A/N First off sorry for the extended wait. Things with my granddad's funeral and Will have been a mess. My uncle's turned into squabbling children and my dad wasn't actually much better. I mean, the poor man died (alone for god's sake!) and they were more concerned about what to do with his money and belongings left behind! This of course wasn't helped by their wives (my mother excluded 'cos seriously, my dad picked a level headed catch in that one) pressuring them and sticking their noses where it honestly wasn't needed. God, they barely gave a damn about the man. They didn't even spend a Christmas or birthday with him. No, me, my parents and lil' sister did. Argh. Seriously family suck. When I die I'm gonna leave everything I have to orphans or something. And my lil' sister. The rest of my family can take a long walk off a short pier.
Anyway, I sincerely apologise for my absence. And for those wanting to know SC will be back asap, I was having some writers block with it but now I feel like I'm back on track so keep your eyes peeled.
All the best
UnknownArtiste
"So…" Rachel began with a slight hint of awkwardness, "what happened?"
Santana sighed; face now dry as she leant forward to place her empty mug on the small table in front of her. "She and Artie were practically going at it in the middle of Rick the Stick's kitchen."
Rachel winced, almost reaching out to pat the Latina's shoulder before thinking better of it, wrapping her hand firmly around her mug once more. "That sucks."
"Yeah," the Cheerleader said softly, eyes focussed on her fingers tracing the patterns within the grain of the wooden table before her.
"It's just, the only reason I went to the stupid thing is 'cause I promised B I would. Ages ago mind you. Before she even knew Wheels existed." She rolled her eyes, "That stupid Puckhead throws a massive party every year 'round this time, his birthday or some shit like that -," at this Rachel couldn't help but smile, even in throes of heartbreak Santana was still so…Santana. "-and after she got that ear infection and missed it last year I promised I'd go with her next time." The taller brunette shrugged, her tone mournful "I just thought she'd at least remember…or care. God!" with a frustrated growl Santana buried her face in her hands, sniffling once more.
Rachel could no longer fight the urge. With a slight (and understandable) degree of hesitance she placed her left hand on the other girls shoulder. She felt the Latina shudder slightly at her touch and knew she couldn't hold back, smoothly moving from her chair to sit beside the Cheerleader, pulling the other girl into a firm hug. For a brief moment Santana was still, probably contemplating resisting before she relaxed into the smaller girl's hold.
"It's okay," the diva murmured softly, "I got you."
It was strange, being held by someone other than Brittany.
Santana had long ago grown out of the need to seek comfort from her mother and her father had never really been the affectionate type. Besides, why did she need to be comforted by her parents when her best friend is the most affectionate and caring girl ever? A girl who gave out hugs and kisses with almost every breath of air. Or at least was. Santana wasn't sure what they were anymore; the lines had been blurred long ago.
Still, it was nice that Berry tried.
She didn't know how long they sat there, Rachel showed no signs of being uncomfortable or letting go. It seemed she was willing to hold the other girl as long as she needed her to. Santana wasn't going to kick a gift horse in the mouth; it had been months since anyone had held her, even if it was what could be considered a stranger.
After what seemed like a good ten minutes the Latina pulled back, feeling embarrassment creeping up within her. "I'm not usually so weird." She murmured, thankful for her dark complexion as she fought the urge to blush.
Rachel gave her a wry smile, "It's perfectly understandable Santana. Given the circumstances-," "Okay, okay," the Latina stated dryly with an eye-roll, familiarity returning with the beginnings of the diva's tirade "geez, a simple 'it's fine' would've done."
"Well yeah," Rachel said with a shrug, "but you certainly feel less weird now, right?"
Santana couldn't help but give a small chuckle upon realising what the smaller girl had done, "god, you are a strange one Rachel Berry."
"Guest room is through there -" The smaller girl gestured to the upcoming door to the right of them as they walked up the hallway. "-and I'm just across the hall." She finished with a warm smile as the Cheerleader tried not to fidget, embarrassment clouding her senses.
She cleared her throat softly, "Thanks Rachel," she somehow managed to maintain eye contact with the diva, "for listening," she coughed lightly, "and letting me crash here and shit."
Rachel surveyed her with a hint of amusement as a slight smile played on her lips. "I couldn't let you walk home alone at this time of night, honestly don't worry about it." She touched the Latina's arm gently, nudging her towards the awaiting guest bedroom. "I'll just get you something to borrow for the night, make yourself comfortable."
Santana watched the diva turn and open her bedroom door (which was unsurprisingly adorned with a large gold star) before turning to open her own door for the night. The small room was simple but elegant, clearly a guest room, a conclusion backed by the lack of personal touch. Rather it was clinical in feeling – much like a upscale hotel room. The brunette sat at the edge of the bed, happily surprised by the softness of the bed as she relaxed on it. All of a sudden the lateness of the night plus the stress of the past few hours hit her at once. She was exhausted. Wearily she reached down, pulling off her flats.
In the with-Brittany days she would always wear heels to any party, partly because she knew they only accentuated her legs (which after Sue Sylvester's Cheerio training looked fanatastic) and she thoroughly enjoyed the effect it had on the many hormonal teenage boys that were usually present and also because they made her almost the same height as Brit, which made for easier drunk make-outs in secluded corners of whichever party they were at. In without-Brittany days, as she'd dubbed the particular period in her life, she'd forgone her usual fuck-me heels. Without Brittany, not even the hungry looks of boys or jealous looks of her peers were appealing.
Santana huffed; she really was pathetic.
Santana's phone began to vibrate in her jeans pocket, each vibration in sync with the beat of the current ringtone. Although the volume was at its lowest the Latina knew the pattern of vibrations off by heart. She'd been the one to studiously buy the damn song after all, 95 cents was a small price to pay for the old ABBA classic, and Brittany had been so pleased, taking pleasure in crooning the lyrics in Santana's ear as she'd selected it.
–' you are the dancing queen, young and sweet-
With slight trepidation Santana answered, opening her mouth to speak when the sounds from the other end registered -the loud rustle of fabric, a slight grunt followed by soft murmurs, a whimper and then the slow build up thuds, slightly sporadic in their rhythm and then a long, low moan of "Britta-"
Bile rose in Santana's mouth as the phone fell from her hands, hitting the hardwood floor with a crack. With wide unseeing eyes she tried to control her body and the urge to run far, far away. From what she had no clue, but the idea of running gave the promise of release, a physical relief from the agony she was currently feeling. Her eyes clenched shut as she shuddered, remembering the sounds that had just assaulted her ears via the cellular phone lying in pieces on the floor below her, trying desperately to block them out.
All at once it was too much and she rose swiftly from her perch, stepping towards to the door as it flew open, Rachel Berry now standing in her path.
The diva stood there with a wide, open smile, brown eyes soft and sincere as she looked at the taller brunette before. Rachel was quite pretty Santana noted objectively, her brain stating facts almost detachedly, desperately separating her from her hearts current anguish, hot even. Her legs were long and lean, ass firm and her lips always looked so soft.
And in that brief moment Santana did the only thing she could do to prevent herself from succumbing to her heartbreak and breaking down right there and then or running herself into an early grave.
She took two quick steps forward, ignoring the smaller girl's squeak of surprise as she encroached upon her personal space and firmly pressed her lips against Rachel's, kissing her firmly on the mouth.