7. UNWIND

The next morning goes rather smoothly, even if you had the weirdest dream ever. You dreamt you were in Paris feeling all lonely and blue, and an unicorn felt down the Eiffel Tower. If that isn't weird enough, when you got closer, you realised the unicorn had Santana's face. Anyway, you don't dwell so much on that as you take turns with Santana to take showers, and have breakfast. Santana is till rather quiet, and you kind of prefer her sexy, sultry, flirty self, but you don't want to be pushy so you just make some small talk here and there to fill the deafening silence. You also lend her some more clothes, a pair of simple black leggings and a white tank top. Maybe that was a mistake, her boobs look absolutely delicious in that thing, the size difference between you two is quite the opposite in that area, she does have bigger breasts than you do, so the top is a bit tight on her. Again, just delicious.

Thankfully, or maybe not, she throws on your Pierce hoodie before you get out of your apartment. You examine her subtly, or you hope it is subtly, and you notice she looks better already. Her lip is almost fully healed and the bruises on her face have started to fade slightly. She still walks a bit awkwardly and her face is a bit swollen, but she looks better. Either way, your first stop this morning is the Emergency Room. You need their report to send to Officer Puckerman, so you can take care of the mess you made when you decided to step out of protocol.

So that is what you do. You drive her there, you explain your situation; well, you mask it a little bit, since you don't tell them you have kept the lady captive for a whole day. That sounded...interesting, in your head at least. Not too long after you get Santana to the E.R, you are out of there with the diagnose you already predicted. She does have a broken rib, but there is not much to be done other than rest to heal that, and the rest of the wounds and injuries are superficial, they should heal by themselves. Maybe you should have been a doctor.

Your next stop is at your community centre. Well, it's not actually yours, but you are one of the main money investors, so it might as well be. You were there when Cheryl founded it, it was only four walls and a desk by then, but you had met Cheryl at college and she was so passionate you fell in love with her idea, but with your studies and your work, you didn't have the time to be an active member of the centre, so you did the second best: you put most of your money on it. It started just offering poor families some shelter for the children for a couple hours while the parents did their thing, like look for jobs, or whatever. Nowadays it's a really big centre. You offer shelter for the homeless, you offer free courses for everyone, and just a place to be when everything seems to be going wrong. But most importantly, you have a series of safe houses for people in dangerous situations, some of them are for abused children, or children that are waiting for social services to do something for them (you love your job with all sour heart and soul, but you are perfectly aware that the system actually sucks). And most importantly, part of the whole centre is solely dedicated to domestic violence victims. You have safe houses for them, you have people specialised in all the paperwork they might need to do, going from police reports, to filing for any government help and anything in between; you have psychologists, personal trainers, and all kinds of manual therapists to help them (from PT's to Reiki masters or meditation coaches). You are actually extremely proud of it. It makes your soul and heart happy, and you trust all the people working there with your life.

"Good morning, Hasan." You greet the handsome boy who is this morning sitting behind the register counter. You revisit Santana's question about all your friends being hot. Hasan is not exactly your friend, but he is cool to hang out with sometimes, and he is very hot. He is originally from Morocco, so he has this darker, almost Hispanic (like Santana's), skin tone, and Mediterranean features. Thick dark hair, strong jaw, big olive eyes. Yes, very handsome.

"This is Santana Keating, but she prefers to go as Santana Lopez." You continue, ignoring your train of thought. "Please, take care of her. She needs all the help and advice you can give her. Answer every question she might have. Everything. Oh, and she needs a safe house for now." You explain. You don't need to tell him why though, Santana's face is pretty self explanatory.

"How can I get my name back?" You hear Santana ask. Wow, she is adamant.

"Well, you first need to file for a divorce..." Hasan says, and you see the disappointment set deep in the brunette's eyes.

"Oh." She mutters.

"I really need to go." You say, biting your lower lip nervously. You actually don't want to leave, but if you stay there for just a second longer, you know you are going to drag Santana back to your place and hide her there, and you don't need any more trouble for now. "You are safe here, Santana. I promise you. Please, take care of yourself and be happy." It's kind of a very final goodbye. You know that once everything sets in motion you probably will not see her again. That thought doesn't sit well with you.

Not waiting for an answer, you turn around, but your steps are stopped by a small tan hand wrapping around your wrist. When you turn around again your vision is blinded by a dark mane as Santana lunches forwards wrapping her arms around your neck.

"Thank you, Brittany. I know I can be a lot to handle, but you have been absolutely fantastic to me." She whispers in your ear and you can't help but tighten your arms around her waist. "Oh, and by the way, your ass looks fantastic on those jeans..." She adds in that sultry-sexy-vixen way of hers before she pulls away like nothing happened and you are frozen on your spot completely dumbfounded.

When you finally regain your basic functions and leave the community centre, you decide you need to do something to unwind all the pent up energy you have. You kind of want to go to the beach, but that is one hell of a ride, and you really don't want to be in your car, alone, for such a long time. You could go to a party tonight, find someone, hit it and quit it. But yeah, you are not in the mood for that either. You decide, after a while, that you are going to hit the gym first, and then you will see.

The gym is fun for a while, but it's not helping you relax at all, actually it's making you think more and that is making your head hurt. You need something that will blank your mind for a while. Finally, you decide to call Sam.

No, you are not going for an orgasm here, hold your horses.

Sam is your bother. Well, not really. His parents are not your parents, so yeah, he is not your blood brother, but he is your soul brother or whatever. You met him in kinder-garden and have been friends with him ever since. You even had a thing for a few months in high school. Gross. Thankfully, you both soon realised that your feelings where way more fraternal than romantic. Your relationship with him has gone through rough patches, you are kind of going through one right now since he really was an ass to you after your last romantic break up (he sided with the douche-bag of your ex), but you know he will always be there for you. Even if you stopped talking altogether and suddenly you called him at four in the morning five years later, he's be there for you. You just hope that never happens, even if you still have sore feelings for the boy, you need him in your life, he has always been your rock.

"Yo, Sammy-boy." You greet him when he picks up the phone. "Still got my dirt bike in that filthy garage of yours?"

After talking to him for a couple minutes, you hop back in your car and start driving again. Images of Santana fill your mind again as you drive, but you try to pull them away. You wonder if she is doing okay, where is she now, what is she thinking. It's just been a couple hours since you left her, so you know she is fine, most likely, but you can't help worrying. You really want to see her again. And you really need to talk to Noah to fix all your mess, but you can't deal with that now.

After a while, you are parking in front of Evan's Bikes&More, the garage your friend Sam runs. He mostly fixes, repairs and prepares motocross and race bikes, but give him any kind of bike and he will do wonders on it, even if it's just a common, boring, bicycle. He also has recently hired Finn Hudson, one of the best car mechanics in the whole state, so the business is looking very good for him. You are happy for him.

"Why, hello there, baby Pierce." He greets you with a bear hug once he sees you. "Your chariot awaits." He adds with a chuckle as he leads you to the back of the shop and your eyes twinkle at the sight. You haven't rode in such a long time, you are actually nervous. You take a moment to ride down memory lane to your high school days, when you were a really promising motocross star. Riding a bike has always freed you from everything. It was a shame that you had that accident and fucked up your knee, taking you away from competing. But you could always race your brother just for fun.

As you mount your dirt bike and rev it, you actually moan out loud. The sound of the engine, the vibration underneath you, the weight of the bike, the heat it provides...it's another level of arousing. You forget about Santana, you forget about your job, you forget about your friends and about all your concerns. You let yourself be just you. Not the functioning adult with responsibilities your 3rd decade on this world has brought you. Just the free, kid-spirited, nature child you have always been. And it feels amazing.

"The last to complete three laps is a pussy!" You yell to Sam from underneath your helmet, and without giving him any time to react, you are already racing down the dirt road full speed.

Turns out you are the pussy. You blame your time off the roads, and your fucked up knee, because there is no other way Sam has become a better rider than you, but you haven't had this much fun for a very long time. You are exhausted, but you can't keep yourself from smiling a giggling as you sip on the beer Sam offered you once you got back to the garage.

"Thank's Sam. I needed this." You tell him as you finally start to calm down.

"Anytime. I got'cha." He says with his slight southern accent and you rest your head on his board shoulder.

"I think I need to tell you something..." You mutter with a sigh, cuddling further into him.