Fic: Kiss You Where It's Sore (1/3)

[mallardeer]

Title: Kiss You Where It's Sore (1/3)
Author: mallardeer 
Pairings: Quinn/Rachel/Brittany/Santana and most things in between, mentions of Finn/Rachel, Finn/Santana
Spoilers: Through 2.4 "Duets"
Summary: Rachel finds out about Finn and Santana. New relationships begin to slowly develop.
Author's Notes: I'm playing fast and loose with season 2 canon, but only because I started writing this before season 1 had ended. So let's just say the boob job thing never happened, but Quinn's back on the Cheerios. Whether she or Santana is the captain is kind of immaterial, I think, for my purposes.
Also, thanks to everyone on Tumblr for all the encouragement, especially Lucy and Megan.
Rachel had every intention of confronting Finn as soon as she’d gotten to school, but it so happened that she ran into Santana first. As usual, the cheerleader was at her locker with Brittany, but Rachel, for once, was not intimidated by the pair. She marched up to Santana and tapped her on the shoulder. “Is it true?” she demanded, before the other girl had even completely turned toward her.

When Santana saw that it was Rachel Berry at her side, she almost rolled her eyes and told her to get lost, but she saw something in the other girl’s eyes-something like anger and hurt-that softened her tongue. “Is what true, Rachel?” she asked, still irritated. Over Rachel’s head, Brittany frowned at her.

“Did you sleep with Finn?” Rachel asked, her jaw clenched, and Santana felt something almost like guilt.

But Rachel had been dating Jesse, and no one had forced Finn to sleep with her. Still, she’d known it would hurt Rachel, but she had told herself Rachel didn’t matter. If she could make herself believe that Brittany didn’t matter enough to sleep with Finn, of course Rachel shouldn’t matter. So she admitted it-but not as flippantly as she usually would have. And when Rachel’s face fell, Santana almost felt bad about what she’d done.

“Thank you for telling me the truth, Santana,” Rachel managed to say, and she turned on her heel and stomped off down the hallway.

“I wonder who told her,” Brittany said idly, and Santana just sighed. That would be the last time she confided in Quinn.

After Cheerios practice that afternoon, Santana slipped away from Brittany and found herself heading to the choir room, half sure it would be empty. But, as she’d suspected, Rachel was there at the piano, practicing scales. Santana slipped in unnoticed and sat beside her, making the other girl jump. “Santana!” she nearly shrieked, and Santana winced. “It is customary to announce your presence before just sitting down beside someone who is under the impression she is alone.”

“Sorry,” Santana muttered, staring at the piano keys.

“What do you want?” Rachel asked, when her unexpected visitor didn’t say anything further.

Santana just shrugged. She wasn’t entirely sure why she’d gone looking for Rachel, but something in the girl’s expression that morning wouldn’t leave her mind. “I didn’t want to hurt your feelings,” she admitted finally, and Rachel frowned.

“I’m-I’m not mad at you, Santana. I’m not so self-centered that I imagined I factored at all into your decision to sleep with Finn. It’s just… I asked him, after-after it happened, and he told me he had been unable to go through with it.”

Santana sighed. Finn Hudson was the dumbest person in the entire school. Possibly the entire town. “He told me he was waiting for the right person, and I felt… I felt like I could be the right person, but I was with Jesse, and I just… But he wasn’t waiting for the right person at all! He just gave it away to the first person who offered to take it!” she raged, and Santana scowled. “This has nothing to do with you, Santana, really,” Rachel murmured, recovering herself. “Just that… You don’t care about Finn, so you weren’t…his right person. And he lied to me.”

“He’s a jerk, Rachel,” she blurted, realizing she did feel bad for the other girl. “He’s no good for you.”

“Yes, well. You’re no good for Brittany,” she retorted, and Santana winced.

“I treat Britt better than Finn treats you,” she insisted quietly. “I’ve never done anything behind her back, and I’ve never lied to her.”

“I’m sorry,” Rachel muttered. “That was uncalled for.”

“Are you sure you really want to be dating him?” Santana prodded, and Rachel stood up.

“I’m not sure I trust you enough to talk to you about this, Santana,” she said stiffly, because even though glee had brought the twelve of them closer together, Rachel remembered very well how they’d all treated her before.

“Sure. You don’t have to tell me,” Santana allowed, looking up at her. “Just… Is Quinn the one who told you?” she asked quietly, and Rachel nodded.

“Quinn’s only ever wanted to hurt me,” she muttered. “Could you leave, Santana? I really need to practice.”

“Sorry I bothered you,” Santana said, getting up. “And sorry I… Sorry,” she said, and left.

“I think Quinn is in love with Rachel,” Santana said, sitting down on the end of Brittany’s bed.

Brittany didn’t even look up from the book she was reading. “Since, like, eighth grade,” she confirmed, and Santana scowled.

“What?” she asked, but Brittany kept reading. “Hey, pay attention to me for a minute,” she commanded, pulling Brittany’s book away from her. “How many times have you read this, anyway?” she asked, and Brittany snatched it back.

“I don’t know, a hundred,” she said defensively, and Santana smiled and smoothed an errant lock of blonde hair behind the other girl’s ear.

“Can we talk?” she asked, her tone softening, and Brittany set her book down. “You’ve known Quinn…”

“She’s like those stupid little boys who pull a girl’s hair instead of telling her they like her,” Brittany shrugged.

It did make sense, Santana realized. Ever since high school had started, Quinn had fixated on torturing Rachel Berry way more than any of the other mouthbreathers. Santana hadn’t cared to look beyond Quinn’s actions for motives, because until recently, Rachel Berry had mostly been beneath her notice. And now she was tangled up in one of Rachel’s many love polygons. “I wish you hadn’t suggested I sleep with Finn,” she muttered, and Brittany carefully stroked her hair.

“I know.”

“Whatever, it’s still my fault anyway. Do you think Rachel could actually…like Quinn back?” Santana worried. Things between them had been strained for a while, but there was really nothing that could make Santana stop caring about Quinn.

“She does,” Brittany said. “But Quinn’s been terrible to her.” She paused, biting her lip thoughtfully. “But Rachel seems to go for people who’ve been terrible to her.”

“I know, right?” Santana smirked. “Should I say something to Quinn? She’s been miserable since she gave the kid up. And apparently, she’s yelling at Rachel about Finn now.”

“Well, I don’t think Quinn is going to figure this out herself,” Brittany said, but after a moment, her faced brightened. “Aw, San, it’s sweet that you’re worried about both of them.”

Santana sighed. Her instinct was to argue, but there was no use pretending she was a completely heartless bitch when it was just Brittany. “Yeah, well. I guess Rachel’s not so bad. And this is kind of my fault.”

“It’s Finn’s fault,” Brittany corrected her, and Santana smiled.

“It’s Finn’s fault,” she agreed, and Brittany kissed her gently.

“Can we talk?” Quinn heard at her elbow, and she was surprised to hear the concerned tone in Santana’s voice.

“You okay?” she asked, closing her locker.

“Yeah. But, uh, Rachel asked me about Finn yesterday. She seemed pretty upset.”

“You think I told her?” Quinn asked, arching an eyebrow, and Santana sighed.

“She told me you did,” she said quietly, and Quinn slumped.

“Whatever, the way she trails after him like a lost puppy is nauseating.” She shrugged. “She needs to move on.”

Santana almost blurted, “To you?” in her snidest tone, but she somehow bit her tongue. Putting Quinn on the defensive wouldn’t help anything. “What’s it to you?” she asked instead, trying to soften the words-but she wasn’t sure she succeeded.

“What is it to you?” Quinn retorted, anger flashing in her eyes, and Santana sighed. She should have sent Brittany on this mission.

“Look, I just… You’ve… God, I don’t know, Q, but something is wrong, and I feel like I’m partially responsible or something, and I just…”

“Realized your conscience works?” Quinn shot, and Santana clenched her jaw. She fought down her angry retort and instead dropped her eyes.

“I miss you,” she said quietly, and Quinn just stood there. “Do you wanna…come home with me? We can…talk. You can still trust me, Quinn.”

This was honestly the last thing Quinn had expected to happen to her that day, to have her erstwhile best friend practically beg for their friendship back. She looked at Santana, and she saw sincerity in her dark eyes, so she shrugged, not ready to admit how lonely she was-and how much she missed Santana as well. “What about Brittany?” she asked, her voice small.

“Brittany can handle one afternoon without me,” Santana replied, barely resisting the urge to roll her eyes, and Quinn offered her a tentative smile. “Come on,” she urged, and Quinn nodded and followed Santana out to their car.

They were silent on the way home, both girls having forgotten how to be comfortable in each other’s company, and Santana felt frustrated and useless and like this really should be something Brittany was doing. Brittany never felt uncomfortable, and she was way easier to talk to than prickly Santana. But Quinn was still her friend, and Quinn had been her first real friend other than Brittany, and so Santana was going to do this herself.

When they got to Santana’s house, they went up to her room and sat on the edge of the bed, not looking at each other. “Why’d you tell Rachel about me and Finn?” Santana finally asked, and Quinn bristled.

“I told you-she’s nauseating. I figured that was enough to get her to stop grossing me out.”

“Why’d you tell Rachel about me and Finn?” she asked again, gentler this time, and Quinn stood up.

“I don’t owe you any explanations, Santana. You never told me it was a secret.”

“It wasn’t. That’s not why I’m asking.”

“Then why are you asking?”

“It just… It seems like… You’re, um, focused? On Rachel a lot. I mean… She’s never… She…” Santana was at a loss for words that wouldn’t cause Quinn to haul off and slap her.

“Do not even start, Santana,” Quinn warned, but Santana could hear the other girl’s resolve crumbling.

“You don’t have to pretend around me, Quinn, jesus. I mean, it’s me,” she said plaintively. “Is it just the-the…another girl thing? I know that’s hard to get over, trust me, but it’s worth it,” she said, staring at the floor, ready for Quinn to fly at her or just turn around and leave.

“She’s… She’s a girl,” Quinn said softly. “And I… You know I had no idea how to handle that, and you-you were so wrapped up in Brittany, and I just wanted to be normal.” Her voice cracked, and Santana lifted her head up. “And I tried to…ignore these feelings, and then I had to make them go away, and I took it too far, and I was horrible to her, and it didn’t work, and now-now I don’t even know if I know how to stop.” She was crying, Santana realized, even though there was hardly any trace of it in her voice, because even when Quinn gave in to her feelings, she never surrendered completely. But she saw the tears, slowly making their way down fair cheeks.

For a moment, Santana marveled at the blonde’s control. Then she got up and hugged her. “Let me help,” she murmured, and that was what got Quinn to fall apart.

She put her arms around Santana’s neck and her face in Santana’s shoulder and cried. After a few minutes, Santana guided her back to the bed, and they settled on it together, Quinn’s head secure beneath Santana’s chin, her arms around Santana’s waist. “I missed you,” Quinn said shakily.

“I’m sorry,” Santana breathed, and they were friends again.

Later that night, after Santana had taken Quinn home, and her parents had gone out, she was sitting on the stairs waiting for Brittany, her two youngest brothers safely asleep, the other brother safely at a friend’s house. The doorbell rang, and she frowned-usually, Brittany just came in-but she bounded downstairs to answer it. “Rachel?” she asked incredulously, finding the tiny brunette on her doorstep, looking somewhat worse for wear.

“I need a favor,” she said, and her eyes were glassy, and Santana gaped.

“Are you drunk?” she asked, pulling the girl inside.

“No,” Rachel lied, but Santana smelled grape vodka on her breath and wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Now. Despite my many, many suitors, I am still a virgin, and it has recently come to my attention that you are the girl to come to when one wants to rid oneself of one’s pesky virginity,” she said officiously, and Santana didn’t know whether to laugh or yell at her.

So she did neither. “Rachel,” she said forcefully, taking her by the shoulders. “You are drunk, and this is a terrible idea.”

“Why?” Rachel asked. “I wasn’t aware you had any particular standards, Santana,” she said bluntly, and Santana had to let that roll off her back because Rachel was drunk.

“It’s not that. This is not something you want,” Santana said quietly. “I know Finn hurt you, but sleeping with me never fixes anything.”

Rachel snorted, and Santana smirked. “Does Brittany feel that way?” she asked, and Santana rolled her eyes.

“Let’s just leave her out of this,” she suggested.

“You do that a lot, huh?” Rachel went on. “Forget about Brittany whenever it’s convenient?”

That stung, but Santana still fought down her anger. “Not anymore,” she said between clenched teeth. Ever since that whole disaster with Artie, she’d stopped pretending Brittany wasn’t the most important thing in her life-and done more than enough to make that clear to everyone. But Rachel was hurt and angry and drunk, and so she wouldn’t fight with her about it.

“Come on, Santana,” she cajoled. “I may be inexperienced, but I’m quite the fast learner. And then I won’t have to feel this way anymore.”

“What way is that?” Santana asked quietly, and Rachel just burst into tears. “All right, all right, come on,” she sighed, guiding the distraught girl to the living room.

That was when Brittany chose to make her entrance, and without even asking why Rachel Berry was bawling in Santana’s living room, she cuddled the girl on the couch and smoothed her hair until she passed out. “What was that all about?” Brittany asked Santana softly, and Santana just shook her head.

“She’s drunk,” she sighed, and Brittany accepted that for now. “I talked to Quinn.”

“How’d that go?”

“She finally admitted she has big, gay feelings for Rachel. Then she kind of cried for an hour. But it’s a start, right?” Santana asked hopefully, and Brittany smiled at her.

“It’s a start, babe,” she agreed.

When Rachel woke up, her head was pounding, her throat was dry, and she was on an unfamiliar couch. She blinked and saw there was a television on, and then she saw two heads in front of the couch, one dark, one fair, and she remembered where she’d ended up. She gingerly sat up, causing Santana and Brittany both to turn. “Oh, hey, you’re awake,” Brittany said sweetly. “There’s a bottle of water on the table. Do you need some Advil?” she offered, and Rachel nodded weakly.

Brittany got up, and Rachel was left with Santana. Whom she had thrown herself at mere hours before. Humiliated, she found herself to meet the other girl’s gaze. “Don’t worry about it,” Santana said softly. “You were drunk.”

“I still shouldn’t have said those things to you,” Rachel apologized.

“Maybe I deserved to have my crap thrown back in my face,” Santana returned. She got up and sat beside Rachel on the couch. “I’ll take you home in a little while, okay?”

“Okay,” Rachel sighed, and she reached for the water bottle.

When Brittany returned with the Advil, Rachel swallowed three and without thinking about it, leaned against Santana’s shoulder. “Are you going to use this against me at school?” she asked bluntly.

“Of course not,” Brittany said, eyeing Santana, but for once she had had no intention whatsoever of trying to humiliate Rachel Berry.

“No,” Santana assured her. “I know we’re not friends, but I’m over trying to ruin glee by ruining your life,” she promised, and Rachel snorted.

“Won’t Coach Sylvester throw you off the Cheerios, then?” she shot, and Santana sighed.

“Let her. I’ll run track,” she shrugged, and Rachel lifted her head up.

“You’re not at all like I expected, Santana.”

“I know.” Santana offered her one of her more friendly smirks, and Rachel smiled cautiously in return. “Come on. I’ll take you home. Where do your dads think you are?”

“At Finn’s,” she muttered, and Santana sighed and gingerly put her hand on the other girl’s back.

“Have you talked to him?” Brittany asked, and Rachel just started crying, collapsing against Santana.

“Oh god,” Santana complained, looking at Brittany, but she just smiled.

“Come on, San. You always make me feel better when I cry,” she urged.

“Yeah, but I like you,” Santana muttered, but Rachel heard it and shot to her feet, rubbing her eyes furiously. “Oh. Rachel, I-”

“I am sorry to have burdened you with my emotional issues, Santana. I will show myself out.”

“Hey, don’t be ridiculous,” Santana insisted, grabbing Rachel’s arm. “You’re not going anywhere by yourself.”

“I know enough to know when I am not wanted,” Rachel replied stiffly.

“Ugh, Christ, look. I’m sorry.” She looked helplessly at Brittany, who finally came to her rescue.

“Santana’s not good with crying. Unless it’s me. But don’t worry, Rachel. We’re your friends now,” she said brightly, and Rachel turned a skeptical look on Santana.

“Well. We’re not your enemies anymore,” she countered, and she smiled in relief when Rachel chuckled.

An hour later, after Santana had made grilled cheese sandwiches for everyone, and Brittany had done most of the listening as Rachel spilled her guts, the two of them were in Santana’s car, heading toward the Berrys’, while Brittany stayed home with Santana’s sleeping brothers. “Santana,” Rachel said timidly, turning down the radio, and Santana held her breath. “You’re friends with Quinn, right?”

“I think so,” Santana said slowly, and she caught Rachel frowning.

“So. You talk to her, right?” Rachel continued.

“Occasionally,” Santana said warily. “I’m not telling you what we’ve talked about, though, Berry, so don’t ask.”

“Oh. Right,” Rachel murmured.

The car was silent until they got to Rachel’s, and the girls just exchanged goodbyes, and that was it. Santana sighed and headed home, where she found Brittany and three-year-old Gabriel waiting for her on the living room couch. “Why is he up?” she asked shortly, and Brittany laughed, handing the baby over.

Gabriel yawned and nestled his head on his sister’s shoulder. “I heard him crying,” Brittany said, shrugging, “so I went to get him. I figured he’d rather have you put him back to bed.”

“Probably,” Santana agreed, bending to kiss Brittany’s forehead before taking her brother back upstairs. “Time for sleep, Gabo, okay?” she murmured soothingly, tucking him in, and he nodded. “Good. G’night, boy.”

“’Night, San,” he said sleepily, and she smoothed his soft hair back from his forehead.

When she turned toward the doorway, she found Brittany standing there, smiling at her. “Rachel should see you with your brothers. Then maybe she wouldn’t be so afraid of you,” she teased softly, and Santana just rolled her eyes and pushed past Brittany into the hallway.

“Maybe I want her to be afraid of me,” she replied.

“Did you talk in the car at all?” Brittany worried, as they slipped into Santana’s bedroom.

“She wanted to ask me if Quinn’s said anything about her, but I shut that down.”

“You should have told her Quinn likes her!” Brittany insisted, flopping onto the bed.

“It’s not our business,” Santana decided. Caught between Quinn and Rachel Berry was not somewhere she wanted to be.

“But Quinn and Rachel will never get together on their own. They’re both too stubborn.”

“And why do we want them to get together?” Santana asked. “Like Quinn needs the extra shit that comes with dating a girl?”

“Aw,” Brittany said playfully. “You’re worried about her!”

“Ugh. Britt, can we just not talk about Rachel or Quinn for the rest of the weekend?”

“Sure,” Brittany agreed easily, sliding her hand under Santana’s shirt.

“Mmrrr, what time is it?” Santana sighed, letting her head rest on Brittany’s shoulder.

“Almost midnight, why?”

“My parents will be home soon,” she muttered, and Brittany just laughed and kissed her forehead, withdrawing her hand.

“Then now is the perfect time for cuddling,” she insisted, and Santana, worn out by her odd evening, wordlessly agreed.

Santana’s weekend was blissfully Quinn and Rachel free and even more blissfully entirely full of Brittany, who stayed over on Friday and then just never left. Monday morning, Santana drove them to school, and Brittany grabbed her hand as they walked inside, and for the first time in a while, Santana felt like she could make it through her day relatively painlessly. She should have known that was impossible.

While she was opening Brittany’s locker for her again, Quinn came up beside her, and just as she was about to say hello, Rachel called her name. “Shit. Shit,” she muttered, as the other two girls realized they were both trying to talk to the same person. “Um, get lost, Berry,” Quinn said coldly. “Whatever you have to say about glee club can wait.”

“Quinn, you don’t have to be mean,” Brittany said, troubled, looking at Santana.

“Certainly, there was no call for rudeness, Quinn,” Rachel said stiffly. “I’m sorry to have intruded.”

“Rachel, wait,” Santana said quietly, as the girl made to stomp off. “I’ll talk to you at lunch, okay?”

Eyes wide, Rachel just nodded before slipping away, and Santana turned to Quinn. “What can I do for you?” she asked.

“You talk to her? Like a human being?”

“Listen, she was a mess when she found out about me and Finn.” Santana shrugged. “Being mean to her has gotten old.”

“If you tell her-”

“I have not said a single word to her about you,” Santana said fiercely, and Quinn met her eyes, both of them defiant.

“All right. Thank you,” Quinn murmured.

“And listen. If you like her, you can stop being mean to her. Come on, Britt,” she said, handing the other girl her history book.

“Oh, okay, bye, Quinn!” Brittany called, letting Santana steer her down the hall.

At lunch, Santana sighed and steeled herself for the glares from the other Cheerios before dropping into a seat across from Rachel at the loneliest table in the cafeteria. “How are you doing?” Santana asked quietly.

“I’ve been better,” Rachel said honestly. “Listen, I just wanted to thank you for being kind to me on Friday night. My behavior was deplorable.”

“Forget about it. You were upset. And I’ve never been very nice to you.”

“Yes, well. I do hope that maybe our shared experiences in glee club can erase some of that, um, bad feeling.”

“Yes, fine. I told you we’re over trying to bring down glee. I meant it when I said it was the best part of my day.”

“I know,” Rachel assured her. “Anyway, I know you’re friends with Quinn, so I won’t try to be your new best friend or anything, but it would mean a lot of me if you could, um, maybe be my glee co-captain? You’re better at making people listen to you than I am, sometimes.”

“Sure,” Santana said, smirking. “At your service, Man Hands.”

“And maybe you could work on calling me Rachel?” she asked slyly, and Santana grinned.

“Maybe.”

“Okay, really, why are you suddenly friends with her?” Quinn demanded, nearly shutting Santana’s hand in her locker.

“I told you. She was a mess about Finn, and I’m tired of being mean to her. We’re not friends,” Santana insisted, scowling at Quinn. “You have nothing to worry about, Fabray. Your big, gay secret is safe with me.”

“Shut up!” Quinn hissed, panicked.

“Okay, okay. Come on, let’s just go to glee, okay?”

“Where’s Brittany?” Quinn asked, as Santana put her arm across her shoulders.

“Brittany can find her way to glee without me,” Santana smirked, and Quinn laughed.

Glee rehearsal was a nice break from everyone’s problems-even though Rachel was refusing to even look at Finn, she was just as composed as usual. When Kurt made a crack about her going three minutes without interrupting Mr. Schue, Santana shot him a look that wiped the smug self-satisfaction from his face. “Kurt, that’s not necessary,” Mr. Schue chastised, but then he looked at Rachel. “Are you feeling all right?” he asked her, and Santana glared at him.

“Fine, thank you,” Rachel said, folding her hands in her lap. Mr. Schue paused for a moment, then continued with the lesson.

After rehearsal, Brittany pulled Santana’s arm and spun her around, making some of the other kids laugh-and Santana blush. “You’re in a good mood,” she said, smiling at her friend.

“I like glee,” Brittany said simply, beaming. “Hey! Rachel, what’re you doing right now?” she asked, as Rachel tried to slip by unnoticed.

“Rachel, hey, why haven’t you returned any of my calls?” Finn asked at the same time, lumbering over.

“She doesn’t want to talk you,” Santana said, and she and Brittany shepherded Rachel out of the choir room before Frankenteen could work out what had just happened. “You want a ride home?” Santana murmured, and Rachel just looked at her and nodded.

“Come home with us,” Brittany said cheerfully, and Rachel looked panicked for a moment.

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“You can be annoying sometimes, but we like you. San likes you a lot,” Brittany said, grinning at Santana, who rolled her eyes.

“Maybe being in glee has made me hate you less. Anyway, you don’t need to talk to Finn right now.”

“Okay,” Rachel nodded, and she let Brittany lead her to Santana’s car.

When they arrived at the Lopez home, Gabriel greeted them at the door, clambering for his sister, and Rachel was clearly stunned to see Santana grin widely at him and scoop him up into her arms. “I told you. Now Rachel can’t be scared of you anymore,” Brittany giggled, as they followed Santana and her brother inside.

“What?” Rachel asked.

“I told Santana if you saw her with her little brothers, you’d know she’s not scary. Not even a little.”

“Brittany. I am terrifying,” Santana insisted, making a scary face at her brother, but Gabriel just giggled and pulled her nose. Santana laughed, and after a beat, so did Rachel.

“You really are not a thing like I expected, Santana,” she marveled, and Santana just shrugged.

“Come on. You’ll have to meet my dad. He’s nosy. Then we can go upstairs and get homework out of the way or something.”

Brittany and Rachel stayed for dinner. Santana’s mother, home from work, was pleased to meet Rachel and pretending to be shocked that Brittany was at their dinner table yet again. Santana watched her friends interact with her family and smiled to herself. Rachel was odd, but so was Brittany, and the Lopez family was used to odd. They welcomed Rachel as one of their own nearly immediately.

After dinner, Brittany’s mother finally insisted that she come home, so she kissed Santana-and Rachel-and headed home. “You want a ride home?” Santana offered, as she picked Gabriel up off the kitchen floor.

“Oh. Well, I-”

“I’m not kicking you out. Stay as long as you like,” Santana said with a smile, and Rachel relaxed.

“Santana?”

“Hmm?” she asked, carrying her brother into the living room. Rachel dutifully followed.

“I’ve never really…had friends before…”

“You don’t need to make such a big deal out of everything,” Santana said, cringing. There was no way she should be Rachel Berry’s first real friend. But…she couldn’t really deny she was oddly touched. In a kind of unsettling way.

“Oh. Well. Forget I said anything.”

“Gladly,” Santana returned, but she gave the other girl a smile that set her at ease again.

“San, San, read,” Gabriel insisted, and Santana was at his mercy, as ever, so she sat with him in the middle of the living room and read their favorite book, Where the Wild Things Are.

Rachel sat opposite them, just watching the way they interacted and the way Gabriel’s eyes lit up when Santana did a deep, gruff voice for the wild things, and she could hardly believe this was the girl who acted like every other person was beneath her, who’d gone out of her way to needle and harass Rachel. There was a lot more to Santana Lopez than anyone knew-except Brittany, probably-and Rachel, for the first time since she’d found out the other girl had slept with Finn, really began to appreciate that.

And later, as she watched Santana getting her youngest brother ready for bed and heard the other Lopez boys running around in the hall getting ready for bed themselves, Rachel found the last thing she wanted was to go home to her own family that night. Santana noticed her reluctance to leave, after they’d watched two solid hours of terrible television, and so she told her to stay.

“Santana.” Rachel’s voice, softer than it had ever been, cut across the silence.

Santana shifted and looked across the bed at Rachel, who was staring at the ceiling. “Yes?”

“What’s it like?”

“You’re going to need to be more specific.”

“Sex. What’s sex like?” Rachel asked, and Santana sighed.

“If it’s with the right person, it can be fun. Or…sweet. Sometimes dirty. Sometimes two-or all three.”

“It’s just fun for you?”

“No. Not always.”

“Not with Brittany?”

“Not with Brittany,” Santana confirmed.

“What was it like with Finn?” Rachel asked, her voice flat.

“Rachel, please don’t.”

“Why?”

“Because. That won’t help you get over him.”

“No one ever wants me,” Rachel muttered, and Santana’s heart thumped painfully against her ribcage.

“Teenage boys are idiots,” she said lamely. “Finn doesn’t know how to appreciate a good thing.”

“He didn’t appreciate you either?” Rachel asked, sounding shocked, and Santana snorted a laugh.

“How about you just go to sleep?”

“I can’t.”

Santana didn’t say anything, and neither did Rachel for a while. For so long, in fact, that Santana was almost asleep when she heard the other girl again, her voice still small, “I would. Appreciate you.”

“Oh god,” Santana groaned, without thinking, and Rachel jolted up.

“You’re awake?” she stammered, and Santana sat up.

“Rachel. Do you even know what you’re talking about?”

“I know that you’re beautiful,” she said, her voice stronger now, “and that even though I was drunk, I still knew what I was doing.”

“And you know I’m with Brittany,” Santana said gently.

“Is that just an excuse? Or does it mean something?”

Santana sighed. Of course it meant something, but she knew Brittany would hardly mind if she fooled around with Rachel. In fact, she’d probably ask for details-Santana had noticed Brittany’s growing crush on Rachel and tried not to get jealous, and now she felt kind of foolish for ever even considering being jealous. Still, it seemed like a disastrous idea-and maybe like she’d be betraying Quinn. But it was hard to worry about Quinn right now, with Rachel in her bed and looking at her with dark eyes.

“Rachel, you shouldn’t force things like this,” Santana said weakly.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to force myself on you, Santana,” Rachel said stiffly.

“That’s not what I meant, exactly. I just… You said I wasn’t Finn’s right person. I’m not yours either.”

“I’m not sure there’s such a thing.”

“There probably isn’t. But let me ask you-why me?”

“Because… You know what you’re doing. And you’re lovely.” Rachel moved closer to Santana on the bed.

Santana sighed and gently pushed Rachel’s dark hair back from her face. “You’re really pretty, Rachel, you know that?” she murmured, and Rachel leaned into her touch.

“I’ve always found myself moderately attractive,” she replied, and Santana laughed.

“Stop being so serious. Hasn’t anyone told you you’re beautiful?” she asked, and Rachel’s breath caught as she shook her head and looked away. “Well. You’re beautiful,” Santana insisted, leaning forward until she was close enough to kiss the other girl-but she waited for Rachel to close the gap between them.

Rachel looked at her, so unsure of herself, and Santana couldn’t take it. She moved forward the last fraction of an inch and kissed Rachel carefully. When she pulled away, Rachel didn’t move, and she had to force herself not to make any negative noises. “Are you all right?” she asked tentatively.

“I… I’m sorry, Santana. I’m sorry.” She scrambled off the bed, and Santana realized, her heart sinking, that Rachel was crying.

“Hey, you have nothing to apologize for,” she insisted. “Look, don’t cry, all right? We can pretend this never happened, or whatever you want.”

“I just… I imagine it’s nice to feel wanted,” Rachel said wistfully, and Santana tugged her back onto the bed.

“It is. You’re not unwanted, Rachel.”

“He doesn’t want me, not really.”

“I told you. He’s an idiot.”

Rachel was silent again for a while, and Santana carefully rubbed her back. “She doesn’t want me,” she muttered, hanging her head, and Santana just pulled Rachel into her lap.

“Maybe she doesn’t. Maybe she does. But she’s not here, okay?”

“And you want me?”

“I wasn’t lying when I said you were beautiful, Rachel,” Santana said, and she bent her head down to kiss the girl in her arms again.

When she pulled away this time, Rachel pulled her back, kissing her desperately and tangling nimble fingers in her hair. “Shhh, shh, calm down,” Santana said, putting her own hands over Rachel’s. “There’s no need to rush, okay? I’m not going to change my mind. You, however, are free to do so.”

“And this is just…sex?”

“Yes,” Santana said honestly. Rachel nodded. And then pushed Santana onto her back.

Part Two.