this modern love [3/?]
Title: this modern love
Pairing: Finn/Santana
Rating: R
Word Count: 3,687
They tumble into bed several more times during their break and despite all her rules they always end up spending the whole night together.
The morning sex is always great though, so whatever.
… … …
Their sexcapades continue into the new semester.
He asks her one morning as he pulls his t-shirt on over his head before he heads off to class if she wants to go out to dinner on Friday night.
She’s still coming down and having trouble focusing. “What?” she asks, blinking rapidly and pushing up on her elbows to look at him. He’s got his ridiculous grin on and major dimples winking in his cheeks.
“Dinner,” he chuckles. “Friday night.”
“No,” she answers, scrunching up her nose.
“Why not?”
“Because that sounds like a date.”
“So?” he asks, shrugging into his hoodie. “We’ve been having sex for weeks now. Maybe it’s time I take you on one.”
“We’re not dating, Finn, we’re fucking. Big difference.”
He doesn’t seem to like her answer much, but he doesn’t argue with her either. Glancing at the clock, he grabs his backpack and tells her he’s going to be late and that he’ll see her later.
She doesn’t hear from him for a few days after that.
… … …
Talking to Rachel about this isn’t the least bit helpful. She’s the poster child for dating and relationships, even if she is with the guy who was the antithesis of all that before they got together. She won’t understand at all why she said no to him.
“Let me get this straight,” she begins, leaning in the doorway of Santana’s room. “Finn, who’s cute and sweet and someone you have great sex with wants to take you to dinner and you said no?”
When she puts it like that…
“Shut up!” she snaps, throwing a magazine at her friend.
See? Not helpful.
… … …
Turns out she does see him on Friday night, but it’s not the dinner he asked her to.
They’re both at the bar like they usually are on the weekends ready to unwind after a week of classes and fuckloads reading and writing papers.
He’s in the back playing pool with Puck and some other guys she kind of knows. Things are reversed now, though, because he’s ignoring her and it blows.
God, why the hell did he have to ruin things by asking her on a stupid ass date? Everything between them was good and truth be told, she’s actually a little pissed at him for messing that up. A tiny voice inside her brain tells her that he wasn’t the one that messed it up. She wants to strangle that shrill bitch.
Fuck.
She likes him, okay.
And not just for what he does to her body (though that’s pretty much number one with a bullet right now). He’s nice and he’s funny, usually without meaning to be, and while she never thought she’d say this about Finn Hudson in ten zillion years, he’s actually pretty smart. The time since high school has really done him some good, because he’s light years away from the certified idiot he was back then.
Knowing he’s not going to approach her this time, she swallows a little of her pride, grabs a couple beers from the bar and heads over to his pool table.
Puck spots her first and he sneers at her over the top of his beer. “Sup, Satan?”
“Beat it, dickhead,” she bites out acidly. “I want to talk to your boy for a few.”
“Whatever. Our game’s over anyway. I know this is practically impossible for a bitch such as yourself, but try and be nice.”
She gives him a shitty look and waits until he’s out of earshot before speaking again. Finn doesn’t say a word; he just gathers all of the balls on the table and re-racks them. “Hey,” she greets finally, setting the beer she bought for him on the table. “Got you this.”
“Thanks,” he says, not bothering to look at her. He picks the beer up off the felt and sets it on the side. Walking around to the other side, he lines up his shot and breaks.
“Really?” she snaps sourly. “You’re not even going to fucking look at me or speak to me?”
He holds out the pool cue for her. “If you wanna talk, we’ll talk while we play. I’m stripes.”
His eyes aren’t warm like they normally are when he looks at her and there’s no trace of a grin, no hint of dimples. And seriously, if he’s this fucking pissed over one dinner rejection, then maybe she’s wasting her time.
But then he cocks his head to the side just slightly and arches an eyebrow challengingly at her and she’s reminded why this, why he, is worth it.
“Yeah, I know. I have eyes.” She grabs the pool cue harder than necessary and lines up her shot.
They don’t speak for several minutes and when she can’t stand it any longer, she opens her mouth. “You’re not the only dick in town, you know,” she says, sinking her shot effortlessly.
“Yeah, I know,” he replies casually, sipping his beer. “But apparently I’m the biggest.”
She completely misses her shot.
Fucking Puck and his big, stupid mouth.
“Alright, enough of this shit.” She tosses her cue on the table and stomps over to him, hands on her hips. “I’ll go.”
“Go where?” he asks, his eyes sparking in amusement.
She swears if he wasn’t so good in bed she would not be here right now, because fuck this noise. “Out to dinner, genius. The fuck do you think?”
“Are you just agreeing so I’ll still have sex with you?”
Santana rolls her eyes and counts to five. “Probably. But you’re getting what you want, so shut up.”
“If this is an apology you suck at it.” He grins a little, so she doesn’t think he’s fully serious.
“Yeah? Well, if you want me to ever suck you again, you’ll take me to the fucking Olive Garden tomorrow and we’ll get back to business as usual. Comprende?”
Finn’s brows draw together and his lips purse up crookedly the way they usually do when he’s confused. “Wait. How come you’re mad? I’m supposed to be mad. Don’t give orders.”
Santana just laughs and leans in to kiss him. “I’ll see you tomorrow at 7:00. And I swear to God, Hudson, don’t even think about showing up on my doorstep with flowers. I’ll shove them straight up your ass and stay home.”
He laughs and wraps his hands around her hips. His fingertips are toying with the back pockets of her jeans and she didn’t realize until just now how much she missed him. (And yeah, it’s only been four days, but fuck you very much.) “No flowers. Got it.” He pulls her in a little closer until she’s standing between his legs.
She gets a whiff of his cologne, the one she once told him she really likes, and something sparks inside her. The fact that there’s a bar full of people is about the only thing that stops her from pushing him back onto the pool table and crawling on top of him. “I’d ask if we’re good now, but the way your hand is grabbing my ass, I think I have my answer. Let’s get out of here and get naked.”
He gives her his really cute dimpled smile and shakes his head no. She’s about to either yell or hit and he must sense that because he kisses her and tells her he’s hanging with his friends tonight. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 7:00.”
Pouting isn’t something she does a whole lot of, but she feels a little like doing it now. Whatever. She has ways of making him come to her. He’ll be over at her place in no time. “Okay,” she says as nicely as she can manage. Have fun.” She reaches past him to grab her beer and completely presses against him in the process. He groans a little and she pulls back with a smile on her lips. “Later, Hudson.”
She doesn’t need to turn around to know that he stares at her ass as she walks away.
… … …
It’s closing in on 2:00am and she’s been texting him the dirtiest shit for the last hour or so. He’s been texting back and while she can tell his new to this whole sexting business, it’s still hot. The fact that he’s not in her apartment and in her right now, though, is fucking bananas.
Why aren’t you in me right now?
She taps her fingers on the back of her phone while she waits for him to respond. Her phone beeps and if it doesn’t say that he’s on his way, she’s rethinking this whole thing.
Goodnight, Chimi.
What. The. Fuck? I hate you, she fires back quickly.
See you tomorrow, is his response.
Oh fuck that. Fuck you. I’m not going. And she’s not. She means it. Nobody gets to make a fool of her, least of all that jolly green giant.
I’ll be there at 7. Sweet dreams.
“Ugh!” she huffs, hurling a pillow across the room.
… … …
It’s almost 5:00 and she’s still dead set on not going on this date and slamming the door in his face when he does come to pick her up. Sharing her decision with Rachel earlier resulted in her best friend shooting disappointed looks and clucking her tongue every time she walked into the room. She would’ve told her to fuck off with the Jewish guilt because it doesn’t work on her, but she’s Catholic, so it’s pretty much the same difference.
At 5:30, Rachel sits down beside her on the couch and turns off the episode of What Not to Wear she’d been watching. “Bitch, I was watching that,” she frowns, grabbing for the remote. “And if you’re just here to wave your pom-poms for Team Hudson, you can get gone. I’m not going on this stupid date with his stupid face to stupid Olive Garden.”
Rachel sighs and fixes her with this smile that says she knows more than she should. Santana hates that fucking smile. “Why not?” she asks simply.
“Because I don’t want to. Now, gimme the damn remote and go practice your songs or something.”
“Santana-why can’t you just admit that you like him? There’s no weakness in that. Just let him take you to dinner and see where it goes. You might have fun.”
Santana cast a long, sideways look at her. “Shut up,” she mutters bitterly, pushing up off the couch and heading for her room.
She knows she’s going to end up going and despite her constant insisting that it’s just for the breadsticks she knows she’s a damned liar.
… … …
She’s still in her room under the pretense of getting ready when she hears a knock on the door, then Rachel and Finn’s muffled voices as her friend ushers him into the apartment. Glancing at the clock, she can see that he’s extremely prompt.
She goes back to flipping disinterestedly through her magazine and making him wait. If she’s going to do this, it’s going to be on her terms because she’s not some desperate loser that wants to appear too eager about this date or whatever.
Twenty minutes pass when Rachel finally slips through the door and closes it behind her. “You’re being incredibly rude. Finn thinks you don’t want to go.”
“I told him last night I wasn’t going to, so I don’t know why he bothered to show up anyway.”
“Santana Lopez,” she snaps in this loud whisper. It’s almost like she’s yelling, but, you know, not really. Her face is practically turning purple though, so she knows Rachel’s not fucking around. “You are being an absolute child right now. Go and let that nice guy on our couch take you to the freakin’ Olive Garden already or I swear I will kick your butt!”
Santana’s eyebrow ticks up in amusement and she closes the magazine in her lap. “Fucking calm your ass. I’m going.” She stands up and takes one last look in the mirror. Her new short sweater dress paired with knee high boots was an excellent choice. “How do I look?” she asks knowingly.
Rachel’s lips quirk into a smile. “You know you look hot, so why are you even asking? Just go already. And have an amazing time.”
She doesn’t much care for the gleam Rachel has in her eye right now. It’s like she’s already planning their fucking wedding or something and that’s some legit messed up shit right there.
His head snaps up when her door opens and his eyes round a bit as he stares at her. “Wow,” he manages, getting to his feet. “That’s-you know we’re just going to Olive Garden, right?”
“You idiot,” she scoffs. “Can’t you just say that I look nice? God!” She stalks over to the hall closet to get her coat and she feels him right behind her.
“It’s a whole lot better than nice,” he tells her in this low voice that she’s half crazy about.
Glancing at him over her shoulder, she sees his eyes kind of cloud over and look at her like he knows he was a total moron for not coming over last night, which is absolutely true. “Well, let’s do this thing then,” she clips, slipping into her coat before he tries to be chivalrous or something and help her into it. The only time she likes help is when clothes are coming off, thanks.
… … …
Finn opens the car door for her and she pins him with a bitchy look that she doesn’t necessarily mean, but really, she doesn’t need a guy to open doors for her. “Seriously? I know how to open doors by-”
He cuts her off with a hot kiss that makes her grab the front of his coat and sends a tingle up her spine. “Let’s have fun tonight, San,” he says grinning when he pulls back. “Okay?”
His smile is infectious and she can’t help but smile in return. “If you’re gonna kiss me like that some more we definitely will.” Her smile widens teasingly and she slips into the front seat of his car and pulls the door shut before he can help.
She always makes fun of his car-it’s a 70-something Pontiac Firebird for God’s sake-but she knows how hard he worked on restoring it to mint condition with Burt one summer and she actually thinks it’s a pretty sweet ride. Still, she opens her mouth as soon as he’s seated beside her to ask “Why isn’t Freebird playing? Or Low Rider? C’mon, Hudson, I wanna rock like it’s 1974!”
Finn laughs and backs out of his parking space.
… … …
She tells him she hopes he brought a lot of money because she’s starving and plans on ordering half the menu. He takes her seriously for about two seconds and she’s reminded of that night years ago at Breadstix where she and Brittany spent the entire night ignoring him until she snapped at him to go wait in the car.
She laughs, takes pity on him and tells him she’s kidding and that he’s in luck because the never-ending pasta bowl is back.
… … …
They share a bottle of wine and she eats her body weight in pasta and breadsticks and laughs way more than she thought she would when the night started.
Most of the time she’s even laughing with him.
He tells her about the middle school he’s working in this semester for one of his classes and the kids (they sound like little fuckers if you ask her) he has to deal with. If you’d have told her in high school that Finn Hudson would grow up and become a teacher, she’d have laughed her ass off and feared for the future of humanity. Now she can’t imagine him doing anything else with his life.
He wants to know about her school stuff, but finance and economics aren’t the most riveting of dinner topics, she knows. It’s just that she likes numbers and wants to have a fucking lot of them in her bank account after she graduates and gets a job. Finn just smiles when she tells him as much and then asks if she wants dessert.
Of course she does. But she wants it to go so that she can take him home with her and get him to eat it off her body. She’ll surprise him with that idea later. It’d be even better if he put the pieces together on his own.
He’s smarter now, it could totally happen.
… … …
They’re driving through Columbus and she’s fiddling with the radio trying to find a station that comes in clearly. She gets that he wants his car to be in mint, original condition, or whatever, but fuck if she knows why he couldn’t spring for a better radio or rigged up an iPod or something. One finally comes in and she recognizes the song immediately. Finn stops at a red light and grins over at her. “Remember this?”
It’s an old Fleetwood Mac song they did together in glee one year for sectionals post the final Finn and Rachel breakup when shit was super awkward for everyone. She remembers the standing ovation that duet earned and taking home the first place trophy. Her face threatens to crack in half with a smile, but she curbs it as best she can. “Yeah. I remember how your clumsy ass kept dropping me while we were learning the choreography,” she teases.
“Maybe I just thought you looked super hot when you punched me in the chest after.”
“Whatever,” she laughs. “You didn’t like me back then. You were afraid of me.”
Finn shrugs and accelerates slowly through the green light. “Still super hot though,” he admits. “Besides, I like you now, even if you do still terrify me sometimes.” He slants a sideways look at her as a smile breaks across his face.
It’s not a surprise that he likes her. They’ve been screwing for weeks and he just took her on a date. Her heart still does this flippy thing in her chest that she doesn’t much care for (even though it feels pretty great) when he says it out loud. “I know,” she answers, her lips twitching when he looks over at her with this adorably incredulous look on his face.
“Well?” he asks, curiously glancing between her and the road ahead.
He’s fishing, she knows, and it shouldn’t be as freaking charming as it kind of is. “Well what?” she asks shortly.
“Santana, come on!” he nearly whines.
“Jesus fuck, Finn,” she says shortly. “I’m on a date with you and I’m not sleeping with anyone else. What do you think?” He doesn’t say anything in return, he just gets this bashful half smile on his face and he reminds her of an adorable puppy. Shit is ridiculous. “I swear, Hudson, your vagina has just eclipsed your penis. Pull in here,” she orders, gesturing to the old drive-in theater that’s closed for the winter.
“Why?” he asks, clearly confused.
“Just do it,” she snaps. He makes the turn and she reaches under her dress and slides her panties down her legs. The car is barely in park and she’s got her seatbelt off and sliding across the seat while she shrugs out of her coat. “Take your pants off.”
He blinks a few times and cocks an eyebrow up at her. “What-here?”
Santana rolls her eyes. God, he’s dumb sometimes. “No, in Siberia-Finn, how is it you have crazy game some of the time and are half retarded the rest? I took my panties off and I want to fuck you now. Get with the program!”
“Okay, okay,” he stammers quickly, reaching for his belt. “You just-caught me off guard.”
He’s half hard already, so she wraps her hand around him to help him get all the way there. It’s the middle of January for fuck’s sake and they’re in a parking lot, so it’s not like she’s going to prolong the foreplay or anything. She watches his face while he watches her hand jerk him. He looks really sexy right then, so she leans in and kisses him. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, Hudson,” she murmurs against his lips.
Finn reaches out and grabs her waist, eagerly pulling her towards him. “God, San,” he breathes out.
She just grins, hikes up her dress and straddles him. It’s a tight fit in the front seat of his car, but she’s flexible and manages just fine. Her hands sneak into his jacket and she lowers her body down on his.
“Wait, wait. Condom,” he manages.
Santana slides down over him anyway and smirks at the guttural groan that tears from his lips while she adjusts around him. “I’m clean and on the pill. Shut up and enjoy.” She moans as she rolls her hips (she’s missed him more than she cares to admit, really) and grabs his face roughly, looking into his eyes. “Don’t make me wait five days again. Got it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Fuck,” she bites out, riding him and setting the rhythm. “You’re so hot when you say things like that to me.”
Finn smiles and slips one hand into her hair and wraps the other around her hip. “Good.” He swipes his tongue over her bottom lip and makes her suck in a breath. “Hey, Chimi?”
“Yeah?” she asks, nipping a line over his jaw.
“I still get to lick dessert off you later, right?”
She smiles against his cheek and rolls her hips hard into his. She’s proud of him for figuring it out and figures he should be rewarded. “Oh, hell yes.”
“Good,” he repeats, dragging her mouth back to his.
Pairing: Finn/Santana
Rating: R
Word Count: 3,687
They tumble into bed several more times during their break and despite all her rules they always end up spending the whole night together.
The morning sex is always great though, so whatever.
… … …
Their sexcapades continue into the new semester.
He asks her one morning as he pulls his t-shirt on over his head before he heads off to class if she wants to go out to dinner on Friday night.
She’s still coming down and having trouble focusing. “What?” she asks, blinking rapidly and pushing up on her elbows to look at him. He’s got his ridiculous grin on and major dimples winking in his cheeks.
“Dinner,” he chuckles. “Friday night.”
“No,” she answers, scrunching up her nose.
“Why not?”
“Because that sounds like a date.”
“So?” he asks, shrugging into his hoodie. “We’ve been having sex for weeks now. Maybe it’s time I take you on one.”
“We’re not dating, Finn, we’re fucking. Big difference.”
He doesn’t seem to like her answer much, but he doesn’t argue with her either. Glancing at the clock, he grabs his backpack and tells her he’s going to be late and that he’ll see her later.
She doesn’t hear from him for a few days after that.
… … …
Talking to Rachel about this isn’t the least bit helpful. She’s the poster child for dating and relationships, even if she is with the guy who was the antithesis of all that before they got together. She won’t understand at all why she said no to him.
“Let me get this straight,” she begins, leaning in the doorway of Santana’s room. “Finn, who’s cute and sweet and someone you have great sex with wants to take you to dinner and you said no?”
When she puts it like that…
“Shut up!” she snaps, throwing a magazine at her friend.
See? Not helpful.
… … …
Turns out she does see him on Friday night, but it’s not the dinner he asked her to.
They’re both at the bar like they usually are on the weekends ready to unwind after a week of classes and fuckloads reading and writing papers.
He’s in the back playing pool with Puck and some other guys she kind of knows. Things are reversed now, though, because he’s ignoring her and it blows.
God, why the hell did he have to ruin things by asking her on a stupid ass date? Everything between them was good and truth be told, she’s actually a little pissed at him for messing that up. A tiny voice inside her brain tells her that he wasn’t the one that messed it up. She wants to strangle that shrill bitch.
Fuck.
She likes him, okay.
And not just for what he does to her body (though that’s pretty much number one with a bullet right now). He’s nice and he’s funny, usually without meaning to be, and while she never thought she’d say this about Finn Hudson in ten zillion years, he’s actually pretty smart. The time since high school has really done him some good, because he’s light years away from the certified idiot he was back then.
Knowing he’s not going to approach her this time, she swallows a little of her pride, grabs a couple beers from the bar and heads over to his pool table.
Puck spots her first and he sneers at her over the top of his beer. “Sup, Satan?”
“Beat it, dickhead,” she bites out acidly. “I want to talk to your boy for a few.”
“Whatever. Our game’s over anyway. I know this is practically impossible for a bitch such as yourself, but try and be nice.”
She gives him a shitty look and waits until he’s out of earshot before speaking again. Finn doesn’t say a word; he just gathers all of the balls on the table and re-racks them. “Hey,” she greets finally, setting the beer she bought for him on the table. “Got you this.”
“Thanks,” he says, not bothering to look at her. He picks the beer up off the felt and sets it on the side. Walking around to the other side, he lines up his shot and breaks.
“Really?” she snaps sourly. “You’re not even going to fucking look at me or speak to me?”
He holds out the pool cue for her. “If you wanna talk, we’ll talk while we play. I’m stripes.”
His eyes aren’t warm like they normally are when he looks at her and there’s no trace of a grin, no hint of dimples. And seriously, if he’s this fucking pissed over one dinner rejection, then maybe she’s wasting her time.
But then he cocks his head to the side just slightly and arches an eyebrow challengingly at her and she’s reminded why this, why he, is worth it.
“Yeah, I know. I have eyes.” She grabs the pool cue harder than necessary and lines up her shot.
They don’t speak for several minutes and when she can’t stand it any longer, she opens her mouth. “You’re not the only dick in town, you know,” she says, sinking her shot effortlessly.
“Yeah, I know,” he replies casually, sipping his beer. “But apparently I’m the biggest.”
She completely misses her shot.
Fucking Puck and his big, stupid mouth.
“Alright, enough of this shit.” She tosses her cue on the table and stomps over to him, hands on her hips. “I’ll go.”
“Go where?” he asks, his eyes sparking in amusement.
She swears if he wasn’t so good in bed she would not be here right now, because fuck this noise. “Out to dinner, genius. The fuck do you think?”
“Are you just agreeing so I’ll still have sex with you?”
Santana rolls her eyes and counts to five. “Probably. But you’re getting what you want, so shut up.”
“If this is an apology you suck at it.” He grins a little, so she doesn’t think he’s fully serious.
“Yeah? Well, if you want me to ever suck you again, you’ll take me to the fucking Olive Garden tomorrow and we’ll get back to business as usual. Comprende?”
Finn’s brows draw together and his lips purse up crookedly the way they usually do when he’s confused. “Wait. How come you’re mad? I’m supposed to be mad. Don’t give orders.”
Santana just laughs and leans in to kiss him. “I’ll see you tomorrow at 7:00. And I swear to God, Hudson, don’t even think about showing up on my doorstep with flowers. I’ll shove them straight up your ass and stay home.”
He laughs and wraps his hands around her hips. His fingertips are toying with the back pockets of her jeans and she didn’t realize until just now how much she missed him. (And yeah, it’s only been four days, but fuck you very much.) “No flowers. Got it.” He pulls her in a little closer until she’s standing between his legs.
She gets a whiff of his cologne, the one she once told him she really likes, and something sparks inside her. The fact that there’s a bar full of people is about the only thing that stops her from pushing him back onto the pool table and crawling on top of him. “I’d ask if we’re good now, but the way your hand is grabbing my ass, I think I have my answer. Let’s get out of here and get naked.”
He gives her his really cute dimpled smile and shakes his head no. She’s about to either yell or hit and he must sense that because he kisses her and tells her he’s hanging with his friends tonight. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 7:00.”
Pouting isn’t something she does a whole lot of, but she feels a little like doing it now. Whatever. She has ways of making him come to her. He’ll be over at her place in no time. “Okay,” she says as nicely as she can manage. Have fun.” She reaches past him to grab her beer and completely presses against him in the process. He groans a little and she pulls back with a smile on her lips. “Later, Hudson.”
She doesn’t need to turn around to know that he stares at her ass as she walks away.
… … …
It’s closing in on 2:00am and she’s been texting him the dirtiest shit for the last hour or so. He’s been texting back and while she can tell his new to this whole sexting business, it’s still hot. The fact that he’s not in her apartment and in her right now, though, is fucking bananas.
Why aren’t you in me right now?
She taps her fingers on the back of her phone while she waits for him to respond. Her phone beeps and if it doesn’t say that he’s on his way, she’s rethinking this whole thing.
Goodnight, Chimi.
What. The. Fuck? I hate you, she fires back quickly.
See you tomorrow, is his response.
Oh fuck that. Fuck you. I’m not going. And she’s not. She means it. Nobody gets to make a fool of her, least of all that jolly green giant.
I’ll be there at 7. Sweet dreams.
“Ugh!” she huffs, hurling a pillow across the room.
… … …
It’s almost 5:00 and she’s still dead set on not going on this date and slamming the door in his face when he does come to pick her up. Sharing her decision with Rachel earlier resulted in her best friend shooting disappointed looks and clucking her tongue every time she walked into the room. She would’ve told her to fuck off with the Jewish guilt because it doesn’t work on her, but she’s Catholic, so it’s pretty much the same difference.
At 5:30, Rachel sits down beside her on the couch and turns off the episode of What Not to Wear she’d been watching. “Bitch, I was watching that,” she frowns, grabbing for the remote. “And if you’re just here to wave your pom-poms for Team Hudson, you can get gone. I’m not going on this stupid date with his stupid face to stupid Olive Garden.”
Rachel sighs and fixes her with this smile that says she knows more than she should. Santana hates that fucking smile. “Why not?” she asks simply.
“Because I don’t want to. Now, gimme the damn remote and go practice your songs or something.”
“Santana-why can’t you just admit that you like him? There’s no weakness in that. Just let him take you to dinner and see where it goes. You might have fun.”
Santana cast a long, sideways look at her. “Shut up,” she mutters bitterly, pushing up off the couch and heading for her room.
She knows she’s going to end up going and despite her constant insisting that it’s just for the breadsticks she knows she’s a damned liar.
… … …
She’s still in her room under the pretense of getting ready when she hears a knock on the door, then Rachel and Finn’s muffled voices as her friend ushers him into the apartment. Glancing at the clock, she can see that he’s extremely prompt.
She goes back to flipping disinterestedly through her magazine and making him wait. If she’s going to do this, it’s going to be on her terms because she’s not some desperate loser that wants to appear too eager about this date or whatever.
Twenty minutes pass when Rachel finally slips through the door and closes it behind her. “You’re being incredibly rude. Finn thinks you don’t want to go.”
“I told him last night I wasn’t going to, so I don’t know why he bothered to show up anyway.”
“Santana Lopez,” she snaps in this loud whisper. It’s almost like she’s yelling, but, you know, not really. Her face is practically turning purple though, so she knows Rachel’s not fucking around. “You are being an absolute child right now. Go and let that nice guy on our couch take you to the freakin’ Olive Garden already or I swear I will kick your butt!”
Santana’s eyebrow ticks up in amusement and she closes the magazine in her lap. “Fucking calm your ass. I’m going.” She stands up and takes one last look in the mirror. Her new short sweater dress paired with knee high boots was an excellent choice. “How do I look?” she asks knowingly.
Rachel’s lips quirk into a smile. “You know you look hot, so why are you even asking? Just go already. And have an amazing time.”
She doesn’t much care for the gleam Rachel has in her eye right now. It’s like she’s already planning their fucking wedding or something and that’s some legit messed up shit right there.
His head snaps up when her door opens and his eyes round a bit as he stares at her. “Wow,” he manages, getting to his feet. “That’s-you know we’re just going to Olive Garden, right?”
“You idiot,” she scoffs. “Can’t you just say that I look nice? God!” She stalks over to the hall closet to get her coat and she feels him right behind her.
“It’s a whole lot better than nice,” he tells her in this low voice that she’s half crazy about.
Glancing at him over her shoulder, she sees his eyes kind of cloud over and look at her like he knows he was a total moron for not coming over last night, which is absolutely true. “Well, let’s do this thing then,” she clips, slipping into her coat before he tries to be chivalrous or something and help her into it. The only time she likes help is when clothes are coming off, thanks.
… … …
Finn opens the car door for her and she pins him with a bitchy look that she doesn’t necessarily mean, but really, she doesn’t need a guy to open doors for her. “Seriously? I know how to open doors by-”
He cuts her off with a hot kiss that makes her grab the front of his coat and sends a tingle up her spine. “Let’s have fun tonight, San,” he says grinning when he pulls back. “Okay?”
His smile is infectious and she can’t help but smile in return. “If you’re gonna kiss me like that some more we definitely will.” Her smile widens teasingly and she slips into the front seat of his car and pulls the door shut before he can help.
She always makes fun of his car-it’s a 70-something Pontiac Firebird for God’s sake-but she knows how hard he worked on restoring it to mint condition with Burt one summer and she actually thinks it’s a pretty sweet ride. Still, she opens her mouth as soon as he’s seated beside her to ask “Why isn’t Freebird playing? Or Low Rider? C’mon, Hudson, I wanna rock like it’s 1974!”
Finn laughs and backs out of his parking space.
… … …
She tells him she hopes he brought a lot of money because she’s starving and plans on ordering half the menu. He takes her seriously for about two seconds and she’s reminded of that night years ago at Breadstix where she and Brittany spent the entire night ignoring him until she snapped at him to go wait in the car.
She laughs, takes pity on him and tells him she’s kidding and that he’s in luck because the never-ending pasta bowl is back.
… … …
They share a bottle of wine and she eats her body weight in pasta and breadsticks and laughs way more than she thought she would when the night started.
Most of the time she’s even laughing with him.
He tells her about the middle school he’s working in this semester for one of his classes and the kids (they sound like little fuckers if you ask her) he has to deal with. If you’d have told her in high school that Finn Hudson would grow up and become a teacher, she’d have laughed her ass off and feared for the future of humanity. Now she can’t imagine him doing anything else with his life.
He wants to know about her school stuff, but finance and economics aren’t the most riveting of dinner topics, she knows. It’s just that she likes numbers and wants to have a fucking lot of them in her bank account after she graduates and gets a job. Finn just smiles when she tells him as much and then asks if she wants dessert.
Of course she does. But she wants it to go so that she can take him home with her and get him to eat it off her body. She’ll surprise him with that idea later. It’d be even better if he put the pieces together on his own.
He’s smarter now, it could totally happen.
… … …
They’re driving through Columbus and she’s fiddling with the radio trying to find a station that comes in clearly. She gets that he wants his car to be in mint, original condition, or whatever, but fuck if she knows why he couldn’t spring for a better radio or rigged up an iPod or something. One finally comes in and she recognizes the song immediately. Finn stops at a red light and grins over at her. “Remember this?”
It’s an old Fleetwood Mac song they did together in glee one year for sectionals post the final Finn and Rachel breakup when shit was super awkward for everyone. She remembers the standing ovation that duet earned and taking home the first place trophy. Her face threatens to crack in half with a smile, but she curbs it as best she can. “Yeah. I remember how your clumsy ass kept dropping me while we were learning the choreography,” she teases.
“Maybe I just thought you looked super hot when you punched me in the chest after.”
“Whatever,” she laughs. “You didn’t like me back then. You were afraid of me.”
Finn shrugs and accelerates slowly through the green light. “Still super hot though,” he admits. “Besides, I like you now, even if you do still terrify me sometimes.” He slants a sideways look at her as a smile breaks across his face.
It’s not a surprise that he likes her. They’ve been screwing for weeks and he just took her on a date. Her heart still does this flippy thing in her chest that she doesn’t much care for (even though it feels pretty great) when he says it out loud. “I know,” she answers, her lips twitching when he looks over at her with this adorably incredulous look on his face.
“Well?” he asks, curiously glancing between her and the road ahead.
He’s fishing, she knows, and it shouldn’t be as freaking charming as it kind of is. “Well what?” she asks shortly.
“Santana, come on!” he nearly whines.
“Jesus fuck, Finn,” she says shortly. “I’m on a date with you and I’m not sleeping with anyone else. What do you think?” He doesn’t say anything in return, he just gets this bashful half smile on his face and he reminds her of an adorable puppy. Shit is ridiculous. “I swear, Hudson, your vagina has just eclipsed your penis. Pull in here,” she orders, gesturing to the old drive-in theater that’s closed for the winter.
“Why?” he asks, clearly confused.
“Just do it,” she snaps. He makes the turn and she reaches under her dress and slides her panties down her legs. The car is barely in park and she’s got her seatbelt off and sliding across the seat while she shrugs out of her coat. “Take your pants off.”
He blinks a few times and cocks an eyebrow up at her. “What-here?”
Santana rolls her eyes. God, he’s dumb sometimes. “No, in Siberia-Finn, how is it you have crazy game some of the time and are half retarded the rest? I took my panties off and I want to fuck you now. Get with the program!”
“Okay, okay,” he stammers quickly, reaching for his belt. “You just-caught me off guard.”
He’s half hard already, so she wraps her hand around him to help him get all the way there. It’s the middle of January for fuck’s sake and they’re in a parking lot, so it’s not like she’s going to prolong the foreplay or anything. She watches his face while he watches her hand jerk him. He looks really sexy right then, so she leans in and kisses him. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, Hudson,” she murmurs against his lips.
Finn reaches out and grabs her waist, eagerly pulling her towards him. “God, San,” he breathes out.
She just grins, hikes up her dress and straddles him. It’s a tight fit in the front seat of his car, but she’s flexible and manages just fine. Her hands sneak into his jacket and she lowers her body down on his.
“Wait, wait. Condom,” he manages.
Santana slides down over him anyway and smirks at the guttural groan that tears from his lips while she adjusts around him. “I’m clean and on the pill. Shut up and enjoy.” She moans as she rolls her hips (she’s missed him more than she cares to admit, really) and grabs his face roughly, looking into his eyes. “Don’t make me wait five days again. Got it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Fuck,” she bites out, riding him and setting the rhythm. “You’re so hot when you say things like that to me.”
Finn smiles and slips one hand into her hair and wraps the other around her hip. “Good.” He swipes his tongue over her bottom lip and makes her suck in a breath. “Hey, Chimi?”
“Yeah?” she asks, nipping a line over his jaw.
“I still get to lick dessert off you later, right?”
She smiles against his cheek and rolls her hips hard into his. She’s proud of him for figuring it out and figures he should be rewarded. “Oh, hell yes.”
“Good,” he repeats, dragging her mouth back to his.