Backlog: Partying, Partying, Yeah!
WHO: Brittany Pierce and Santana Lopez
WHAT: Getting in over your head
WHERE: Party at a Rich Dude’s House
WHEN: October 14, 2011
Brittany was drunk. And not a little bit drunk, like when she’d shared drinks with Santana at a party a month ago, but really drunk. Quinn had invited her out to a party, and Santana hadn’t been able to go along with them. She’d known why at the beginning of the night, but the knowledge had long since abandoned her. She’d been having a good time dancing with everyone, wearing a new dress she’d bought just for the occasion and makeup that Quinn had helped her apply. Everyone seemed to like her, and they kept giving her drinks - which she drank, because she didn’t want to be rude. After the last one, though, she was starting to feel dizzy - and the boy she was dancing with kept touching places he shouldn’t have been touching. Mumbling something about the bathroom, Brittany stumbled away and took refuge behind the barbecue. She looked around for Quinn, but couldn’t see her. So, with a sigh, she took out her phone and texted Santana. It made sense to her while she was typing, but if she’d looked over the message she’d have seen that what came out was nearly gibberish. Fortunately, she was way too drunk to care by then.
San? I wanna og. He keps touiching my privat spots.
Santana hated being grounded. It was so stupid. Hector was stupid too. He’d started the fight with her then got mad when she hadn’t let him say whatever he wanted to her. Pendejo. Her mom had grounded her for the whole weekend. Now she was probably missing an awesome party that everyone would be talking about on Monday and she’d have to say she couldn’t go for some lameass reason. Plus, it was Britts’ first high school party and she was missing out. Not cool.
Her phone buzzed and she frowned, grabbing it. She blinked a few times, hoping to make sense of the jumbled letters. What the hell was Brittany even trying to say?
Are you drunk, B?
Brittany tried to make sense of what the two phones in her hand said. Just when she was about to give up, she shook her head and they turned into one phone. It was like magic! She was a wizard, just like in Harry Potter! She had to tell Santana! She frowned. Santana...something about Santana. The phone! She looked at it again, and this time it made sense. She tried to focus really hard on the keys as she typed, though, because her last message looked really funny.
I don know. People kep givin me drinks its nice o them. But teh boy who was dacnig with me keeps touchin me. i dont like it. An that last drimk made me feel funnee.
Rubbing her eyes, Santana slowly pieced together what Brittany was saying and frowned. Where the fuck was Quinn? How had she let Brittany get that drunk? Growling, Santana pressed down on Brittany’s name waiting for the phone to connect to the call.
When the phone rang in her hand, she nearly dropped it into the grass, but recovered with dexterity that would have surprised anyone if they’d been paying any attention. She saw Santana’s name on the display and grinned, searching for the green button that would let them talk. It only took two more rings for her to find it and put the phone to her ear. “San!” she shouted, before taking her voice down to a bit more appropriate volume. “Hi! I was jus’ talking to somebody about you. No - texting you! That’s what I was doing!”
Santana held the phone away from her ear with a wince. Fuck that was loud and yeah Brittany was super fucking drunk. Great. She was going to kill Quinn. “Hey, I’m on my way to come get you, okay? Don’t go back into the party and...and don’t go with anyone else either. Just wait til I get there and then we’ll go to my abuelita’s house and get you some food and Cuban coffee.” The latter of the two was super gross, but no way could they take Brittany home how she was.
Santana was coming? Okay, that made this party way better, even if she was confused. She’d thought Santana couldn’t come, wasn’t that why she wasn’t here? Shaking her head, she remembered to answer the question. “Don’t go in, and don’t leave. Got it,” she repeated. She was about to ask why they were going to Cuba for coffee when the boy who’d been dancing with her walked up behind her and teasingly snatched her phone out of her hand. “Hey!” she shouted. “I was talkin’, gimme that!” She moved toward him, only to trip over an empty keg and fall face-first onto the grass. “Ow!” she shouted, “stop it! Gimme that!”
Hearing the scuffle, Santana called out Brittany’s name a few times and then heard the call disconnect. She called back three times but it kept going to voicemail. Freaking out, she called her grandmother and begged her to meet her outside of her house. She wasn’t even going to bother to tell her mother she was leaving. Fuck it. She’d still be just as grounded tomorrow and Brittany was more important than getting in trouble.
The panic must’ve been evident in her voice because her grandmother was there in like no time. She ran out of the house, slamming the door behind her and jumped in the car. “Go,” she said in a low voice. Her phone rang and she looked down quickly, hoping it was Brittany, but saw it was her mother and ignored it.
“Are you going to tell me what this is all about, Santana?” Her abuelita asked after a few moments.
“Yeah, Brittany’s wasted at some party and some idiot has his hands all over her,” she spat out, brow furrowing in anger. She typed out a nasty little text message to Quinn, letting her know just how shitty of a friend she was.
The older woman was silent again, pulling onto the main street. “And why she not call her own parents? You’re a child-”
“I’m her friend, abuelita,” Santana countered, fixing the woman with a look. One she’d learned just from her.
“You’re still a child, mi’jita.” The words lingered in the air between them, but Santana chose to ignore them. She crossed her arms and sank down into her seat with a frown. They traveled ten more minutes or so before her grandmother spoke again. “What I’m supposed to tell your mother when she calls asking for you?”
“No me importa,” Santana mumbled, watching the scenery go by.
Her abuelita made a clicking noise. “Don’t sass, Santana, she is still your mother.”
Santana rolled her eyes. “Yeah? Well, she’s still your daughter. So, tell her what you want. I’ll still be in trouble tomorrow. Brittany needs me. She doesn’t.”
She heard her grandmother sigh again, but the silence settled between them again. As they got closer, Santana directed the woman towards the house, sighing in relief when she saw Brittany outside.
Brittany was shaking a little, but trying not to show just how scared she was. The boy - she still didn’t know his name - had dangled her phone like it was a prize, enticing her to come closer. She’d gotten up off the ground and followed him for a few steps, but stopped before she reached him. She was completely drunk, but she had a feeling in the pit of her stomach that she was in trouble - and that it could get a lot worse. When he’d offered the phone back to her on the condition that he could “play with her tits for a while,” she’d whimpered softly and backed away.
The boy, who wore a Letterman jacket and was really big, got mad then. He’d called her all kinds of names that she didn’t understand, and finally reared back and thrown her phone into the road before telling her to stay out of the party or he’d hurt her. She was pretty sure it didn’t work anymore, because the screen was broken and she couldn’t send a text to Santana. Which was why she was sitting on the curb trying to figure out what to do next when the car pulled up and she saw Santana inside. Sobbing with relief, she stumbled toward her and nearly tripped. The world was still spinning wildly - for some reason that last drink had hit her like a truck - and she just wanted to sit down somewhere safe for a while. She wanted to be away from the party, away from the boy that had made her feel so threatened and the drinks that were making her head spin.
Santana managed to catch Brittany, only stumbling a little. The blonde was sobbing and speaking incoherently. She managed to pull a few words out and get the gist of what happened. Brittany held up her broken phone and the Latina felt her fury bubble up inside of her. She kissed Brittany’s temple and murmured a few words to try to get her to calm down. Fuck, she was going to make that fucker pay. “Can you show me him at the party?” She asked in a voice way calmer than she felt.
Brittany sniffled. “I can try,” she mumbled. “But there’s, like, three of ev’rything. An’ he told me not to come back.” But it was Santana who was asking. Santana would keep her safe, right? She always did. So she nodded, the motion making her dizzy, and turned back toward the party. “Okay - I need you to hold me, though. The street’s all tilty.”
Nodding, Santana wrapped her arms around her friend and held her close. Her grandmother called behind her, but Santana ignored the woman, leading Brittany back to the party. The music was so loud the bass boomed against the walls, making the door shake. Santana looked around, trying to help Brittany. There was a group of jocks standing around the keg and still no Quinn in sight.
“Is he over there?” Santana asked, nodding towards the group.
Brittany squinted, trying to get her eyes to focus. At first the group of boys looked huge, but as they finally came into focus she could see there was only a few of them. The one filling his glass from the keg...no, that wasn’t him. The one off to the side...nope. The one on the other side....that was him. It was his hair that gave him away, the tips a startling blond. “Yeah,” she whispered. “He’s on the, uhm,” she held up her right hand. “On the left. With the colored hair.”
Santana’s eyes narrowed. Tyler James. He was junior and Santana had only hung around him a few times, but that guy was a fucking ass. And of course he was laughing his ass off with Grayson Rutledge. Santana’s fists clenched at her side. “Hey TYLER!” Santana shouted over the music.
The party sort of grew quiet as he turned around. His gaze flickered to Brittany then back to her and he smirked. “If she’d have told me she wanted to bring a friend along, then I wouldn’t have smashed the bitch’s phone.”
The crowd turned back to her and she stepped away from Brittany, handing her off to one of the nicer guys on the team, she thought maybe it was Mike or Matt or someone. She moved across the room and smiled sweetly up at him. “It’s cute that you think you’d ever stand a chance with either of us. There’s not enough alcohol in the world that would make the ugly mug smoochable.”
Someone from behind her yelled “burn!” and she smirked. Tyler’s eyes narrowed and he took a step towards her. “Oh please, Lopez, everybody knows that you’ll spread your legs like Nutella. Your friend, though, she looks brand new. I’d love to break her in.”
Shaking her head, Santana’s eyes grew cold. Say whatever they wanted about her. She didn’t care, but if this asshole thought she was going to let him anywhere near Brittany, he was sadly mistaken. She reached out and grabbed his crotch. He made a loud grunt and she twisted her hand, digging her nails painfully into his sack. “Listen to me, No Neck, if you ever” She punctuated the word by twisting her fingers even more. “...even think about coming near her again, I will chop off your balls and feed them to you Lima Heights style. Got it?” She could feel him shaking against her hand and grinned cruelly.
He yelp, sweat rolling down his forehead. He nodded and looked down at her. Santana tightened her grip. “Now, apologize to her and you’ll be buying her a brand new phone.” Tyler mumbled his first apology then said it louder when Santana wouldn’t relent. She released him and shoved him away, lifting her knee swiftly against his package to finish the job. “Now who’s the bitch?” She asked before turning on her heels. She stopped to grab Brittany from Matt and led her towards the door.
Everything seemed to be happening behind a fuzzy pane of glass, but Brittany was able to follow at least most of the action. On the one hand, she was afraid when Santana grabbed the boy, because she was still afraid of him and because he had so many friends who she was afraid might hurt her too, but in the end they all just stood there and watched. None of them did anything, and she got him to apologize, and to make him buy her a new phone? The second part almost meant more, because she was terrified of what her mom was going to say when she got home and her phone was broken.
“Thanks,” she muttered to Matt for holding her up, letting Santana wrap a careful arm around her before she started moving. “San,” she mumbled, “I’m sorry. I know you always have to save me. I didn’t mean to be so dumb tonight,” she knew she was slurring - it was bad enough that she could hear it herself - but she hoped she was at least understandable. “I thought I’d be okay. I thought I was grown up, and I could go to parties. But mostly I just feel sick now, and I was so scared.” Her voice shook. “You were right about me. I’m just a kid. I’m not grown up like you and Quinn. I shouldn’t...” she stopped, clutching her stomach and bending over a little. “I shouldn’t pretend. I won’t go to another one - you won’t have to save me again.” She could feel the tears on her face - she was so embarrassed by the night’s events.
She shouldn’t have tried so hard, maybe, but all she wanted was to do things that Santana did, so that they could spend more time together. But she was dumb, and she kept having to be rescued all the time. She knew it couldn’t have been fun for her friend to have to look after her that way. She should be able to look after herself. She should have known better than to drink everything she was given, and she definitely should have known better than to let herself get touched by a boy like that. She should have stayed with Quinn, been more careful.
“San,” she added weakly, “stop, stop for a sec, I don’t feel very good.”
They were outside and by bushes. So, Santana steered the blonde that way. She pulled her hair back and rubbed the middle of her shoulders as she emptied the contents of her stomach. Normally, Santana thought puking was gross, but she was mostly just focused on helping Brittany feel better.
When she was done, Santana helped her straighten and helped her back to the car. “Don’t apologize. You’re still in middle school. No one should’ve left you alone like that. Quinn knows better. Ooo I’m gonna smack the shit out of her when I see her on Monday.”
“Santana, language,” her abuelita scolded as she helped Brittany into the backseat.
She climbed in next and wrapped her arms around Brittany tightly. “Just close your eyes and try not to think anymore, okay? I’m not mad at you. I’m glad you called me,” she mumbled, pressing a kiss to the other girl’s clammy forehead.
Brittany hated being sick, but this time she found it actually made her feel a little bit better. And she was really glad that Santana was there to hold her hair, because she probably would have forgotten - and that would have been even more gross. She was so lucky to have a friend that was so good to her, and it made her feel even worse for being so dumb. But her assurances that it hadn’t been Brittany’s fault made her feel better even as the world spun again while they walked toward the car.
Once she was sitting down, everything felt a lot better - and having Santana’s arms around her was exactly what she needed. She was safe, finally, and away from the party. Her lips quirked upward in a tiny smile as she felt lips against her forehead, and she mumbled “thank you for coming,” before she tried to do as she’d been told and simply stop thinking. It wasn’t hard. Everything was hazy and blurry in her mind, and it was easier to stop trying to make sense of it.
Santana caught her grandmother’s eye in the rear view mirror and quirked an eyebrow. The woman was staring back at her, but Santana shook her head. She didn’t want to talk about it or why they’d gone back into the party. It was better if she didn’t know. “Let’s go to your house. She needs some coffee and something to absorb some of...whatever it was she drank.”
The older woman nodded and headed towards Lima Heights.
WHAT: Getting in over your head
WHERE: Party at a Rich Dude’s House
WHEN: October 14, 2011
Brittany was drunk. And not a little bit drunk, like when she’d shared drinks with Santana at a party a month ago, but really drunk. Quinn had invited her out to a party, and Santana hadn’t been able to go along with them. She’d known why at the beginning of the night, but the knowledge had long since abandoned her. She’d been having a good time dancing with everyone, wearing a new dress she’d bought just for the occasion and makeup that Quinn had helped her apply. Everyone seemed to like her, and they kept giving her drinks - which she drank, because she didn’t want to be rude. After the last one, though, she was starting to feel dizzy - and the boy she was dancing with kept touching places he shouldn’t have been touching. Mumbling something about the bathroom, Brittany stumbled away and took refuge behind the barbecue. She looked around for Quinn, but couldn’t see her. So, with a sigh, she took out her phone and texted Santana. It made sense to her while she was typing, but if she’d looked over the message she’d have seen that what came out was nearly gibberish. Fortunately, she was way too drunk to care by then.
San? I wanna og. He keps touiching my privat spots.
Santana hated being grounded. It was so stupid. Hector was stupid too. He’d started the fight with her then got mad when she hadn’t let him say whatever he wanted to her. Pendejo. Her mom had grounded her for the whole weekend. Now she was probably missing an awesome party that everyone would be talking about on Monday and she’d have to say she couldn’t go for some lameass reason. Plus, it was Britts’ first high school party and she was missing out. Not cool.
Her phone buzzed and she frowned, grabbing it. She blinked a few times, hoping to make sense of the jumbled letters. What the hell was Brittany even trying to say?
Are you drunk, B?
Brittany tried to make sense of what the two phones in her hand said. Just when she was about to give up, she shook her head and they turned into one phone. It was like magic! She was a wizard, just like in Harry Potter! She had to tell Santana! She frowned. Santana...something about Santana. The phone! She looked at it again, and this time it made sense. She tried to focus really hard on the keys as she typed, though, because her last message looked really funny.
I don know. People kep givin me drinks its nice o them. But teh boy who was dacnig with me keeps touchin me. i dont like it. An that last drimk made me feel funnee.
Rubbing her eyes, Santana slowly pieced together what Brittany was saying and frowned. Where the fuck was Quinn? How had she let Brittany get that drunk? Growling, Santana pressed down on Brittany’s name waiting for the phone to connect to the call.
When the phone rang in her hand, she nearly dropped it into the grass, but recovered with dexterity that would have surprised anyone if they’d been paying any attention. She saw Santana’s name on the display and grinned, searching for the green button that would let them talk. It only took two more rings for her to find it and put the phone to her ear. “San!” she shouted, before taking her voice down to a bit more appropriate volume. “Hi! I was jus’ talking to somebody about you. No - texting you! That’s what I was doing!”
Santana held the phone away from her ear with a wince. Fuck that was loud and yeah Brittany was super fucking drunk. Great. She was going to kill Quinn. “Hey, I’m on my way to come get you, okay? Don’t go back into the party and...and don’t go with anyone else either. Just wait til I get there and then we’ll go to my abuelita’s house and get you some food and Cuban coffee.” The latter of the two was super gross, but no way could they take Brittany home how she was.
Santana was coming? Okay, that made this party way better, even if she was confused. She’d thought Santana couldn’t come, wasn’t that why she wasn’t here? Shaking her head, she remembered to answer the question. “Don’t go in, and don’t leave. Got it,” she repeated. She was about to ask why they were going to Cuba for coffee when the boy who’d been dancing with her walked up behind her and teasingly snatched her phone out of her hand. “Hey!” she shouted. “I was talkin’, gimme that!” She moved toward him, only to trip over an empty keg and fall face-first onto the grass. “Ow!” she shouted, “stop it! Gimme that!”
Hearing the scuffle, Santana called out Brittany’s name a few times and then heard the call disconnect. She called back three times but it kept going to voicemail. Freaking out, she called her grandmother and begged her to meet her outside of her house. She wasn’t even going to bother to tell her mother she was leaving. Fuck it. She’d still be just as grounded tomorrow and Brittany was more important than getting in trouble.
The panic must’ve been evident in her voice because her grandmother was there in like no time. She ran out of the house, slamming the door behind her and jumped in the car. “Go,” she said in a low voice. Her phone rang and she looked down quickly, hoping it was Brittany, but saw it was her mother and ignored it.
“Are you going to tell me what this is all about, Santana?” Her abuelita asked after a few moments.
“Yeah, Brittany’s wasted at some party and some idiot has his hands all over her,” she spat out, brow furrowing in anger. She typed out a nasty little text message to Quinn, letting her know just how shitty of a friend she was.
The older woman was silent again, pulling onto the main street. “And why she not call her own parents? You’re a child-”
“I’m her friend, abuelita,” Santana countered, fixing the woman with a look. One she’d learned just from her.
“You’re still a child, mi’jita.” The words lingered in the air between them, but Santana chose to ignore them. She crossed her arms and sank down into her seat with a frown. They traveled ten more minutes or so before her grandmother spoke again. “What I’m supposed to tell your mother when she calls asking for you?”
“No me importa,” Santana mumbled, watching the scenery go by.
Her abuelita made a clicking noise. “Don’t sass, Santana, she is still your mother.”
Santana rolled her eyes. “Yeah? Well, she’s still your daughter. So, tell her what you want. I’ll still be in trouble tomorrow. Brittany needs me. She doesn’t.”
She heard her grandmother sigh again, but the silence settled between them again. As they got closer, Santana directed the woman towards the house, sighing in relief when she saw Brittany outside.
Brittany was shaking a little, but trying not to show just how scared she was. The boy - she still didn’t know his name - had dangled her phone like it was a prize, enticing her to come closer. She’d gotten up off the ground and followed him for a few steps, but stopped before she reached him. She was completely drunk, but she had a feeling in the pit of her stomach that she was in trouble - and that it could get a lot worse. When he’d offered the phone back to her on the condition that he could “play with her tits for a while,” she’d whimpered softly and backed away.
The boy, who wore a Letterman jacket and was really big, got mad then. He’d called her all kinds of names that she didn’t understand, and finally reared back and thrown her phone into the road before telling her to stay out of the party or he’d hurt her. She was pretty sure it didn’t work anymore, because the screen was broken and she couldn’t send a text to Santana. Which was why she was sitting on the curb trying to figure out what to do next when the car pulled up and she saw Santana inside. Sobbing with relief, she stumbled toward her and nearly tripped. The world was still spinning wildly - for some reason that last drink had hit her like a truck - and she just wanted to sit down somewhere safe for a while. She wanted to be away from the party, away from the boy that had made her feel so threatened and the drinks that were making her head spin.
Santana managed to catch Brittany, only stumbling a little. The blonde was sobbing and speaking incoherently. She managed to pull a few words out and get the gist of what happened. Brittany held up her broken phone and the Latina felt her fury bubble up inside of her. She kissed Brittany’s temple and murmured a few words to try to get her to calm down. Fuck, she was going to make that fucker pay. “Can you show me him at the party?” She asked in a voice way calmer than she felt.
Brittany sniffled. “I can try,” she mumbled. “But there’s, like, three of ev’rything. An’ he told me not to come back.” But it was Santana who was asking. Santana would keep her safe, right? She always did. So she nodded, the motion making her dizzy, and turned back toward the party. “Okay - I need you to hold me, though. The street’s all tilty.”
Nodding, Santana wrapped her arms around her friend and held her close. Her grandmother called behind her, but Santana ignored the woman, leading Brittany back to the party. The music was so loud the bass boomed against the walls, making the door shake. Santana looked around, trying to help Brittany. There was a group of jocks standing around the keg and still no Quinn in sight.
“Is he over there?” Santana asked, nodding towards the group.
Brittany squinted, trying to get her eyes to focus. At first the group of boys looked huge, but as they finally came into focus she could see there was only a few of them. The one filling his glass from the keg...no, that wasn’t him. The one off to the side...nope. The one on the other side....that was him. It was his hair that gave him away, the tips a startling blond. “Yeah,” she whispered. “He’s on the, uhm,” she held up her right hand. “On the left. With the colored hair.”
Santana’s eyes narrowed. Tyler James. He was junior and Santana had only hung around him a few times, but that guy was a fucking ass. And of course he was laughing his ass off with Grayson Rutledge. Santana’s fists clenched at her side. “Hey TYLER!” Santana shouted over the music.
The party sort of grew quiet as he turned around. His gaze flickered to Brittany then back to her and he smirked. “If she’d have told me she wanted to bring a friend along, then I wouldn’t have smashed the bitch’s phone.”
The crowd turned back to her and she stepped away from Brittany, handing her off to one of the nicer guys on the team, she thought maybe it was Mike or Matt or someone. She moved across the room and smiled sweetly up at him. “It’s cute that you think you’d ever stand a chance with either of us. There’s not enough alcohol in the world that would make the ugly mug smoochable.”
Someone from behind her yelled “burn!” and she smirked. Tyler’s eyes narrowed and he took a step towards her. “Oh please, Lopez, everybody knows that you’ll spread your legs like Nutella. Your friend, though, she looks brand new. I’d love to break her in.”
Shaking her head, Santana’s eyes grew cold. Say whatever they wanted about her. She didn’t care, but if this asshole thought she was going to let him anywhere near Brittany, he was sadly mistaken. She reached out and grabbed his crotch. He made a loud grunt and she twisted her hand, digging her nails painfully into his sack. “Listen to me, No Neck, if you ever” She punctuated the word by twisting her fingers even more. “...even think about coming near her again, I will chop off your balls and feed them to you Lima Heights style. Got it?” She could feel him shaking against her hand and grinned cruelly.
He yelp, sweat rolling down his forehead. He nodded and looked down at her. Santana tightened her grip. “Now, apologize to her and you’ll be buying her a brand new phone.” Tyler mumbled his first apology then said it louder when Santana wouldn’t relent. She released him and shoved him away, lifting her knee swiftly against his package to finish the job. “Now who’s the bitch?” She asked before turning on her heels. She stopped to grab Brittany from Matt and led her towards the door.
Everything seemed to be happening behind a fuzzy pane of glass, but Brittany was able to follow at least most of the action. On the one hand, she was afraid when Santana grabbed the boy, because she was still afraid of him and because he had so many friends who she was afraid might hurt her too, but in the end they all just stood there and watched. None of them did anything, and she got him to apologize, and to make him buy her a new phone? The second part almost meant more, because she was terrified of what her mom was going to say when she got home and her phone was broken.
“Thanks,” she muttered to Matt for holding her up, letting Santana wrap a careful arm around her before she started moving. “San,” she mumbled, “I’m sorry. I know you always have to save me. I didn’t mean to be so dumb tonight,” she knew she was slurring - it was bad enough that she could hear it herself - but she hoped she was at least understandable. “I thought I’d be okay. I thought I was grown up, and I could go to parties. But mostly I just feel sick now, and I was so scared.” Her voice shook. “You were right about me. I’m just a kid. I’m not grown up like you and Quinn. I shouldn’t...” she stopped, clutching her stomach and bending over a little. “I shouldn’t pretend. I won’t go to another one - you won’t have to save me again.” She could feel the tears on her face - she was so embarrassed by the night’s events.
She shouldn’t have tried so hard, maybe, but all she wanted was to do things that Santana did, so that they could spend more time together. But she was dumb, and she kept having to be rescued all the time. She knew it couldn’t have been fun for her friend to have to look after her that way. She should be able to look after herself. She should have known better than to drink everything she was given, and she definitely should have known better than to let herself get touched by a boy like that. She should have stayed with Quinn, been more careful.
“San,” she added weakly, “stop, stop for a sec, I don’t feel very good.”
They were outside and by bushes. So, Santana steered the blonde that way. She pulled her hair back and rubbed the middle of her shoulders as she emptied the contents of her stomach. Normally, Santana thought puking was gross, but she was mostly just focused on helping Brittany feel better.
When she was done, Santana helped her straighten and helped her back to the car. “Don’t apologize. You’re still in middle school. No one should’ve left you alone like that. Quinn knows better. Ooo I’m gonna smack the shit out of her when I see her on Monday.”
“Santana, language,” her abuelita scolded as she helped Brittany into the backseat.
She climbed in next and wrapped her arms around Brittany tightly. “Just close your eyes and try not to think anymore, okay? I’m not mad at you. I’m glad you called me,” she mumbled, pressing a kiss to the other girl’s clammy forehead.
Brittany hated being sick, but this time she found it actually made her feel a little bit better. And she was really glad that Santana was there to hold her hair, because she probably would have forgotten - and that would have been even more gross. She was so lucky to have a friend that was so good to her, and it made her feel even worse for being so dumb. But her assurances that it hadn’t been Brittany’s fault made her feel better even as the world spun again while they walked toward the car.
Once she was sitting down, everything felt a lot better - and having Santana’s arms around her was exactly what she needed. She was safe, finally, and away from the party. Her lips quirked upward in a tiny smile as she felt lips against her forehead, and she mumbled “thank you for coming,” before she tried to do as she’d been told and simply stop thinking. It wasn’t hard. Everything was hazy and blurry in her mind, and it was easier to stop trying to make sense of it.
Santana caught her grandmother’s eye in the rear view mirror and quirked an eyebrow. The woman was staring back at her, but Santana shook her head. She didn’t want to talk about it or why they’d gone back into the party. It was better if she didn’t know. “Let’s go to your house. She needs some coffee and something to absorb some of...whatever it was she drank.”
The older woman nodded and headed towards Lima Heights.