"You okay?"
Brittany keeps asking her that and it's taking everything Santana has not to snap at her in response. She inhales sharply. "I'm fine." She slams her locker shut, trying to ignore the way Brittany is studying her, her eyes full of concern. Okay so maybe fine is too strong of a word, but she's trying to hold everything together, she really is, which isn't easy when New Directions have apparently decided to make her life a living hell. She thought she'd actually been quite restrained yesterday considering she pretty much had to sit there while Kurt and Blaine preached to her on the joys of being gay. She's just not sure what to expect today, not sure which one of them she is going to be forced to listen to next. She hopes it isn't Berry, as she doesn't think she'll be able to remain quite as calm as she has been over this whole thing with Manhands belting in front of her.
Brittany kicks at the floor. "What if we don't go?"
It's not the first time Brittany has suggested they simply skip Glee rehearsal and she wishes that was an option. "If we don't go, then SuperFinn will go running to Figgins and I get a two week vacation." She pauses and considers that. "Although that might not be such a bad thing."
"This sucks." Brittany sighs and leans against the lockers.
Santana can only shrug. It's not like she can disagree with her, but she just doesn't seem to have any choice but to grin and bear it.
Brittany looks up at her and Santana can't miss the anger in her eyes. "It's not okay, you know? It's not okay for them to do this to you."
"They're trying to help." She's not sure why she feels the need to defend them.
"Yeah? Well they suck at it."
"It's Glee Club. What don't they suck at?" Santana bumps her shoulder into Brittany's, and that earns her a small smile at least, but she can tell Brittany is still pissed off about all this.
"It still doesn't make it right." Brittany looks like she wants to say more, but she doesn't get the chance as Coach Sylvester is stalking towards them.
"Sandbags, my office. Now." Coach Sylvester doesn't even slow down, just keeps on walking.
Normally Santana wouldn't even hesitate to follow her, but the memory of the last time she was summoned to Coach's office is still fresh in her mind and she freezes. She's been expecting this, been waiting to be kicked off the Cheerios now that Coach Sylvester knows the truth, but now it's about to become a reality it fills her with dread.
Thankfully Brittany appears to still be able to function and she finds herself being pushed along the hallway after Coach Sylvester's retreating form. Once they make it to her office, Santana quickly turns to Brittany, not wanting to be left alone, but she finds she can't bring herself to ask her to stay, can't quite allow herself to be so pathetic that she needs to cling to her girlfriend for support all the time. Instead she finds herself just grabbing for Brittany's arm.
Brittany places her hands on her shoulders and guides her into the office, leaning down to whisper in her ear. "Relax. I'm not going anywhere. I promise."
When they both enter, Santana half expects Coach Sylvester to tell Brittany to leave but she doesn't, she only gestures for them to sit down. Santana's just thankful that somehow her legs are suddenly co-operating again and she's able to walk over to the desk and collapse into one of the chairs. Brittany hangs back to close the door, then sits next to her.
Coach Sylvester leans forward on her desk. "Santana, I want to apologize once again for the part I played in this campaign ad that is set to ruin your life."
That hadn't been what Santana had been expecting and she can only stare at her in shock as her mind tries to make sure it processed the words correctly. A glance at Brittany only reveals the blonde looks as confused as she is.
"Now I've spoken to my people, and unfortunately I couldn't convince them to have Reggie the Sauce Salazar deported back to whichever two bit country he came from. Apparently he claims to be a US national, though how that's possible with a name like Salazar I don't know, but sadly there's nothing I can do on that front." Coach Sylvester clasps her hands together and sighs. "The only consolation I can offer is that I've managed to get Salazar to delay airing the ad until next week, though it's better if you don't know the details of just how I did that. I know it isn't much, but it will at least give you a little time to work out how to tell your parents that you're a sneaky gay. Or not so sneaky as it turns out."
Santana wonders if she's dreaming, in which case this whole thing is sure to turn into one of her nightmares any second now. Her eyes dart quickly over to the door where she half expects Finn to burst through carrying an axe.
When Coach Sylvester receives no response from her, she turns to Brittany instead. "Ellen, has Portia here suffered some kind of head trauma on top of everything else that's happened this week?"
Brittany shakes her head.
Coach Sylvester rolls her eyes. "Well I suggest you both pull yourselves together before Cheerios practice or you'll be both be finding yourselves at the bottom of the pyramid for the rest of the year. Understand?"
They both nod at her.
"Good. Now I'm certain you're supposed to be sitting in a circle somewhere singing Kum Ba Yah with Schuester right about now, so get out of here before William sends out a search party."
They scramble to their feet and head for the door.
"And Santana?"
Santana pauses with her hand on the door handle. It always throws her when Coach Sylvester refers to her by her actual name.
"I might not have been able to do anything about Salazar, but you don't have to worry about that niece of his."
Santana raises an eyebrow, not sure if she wants to know any more on that subject or not.
Coach Sylvester smiles at her. "Let's just say she's no longer a student at McKinley and leave it at that."
Brittany places a hand on her arm and that's enough to make Santana move, opening the door and letting Brittany past her. Santana pauses in the doorway, wanting to say thank you, but she can't find the words, something that's been happening a lot lately.
Coach Sylvester is busy writing in her journal, her eyes fixed on the desk, but she must know Santana hasn't yet left. "You're welcome, Lopez. Now go."
Santana can only nod and then follows Brittany.
Brittany offers her a small smile. "That's good, right? That you've got some time until they start showing that ad?"
"Yeah, great, a stay of execution. So now I get to wait even longer for my life to go to hell."
Brittany moves towards her to pull her into a hug, but she takes a step back, her eyes darting around the hallway. It's becoming automatic now, her need to keep some physical distance between them whenever they're in public. She knows she's hurting Brittany by doing so, but she's not quite ready for public displays of affection yet. She just hopes Brittany understands. In a way, it's why she's kind of glad of Glee Club. It's somewhere that she doesn't feel the need to push Brittany away, and even if it is only a small step, she still feels like she's made some progress at least. "Come on. Let's go see what fresh hell The Jolly Finn Giant has for us today."
She starts walking towards the choir room, Brittany falling into step beside her. Santana's almost at the door when she realises that Brittany is no longer following her and she turns around to find her standing a short way back down the corridor. "Are you coming?"
Brittany keeps her eyes on the floor. "How can you be okay with all this?"
"Because I don't have a fucking choice." She doesn't mean to raise her voice, but they've had this conversation before, and she's getting tired of it. "What do you want me to do? Go in there and beat Finn to death with a chair? Scream at them all? What good will it do, huh, Britt?"
Brittany doesn't have an answer for her, probably because she knows she's right.
"B, don't you get it? I'm just trying to get through each day without having a complete break down here."
"I just..."
"Look, it's my life they're interfering with. I'm the one that has to live with all this crap and I've got more important things to worry about than the Glee Club thinking they're helping by holding these musical interventions. So I'm asking you to let it go, okay?" There's nobody else around so Santana risks reaching out and takes hold of Brittany's hand. "Can you do that for me? Because if you're not with me on this, then I swear at least one of them is gonna end up in the hospital."
Brittany finally looks up at her, and sighs. "Okay, okay. Like I told you I'm not going anywhere."
Santana still won't let herself believe that, not with everything that's still to come, but it's enough for now that Brittany keeps hold of her hand and pulls her into the choir room.
"That was sloppy. I swear the more you practice, the worse you get. How is that even possible? If I thought you had the brains, I'd swear you were doing it on purpose."
Coach Sylvester's insults so far today haven't been anything that Brittany hasn't heard before. They're far from her usual quality, and even sitting up here in the bleachers, she can tell they lack their usual venom, as if she's just running lines, her heart not really in it. It almost makes Brittany glad that Coach gave her and Santana a pass on practice today. Almost.
Not that Santana had taken it well when Coach had told them they were so use to her in their current state and to get out of her sight and go home. No, it had only led to her having to sit on the floor of the locker room, while Santana paced back and forth, subjecting her to a twenty minute rant, only half of which Brittany had understood, and that wasn't just because most of it had been in Spanish. Eventually though Santana had tired herself out, something that's been happening a lot over the past few days, and that scares Brittany more than she'll admit. Everything is starting to wear Santana down, she can see it happening, but can't seem to do anything to stop it. If anything she's making it worse. She must be as once Santana had calmed down, she'd told Brittany she needed some space and then gone home without her.
And as if it wasn't bad enough that Santana is mad at her, her feet seem to be as well. They must be as they're itching to move. Maybe they're simply bored. After all she can't remember the last time she let them dance. Well she can but it hurts to think about that night, she still can't listen to Adele. And now they've been denied taking part in Cheerios practice as well then oh yeah, they're definitely pissed off. Maybe that's why they'd brought her here, to make her sit and watch the rest of the squad suck without her and Santana to help them through practice. Maybe it's their revenge against her for forcing them to keep so still lately. She sits forward, elbows resting on her knees, head in her hands, and watches as Coach makes the squad run suicides. What she wouldn't give to be down there on that field right now.
She doesn't spot Mike making his way up the bleachers towards her until it's too late to make a break for it, especially as she wouldn't be able to come up with any excuse right now for why she might be trying to run away from him. Her brain is currently running on around three hours sleep a night, the only thing keeping her awake are the Pixy Stix she keeps feeding it. She only wishes her feet were as sleepy as her head is.
Mike sits down on the bleacher beside her. "Skipping practice today?"
"Coach told us to take a few days off. That she wasn't going to let us drag her entire squad down with us, and that we could come back once we were done being zombies."
"So you get given a free pass to miss Cheerios practice, yet you're sat in the bleachers watching everyone else practice?"
"My feet made me do it."
He just nods and she figures that if anyone would understand what she's talking about it would be Mike. "Where's Santana?"
She shrugs. She's sick of everyone assuming that the two of them are suddenly inseparable, treating them as a single entity, though most of the time it feels like she's now simply an extension of Santana, that she is no longer her own person, instead is simply Santana's girlfriend, and therefore of no consequence to them.
Mike doesn't say anything else, just turns his attention to the Cheerios. They sit in silence for a while until Mike eventually turns to look at her. "Britt?" He hasn't called her that in a long time. In fact, she doesn't think they've even really spoken to each other since last years Sectionals when they were doing rehearsals for Valerie. She keeps her eyes on the field. "When's the last time you slept? Like really slept?"
She does glance over at him now, finally meeting his eyes to find they're full of nothing but concern. "She's having nightmares." She realises too late that she maybe shouldn't have told him that, that she's violated Santana's trust in some way by doing so, but she needs to talk to someone about all this. She has too many thoughts bouncing around her head and it's starting to hurt. "She was doing okay. Not brilliant, but she was doing okay. But then you guys had to start..." She sighs, runs a hand over her face. "You all think you're helping, but you're not. You're making it worse, and none of you even realise it."
Mike doesn't say anything, though he does look a little surprised, as if he hadn't even considered Finn's idea was anything less than brilliant.
"I don't think you get how long she's been struggling with this. How long it's been tearing her apart." Now that she's started, she can't seem to stop the words from pouring out of her mouth. "But she was figuring it out, you know? Slowly, but she was getting there. And I told her it was okay. I told her she had time, Mike." She rubs at her eyes, willing herself not to cry. She's promised herself that she would be the strong one this time, that she owes Santana that at least. "But he took that away from her. And he had no right. He had no fucking right." She clenches her fists, nails digging into her palms. "He did that to her and now you all seem to think all you have to do is sing her a few songs and everything will be magically okay? It doesn't work like that." She wishes it did. "And the songs don't even make any sense. I thought Kurt would have got it at least. He's like the most unicorn person I know. But he doesn't. Telling her she's perfect? She isn't perfect, Mike. Nobody's perfect. And I've been trying so hard for so long to get her to understand that she doesn't have to be perfect. She just has to be Santana. And they ruined all that with one crappy pop song."
Mike shifts a little in his seat, but doesn't say anything.
She thinks back to today's lesson. "And Puck sounded awesome, but I don't get what that song had to do with Santana liking girls."
Something tells her the worst is yet to come as Finn hasn't sung so far, and seeing as this whole thing was his idea, there's no way he won't be doing so at some point. "I just don't get any of it." She wishes she did, wishes she did understand how Finn's masterplan is supposed to help Santana. Maybe then it would make it easier to sit through all these Lady Music lessons. But Santana has asked her to be there, and so she's going to keep showing up in that choir room for as long as Santana wants.
"I let her down last year. I tried pushing her, but I just ended up hurting her, Mike, hurting her until she started pushing back." Thinking about last year only starts her mind playing out what if scenarios. What if she hadn't tried to make Santana jealous by dating Artie? What if she hadn't ripped Santana's heart out of her chest after making her confess everything in that hallway? What if she'd been more patient? But it's only really these past few days that she's really understood just what Santana was so afraid of, and now it's too late to do anything about it. "I won't ever let her down like that again." She turns her attention back to the field just in time to watch the Cheerios mess up another routine.
When Mike does next speak, his voice is soft and low. "How long have you been in love with her?"
She doesn't have to think about her answer. "I don't remember ever not being in love with her." She can't help smiling slightly and she's suddenly left wondering just what she's doing sitting here with Mike Chang, when she could be spending her time making sure Santana knows just how much she loves her.
Before she can put that right though her cellphone buzzes to tell her she's received a new text message.
Britt, I'm sorry. Where are you? I need you. Please.
She types back a quick reply to tell Santana she'll be there as soon as she can. "I've gotta go, Chang. My girl needs me."
He nods, but she can see the worry in his eyes. "Okay, Pierce, I'll see you tomorrow."
He will because as much as she hates this whole Lady Music thing, she isn't about to let Santana go through it alone.
"You still haven't convinced me this isn't a set up." Puck slumps back in the passenger seat of Mike's truck.
Mike sighs, not for the first time tonight. They're parked in front of Santana's house, where they've been sat for the last ten minutes while they work out the finer details of his plan.
Puck scowls at him. "Dude, come on. What am I supposed to think? You show up on my doorstep, telling me you want me to babysit Santana Lopez for the evening? It sounds like a set up. Anyone can see that she's only going to end up killing me."
Puck might have a point, but he thinks he has a better chance of surviving this suicide mission than anyone else. "Just think of it as a challenge. Your chance to step up."
"Hey, I can be as good a lesbro as the next dude, but I'm just not sure she's ready for me taking her to bars to pick up chicks."
"That's not what I suggested you do with her." He frowns. "And that's exactly the kind of thing that will get you killed."
"Chang, if you don't want me to teach her everything I know about women, then why exactly am I here? Why not get your girl to help you out with this crazy ass plan?"
Mike had considered asking Tina, but she's not exactly friends with Santana. Not many people are. Quinn had been his first choice, but he gets the feeling that throwing Quinn into the mix right now would just be adding gasoline, and they can all do without that. So Puck had been his only other option. "Out of everyone in Glee, you're probably the person who knows her best."
"Dude, the fact that I dated her for so long and never realised that she was all about the ladies, would kinda suggest otherwise."
Mike's starting to realise that none of them know the real Santana, none of them except Brittany anyway. It doesn't matter though. Anyone who tries to talk to Santana right now is only going to be leaving that house in an ambulance, which is fine as he only needs a diversion, someone to keep Santana occupied while he talks to Brittany. Not that he plans on telling Puck he's only using him as cannon fodder. "Brittany needs a break. She's going to crash and burn if she doesn't get some rest soon."
"Can't we just wait for exhaustion to kick in? She's gotta loose consciousness eventually." He must sense that Mike isn't happy about that suggestion, as he throws open the door. "Fine, let's get this over with." He's out the car and halfway up her path by the time Mike catches up to him.
It's only as they near the house that Mike notices a slight flaw in his plan. "Won't her parents freak out at us being here this late?"
"Relax, Chang. They won't be home. We're fine. It's just Santana we have to worry about." Instead of going to the front door, Puck makes his way towards the back yard.
Mike falters for a second. "Where are you going?" Puck doesn't give him an answer. Mike no longer feels in control of this situation. He hurries after Puck, rounding the corner just in time to see him turning the handle on the kitchen door. When it swings open, he simply nods towards it and then disappears inside.
This is suddenly feeling like a really bad idea and he considers bolting it, leaving Puck to his own fate but this was all his idea, and he feels he has no choice but to follow Puck.
Entering the house, he finds himself in Santana's kitchen. Thankfully the lights are on but there's no sign of Puck. He's only been to Santana's house maybe twice, both parties and he doesn't remember much of either of them if he's honest. He closes the door behind him and slowly makes his way through into the hallway. There's a sudden crash from upstairs.
"What the fuck?"
That was Santana's voice and yeah, she definitely sounds pissed. He takes the stairs two at a time but comes to a halt when he reaches the hallway to find Puck cowering outside what he assumes is Santana's bedroom. Something whizzes past Puck's head and bounces off the wall. "Whoa, Lopez, you nearly hit me with that one."
"That was kinda the point, Puckerman."
Puck scowls at him as he approaches. "See, I told you she'd only try to kill me."
Mike reaches the door just as Santana charges out into the hallway and he has to step back quickly to avoid colliding with her. She had been heading for Puck, but she stops dead when she notices him. "What has the whole Glee club just invaded my house to serenade me again or something? I swear to God if Berry's downstairs..."
Brittany appears in the doorway, looking even more exhausted than she had earlier and all his doubts about this fade away.
"Relax, Lopez. It's just me and Chang." Puck holds his hands up. "Will you chill already?"
She folds her arms, and sighs. "What are you doing here?"
Puck looks to him for help, but Mike finds he can only shrug.
"Well?" She shoots them that patented Lopez glare and Mike now really finds himself not able to speak. He looks to Brittany for help and is thankful when she offers him a tight smile. She steps past Santana, surprising everyone by throwing her arms around him and pulling him into a tight hug. "Thanks, Mike, but we're fine. Really."
Over her shoulder he can see Santana's frown deepen and he knows he might be risking life and limb, but he returns the embrace anyway. "You sure, Brittany?"
"Positive." She pulls away from him, nodding slightly.
"Then okay. Let's go, Puck." He's not sure who's more confused right now. Puck or Santana. He starts to go back downstairs but he only makes it two steps before Santana stops him. "Hold on. Give us a minute, will ya?" Then she's taken Brittany's hand and led her back into the bedroom. He stays where he is, but Puck moves closer to the door. Santana has pushed it closed, but it's still open a crack, and Puck is clearly planning on listening in. Mike soon finds himself joining him, straining to hear what's being said inside.
"B, earlier, when you said you went for a walk? Did you go see Mike?"
"No."
"Brittany."
"He came to see me."
"And?"
"And nothing."
"You talked to him though?"
"Well, yeah, it would have been rude to just ignore him."
"I mean you talked to him talked to him."
"No, not really. He's just..." He hears the hesitation in Brittany's voice, knows she's carefully choosing her words. "He's just worried about us."
There's silence for a moment, then he hears Santana say, "Okay, okay."
He hears footsteps heading back towards them and both he and Puck spring as far away as they can.. The door opens and Santana walks out into the hallway. "Hey, boy Chang? You're gonna do me a favor."
It's not a question, so he simply nods.
"Look after my girl for a couple of hours, yeah? I got something I need to do."
He notices she's put on a jacket and she pushes past him, moving towards the stairs. "Come on, Puckerman. We're going to have the conversation about you turning up in my bedroom uninvited. Again."
Puck's shoulders slump. "You owe me, Chang. You owe me big for this." He deliberately bumps into Mike as he passes him, then follows Santana.
After a moment, Mike realises that he can't just stand here all night, so he takes a deep breath and enters Santana's room to find Brittany sitting on the edge of the bed.
He shoves his hands into his pockets. "What just happened?"
Brittany doesn't look like she has any more idea than he does. He sits down beside her, unsure of what his next move should be. He'd been so focused on getting them in here, getting to Brittany that he hasn't even thought about what comes after, about just how exactly he thinks he can help her. Eventually he just says, "You need to sleep."
"Can't."
"You can't be there for her if you don't take care of yourself."
She doesn't say anything, just stares at her hands, clasped together in her lap. He has a different idea all of a sudden and jumps to his feet, jogging over to where Santana's Ipod is sat in its dock.
She turns to watch him. "What are you doing?"
He ignores her, just grabs the Ipod and begins flicking through the playlists. Judging by the titles, some of them have to have been created by Brittany, the rest give him a scary insight into Santana's current state of mind.. One playlist catches his eye though and he turns to Brittany, eyebrow raised. "Shawty and Boo?"
She turns bright red and is on her feet, trying to take the Ipod from him. "Put it down. Santana will kill you."
He easily holds it out of her reach and shakes his head. They tussle for a moment, but then disappointingly, Brittany gives up and walks back over to the bed, dropping onto her back. "Fine, but just don't blame me when Snix snaps your neck."
He glances from her to the Ipod and decides he'll take his chances. He clicks into the playlist and smiles slightly. Yeah, this will definitely suit his needs. He places it into the dock and starts the first song. He starts to move and Brittany sits up on her elbows to watch him. He works his way over to her and holds out a hand. "Well if you don't want to sleep, then dance with me, Pierce."
He can see the conflict behind her eyes as she hesitates, but she's a dancer, just like him, and she can't resist the beat for long.
Puck's still trying to figure out how exactly he's ended up in trouble here. This whole thing had been Mike's idea, yet he's the one who's receiving death glares from Santana and is currently having to follow after her like a freaking lap dog. Once downstairs, he follows her through the kitchen and out the back door. She doesn't go far though, just walks over to the swimming pool where she kicks her shoes off, and sits down on the edge, dangling her feet in the water. She hasn't at any point looked back to see if he's following her, and he guesses she doesn't much care if he does or not. She pulls a packet of cigarettes out of her pocket and lights one. He glances back at the house, trying to decide whether he's safer just leaving, but Mike's his ride and he doesn't much fancy having to walk home. He waits another moment, then goes and sits down cross legged beside her. "You gonna share those smokes?"
"With you?" Her eyes narrow. "No."
"You wanna talk about it?"
"No."
Well this is turning into a really fun evening. So far she's nearly given him a concussion by launching a hairbrush at his head, she won't even offer him a cigarette and now apparently he gets to sit in awkward silence for god knows how long while Chang gets to play knight in shining armor to a hot blonde dancer.
"He thinks I'm not good enough for her, doesn't he?" She takes another drag on her cigarette, then suddenly is violently stubbing it out on the ground. It takes him a moment to figure out she's talking about Mike. "That's what you all think."
She's staring at him, and something in her eyes tells him that his answer here might just make or break her. Problem is he's not sure what exactly she's looking for. He has no idea what Mike thinks, and it's not exactly something he's ever given much thought to. As far as he's concerned they've always just been Brittany and Santana, and he can't imagine them ever not being together.
She must take his silence as confirmation though as she looks away, rubbing furiously at her eyes. A crying Santana Lopez is not something he knows how to handle and he wonders if maybe he should go get Brittany.
"And you're right. I just end up hurting her, all the fucking time. Like now. What does it say when Mike Chang can see that, but I can't? She deserves better. She deserves someone who can give her fucking everything, not someone that can't even..."
"Oh get over yourself, Lopez." He knows he's taking a risk by cutting her off, but no way is he going to sit here and listen to this crap. He'd rather go back to the awkward silence.
"Excuse me?" She turns slowly and gives him that death glare once again.
It's stopped her from crying though so maybe it's worth it. "You heard me." He's really not in the mood to join her pity party. "This isn't just about you. It's about her too, and that girl in there is fucking crazy about you. So what does it matter if people think you're not good enough for her? It should only matter what she thinks, and for whatever reason, she wants to be with you. So man up and stop giving a fuck what anyone else thinks and just be thankful that you've got a girl that worships you as much as she does."
She won't look at him now, instead staring down into the water. He can just about see her brow crease, as if she's thinking over what he's just said.
He gives her a minute, but when she still hasn't moved, he tells her, "I'm not going to apologize You know that, right?"
She turns her head, and frowns. "For what?"
"For singing that song. Chang said you were pissed about it, but I'm not gonna apologize"
"Oh please, we both know you weren't singing that song to me, but I don't give a shit about whatever new found drama you've got yourself caught up in this time. Although if it involves you seducing Berry again, then you have my full support."
That puts some very nice mother daughter fantasies into his head and he takes a moment to appreciate those thoughts, before shaking them off.
She lights up another cigarette and takes a long drag, but then glances down at it and scowls as if it's offended her somehow. She flicks it still lit into the pool. "God, these things taste like shit."
He nods back towards the house. "Wanna raid your dad's office? For old times sake?"
"What the hell. Besides it might be the last chance I get to do it."
He springs to his feet and holds out a hand to her, pulling her up when she takes it. She stumbles slightly and he has to place his hands on her waist to hold her steady. Standing with his arms around her, it suddenly hits him that things have changed between them now, that never again will she come crawling back into his bed, never again will they fall back into that pattern of mindlessly screwing each others brains out just because they could. And maybe that bothers him a little bit, and not just because the sex had always been amazing. He feels like he should be apologising for something, but he doesn't even know what. He opens his mouth to do so anyway, but she shakes her head slightly, her way of telling him not to, and then she's pushing past him towards the house.
They don't say anything until they're in her dad's study, and Santana glances back over her shoulder at him. "Do you wanna do the honors?"
"I think you should." It only feels right that she be the one to do the deed.
Santana searches the desk until she finds two paperclips, then she kneels down in front of the drawer and sets to work.
Puck sits down in the chair, leaning back and throwing his feet up on top of the desk. "You always did look good on your knees, Lopez."
He expects her to tell him where to go, what he doesn't expect is her to simply shrug and say, "I think Britt would definitely agree with you there."
He's sure his brain actually short circuits there for a moment at that thought and by the time it starts working again, she's managed to pick the lock and has the drawer open. He can't help feeling a surge of pride. "I taught you well, my padawan."
Her only response is to raise her middle finger in his direction. She lifts four Cubans from the box that she finds in there, placing them on top of the desk.. Then she grabs the bottle of scotch that's hidden at the back, opens it and takes a long drink straight out of the bottle. She follows that with a second hit, then passes it to him. She pushes the drawer shut, taking the time to re-lock it. The perfect crime, just like old times.
He pours some scotch down his throat. "I always did like your dad's study."
She stands up, snatches the bottle out of his hands and knocks back another mouthful. "What's not to like? Alcohol, expensive cigars, a desk that's just the right height for being bent over and fucked into next week."
He'd been nodding along in agreement when he suddenly pauses. He doesn't remember that last one. He remembers her riding him in this very chair one night, but the desk? He's certain that even if he had been completely wasted at the time, he would never forget something like that. "But I never...shit." He sits up, pulling his feet back to the floor and leaning forward to run a hand over the surface of the desk, almost reverently. "No way? Dude, for real?" He thinks this desk should be made a national treasure or something.
Santana has a hand over her eyes and groans, and he figures she's just realised that telling him that might not have been the best idea she's ever had.
He laughs, and leans back, pushing back with his feet so that the front legs of the chair lift off the floor. "Just so I can get the picture right in my head, are we talking strap-on or just some good old finger..."
He doesn't get any further with that sentence as Santana kicks out, her foot colliding with his shin. He tries to jerk back out of the way, but only succeeds in tipping the chair over, him crashing to the floor with it. He curses, rubbing at his shoulder. "What the hell, Lopez?"
She shrugs. "Like you didn't deserve it. You're just lucky this scotch is too expensive to waste throwing it in your face."
He sits up. "But if I'm gonna be your lesbro, this is exactly the kind of details I should get to hear. Otherwise what do I get out of it?"
"If you're gonna be my what now?" She pushes off the desk and takes a step closer to him, one hand on her hip.
"Your lesbro." When she just frowns at him, he falters slightly, but not enough to stop talking. "Sorry, I forgot you're still kinda new to this whole being a lesbian thing, but that's okay, cause I've been googling all this shit, so that I can help make sure you know everything you need to." He bounces on the balls on his feet, excited that his research is paying off. "Did you know there's like different kinds of lesbians? Lipstick lesbians, diesel dykes, femmes, though they might be the same thing as lipstick lesbians, I'm not sure." Okay so he might have found a lot of the information confusing, but then his mind did tend to keep wandering while he was clicking on the various links. "And we have to go to pride, cause apparently that's a really big deal, and it's supposed to be all kinds of awesome, and I'm not sure where the nearest one is, but I can find out, and we can go next summer. We can ask Kurt and Blaine to come and it can be like a road trip."
She slowly backs away from him until she's in the corner of the room, her eyes wide. "I can't...I'm not..."
"What?" He'd thought she'd be pleased that he was taking an interest, that he was being supportive, but there's only fear in her eyes. "Shit, are you having a panic attack or something?" If she isn't, then he's sure she must be close to one. She sinks down to the floor, her back pressed against the wall, and she draws her knees up to her chest. She's still clutching the scotch bottle, and he keeps that in mind as he approaches her, just in case she decides to launch that at his head. "Seriously, what's with you?" He crouches down in front of her, but she won't even look at him.
She mumbles something but he can't make it out. He decides to try and take the bottle from her, for his safety more than hers, but when he reaches for it, she jerks it away from him. "Why does nobody understand that I don't want this? You're all acting like I'm a bitch for not wanting to walk around waving the rainbow flag or whatever. But do none of you fucking get it? I don't want any of this."
Angry Santana, now that he can handle, he's had plenty of experience. Something tells him she needs to lash out at someone and soon, and if that means him taking one for the team, well he's prepared to do just that. He decides though that he might as well speed this whole process up and he goes straight for her berserk button. "Except for Brittany."
Her head snaps up and she glares at him. "What?"
"Except for Brittany. You want her, right?" He stands, putting a little distance between them. He doesn't have a death wish after all. "I mean, you tried not to, tried real hard, but you couldn't stop wanting her. How many times did you fuck me, hoping that I'd magically make you straight, but instead you spent the whole time time wishing it was her inside you instead? Her hands on you. Her mouth on you."
Well his plan works, maybe a little too well as she's on her feet in seconds and in his face. She pushes him. Hard. "Shut up. You don't have a fucking clue what you're talking about."
"Yes, I do."
She goes to push him again but this time he grabs her arms and spins her around, pulling her against him, her back pressed into his chest. "Lemme go, Puck."
She struggles but he just tightens his grip. "No, because you're giving me that look."
"What look?"
"The same look you gave me Freshman year, just before you broke my nose."
"You deserved it."
"Why?" He knows why, he just needs her to admit it, not to him, but to herself.
"Because you slept with her. You slept with her and it hurt so fucking much because I..." She stops fighting him now, and starts to sob.
He wraps his arms around her, just holding her. "Because you were in love with her?" He doesn't need her to answer, they both know it's the truth. "You've been in love with her this whole time. And that is why you're going to get your shit together, and start dealing with your fucking issues. Not because of anything Finn or the rest of us say or do. You're gonna do it because of that girl upstairs. Because you're in love with her and she's in love with you, and you know she's worth all the crap you'll have to put up with to be with her."
When she starts wiping at her eyes, and is no longer shaking, he lets her go. She keeps her gaze on the floor but he doesn't push her any more. He walks over to the desk and picks up the cigars. "So are we going to smoke these bad boys or what?"
She just nods and they head back outside and sit down on the back porch. She shuffles closer to him and rests her head on his shoulder. He slides an arm around her shoulder and they sit there, smoking cigars and drinking scotch, and okay so maybe it doesn't feel like old times, but it makes him think she just might let him be her lesbro afterall and he's more than okay with that.
Santana isn't sure how long she's been sitting on her back porch with Noah Puckerman like it's Sophomore year all over again. The cigars were finished a while ago, and the scotch had been abandoned as soon as everything had started to spin. Puck's lying on his back, snoring, though she isn't sure at what point he fell asleep. She however feels wide awake for the first time in days, though she knows she shouldn't. She should want nothing other than to sleep, but instead she's feeling wired. The temperature has dropped and she shivers against the cold. She slips her jacket off and drapes it over Puck's chest. She probably should wake him, but she knows how difficult a task that is, and he's never grateful for his sleep being interrupted, so she leaves him there and heads back inside.
She's at the bottom of the stairs before she manages to stop herself and carries on into the living room instead. Brittany needs a break from her, she's pretty sure that had been the whole point of Mike Chang's visit so fine, she'll give her girl some space. She grabs the TV remote and sinks down onto the sofa. She flicks through the channels but there's nothing decent on, so she settles for watching infomercials.
She hasn't been there long when she hears footsteps on the stairs and then Mike Chang is poking his head in the room. He looks nervous, as if he's worried that she's going to be mad at him. She draws her knees up to her chest to make room for him on the sofa and gestures for him to join her.
He does, but he's still wary. "She's asleep."
She nods, not sure what exactly he's expecting from her. "So's your boy." She points towards the back door. "Though that might have something to do with the scotch he's been knocking back."
Mike doesn't say anything and it suddenly hits her that she's never been alone in a room with him before now. Maybe she's avoided spending time with because of how close he and Brittany are. Or were. Or maybe it's because she's always felt like he's judging her whenever he looks at her, disapproval in his eyes. She inhales sharply and it's enough to get him to turn to her. "Listen up, Jackie Chan, I'm taking a chance on you here, but if you think you can screw me over..."
He frowns. "Taking a chance?"
"Yeah. I left you alone in my bedroom with my girlfriend, who just so happens to be your ex-girlfriend."
"You don't trust Brittany?"
"Oh I trust her just fine. You on the other hand? Not so much."
He looks offended, as if she's insulted his honor by even suggesting such a thing. "Are you always so cynical? So sure that everyone is out to get you?"
"Yeah, because I'm usually right."
"She's a friend. I was just worried about her. About both of you."
"Worried about me?" She laughs. "Don't be. I'm just peachy."
He turns so that he's watching the television and not her. "It's three in the morning, Santana. So where are your parents?"
"I don't know." She does know. They're at a medical conference in Chicago if the note that had been left on the fridge is anything to go by. Not that she'd even known they were going out of town, not until she'd come home from school to find them gone and the usual three hundred dollars sitting on the kitchen counter, just in case she needed any money before they got back. Apparently they've been gone all week so she's been hiding out at Brittany's for no reason, but whatever.
Mike sighs, but doesn't push the issue. "It's just that Brittany's so busy worrying about you, that I just thought someone needed to worry about her."
"It isn't your job to worry about her."
"No, it's yours." He keeps his voice calm, but she can hear the faintest trace of anger. "But you're no use to her right now because you're drowning."
His words cut into her, just enough to stop her from snapping out any response to what he's saying.
"And she's working so hard to keep you afloat that she's exhausted."
She knows he's right, she'd seen it earlier when Mike and Puck has first shown up. She just doesn't know how she hadn't seen it before.
"But it's okay, because this is what friends are for, to help when you're too tired to do it alone."
"We've never been friends, Mike." She's not sure why she feels the need to point that out.
"No, but I'm Brittany's friend, and you're her girlfriend. So I'm hoping that you'll stop hating me at least."
She's never hated him, not really. She's always been jealous of him, but never hated him. Not that she plans on admitting any of that. "I suppose I can try. But long as you know I'm doing this for Brittany, not for you."
He offers her a small smile. "And that's exactly how it should be."
Mike stays for a while, the two of them watching TV in silence until Puck stumbles inside, moaning about them leaving him to freeze to death in the back yard. Once they leave, Santana locks up and makes her way upstairs. She had considered sleeping on the sofa, or not sleeping seeing as there really isn't much point going to bed at this point, but she can't stand the thought of waking up not in Brittany's arms, not when she doesn't have to.
She enters her room to find the bed empty, but there's the sound of running water coming from the bathroom. She finds Brittany lent over the sink, both palms flat against the counter, staring down into the basin watching the water flow out of the tap. She looks up, she doesn't turn around but locks gazes with Santana through the mirror, and asks, "You okay?"
There's no answer Santana could even begin to give to that question right now, so she simply shrugs. Brittany frowns, has that look she gets when she wants to say something but isn't sure whether she's allowed to or not. Santana hates that look. Especially when she's the cause of it.
She wraps her arms tighter around herself. "I'm sorry."
Brittany does turn around now, perching on the edge of the counter. "For what?"
Another question that she's not sure she can answer. For being so weak. For being so scared. For everything. It's very rare that Santana has to explain herself when it comes to Brittany. Normally no matter what she says, Brittany just gets her. How she wishes this was one of those times. She wants to just shrug again, play it of as no big deal, but that haunted expression is still there in Brittany's eyes and the need to make that go away overrides her fear for once. "I just realised how shit I am at this. This whole being in a relationship thing. I don't have a fucking clue how to be someone's girlfriend."
Brittany's expression softens and she takes a step towards her. "San..."
She holds a hand up to stop her, needing a moment to figure out the right words, needing to say this before she chickens out. "No, it's true. I've been too busy feeling sorry for myself and falling into a near catatonic state, that I haven't once asked if you're okay. Haven't even bothered to see how my girlfriend is coping with all this shit. I mean, who even does that?"
Now it's Brittany's turn to shrug. "This isn't about me."
"But it should be. That's the point. All this effects you as much as it does me. And the stupid Glee club have taken to serenading me at every opportunity yet not one of them, except for Mike, has done anything for you, has even checked to see how you're handling all this. And I've had my head so far up my ass that it's taken me this long to notice and to realise that I haven't even asked if you're okay. So yeah, I must be the worst girlfriend ever, and you deserve so much more, someone who's better at this whole romance thing, someone who's braver, who's stronger, and..."
"Stop!"
She'd been too busy trying to wipe the tears out of her eyes, that she's not even sure when Brittany moved to stand in front of her, but she's there now, pulling Santana's hands away from her face and quickly entwining their fingers.
"Just stop, please."
She stops talking, but can't bring herself to look at Brittany, keeps her eyes fixed on the floor. Brittany apparently doesn't plan on giving her a choice in that matter though, as she suddenly feels warm fingers lifting her chin until she's staring into blue eyes. Blue eyes that are now crying as much as hers.
"Haven't you figured it out by now? I don't want anyone else. I've waited for you, waited for this for so long, and now that we're here, you don't get to bail on me. I'm not going to let you do that to me, to us, to yourself. So you have to stop, okay?"
Brittany leans forward to rest her forehead against Santana's and takes a deep breath. "I love you. You can try to push me away as much as you want, but you know what? I'm stronger than you, so this is a battle you won't win. I'm not going anywhere. Sooner you accept that and stop fighting me, then the sooner, we can start fighting everyone else."
"My parents get home tomorrow."
Brittany tenses but doesn't say anything.
"They get home tomorrow, Britt, and I'm going to tell them." She has to, she can't keep putting this off any longer. Now that she knows everything is starting to take its toll on Brittany, well she needs to do something to ease the pressure, for both their sakes.
Brittany looks worried but she nods. "Okay."
"But enough about me. What do you need?"
"I need to know you're okay." Brittany slides her hands into Santana's back pockets and pulls her closer to her until their hips are pressed together.
"I am. How can I not be when I've got you?" Santana kisses her, wrapping her arms around her neck so she can pull her in to deepen the kiss. When Brittany whimpers and rolls her hips into hers, she's reminded that it's been far too long since the last time they were together, but she pushes those thoughts away for now and pulls away. "Seriously though, Brittany, can we talk about you for a minute?"
Brittany drops her gaze to the floor. "We don't need to."
"No, but I want to, so talk to me, B." She slides her arms down until they're resting at the small of Brittany's back. "What's going on in that head of yours?"
"Mostly I'm just worried about you. I'm lucky, my parents have always said that us kids could be whoever or whatever we wanted. They were always going to be cool with me being in love with you."
Santana can't help the slight pang of jealousy that settles in her chest, but at the same time she's glad that Brittany has that, that she doesn't have to ever be scared of losing her family over this.
Brittany presses a kiss to her forehead. "But it scares me that you don't have that, and what that will mean for us if your parents aren't okay with this."
Santana's given this a lot of thought recently, she's had to, she just wishes she'd talked it through with Brittany before now. "It doesn't matter. What they think isn't going to change how I feel about you and I'm not going to let them come between us. I mean I hope it doesn't come down to that, but if I have to choose, I'd choose you every time."
"But..."
Santana shakes her head. "We'll figure the rest out if it happens, okay?"
That seems to be enough for Brittany for now. "Okay."
Something else suddenly occurs to her. "Hey, Britt, what does all this mean for your campaign? If people don't vote for you because of this, then I..." She trails off, not really knowing what she'd do.
Brittany tilts her head, her brow creasing as if she's trying to recall some information that's buried deep in her brain. "According to Jewfro's polling, eighty-five percent of the school already thought we were a couple before all this anyway so between you and me, I think my victory is pretty much a dead cert."
"Eighty-five percent? Really?" She winces. So much for her thinking they'd hidden it well until Finn opened his big mouth.
"So Jewfro says."
Oddly enough, whilst he may be a creepy little pervert, Santana has to admit that Jewfro does seem to know what he's talking about when it comes to polling figures. "So does that mean I have to start calling you Madame President now?"
"I think so."
"Even in the bedroom?"
"Especially in the bedroom." Brittany leans in to claim her lips again and the next thing Santana knows is she's being carried to the bed. So much for them getting any sleep tonight.