Glee Fic: You've Got A Friend (And Other Such (Nice) Clichés)
Title: You've Got A Friend (And Other Such (Nice) Clichés) Characters/Pairings: Blaine, Santana; hints of Santana/Brittany & Blaine/Kurt Rating: PG-13 Summary: In which Santana fails at hiding her concern for Blaine's relationship with Kurt, and Blaine is very obvious with his concern for Santana. A/N: I guess I'll just write Blanana fics after every episode, whatever.
You’ve Got A Friend (And Other Such (Nice) Clichés)
At the farthest, Santana can sense someone staring at her chest from a football field away. And in this small Asian restaurant, stuffed to the brim with people? Her radar has been going off all night. Sometimes she wishes she never got the implants, but it’s a passing thought that always gets brushed away when she sees a guy trying to hide a boner after staring for less than five seconds.
But this time, she knows someone is staring at her chest and can hear him fucking laughing. No one laughs at Santana Lopez without getting properly bitched at (and preferably castrated). Just as she’s about to whip out her vicious, vicious words, as Brittany once said, she discovers the person staring at her to be Blaine Anderson.
What the fuck?
She quirks her head to the side and gives him the smallest smile in greeting as she lazily drops her phone from one palm to the other.
“Nice shirt?” he says, taking a seat next to her at the bar.
She looks down at the white shirt that has “BITCH” printed on it and shakes her head. “And here I was thinking that I was watching you turn into a heterosexual.”
“Sadly, no. I’m a lost cause,” he states in a solemn tone that’s totally false.
“I mean, if Berry was able to make you question your obvious sexuality for a week, then hey, maybe I could suddenly inspire you to love tits,” she continues with a shrug of her shoulders as she pockets her phone.
He frowns a little at her mentioning that incident. “Well, if it makes you happy, I’m pretty sure I may be a little…Lopezsexual. Barely, but the sentiment is there, though.”
She grins briefly. “I suppose I could see myself becoming Andersexual. Maybe. It does sound vaguely like asexual, which I suppose wouldn’t be too far off the mark.”
His impressive brows furrow. “Wow. I’m torn. I shouldn’t be insulted because, well, I’m a homosexual and really don’t care about a woman’s sexuality because I don’t see women in that way. But I can’t help but feel insulted anyway, that you find me incapable of causing any sort of sexual response in any individual.”
She pats her hand on his knee. “It’s nothing personal. You just remind me of a Muppet.”
“Okay, now I’m officially insulted.”
“It won’t be the first time you feel that way if you continue to hang around me,” she admits, removing her hand and re-crossing her legs. A few of the guys down the bar stare at her and she shoots death glares at them all. She's trying to have a conversation, for fuck's sake.
“Good to know.”
She brings her attention back to him and rests her chin on her hand, her elbow on the bar. “So, picking up food for you and Hummel?” she inquires with a wiggle of her perfectly plucked brow.
“No, no, the Warblers get together once a month to eat sushi and watch some sort of movie series. Tonight’s Lord of the Rings.”
“Ugh, too dorky.”
Blaine grins sheepishly. “Kurt said the same thing - probably just as well he’s missing it.” His grin fades before he clears his throat, fiddling with the hem of his coat.
“Why aren’t you with him? Or why isn’t he with you guys? Boys are so stupid - that goodbye song didn’t have to be taken so literally,” she scoffs, opening her phone when it buzzes with a text.
“He has Friday night dinner with the…is it Hud-mels? Such a strange portmanteau. Anyway, it’s the first week they’re really together, you know,” he explains, his face strangely expressionless.
Feeling somewhat bad for him, she says, “Well, you saw him today, right? Boy looked sexay,” with a suggestive smirk and wink.
He flushes but smiles rather cheekily. “Yeah I saw him for a bit. He did, didn’t he?” Then he turns bright red and starts spluttering, “Oh god, TMI, I’m so sorry, you don’t need to hear everything that passes through my -”
She waves a hand dismissively. “Bitch, please. There’s no such thing as TMI when it comes to me.”
He’s still red around his neck a minute later when he asks, “Not that I don’t appreciate your concern for our relationship, because I do…but why are you concerned?” with pure curiosity on his face.
She looks away to stare at the tip of her boot. “I don’t know…I guess I feel a little guilty?” she admits, still not able to meet his gaze. “I mean you’re the one who totally got screwed with this whole transfer thing.”
He quirks his head to the side. “I didn’t get screwed though. Kurt is so happy to be back at McKinley and I’m happy that he’s happy,” he responds simply. Then he frowns. “I don’t like how I used happy three times in that sentence…” he murmurs to himself.
She rolls her eyes at his stupid rambling about grammaticism because, hello, she’s not his fucking English teacher and she doesn’t give a shit. “Liar, you’re miserable,” she retorts flatly.
“Isn’t it possible to be happy and miserable at the same time?” he asks with a slight shrug. “That’s way too complicated,” she scoffs.
“I think that’s when you know it’s something worth fighting for,” he says softly, almost unheard over the loud chatter of the bustling restaurant.
Her chest tightens as she tries not to think about Brittany and Karofsky and how fucked up this whole situation is and how she may just understand where Blaine's coming from. “Yeah…” she mutters inaudibly.
They don’t take for a minute or so as they eavesdrop on nearby conversations.
“So, um, are you and…Karofsky…?” Blaine starts, emotions like confusion, anger, inquisitiveness and even concern flicker in his eyes.
“Now? God no. I’m just picking up dinner for my dad and me.” “I meant…” he sighs, running his fingers through his hair, which has begun to lose its gel and is now curling on his forehead, “I thought Kurt was joking when he first told me this whole…thing,” he admits.
“Nope." Deciding to be honest since it's the least she owes him, she adds, "I wants ta be prom queen and Karofsky’s my winning ticket.”
He frowns a little. “That’s really all you want?”
“Hey, you're gay, you should understand,” she retorts with unnecessary sharpness and a lot of nastiness.
“I just think dating someone who repulses you is a little much for prom queen.”
“Well excuse me, not everyone can afford that high horse you’re sitting so primly on.”
She watches him scowl, looking like a teenager for the first time she's known him. “I’m not judging you.”
“Sure as hell seems that way.”
“I’m just worried - I still believe Karofsky can’t be completely trusted. I think you’re putting yourself in a tricky position and I’m just -”
Santana sighs, the fight leaving her as she reaches out to hold his chin, making sure his gaze matches hers. “If there’s one thing you have know about me is that I take care of myself. I have the one up on everyone.”
His eyes soften and oh no - “You better wipe that pitying look off your face before I rip your eyebrows out with my hands.” Blaine pulls back and almost falls off his stool, making her laugh evilly.
“Cold and cruel,” he mutters, rubbing his temple with his fingers.
“I like you.”
“I’m not going to lie, that scares me.”
“You’re just so…”
“…Naïve? Slow on the uptake? Heard it before. You and Kurt are kind of similar, I've come to realize.”
Santana smiles a little fondly. “I was actually going to say sweet, but hey, your words, not mine.”
Blaine grins, shaking his head.
She stares at him and considers the possibility of telling him. She’s pretty sure that he’ll stumble his way through an acceptance speech and maybe try to draw her in for a hug (she’ll want to knee him in the cojones) and then tell her she’s not alone, or some other BS like that.
It wouldn’t be a terrible reaction, really.
“Lopez?” one of the Asian women behind the register calls out, holding a paper bag.
She gracefully hops to her feet and says, “See ya, Blanderson.”
He gets to his feet and holds out his arms. She rolls her eyes and pretends to be annoyed about hugging him. “Don’t cop a feel,” she murmurs, squeezing.
“Not gonna happen,” he responds, “Don’t you ‘cop a feel.’” Maybe she won't knee him in the cojones.
“Not gonna happen,” she quips, secretly amused because hey, they’re both so, so gay (even if he doesn’t know about her). She pulls away and rests her hand on his cheek for a second before walking to the register to pay for her food.
Her phone buzzes again in her jacket and she knows it’s Karofsky again, demanding to know what time they should go to some jock’s party together. She would rather set herself on fire, but she has to do what she has to do in order to get Brittany, like wearing that shirt with "Lebanese" on it, even though nobody understood. Even though she changed out of it before leaving school.
As she’s stepping into her car, she hears, “Wait!”
She exhales and turns her head to see Blaine running towards her with two large paper bags of food. She kind of wants to mock him for how stupid he looks, but she can’t muster up the nerves when he stops in front of her, looking so sincere.
“Hey, uh, I was wondering if, um…” he takes a deeper breath, “You wanted to exchange numbers?”
“…You really like playing a knight in shining armor, don’t you?” She raises an eyebrow at him. Didn't he hear her in the restaurant? She doesn't need protection or whatever.
“I just…I like being there for people…for my friends.”
She inhales sharply, staring at this boy with a mix of disbelief and maybe just a little bit of awe. He’s so different from everyone else she knows - he actually wants to connect with people on an honest level, despite the consequences; everyone else just cares about social standing or trying to attain something, herself included. Sure, maybe being at that Hogwarts-wannabe school has made him a little idealistic and very much naïve, but -
She takes out her phone, her attempt at smirking utterly failing because she can't hold back a real smile. “Alright, Warbler, I’ve only got a few seconds, make it quick.”
You’ve Got A Friend (And Other Such (Nice) Clichés)
At the farthest, Santana can sense someone staring at her chest from a football field away. And in this small Asian restaurant, stuffed to the brim with people? Her radar has been going off all night. Sometimes she wishes she never got the implants, but it’s a passing thought that always gets brushed away when she sees a guy trying to hide a boner after staring for less than five seconds.
But this time, she knows someone is staring at her chest and can hear him fucking laughing. No one laughs at Santana Lopez without getting properly bitched at (and preferably castrated). Just as she’s about to whip out her vicious, vicious words, as Brittany once said, she discovers the person staring at her to be Blaine Anderson.
What the fuck?
She quirks her head to the side and gives him the smallest smile in greeting as she lazily drops her phone from one palm to the other.
“Nice shirt?” he says, taking a seat next to her at the bar.
She looks down at the white shirt that has “BITCH” printed on it and shakes her head. “And here I was thinking that I was watching you turn into a heterosexual.”
“Sadly, no. I’m a lost cause,” he states in a solemn tone that’s totally false.
“I mean, if Berry was able to make you question your obvious sexuality for a week, then hey, maybe I could suddenly inspire you to love tits,” she continues with a shrug of her shoulders as she pockets her phone.
He frowns a little at her mentioning that incident. “Well, if it makes you happy, I’m pretty sure I may be a little…Lopezsexual. Barely, but the sentiment is there, though.”
She grins briefly. “I suppose I could see myself becoming Andersexual. Maybe. It does sound vaguely like asexual, which I suppose wouldn’t be too far off the mark.”
His impressive brows furrow. “Wow. I’m torn. I shouldn’t be insulted because, well, I’m a homosexual and really don’t care about a woman’s sexuality because I don’t see women in that way. But I can’t help but feel insulted anyway, that you find me incapable of causing any sort of sexual response in any individual.”
She pats her hand on his knee. “It’s nothing personal. You just remind me of a Muppet.”
“Okay, now I’m officially insulted.”
“It won’t be the first time you feel that way if you continue to hang around me,” she admits, removing her hand and re-crossing her legs. A few of the guys down the bar stare at her and she shoots death glares at them all. She's trying to have a conversation, for fuck's sake.
“Good to know.”
She brings her attention back to him and rests her chin on her hand, her elbow on the bar. “So, picking up food for you and Hummel?” she inquires with a wiggle of her perfectly plucked brow.
“No, no, the Warblers get together once a month to eat sushi and watch some sort of movie series. Tonight’s Lord of the Rings.”
“Ugh, too dorky.”
Blaine grins sheepishly. “Kurt said the same thing - probably just as well he’s missing it.” His grin fades before he clears his throat, fiddling with the hem of his coat.
“Why aren’t you with him? Or why isn’t he with you guys? Boys are so stupid - that goodbye song didn’t have to be taken so literally,” she scoffs, opening her phone when it buzzes with a text.
“He has Friday night dinner with the…is it Hud-mels? Such a strange portmanteau. Anyway, it’s the first week they’re really together, you know,” he explains, his face strangely expressionless.
Feeling somewhat bad for him, she says, “Well, you saw him today, right? Boy looked sexay,” with a suggestive smirk and wink.
He flushes but smiles rather cheekily. “Yeah I saw him for a bit. He did, didn’t he?” Then he turns bright red and starts spluttering, “Oh god, TMI, I’m so sorry, you don’t need to hear everything that passes through my -”
She waves a hand dismissively. “Bitch, please. There’s no such thing as TMI when it comes to me.”
He’s still red around his neck a minute later when he asks, “Not that I don’t appreciate your concern for our relationship, because I do…but why are you concerned?” with pure curiosity on his face.
She looks away to stare at the tip of her boot. “I don’t know…I guess I feel a little guilty?” she admits, still not able to meet his gaze. “I mean you’re the one who totally got screwed with this whole transfer thing.”
He quirks his head to the side. “I didn’t get screwed though. Kurt is so happy to be back at McKinley and I’m happy that he’s happy,” he responds simply. Then he frowns. “I don’t like how I used happy three times in that sentence…” he murmurs to himself.
She rolls her eyes at his stupid rambling about grammaticism because, hello, she’s not his fucking English teacher and she doesn’t give a shit. “Liar, you’re miserable,” she retorts flatly.
“Isn’t it possible to be happy and miserable at the same time?” he asks with a slight shrug. “That’s way too complicated,” she scoffs.
“I think that’s when you know it’s something worth fighting for,” he says softly, almost unheard over the loud chatter of the bustling restaurant.
Her chest tightens as she tries not to think about Brittany and Karofsky and how fucked up this whole situation is and how she may just understand where Blaine's coming from. “Yeah…” she mutters inaudibly.
They don’t take for a minute or so as they eavesdrop on nearby conversations.
“So, um, are you and…Karofsky…?” Blaine starts, emotions like confusion, anger, inquisitiveness and even concern flicker in his eyes.
“Now? God no. I’m just picking up dinner for my dad and me.” “I meant…” he sighs, running his fingers through his hair, which has begun to lose its gel and is now curling on his forehead, “I thought Kurt was joking when he first told me this whole…thing,” he admits.
“Nope." Deciding to be honest since it's the least she owes him, she adds, "I wants ta be prom queen and Karofsky’s my winning ticket.”
He frowns a little. “That’s really all you want?”
“Hey, you're gay, you should understand,” she retorts with unnecessary sharpness and a lot of nastiness.
“I just think dating someone who repulses you is a little much for prom queen.”
“Well excuse me, not everyone can afford that high horse you’re sitting so primly on.”
She watches him scowl, looking like a teenager for the first time she's known him. “I’m not judging you.”
“Sure as hell seems that way.”
“I’m just worried - I still believe Karofsky can’t be completely trusted. I think you’re putting yourself in a tricky position and I’m just -”
Santana sighs, the fight leaving her as she reaches out to hold his chin, making sure his gaze matches hers. “If there’s one thing you have know about me is that I take care of myself. I have the one up on everyone.”
His eyes soften and oh no - “You better wipe that pitying look off your face before I rip your eyebrows out with my hands.” Blaine pulls back and almost falls off his stool, making her laugh evilly.
“Cold and cruel,” he mutters, rubbing his temple with his fingers.
“I like you.”
“I’m not going to lie, that scares me.”
“You’re just so…”
“…Naïve? Slow on the uptake? Heard it before. You and Kurt are kind of similar, I've come to realize.”
Santana smiles a little fondly. “I was actually going to say sweet, but hey, your words, not mine.”
Blaine grins, shaking his head.
She stares at him and considers the possibility of telling him. She’s pretty sure that he’ll stumble his way through an acceptance speech and maybe try to draw her in for a hug (she’ll want to knee him in the cojones) and then tell her she’s not alone, or some other BS like that.
It wouldn’t be a terrible reaction, really.
“Lopez?” one of the Asian women behind the register calls out, holding a paper bag.
She gracefully hops to her feet and says, “See ya, Blanderson.”
He gets to his feet and holds out his arms. She rolls her eyes and pretends to be annoyed about hugging him. “Don’t cop a feel,” she murmurs, squeezing.
“Not gonna happen,” he responds, “Don’t you ‘cop a feel.’” Maybe she won't knee him in the cojones.
“Not gonna happen,” she quips, secretly amused because hey, they’re both so, so gay (even if he doesn’t know about her). She pulls away and rests her hand on his cheek for a second before walking to the register to pay for her food.
Her phone buzzes again in her jacket and she knows it’s Karofsky again, demanding to know what time they should go to some jock’s party together. She would rather set herself on fire, but she has to do what she has to do in order to get Brittany, like wearing that shirt with "Lebanese" on it, even though nobody understood. Even though she changed out of it before leaving school.
As she’s stepping into her car, she hears, “Wait!”
She exhales and turns her head to see Blaine running towards her with two large paper bags of food. She kind of wants to mock him for how stupid he looks, but she can’t muster up the nerves when he stops in front of her, looking so sincere.
“Hey, uh, I was wondering if, um…” he takes a deeper breath, “You wanted to exchange numbers?”
“…You really like playing a knight in shining armor, don’t you?” She raises an eyebrow at him. Didn't he hear her in the restaurant? She doesn't need protection or whatever.
“I just…I like being there for people…for my friends.”
She inhales sharply, staring at this boy with a mix of disbelief and maybe just a little bit of awe. He’s so different from everyone else she knows - he actually wants to connect with people on an honest level, despite the consequences; everyone else just cares about social standing or trying to attain something, herself included. Sure, maybe being at that Hogwarts-wannabe school has made him a little idealistic and very much naïve, but -
She takes out her phone, her attempt at smirking utterly failing because she can't hold back a real smile. “Alright, Warbler, I’ve only got a few seconds, make it quick.”