[R] Can't Always Get What We Want (But Sometimes We Get What We Need)
Title: Can't Always Get What We Want (But Sometimes We Get What We Need)
Pairing: Mike/Santana, some Brittany/Santana, Brittany/Mike
Rating: R (mostly due to Santana's foul mouth)
Summary: Santana finds out she has a lot more in common with Mike Chang than she originally thought.
Spoilers: Season 2? Not totally following series canon. Brittany and Artie get together, but Mike never gets with Tina. It doesn't have to make sense, just run with it.
Word Count: 5,484
Can't Always Get What We Want (But Sometimes We Get What We Need)
Settle.
It was really the word that came to mind when Santana thought of her current relationship. It wasn't like she really wanted to be in it per say, but come on. A girl has needs. Plus, not that she would EVER admit it out loud, but sometimes she just liked having someone there. You know. So she wasn't lonely.
Not that Santana-Fucking-Lopez was ever lonely.
Although if she was, that sort of comfort might be nice. But she didn't ever kid herself. This wasn't where she wanted to be. Who she wanted to be sitting beside.
And she knew it was the same for him.
Slim fingers, but not the ones she craved, curled around her wrist as a hand slid down into hers. Santana slowly lowered her eyes, hoping that when she saw the hand in her own it would be the perfect pale compliment to her tanned tone. A tiny breath escaped her as she took in the sight of caramel skin blending with hers.
"Hey. What's up? You've been staring at the same piece of linoleum for the past five minutes," he murmured calmly.
Santana took in his voice, his hand playing casually with her own, and let everything click into place once more. She was in Glee. People were watching. He wasn't her.
She snapped her head up and her hand away from the boy and put on her well practiced bitch face.
"So you've been doing what? Perving on me for five minutes? Fuck off, Chang."
Mike rolled his eyes and gave the Latina his typically unimpressed look. He settled back in his chair next to Santana's and left his hand dangling between their seats, practically willing her to take it back into her lap. The cheerleader snorted at the thought. She didn't do handholding. Not with him at least. At the thought her eyes drifted toward the front of the room where the other Glee kids were preparing some sort of possible musical number for Sectionals. Frankly it didn't really matter to Santana; they seemed to change songs for the competition faster than Quinn went through baby daddies.
Her eyes glanced over to where Kurt and Mercedes seemed to be looking through swatches of fabric, probably planning the outlandish outfits they would be wearing. Finn and Sam seemed to be doing some sort of male bonding ritual, one Santana really couldn't care less about. Quinn, Tina, and Rachel all seemed preoccupied as they danced around Puck, brandishing his guitar, to practice their vocals. Her eyes watched the carefree girls longer than the rest, if only to avoid glancing at the part of the room she so desperately wanted to see.
Against her bidding she slowly turned her gaze down towards the piano. Artie leaned over the bench to brush some of the ivory keys, letting the light sound fill up the choir room with Puck's guitar. Blonde hair whipped through the air as she twirled past her boyfriend's wheelchair.
Santana's hand instinctively clenched in her lap, suddenly feeling very empty.
A ragged breath escaped from the boy slouched next to her. She momentarily tore her eyes away from the giggling blonde to look at her partner in misery. Mike's eyes stayed locked on Brittany as she spiraled across the front of the room. Santana watched quietly as his eyes narrowed slightly in longing, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Normally this would be the moment that she would pounce; any moment of weakness was something that needed to exploited to its full potential. Anything to reinforce that there was only one HBIC in this school (no matter what Quinn seemed to think lately).
Instead she shifted awkwardly on her chair.
Mike's stare was something that was all too familiar to her. After all, it had been mirrored on her own face just moments earlier.
It was an endless cycle really. Brittany would smile and dance. Santana would find her heart clench and her abdomen fill with that familiar warmth at her happiness. Brittany would go share her warm grin with her boyfriend. Santana would be left alone with just her left hand as company for the night. The inevitable orgasm would bring the smirk back to her face. Brittany would see the happy expression Santana wore and smile in turn and dance happily. Rinse. Repeat.
She let out a sigh and closed her eyes.
"I guess I felt like things would be different by now," Santana murmured quietly.
The boy tensed slightly on the chair next to her.
"I think they could," he responded quietly. "If you let them."
Santana remained quiet and slouched forward in her seat, letting her head drop down into her waiting hands.
=
=
Fuck.
Santana watched angrily as Brittany entered the choir room with Artie, pushing his wheelchair with her typical face-splitting grin on her face. Something tightened in her chest at the sight, but she fought off the urge to dart to the front of the room and pull her away from him. It was her fault after all. If she hadn't said those things to the blonde then she wouldn't be in this awkward situation. It wasn't that she didn't care for Brittany. She did. Brittany knew that too. But there was a natural order of things in this school and public, pre-college experimentation simply didn't factor into that order.
Brittany leaned down and gently pressed her lips to Artie's.
Fuck.
Santana's hands clamped down on the sides of the chair in an effort to keep her fists from coming out swinging.
"I can honestly say that I never saw this one coming," a voice came from her side.
The Latina yanked her gaze upwards toward the offending voice to see the last person she expected to reach out to her. Mike Chang simply returned her glare with his usual warm stare before claiming the chair to her right.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean, Chang?" Santana bit out.
He stayed quiet for a minute and continued watching Brittany's flirtations with her new man. Santana felt her chest tighten again at the sight and the silence.
"I honestly always thought it would be you up there," Mike finally admitted quietly.
Santana's body went rigid as the comment hit her.
"Excuse you. Just cause I dance on a football field with Elton John over there doesn't mean that I'm a queer too."
Mike raised an eyebrow at her in an unimpressed fashion. The Latina felt a flush rise up through her neck. Whether it was from rage or embarrassment, she wasn't even sure.
"People may think that I'm just here to interject a well-timed pop and lock session, but I'm still a part of this group you know? I see things. So say whatever you want Lopez, but I've noticed the way you look at her. "
Fuck.
Santana's fingers curled even more around the edge of her chair, knuckles turning white. Her body thrummed with the need to just lash out. Punch Chang. Trip Berry. Grab Brittany and never let go. Something.
"It's okay you know."
Mike shifted his chair a little closer to her own. It seemed impossible for her to get any tenser at this point. A sad grin spread across the Asian's face as he leaned conspiratorially towards her. Santana felt the urge to punch him once again, but held off as her muscles seemed to be too clenched to even begin to follow her bidding.
"You aren't the only one who watches her like that," he said quietly.
Brittany let out a loud bark of laughter as she fell gracefully into Artie's lap. The tinkling of the piano was cut short and replaced with the tinkling of her happy giggles.
Santana squeezed her eyes shut again. Her mouth drifted open as she searched for something to say, anything to say, to take her mind off the sight of the two of them burned into the back of her mind. Any other day and she would have slushied herself for even considering talking to the Asian boy. Sure he was a football player, but cool he was not.
"Well at least she is happy right?" Santana mumbled.
"Yeah. I guess..."
They continued to sit in silence, Matt watching the new couple flirt sadly while Santana tried to mentally block out the sound of Brittany's clear laughter.
Fuck today was terrible.
"You could be happy too, you know," came the quiet voice again.
Santana snorted at the ridiculous statement. She cracked open her eyes and glared at the Asian next to her.
"You have got to be kidding me. We were seriously almost having a fucking moment here, bonding or some shit over our misfortune, and you are gonna ruin that with a terrible come on? Seriously Chang?"
He rolled his eyes and leaned forward in his chair to be closer to the cheerleader.
"Look, you are obviously lonely. I'm lonely. Like it or not, right now Brittany is a hell of a lot happier without you. And I never really stood a chance in the first place. I'm not saying we have to have sex or fall in love or anything. All I'm offering is some company. Misery loves that, right?"
The brunette cheerleader just turned her focus back to the front of the room and watched as her best friend stood up again and resumed her eclectic dance across the choir room floor. Brittany stretched her legs up in a high kick with complete disregard for how short the Cheerios skirts truly were. Santana crossed her legs unconsciously.
"I could have had her and I fucked it up," Santana said quietly as her eyes traced Brittany's lithe figure.
She unexpectedly jolted forward in her seat as a fist knocked against her shoulder playfully. The cheerleader turned to Mike and fixed him with one of her best glares. Moment or not, no one just jocked around with her like that. Especially not Gumby boy.
"'It is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all,'" Mike said sagely with a smirk.
Santana threw her classic glare at Mike once again.
"So now not only you are Mr. Sensitive, you're like Shakespeare or some shit? Fuck off, Chang," Santana snapped back.
The happy grin never left the boy's face. Santana regarded him through narrowed eyes. Whatever. He had a point. They both had nothing to really lose at this point. And it wasn't like she was dating him or something. Just... keeping him company. It was mutually beneficial.
She let out a sigh and nudged his shoulder with her own, ignoring the way his smile seemed to grow even better at the sign of her acquiescence.
"I wouldn't want you to get lonely or anything," she mumbled.
A hand reached out and grabbed her own. Santana stiffened once more at the contact. Mike Chang remained quiet, choosing not to accidentally rile up the Latina again, and slid his fingers between her own.
Santana's eyes drifted shut. Mike's thin fingers played casually with her own and tears built at the edge of her eyelids at the memory of another dancer's hands interlaced with her own. Brittany's laugh rang out in the room once again and the fingers danced across her palm.
And Santana drifted.
=
=
Santana raised her head out of her hands as the memory faded out of her mind. As she summoned the courage to look at the front of the room once again she could see Brittany scampering across the floor in some bizarre dance step. Was the girl ever not dancing? It drove Santana crazy in more ways than one.
Suddenly her hand itched with that empty feeling once again.
She looked out of the corner of her eye to where Mike was silently appraising Brittany's dance skills. Her eyes trailed down his thin limb to where his hand dangled between their chairs. Waiting.
With a gruff sigh Santana dipped her hand down and scooped up his hand, the warmth quickly calming the tingling in her own. Mike jerked slightly at the unexpected contact, but recovered quickly with his usual calm smile.
"Don't make too much of it Chang. It's just been a bad day," Santana grunted.
Mike nodded and watched the short Cheerios skirt twirl around Brittany's thighs, knowing that the Latina was staring at exactly the same sight.
"I feel ya," he commiserated.
Santana had to admit that it wasn't as bad as it used to be back when Artie and Brittany had first started dating. Those days had been a blur of repression and angry slushies thrown on undeserving freshmen just so she could feel less weak. Lately it had been a little better. Mike's tanned fingers squirmed slightly in between her own as he brushed his thumb over the back of her hand.
Okay maybe more than a little better.
But there were still days like this one where everything seemed to hit her all over again. Santana let her eyes flutter shut again. Mike's fingers curled in hers and Brittany started to sing. The brunette tried to focus on the deep tone of her friend's voice and the feel of Mike's touch. In her mind's eye she pictured the blonde curled up on the chair next to her, leaning in, cradling her hand. It was her fingers that were tracing her wrist carefully, as if the wrong movement would set her off like an angry bull.
Except that the fingers were just a little bit too wide. The nails a little bit too blunt. The palm a little bit too muscular.
With a ragged breath Santana opened her eyes again and stared down at her lap. Two tanned hands clutching each other like it was the only thing that mattered in the world.
Brittany's touch faded once again out of her mind. Just as it had been for the past several months, growing more and more distant.
"Some days are definitely worse than others," the Latina murmured as she clutched her lifeline.
=
=
Santana's jaw clenched as she watched Brittany's skirt swish as she turned the corner of the hallway and out of sight with Artie. The Glee meeting had been an absolute nightmare at lunch. It started out innocently enough with an improvised musical number as always, but it quickly grew out of hand. Her blonde friend had grabbed her hand and pulled her into a dance while Mercedes crooned out whatever R&B number she had picked out that week. Normally this would have been cause for celebration; a way to enjoy her touch as Brittany's hands traced little patterns underneath the corners of Santana's Cheerio's top, swaying her body closer.
But Santana wasn't the one she was leaving with when the bell rang.
She tore her eyes away from the blank stretch of hallway where the annoyingly happy couple had disappeared and back to her locker. Fuck this day. Brittany couldn't just dance with her like that and then leave. Santana leaned her head forward against the cool metal of the locker in an attempt to cool down her decidedly overheated body.
It certainly didn't help that she hadn't gotten laid in several weeks.
Not for lack of offers though. Puck had been texting her multiple times a day on the hopes that she would finally get out of her funk enough to consider a quickie with him. Plus as a Cheerio she had half the football, basketball, and hockey teams at her beck and call. It just didn't seem right though. Her desire to run off with men for no-strings-attached fun was one of the factors that got her into this position in the first place. If Brittany wanted to punish her by running off with wheels for a few weeks that was fine.
But goddamn she was horny.
Santana tore open her locker and slammed her bag into it, not caring about the attention her rage drew from the sparse students in the hallways. She slammed the locker shut when she was done, gaining a sick amount of joy from the way the metallic clang echoed throughout the school.
"I'm not sure if the locker really deserved that," the annoying deep voice commented behind her.
"Bite me, Chang. God, do you just trail me in the shadows or something?" Santana growled out in response.
The lanky boy leaned up on the lockers next to her.
"Rough day, huh?"
"You have no fucking clue..." Santana trailed off as she rubbed at the crease that was rapidly growing between her eyebrows.
"Brittany danced with me right after you. I think I have some idea."
Santana nodded slowly at that. So they were both in the same boat. Again.
"Hey," Mike whispered. "Come here."
His slim fingers grasped her hand in what was now a very familiar motion. Santana couldn't help but feel his warmth radiate through her as it always did. Mike simply tugged at her again and lead her down the now empty corridors and to an out of the way corner of the school. He slowly opened the door to the hidden room and slipped inside, pulling Santana with him.
She knew this room well. The janitor's closet in this hall was a particular favorite of hers for when the school day seemed just a little bit too long. She'd used it multiple times with Puck (and Brittany), but she never would have pegged innocent, fluffy Mike Chang for having known about this key location.
"And how exactly do you know about the Room of Requirements here, Chang?" Santana questioned with an arch of her perfect eyebrow.
"You aren't exactly subtle, you know," said Mike with a chuckle. "More than once I've seen you disappear here after Glee with Puck or Brittany. Or on that one occasion both. You always seem a lot happier and less off-with-their-heads when you leave."
Santana huffed.
"You have no idea."
"Again, I think I do," Mike said as he pushed her up against the wall. "Why do you keep insisting otherwise?"
The cheerleader bristled and narrowed her eyes instinctively. Mike just smiled his usual sugar-coated grin. Without any preamble he dropped his head down to the shorter girl and pressed his lips lightly against Santana's, stopping any bitchy comments she might have been intending to throw out at him cold.
It was soft, but insistent, immediately cutting out any correlations between this janitor's closet and her experiences with Puck. It was almost as if she was in Mr. Kidney's space with her other partner in crime.
Santana's eyes drifted closed as Mike's hands ghosted her hips, tracing the same areas Brittany had just a few minutes before. Warmth soaked in from his hands and lit the familiar fire inside her once again. Punishment be dammed; she needed this. A moan slipped out from her lips before being swallowed up by Mike. He pulled back slightly and nudged her chin, forcing Santana to look him in the eyes.
"Misery loves company remember?" he said quietly.
"You are seriously ruining this by talking, Chang."
"You think I want to hear your voice bitching at me either?" he bit back.
The brunette leaned calmly against the wall as she regarded the tall Asian boy. He returned her questioning look just as steadily.
"You were thinking of her too," she stated.
Mike glanced to the side, guilt flashing over his face. Santana felt the fire flickering slightly inside of her and knew that she had to fix this soon or else she would be left once again with just the pictures of Brittany in her room and her memories for her Friday night fix.
She reached out and cuffed Mike's shoulder. He glanced back at her warily.
"As long as we both admit that we are thinking of her I don't give a fuck. It's not about us. It's about her."
Mike nodded tentatively, clearly a bit nervous by what they were about to do. Santana rolled her eyes and pushed off the wall towards him. She grabbed his hands and forced them back to her hips before reaching up to loop her arms around his neck. With a tug she pulled him back down towards her.
"You are so fucking bad at this," she growled as she closed the space between them.
Her teeth nipped at his lip, making him open his mouth in shock. Santana shoved her tongue into his mouth at the opportunity and she could feel his hands tighten around her skirt in response. She deepened the kiss, feeling the warmth seep back into her frame.
Thin, careful fingers splayed up under her top. Santana sighed as she thought about all the times the blonde had taken her inside this janitor's closet. Brittany would always venture up Santana's shirt first, eager to play with her new assets that she had acquired over the summer vacation. Mike's cautious explorations with his tongue faded into the blonde's tender kisses.
Suddenly Santana could feel all the warmth inside her shooting south. And apparently Mike could too.
"Urgh. You do realize it's going to be a lot fucking easier for you to pretend I'm her than it will be for me?"
Mike pulled away from the Latina with a dazed look.
"What?"
"Your dick is poking me. While that would normally be a non-issue, I'm finding myself so not turned on right now."
Mike stared back at her in confusion.
"Um... What do you expect me to do about that? It's kind of an inevitability when doing this isn't it?"
"It's not fucking fair," Santana grunted.
"Fair? When has fair ever been a word to define what we are?"
Santana glared back at Mike. He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze before sighing in exasperation.
"Fine."
With a dancer's grace he pulled her hand and twirled him closer to him, bringing her back up against his front. He angled his hips away from her to make sure the growing bulge in his pants was not in contact with Santana's behind.
His hand reached down and grasped the apex between her legs roughly, making all the heat inside of Santana focus once again. Her breath escaped her shakily. Such a bold move was unexpected of Chang, that was for sure. Not many people would switch from compliant to dominating so quickly.
Only her.
"Happy now?" he grumbled into the shell of her ear.
Santana continued to breathe deeply, gathering her bearings. Her eyes darted to the corner of the small closet. She quickly leaned forward and flicked the switch there, plunging the room into darkness.
"Okay. Now," she whispered.
=
=
"Is this one of the worst kind of days?" Mike asked with a quizzical raised eyebrow.
Santana smirked at him.
"As much as I wish I could say it was, I don't think Mr. Kidney was too happy after the last time."
Mike grinned back and Santana could have sworn she had seen a bit of red rush to his cheeks. Despite all the 'misery parties' they had held all over the school the boy still managed to blush. It was kind of cute.
Kind of.
A flash of blue and black caught her eye as Tina leaned forward across the chairs in front of them to grab her water bottle. Her gaze dipped down and caught on their clasped hands. Santana could see her mouth open to make some sort of comment and instantaneously de-laced her fingers from Mike's.
"Hey Gothika," Santana snapped pointedly in the other girl's face to draw her attention. "Can I help you with something?"
Tina froze on the spot like a small woodland creature, shaking her head energetically. The Latina raised her eyebrows in a clear sign of dismissal. The other girl clutched her water bottle close and scrambled over the backs of the chairs to rejoin the other girls up front.
"I don't know why you have to keep doing that."
Santana flexed her hand, noticing the lack of comforting warmth once more. She glanced over at Mike to see that he had drawn his arms around himself, tucking his hands into his sides where they would be unreachable to her. The cheerleader growled slightly, but made no motion towards him.
It wasn't like Santana liked to hold hands. Fuck no. Only bitches like Quinn and her Ken doll did that sort of lame thing.
Her arms wrapped around herself defensively and she scowled.
"Keep doing what? Acting socially acceptable?"
Mike just rolled his eyes at her. The argument would be pointless.
And he never won.
=
=
Santana shuffled down the hall with her heavy Cheerios duffle over her shoulder. The strap slipped down slightly, causing her to falter in her strides. She let out a growl of frustration and tried to hike the bag back up her shoulder before being stopped by a tan hand.
Mike leaned into her side and shifted the bag from her shoulder to his with ease. Santana blinked warily at him before continuing to stalk down the hallway towards the exit. The Asian trotted up to her side silently. It was almost a sort of understanding they had reached. The less Mike talked the less Santana lashed out at him. It wasn't even like she went out of her way to be terrible to him. She even appreciated how much Mike had been there for her the past few months.
Not that she would admit it out loud.
For his part, Mike seemed totally accepting of whatever thing the two of them had going on at the moment. Santana's eyes glided to her right as she glanced at the football player. He grinned happily at her as he shuffled the duffle bag higher on his Letterman jacket.
A hand traced at her own lightly. It took a few seconds before Santana realized just whose hand was holding hers. In the middle of the halls. Where everyone was bustling to leave the school.
She bristled up, dropped his hand, and stopped cold in her tracks. Mike slowed to a stop in front of her.
"What the hell do you think you are doing?" Santana growled out.
Mike gave a confused glance at Santana's duffle bag and then looked back at the fuming cheerleader.
"Um... Is this a trick question?"
Santana growled again and grabbed Mike by the strap of her bag to drag him into the nearest room. Some Cheerios looked at the pair as they stumbled into the locker room, but they had seen any number of football players come through those doors, especially with Santana, to really pay it much mind. They simply gathered their things to get out of her way and let the hot tempered Latina throw Mike into a bank of lockers.
Mike wiggled a bit against the metal of the lockers and dropped the heavy duffle bag to the ground. Santana felt no remorse for Mike over the shock of being slammed into the metal wall. She simply glared at the lanky boy.
"We aren't dating. Sex isn't dating," she insisted.
The Asian boy raised his hands slightly in surrender.
"Um okay. I don't remember saying we were dating, but okay."
"We don't do shit like hold hands and walk together to class," Santana barreled onward.
Mike frowned slightly, his brow wrinkling in confusion.
"Okay, what is this really about Santana?"
Santana crossed her arms across her chest and shifted uncomfortably in front of Mike. He always gave her this lingering feeling of guilt whenever they were together for her actions.
"There is a social hierarchy in this place..."
"Are you kidding me?" Mike nearly shouted. "Even if that was something that remotely mattered, I'm still a football player. That's like the top of your dumb pyramid."
"Yeah, but you are in Glee Club," Santana shot back.
"You are too!"
"There is a definitely a difference between me and you."
"Oh really? 'Cause lately I really haven't been seeing that."
Santana scoffed at him as if it was totally obvious.
"There is a difference. I'm Santana-Fucking-Lopez. Everyone knows that I'm at the top in this school. But you... not even football can save you from the sub-classification of geek."
Mike stared back at the cheerleader in shock. His hands clenched slightly at his sides and if Santana didn't know any better she would have thought that he was going to throw a punch at her. But this was Mike. The guy was like a helpless puppy. A helpless puppy she had kicked around a little bit just now, but still.
"I'm not saying we are dating," Mike started off slowly, "but these past few months together... I just thought that maybe something had gotten through that tough girl exterior of yours just a little bit, you know? Maybe get past that ridiculous idea you seem to have that whatever bitch-mode you are projecting for everyone to see is unnecessary."
Santana shifted awkwardly again and held herself a little tighter. She scuffed her white trainer against the ground, picking at a spot on the locker room floor in an attempt to not look up at Mike's disappointed face.
"Maybe then you wouldn't be so lonely," Mike spat out.
His words hung in the air of the locker room. A few giggles drifted towards them from the Cheerios who were gradually making their way back to the exit. They stopped briefly to wave at Mike before heading out the door. One poked her head back into the locker room and gave a final smile to the football player.
"See you at the party tomorrow night?" she asked shyly.
"Definitely," Mike replied stoically, never taking his eyes away from Santana. "Say 'hi' to everyone for me okay?"
The girl giggled again and waved before disappearing into the throng of Cheerios. Santana finally looked up at Mike and tried to narrow her eyes threateningly again.
He stepped forward off the lockers and placed his hands gently on her shoulders. Santana moved to shrug him away, but he simply held her tighter.
"Like it or not Santana, you need me. Much more than I need you."
With that he pushed her bag toward her with the tip of his shoe and walked towards the door.
"Maybe you should think about that for a second instead of your precious social hierarchy."
The door swung shut with a thud and once more it was silent in the locker room.
=
=
Santana glanced over at the boy next to her. He was still curled in on himself with his long legs propped up on the chair in front of him. A small frown tugged on his face and she felt that familiar wave of guilt she usually felt around Mike. The Asian was far more likely to be grinning his obnoxiously cheery grin than frowning. That was her thing. It didn't suit him and that fact only made Santana feel worse.
She glanced down at the front of the room once more and saw Artie attempting to roll his wheelchair around Brittany in some sort of dance. She smiled brightly back at him, perfectly content.
Happy. Without her.
Santana's palm itched again.
Fuck.
This was the worst kind of day.
"Hey Chang!" Puck called up from his position on the floor. "We need your slick moves down here pronto. Stop sulking with Little Miss Darkness up there."
Mike glanced cautiously to his left, gauging Santana's reaction. Santana glared balefully back and Mike shrugged. He kicked his feet off the chair in front of him and stood up.
As he took his first step out towards the floor a hand jetted out and grabbed his own.
He turned slowly to stare at the small Latina as she clutched his hand, looking at everything in the room except him. A steady smile spread out on his face and he felt her squeeze his hand tighter.
"Come on," he whispered. "Let's dance."
He tugged her lightly to her feet and slipped his fingers into that comfortable space in between hers. Santana glanced quickly at the laughing blonde on the floor below them before staring up into Mike Chang's bright smile. Her fingers brushed against his slim, familiar ones.
Santana felt the lingering touch of Brittany brush off her, drifting away for the last time as Mike dragged her slowly towards the choir room floor.
It was hard to put a word on her relationship with Mike Chang really, but she was fairly certain she knew what it was now.
Acceptance.
Pairing: Mike/Santana, some Brittany/Santana, Brittany/Mike
Rating: R (mostly due to Santana's foul mouth)
Summary: Santana finds out she has a lot more in common with Mike Chang than she originally thought.
Spoilers: Season 2? Not totally following series canon. Brittany and Artie get together, but Mike never gets with Tina. It doesn't have to make sense, just run with it.
Word Count: 5,484
Can't Always Get What We Want (But Sometimes We Get What We Need)
Settle.
It was really the word that came to mind when Santana thought of her current relationship. It wasn't like she really wanted to be in it per say, but come on. A girl has needs. Plus, not that she would EVER admit it out loud, but sometimes she just liked having someone there. You know. So she wasn't lonely.
Not that Santana-Fucking-Lopez was ever lonely.
Although if she was, that sort of comfort might be nice. But she didn't ever kid herself. This wasn't where she wanted to be. Who she wanted to be sitting beside.
And she knew it was the same for him.
Slim fingers, but not the ones she craved, curled around her wrist as a hand slid down into hers. Santana slowly lowered her eyes, hoping that when she saw the hand in her own it would be the perfect pale compliment to her tanned tone. A tiny breath escaped her as she took in the sight of caramel skin blending with hers.
"Hey. What's up? You've been staring at the same piece of linoleum for the past five minutes," he murmured calmly.
Santana took in his voice, his hand playing casually with her own, and let everything click into place once more. She was in Glee. People were watching. He wasn't her.
She snapped her head up and her hand away from the boy and put on her well practiced bitch face.
"So you've been doing what? Perving on me for five minutes? Fuck off, Chang."
Mike rolled his eyes and gave the Latina his typically unimpressed look. He settled back in his chair next to Santana's and left his hand dangling between their seats, practically willing her to take it back into her lap. The cheerleader snorted at the thought. She didn't do handholding. Not with him at least. At the thought her eyes drifted toward the front of the room where the other Glee kids were preparing some sort of possible musical number for Sectionals. Frankly it didn't really matter to Santana; they seemed to change songs for the competition faster than Quinn went through baby daddies.
Her eyes glanced over to where Kurt and Mercedes seemed to be looking through swatches of fabric, probably planning the outlandish outfits they would be wearing. Finn and Sam seemed to be doing some sort of male bonding ritual, one Santana really couldn't care less about. Quinn, Tina, and Rachel all seemed preoccupied as they danced around Puck, brandishing his guitar, to practice their vocals. Her eyes watched the carefree girls longer than the rest, if only to avoid glancing at the part of the room she so desperately wanted to see.
Against her bidding she slowly turned her gaze down towards the piano. Artie leaned over the bench to brush some of the ivory keys, letting the light sound fill up the choir room with Puck's guitar. Blonde hair whipped through the air as she twirled past her boyfriend's wheelchair.
Santana's hand instinctively clenched in her lap, suddenly feeling very empty.
A ragged breath escaped from the boy slouched next to her. She momentarily tore her eyes away from the giggling blonde to look at her partner in misery. Mike's eyes stayed locked on Brittany as she spiraled across the front of the room. Santana watched quietly as his eyes narrowed slightly in longing, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Normally this would be the moment that she would pounce; any moment of weakness was something that needed to exploited to its full potential. Anything to reinforce that there was only one HBIC in this school (no matter what Quinn seemed to think lately).
Instead she shifted awkwardly on her chair.
Mike's stare was something that was all too familiar to her. After all, it had been mirrored on her own face just moments earlier.
It was an endless cycle really. Brittany would smile and dance. Santana would find her heart clench and her abdomen fill with that familiar warmth at her happiness. Brittany would go share her warm grin with her boyfriend. Santana would be left alone with just her left hand as company for the night. The inevitable orgasm would bring the smirk back to her face. Brittany would see the happy expression Santana wore and smile in turn and dance happily. Rinse. Repeat.
She let out a sigh and closed her eyes.
"I guess I felt like things would be different by now," Santana murmured quietly.
The boy tensed slightly on the chair next to her.
"I think they could," he responded quietly. "If you let them."
Santana remained quiet and slouched forward in her seat, letting her head drop down into her waiting hands.
=
=
Fuck.
Santana watched angrily as Brittany entered the choir room with Artie, pushing his wheelchair with her typical face-splitting grin on her face. Something tightened in her chest at the sight, but she fought off the urge to dart to the front of the room and pull her away from him. It was her fault after all. If she hadn't said those things to the blonde then she wouldn't be in this awkward situation. It wasn't that she didn't care for Brittany. She did. Brittany knew that too. But there was a natural order of things in this school and public, pre-college experimentation simply didn't factor into that order.
Brittany leaned down and gently pressed her lips to Artie's.
Fuck.
Santana's hands clamped down on the sides of the chair in an effort to keep her fists from coming out swinging.
"I can honestly say that I never saw this one coming," a voice came from her side.
The Latina yanked her gaze upwards toward the offending voice to see the last person she expected to reach out to her. Mike Chang simply returned her glare with his usual warm stare before claiming the chair to her right.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean, Chang?" Santana bit out.
He stayed quiet for a minute and continued watching Brittany's flirtations with her new man. Santana felt her chest tighten again at the sight and the silence.
"I honestly always thought it would be you up there," Mike finally admitted quietly.
Santana's body went rigid as the comment hit her.
"Excuse you. Just cause I dance on a football field with Elton John over there doesn't mean that I'm a queer too."
Mike raised an eyebrow at her in an unimpressed fashion. The Latina felt a flush rise up through her neck. Whether it was from rage or embarrassment, she wasn't even sure.
"People may think that I'm just here to interject a well-timed pop and lock session, but I'm still a part of this group you know? I see things. So say whatever you want Lopez, but I've noticed the way you look at her. "
Fuck.
Santana's fingers curled even more around the edge of her chair, knuckles turning white. Her body thrummed with the need to just lash out. Punch Chang. Trip Berry. Grab Brittany and never let go. Something.
"It's okay you know."
Mike shifted his chair a little closer to her own. It seemed impossible for her to get any tenser at this point. A sad grin spread across the Asian's face as he leaned conspiratorially towards her. Santana felt the urge to punch him once again, but held off as her muscles seemed to be too clenched to even begin to follow her bidding.
"You aren't the only one who watches her like that," he said quietly.
Brittany let out a loud bark of laughter as she fell gracefully into Artie's lap. The tinkling of the piano was cut short and replaced with the tinkling of her happy giggles.
Santana squeezed her eyes shut again. Her mouth drifted open as she searched for something to say, anything to say, to take her mind off the sight of the two of them burned into the back of her mind. Any other day and she would have slushied herself for even considering talking to the Asian boy. Sure he was a football player, but cool he was not.
"Well at least she is happy right?" Santana mumbled.
"Yeah. I guess..."
They continued to sit in silence, Matt watching the new couple flirt sadly while Santana tried to mentally block out the sound of Brittany's clear laughter.
Fuck today was terrible.
"You could be happy too, you know," came the quiet voice again.
Santana snorted at the ridiculous statement. She cracked open her eyes and glared at the Asian next to her.
"You have got to be kidding me. We were seriously almost having a fucking moment here, bonding or some shit over our misfortune, and you are gonna ruin that with a terrible come on? Seriously Chang?"
He rolled his eyes and leaned forward in his chair to be closer to the cheerleader.
"Look, you are obviously lonely. I'm lonely. Like it or not, right now Brittany is a hell of a lot happier without you. And I never really stood a chance in the first place. I'm not saying we have to have sex or fall in love or anything. All I'm offering is some company. Misery loves that, right?"
The brunette cheerleader just turned her focus back to the front of the room and watched as her best friend stood up again and resumed her eclectic dance across the choir room floor. Brittany stretched her legs up in a high kick with complete disregard for how short the Cheerios skirts truly were. Santana crossed her legs unconsciously.
"I could have had her and I fucked it up," Santana said quietly as her eyes traced Brittany's lithe figure.
She unexpectedly jolted forward in her seat as a fist knocked against her shoulder playfully. The cheerleader turned to Mike and fixed him with one of her best glares. Moment or not, no one just jocked around with her like that. Especially not Gumby boy.
"'It is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all,'" Mike said sagely with a smirk.
Santana threw her classic glare at Mike once again.
"So now not only you are Mr. Sensitive, you're like Shakespeare or some shit? Fuck off, Chang," Santana snapped back.
The happy grin never left the boy's face. Santana regarded him through narrowed eyes. Whatever. He had a point. They both had nothing to really lose at this point. And it wasn't like she was dating him or something. Just... keeping him company. It was mutually beneficial.
She let out a sigh and nudged his shoulder with her own, ignoring the way his smile seemed to grow even better at the sign of her acquiescence.
"I wouldn't want you to get lonely or anything," she mumbled.
A hand reached out and grabbed her own. Santana stiffened once more at the contact. Mike Chang remained quiet, choosing not to accidentally rile up the Latina again, and slid his fingers between her own.
Santana's eyes drifted shut. Mike's thin fingers played casually with her own and tears built at the edge of her eyelids at the memory of another dancer's hands interlaced with her own. Brittany's laugh rang out in the room once again and the fingers danced across her palm.
And Santana drifted.
=
=
Santana raised her head out of her hands as the memory faded out of her mind. As she summoned the courage to look at the front of the room once again she could see Brittany scampering across the floor in some bizarre dance step. Was the girl ever not dancing? It drove Santana crazy in more ways than one.
Suddenly her hand itched with that empty feeling once again.
She looked out of the corner of her eye to where Mike was silently appraising Brittany's dance skills. Her eyes trailed down his thin limb to where his hand dangled between their chairs. Waiting.
With a gruff sigh Santana dipped her hand down and scooped up his hand, the warmth quickly calming the tingling in her own. Mike jerked slightly at the unexpected contact, but recovered quickly with his usual calm smile.
"Don't make too much of it Chang. It's just been a bad day," Santana grunted.
Mike nodded and watched the short Cheerios skirt twirl around Brittany's thighs, knowing that the Latina was staring at exactly the same sight.
"I feel ya," he commiserated.
Santana had to admit that it wasn't as bad as it used to be back when Artie and Brittany had first started dating. Those days had been a blur of repression and angry slushies thrown on undeserving freshmen just so she could feel less weak. Lately it had been a little better. Mike's tanned fingers squirmed slightly in between her own as he brushed his thumb over the back of her hand.
Okay maybe more than a little better.
But there were still days like this one where everything seemed to hit her all over again. Santana let her eyes flutter shut again. Mike's fingers curled in hers and Brittany started to sing. The brunette tried to focus on the deep tone of her friend's voice and the feel of Mike's touch. In her mind's eye she pictured the blonde curled up on the chair next to her, leaning in, cradling her hand. It was her fingers that were tracing her wrist carefully, as if the wrong movement would set her off like an angry bull.
Except that the fingers were just a little bit too wide. The nails a little bit too blunt. The palm a little bit too muscular.
With a ragged breath Santana opened her eyes again and stared down at her lap. Two tanned hands clutching each other like it was the only thing that mattered in the world.
Brittany's touch faded once again out of her mind. Just as it had been for the past several months, growing more and more distant.
"Some days are definitely worse than others," the Latina murmured as she clutched her lifeline.
=
=
Santana's jaw clenched as she watched Brittany's skirt swish as she turned the corner of the hallway and out of sight with Artie. The Glee meeting had been an absolute nightmare at lunch. It started out innocently enough with an improvised musical number as always, but it quickly grew out of hand. Her blonde friend had grabbed her hand and pulled her into a dance while Mercedes crooned out whatever R&B number she had picked out that week. Normally this would have been cause for celebration; a way to enjoy her touch as Brittany's hands traced little patterns underneath the corners of Santana's Cheerio's top, swaying her body closer.
But Santana wasn't the one she was leaving with when the bell rang.
She tore her eyes away from the blank stretch of hallway where the annoyingly happy couple had disappeared and back to her locker. Fuck this day. Brittany couldn't just dance with her like that and then leave. Santana leaned her head forward against the cool metal of the locker in an attempt to cool down her decidedly overheated body.
It certainly didn't help that she hadn't gotten laid in several weeks.
Not for lack of offers though. Puck had been texting her multiple times a day on the hopes that she would finally get out of her funk enough to consider a quickie with him. Plus as a Cheerio she had half the football, basketball, and hockey teams at her beck and call. It just didn't seem right though. Her desire to run off with men for no-strings-attached fun was one of the factors that got her into this position in the first place. If Brittany wanted to punish her by running off with wheels for a few weeks that was fine.
But goddamn she was horny.
Santana tore open her locker and slammed her bag into it, not caring about the attention her rage drew from the sparse students in the hallways. She slammed the locker shut when she was done, gaining a sick amount of joy from the way the metallic clang echoed throughout the school.
"I'm not sure if the locker really deserved that," the annoying deep voice commented behind her.
"Bite me, Chang. God, do you just trail me in the shadows or something?" Santana growled out in response.
The lanky boy leaned up on the lockers next to her.
"Rough day, huh?"
"You have no fucking clue..." Santana trailed off as she rubbed at the crease that was rapidly growing between her eyebrows.
"Brittany danced with me right after you. I think I have some idea."
Santana nodded slowly at that. So they were both in the same boat. Again.
"Hey," Mike whispered. "Come here."
His slim fingers grasped her hand in what was now a very familiar motion. Santana couldn't help but feel his warmth radiate through her as it always did. Mike simply tugged at her again and lead her down the now empty corridors and to an out of the way corner of the school. He slowly opened the door to the hidden room and slipped inside, pulling Santana with him.
She knew this room well. The janitor's closet in this hall was a particular favorite of hers for when the school day seemed just a little bit too long. She'd used it multiple times with Puck (and Brittany), but she never would have pegged innocent, fluffy Mike Chang for having known about this key location.
"And how exactly do you know about the Room of Requirements here, Chang?" Santana questioned with an arch of her perfect eyebrow.
"You aren't exactly subtle, you know," said Mike with a chuckle. "More than once I've seen you disappear here after Glee with Puck or Brittany. Or on that one occasion both. You always seem a lot happier and less off-with-their-heads when you leave."
Santana huffed.
"You have no idea."
"Again, I think I do," Mike said as he pushed her up against the wall. "Why do you keep insisting otherwise?"
The cheerleader bristled and narrowed her eyes instinctively. Mike just smiled his usual sugar-coated grin. Without any preamble he dropped his head down to the shorter girl and pressed his lips lightly against Santana's, stopping any bitchy comments she might have been intending to throw out at him cold.
It was soft, but insistent, immediately cutting out any correlations between this janitor's closet and her experiences with Puck. It was almost as if she was in Mr. Kidney's space with her other partner in crime.
Santana's eyes drifted closed as Mike's hands ghosted her hips, tracing the same areas Brittany had just a few minutes before. Warmth soaked in from his hands and lit the familiar fire inside her once again. Punishment be dammed; she needed this. A moan slipped out from her lips before being swallowed up by Mike. He pulled back slightly and nudged her chin, forcing Santana to look him in the eyes.
"Misery loves company remember?" he said quietly.
"You are seriously ruining this by talking, Chang."
"You think I want to hear your voice bitching at me either?" he bit back.
The brunette leaned calmly against the wall as she regarded the tall Asian boy. He returned her questioning look just as steadily.
"You were thinking of her too," she stated.
Mike glanced to the side, guilt flashing over his face. Santana felt the fire flickering slightly inside of her and knew that she had to fix this soon or else she would be left once again with just the pictures of Brittany in her room and her memories for her Friday night fix.
She reached out and cuffed Mike's shoulder. He glanced back at her warily.
"As long as we both admit that we are thinking of her I don't give a fuck. It's not about us. It's about her."
Mike nodded tentatively, clearly a bit nervous by what they were about to do. Santana rolled her eyes and pushed off the wall towards him. She grabbed his hands and forced them back to her hips before reaching up to loop her arms around his neck. With a tug she pulled him back down towards her.
"You are so fucking bad at this," she growled as she closed the space between them.
Her teeth nipped at his lip, making him open his mouth in shock. Santana shoved her tongue into his mouth at the opportunity and she could feel his hands tighten around her skirt in response. She deepened the kiss, feeling the warmth seep back into her frame.
Thin, careful fingers splayed up under her top. Santana sighed as she thought about all the times the blonde had taken her inside this janitor's closet. Brittany would always venture up Santana's shirt first, eager to play with her new assets that she had acquired over the summer vacation. Mike's cautious explorations with his tongue faded into the blonde's tender kisses.
Suddenly Santana could feel all the warmth inside her shooting south. And apparently Mike could too.
"Urgh. You do realize it's going to be a lot fucking easier for you to pretend I'm her than it will be for me?"
Mike pulled away from the Latina with a dazed look.
"What?"
"Your dick is poking me. While that would normally be a non-issue, I'm finding myself so not turned on right now."
Mike stared back at her in confusion.
"Um... What do you expect me to do about that? It's kind of an inevitability when doing this isn't it?"
"It's not fucking fair," Santana grunted.
"Fair? When has fair ever been a word to define what we are?"
Santana glared back at Mike. He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze before sighing in exasperation.
"Fine."
With a dancer's grace he pulled her hand and twirled him closer to him, bringing her back up against his front. He angled his hips away from her to make sure the growing bulge in his pants was not in contact with Santana's behind.
His hand reached down and grasped the apex between her legs roughly, making all the heat inside of Santana focus once again. Her breath escaped her shakily. Such a bold move was unexpected of Chang, that was for sure. Not many people would switch from compliant to dominating so quickly.
Only her.
"Happy now?" he grumbled into the shell of her ear.
Santana continued to breathe deeply, gathering her bearings. Her eyes darted to the corner of the small closet. She quickly leaned forward and flicked the switch there, plunging the room into darkness.
"Okay. Now," she whispered.
=
=
"Is this one of the worst kind of days?" Mike asked with a quizzical raised eyebrow.
Santana smirked at him.
"As much as I wish I could say it was, I don't think Mr. Kidney was too happy after the last time."
Mike grinned back and Santana could have sworn she had seen a bit of red rush to his cheeks. Despite all the 'misery parties' they had held all over the school the boy still managed to blush. It was kind of cute.
Kind of.
A flash of blue and black caught her eye as Tina leaned forward across the chairs in front of them to grab her water bottle. Her gaze dipped down and caught on their clasped hands. Santana could see her mouth open to make some sort of comment and instantaneously de-laced her fingers from Mike's.
"Hey Gothika," Santana snapped pointedly in the other girl's face to draw her attention. "Can I help you with something?"
Tina froze on the spot like a small woodland creature, shaking her head energetically. The Latina raised her eyebrows in a clear sign of dismissal. The other girl clutched her water bottle close and scrambled over the backs of the chairs to rejoin the other girls up front.
"I don't know why you have to keep doing that."
Santana flexed her hand, noticing the lack of comforting warmth once more. She glanced over at Mike to see that he had drawn his arms around himself, tucking his hands into his sides where they would be unreachable to her. The cheerleader growled slightly, but made no motion towards him.
It wasn't like Santana liked to hold hands. Fuck no. Only bitches like Quinn and her Ken doll did that sort of lame thing.
Her arms wrapped around herself defensively and she scowled.
"Keep doing what? Acting socially acceptable?"
Mike just rolled his eyes at her. The argument would be pointless.
And he never won.
=
=
Santana shuffled down the hall with her heavy Cheerios duffle over her shoulder. The strap slipped down slightly, causing her to falter in her strides. She let out a growl of frustration and tried to hike the bag back up her shoulder before being stopped by a tan hand.
Mike leaned into her side and shifted the bag from her shoulder to his with ease. Santana blinked warily at him before continuing to stalk down the hallway towards the exit. The Asian trotted up to her side silently. It was almost a sort of understanding they had reached. The less Mike talked the less Santana lashed out at him. It wasn't even like she went out of her way to be terrible to him. She even appreciated how much Mike had been there for her the past few months.
Not that she would admit it out loud.
For his part, Mike seemed totally accepting of whatever thing the two of them had going on at the moment. Santana's eyes glided to her right as she glanced at the football player. He grinned happily at her as he shuffled the duffle bag higher on his Letterman jacket.
A hand traced at her own lightly. It took a few seconds before Santana realized just whose hand was holding hers. In the middle of the halls. Where everyone was bustling to leave the school.
She bristled up, dropped his hand, and stopped cold in her tracks. Mike slowed to a stop in front of her.
"What the hell do you think you are doing?" Santana growled out.
Mike gave a confused glance at Santana's duffle bag and then looked back at the fuming cheerleader.
"Um... Is this a trick question?"
Santana growled again and grabbed Mike by the strap of her bag to drag him into the nearest room. Some Cheerios looked at the pair as they stumbled into the locker room, but they had seen any number of football players come through those doors, especially with Santana, to really pay it much mind. They simply gathered their things to get out of her way and let the hot tempered Latina throw Mike into a bank of lockers.
Mike wiggled a bit against the metal of the lockers and dropped the heavy duffle bag to the ground. Santana felt no remorse for Mike over the shock of being slammed into the metal wall. She simply glared at the lanky boy.
"We aren't dating. Sex isn't dating," she insisted.
The Asian boy raised his hands slightly in surrender.
"Um okay. I don't remember saying we were dating, but okay."
"We don't do shit like hold hands and walk together to class," Santana barreled onward.
Mike frowned slightly, his brow wrinkling in confusion.
"Okay, what is this really about Santana?"
Santana crossed her arms across her chest and shifted uncomfortably in front of Mike. He always gave her this lingering feeling of guilt whenever they were together for her actions.
"There is a social hierarchy in this place..."
"Are you kidding me?" Mike nearly shouted. "Even if that was something that remotely mattered, I'm still a football player. That's like the top of your dumb pyramid."
"Yeah, but you are in Glee Club," Santana shot back.
"You are too!"
"There is a definitely a difference between me and you."
"Oh really? 'Cause lately I really haven't been seeing that."
Santana scoffed at him as if it was totally obvious.
"There is a difference. I'm Santana-Fucking-Lopez. Everyone knows that I'm at the top in this school. But you... not even football can save you from the sub-classification of geek."
Mike stared back at the cheerleader in shock. His hands clenched slightly at his sides and if Santana didn't know any better she would have thought that he was going to throw a punch at her. But this was Mike. The guy was like a helpless puppy. A helpless puppy she had kicked around a little bit just now, but still.
"I'm not saying we are dating," Mike started off slowly, "but these past few months together... I just thought that maybe something had gotten through that tough girl exterior of yours just a little bit, you know? Maybe get past that ridiculous idea you seem to have that whatever bitch-mode you are projecting for everyone to see is unnecessary."
Santana shifted awkwardly again and held herself a little tighter. She scuffed her white trainer against the ground, picking at a spot on the locker room floor in an attempt to not look up at Mike's disappointed face.
"Maybe then you wouldn't be so lonely," Mike spat out.
His words hung in the air of the locker room. A few giggles drifted towards them from the Cheerios who were gradually making their way back to the exit. They stopped briefly to wave at Mike before heading out the door. One poked her head back into the locker room and gave a final smile to the football player.
"See you at the party tomorrow night?" she asked shyly.
"Definitely," Mike replied stoically, never taking his eyes away from Santana. "Say 'hi' to everyone for me okay?"
The girl giggled again and waved before disappearing into the throng of Cheerios. Santana finally looked up at Mike and tried to narrow her eyes threateningly again.
He stepped forward off the lockers and placed his hands gently on her shoulders. Santana moved to shrug him away, but he simply held her tighter.
"Like it or not Santana, you need me. Much more than I need you."
With that he pushed her bag toward her with the tip of his shoe and walked towards the door.
"Maybe you should think about that for a second instead of your precious social hierarchy."
The door swung shut with a thud and once more it was silent in the locker room.
=
=
Santana glanced over at the boy next to her. He was still curled in on himself with his long legs propped up on the chair in front of him. A small frown tugged on his face and she felt that familiar wave of guilt she usually felt around Mike. The Asian was far more likely to be grinning his obnoxiously cheery grin than frowning. That was her thing. It didn't suit him and that fact only made Santana feel worse.
She glanced down at the front of the room once more and saw Artie attempting to roll his wheelchair around Brittany in some sort of dance. She smiled brightly back at him, perfectly content.
Happy. Without her.
Santana's palm itched again.
Fuck.
This was the worst kind of day.
"Hey Chang!" Puck called up from his position on the floor. "We need your slick moves down here pronto. Stop sulking with Little Miss Darkness up there."
Mike glanced cautiously to his left, gauging Santana's reaction. Santana glared balefully back and Mike shrugged. He kicked his feet off the chair in front of him and stood up.
As he took his first step out towards the floor a hand jetted out and grabbed his own.
He turned slowly to stare at the small Latina as she clutched his hand, looking at everything in the room except him. A steady smile spread out on his face and he felt her squeeze his hand tighter.
"Come on," he whispered. "Let's dance."
He tugged her lightly to her feet and slipped his fingers into that comfortable space in between hers. Santana glanced quickly at the laughing blonde on the floor below them before staring up into Mike Chang's bright smile. Her fingers brushed against his slim, familiar ones.
Santana felt the lingering touch of Brittany brush off her, drifting away for the last time as Mike dragged her slowly towards the choir room floor.
It was hard to put a word on her relationship with Mike Chang really, but she was fairly certain she knew what it was now.
Acceptance.