Chapter Twenty: The One at New Years Eve

XX: For times gone by, we will take a cup of kindness yet, for times gone by.

"If you stopped squirming, this would all be so much easier," Finn tells him bluntly, trying to push the wheelchair through the corridor as Kurt adjusts and moves in it. It's the 30th of December, and his younger brother is finally allowed to leave the hospital. He's still tender, and will be healing for a while, but he's perfectly fine to continue life as always. Finn wants to pretend that the entire accident didn't happen, truth be told.

If he could forget it all and never mention it again, he readily would. In fact, he would be prepared to pretty much erase all of the last few months. Nothing has gone his way. It seems petty to linger on Rachel, but he can't help it. He thinks he loves her. He knows he loves her.

A very large part of him can't seem to grasp that she might be in love with someone else. How is he supposed to reconcile himself with that? The only woman he's truly loved, and the one he forever assumed he'd marry, is in love with another man. The worst part is that there is no one to blame but himself.

It was him who wanted to play the field for a while, to live the bachelor life with Puck. He threw everything away for some stupid, drunken nights in a club. (They were actually some of the best nights of his life, but Finn isn't ready to think about that yet.) He never recognises a good thing when he has it.

The breaks suddenly jerk on the wheelchair, and Finn stumbles into it abruptly, "Hey! What's the problem?"

"I've been calling you for the last five minutes, Finn." Kurt replies, quite curtly at that, Finn thinks with just a hint of amusement.

"What's got your knickers twisted? I was lost in thought, no need to cause a collision."

"Well, I know that's such a possibility in your presence." At this comment, Finn loses all patience and lets go of the wheelchair, coming around to face Kurt. They're at the entrance now, and he can feel his phone ringing in his pocket – predictably Puck calling from the car, complaining about the wait. Nonetheless, it only causes Finn's irritability to rise.

"What the hell is your problem, man? I said I was sorry, we've been over this, I thought we were cool?"

Kurt glances down, silent for a moment. He sighs then, and directs his attention to the ceiling instead of the floor, "I'm sorry. I'm just feeling crap and taking it out on the nearest and dearest person. Can we just go home?"

Feeling a smidge guilty, Finn nods complacently, "Of course. You can get rested up and settled in, because we have all sorts of party plans for tomorrow night…"

Kurt only grins back at him.

Quinn hums a light and airy tune as she helps Rachel set up the apartment for later that night. They haven't had a big New Years party since they moved in, which is quite some time ago. Quinn's sure it will be great, but there's something niggling at the back of her mind. There's a worry and stress knotted in her stomach, and she's not sure why. She can't pinpoint the exact reason and that stresses her out even more. Quinn thinks it might be Sam – what else could be causing this emotional rollercoaster? Either him, or Puck, and she's not sure which is worse.

No, wait, the worse option is definitely Puck.

She tries to get those words from Christmas Eve out of her head, she really does. Quinn pushes them out of her daily thoughts, she skirts around them and shoves them under the carpet. And yet, there's still this overwhelming urge to replay the scene over and over in her head.

It's not fair to Sam. He deserves the world and more in a partner, and she has to try and give that to him. Quinn owes it to herself to try a normal, happy relationship. She loves him, she really does, but does she love him enough?

Quinn scoffs, of course she does, what a ridiculous question. She endures another momentary lapse then, and eyes Rachel. The other woman is fluffing pillows on the couch, as if people will notice, and singing a Christmas tune out loud. She seems to enjoy Jesse's presence, seems so sure and certain of him.

Curious, Quinn asks nonchalantly, "What made you decide to kiss Jesse? I mean, we've all heard about the kiss from someone…" She neglects to mention that they all heard it from Finn, who was unfortunate enough to walk in on it. "You really disliked him before that."

Rachel, caught off guard by the question, pauses in her fluffing. She looks off into the distance, doing the drama routine she always does, and Quinn rolls her eyes. She speaks in a wistful, nostalgic tone then, "It was the opening night of the show when I first realised I wanted him. That it was more than a physical attraction, you know? A little something about me not many people know… Well, I've a bit of a sweet tooth—"

"Really? That's shocking. I never knew that. I've certainly never seen you go to town on a jar of Nutella."

"Shut up," Rachel says lightly, disliking her trip down memory lane being interrupted, "As I was saying, I've a bit of a sweet tooth, and on the opening night of my shows, I like to drink it. I say it's for my throat and vocal chords, but that's not true at all, it's for my guilty indulgence. Either way, on my dressing table, on the opening night, was a tub of honey with a note saying good luck. I never thought Jesse listened when I rambled about stuff like that, but obviously, I was wrong. He's thoughtful and –"

Quinn frowns in confusion, "But Rachel, that was—"

"Oh, he's here! I asked him to come early and help me cook some party food. Did you know he makes a great Christmas Pudding?" Rachel squeals in excitement and races to the door. Quinn swallows her revelation, watching with guarded eyes as her friend greets her boyfriend.

She doesn't believe in that relationship for one second, and deep down, she doesn't think Rachel does either.

The party is in full swing by the time Mike finally manages to make his way across the hall. Of course, it's hosted in the girls apartment, as everything is with them. Having been in work earlier that day, Mike is ready to let loose and have a good time. Contrary to Pucks complaints, he's actually quite fond of drinking and chatting with his friends. Simply because one does not enjoy sweatboxes – more commonly known as nightclubs – doesn't mean they're boring.

He especially wants to have a good time tonight. His managers bellyaching and the constant stream of stress in his workplace had him on the verge of quitting not two hours ago. Surely, it wouldn't be that bad? Surely, he could simply quit and leave it all behind, start a life of dance and song?

Oh, how he wishes…

Not bothering to knock on the door, Mike strolls in, beers in hand, and places them on the counter. As he's throwing his jacket over the coat hanger, he feels someone clasp his shoulder, giving it a shake. "Mike, my maaan, can you believe I'm here?"

He laughs, "Puck, how long have you been here? And drinking, at that?"

"Pssh, that's not important, what is important is that I got tonight off work… How they'll survive without me, I'll never know," He says dramatically, clutching a hand to his chest. Switching his mood and topic at an impressive – or perturbing – rate, Puck then leans in closely, pulling Mike in with him, "Hey, did you see Brittany's sister? That girl is looking fine. Is it wrong to hit that?"

Mike rolls his eyes. It will always be about the ladies with Puck, and he wouldn't want his friend to be any other way. Sometimes though, he wonders when the man will wake up and open his eyes. Quinn is moving on, fast, and to a guy that everyone loves. Puck won't find anyone fighting his corner when he finally gets up off his ass. He certainly won't get any sympathy from Mike. Returning to the situation at hand, he replies with the standard, "Puck, you already have."

"Yeah, but again."

He's saved a response by someone coming in the door behind him, bumping into Mike in the process. "Oh, sorry, I'm moving…" He takes a step forward and turns to properly apologise to the person on the other side. When he turns, he gets a shock that nearly turns his hair grey.

She hasn't seen him yet, busy with taking her coat off, "No, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come barging in, but I did knock and Brittany isn't answering her phone, so – Mike? Oh my god, what are you doing here?"

The same perfectly curled hair, with tidbits of blonde running through it, framing one of the warmest and most beautiful faces he's laid on, "Tina? What—what are you doing here?" He laughs, "This is my best friends apartment. Did Finn or Kurt invite you? That might be a bit awkward."

"Finn and Kurt are here? That's awkward alright," She chuckles nervously, "No, I was invited by Brittany. She heard about my accident, that I was spending New Years alone and asked me here. Wow, what a small world!"

Puck raises his eyebrows, "I think I'll leave you two alone…"

She's never been a social butterfly of any kind, preferring to assert her dominance by keeping her close friends nearby and respond to strangers when necessary. Santana has never claimed to be free of issues, but she knows what she wants. Lately, however, she's been finding herself wanting more but not sure what that more is. She struggles to even pinpoint which area of her life it is, but when she truly digs deep, Santana knows it all has to do with Brittany.

Tonight, Brittany is wearing a pair of black leather shorts and a loose black crop top, leaving very little to the imagination. Not the choice outfit of most girls, not demure or classy, but Santana loves it. She stands talking to some kid in a wheelchair, who is obviously trying to get in her pants. Santana is secure enough not to march over in jealousy, but she can't help wishing he knew that Brittany was with her. She wants everyone to know.

She wants Brittany to know that they're firmly together, that Santana wants them to be together forever. That's right. Satana Lopez, allergic to commitment, wants to spend all of her life with one person, and knows who that person is with all her heart. She smiles inadvertently as she watches the blonde interact so animatedly.

This interaction is interrupted when she overhears three males, her friends, talking beside her, "I don't know, man. I think she's it, you know?"

Realising she's privy to an extremely interesting conversation, Santana tries to hide herself while scooting closer, desperate to hear more. She takes out her phone, trying to appear as if she's engrossed in a texting match with someone. It had been definitely Sam Evans speaking there.

"I know how you feel. Rachel and I did the whole I love you the other day. Pretty terrifying, but I won't lie, I lingered by the jeweller the other day." Santana nearly drops her phone on the ground at this point, the shock hits her so hard. Jesse and Rachel? Proposal? No… no, it couldn't be. It's too soon. Too wrong. It's Finn and Rachel – everyone knows that. The destined couples – Finn and Rachel, Puck and Quinn. Now that neither seems likely, Santana feels like she should be re-evaluating all of her prediction abilities.

She sighs, her friends are idiots. Finn is a pansy, Rachel is blind, Puck is stupid and Quinn is so far in denial that Santana wonders how she looks anyone in the eye. Whatever. It's not like it's her problem. It's not like she gives two shits what they do with their lives.

"Woah, that's a bit fast, don't you think?" Finally, the voice of reason, Mike, intervenes. Finally, his monotonous and predictable behaviour has its uses.

She can almost hear Sam's cheesy grin as he replies, with an exaggerated Southern twang, "You just can't put a time on love, Mike." There's a short laugh, "We could all be tied down this time next year, you never know!"

"You're not at all hesitant about the whole Beth thing? I really respect that, Sam."

Santana audibly gasps this time, spinning around to make a gesture at Mike to shut his trap. (Okay, so she cares a little about what happens to their lives.)

Mike doesn't see her. Curse her excellent sneaking abilities.

However, she can now clearly see Mike and Jesse nodding in agreement as Jesse responds, "Yeah, I know I would have ran for the hills when I heard about it. I mean, I know Beth doesn't live with her, but she's still her daughter, and her and Puck visit all the time."

"Hey, Curly Sue, shut your mouth and get me a drink, will you? I'm still not sure whether I want to tell Rachel about how my gaydar goes into overdrive when you speak. This will definitely help me decide." Santana interjects, walking over and rudely interrupting the conversation.

Jesse does something only someone very stupid would do. He ignores her. To his credit, he ignores her because of Sam's hand on his shoulder, pulling his attention to him. Confusion written all over his face, his eyes dart to Noah Puckerman (flirting unabashedly with Brittany's sister, something he'll regret deeply later) and back to Jesse. "Why would Puck be going with her?"

Santana, on the other hand, still can't believe this gilipollas thinks he can ignore her. He continues to do so, "Oh, you don't know, do you? That's so interesting. Why don't you ask Quinn herself? It's so odd she didn't mention the father of her child."

Sam's face drains of all colour – and she's never truly seen that happen before. He looks quite sickly, actually. Thank God she likes girls. The look Sam sends Quinn is one of confusion and he's clearly connecting the dots in his head. To be frank, he looks pretty devastated, and it doesn't bode well for his future with Quinn.

He puts his hands up to his face then, and walks slowly into Quinn's room, shutting the door behind him. Jesse is still standing there, looking as if he's almost enjoying what's happening. This only serves to make Santana even more furious with him.

She snaps her fingers in front of his face, "You! Why don't you go home? You're cheap, overrated, punching far above your weight, and quite frankly, I don't understand the way you dress. Are you trying to make people assume you're gay? You think your relationship is all roses? Why don't you ask Rachel who the love of her life is – oh, that's precious. Don't tell me you thought you were the one she pictured sweating above her when you managed to get it up long enough for a bit of missionary?"

"Santana," A voice says from behind her, sounding distinctly aghast and breathless. She can see the look of triumph in Jesse's eyes. She's not imagining it, she knows these things.

Cursing her luck, Santana turns around, "What? Rachel, he's a fool."

The smaller girls expression is hurt, and tears gather in her eyes. It's then that Santana notices everyone's eyes on her. Hmm. She must have raised her voice a little. She doesn't care what their little minds have to say or think about her – the only person she cares about is standing halfway across the room, cup poised at her mouth, a look of shock and disappointment in her gaze. Santana can't hold the gaze for long, hating how it makes her feel.

"Santana, how could you," She says softly, stepping forward and taking Jesse's hand. "None of that was even remotely true."

She laughs callously, "Please, Rachel. If there's one thing I know how to do, it's speak the truth. Why don't you ask Jesse about how he gleefully ended Quinn's relationship?"

Rachel appears taken aback, but before she can even utter a word, Quinn pushes someone out of the way to stand behind the couch across from them, "Excuse me?"

"Oh yeah, he made a big show of saying—"

"I did not, and you know it. You're a bitch trapped in her own bitterness. Quinn, you should have had the decency to tell your boyfriend about your antics with Puck."

"You did not just try and lecture me on my relation—" Quinn tries to say, fury written all over her.

Puck, who had been sucking Brittany's sisters face (Kelly, rather liberal with her men, nothing like Brittany and everything like a mix between Quinn, Santana and someone really, really annoying.) suddenly lifted his head, "Wha?"

"Turn back around, Noah," Santana says tiredly, waving him away. In his state, he's only going to make things worse. Hell, soberly, he would only make things worse. He has a magnificent talent for that, one that Santana can't top – no matter how hard she tries to.

Kurt claps his hands then from his seat beside Finn, who has yet to say a word. "Okay, so why doesn't everyone return to their drinks and chats. Where's the music and who turned it down? Let's get this party back on track and—"

"Hey! It's nearly midnight!" Kid in wheelchair, who has to be about fifteen, interjects. "Fifteen minutes everyone, find that special someone..." His eyes fall to Brittany as he says this, and Santana knows he's just looking for trouble tonight. She has no qualms with a verbal takedown with him.

Despite how annoying he is, his announcement does cause people to start talking again. Santana leaves behind the drama in the corner and approaches Brittany casually. "Can we talk for a second?"

She gestures to wheelchair kid, and then walks over to the kitchen area with Santana. "That was really mean, San. I mean, why did you do that? Rachel likes him. She likes him a lot."

Oh, for gods sake. Why does the woman have to light up Santana's conscience? "Look, I know. I know it was mean, but that's me, and you know it's me, B. I don't regret it. He was an asshole about Sam and Quinn, and even Puck in some ways, and I was just being their friend." She had matured, but she still understands the importance of asserting yourself and standing your ground. Santana is never going to be the person who rolls over and says nothing.

Brittany sighs, her eyes dropping to her drink as she stirs it with her bright pink straw, "I love that you're honest. I love that you stick up for everyone. But do you have to be so cruel?"

"Sometimes."

The blonde girl stares at her for a minute, then smiles softly, "I guess you wouldn't be Santana if you weren't. Do you wanna go to the balcony for the countdown?" She holds out her hand, and of course, Santana accepts. She could never deny the woman anything, really.

A/N: Hey, people... I'm not sure if anyone is reading this fic anymore, and after nearly a year of no updates, that wouldn't be surprising! I'm hoping this update is well-received though. I have the rest of the story mostly written, I'm currently writing the last chapter. I'm going to try and finish it tomorrow, and will then update every day/every second day. I'm so sorry for the lack of updates.

Cory Monteith (RIP) passing away makes writing all this kind of wrong. But, at least Finchel can be together in this universe. I would like to say what a huge loss though.

Reviews would be lovely. I'll update again tomorrow - you have my word.

CN.

Disclaimer: Don't own "Glee" or Auld Lang Syne. Thanks.