Hold Me Back and Make it Last: Chapter 5
Title: Hold Me Back and Make it Last
Author: Kiki
Fandom: Glee
Pairing/Character(s): Jesse/Rachel, Santana/Rachel, Puck/Santana
Rating: M
Word count: 1900
Spoilers: None, futurefic
Summary: Santana's working the late shift in the ER when Rachel comes in, needing help in more ways than one.
Disclaimer. None of this is mine.
}{
Santana woke late into the morning.
Her head felt evil.
She was getting too old for this shit.
She grabbed the sport's drink by her bed and drank half a bottle before her stomach could be alarmed by its sickening fluorescent colour.
Puck was collecting things from her floor.
"What are you doing?" she asked suspiciously, managing to pull herself into a sitting position.
He grinned up at her, eyes never making it past her bare breasts. "I'm out."
She raised her brow. "I thought you were staying for a while?"
"I am," he clarified, throwing the last of his clothes into his bag. He zipped it closed and stood. "Just not here."
She tilted her head in confusion, trying to remember if they'd had some drunken fight. She was pretty sure they'd banged like rockstars then fell asleep like babies. "Why?" she asked finally.
"I'm going to hang out at Mike's. See what he's got on his Playstation."
She checked under her nails absently. Something was going on, but she didn't want to sound like some desperate girlfriend.
"Christ, you don't even know, do you?" Puck snickered, throwing his bag on the bed and sitting beside it.
She narrowed her eyes, hating to play catch up.
His grin got even sharper. "Ooh, Raaachel. What, that doesn't sound familiar?" She aimed a kick at his thigh, barely glancing it.
"Fucking liar! I said no such thing!" Her mind was ringing in distress, not nearly as certain as she sounded.
He laughed again. "Yeah, but you were totally thinking it. I got a gift for sex vibes, and you and Berry were like five seconds away from starring in my very own Bang Brother's production."
"You've lost it." Santana went back to playing with her nails. Any expression on her face at this point in time would be embarrassing, and she was pretty sure Puck would never let her live it down.
"Nah uh." He crawled up the bed, sinking his fingers into the tender spots of her sides, making her squirm and giggle. "You got the matzo fever, the taste for Berry-crunch, the Streisand sweats, the-"
Santana managed to buck him off, slapping at his oversized head. It only made him laugh harder.
"Shut it! Tell a soul and I'll cut it off while you sleep." Santana didn't even want to hear it herself.
Puck laid on his back, looking unduly pleased with himself. He'd heard that threat so much it had lost all meaning.
She buried her face in her hands. Having some school-girl crush on someone you called your friend was never okay. It never got any easier.
"Look, I don't mind being your fuck buddy, or whatever, but I'm not gonna sleep with you while you pretend that I'm some five-foot-nothin' Streisand-wannabe. Not my kink." Puck patted her shoulder in some manly show of support. "And I'm pretty attached to my manhood, you know."
She shrugged off his hand. "Ugh. What am I going to do?"
"Fuck, San. Didn't you used to have game? You bang Berry and have your lady-wedding, or whatever. And leave St. James jerking off to his musicals," he added, pleased with the whole concept. He gave his most salacious wink, picking up his bag.
"You're leaving already?" she growled. She didn't want to be left here by herself, mentally seducing Rachel Berry. She'd go insane.
"Fuck yeah. I'm outta here before you start dressing me in knee socks and cardigans, bitch."
"Fine! Go!"
She evaded his goodbye kiss, merely making him laugh. "You can call me when you and Berry are ready to start experimenting."
She flipped him off, but he was already out the door.
}{
Before her afternoon shift started, she called Rachel twice. The chick couldn't handle her drink, and that's no secret.
She called once more during her first break, and spent her second checking her phone repeatedly.
She's never known Rachel not to pick up by the second ring.
She called in a favour and walked out of the hospital two hours early.
It was pathetic, but she couldn't keep her mind on her work, not until she heard Rachel's voice.
}{
Earlier
Jesse sat at the head of the dining table; Rachel couldn't begin to decipher the emotions on his face.
She laughed to cover her surprise. "I thought you'd be at rehearsal."
Jesse shrugged. "I thought you'd be at home."
She walked cautiously closer, giving her best show smile. "I spent the night with Santana," she explained.
"Just Santana?" he asked, moving closer with that beautiful grace.
"Girls' night," she finished, meticulously placing her bag on its hangar by the door. She couldn't hold his eyes, the intensity in his gaze made her heart beat unsteadily.
He touched her cheek, slowly turning her towards him. He seemed to search her face.
He let her go, jaw tightening imperceptibly. "Why are you lying to me?"
"I'm doing no such thing! I spent the night with Santana and-"
"And Puck!" He slammed his hand into the wall beside her face, trapping her. Rachel couldn't help the way her eyes flinched shut. "What is it with him, anyway? He was nothing but the school slut and would have been destined for some janitorial occupation and a town full of bastards if you hadn't worked so hard to get him into college."
"Stop it, Jesse." She slipped under his arm and walked to the kitchen. "You're being unnecessarily cruel. Noah worked hard for everything he's got." She poured a glass of water. Her head was foggy and her ears still rang from the music in the last club.
He followed her, slumping against the island behind her like some predator in wait. "I just want to know what it is about him that you just can't give up? We've been together for six years. You're going to be my wife, and you still won't stop seeing him."
Unconsciously, her fingers flew to her ring. She turned on him, never one to back down. "Yes, because we're friends. And I really don't like what you're implying, Jesse," she warned.
His lip curled. "I don't really have to imply a thing when my fiancée is sneaking out at night like some fifteen-year-old tramp to see her loser ex."
"You're being disgusting." Tears flooded her eyes; she couldn't stand the way he looked at her. "I hate it when you get like this," she murmured, twisting the ring on her finger.
His face closed down into something terrifying and Rachel took a step back before she could stop herself. "I'm disgusting?" He stalked closer. "I'm not the one out there doing god-knows-what and coming back here to spread your filth."
"You're being deliberately mean," she shook her head, "And I'm not going to talk to you like this." She lifted her head in preparation for a full storm out, but before she could leave he latched onto her wrist with a death grip. "Did you fuck him? Don't I at least deserve to know that?" he asked snidely.
"Get off me," Rachel hissed. They'd always gotten in fights that bordered on horrific, but she drew the line at letting someone lay fingers on her in anger. She snatched her wrist from his hand and rubbed at it, eyeing him warily. "What is your problem?"
"Him! Noah-fucking-nobody, who could make a million dollars and still be nothing more than a Lima loser. And it doesn't matter what kind of trash he is, you still pick him over me!"
Rachel's mouth fell open. "For the last time, Noah and I are friends. Just friends."
"Don't be such a little idiot!" Jesse gave her shoulders a small shake. "What do you think you could possibly have in common with him?"
Rachel's eyesight swam. She had to take a few deep breaths, just to keep her stomach down. The alcohol was catching up with her and the shaking wasn't helping. "But we had glee." She said it like it meant something huge and obvious. Because it did. To her, at least.
Glee was her. For so long it had been everything that defined her. And Puck was a part of New Directions-a part of her.
Jesse grabbed her by her arm and dragged her down the hall, even as she struggled against him. "Jesse!" As suddenly as he'd grabbed her, he let her go. Rachel was left trying to keep her nausea at bay, wobbling on the threshold of their study. She blinked away tears of nausea and exhaustion.
There was nothing but moonlight and the bright light from the hallway illuminating the room. Jesse was just a dark shadow.
Distantly, she tried to figure out why he was searching their trophy case. Nothing but brilliant gold trophies lined its shelves.
A terrifying thought was nibbling at her conscious.
"Jesse? What are you doing?" She made her voice as careful as possible.
"Show choir was a lifetime ago, Rachel," he bit out. "You need to get over it." He found the perfect gold note and gripped it by one of its beautiful red pillars. It was a perfect miniature of the one that sat in McKinley's halls. New Direction's National's trophy.
There was nothing in their apartment that meant more to her.
Jesse fiddled with the locks on their window.
"Don't you dare!" She flew to his side, beating at his arm. "Give it-" She stood on the tips of her toes, one arm stretching as far as humanly possible. Jesse barely had to lift his arm to keep it out of her reach. She was rarely so aware of her small stature. "Please, please, please!" She latched onto his sleeve, nails biting into his skin as she tried to swing it away from the window.
He shrugged her off, shoving her back without even looking.
The force sent her sprawling to the floor, her head cracking into the timber shelf with enough force that her jaw slammed shut and for a split second her vision went white. The pain came roaring in a moment later. Her hands went to her head, as if she was trying to keep it from splitting.
When Jesse turned around his hands were empty. From the twenty-eighth floor she hadn't even heard it hit the pavement.
Rachel sobbed brokenly.
She couldn't be sure if it was the pain, the fight, or the trophy she'd spent three years of her life working for.
She couldn't see clearly, but she could feel Jesse's hands travelling over her face around to the painful part of her head. "You're okay, baby. It's just a bit of an egg."
He picked her up easily. The world spun violently around her.
He tucked her into their bed so gently, placing tender kisses over her cheeks. "Don't cry, baby. It was just a trophy. It's silly to make yourself sick over something like that."
He sounded so reasonable. Of course she knew how stupid it was to be crying over some high school trophy. She was being ridiculous.
She just couldn't seem to stop.
Jesse sighed, crawling in beside her.
He was too close. She couldn't breathe and it was too hot.
She barely made it to the bathroom before emptying the contents of her stomach.
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