which is helping. Just the comfort of having the girl here is making her feel at ease in a way that no-one else could, plus the blonde keeps getting here everything she wants from the kitchen snack wise and she's secretly enjoying being spoiled.
Anyway, there's a few sharp knocks on the front door and Diego coughs as he makes his way in. He's got a kitchen rag over his shoulder and for the moment the wonder of what her dad's burning on the stove runs through her mind but is swiftly removed when he waves her off and shakes his head.
"Stay there, girls, I got it," he says and rubs his hands together before pulling open the door. "Dani?" He straightens up, like a kid that's just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar and Santana freezes.
There's a second where Brittany doesn't click, and Santana watches the girls face, mouth wide open – pausing to admire her profile because God damn – but then there's blue eyes staring back at her and reality sinks in. They've been so caught up in watching television and just enjoying being around each other that they forget there's an outside world, and Santana panics as she whips her head around, ignoring the sharp hot pain that surges through her shoulder and desperately searches for her phone.
There's no way Dani would've just turned up without texting Santana.
"Fuck," she whispers, removing herself away from Brittany so fast she misses the way the blonde's face falls. She flicks through her phone and sees a few missed calls from her girlfriend and a couple texts, taking in the concerned questions that were left unread and unanswered. "Shit."
Brittany visibly panics, choosing to slide down on to the floor and keeping low – which in a few days' time, it's going to be hilarious to remember because she's on all fours and crawling across the floor – but right now, it seems like the most intense moment of Santana's life. She swallows thickly, pulling herself up straight on the sofa with her good arm and forces herself to breathe as she hears the whispers of Santana's asleep right now, Dani, coming from the front door.
It won't work – Dani's insistent and usually gets what she wants – and Santana knows that her dad is only buying them a couple minutes. No-one stands at the front door asking for too long, especially when that person is a pushy cheerleader trying to check in on her heavily injured girlfriend. This is so not the situation Santana was hoping for and she doesn't get to process much before there's a fumble behind her and she's turning around, doing her best not to look like a deer in the headlights as Dani rushes into the room and settles on Santana.
Fuck.
"Baby," Dani half-moans, falling into the sofa and wrapping her arms around her. "I was so worried about you," she muffles into the fabric of Santana's tee.
Santana – who has barely moved since hearing her girlfriends voice at the front door – takes the quickest moment to flick her eyes across the room to the space on the floor where Brittany was crawling and takes note of the light breeze coming from the kitchen door in the back. During the state of shock, the blonde must've seen herself out and Santana lets out a long sigh of relief as she kicks in her senses and manages to wrap her arm around the girl draped over her.
"I'm sorry," she whispers into Dani's hair, and whereas before she'd enjoy the smell of coconut and aloe vera, she finds herself wrinkling her nose because it's just not the same as the strawberry scent she's become accustomed to over the past few hours.
The sweetness of the familiar fruit is a smell that's wrapped itself around her chest, imprinting on her scent memory and guilt thrums through her because Dani doesn't deserve to know how drastically Santana's feelings have changed. She doesn't deserve to hear about it just yet, and honestly, Santana doesn't have the energy to have this conversation right now.
So, she's got to pretend.
Again.
(Just differently, this time.)
"I fell asleep on the couch," she explains, dropping a light kiss to dark hair. Dani pulls back and their eyes meet, and she sucks in a shaky breath. Thankfully, she can blame it on the pain in her shoulder, even though it's a different type of pain she's feeling. "But I'm okay."
Dani's eyes are dark and full of tears. "I thought something might've happened," she shrugs in a way that makes her seem so small and vulnerable and Santana curses the day Jacob Ben Israel chose violence at McKinley because she fears the potential loss of life has only enhanced her girlfriends' feelings for her. It's something she's familiar with, because the sheer panic she felt when Brittany was locked in that damn toilet was the same and all this guilt isn't going to help her healing process.
Fuck. When did everything get so complicated?
"No, I'm okay," Santana settles on, pushing a lock of dark hair behind her girlfriend's ear. "How are you?"
Dani's eyes briefly flit behind Santana, who puts everything she has into not twisting around to see if Brittany didn't leave and is instead staring at the intimacy going on in the living room, but her girlfriend is staring at her after barely a second. Sure, that was a bit odd, but if the blonde was stood there and they had just been caught, she's sure she'd be adding to her near-death experiences.
"Better now," Dani answers after a long second and Santana feels the cool wash of relief sliding through her veins. Brown eyes slide back to her own. "What were you watching?"
The other girl settles into her side, turning her body more so she's facing the television and Santana adjusts, getting rapidly tired of the ache that pulses through her body at every movement, but she knows she got off lightly as it wasn't life threatening. Although the need she has to grab her phone and text Brittany, make sure she got home safe, is almost too much, but she knows she can't.
It's just not the right time.
"Everything okay, ladies?" Diego interrupts, and Santana shoots him a thankful smile. He tips his head down in acknowledgement, and Dani twists around, putting a small amount of distance between them.
"Yes, thank you, Diego," she smiles sweetly. "I'm sorry if I pushed past you–"
"No need to apologise, I understand," he retorts and holds his hands up, face soft. He leans against the doorway and looks between the girls. "You just wanted to see her."
Dani presses a small kiss to Santana's cheek. "I did," she whispers and meets older dark eyes. "But I'm still sorry."
Santana shifts awkwardly, feeling like she isn't even in the room, but Diego meets her stare and bobs his head, saying a thousand things in the look they exchange. She's still not completely with it. The shock of Dani turning up whilst Brittany was here is still occupying half of her brain whilst the other half is concentrated on not frantically glancing around to see if there's any trace of her girlfriend's best friend.
She'd have no clue how to explain it.
"I'll be upstairs, if you need me, mija," Diego interrupts her thoughts, and she blinks a few times to bring herself back to reality.
"Okay, pops," she tries to sound as cool as possible as it's the first time she's spoken in at least three minutes, and it must come across as intended because Diego flashes a smile at Dani who cuddles back up into Santana's side and continues watching Lost on television. He doesn't buy it, evident by his raised brow but again, it's not the time for questions.
He disappears up the stairs without another hesitation and Santana gets comfortable, still not feeling one hundred percent but knowing this is something she's going to have to get used to for the foreseeable future. Her dad's words keep ringing in head that there's a certain way to deliver a blow like she's going to have to, and she needs to prioritise her healing regardless of the last few events between her and Brittany – events that have conjured up more questions than they've answered – have pretty much changed everything as she knew it.
Dani's not a bad person either. She's not an evil, conniving bitch and she doesn't deserve to be hurt in the way she's going to. If there was anything else Santana could do, maybe reverse time or get Dani to break up with her – no wait, that's a chicken shit move – but it would still prevent Dani from hurting as much. Nothing in the world could prepare her for dealing with the fact that Santana and Brittany just have a stronger connection, a more genuine one.
They're just compatible. Like two opposite ends of two magnets, they're drawn to each other.
Santana wasn't prepared for it, so how the fuck could Dani be?
"Where are you?"
It breaks her from her thoughts and she takes her eyes off the television screen she was paying zero attention to look down at her girlfriend. "Nowhere babe," she replies and forces a smile on her face. "Just thinking about everything."
Dani clicks her tongue in a sympathetic way and her face contorts with concern. "You've been through a lot, San," she breathes and strokes a single finger down the side of a tanned cheek. "But you're safe now and got out relatively untouched."
"Apart from being shot, you mean," Santana quips back and Dani smiles, and for a second it feels good.
It feels like Santana will be able to go along with this, but then something kicks the back of her mind and all she can think about is the fact it's short lived and there's unimaginable pain at the end of that road. There's no way she can continue this with Dani after what happened with Brittany at the motel, and especially after that kiss in Figgins office, and just all of it, even if there is something about Dani that softens her. She wouldn't have dated her otherwise.
"Well yeah," the cheerleader continues. Her finger stops its movement on Santana's cheek and she cups it instead with her palm. "I was so scared I was going to lose you."
Okay, now it's just not fair. Santana's already tormenting herself internally, and frankly everything that Dani is saying is just intensifying her thoughts. Judging by the fact that Dani actually pushed her way past Diego, and has been watching Lost for the past ten minutes, she isn't going anywhere tonight and Santana doesn't know if she'll be able to get through this much, so quickly after all the other fucked up shit that's happened in the past week.
Maybe she should've been resting instead of Brittany coming over. Maybe she should really be prioritizing herself because she's doing a shit poor job of it now.
Fuck.
She has no idea what she's doing.
"I was scared, too," Santana urges out, choosing that sleep is the right thing to do and honestly, she's fucking exhausted. It's all just a little too much to deal with, so she drops a single kiss to Dani's forehead and settles back into the sofa, resting her temple against the cushion squashed between her side and the couch. "I'm gonna try and sleep a bit more, if that's okay?"
Dani's eyes flit all over Santana's face, and there's some question lingering behind them. Santana would have to be blind not to see it, but she can feel the dull ache at the back of her eyelids and the heaviness of the current events make her want to go back into a fucking coma. At least she wouldn't have to deal with all of this until she was healed. Getting shot in the shoulder and the heart in two very different ways kind of takes it out of a person.
"No problem, sweetie," Dani muffles against her lips as she returns the favour, burying her head underneath Santana's neck as she turns her attention back to the television. "I love you, you know."
Santana smiles weakly. She knows. That's half the problem.
"I do," she draws, letting her eyes fall as fatigue pulls over her.
/
A couple of hours later, Diego comes back downstairs and announces that Santana needs to get her rest; a subtle way of telling Dani she needs to leave.
Santana's barely focused on the last few episodes of Lost after Dani kept shifting and kissing her cheek to keep her awake after rudely disturbing her slumber, instead pulling a poker face and wondering how she could sneak off to the bathroom to text Brittany without Dani being suspicious. However, the guilt got the better of her, knowing that she wouldn't really know what to say to the blonde, and it was a welcome interruption when her dad appeared behind them and half-scared her to death.
She'd yelped in pain, Dani had dramatically smothered her with empathetic kisses around her face and Diego had apologised profusely, but it had given her the opportunity to hide the excitement with genuine agony and hurried her girlfriend out the door. Which, yeah, wasn't exactly the nicest thing to do, but she wanted to check in on Brittany and been withholding the urge to, and honestly, she was fucking tired.
Anyway, she kisses Dani from the sofa and the girl pleads with her eyes to stay, but Santana really does need to rest – gunshot, remember – and she'd like to restore normality as soon as possible because she's already getting bored of being an invalid. The most useful thing she can do right now is block the draught coming in from the bottom of the door and she'd like to get back to school and work.
Even though that comes with the responsibility of sorting out this messy love triangle, so in some way she's also appreciative for the wound for delaying the inevitable. She still has no idea how she's going to deal with it. This whole Brittany running out the back door thing whilst Dani entered through the front, nearly putting Santana into cardiac arrest, and that's just the tip of the iceberg.
Still, she maintains the girlfriend of Dani position and bids her goodbye, accepting the kisses her girlfriend gives her on the sofa and watches as she blows kisses at the door and disappears out of it.
"Everything okay, mija?"
Santana slowly sinks back into the sofa, wincing at the pain again, and decides that getting shot is not as easy as the movies make it out to be. Half of the people that get shot in them are still basically fully functional, even when they get shot in the leg or some shit, yet she's been beamed in the shoulder once and she's almost incapable of doing anything that isn't sitting fucking still. 50 Cent got shot nine fucking times and is still out there making terrible rap music.
"You mean, besides the gunshot wound and that Brittany had to escape out the back door because Dani turned up?" She retorts. "Yeah, just fantastic."
Diego purses his lips together, moving around the sofa to stand in front of her. "What's going on between you two?"
Santana rolls her eyes, feeling instantly guilty for giving her dad some attitude but she feels like she's allowed to. Everything's been a tad fucking overwhelming, and on top of that, she gets super grumpy when she's tired and she's flat out exhausted. Being out cold for a few days apparently didn't give her the rest she would've assumed with being half-comatose. If anything, it's actually more tiring – like jet lag. It just eats at her brain.
"I don't even know anymore," she replies and lets her head fall back against the couch. She's not sure if her dad meant what's going on between her or Brittany, or her and Dani – but they have the same answer. She doesn't fucking know. "It's all so messed up."
"You need to heal first, Santana," he states, but instead of being soft and caring like it was at the hospital, it's hard and she can see the fatherly side kicking into touch. He's always been her best friend, and sometimes she forgets his actual role in her life. "All this stress isn't making it any easier on yourself."
Santana knows that, and that's the most problematic part. How is she supposed to deal with all of this if she can't be normal around Brittany when Dani's around, but she can't be sneaking around with Brittany behind Dani's back because that's just a dick move and that she has to keep playing happy families with Dani after what's went down in the motel halfway to DC.
Not to mention she can't actually do any running because of the fucking bullet hole in her God damn shoulder, so she's more like juggling in wet cement, hoping that one of those balls doesn't drop.
"I need to go to sleep," she says in lieu of a response. "I'm tired."
Diego studies her for a few seconds, the side of his lip pinching up and Santana meets his eye, silently pleading to drop it. Tonight's been bad enough without a lecture or her dad telling her it's how you handle the pain that matters, because she knows, and it isn't making it any easier. There's nothing easy about anything going on in her life, and the best thing she can do is go to sleep, focus on healing and just deal with the shit as it comes.
Although hopefully there will be no need for Brittany to crawl out the back door again. Santana can only imagine what's going to come of that.
"I'll get you some painkillers," Diego settles on, scuttering off into the kitchen, and she breathes a little easier. At least he can sense the urge to not discuss this right now. "Here you go," he offers out the hand, appearing almost out of nowhere and Santana swallows them, smiling weakly as her dad hands her a glass of water to wash them down with. "You gonna sleep down here?"
The thought of dragging herself up those stairs seems too much. "If that's okay," she murmurs and twists her legs up, carefully manoeuvring until she's laying down. Her dad pulls the blanket off the armchair in the corner and drapes it over her, flicking off the top light and on the small lamp by the window. It creates a low glow, and she breathes in deeply as fatigue scratches at her eyeballs.
"Goodnight, Santana," Diego drops a kiss to her forehead and pushes back her hair with his hand, before meeting her eye. "I'm not trying to tell you what to do, I just want you to get better."
"I know," she breathes and buries the side of her face into a cushion. His concern is only out of love, she knows. "Love you."
Her father pauses at the doorway and she feels his stare despite the fact her eyelids are far too heavy to be lifted right now. "Love you, baby."
She barely gets to register the sound of her dad climbing the stairs before she picks up her phone and shoots Brittany a text.
But the reply doesn't come, and soon enough after an hour of battling her eyelids, the exhaustion wins and she drifts off to sleep.
/
In the morning, Santana's awoken to the smell of bacon and eggs.
She stretches her good arm above her head, welcoming the loud clicks as her spine pops back into place and with extreme agony – as the painkillers have worn off – climbs to her feet and pads over to the kitchen. Her dad is standing by the stove, chewing on a slice of bacon as he dances to the 80s radio station and she laughs quietly, sliding on to the nearest stool and begins to struggle pouring herself a glass of orange juice.
Diego notices the scrape of the stool on the linoleum, spinning around with a large smile and pearly whites and grabs an empty plate from the kitchen counter, forking out a couple pieces of bacon and a few eggs and brings it over to her. He takes over the poor attempt of Santana trying to get a drink and she smiles weakly, already getting tired of not being able to do stuff herself. She hasn't even considered taking a shower or going to the loo and hopes that her ambidextrous ability kicks in hard.
"You'll get used to it, mija," Diego interrupts. "Back in high school, I tore the ligament in my shoulder and was out for ten weeks," he explains, dishing up his own breakfast and taking a seat beside her. "And you'll be healed before you know it."
"It can't come soon enough," she explains and begins tucking in, swallowing the winning breakfast combination and humming at the low warmth that settles in her stomach. For a guy who can't cook much, he sure makes breakfast well. "What's the plan today?"
"The plan?"
Santana takes a long sip of juice and eyes her dad. "Yeah, like what are we doing?"
"We," Diego puts his fork back down and takes her hand. "Aren't doing anything. You are going to heal."
Santana groans loudly. "I can't stay at home all the time, I'll go mad."
Her father laughs throatily and shakes his head, patting her hand before returning to his food. "You can survive a couple days on bedrest before you go back to school," he says, but it sounds more like a demand than a suggestion. "I'll even let you have my credit card for takeaways."
The thought of which takeaway she's going to order first flits through her mind, but she knows it's just a tactic to make her feel a little better and battles the urge to know that yeah, it would make a shittier day less shitty. However, the thought that she also has to go back to school in a couple of days makes her gut turn, because she really doesn't know what it's going to be like. Everything has changed since she was there, not only emotionally with the whole Dani and Brittany thing but for other reasons too.
The last time Santana was in that place, she was getting shot in the shoulder and Jacob Ben Israel went trigger happy there, and she can't say she's excited.
So okay, maybe a few days bedrest and feeling sorry for herself may not be that bad. Plus, she still hasn't taken advantage of the pool in the back yard. She used to swim all the time as a kid, and she's sure that if she can waterproof her wound somehow, she could at least dip her feet in the water or keep the upper half dry and wade around in the shallows. Not immediately, obviously, but in a few days, perhaps.
"Okay," she sighs, knowing defeat but knowing the pros. Diego grins and scrunches his nose at her as if to say thank you for not arguing. "I'm using the pool, though."
"Just don't get your bandages wet," he replies, and she was half expecting more of a battle but okay, she's cool with that.
/
Santana mopes around the house for the next few hours.
She's been keeping a sharp eye on her cell, which is yet to beep with a reply from Brittany and beeped over ten times with messages from Dani. Keeping to the knowledge she needs to prioritise herself and continue pretending that this messy love triangle isn't there, she sends a few reassuring replies and keeps her girlfriend at bay. If she knows her well enough and judging by the fact Dani basically barged her way through the front door last night, it won't last for long, but hopefully it's enough time that Brittany will reply to her.
Although, after not watching the last few episodes of Lost that have been playing in the background, Santana decides to follow up. She picks up her phone and flicks down to Brittany's name, swiftly pressing the call button and brings it to her ear. The dial rings and she chews nervously on her bottom lip, eagerly awaiting to hear the soft voice that she knows is like a drug to her; she's addicted to anything that's Brittany related, and she's been champing at the bit to speak to her after the quick exit the blonde had to make last night.
But there's no answer. The line just rings out and Santana furrows her brow, pulling her phone away from her face and throwing it down the bed as she hangs up. She doesn't know why Brittany's not speaking to her. She technically didn't do anything wrong, but she knows that it was another close call and there's a long ass list of moments like that forming and that'll be another thing to deal with. This isn't going to be easy on Brittany, or Santana, but her main concern is the wellbeing of the blonde.
How can she make this better? Especially when she's fucking crippled.
Brown eyes flicker to the clock on the wall, reading the time to be after six, and there's a quick debate in her head of how badly Diego will tell her off if she skips out the house considering she promised him she'd use the next few days for bedrest and would yell at her about interrupting the healing process, but there was never really hesitation and she's grabbing the bottle of painkillers of her desk, swallowing two and hightailing it out the front door, jacket in hand.
/
Luckily, Brittany's house isn't too far.
Santana's sure it's actually longer in the truck to get here, but she's also half-buzzed off the painkillers she took before she left the house, and her brain has been so fried with thoughts of what she's going to say to the blonde that the journey may have just blurred past. But she gets there, standing at the large gates that are closed as it's before dark, and hesitates as her finger hovers over the buzzer.
She hasn't been here since the whole Rick Pierce cheating scandal, after that night in the motel, and she hasn't exactly had time to catch up on the ins and outs of what actually happened, but her mind as been otherwise occupied. Still, it feels a little awkward, but she pushes past it and presses down, listening to the few beeps before an unfamiliar voice comes down the other end.
It's a woman, with a thick Spanish accent. "Pierce residence."
Santana clears her throat and grips her jacket tighter. The cold air is making her tense and therefore making her shoulder hurt a hell of a lot more. If it hadn't, she'd wonder if this was like, a maid or something, because they sure are rich enough, but she doesn't remember Brittany mentioning they had like, servants or anything. Maybe she wouldn't like the connotations that would come with it.
"Is Brittany in, please?"
There's a moment of silence. "Does Miss Brittany know you're coming?"
In the background she hears someone else speaking and there's a second before the gates buzz and swing open without her even saying a word. Santana removes her hand away from the buzzer and waits until there's enough room for her to slip through. She makes her way up the driveway and heads to the large front doors, where only a few seconds later, it opens to reveal a little old lady with large glasses who eyes her suspiciously.
"Miss Brittany is on the phone, but Mr Pierce recognised you on the camera, so he said to let you in," the lady says, eyes narrowed. "But I'm watching you."
In any other situation where her shoulder wasn't killing, Santana would ask why she's been studied like a common thief and ask to know who the hell this old crow is, but she nods instead and makes her way around the woman and up the large set of stairs that she's only seen once and comes to a huge hallway. There's like, at least ten doors leading off the various rooms and she's so overwhelmed with the choice that she doesn't register the sound of footsteps coming up behind her until there's a voice saying her name.
"Santana Lopez, I assume," the man behind her booms and she spins around to find Rick Pierce standing there. He's dressed in dark slacks and a pyjama shirt, looking wholly different to the way Santana's used to seeing him online or on television. He's usually so well put together, but she supposes this is his house and the senator appearance isn't a constant. Even celebrities dress down sometimes.
"Mr Pierce," she blurts out, clenching her jaw against the pain that rackets through her shoulder. She's going to need to sit down soon. "Nice to meet you."
Rick's eyes fall down her body, lingering at the sling wrapped around her torso and back up again to her eyes. He's got grey hair, which is strange considering he's in his mid-forties, a short colour matching beard and well, he's kind of a silver fox. His eyes are a piercing blue – nowhere near as incredible as Brittany's, but close – and he's in good shape. Sure, Santana's seen him in pictures, but seeing someone in person is totally different.
"And you," he draws out. "I'm surprised to see you out the hospital so soon. Brittany told me you were injured during the shooting."
Santana offers a half-smile. "Yeah," she winces at the memory. "But I've always healed quicker than modern medicine dictates."
Rick pauses. "I see," he responds and the whole conversation is a little cold and awkward and Santana wonders if the guy is pissed about driving Brittany halfway to Washington to see if he was cheating. Considering he didn't, it would be odd if he was, but she doesn't regret it and wouldn't change it if she could. "Brittany's room is on the left, three doors down."
His eyes flicker behind Santana and she nods, smiling gratefully as she backs away slowly. She must have said or done something right or he wouldn't be offering the directions to his daughter's bedroom, but he doesn't seem to chatty so she takes her leave and makes her way down the hallway until she comes to Brittany's bedroom. She raps her knuckles on the door three times before pushing it open and she becomes aware of the blonde talking.
"I've just got a few assignments to do, that's all."
Santana frowns and pauses. It sounds like she's on the phone.
"No, no, I'm okay, Dani," Brittany says and Santana freezes. Shit. "Look, I gotta go, okay? Okay, love you, bye."
She takes the following ten seconds of silence as a sign to enter and knocks lightly before pushing the door open wider. Brittany calls come in and Santana peers round the corner, her shoulder now hurting like hell as she sees the blonde sitting at her desk, pointedly not seeing who's entering her room.
"Britt," Santana croaks out, and the blonde snaps her head around, eyes wide at the sight of her and darts across the room, cradling her gently but there's something in her face that doesn't pass Santana's notice.
"Oh my God," the blonde says, searching over her like she's looking for more wounds. "What are you doing here?" She breathes, pulling her over to the bed.
Santana groans and allows Brittany to manhandle her as she climbs on to the bed. Her head hits the pillow, and she finally relaxes, feeling the sting of her injury thrumming through her body as she looks over the blondes face and feels peace come over her. She probably should've listened to her dad because this was definitely too strenuous for her first outing. Perhaps a walk to the end of the road would've been more suitable.
But she can still see something behind blue eyes. Something that in the back of her mind, registers in a negative manner. What the hell is it? Is she bleeding or something?
"I just needed to see you," Santana spills out, knowing the exhaustion is removing any filter she might have with Brittany.
Blue eyes search her face, but the blondes' eyes aren't as bright as usual. "That was Dani on the phone."
Santana gulps. Shit. What did they talk about? "Did you two argue?"
"No," the blonde replies, dropping her gaze to the comforter beneath her. She's not touching Santana anymore and it's making her feel all kinds of uneasy because there's a shift in that air that even she can feel through the distraction of pain. Despite Brittany launching across the room, she registered that something in the air wasn't right. Brittany looked so defeated when Santana walked in. "The opposite, actually."
She doesn't know what that means, but she can sense it isn't good. Brittany isn't being her normal self, but she can't really blame her. She almost walked in and exposed that she was over Brittany's house whilst Dani was on the phone, as well as almost being caught last night back at the Lopez residence and everything about those incidents aren't okay. Nothing about their relationship is okay, not whilst Santana is still dating Dani and Brittany is still best friends with the girl.
And she thinks she knows where this is going, but she needs to find out for sure.
"Britt," she breathes, considerably more alert than she was a moment ago. She leans up on her good elbow and meets blue eyes. "What's going on?"
Brittany chooses not to respond, her hair hanging over her face and all Santana wants to do is brush it back and pull her gaze up, but there's something stopping her. She's been involved with enough girls to know her suspicions are more than just suspicions, but if she even thinks about it, she's going to break. The last thing she wants right now is to cool things off with Brittany, even though there's a part of her that can see why the blonde would do something like that. The pressure would lessen.
But Santana can deal with the pressure. Diamonds are made under pressure, and this thing between them is like finding a diamond in the rough.
"I just–" Brittany starts but there's a choke that stops her words. Fuck. "I don't think we should do this…" She trails off, and a single tear drops on to her hands where they're playing with the comforter. She takes a deep breath and steels herself, and Santana feels a crack inside her chest. No. She doesn't want this. But she can't move, can't speak. "We just need some time… With everything."
It's exactly what Santana suspected, but the pain it brings almost makes the gunshot wound seem like a walk in the park. Her chest restricts, the heat forms at the back of her eyelids but she holds her eyes on blonde hair because she knows Brittany wouldn't be able to say this if she was looking at her. There's no way she could be denying the connection between them and putting a halt on it because it's like a hurricane – it's too strong to fight. The results are inevitable, and Santana knows that, so why doesn't Brittany?
"Brittany," Santana counters, her voice weak. "What are you–"
The blonde finally looks up. "I can't do this to Dani," she admits and yup, that hurt. "Not anymore."
Santana has issues with being vulnerable, and because all she wants to do is scream and yell that she'll break up with Dani immediately even though she can't, she forces herself to swallow the instant defence that threatens to spill and takes a moment to put herself in Brittany's shoes, knowing it isn't fair. She knows that she's not the only one suffering. She knows that Brittany's torn up because she's the best damn person in this miserable, stinking world and she wouldn't want to hurt her best friend, or even an ant, for anything. This whole thing between them – whilst it's been magical – has so far come without consequences and they're both old enough to know that they can't dodge them forever.
And sneaking around behind Dani's back isn't the right thing to do.
So, she forces herself to swallow every objection that bubbles up her throat. She bites down on her tongue until she feels like it could bleed because she knows that Brittany isn't taking this lightly – evident by the low sobs now coming from her and the continuous tears dropping on the bed – and clambers to her feet. In a couple of hours' time, she'll wonder why she thought this was a good idea, but she can't find it in herself to feel anything, but heartbreak and she needs to get out of here. There's no real objection she could make that would change it anyway; Brittany's a good person and this is the right thing to do for now.
Even if it feels so fucking wrong.
"I get it," Santana gets out, clenching her fist on her good arm and staring down at Brittany from where she's now stood at the door. "But this isn't the end."
Blue eyes are bright with tears and shock, and the tips of Brittany's ears are pink from hearing something she wasn't quite expecting, and despite this feeling very close to a break-up, Santana knows that they can still bounce back from that if they handle it right. In the past, she's been told she's got a vicious tongue and happens to react to situations negatively, but she wants this more than anything. She wants Brittany more than anything and so she fights every natural instinct to put those walls back up around her heart and takes one large breath before she turns around and swings open the bedroom door.
The last thing she hears before she leaves is Brittany crying.
/