this modern love [1/?]
Title: this modern love
Pairing: Finn/Santana
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 5,247
Summary: It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this?
It starts when the newly married Burt and Carole go out of town for a little honeymoon before the holidays and Kurt and Finn throw a Christmas party at their house while everyone is home on break from school.
They’re friends now, she and Finn; mostly because their best friends are a couple and all four of them go to Ohio State and live close to one another. They’ve had a couple of shared classes over the last few years and they party together more often than not due to the large number of friends they have in common. He’s by no means her best friend (that’s Rachel, and even Puck sometimes when he’s not being the world’s biggest asshole), but he held her hair back that one time while she puked in the bushes after they dominated everyone in a co-ed case race; and she stayed up with him one night after he fell during a keg stand and whacked his head so hard that everyone thought he for sure had a concussion. She spent the majority of that night calling him a fucking dumbass and making fun of the Snoopy band-aid someone had put over the cut on his forehead.
So yes, they’re friends, and aside from that night five years ago where she took his virginity in that gross motel room out by the airport because she was on a mission to prove something stupid and he let her, there’s never remotely been anything between them. They don’t flirt with each other at school and they don’t make out when they’re drunk. They are just Finn and Santana and that suits her fine.
She’s in the kitchen refilling her cup of “Christmas Cheer” as Kurt called it, and rolling her eyes at the crap coming out of Puck’s mouth.
“Seriously, all you Christians with your stupid trees and pervy fat white dudes wearing red velour and cheap beards, I don’t get it. S’not like Christ is gonna rise up again,” he announces proudly, like he’s so wise and everyone else is so dumb. She decides then that if this is the effect Kurt’s punch has on people, she’ll switch to beer.
“That’s Easter, you fucking retard. Christmas is about the birth of Christ,” Santana snaps acerbically and gestures to Rachel with her glass. “You’re smart, Rachel, why? Why this guy?”
Rachel giggles and leans back against his chest, tipping her head back to kiss the underside of his jaw. “I like ‘em dumb I suppose,” she teases, making Santana cackle and Puck glare. “Kidding,” Rachel squeals when he buries his face in her neck and starts growling.
They’re both drunk already and completely handsy and while Santana actually finds them cute as hell and hilarious together, she doesn’t need to see this again. “Hey, Moses, go find an empty room for you and your girl. I see enough of this shit at school.”
She pulls a beer from the cooler and goes to the living room where a few people are dancing. Matt’s one of them and she watches the way he moves for a few minutes and remembers the way his body used to move against hers those few times when they were in high school. Part of her thinks it would be fun to fuck for old times’ sake and to also scratch this itch she has, but that’s dashed pretty quickly when he pulls some girl she’s never seen against him and drops his lips to hers.
Brittany catches her eye across the room and they share a smile and an awkward wave. They haven’t really spoken much since they left for college and both decided they like dick better than pussy. She doesn’t regret their relationship in high school at all, but she definitely chalks that up to an adolescent, experimental phase.
Glancing around the room, she laughs when she sees Finn hanging out under the mistletoe wearing reindeer antlers and handing out kisses like candy. Everyone that passes, he stops and gives them a kiss on the cheek or a chaste kiss on the lips. He’s clearly enjoyed a little too much of Kurt’s punch and it’s fucking hilarious.
She strolls over sipping her beer and Finn spots her, his face lighting up and giving her a dimpled smile. “Heyyyyy, Chimi!” he greets and she rolls her eyes and laughs at the nickname he inadvertently gave her once when he was drunk and introduced her to his friends as Chimichanga Lopez.
“Easy there, Forrest, you’re scaring the guests,” she replies tartly before smirking at him. She leans back against the wall and takes another drink from the bottle in her hand.
Finn laughs and shrugs in that unassuming way that he has. “How’s your break?”
Santana shrugs in return and arcs a brow. “It’s fucking winter in Lima, genius, what do you think?”
“C’mon, San,” he says, poking her in the stomach, “it’s Christmas.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she answers drily. “It’s fine, though Señor and Señora Lopez are driving me completely bat shit already. And we’re leaving the day after Christmas to go skiing for a few days of family bonding before I head back to Columbus for New Year’s. Should be a real blasty blast,” she finishes, rolling her eyes.
“Want some of my punch? That’ll make you happy.”
One brow arches sky high and she scoffs. “If I drink that, I’ll start acting like you. Pass. I don’t do reindeer antlers.” She smiles a little though, finding that she can never be a complete bitch to him for very long because it’s like kicking a cute puppy or something. And he’s her friend or whatever.
Finn’s mouth drops open in mock offense. “Whatever, San. I’m awesome and so’re these antlers. They light up and everything.” He takes them off and tries to put them on her head.
“Fuck you,” she sneers, laughing a little as she skirts out of reach. “Try that again and I’ll sack you.”
He laughs and puts his antlers back on. “You would, too.”
“Damn right.” She lifts the bottle to her lips again, frowning when she finds it empty. “I’m going for another beer. Need your holiday cheer topped off?” He shakes his head and she turns to walk away, but his arm comes out and blocks her path. “What?”
“Gotta pay the toll,” he says, dimples winking as he jerks his thumb up towards the mistletoe overhead.
Santana rolls her eyes and smirks again. “Yeah, alright. Lay it on me, Hudson.” She laughs a little at the goofy (drunk) look on his face. He bends down and drops a loud, smacking kiss against her lips. The kiss is a joke, really, and over too quickly for it to matter at all, except for this little part of her that didn’t hate the way his lips felt against hers. “Don’t be a pussy, Finn. Kiss me right or not at all,” she barks without thinking.
Finn’s eyebrows shoot up quickly and hers do the same, challenging him. A smile sneaks slowly and crookedly across his face as he hooks an arm around her waist, pulling her against his large frame. His hand is sure against the small of her back and his fingers are warm against her skin where they’ve slipped beneath her sweater. He gently licks his bottom lip as his head droops to meet her mouth, pressing his lips fully to hers. His lips are soft, but the pressure is firm and before she can even let the thought Finn’s a decent kisser register in her brain, he’s licking at the seam of her lips and slipping into her mouth.
He curls his tongue around hers and she very nearly fists her hand in his shirt to pull him closer, but she remembers where they are and how many people are around and also that she’s kissing Finn Hudson. Finn must do the same, because he slips out of her mouth and presses his lips softly against hers again before pulling away from her completely. He smiles lazily and brushes his hand down her waist. “Merry Christmas, Chimi,” he says softly and then walks away without another word.
Santana watches him go before heading off to find Rachel, because seriously, what is going on in the world right now?
… … …
She tries the laundry room first and barges in, completely unfazed by the fact that Rachel and Puck are fucking on the washing machine.
“Santana,” Rachel screeches, clinging to Puck in an effort to cover her naked chest.
“Dammit, woman,” Puck grinds out, “you’re killing my flow here. Get the fuck naked and join or get the fuck out.”
Santana flips him off and closes the door behind her so no one else can see what these two horny bastards are doing. “You should learn to lock the damn door, yeah? Just listen the fuck up for a second, seriously, and Puck can get back to doing a mediocre job at getting you off, Rach.”
“You’re such a cunt, San,” Puck says, earning a smack upside the head from Rachel and an amused glare from Santana.
“Finn Hudson just kissed the life out of me under the mistletoe and made my lady parts tingle. What the fuck is real life, you guys?”
Rachel’s eyes round excitedly and she practically squeals. “Oh my God, really? Do you have feelings for him?”
Santana and Puck give her twin what the actual fuck looks. “It’s Finn,” she sourly supplies.
“So?” Rachel asks innocently, making Puck groan.
“Jesus fuck, Rachel, can you finish this conversation later when my dick’s not inside you? Beat it, Satan.”
“Call me tomorrow!” Rachel tells her, wrapping her arms around Puck’s waist again.
Puck motions for her to get gone before turning back to Rachel and flicking his thumbs over her nipples and fusing his lips to her neck. Jesus Christ, she does not need to see this (again). Especially not when her panties are wet from kissing Finn fucking Hudson and she’s going home alone.
She exits the room, pulling the door closed behind her and bumps smack into the guy whose kiss she can’t wrap her brain around. His hands grab around her waist to steady her and something warm and liquid pulls at her insides. It’s totally fucked. She thinks it’s just the drought-self-imposed-she’s been in this semester. Her classes were ridiculous, so she spent more time studying and less partying and that left her with fewer bed partners than she was accustomed to. “Don’t go in there. Puck and Rachel are fucking on your washing machine.”
Finn pulls a face and rolls his eyes. “Of course they are.” He pounds his fist furiously on the door. “You guys suck so hard,” he yells.
Santana snorts when Puck’s muffled I could finish a lot faster if you people would leave us the fuck alone comes through the door.
“He’s such an asshole,” Santana states matter-of-factly.
“True story,” Finn agrees, fixing her with a lazy grin and blinking his eyes slowly.
She smirks and folds her arms across her chest. “If it wasn’t my best friend he’s banging right now, I’d stand here and yell things through the door just to fuck with him.”
Finn laughs. “Couldn’t we do it anyway and then you can, like, pay for Rachel to get her nails done or something?”
“If you think getting your nails done is the equivalent of an orgasm, Forrest, you’re doing it wrong.” She thinks perhaps the kiss was just a fluke and if she can hold on to that, then there won’t be any weird lines crossed.
His cheeks flush a little but he laughs and slugs her playfully on the shoulder. “Shut up, that’s not what I meant. And I know that a manicure pales in comparison, Santana.”
She hates that he looks and sounds hot when he says her name, especially considering he’s still wearing light up antlers on his head. Finn Hudson is not supposed to be hot or make her vagina sing. This is completely foreign territory. “If you say so,” she tells him skeptically, punching him less than gently in the stomach. “I’m taking off.” If she doesn’t leave now, she’ll end up doing something she really wants with someone she really shouldn’t.
“You okay to drive?” he asks, concern shining in his brown eyes.
“Yes, Mom,” she sighs, her eyes rolling again.
“Don’t be a brat,” he warns, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into a hug. “Have a good Christmas, okay?”
She hugs him back, noticing for the first time how good he smells. “Yeah, you too. Maybe your mom and new daddy will bring you back something fun from Jamaica. Like rum or weed or a stupid Rastafarian hat or something.”
Finn pulls back and laughs down at her. “Bye, Chimi.” He ruffles her hair, messing it up completely. “See you for New Year’s?”
“Watch the hair, dickhead,” she snaps, knocking his hand away and pushing hair out of her eyes. “And yeah, I’ll be there unless I end up in jail for going all Menendez on my family or something during this trip.”
“Well, don’t do that. A party wouldn’t be the same without you,” Finn smiles. “Careful driving home.” He tugs at a strand of her hair and lumbers down the hallway to rejoin the party.
That strange feeling returns in the pit of her stomach and all she wants to do is get the fuck out of dodge because it’s weirding her the hell out.
… … …
She barely thinks about that kiss with Finn over the next week.
There are too many expensive Christmas presents open, numerous hills to ski down as fast as she can, and several pretty hot guys to flirt with while she drinks whiskey in the resort bar after a long day on the slopes.
He sneaks into her thoughts one night long after her parents have gone to bed and she’s relaxing in the hot tub with a beer in her hand as snow falls around her. Rachel can be blamed for him showing up in her head at all, she’s certain.
They talked earlier and Rachel mentioned that she and Puck were going sledding with Finn and a few other people at midnight once the best hill in town wasn’t crawling with kids anymore. To her best friend’s credit, she wasn’t mentioning him to try and get a pulse on “the situation.” No, she’d done that the day after the Christmas party and Santana shut that shit down real quick and chalked it up to a momentary lapse in judgment.
But there Finn is in her head, all tall and funny and cute. And she keeps replaying that kiss over and over until the heat in her body has nothing to do with the temperature of the water she’s submerged in. She’s so tense now she wants to scream and she wishes like hell she had someone there with her to make her do it. Instead, she takes matters into her own hands (ha) and slips one into her bikini bottoms, trying to picture that hot hookup she had last semester with Jason Stamm. The positions they did come easily, but his face keeps morphing into Finn’s as she desperately chases the release she needs. Her name spilling from Finn’s lips is the last thing she imagines before she breaks and the pleasure rushes through her body.
She sighs and downs the rest of her beer, watching the snow fall for a few more minutes. Fantasizing about fucking Finn Hudson while she fingers herself in a hot tub is so not acceptable. So she’s going to make it her number one mission when she gets back to Columbus to find someone to rail her good so she can forget all about the strange feelings that were stirred up over one stupid (amazing) kiss with a goofy (adorable) guy wearing light up reindeer antlers under the mistletoe.
… … …
Santana scowls when Rachel comes in her room, wakes her up and asks if she wants to go with her to help the boys get their apartment set up for the New Year’s Eve party they’re throwing later. “I’m not the help, Rachel,” Santana barks at her, still half asleep. “The boys know how to throw a goddamn party. Besides, my presence at their party is help enough.” She pulls the covers over her eyes, groaning when Rachel sits down on the side of the bed and peels them back again. “Rachel,” she growls, “I love you, but get the fuck out. ‘M tired.”
“Are you nervous about seeing Finn?” she inquires.
She opens one eye and glares balefully up at Rachel. “Because you’re my best friend and I’m tired, I’ll pretend you didn’t just ask me that. I don’t do nervous. Not around guys and especially not around Finn Hudson.”
“If you say so,” Rachel replies in that sing-song tone that says she clearly doesn’t believe her. “You seemed to really enjoy that kiss at the Christmas party. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Yeah, well, I enjoyed fucking Puck in high school, but you don’t see me doing that anymore now do you?” she asks snottily.
Rachel’s eyes narrow and her lips press together into a tight, thin line. “Don’t be such a bitch, Santana.”
“I have every right to be a bitch when you wake me up asking asinine questions. You don’t like it, there’s the damn door.” She pulls the covers back over her eyes and rolls away, effectively ending their conversation.
When she hears the front door of their apartment slam shut, she knows she’s hurt Rachel’s feelings. It was admittedly dirty to bring up her past with Puck, but shit, man…she’s tired and Rachel kept picking at the Finn thing after being warned to drop it. She knows she only got super snappy because her best friend was maybekindasorta onto something. And that something wasn’t anything she wanted to think about.
She sighs and decides to worry about everything later.
… … …
She doesn’t see Rachel again until she shows up fashionably late to the guys’ place where the party is already in full swing. Rachel’s standing in the living room laughing with one of their other friends, and when she looks up briefly and catches her eye, her smile fades and she turns her back.
See, she hates apologizing to people and there are less than a handful of people she’d ever actually do it for and legit mean it. Rachel’s one of them. She’ll get to it in a minute, she decides, after she’s had a drink.
Finn comes bounding down the stairs and he stops when he sees her, giving her a dimpled smile. “Hey, Chimi,” he greets. “You made it.”
Santana ignores the little flip in her belly because it’s totally ridiculous for her to still be thinking about the way his lips felt over hers. She just really needs to get laid and she’s going to find another guy at this party to help her out with that. It won’t be the tall and adorable guy standing in front of her. “Told you I’d be here,” she replies, her eyebrow ticking up. “No festive hat tonight?”
“Oh, I’ve got one for later. Don’t you worry,” he grins.
She rolls her eyes, but laughs at him. He’s really cute and she hates that she thinks so. “D’you mind if I put my coat in your room? It’s new and I’ll fucking cut a bitch if someone pukes on it.”
He laughs and nods his head. “Follow me.”
Once they’re in his room, she tosses her purse down on the chair behind his computer desk and slowly unbuttons her coat. He’s sitting on his bed, sipping at his beer and asking her about the ski trip. “It was alright,” she answers, cocking her head to the side and holding his gaze as she slips the coat off her shoulders.
Santana knows full well how she looks. She’s hot and the dress she bought especially for tonight is, too. It’s black, with long cutout sleeves that are accented at the wrists with silver cuffs. The top half is fairly modest and blouses out a little, but the skirt is short and tight around her hips, stopping high on her thighs. Seeing his eyes cloud a little as he tries (and fails) to rake them inconspicuously over her body sends a tiny thrill up the back of her spine and validates her choice even more. “That’s some dress,” he compliments, taking another pull from the cup in his hand.
A wicked smile stretches across her face. “Thanks,” she says, turning around to drape her coat over the back of the chair. He coughs, seemingly choking on his drink, and she takes that as his approval for the almost completely open back of her dress. “You okay, champ?” she asks, turning back around.
Finn nods and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He pushes to his feet and offers her a crooked grin. “If there’s a riot downstairs, it’ll be your fault,” he says, his eyes wide and quickly combing over her body again.
“Outstanding,” she smirks winningly. “That is exactly what I was going for.” Skirting around him, she pats his chest and looks up at him through her lashes. “See you later, Hudson.” She grins impishly at him over her shoulder and heads downstairs.
… ... …
She draws a lot of appreciative stares and a few low whistles when she walks through the party, fueling the fire of her already outrageously high self-esteem. The drinks are in sight and almost within her reach when Puck intercepts her and yanks her into the little laundry room off the kitchen. “Jesus, what?” Santana grouses, though she’s pretty sure she already knows the answer.
“Thanks a fucking lot for being such a twat bag to Rachel today,” he says, totally unimpressed as he leans back against the dryer. “You fucking know not to push the button you pushed this morning. The hell is wrong with you?”
“God, you’re really fighting her battles for her?” Santana asks disgustedly. “She’s better than that.”
“Listen, bitch, Rachel can take care of herself, but when you start stirring up shit and she gets mad at me for something that happened between you and me eons ago, you make it my business. I spent nearly an hour trying to talk her down.”
“Well, that’s your problem, but bonus points for the correct use of eons. You should’ve just gone down and left the talking out of it,” she bites back.
Puck rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Rachel’s your best fucking friend-stop being such a gash,” he growls.
Santana glares at him for a moment, but she knows he’s right. “You Jews and your guilt trips, I fucking swear,” she sighs. “I’m going to apologize to her.”
“’S all I ask.” She turns to leave and she hears him laugh, “Nice dress, whore.”
Santana laughs and sneers back at him. This is just how they work. They’re basically the same person and it’s kind of awesome sometimes. “I know it is, asshole.”
… … …
Rachel is pretty damn adept at avoiding when she wants to be and she’s fucking icy with it, Santana decides. She fills up her plastic cup from the keg and waits until she sees Rachel coming out of the bathroom before she pounces. “Hey,” she says, blocking Rachel’s path.
“Hello,” Rachel clips coolly, her full lips pursed in annoyance.
“Look, I’m sorry for being such a cunt to you this morning. You know I can’t handle any bullshit before my coffee.”
“That’s quite the backhanded apology, Santana,” Rachel tells her.
This is exactly why she hates apologizing to people, she’s not very skilled at it and people never let her off the hook that easily. Jesus. “Fuck, B, I said I was sorry and I am. I shouldn’t have said what I did, but let’s get over it already.” Rachel just looks at her shrewdly with those big brown eyes. Santana rolls her own eyes and groans a little, because she knows she’s going to have to admit what her friend already knows. “Okay, fine,” she says through clenched teeth, pulling her away from the crowd. “So you maybe hit a nerve this morning by pressing me about Finn,” she reluctantly admits.
“I’m sorry, I have no idea to what you are referring, Santana. What about Finn struck a nerve?” Rachel asks in a sugary voice. It was times like these that Santana kind of hated how well she’d rubbed off on her friend.
“You’re a bitch when you get like this, you know that?”
“Mmhmm,” Rachel nods. “I learned from the best. Now spill.”
“Goddamn, okay,” Santana says dramatically. “Not only did I enjoy Finn kissing me at the Christmas party, but I have been thinking about it occasionally since. And honestly, if I don’t find someone soon to take home and fuck, I might just kiss him again and see if it was a fluke.” She doesn’t at all care for the I-told-you-so look in Rachel’s eyes or the shit-eating grin on her face. “I mean, that’s probably all it was-just a fluke. No way Finn Hudson is actually, like, skilled at kissing and sex, right? Fuck, don’t answer that.”
Rachel’s hearty laugh bounces off the walls and Santana frowns. “I’m not saying anything other than you look so hot in that dress it’s ridiculous.”
“Truth,” she agrees, and they both laugh. “Thanks, B. We good?”
“We’re good,” Rachel smiles, wrapping her arms around her and squeezing tight.
“God, makeout already,” Puck drawls as he sidles up next to Rachel, slipping his arm around her waist. “And let me watch.”
“You can do better,” Santana tells Rachel, baring her teeth to Puck before she walks away.
… … …
It’s closing in on midnight and aside from dancing with a few guys she knows, she’s made very little progress on her goal for the evening. Nearly everyone at the party is pairing off for the big New Year’s Eve kiss and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t have someone to kiss, too. The dress alone should’ve raked in a ton of dick, but add her body in the dress, and well, she’s a little perplexed as to why she’s not naked and pinned beneath someone already.
And okay, it’s not like she hasn’t had any offers to speak of, but she found they were all too short or not dimpled enough to actually go through with it. She knows what that means and she’s so fucked it’s not even funny.
Someone taps her on the shoulder and she turns and sees Finn, who’s now wearing a purple cardboard top hat that reads Happy New Year in silver writing. Her eyebrow cocks up as she looks back at him and she finds it nearly impossible not to smile at his affinity for festive headwear. “Nice hat,” she tells him.
“I got you one,” he grins, producing a black and silver hat. “It matches.”
Well. Fuck. That’s really sweet of him and while she normally can’t stand sweet, it works so well on him that she can’t find it in herself to mind. “Thanks,” she says, smiling crookedly up at him.
His lips quirk up and he nods. “You’re welcome, San,” he responds. Finn holds the hat out and pulls it back at the last second. “Wait, are you gonna punch me in the stones if I see how this looks on you?”
She barks out a laugh at his wit and shakes her head. “Nah, this is a big improvement over reindeer antlers,” she tells him.
Finn puts the hat on her head and smoothes her hair back behind one ear. “You didn’t seem to mind the antlers when I was kissing you under the mistletoe,” he tells her in this quietly confident tone.
Him bringing up the kiss? Surprising.
“Whatever. It’s not like you gave me much choice in the matter.” She feels herself smiling again and this is so not like her.
His lips twitch into a smirk. “Sure. Uh huh. That’s the reason,” he says laughingly, winking at her.
Who is this Finn Hudson? Christ almighty. She doesn’t even know, but she likes it. “Look, just kiss me again or shut up about it already. Jesus.”
He shakes his head and something inside her sinks a bit. “You kiss me.”
Santana really can’t take it anymore, and Finn telling her to kiss him is pretty hot, so she balls her hands against the material of his button down and rises up on her toes until her lips are on his. All her fluke theories about Finn’s kissing go right out the damn window because he’s licking into her mouth and slipping his hands in her hair, knocking the hat off her head as he presses himself against her and kisses her like his life depends on it. She hopes it does, because the way her toes are curling in her shoes as the heat starts flickering low in her gut, she never wants him to stop.
Some idiot starts catcalling behind them and he pulls his lips off hers. She’s a little (lot) breathless and his eyes are all big and warm while he smiles at her, his hands sliding over her shoulders and down to rest at her waist. She needs more, wants more. Her hand wraps around the back of his neck and she pulls his head down until her lips are on his ear. “I really want to fuck you,” she breathes out. His hands tighten around her waist and the sound he makes in the back of his throat only makes him that much more attractive to her.
“Santana,” he says, half warningly.
She leans back, fixes him with a sultry look. “C’mon,” she purrs, slipping her fingers between the buttons of his shirt. “Let’s ring in the new year in style.” He looks surprised. She guesses she can’t really blame the guy; she is intense when she wants something. But Jesus Christ, she’s just offered herself up on a platter and if he doesn’t take her up on it, she’s going to be a little embarrassed and fully pissed.
He stays silent, gaping at her, and she can see the wheels turning in his head as he mulls it over. She’s already come this far, and she figures she might as well give him the last little push he seems to need. “Give in, Hudson. I want you,” she says flirtatiously, sliding her hand down his torso and hooking her fingers around his belt. “You want me, too.” She watches his Adam’s apple bob up and down in his throat and she feels his hands slide a little lower until they’re around her hips. “Your room?” she asks, making this as easy as possible on him. Finn blinks a few times in rapid succession and finally nods his head, grinning a little.
Santana smirks victoriously and heads for the stairs, tossing a smoldering look back at him over her shoulder. He’s close behind her and she knows that everyone at the party knows they’re going upstairs to fuck. And she cares less than not at all. Once she gets his hands on her body and she’s getting off, she won’t care about much of anything.
Pairing: Finn/Santana
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 5,247
Summary: It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this?
It starts when the newly married Burt and Carole go out of town for a little honeymoon before the holidays and Kurt and Finn throw a Christmas party at their house while everyone is home on break from school.
They’re friends now, she and Finn; mostly because their best friends are a couple and all four of them go to Ohio State and live close to one another. They’ve had a couple of shared classes over the last few years and they party together more often than not due to the large number of friends they have in common. He’s by no means her best friend (that’s Rachel, and even Puck sometimes when he’s not being the world’s biggest asshole), but he held her hair back that one time while she puked in the bushes after they dominated everyone in a co-ed case race; and she stayed up with him one night after he fell during a keg stand and whacked his head so hard that everyone thought he for sure had a concussion. She spent the majority of that night calling him a fucking dumbass and making fun of the Snoopy band-aid someone had put over the cut on his forehead.
So yes, they’re friends, and aside from that night five years ago where she took his virginity in that gross motel room out by the airport because she was on a mission to prove something stupid and he let her, there’s never remotely been anything between them. They don’t flirt with each other at school and they don’t make out when they’re drunk. They are just Finn and Santana and that suits her fine.
She’s in the kitchen refilling her cup of “Christmas Cheer” as Kurt called it, and rolling her eyes at the crap coming out of Puck’s mouth.
“Seriously, all you Christians with your stupid trees and pervy fat white dudes wearing red velour and cheap beards, I don’t get it. S’not like Christ is gonna rise up again,” he announces proudly, like he’s so wise and everyone else is so dumb. She decides then that if this is the effect Kurt’s punch has on people, she’ll switch to beer.
“That’s Easter, you fucking retard. Christmas is about the birth of Christ,” Santana snaps acerbically and gestures to Rachel with her glass. “You’re smart, Rachel, why? Why this guy?”
Rachel giggles and leans back against his chest, tipping her head back to kiss the underside of his jaw. “I like ‘em dumb I suppose,” she teases, making Santana cackle and Puck glare. “Kidding,” Rachel squeals when he buries his face in her neck and starts growling.
They’re both drunk already and completely handsy and while Santana actually finds them cute as hell and hilarious together, she doesn’t need to see this again. “Hey, Moses, go find an empty room for you and your girl. I see enough of this shit at school.”
She pulls a beer from the cooler and goes to the living room where a few people are dancing. Matt’s one of them and she watches the way he moves for a few minutes and remembers the way his body used to move against hers those few times when they were in high school. Part of her thinks it would be fun to fuck for old times’ sake and to also scratch this itch she has, but that’s dashed pretty quickly when he pulls some girl she’s never seen against him and drops his lips to hers.
Brittany catches her eye across the room and they share a smile and an awkward wave. They haven’t really spoken much since they left for college and both decided they like dick better than pussy. She doesn’t regret their relationship in high school at all, but she definitely chalks that up to an adolescent, experimental phase.
Glancing around the room, she laughs when she sees Finn hanging out under the mistletoe wearing reindeer antlers and handing out kisses like candy. Everyone that passes, he stops and gives them a kiss on the cheek or a chaste kiss on the lips. He’s clearly enjoyed a little too much of Kurt’s punch and it’s fucking hilarious.
She strolls over sipping her beer and Finn spots her, his face lighting up and giving her a dimpled smile. “Heyyyyy, Chimi!” he greets and she rolls her eyes and laughs at the nickname he inadvertently gave her once when he was drunk and introduced her to his friends as Chimichanga Lopez.
“Easy there, Forrest, you’re scaring the guests,” she replies tartly before smirking at him. She leans back against the wall and takes another drink from the bottle in her hand.
Finn laughs and shrugs in that unassuming way that he has. “How’s your break?”
Santana shrugs in return and arcs a brow. “It’s fucking winter in Lima, genius, what do you think?”
“C’mon, San,” he says, poking her in the stomach, “it’s Christmas.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she answers drily. “It’s fine, though Señor and Señora Lopez are driving me completely bat shit already. And we’re leaving the day after Christmas to go skiing for a few days of family bonding before I head back to Columbus for New Year’s. Should be a real blasty blast,” she finishes, rolling her eyes.
“Want some of my punch? That’ll make you happy.”
One brow arches sky high and she scoffs. “If I drink that, I’ll start acting like you. Pass. I don’t do reindeer antlers.” She smiles a little though, finding that she can never be a complete bitch to him for very long because it’s like kicking a cute puppy or something. And he’s her friend or whatever.
Finn’s mouth drops open in mock offense. “Whatever, San. I’m awesome and so’re these antlers. They light up and everything.” He takes them off and tries to put them on her head.
“Fuck you,” she sneers, laughing a little as she skirts out of reach. “Try that again and I’ll sack you.”
He laughs and puts his antlers back on. “You would, too.”
“Damn right.” She lifts the bottle to her lips again, frowning when she finds it empty. “I’m going for another beer. Need your holiday cheer topped off?” He shakes his head and she turns to walk away, but his arm comes out and blocks her path. “What?”
“Gotta pay the toll,” he says, dimples winking as he jerks his thumb up towards the mistletoe overhead.
Santana rolls her eyes and smirks again. “Yeah, alright. Lay it on me, Hudson.” She laughs a little at the goofy (drunk) look on his face. He bends down and drops a loud, smacking kiss against her lips. The kiss is a joke, really, and over too quickly for it to matter at all, except for this little part of her that didn’t hate the way his lips felt against hers. “Don’t be a pussy, Finn. Kiss me right or not at all,” she barks without thinking.
Finn’s eyebrows shoot up quickly and hers do the same, challenging him. A smile sneaks slowly and crookedly across his face as he hooks an arm around her waist, pulling her against his large frame. His hand is sure against the small of her back and his fingers are warm against her skin where they’ve slipped beneath her sweater. He gently licks his bottom lip as his head droops to meet her mouth, pressing his lips fully to hers. His lips are soft, but the pressure is firm and before she can even let the thought Finn’s a decent kisser register in her brain, he’s licking at the seam of her lips and slipping into her mouth.
He curls his tongue around hers and she very nearly fists her hand in his shirt to pull him closer, but she remembers where they are and how many people are around and also that she’s kissing Finn Hudson. Finn must do the same, because he slips out of her mouth and presses his lips softly against hers again before pulling away from her completely. He smiles lazily and brushes his hand down her waist. “Merry Christmas, Chimi,” he says softly and then walks away without another word.
Santana watches him go before heading off to find Rachel, because seriously, what is going on in the world right now?
… … …
She tries the laundry room first and barges in, completely unfazed by the fact that Rachel and Puck are fucking on the washing machine.
“Santana,” Rachel screeches, clinging to Puck in an effort to cover her naked chest.
“Dammit, woman,” Puck grinds out, “you’re killing my flow here. Get the fuck naked and join or get the fuck out.”
Santana flips him off and closes the door behind her so no one else can see what these two horny bastards are doing. “You should learn to lock the damn door, yeah? Just listen the fuck up for a second, seriously, and Puck can get back to doing a mediocre job at getting you off, Rach.”
“You’re such a cunt, San,” Puck says, earning a smack upside the head from Rachel and an amused glare from Santana.
“Finn Hudson just kissed the life out of me under the mistletoe and made my lady parts tingle. What the fuck is real life, you guys?”
Rachel’s eyes round excitedly and she practically squeals. “Oh my God, really? Do you have feelings for him?”
Santana and Puck give her twin what the actual fuck looks. “It’s Finn,” she sourly supplies.
“So?” Rachel asks innocently, making Puck groan.
“Jesus fuck, Rachel, can you finish this conversation later when my dick’s not inside you? Beat it, Satan.”
“Call me tomorrow!” Rachel tells her, wrapping her arms around Puck’s waist again.
Puck motions for her to get gone before turning back to Rachel and flicking his thumbs over her nipples and fusing his lips to her neck. Jesus Christ, she does not need to see this (again). Especially not when her panties are wet from kissing Finn fucking Hudson and she’s going home alone.
She exits the room, pulling the door closed behind her and bumps smack into the guy whose kiss she can’t wrap her brain around. His hands grab around her waist to steady her and something warm and liquid pulls at her insides. It’s totally fucked. She thinks it’s just the drought-self-imposed-she’s been in this semester. Her classes were ridiculous, so she spent more time studying and less partying and that left her with fewer bed partners than she was accustomed to. “Don’t go in there. Puck and Rachel are fucking on your washing machine.”
Finn pulls a face and rolls his eyes. “Of course they are.” He pounds his fist furiously on the door. “You guys suck so hard,” he yells.
Santana snorts when Puck’s muffled I could finish a lot faster if you people would leave us the fuck alone comes through the door.
“He’s such an asshole,” Santana states matter-of-factly.
“True story,” Finn agrees, fixing her with a lazy grin and blinking his eyes slowly.
She smirks and folds her arms across her chest. “If it wasn’t my best friend he’s banging right now, I’d stand here and yell things through the door just to fuck with him.”
Finn laughs. “Couldn’t we do it anyway and then you can, like, pay for Rachel to get her nails done or something?”
“If you think getting your nails done is the equivalent of an orgasm, Forrest, you’re doing it wrong.” She thinks perhaps the kiss was just a fluke and if she can hold on to that, then there won’t be any weird lines crossed.
His cheeks flush a little but he laughs and slugs her playfully on the shoulder. “Shut up, that’s not what I meant. And I know that a manicure pales in comparison, Santana.”
She hates that he looks and sounds hot when he says her name, especially considering he’s still wearing light up antlers on his head. Finn Hudson is not supposed to be hot or make her vagina sing. This is completely foreign territory. “If you say so,” she tells him skeptically, punching him less than gently in the stomach. “I’m taking off.” If she doesn’t leave now, she’ll end up doing something she really wants with someone she really shouldn’t.
“You okay to drive?” he asks, concern shining in his brown eyes.
“Yes, Mom,” she sighs, her eyes rolling again.
“Don’t be a brat,” he warns, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into a hug. “Have a good Christmas, okay?”
She hugs him back, noticing for the first time how good he smells. “Yeah, you too. Maybe your mom and new daddy will bring you back something fun from Jamaica. Like rum or weed or a stupid Rastafarian hat or something.”
Finn pulls back and laughs down at her. “Bye, Chimi.” He ruffles her hair, messing it up completely. “See you for New Year’s?”
“Watch the hair, dickhead,” she snaps, knocking his hand away and pushing hair out of her eyes. “And yeah, I’ll be there unless I end up in jail for going all Menendez on my family or something during this trip.”
“Well, don’t do that. A party wouldn’t be the same without you,” Finn smiles. “Careful driving home.” He tugs at a strand of her hair and lumbers down the hallway to rejoin the party.
That strange feeling returns in the pit of her stomach and all she wants to do is get the fuck out of dodge because it’s weirding her the hell out.
… … …
She barely thinks about that kiss with Finn over the next week.
There are too many expensive Christmas presents open, numerous hills to ski down as fast as she can, and several pretty hot guys to flirt with while she drinks whiskey in the resort bar after a long day on the slopes.
He sneaks into her thoughts one night long after her parents have gone to bed and she’s relaxing in the hot tub with a beer in her hand as snow falls around her. Rachel can be blamed for him showing up in her head at all, she’s certain.
They talked earlier and Rachel mentioned that she and Puck were going sledding with Finn and a few other people at midnight once the best hill in town wasn’t crawling with kids anymore. To her best friend’s credit, she wasn’t mentioning him to try and get a pulse on “the situation.” No, she’d done that the day after the Christmas party and Santana shut that shit down real quick and chalked it up to a momentary lapse in judgment.
But there Finn is in her head, all tall and funny and cute. And she keeps replaying that kiss over and over until the heat in her body has nothing to do with the temperature of the water she’s submerged in. She’s so tense now she wants to scream and she wishes like hell she had someone there with her to make her do it. Instead, she takes matters into her own hands (ha) and slips one into her bikini bottoms, trying to picture that hot hookup she had last semester with Jason Stamm. The positions they did come easily, but his face keeps morphing into Finn’s as she desperately chases the release she needs. Her name spilling from Finn’s lips is the last thing she imagines before she breaks and the pleasure rushes through her body.
She sighs and downs the rest of her beer, watching the snow fall for a few more minutes. Fantasizing about fucking Finn Hudson while she fingers herself in a hot tub is so not acceptable. So she’s going to make it her number one mission when she gets back to Columbus to find someone to rail her good so she can forget all about the strange feelings that were stirred up over one stupid (amazing) kiss with a goofy (adorable) guy wearing light up reindeer antlers under the mistletoe.
… … …
Santana scowls when Rachel comes in her room, wakes her up and asks if she wants to go with her to help the boys get their apartment set up for the New Year’s Eve party they’re throwing later. “I’m not the help, Rachel,” Santana barks at her, still half asleep. “The boys know how to throw a goddamn party. Besides, my presence at their party is help enough.” She pulls the covers over her eyes, groaning when Rachel sits down on the side of the bed and peels them back again. “Rachel,” she growls, “I love you, but get the fuck out. ‘M tired.”
“Are you nervous about seeing Finn?” she inquires.
She opens one eye and glares balefully up at Rachel. “Because you’re my best friend and I’m tired, I’ll pretend you didn’t just ask me that. I don’t do nervous. Not around guys and especially not around Finn Hudson.”
“If you say so,” Rachel replies in that sing-song tone that says she clearly doesn’t believe her. “You seemed to really enjoy that kiss at the Christmas party. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Yeah, well, I enjoyed fucking Puck in high school, but you don’t see me doing that anymore now do you?” she asks snottily.
Rachel’s eyes narrow and her lips press together into a tight, thin line. “Don’t be such a bitch, Santana.”
“I have every right to be a bitch when you wake me up asking asinine questions. You don’t like it, there’s the damn door.” She pulls the covers back over her eyes and rolls away, effectively ending their conversation.
When she hears the front door of their apartment slam shut, she knows she’s hurt Rachel’s feelings. It was admittedly dirty to bring up her past with Puck, but shit, man…she’s tired and Rachel kept picking at the Finn thing after being warned to drop it. She knows she only got super snappy because her best friend was maybekindasorta onto something. And that something wasn’t anything she wanted to think about.
She sighs and decides to worry about everything later.
… … …
She doesn’t see Rachel again until she shows up fashionably late to the guys’ place where the party is already in full swing. Rachel’s standing in the living room laughing with one of their other friends, and when she looks up briefly and catches her eye, her smile fades and she turns her back.
See, she hates apologizing to people and there are less than a handful of people she’d ever actually do it for and legit mean it. Rachel’s one of them. She’ll get to it in a minute, she decides, after she’s had a drink.
Finn comes bounding down the stairs and he stops when he sees her, giving her a dimpled smile. “Hey, Chimi,” he greets. “You made it.”
Santana ignores the little flip in her belly because it’s totally ridiculous for her to still be thinking about the way his lips felt over hers. She just really needs to get laid and she’s going to find another guy at this party to help her out with that. It won’t be the tall and adorable guy standing in front of her. “Told you I’d be here,” she replies, her eyebrow ticking up. “No festive hat tonight?”
“Oh, I’ve got one for later. Don’t you worry,” he grins.
She rolls her eyes, but laughs at him. He’s really cute and she hates that she thinks so. “D’you mind if I put my coat in your room? It’s new and I’ll fucking cut a bitch if someone pukes on it.”
He laughs and nods his head. “Follow me.”
Once they’re in his room, she tosses her purse down on the chair behind his computer desk and slowly unbuttons her coat. He’s sitting on his bed, sipping at his beer and asking her about the ski trip. “It was alright,” she answers, cocking her head to the side and holding his gaze as she slips the coat off her shoulders.
Santana knows full well how she looks. She’s hot and the dress she bought especially for tonight is, too. It’s black, with long cutout sleeves that are accented at the wrists with silver cuffs. The top half is fairly modest and blouses out a little, but the skirt is short and tight around her hips, stopping high on her thighs. Seeing his eyes cloud a little as he tries (and fails) to rake them inconspicuously over her body sends a tiny thrill up the back of her spine and validates her choice even more. “That’s some dress,” he compliments, taking another pull from the cup in his hand.
A wicked smile stretches across her face. “Thanks,” she says, turning around to drape her coat over the back of the chair. He coughs, seemingly choking on his drink, and she takes that as his approval for the almost completely open back of her dress. “You okay, champ?” she asks, turning back around.
Finn nods and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He pushes to his feet and offers her a crooked grin. “If there’s a riot downstairs, it’ll be your fault,” he says, his eyes wide and quickly combing over her body again.
“Outstanding,” she smirks winningly. “That is exactly what I was going for.” Skirting around him, she pats his chest and looks up at him through her lashes. “See you later, Hudson.” She grins impishly at him over her shoulder and heads downstairs.
… ... …
She draws a lot of appreciative stares and a few low whistles when she walks through the party, fueling the fire of her already outrageously high self-esteem. The drinks are in sight and almost within her reach when Puck intercepts her and yanks her into the little laundry room off the kitchen. “Jesus, what?” Santana grouses, though she’s pretty sure she already knows the answer.
“Thanks a fucking lot for being such a twat bag to Rachel today,” he says, totally unimpressed as he leans back against the dryer. “You fucking know not to push the button you pushed this morning. The hell is wrong with you?”
“God, you’re really fighting her battles for her?” Santana asks disgustedly. “She’s better than that.”
“Listen, bitch, Rachel can take care of herself, but when you start stirring up shit and she gets mad at me for something that happened between you and me eons ago, you make it my business. I spent nearly an hour trying to talk her down.”
“Well, that’s your problem, but bonus points for the correct use of eons. You should’ve just gone down and left the talking out of it,” she bites back.
Puck rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Rachel’s your best fucking friend-stop being such a gash,” he growls.
Santana glares at him for a moment, but she knows he’s right. “You Jews and your guilt trips, I fucking swear,” she sighs. “I’m going to apologize to her.”
“’S all I ask.” She turns to leave and she hears him laugh, “Nice dress, whore.”
Santana laughs and sneers back at him. This is just how they work. They’re basically the same person and it’s kind of awesome sometimes. “I know it is, asshole.”
… … …
Rachel is pretty damn adept at avoiding when she wants to be and she’s fucking icy with it, Santana decides. She fills up her plastic cup from the keg and waits until she sees Rachel coming out of the bathroom before she pounces. “Hey,” she says, blocking Rachel’s path.
“Hello,” Rachel clips coolly, her full lips pursed in annoyance.
“Look, I’m sorry for being such a cunt to you this morning. You know I can’t handle any bullshit before my coffee.”
“That’s quite the backhanded apology, Santana,” Rachel tells her.
This is exactly why she hates apologizing to people, she’s not very skilled at it and people never let her off the hook that easily. Jesus. “Fuck, B, I said I was sorry and I am. I shouldn’t have said what I did, but let’s get over it already.” Rachel just looks at her shrewdly with those big brown eyes. Santana rolls her own eyes and groans a little, because she knows she’s going to have to admit what her friend already knows. “Okay, fine,” she says through clenched teeth, pulling her away from the crowd. “So you maybe hit a nerve this morning by pressing me about Finn,” she reluctantly admits.
“I’m sorry, I have no idea to what you are referring, Santana. What about Finn struck a nerve?” Rachel asks in a sugary voice. It was times like these that Santana kind of hated how well she’d rubbed off on her friend.
“You’re a bitch when you get like this, you know that?”
“Mmhmm,” Rachel nods. “I learned from the best. Now spill.”
“Goddamn, okay,” Santana says dramatically. “Not only did I enjoy Finn kissing me at the Christmas party, but I have been thinking about it occasionally since. And honestly, if I don’t find someone soon to take home and fuck, I might just kiss him again and see if it was a fluke.” She doesn’t at all care for the I-told-you-so look in Rachel’s eyes or the shit-eating grin on her face. “I mean, that’s probably all it was-just a fluke. No way Finn Hudson is actually, like, skilled at kissing and sex, right? Fuck, don’t answer that.”
Rachel’s hearty laugh bounces off the walls and Santana frowns. “I’m not saying anything other than you look so hot in that dress it’s ridiculous.”
“Truth,” she agrees, and they both laugh. “Thanks, B. We good?”
“We’re good,” Rachel smiles, wrapping her arms around her and squeezing tight.
“God, makeout already,” Puck drawls as he sidles up next to Rachel, slipping his arm around her waist. “And let me watch.”
“You can do better,” Santana tells Rachel, baring her teeth to Puck before she walks away.
… … …
It’s closing in on midnight and aside from dancing with a few guys she knows, she’s made very little progress on her goal for the evening. Nearly everyone at the party is pairing off for the big New Year’s Eve kiss and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t have someone to kiss, too. The dress alone should’ve raked in a ton of dick, but add her body in the dress, and well, she’s a little perplexed as to why she’s not naked and pinned beneath someone already.
And okay, it’s not like she hasn’t had any offers to speak of, but she found they were all too short or not dimpled enough to actually go through with it. She knows what that means and she’s so fucked it’s not even funny.
Someone taps her on the shoulder and she turns and sees Finn, who’s now wearing a purple cardboard top hat that reads Happy New Year in silver writing. Her eyebrow cocks up as she looks back at him and she finds it nearly impossible not to smile at his affinity for festive headwear. “Nice hat,” she tells him.
“I got you one,” he grins, producing a black and silver hat. “It matches.”
Well. Fuck. That’s really sweet of him and while she normally can’t stand sweet, it works so well on him that she can’t find it in herself to mind. “Thanks,” she says, smiling crookedly up at him.
His lips quirk up and he nods. “You’re welcome, San,” he responds. Finn holds the hat out and pulls it back at the last second. “Wait, are you gonna punch me in the stones if I see how this looks on you?”
She barks out a laugh at his wit and shakes her head. “Nah, this is a big improvement over reindeer antlers,” she tells him.
Finn puts the hat on her head and smoothes her hair back behind one ear. “You didn’t seem to mind the antlers when I was kissing you under the mistletoe,” he tells her in this quietly confident tone.
Him bringing up the kiss? Surprising.
“Whatever. It’s not like you gave me much choice in the matter.” She feels herself smiling again and this is so not like her.
His lips twitch into a smirk. “Sure. Uh huh. That’s the reason,” he says laughingly, winking at her.
Who is this Finn Hudson? Christ almighty. She doesn’t even know, but she likes it. “Look, just kiss me again or shut up about it already. Jesus.”
He shakes his head and something inside her sinks a bit. “You kiss me.”
Santana really can’t take it anymore, and Finn telling her to kiss him is pretty hot, so she balls her hands against the material of his button down and rises up on her toes until her lips are on his. All her fluke theories about Finn’s kissing go right out the damn window because he’s licking into her mouth and slipping his hands in her hair, knocking the hat off her head as he presses himself against her and kisses her like his life depends on it. She hopes it does, because the way her toes are curling in her shoes as the heat starts flickering low in her gut, she never wants him to stop.
Some idiot starts catcalling behind them and he pulls his lips off hers. She’s a little (lot) breathless and his eyes are all big and warm while he smiles at her, his hands sliding over her shoulders and down to rest at her waist. She needs more, wants more. Her hand wraps around the back of his neck and she pulls his head down until her lips are on his ear. “I really want to fuck you,” she breathes out. His hands tighten around her waist and the sound he makes in the back of his throat only makes him that much more attractive to her.
“Santana,” he says, half warningly.
She leans back, fixes him with a sultry look. “C’mon,” she purrs, slipping her fingers between the buttons of his shirt. “Let’s ring in the new year in style.” He looks surprised. She guesses she can’t really blame the guy; she is intense when she wants something. But Jesus Christ, she’s just offered herself up on a platter and if he doesn’t take her up on it, she’s going to be a little embarrassed and fully pissed.
He stays silent, gaping at her, and she can see the wheels turning in his head as he mulls it over. She’s already come this far, and she figures she might as well give him the last little push he seems to need. “Give in, Hudson. I want you,” she says flirtatiously, sliding her hand down his torso and hooking her fingers around his belt. “You want me, too.” She watches his Adam’s apple bob up and down in his throat and she feels his hands slide a little lower until they’re around her hips. “Your room?” she asks, making this as easy as possible on him. Finn blinks a few times in rapid succession and finally nods his head, grinning a little.
Santana smirks victoriously and heads for the stairs, tossing a smoldering look back at him over her shoulder. He’s close behind her and she knows that everyone at the party knows they’re going upstairs to fuck. And she cares less than not at all. Once she gets his hands on her body and she’s getting off, she won’t care about much of anything.