A/N: Hi again everyone!
Again, disclaimer disclaimer, I don't own anything.
So this takes place about a year after the previous chapter, December of their senior year in college, a little before finals (everyone's 21-22ish). Enjoy, and I apologize in advance for the angst. You have been warned.
S
Chapter 3: Wine After Whiskey
"Santana! I come bearing Thai food and ice cream! Get your head out of that book and come relax for an hour!"
God. Berry.
"Fine, I'm coming, I'm coming! What do you want?"
When Santana reached the kitchen, she noticed first, that Berry hadn't gotten the disgusting vegan ice cream substitute she usually got, but real Ben and Jerry's Mint Chocolate Cookie, second, that she looked waaaaay too happy to be happy for real (she might be a Broadway sensation for her performing, but her acting still tended to be a little over the top) and third, that there were no movies on the coffee table. Thai food and movies, it had become a "don't kill yourself before finals" tradition for them. Something was up.
"What's up, Berry?" She asked, in a slightly more restrained tone.
"Sit down Santana, we need to talk."
...
Earlier that day:
Rrrriiiing…Rrrriiiing…click
"Hello?"
"Rachel? It's Brittany."
"Brittany! To what do I owe the pleasure? It's been too long! Did Santana lose her phone? I can have her call you tonight when I get home if you want―"
"You know we haven't spoken in over a year Rachel." Brittany sounded defeated, like there was something other than her and Santana's lack of communication weighing on her mind.
"Yeah. I know." Rachel was quiet for a moment.
"Is something wrong Brittany?" She hears sniffs on the other line.
"I know you're going to think it's really weird that I called you and not any of my friends here, or Quinn because she might know what to do, but I really wanted to talk to Santana and I can't so then I called you because you're the closest person to her right now that I talk to, other than Kurt and he's a boy, even if he is a unicorn, he wouldn't understand."
"Well, I promise I'll try to understand and maybe be helpful, but you'll have to inform me of the problem first―"
"I'm pregnant. Please, I don't want Santana to hear it through the grapevine in six months, could you tell her? Pretend you heard while you were in Lima last weekend or something? I just-I can't-I wouldn't know what to say to her."
"What are you going―"
"I'm keeping it."
"And the father?"
"Wants nothing to do with it. I don't care. I don't want his money. I can do it myself. Just tell her for me, ok? I'll keep you updated, and put it in the email chain in a few months."
"O-ok."
"Thanks Rachel." Click.
...
Santana stared at Rachel with wide eyes.
"Pregnant?"
Rachel nodded.
"I'm going to bed. I don't have any classes tomorrow, I work at 9. I'll talk to you when I get home from work. Don't even look at me until then, if you want to keep your eyes. Clear?"
Rachel nodded again; the concerned look in her eyes told Santana that she knew that the threats were just her way of covering up how hurt she was. That Brittany was pregnant, that she wouldn't tell her herself, that she insisted on doing it alone. She grabbed the ice cream, stopped to get a spoon and an almost full bottle of whiskey out of the kitchen, and walked into her room.
...
Bzzzzzzzzz… Bzzzzzzzzzz…smack! Crash.
Santana groaned. She just wanted to stop the buzzing, she didn't mean to smack the alarm and throw it across the room, honest.
The pounding in her skull only got worse when she sat up. She grabbed her phone off of her nightstand. 7:30 p.m.
She sat it back on her nightstand and realized a.) why she'd slept all day, and b.) why she felt like there was a tiny person inside her head with a mallet.
The bottle of whiskey she'd grabbed last night was empty. Next to it was a Gatorade and a bottle of aspirin. God bless Rachel Berry.
She took the pills and chugged the Gatorade, knowing she had to be at least semi functional and look decent for work, and that she'd feel almost human after a shower.
Her routine took a little longer than it usually did, but she still managed to catch the subway in time to get to work on time. She shoved all thoughts of the previous day out of her mind, and waltzed in, right on time.
She had found a job about six months earlier as a singer at a quiet jazz bar; her smoky voice and penchant for jazz and soul made her an instant hit with the owner when she'd auditioned, and since she no longer had to work during the day, she'd been able to take on a full time class load and would only be graduating a semester late.
Taking the stage, she surveyed the Thursday night crowd. There was barely anyone there, a few men brooding into their drinks, a couple in the corner who looked like they could care less what she sang, and a woman at the bar who looked to be watching her. Her features were hidden in the low light, but Santana looked at her a moment longer anyway.
Santana loved nights like this, because she could take a few more liberties with her song choices; quiet and mellow was god on nights like this, people wanted something that would fade into the background. She was well into her set when she thought of the perfect song for tonight. It wasn't exactly jazz, but it was slow enough that it could pass, with her style. She whispered to the piano played, and he struck up the tune.
She took a deep breath, and let everything she'd felt in the last 24 hours wash over her. One more night of self-pity, and she'd be done. She wouldn't think of it again.
"Once upon a time
Our world was on fire,
And I loved to watch it burn.
Wild and reckless,
Never any limits.
Guess I had a lot to learn.
'Cause fire turns to embers,
Embers to ashes,
That blow away too soon.
Now everything after you
Is like having wine after whiskey.
It went from
'Do anything for you, babe,' to
You don't even miss me.
Once you've tasted a love that strong,
You can't go back, and
You can't settle on anything less
And that's what gets me.
It's like having wine after whiskey."
Santana looked around the club for the first time since she started the song, and noticed that she'd killed even the small buzz of conversation that had been present before. Everyone was riveted by the obvious pain in the roughness of her voice. She managed a small smile and continued.
"Looking back
I guess it's really for the best.
Still, you're something that I crave.
Even though I know
I was right to let you go,
You're a habit hard to break.
I got used to being high
And nothing that I try
Seems good enough right now,
It's all so watered down.
It's like having wine after whiskey.
It went from,
'Do anything for you, babe,' to
You don't even miss me.
Once you've tasted a love that strong,
You can't go back and
You can't settle on anything less,
And that's what gets me.
It's like having wine after whiskey.
Once you've tasted a love that strong,
You can't go back and
You can't settle on anything less,
And that's what gets me.
It's like having wine,
It's like having wine after whiskey."
As the final piano noted faded, she signaled to her boss that she was taking her break to a smattering of applause from the nearly empty club. She sat down at the bar, and their bartender Jeremy set down a glass of red wine in from of her.
"I didn't order anything, you know I'm not supposed to drink on the job."
"I know, it's from her," he gestured at the brunette woman who looked like she was getting up to come over. "I tried to tell her, but she insisted. It's good, she said to get you a glass of the best, most expensive port we had."
He walked away as the woman sat down in the stool next to Santana.
"So who broke your heart?"
Santana looked startled at the woman's forwardness, and didn't answer.
"Because you can't sing a song like that without it being about somebody. That was the most amazing performance I've seen in a long time."
Santana studied the woman. She was short, probably about her own height, with caramel brown hair curled to frame her face, which was pale with a smattering of freckles across her nose. The most captivating thing about her, though, was her eyes, deep green with a ring of gold flecked around her pupils. She was attractive, Santana thought.
"Usually," she spoke slowly, "I like to know someone's name before I tell them my life story. And," she gestured at the drink, "I can't drink on the job."
"Oh, please," the woman answered, "It's one glass of wine. Fantastic wine. I've always preferred wine to whiskey myself. Wine warms you up, whiskey just burns."
She had an unnerving habit of maintaining eye contact, like she was willing Santana to understand some meaning behind her words. Strangely enough, Santana found that she wanted to. She sipped the wine.
"Santana," she introduced herself and stuck out her hand.
The woman took it. "Liz."
A/N: So Brittany's pregnant, and Santana did not find out in the ideal way. And Santana's obviously still in love with her, but thinks it's really over now. And who is this Liz character anyway?
There will be a time jump to the next chapter, I've already started it.
Song in this chapter was "Wine After Whiskey" by Carrie Underwood. It's a fabulously depressing song (not in a bad way, just full of feels), you should listen to it.