A/N: So here's the first part of Santana's Halloween party. I had a lot of fun adding Santana and Quinn to this story. Rated T for language and underage drinking. Also I mean no offense to religious folks for Puck and Finn's taste in Halloween costumes. Thanks for sticking with me. Enjoy!

Chapter 8

The sun had already set by the time the boys made it to Santana's doorstep on Franklin Avenue in Lima Heights Adjacent. She pulled open the door wearing a slutty nurse costume and a scowl. Finn was ninety-nine percent sure that if he'd been born a girl, he'd have a snowball's chance in hell at being allowed out with that thing on. Santana grabbed them both by the collars of their robes and yanked them over the threshold.

"'Bout time you assholes showed up," she snapped.

"Nice to see you too, Santana," Finn retorted, feeling emboldened by his half can of beer.

"Shut it, Man Boobs!" Santana sneered. She grabbed Puck roughly by the neck and kissed him lewdly on the mouth. Finn scowled and looked away.

There was a pretty good turnout of people crammed into the Lopez's tiny house, most of them underclassmen and many of them already stumbling around drunk off wine coolers and natty light. Sexy Can I was blasting from Santana's ipod docked on the stovetop and Finn scanned the room for Quinn Fabray. His heart fluttered as he spotted her by the kitchen counter talking to her friend Brittany. She was dressed as a sexy gypsy and he felt his face heat up as he looked her up and down. Brittany, in a red devil dress that Finn felt would be more appropriate on Santana, saw him and waved him over.

"Hi Finn, what're you supposed to be?" she asked pleasantly, handing him a peach flavored wine cooler from the dwindling stash in the fridge.

"Oh, hey Brittany, I'm Moses—"

"You're silly, Finn. That's not how the first president of the United States dressed. No one wore robes back in the fifteenth century."

"Right…" Finn said slowly, taking a swig from his wine cooler so he didn't have to respond. "Er—hi Quinn!" he said a little louder than he meant to, looking at her hopefully. She turned just as Puck appeared at Finn's elbow, a beer in hand and his arm around Santana's shoulders.

Quinn didn't look amused. "Are you two serious right now?" she asked darkly, her eyes narrowing dangerously as they darted between Finn and Puck.

"What?" asked Finn, shuffling his feet nervously. Quinn had this ability to make him feel five inches tall when she wanted to. Beside him, Puck was grinning nastily.

"Do you have any idea how offensive your costumes are?" she asked, putting a hand on her hip. "Especially you, Puckerman. How dare you make a mockery of my Lord and Savior?"

"We—we—" Finn wanted desperately to explain that they meant no offense, but Puck had already sidled forward and put an arm around Quinn's waist, his hand dangerously close to her ass. She sneered and shoved him off.

"Relax, baby. Jesus was a hot Jewish stud, just like me! If anything, I'm doing him more justice than any of the crap they show you in Sunday Sch—Ouch!"

Quinn had wound back and slapped him hard across the face. Finn's eyes widened in shock. Puck, meanwhile, didn't look phased one bit. He merely rubbed his cheek, grinning suggestively at Quinn.

"Ooh, I like it when you're rough with me. Let me turn the other cheek for you."

"Wanky," breathed Santana.

"You're disgusting!" spat Quinn, crossing her arms over her chest and stomping away. Finn stared, bemused, at her retreating back.

"The Virgin Mary is a little holier-than-thou today," Santana said, her eyes flashing hungrily as she grabbed Puck by the front of his robe and pulled him into a wet kiss that looked like all tongue from where Finn was standing. Finn watched with raised eyebrows as her hands trailed down his chest, stopping just above his crotch. "Now c'mon Jesus, don't make me wait any longer for the Second Coming."

"Don't worry, baby, Jesus isn't the only one getting nailed tonight," Puck replied, grabbing her ass through her skimpy nurse uniform, and Finn was so mortified he had to look away.

Deciding it'd be best to just leave Puck and Santana to it, he drained his wine cooler in one long gulp and went off to comfort Quinn. As he searched the house for her, he wondered why he felt a sudden animosity towards Santana. Sure, she was a major bitch and everything, but she really hadn't done anything worse than her usual baseline behavior this time. A quiet voice in his conscience suggested that maybe it just wasn't cool seeing Santana put her damn hands all over Puck. But he had to stomp that voice out because why should he be anything but happy for his buddy getting his dick wet?

He decided he was jealous. Yeah, that was it. Puck had all the luck with girls. He was totally jealous that Puck was hooking up with a foxy girl like Santana while he was stuck chasing after an angry one like Quinn. He was a hundred percent definitely not jealous of Santana. Definitely not. Even though that lucky bitch was hooking up with—

"Stop it," Finn whispered, giving himself a little shake.

He found Quinn sitting on the living room couch with her arms wrapped around herself. She was nursing a strawberry wine cooler and glaring at anyone who got too close.

"Uh—hey. Is this seat taken?" he asked almost shyly, gesturing to the spot next to her. She just glared and shrugged, so he cautiously sat down. "Listen…I'm really sorry if our costumes offended you. We were just trying to be funny. See, Puck and I throught—"

Quinn cut across him. "Why are you even friends with him? He's a jerk and a bad influence on you and you could do so much better!" she snapped, fixing him with her steely green eyes.

"I—hey, Puck's my best friend. And—and he may not be perfect, but he's a good guy. And he's really sweet when he wants to be." Finn thought about how Puck always let him be Player 1 when they were gaming, even if they were at Puck's house. A bad guy wouldn't be that generous, would he?

"Well, he's going to burn in hell," Quinn said matter-of-factly, sipping her drink petulantly.

"What? That's an awful thing to say!" said Finn, cringing at the thought of his best friend in hell, scared and crying and burning. It was a terrible thing and it hurt to think about it. He rubbed his forehead to clear it; he was starting to feel a little foggy from the wine cooler.

"Well, it's true."

Finn didn't think it was true at all, but he decided it would probably be best to divert the conversation off Puck. "So, uh…how's Cheerios practice going?"

That seemed to be a good idea because Quinn gave him a wide smile. The real kind. The kind that reached her eyes and made her look beautiful. "Coach says if I can perfect my full layout twist dismount I'll be in the running for head cheerleader next season!"

"That's great!" said Finn excitedly, and he meant it. He really wanted great things to happen for Quinn. "Coach says I could be starting QB next year if we win our game in Dayton this week."

"Oh really? That's wonderful," Quinn smiled at him, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. Her look was very calculating, and Finn wasn't quite sure why, but it didn't really matter because of what she said next. "Listen, Finn, you're really sweet. It was nice of you to come find me and try to make me feel better. Maybe you should take me out some time, just the two of us." She laid a hand on his wrist.

"Like on a date? I-I, um—yeah!" Finn stammered, unable to believe his luck. Her hand felt nice on his skin, small and dainty. But it didn't make his heart feel full like last night when Puck held his wrist in a death grip. "Would you—uh, would you maybe like to go to that indoor mini-golf place in the mall next Friday? A-and Breadstix?"

"Yeah, I'd like that," Quinn said, batting her long lashes at him.

They spent the next half hour talking, and Finn was feeling really confident and awesome. Quinn seemed to think so too because she was smiling and laughing at everything he said. He couldn't wait to tell Puck he'd scored a date with Quinn Fabray! His mind kept wandering back to Puck, even as Quinn told him about this super dangerous stunt Coach Sylvester was making the Cheerios do. Puck was probably balls deep in Santana right about now. Finn pictured it, Puck's strong arms wrapped around her shoulders; kissing her deeply as he looked down with those pretty hazel eyes. It was only slightly disturbing that he was picturing everything from Santana's perspective…

"Finn? Finn! Are you even listening to me?"

"Wha—yeah! Of course I am! Coach Sylvester's making you jump through hoops of fire—"

"Hey, Finn, there you are, man! I was looking all over for you!"

He looked over his shoulder in time to see a very drunk Puck barreling towards them, pulling a giggling Santana by the hand in his wake. He flopped on the couch, landing halfway across Finn's lap. Santana, who was uncharacteristically giddy, stumbled over and knocked Quinn to the side. Quinn moved her drink away just in time before it spilled all over her beautiful gypsy dress.

"Uh, hey there, buddy," Finn managed to eke out as Puck threw his arms around his neck, laying his head on his shoulder. His homemade crown of thorns dug rather painfully into Finn's jaw.

"Did I ever tell you how much I love you?" Puck asked very loudly, readjusting himself so he was even more in Finn's lap. Santana giggled, wedged between the boys and an annoyed looking Quinn.

"Uh, no," Finn said slowly, trying not to squirm despite his body finding this whole thing very exciting. "But you didn't have to, I—I already know you do." He put his arms around Puck and slapped him on the back in a manner that he hoped looked like they were just two drunk bros hugging it out.

"That's why you're the best!" Puck shouted, squeezing Finn so tight it hurt. "See Santana?" He nudged her with his knee. "That's why Finn's the best. He already knows I love him!"

The Hispanic girl shrugged, a Cheshire cat grin plastered across her face. Beside her, Quinn looked particularly disgusted, clearly not appreciating this invasion of her personal space. "Yes, he definitely has a lot of love stored in those cottage cheese nipples of his," Santana said nastily.

Finn bristled and Quinn gave her a scathing look. Puck merely laughed and shook his head. "Nah, Finn's nipples are fine. They're just as nice as yours are, Santana."

"Wait, hold up," said Santana, nearly slapping Quinn in the face as she threw up a hand. "You've seen Finn's nipples? And you didn't turn to stone?"

Cheeks burning, Finn opened his mouth to tell Santana to fuck off, but Puck was already talking. "It didn't turn all of me to stone, if you know what I mean, just a certain part actually—"

"Ew! Oh my god! Alright, that's enough, everybody up!" Quinn shouted, pushing a giggling Santana off her and getting roughly to her feet. Puck nearly fell to the floor but Finn braced him with a hand on the shoulder. "You two are disgusting," she said venomously, pointing her finger accusingly between Puck and Santana. "Especially you, Puckerman! I'm leaving! And Finn…" her voice took on a gentler tone as she got on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. "I'm really looking forward to Friday with you."

Finn felt like he could float away. Before he could think of a reply, Azimio Adams, who was dressed very convincingly as Mr. T, bounded into the room holding his cell phone over his head.

"My brother's bringing over a thirty rack!" he yelled to a chorus of cheers.

Santana looked very relieved. "Oh thank god! Looks like I have a little more time before busting out my secret medicine. Quinn, by the way, you were so right."

"About what?" spat the other girl, who already had her jacket on and was texting her dad for a ride.

"I was scared my party would be totally lame after my cousin got busted halfway through the beer run. But then I did what you said to do."

"I'm probably going to regret this, but what did I say?" Quinn hissed, putting a hand on her hip.

"You're always saying I should pray more. So I did. I got down on my knees and prayed to Jesus. And look! All my prayers were answered!" Grinning rudely, she slapped Puck on the ass, the implications of her words hanging heavily in the air.

Quinn's face turned a deep shade of red as her eyes darted between Puck and Santana. Her mouth formed a thin line and she looked like she really wanted to yell but couldn't come up with the proper words to transmit her level of anger. Instead, she turned on her heel and stomped out of the house, her gypsy bangles clinking merrily on her wrists. All the while, Finn stood there with his mouth agape because he was just too plain mortified to close it.