Delusional Sunset - Ch. 2
Title: Delusional Sunset
Chapter: 2/?
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Brittany/Santana. Quinn/Rachel. Rachel/Santana friendship. Slight Finn/Quinn. Mention of Puck/Santana.
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.
Warning: Slightly AU. Language. Femslash. Mature themes. Spoilers through Season 2, just to be safe.
Author's Note: I really like the plot of this so it's mostly written for my own personal entertainment.
Summary: “You’re throwing a party while your dads are away, Rachel.” Santana stated as if Rachel had already agreed to the idea.
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Santana sat in the uncomfortable desk chair, bored stare fixed on the disgusting too pink bedroom wall. Her thoughts were a rambling mess of Rachel Berry related insults. Santana sighed heavily and rolled her eyes. A quick survey of Rachel’s bedroom had a truckload of scathing remarks filling her head. Her gaze dropped to the piece of notebook paper on the desk in front of her. Ways to Make Rachel Berry Less of an Annoying Little Troll was scrawled across the top of the page in Santana’s handwriting. Beneath Santana’s clever inscription was a crossed out Ways to Make ME, Rachel Berry, Popular. Next to the title was a half of a gold star sticker. Santana almost snickered at the memory of Rachel’s face when she tore the stupid “metaphor” off. Below the title… titles was a list. Santana skimmed the items that had check marks next to them, brows furrowing when she noticed only one of the six tasks had actually been accomplished.
“Well, it looks like you still have to redecorate this pedophile’s dream basement you dwell in. Shop for a new wardrobe in a mall that doesn’t have an Old Navy or Baby Gap. Throw a party that makes Puck’s end of the summer bash look like your eighth birthday. Learn how to be more subtle with your leering whenever Quinn or Brittany, you’re damn right I caught you checking out Britt’s ass in Glee today-”
“I was not looking at Brittany that way. She merely had a-”
Santana made a curt shushing motion with her hand. “Unless you want a Lima Heights Adjacent grade smack down you’ll shut your mouth and let me finish.”
Rachel huffed. Turning her nose up in the air and somehow managing to hold Santana’s seething glare. “Your posturing is extremely racist, Santana. You don’t even live in Li-”
“You do not want to go there, Berry.”
“ma Heights Adjacent. I’m well aware of the fact that we have been neighbors for nearly ten years and on the frequent occasion our parents keep company Eduardo and Rosa always speak fondly of-”
“Don’t call my parents by their first names!”
“Puerto Rico where you lived up until you moved to Lima-”
Santana slammed her fist against the desk so hard she made herself wince. Santana struggled to keep her voice at a peaceable level. She really, really did. “Rachel!”
Rachel jolted, her mouth snapping shut so quickly her teeth clanked.
“Moving on.” Santana growled. Fist unclenching and posture relaxing. She scribbled down another task, snatched the list from the desk, and whirled around to face Rachel. She held up the list, manicured nail pointing to the single checked off item. Drop Finn. “The only thing you’ve successfully managed to do in the past two and a half weeks is denounce your borderline psychotic obsession with Captain Shit-for-brains. Do you even understand that I’m putting my reputation on the line every time someone notices me actually speaking to you without making you storm off or cry?”
The comment stung, bit a lot deeper into Rachel’s thinning bravado than she’d expected. She knew that Santana was not her friend. She knew that Santana had ulterior motives. That the other brunette was only using her as a means to an end. It was foolish to think anything other than the truth. Rachel knew she was foolish. Knew she shouldn’t believe so much in people who would simply continue to let her down. Finn, her closest and oftentimes only friend, had let her down on numerous occasions. Despite her countless efforts to connect with Kurt, he had continuously made her the butt of his jokes. And now Santana. The girl would only perpetuate the vicious cycle Rachel subjected herself to. All in the name of having a friend. She just wanted one. Was that too much to ask?
‘Shit.’ Santana’s expression shifted to panic when she noticed the tears welling in Rachel’s eyes. She didn’t mean to make Rachel cry. The girl was just so fucking irritating.
“I think I’ve had enough plotting and scheming for one day. You should go home, Santana.” Rachel rapidly blinked back her tears. She prayed that Santana would leave soon so she could curl up on her bed, cry, eat her way through a pint of Rocky Road, and sit through a Barbra Streisand movie marathon.
“I…” I’m sorry. The apology was lodged uncomfortably between her guilt and her pride. Pride, as usual, won the never ending battle against every emotion that wasn’t anger. Santana stood and grabbed a hold of Rachel’s arm. She tugged the shorter brunette toward the door. “Come on. We’re going out.”
“Santana I don’t want to-”
“I owe you.” Santana paused in front of the door, her back to Rachel. Every muscle tensing in discomfort. “I know I’m… I’m not easy to be around.” Rachel saw the barely noticeable slump of Santana’s shoulders at the confession a split second before Santana’s hand left her arm to pull the door open. “Let’s go. I don’t have all day.”
The two girls were halfway out of the door when Leroy Berry popped his head out from the kitchen. All cheery smiles and contagious excitement directed at an obviously uncomfortable Santana. “Santana Lopez! Look at you, all grown up. I don’t think I’ve seen more than a glimpse of you since you were ten. Your parents are coming over for dinner at seven. Should I fix you a plate, honey?”
“Actually, Rach and I were planning on going to the mall.” She ignored the incredulous look Rachel shot her way. “I finally convinced her to let me give her a makeover.”
Leroy’s eyes widened in excitement. He turned his sparkling gaze on his only child. “My baby girl is growing up so fast. I remember when you were just a little thing. Running around in your birthday suit and-”
Santana coughed to cover up the snicker that escaped her.
“We’re leaving now.” Rachel’s cheeks flushed. She swiveled on her heel and headed for Santana’s cherry red sports car.
Leroy hopped after the teenagers, pausing at the door to stare nostalgically after them. He could remember when they were giggling little girls playing tag on his front lawn. ‘They grow up so fast.’ “Oh, sugar, I almost forgot! Your Daddy and I need new luggage for our annual cruise next week. Pick out something nice while you’re at the mall, hm?”
The moment Rachel’s wide brown eyes met Santana’s twinkling chocolate she knew her Dad’s statement had ruined the peaceful week she’d been planning. Santana’s lips curved into a smile that was pure mischief. “Don’t worry Mr. Berry. I’ll make sure Rach doesn’t forget.”
The second they were settled in Santana’s car, the engine roaring to life and Alanis Morrisette filtering softly through the speakers, Rachel attempted to stall the wheels she could practically see turning in Santana’s head. “Don’t even think about it, Santana. I can’t disobey my dads when they’re away. I will absolutely not betray their trust by throwing a-”
“You’re throwing a party while your dads are away, Rachel.” Santana stated as if Rachel had already agreed to the idea.
----------------------------- \\\\\
“Someone tells me you’re looking for booze hookups.” Puck smirked lazily, one arm propped up on Rachel’s locker.
Rachel swiveled around to face the boy, eyes shifting around the crowded hall. She stepped closer to him and lowered her voice. “You must be mistaken, Noah. I’m not-”
Puck’s expression turned serious almost instantly. “Santana told me you might try to do this and I’ve come prepared.”
“Noah, what-”
The dark haired boy pulled a slip of paper from his pocket. Clearing his throat and squinting his eyes to read Santana’s scrawl. “Rachel you are going to have a party whether you agree or not. I know where you live and I will not… NOT hesitate to sneak into your room in the middle of the night,” Puck paused, a dirty grin taking his lips. His twinkling gaze connected with Rachel’s mortified stare. His leer said what he didn’t need to say aloud and he returned his gaze to the note. “Tie you up, throw you in my trunk, and dump your ass in the-”
Rachel snatched the note out of Puck’s hands. “You were saying something about alcoholic beverages?”
Puck rubbed his hands together eagerly. “I can score you enough booze to tank the entire football team, but it’ll cost you.”
“If you think I’m going to make out with you or-”
“Chillax. You’ll always be My Hot Little Jewish American Princess but I’m aiming for someone with a little more… experience, if ya know what I mean.” He waggled his dark brows, his signature grin crawling across his lips.
Rachel wasn’t sure whether she should be insulted or relieved, she settled for confused. “What, exactly, are you proposing?”
The grin across his lips faded and his gaze shifted around the crowded hallway before he leaned in closer to Rachel, his voice hushed. “I’m talking about Santana.”
“Are you asking me to make out with Santana in exchange for alcohol, Noah?” Her eyebrows rose into the fringe of her bangs, features contorted in outrage.
“No.” Puck hissed, clearly becoming frustrated. He shook his head and ruffled his mohawk almost nervously. “You’re kind of like her new best friend or something, now that Britt’s spending all her time with Artie and, I don’t know,” He sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets and failing to meet Rachel’s curious gaze. “Maybe you could figure out why she’s been blowing me off instead of, you know, actually blow-”
“Noah!” Rachel flushed about ten shades of red, desperately wishing she could rid herself of the sudden mental image his words planted in her mind. She knew Santana had been hooking up with Puck since sometime around freshmen year but she tried her best to remain ignorant of the sordid details. And now, knowing that Santana was so painfully closeted, the information made her grimace. She wondered how long Santana had known, how long she had forced herself to endure pretending to be someone she wasn’t.
“What? It’s been a while. You can’t blame a dude for missing a hot piece of action like Santana.”
Rachel silently agreed, her blush darkening when she realized just what she was agreeing to. Outwardly, she sent Puck a disapproving glare. “I thought you were attempting to woo Lauren Zieces.”
“Well, yeah. Santana is hot when she gets jealous and we usually have a-fucking-mazing sex when she’s pissed off. Lately though… Anyway,” Puck intoned rudely. “Is the party on or not?”
Rachel nodded distractedly, soaking in the information Puck had given to her. It was an insight into Santana’s mind, into her motives for grooming Rachel into a popular girl. She barely listened to Puck saying something about stopping by on Saturday night or inviting the Gleeks to her party before he was strutting away, disappearing into the sea of students and leaving Rachel to her thoughts.
“Hey, Rachel.” Finn popped up behind Rachel and threw the girl one of his patented, swoon inducing lopsided grins.
He received an eye roll in response. Rachel tried to remember everything Santana instructed her to do when faced with Finn. Santana was adamant Rachel avoid any interaction with the boy. Stating that he would cramp her newfound popularity and was a problem best left to Quinn. She had to keep the conversation short.
“Yes, Finn?”
“Uh,” His grin faltered. He was used to Rachel getting that love struck expression whenever he was near her. “We haven’t talked in a while and I just-”
“Oh, look at the time.” Rachel glanced at her wrist. Her features softened in mock apology. “I really have to go.”
The small brunette was already turning the corner when Finn realized what just happened. “But you’re not even wearing a watch.”
Rachel turned the corner, ignoring Finn’s dejected response. She stopped dead in her tracks when she noticed Santana leaning against a wall and staring miserably into the distance. Rachel followed her stare and found Brittany and Artie talking. It hit her like a ton of bricks then. Some of the pieces to her Santana puzzle came together. Brittany was the goal. The reason behind Santana’s motives. How had she not seen it before? It was so blatantly obvious. The pained expression clouding Santana’s features every time Brittany was mentioned. The fact that, for supposedly being best friends, the two of them rarely interacted recently. Rachel distinctly remembered Brittany and Santana being overly affectionate. Always sitting impossibly close, whispering conspiratorially. They were virtually inseparable until recently.
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“Santana?” Her voice was soft and tentative and oh so fucking apprehensive it only served to flare Santana’s irrational anger.
The brunette refused to answer, refused to acknowledge Brittany’s presence even. They hadn’t been on speaking terms since the whole horrifying incident. The one where Santana bore her heart, her soul to Brittany because Brittany wanted her to. Brittany made her look inside of the one place Santana was so fucking afraid to look. Brittany made her look inside of herself. Made her analyze her fucking feelings. Made her act on those god forsaken emotions and then had the nerve to reject her. Now? Now Brittany was standing there like a kicked puppy and trying to talk to Santana, trying desperately to act like she didn’t fucking understand what she did. She tore Santana’s heart out, kicked it to the curb for some stupid boy and it hurt. It made her gut wretch and her heart throb whenever Brittany was in the same room as her.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“You know what, look,” Her voice was harsh and she nearly winced at the sound of it. “I don’t know.” Santana made some nonchalant gesture and turned to acknowledge Brittany for the first time since the blonde walked up to her. “All I know is you blew me off.”
“Is that why you’ve been hanging out with Rachel.” Brittany demanded more than asked. Her pretty features shifted from adorably confused to menacing as she stumbled over the name.
A chill tingled its way down Santana’s spine. It gave her a pleasant thrill to see the jealously bubbling in Brittany’s darkening gaze. “That is none of your business.”
“Why?” The blonde implored, tone hardening. “Best friends are supposed to tell each other everything.”
“Well,” Santana’s heart ached. She couldn’t believe Brittany had the gall to play that card on her. Best friends? If they really were best friends Brittany wouldn’t have ditched her for the stupid cripple boy. Brittany wouldn’t have waited almost three weeks to speak to her. “Maybe we’re not best friends.”
Brittany’s entire demeanor changed. Her sapphire eyes softened, jaw dropping. “You don’t mean that, San.”
Santana stiffened when Brittany’s tentative fingers encircled her wrist. She glared down at Brittany’s hand. It took almost everything inside of her to fight the urge to give in, to resist the call of Brittany’s skin and the pull of her eyes. She tore her wrist out of Brittany’s grasp and slammed her locker shut a lot harder than she intended. They both winced at the sound, Santana’s gut bubbling with something like heartbreak. Sending a string of venom surging from her lips in the form of vicious words. “I’m pretty sure I do.”
Chapter: 2/?
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Brittany/Santana. Quinn/Rachel. Rachel/Santana friendship. Slight Finn/Quinn. Mention of Puck/Santana.
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.
Warning: Slightly AU. Language. Femslash. Mature themes. Spoilers through Season 2, just to be safe.
Author's Note: I really like the plot of this so it's mostly written for my own personal entertainment.
Summary: “You’re throwing a party while your dads are away, Rachel.” Santana stated as if Rachel had already agreed to the idea.
------------------------------
Santana sat in the uncomfortable desk chair, bored stare fixed on the disgusting too pink bedroom wall. Her thoughts were a rambling mess of Rachel Berry related insults. Santana sighed heavily and rolled her eyes. A quick survey of Rachel’s bedroom had a truckload of scathing remarks filling her head. Her gaze dropped to the piece of notebook paper on the desk in front of her. Ways to Make Rachel Berry Less of an Annoying Little Troll was scrawled across the top of the page in Santana’s handwriting. Beneath Santana’s clever inscription was a crossed out Ways to Make ME, Rachel Berry, Popular. Next to the title was a half of a gold star sticker. Santana almost snickered at the memory of Rachel’s face when she tore the stupid “metaphor” off. Below the title… titles was a list. Santana skimmed the items that had check marks next to them, brows furrowing when she noticed only one of the six tasks had actually been accomplished.
“Well, it looks like you still have to redecorate this pedophile’s dream basement you dwell in. Shop for a new wardrobe in a mall that doesn’t have an Old Navy or Baby Gap. Throw a party that makes Puck’s end of the summer bash look like your eighth birthday. Learn how to be more subtle with your leering whenever Quinn or Brittany, you’re damn right I caught you checking out Britt’s ass in Glee today-”
“I was not looking at Brittany that way. She merely had a-”
Santana made a curt shushing motion with her hand. “Unless you want a Lima Heights Adjacent grade smack down you’ll shut your mouth and let me finish.”
Rachel huffed. Turning her nose up in the air and somehow managing to hold Santana’s seething glare. “Your posturing is extremely racist, Santana. You don’t even live in Li-”
“You do not want to go there, Berry.”
“ma Heights Adjacent. I’m well aware of the fact that we have been neighbors for nearly ten years and on the frequent occasion our parents keep company Eduardo and Rosa always speak fondly of-”
“Don’t call my parents by their first names!”
“Puerto Rico where you lived up until you moved to Lima-”
Santana slammed her fist against the desk so hard she made herself wince. Santana struggled to keep her voice at a peaceable level. She really, really did. “Rachel!”
Rachel jolted, her mouth snapping shut so quickly her teeth clanked.
“Moving on.” Santana growled. Fist unclenching and posture relaxing. She scribbled down another task, snatched the list from the desk, and whirled around to face Rachel. She held up the list, manicured nail pointing to the single checked off item. Drop Finn. “The only thing you’ve successfully managed to do in the past two and a half weeks is denounce your borderline psychotic obsession with Captain Shit-for-brains. Do you even understand that I’m putting my reputation on the line every time someone notices me actually speaking to you without making you storm off or cry?”
The comment stung, bit a lot deeper into Rachel’s thinning bravado than she’d expected. She knew that Santana was not her friend. She knew that Santana had ulterior motives. That the other brunette was only using her as a means to an end. It was foolish to think anything other than the truth. Rachel knew she was foolish. Knew she shouldn’t believe so much in people who would simply continue to let her down. Finn, her closest and oftentimes only friend, had let her down on numerous occasions. Despite her countless efforts to connect with Kurt, he had continuously made her the butt of his jokes. And now Santana. The girl would only perpetuate the vicious cycle Rachel subjected herself to. All in the name of having a friend. She just wanted one. Was that too much to ask?
‘Shit.’ Santana’s expression shifted to panic when she noticed the tears welling in Rachel’s eyes. She didn’t mean to make Rachel cry. The girl was just so fucking irritating.
“I think I’ve had enough plotting and scheming for one day. You should go home, Santana.” Rachel rapidly blinked back her tears. She prayed that Santana would leave soon so she could curl up on her bed, cry, eat her way through a pint of Rocky Road, and sit through a Barbra Streisand movie marathon.
“I…” I’m sorry. The apology was lodged uncomfortably between her guilt and her pride. Pride, as usual, won the never ending battle against every emotion that wasn’t anger. Santana stood and grabbed a hold of Rachel’s arm. She tugged the shorter brunette toward the door. “Come on. We’re going out.”
“Santana I don’t want to-”
“I owe you.” Santana paused in front of the door, her back to Rachel. Every muscle tensing in discomfort. “I know I’m… I’m not easy to be around.” Rachel saw the barely noticeable slump of Santana’s shoulders at the confession a split second before Santana’s hand left her arm to pull the door open. “Let’s go. I don’t have all day.”
The two girls were halfway out of the door when Leroy Berry popped his head out from the kitchen. All cheery smiles and contagious excitement directed at an obviously uncomfortable Santana. “Santana Lopez! Look at you, all grown up. I don’t think I’ve seen more than a glimpse of you since you were ten. Your parents are coming over for dinner at seven. Should I fix you a plate, honey?”
“Actually, Rach and I were planning on going to the mall.” She ignored the incredulous look Rachel shot her way. “I finally convinced her to let me give her a makeover.”
Leroy’s eyes widened in excitement. He turned his sparkling gaze on his only child. “My baby girl is growing up so fast. I remember when you were just a little thing. Running around in your birthday suit and-”
Santana coughed to cover up the snicker that escaped her.
“We’re leaving now.” Rachel’s cheeks flushed. She swiveled on her heel and headed for Santana’s cherry red sports car.
Leroy hopped after the teenagers, pausing at the door to stare nostalgically after them. He could remember when they were giggling little girls playing tag on his front lawn. ‘They grow up so fast.’ “Oh, sugar, I almost forgot! Your Daddy and I need new luggage for our annual cruise next week. Pick out something nice while you’re at the mall, hm?”
The moment Rachel’s wide brown eyes met Santana’s twinkling chocolate she knew her Dad’s statement had ruined the peaceful week she’d been planning. Santana’s lips curved into a smile that was pure mischief. “Don’t worry Mr. Berry. I’ll make sure Rach doesn’t forget.”
The second they were settled in Santana’s car, the engine roaring to life and Alanis Morrisette filtering softly through the speakers, Rachel attempted to stall the wheels she could practically see turning in Santana’s head. “Don’t even think about it, Santana. I can’t disobey my dads when they’re away. I will absolutely not betray their trust by throwing a-”
“You’re throwing a party while your dads are away, Rachel.” Santana stated as if Rachel had already agreed to the idea.
----------------------------- \\\\\
“Someone tells me you’re looking for booze hookups.” Puck smirked lazily, one arm propped up on Rachel’s locker.
Rachel swiveled around to face the boy, eyes shifting around the crowded hall. She stepped closer to him and lowered her voice. “You must be mistaken, Noah. I’m not-”
Puck’s expression turned serious almost instantly. “Santana told me you might try to do this and I’ve come prepared.”
“Noah, what-”
The dark haired boy pulled a slip of paper from his pocket. Clearing his throat and squinting his eyes to read Santana’s scrawl. “Rachel you are going to have a party whether you agree or not. I know where you live and I will not… NOT hesitate to sneak into your room in the middle of the night,” Puck paused, a dirty grin taking his lips. His twinkling gaze connected with Rachel’s mortified stare. His leer said what he didn’t need to say aloud and he returned his gaze to the note. “Tie you up, throw you in my trunk, and dump your ass in the-”
Rachel snatched the note out of Puck’s hands. “You were saying something about alcoholic beverages?”
Puck rubbed his hands together eagerly. “I can score you enough booze to tank the entire football team, but it’ll cost you.”
“If you think I’m going to make out with you or-”
“Chillax. You’ll always be My Hot Little Jewish American Princess but I’m aiming for someone with a little more… experience, if ya know what I mean.” He waggled his dark brows, his signature grin crawling across his lips.
Rachel wasn’t sure whether she should be insulted or relieved, she settled for confused. “What, exactly, are you proposing?”
The grin across his lips faded and his gaze shifted around the crowded hallway before he leaned in closer to Rachel, his voice hushed. “I’m talking about Santana.”
“Are you asking me to make out with Santana in exchange for alcohol, Noah?” Her eyebrows rose into the fringe of her bangs, features contorted in outrage.
“No.” Puck hissed, clearly becoming frustrated. He shook his head and ruffled his mohawk almost nervously. “You’re kind of like her new best friend or something, now that Britt’s spending all her time with Artie and, I don’t know,” He sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets and failing to meet Rachel’s curious gaze. “Maybe you could figure out why she’s been blowing me off instead of, you know, actually blow-”
“Noah!” Rachel flushed about ten shades of red, desperately wishing she could rid herself of the sudden mental image his words planted in her mind. She knew Santana had been hooking up with Puck since sometime around freshmen year but she tried her best to remain ignorant of the sordid details. And now, knowing that Santana was so painfully closeted, the information made her grimace. She wondered how long Santana had known, how long she had forced herself to endure pretending to be someone she wasn’t.
“What? It’s been a while. You can’t blame a dude for missing a hot piece of action like Santana.”
Rachel silently agreed, her blush darkening when she realized just what she was agreeing to. Outwardly, she sent Puck a disapproving glare. “I thought you were attempting to woo Lauren Zieces.”
“Well, yeah. Santana is hot when she gets jealous and we usually have a-fucking-mazing sex when she’s pissed off. Lately though… Anyway,” Puck intoned rudely. “Is the party on or not?”
Rachel nodded distractedly, soaking in the information Puck had given to her. It was an insight into Santana’s mind, into her motives for grooming Rachel into a popular girl. She barely listened to Puck saying something about stopping by on Saturday night or inviting the Gleeks to her party before he was strutting away, disappearing into the sea of students and leaving Rachel to her thoughts.
“Hey, Rachel.” Finn popped up behind Rachel and threw the girl one of his patented, swoon inducing lopsided grins.
He received an eye roll in response. Rachel tried to remember everything Santana instructed her to do when faced with Finn. Santana was adamant Rachel avoid any interaction with the boy. Stating that he would cramp her newfound popularity and was a problem best left to Quinn. She had to keep the conversation short.
“Yes, Finn?”
“Uh,” His grin faltered. He was used to Rachel getting that love struck expression whenever he was near her. “We haven’t talked in a while and I just-”
“Oh, look at the time.” Rachel glanced at her wrist. Her features softened in mock apology. “I really have to go.”
The small brunette was already turning the corner when Finn realized what just happened. “But you’re not even wearing a watch.”
Rachel turned the corner, ignoring Finn’s dejected response. She stopped dead in her tracks when she noticed Santana leaning against a wall and staring miserably into the distance. Rachel followed her stare and found Brittany and Artie talking. It hit her like a ton of bricks then. Some of the pieces to her Santana puzzle came together. Brittany was the goal. The reason behind Santana’s motives. How had she not seen it before? It was so blatantly obvious. The pained expression clouding Santana’s features every time Brittany was mentioned. The fact that, for supposedly being best friends, the two of them rarely interacted recently. Rachel distinctly remembered Brittany and Santana being overly affectionate. Always sitting impossibly close, whispering conspiratorially. They were virtually inseparable until recently.
----------------------------------
“Santana?” Her voice was soft and tentative and oh so fucking apprehensive it only served to flare Santana’s irrational anger.
The brunette refused to answer, refused to acknowledge Brittany’s presence even. They hadn’t been on speaking terms since the whole horrifying incident. The one where Santana bore her heart, her soul to Brittany because Brittany wanted her to. Brittany made her look inside of the one place Santana was so fucking afraid to look. Brittany made her look inside of herself. Made her analyze her fucking feelings. Made her act on those god forsaken emotions and then had the nerve to reject her. Now? Now Brittany was standing there like a kicked puppy and trying to talk to Santana, trying desperately to act like she didn’t fucking understand what she did. She tore Santana’s heart out, kicked it to the curb for some stupid boy and it hurt. It made her gut wretch and her heart throb whenever Brittany was in the same room as her.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“You know what, look,” Her voice was harsh and she nearly winced at the sound of it. “I don’t know.” Santana made some nonchalant gesture and turned to acknowledge Brittany for the first time since the blonde walked up to her. “All I know is you blew me off.”
“Is that why you’ve been hanging out with Rachel.” Brittany demanded more than asked. Her pretty features shifted from adorably confused to menacing as she stumbled over the name.
A chill tingled its way down Santana’s spine. It gave her a pleasant thrill to see the jealously bubbling in Brittany’s darkening gaze. “That is none of your business.”
“Why?” The blonde implored, tone hardening. “Best friends are supposed to tell each other everything.”
“Well,” Santana’s heart ached. She couldn’t believe Brittany had the gall to play that card on her. Best friends? If they really were best friends Brittany wouldn’t have ditched her for the stupid cripple boy. Brittany wouldn’t have waited almost three weeks to speak to her. “Maybe we’re not best friends.”
Brittany’s entire demeanor changed. Her sapphire eyes softened, jaw dropping. “You don’t mean that, San.”
Santana stiffened when Brittany’s tentative fingers encircled her wrist. She glared down at Brittany’s hand. It took almost everything inside of her to fight the urge to give in, to resist the call of Brittany’s skin and the pull of her eyes. She tore her wrist out of Brittany’s grasp and slammed her locker shut a lot harder than she intended. They both winced at the sound, Santana’s gut bubbling with something like heartbreak. Sending a string of venom surging from her lips in the form of vicious words. “I’m pretty sure I do.”