Wes stared at his reflection in the mirror, tugging almost nervously at his sleeve. Okay, sure, he knew how to dress himself – despite the fact he virtually lived in his school uniform out of the sheer ease of it, well, even Kurt had squealed running through his wardrobe that time. And Kurt was like Meryl Streep's character in The Devil Wears Prada – you were lucky enough to get a smile or a slight comment about your appearance, let alone a squeak of joy. But he had to balance everything and get it right, and, hey, maybe those girls were kind of on the right track when they go out with their friends and shop and try on amazing clothes and feel great about themselves…
But… that was neither here nor there. So, drawing in a deep breath, readjusting his sling, he opened the door.
"Guys? Thoughts?"
David wolf-whistled.
"Kurt?"
"You… um…" He flushed a deep red. "You look good." The countertenor stood up, jacket in hands, helping the senior shrug it on. "Santana is going to eat you up!"
There was an odd sort of irony to his words, but Wes just grinned. "Hood on or off? And the shirt – stripes okay?"
He felt the five boys pass their eyes over him, feeling… strangely naked. Which was odd. He definitely had clothes on… Stepping back, he puffed his chest a bit as he turned to the mirror again… It was… a little strange, he had to admit. When not in uniform, he'd usually just slouch around in track pants or faded jeans and the Dalton hoodie. But now he had on a pair of deep silvery-blue jeans, a white striped dress shirt, and, like demanded yesterday, a black leather jacket.
Blaine snorted, a hand clapped over his mouth to try to hold back the laughter.
"What?" Wes looked back over his shoulder, eyes wide. "Are the jeans ripped? Does my ass look too big? What?"
"No…" Blaine was now covering his eyes. "The only issue with your ass," he managed to get out around giggles, "is that it's rather painfully reassuring how gay I am…"
"Oh." Wes grinned cheekily. "You like that?" He started dancing around, sticking his butt out and jiggling it around, jumping backwards to get closer to Blaine. "My ass doing something for you?"
Nick punched him. "Be nice, Wes. You are a very attractive individual, and Santana is going to lose her shit when she sees you."
"Fine…" He turned round, patting Blaine's cheek. "I'm sorry. I'm just nervous." He cleared his throat, biting his lip. "I… I think I'm good to go. Finally."
"Man up!" Kurt told him, lowering his voice. "You look fabulous."
Jeff snorted. "Mate, you sound like Carson Kressley."
David stared blankly.
"From Queer Eye for the Straight Guy…" The blonde rolled his eyes. "What, you think we didn't get that down in Australia? Well, honey," he raised the pitch of his voice, attempting a stereotypical gay lisp, "I lived a couple of years in Sydney, fashion capital of the world, queen of queens, and Wes, darling?" He grabbed his hand, spinning the shorter boy. "I'm embracing my gay for once in my life. You look hot, and if you weren't straight, I would totally be jealous of Santana right now."
Well. Okay, then. Three-pocket check – wallet, phone and keys… the last getting handed to Jeff. Unfortunately, with a left arm in a sling, driving was rather difficult, and seeing how Jeff had only just passed his test – in Wes' mini, no less – he may as well drive.
"So, come on, let's go. Unless you'd rather stay here with one straight, two gay and two whose-sexuality-is-yet-to-be-properly-determined men checking out your arse."
Wes put his hand up. "Alright, I'm coming! Thanks so much, guys." With a squirt of cologne – definitely without jasmine this time – and a quick hug from each of them, Wes followed his Australian friend down into the garage, and into the car.
Ridin' down the highway
Goin' to a show
Stoppin' at the byway
Playin' rock 'n' roll…
Wes grinned as yet another AC/DC song came blaring out the iPod docks. "Do you actually not listen to anything else?"
Jeff dropped back down to third, as he pulled off the highway. "Of course I do. This is just my pump-up-before-a-hot-date playlist. Skip it, if you want."
AC/DC was quickly replaced with:
Is it still me that makes you sweat?
Am I who you think about in bed
When the lights are dim and your hands are shaking as you're sliding off your dress?
"Now, that's more like it," Wes scrunched his nose. "Gotta love Panic!"
"That we do," Jeff agreed. "So, tell me about Santana. I very briefly met her at the Lima Bean, but, well… I was a bit preoccupied that night…"
"Fair enough," Wes shook his head. "Santana is… something else. She puts forward such a strong personality – and that's one of the reasons she intrigues me, I guess. But I don't think she's as tough as she likes to appear… She's very defensive, very protective… She's fiery, that's for sure!"
"Hmm," Jeff frowned in thought. "So you want to fix her?"
"What?"
"I know your saving-people thing, Wes. You're like Blaine," he told him, trying not to wave a finger. "I just… don't forget you're dating. This is meant to be fun – not you trying to make the world a better place. And a relationship won't work if it's based on you trying to help everyone else out – it's a two way thing. Otherwise you'll just end up with another round of antibiotics and… maybe a dislocated knee this time. I don't want to see you get hurt, when all you ever have is good intentions. You deserve that happiness as much as everyone else does."
"I do not have a saving person thing," Wes snapped. Did he? Well… Okay, so he was always looking out for everyone. But if not him, then who? If they trusted him, he had to look out for them… And surely he'd learnt his lesson from two weeks ago. He had actually gotten some sleep in that time. And he'd started chatting to people over dinner, so it didn't eat into homework time or choir time, or this mythical "down-time" everyone always seemed to speak about…
Jeff put his hands up in surrender. "Okay. Cool. Whatever, mate. You know what you're doing."
Ugh… Stupid temper. Stupid nerves. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to jump down your throat."
"Nah, mate, no worries."
They fell into silence, watching the scenery slow down as they turned back into civilisation, nearing the Lima Bean.
"So… what does she look like? All I know is that she's Latina of some form."
Wes sighed happily. "She is… gorgeous. Only way to put it."
"Tall, short, blue hair…?"
"She looks…" Wes trailed off, mouth dropping open as they pulled into the carpark.
Livin' easy, livin' free,
Season ticket on a one-way ride,
Askin' nothing, leave me be,
Taking everything in my stride…
"Like that?" Jeff finished the sentence for him, glancing at the beauty standing by the side door, before tapping the senior on the chin, reminding him to shut his mouth.
Wes just nodded, staring. There she was. Santana Lopez. Absolute goddess in deep purple skinny leg jeans, with her own leather jacket on top. Hair half-up, half-down, tumbling over her shoulders… Jacket zipped to show just the perfect amount of cleavage without coming off as a hooker or a slut. Full red lips. Kissable lips. And those huge eyes… Oh, God. He swallowed.
"Well, hi there, Jackie Chan, male Sandy Olsen," Santana greeted them. "You just gonna sit there and check me out, or are you going to be a gentleman and join me?"
I'm on the highway to hell…
"Have fun…" Jeff pushed him towards the door, trying not to laugh at the absolute adorable mess his friend had turned into.
Wes jumped out the car, watching it slowly drive off, before turning slowly to face the girl. "Hi."
"Hi, yourself," she chuckled, pulling him in for a quick kiss before chucking a helmet on his head. "I see you did get around to that leather. It suits you."
But he could only stare at the vehicle on the street in front of them. "I have one arm. Please, explain to me how I'm going to ride a motorbike."
She shrugged, sitting herself back and patting the seat in front insistently. "Get your well-toned ass down here, and we'll work something out."
God, she was hot. She was in control – he was fully in her mercy. And Wes wouldn't have it any other way.
Hello, my lovelies!
Exams are OVER. I have been 21 for 3 hours. Life is good. And so, you can all share in the wonder of Westana with me.
... Basically, Santana was being her usual self and didn't want her date details with Wes to get out... so we'll get on to their amazingness and fluffiness and banter, etc etc etc soon enough. But Wes wanted to show you how he got Niff, Klaine and David to turn into Queer Eye for the Straight Guy :P
... Shut up. It's 3 am. Like I can claim sanity in any normal situation...
Thank you to the wonderful people that have read, favourited, subscribed and reviewed! Especial thanks to xXLittle Rose AngelXx, zimbardooo, PenMagic, Eraman, KlaineLuneville, Carbon65 and AddiTood57!
And next chapter will be better - more Westana actual interaction. But, hey.
Oh. Songs. Fic title and the "is it still me that makes you sweat" is Lying is the Most Fun A Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off by Panic! At the Disco - and you should definitely listen to their acoustic version because, man, is it sultry! Chapter title is from Mercy by Duffy. AC/DC songs are It's A Long Way to the Top and Highway to Hell, respectively. And no, unfortunately, I do not own any legal rights to them, other than that weird clause thing that lets you listen to songs you have purchased a digital copy of. :P
Going to sleep now. Love you all!
Love it? Hate it? Want me to eat too much Opera cake and explode like Violet in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory?
Keep smiling! :D