fic: Worrisome to Watch
Okay, so I was going to wait to post until I'd finished this damn series, but I'm stuck and then I started a Bechloe/Faberry cross, which I already put up, so I thought I'd at least put up what I have and hope it motivates me to finish. Thanks again for the patience, if you're still reading this.
Title: Worrisome to Watch
Author: slacker_d
Pairing/Characters: Rachel/Santana, Puck, Quinn, Brittany/Marisa, Mike/Wendy, Sue
Rating: light R for language
Summary: This time when Santana participates in a Chess Boxing Tournament, she has more of a familiar audience.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Word Count: ~6,450
Spoilers: specific references to It Went Swimmingly and That Went Well
A/N: Follows Letting the Cat Out of the Bag. For the anon who requested more chess boxing way back in chapter 30.
2nd A/N: Unbeta’ed, so all mistakes are mine.
series masterlist
"Lopez, whatever you're doing Friday night has changed."
"It has?"
"Yep," Puck nods. "You're entering another chess boxing match."
"I am?"
Puck nods again. "Hell yeah, bad ass."
"Fine, but Rach said she wanted to come with the next time."
"Really?"
Santana nods.
"Cool. The more, the merrier," Puck replies. "I figured miss non violence wouldn't approve."
Santana shrugs. "You'll have to ask her."
"All right. Later, Lopez."
…
"You talk to Puck today?" Santana asks Rachel when she finds her between second and third.
"No," Rachel replies. "But I did get a text from him that said you were looking for me. Which I found odd."
"Figures," Santana grumbles. "Well I do need to talk to you."
"Oh?"
"You remember last year when I won a chess boxing match?"
"You mean when you let Quinn think I beat you?" Rachel asks.
"Right. That. Uh, well before that, you said that if I ever went again, you'd want to come."
"I did," Rachel nods.
"Well Puck says there's one on Friday and that we're going. You in?"
"Absolutely."
"Cool," Santana says. "See you at lunch?"
Rachel nods, kisses Santana lightly and skips off to her next class.
…
"Rachy says you're boxing again this weekend," Brittany says as she sits next to Santana at lunch.
Santana nods.
"Can I come? And maybe Marisa?"
"Marisa wants to come?"
Brittany shrugs. "But if she wants to, I want her to have the option."
"You want who to have what option?" Quinn asks, sitting across from Brittany.
"Hi Quinn. Want to come cheer on Santana this weekend?"
"For what?"
"Chess boxing."
"Didn't you do one of those last year?" Quinn asks.
"I did," Santana nods.
"Sounds interesting," Quinn says. "I'm in."
"Wait a minute," Santana interjects. "I never said I wanted an entourage."
"You deserve one," Brittany says.
"Deserve what?" Mike asks, sitting next to Quinn.
"An entourage," Quinn answers.
"Because she's going to kick ass this weekend at chess boxing."
"Seriously?" Mike exclaims. "That sounds awesome. Count me in."
"What? No," Santana says.
"Why not?" Mike asks.
"Yeah," Brittany adds. "Don't you want our support?" she asks, pouting.
"Not fair, B," Santana tells her. "No pouting."
"But it gets me what I want," Brittany protests.
"Personally, I think it'd be fun," Rachel says, sitting on Santana's other side.
"You do?"
Rachel nods. "Noah said you were pretty awesome last time. Everyone should get to see."
"I don't know."
Rachel wraps her hands around Santana's arm and leans in, blinking pleadingly, "Please, tiger?"
Santana sighs as she closes her eyes. It's so not fair that her best friend and her girlfriend are using pouting to get their way. How is she supposed to resist that?
"Fine. But if this turns into some sort of weird glee excursion--"
"It won't," Rachel assures her.
"Yeah," Brittany adds. "We're done talking about it. Right guys?"
Mike nods.
"Whatever," Quinn says.
"All right then. I guess you guys can be my entourage," Santana tells them.
"Yay," Brittany exclaims quietly.
…
Thursday morning, Rachel has only taken one step inside McKinley when Becky is at her side.
“Good morning, Becky,” Rachel greets. “Are you here for you or Coach Sylvester?”
“She wants to see you,” Becky replies. “Said I should grab you the minute you step foot inside.”
“Mission accomplished,” Rachel says. “Lead the way, then.”
Becky nods and they walk the rest of the way without talking. When they reach Coach Sylvester’s office, Becky knocks twice and then opens it. She beckons Rachel to follow her. Rachel does and takes a seat as she waits for Coach Sylvester to acknowledge her.
“Berry,” Coach Sylvester says, looking up from her journal. “I wanted to talk to you about your girl.”
“All right.”
“I overheard Britt and Q talking about Lopez boxing again this weekend.”
“Okay.”
“We’re not going to have a repeat of last time, are we?”
“I hope not,” Rachel replies.
“Because I don’t need that kind of drama right now,” Coach Sylvester continues.
“Well, it’s sort of become a group excursion,” Rachel explains. “Me, Britt, Quinn, Mike. We’re all going with to cheer San on. So there shouldn’t be any confusion about where her injuries are from.”
“You’re really all going just to watch Lopez box?”
“It’s not just boxing,” Rachel says. “Did San ever explain it?”
“She did not.”
“Well, apparently it’s actually chess and boxing. You play chess than you box. Then repeat until there’s a winner on the chess board or in the ring.”
“You don’t say.”
“Uh huh,” Rachel replies. “Apparently last year, she beat three different guys to win.”
“I knew there was a reason I liked her,” Coach Sylvester nods. “Do you know where it’s at?”
“No,” Rachel says. “Apparently it’s kind of an underground thing. Noah’s the only one that knows where it’s at.”
“All right. Well, as long as there won’t be any issues next week.”
“Not related to that,” Rachel replies.
“You’re free to go then, Berry.”
Rachel stands, bows slightly with a smirk on her face and exits.
…
“Becky,” Coach Sylvester says once Rachel has exited the office. “I need you to find out as much information about this chess boxing thing that’s happening this weekend.”
“Of course, Coach.”
“Good. Good. Preferably by lunch tomorrow.”
“Okay, Coach.”
…
Friday night, everyone meets at Rachel's. Since there are eight of them, they're taking two vehicles, Puck's and Mike's. Rachel, Santana and Puck squeeze into his truck, while Mike follows with Wendy, Quinn, Brittany and Marisa.
"This is the weirdest field trip ever," Quinn grumbles from the backseat.
"You're just mad you have to sit in the back," Brittany says, next to her.
"Because I'm always in the backseat."
"At least no one's sitting on your lap," Marisa says.
"You can sit up front if you really want, Quinn," Wendy says.
"No she can't," Mike says.
"What? Why not?"
"My car," Mike replies. "I get to say who sits where."
"Jeez, you're worse than Berry," Quinn tells him.
"Thanks," Mike smirks.
…
Meanwhile, in the truck, each of the three occupants are doing their best to distract themselves from their nervousness. Santana is nervous for obvious reasons. Rachel is nervous for Santana; because she wants her to win, but knows seeing her hurt will be difficult. While Puck is worried that the entire outing will end badly; he's not worried about Santana, because he's confident that she'll win.
Each is dealing with it in their own way. Puck has turned up the music as loud as Rachel will allow and the two of them are singing along. Because singing always seems to help Rachel relax. Santana, on the other hand, has her hand intertwined with Rachel's and has no intention of letting go until she has to.
This is how the three of them spend the seventy-five minute drive.
…
When Puck pulls up and parks next to an abandoned warehouse, no one wants to get out of Mike's car.
"Trust Puckerman to take us to the set of a horror movie," Quinn says.
"I don't know what you guys are so worried about," Marisa says the middle seat. "Between Rachel and Santana…and even, uh, you, Quinn, no one's going to mess with us."
Mike chuckles.
"You're not insulted that she didn't include you?" Wendy asks.
Mike shakes his head. "Naw, but Puck would be." He undoes his seatbelt. "C'mon guys. They're waiting and we don’t want to piss off Santana."
"That's for damn sure," Quinn says, slowly getting out of the car.
"You really know how to pick 'em," Mike tells Puck.
Puck shrugs. "I just go where the action is."
When the reach the door of the building, Puck knocks in code.
"Secret knocks, really?" Quinn scoffs.
"Was that morose code?" Brittany asks.
Everyone follows Puck through a maze of darkness and corner until they come to a card table. Behind it sits a balding middle aged guy in a flannel shirt. On the table is a clipboard, a stack of paper and a cash box.
"Name?" he asks.
"Santana Lopez," Puck replies.
He consults the clipboard. "Mmm. Right. Previous winner. Your entry fee is waved as long as you still have your ticket…"
Santana produces a small red piece of paper and hands it over.
"Excellent." He makes a couple notes on his clipboard. "Through those doors. Same as before, I'm sure."
Santana nods and leads the group through the double doors.
"All right, this is where we split up," Puck says. He points to the bleachers against one wall. "You guys have a seat. I'll coach Lopez through this."
"How long until it starts?" Marisa asks.
"Uh, a half hour, I think," he replies.
As Mike, Wendy, Marisa, Brittany and Quinn find seats, Rachel pushes Santana up against the closest wall and kisses her had, pressing her entire body against her and letting her knee slip between Santana's legs.
It goes on long enough that Puck starts clearing his throat. He finally grabs Rachel but the shoulder and pulls them apart.
"That was for good luck," Rachel smirks. She leans in. "Win and I'll do whatever you want later, tiger."
Still trying to catch her breath, Santana nods.
"All right, bro," Puck says. "That's enough."
"Incentive, Noah."
"Distraction, Rach."
"I'll see you after, babe?"
Rachel nods and skips to join the others on the bleachers.
…
"The constant eye sex wasn’t enough for you, Berry?" Quinn asks as Rachel sits next to her in the bleachers.
"I just wanted to wish her luck," Rachel replies. "Despite my stance on violence, I can't help but find this whole situation a bit of a turn on."
"Ahhh! I don't need to hear that," Quinn growls.
Rachel just smirks. Like everyone else, she lets her eyes wander around the room, trying to take it all in. After a few moments, she sees what she was looking for.
"I need to go take care of something," she says, jumping up.
"Bathroom?" Wendy asks. "Because I don't think that's a good idea, here."
"Not the bathroom. I should be back momentarily."
And before anyone can respond, she's hopping down the bleachers and disappearing into the crowd.
…
Once Rachel leaves, Puck and Santana head over to the registration table to sign in. They hand her a number, 3, ask her height and weight, before placing her in the bracket. Just like before, there are seven other contenders. The only difference is every one of them has participated in at least other chess boxing match. Santana tries not to let that worry her. Instead, she and Puck find a quiet corner she can warm up in.
…
His name is supposedly Jon. He's dressed in a leather jacket, jeans and sunglasses.
"Hey there, little lady," he greets.
"You're Jon?"
"I am," he nods.
"I need to place two separate bets, please."
"Of course." He pulls out a small notebook. "Go ahead."
"Um, one on Santana Lopez to win and I want to put down five hundred dollars."
"All right." He makes a couple notes. "Just so you know, her odds are 10 to 1." When Rachel just nods, he makes a few more notes and then rips out a sheet of paper. "Your receipt."
"Thanks," Rachel says, accepting the piece of paper.
"And the other?"
"One hundred dollars for Santana Lopez to win," Rachel replies.
Jon raises an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything as he scribbles in his notebook. After a moment, he hands over the other piece of paper and then holds out his hand.
Rachel hands over thirty twenty dollar bills. Jon counts it twice and then nods.
As Rachel's turning around to return to her seat, she runs into someone in a navy tracksuit.
"Coach Sylvester!"
"Berry."
"You're here."
"I am," she replies. "Placing a bet, actually."
"How much?" Jon asks.
"A thousand. On Santana Lopez winning it all."
"She's a popular girl tonight," Jon says, writing in his notebook.
"I'd ask if you want to join us, Coach," Rachel says. "But I already know the answer."
"If you were just with B, maybe," Coach Sylvester replies. "But I'm pretty sure my appearance would make Kory's head explode."
"Quinn's too."
"I'm not so sure about Fabray, actually," Coach Sylvester says. "But either way."
"Well, then perhaps I'll see you after."
Coach Sylvester chuckles, shaking her head. "Only you could make it sound like we're just at a tea party, Berry."
Rachel smirks, half shrugs and then disappears back into the crowd.
…
Rachel's thankful that Santana is up first. She knows she'll be sitting through a number of matches tonight, but waiting for Santana's matches is going to be the most difficult part; even more than watching Santana get hurt. It's usually the waiting that's Rachel's problem.
"Nervous?" Mike asks, leaning in to be heard.
Rachel's nods.
"Are you going to be able to watch this?"
Rachel nods again.
"But speaking seems to be out of the question?"
Rachel nods once more.
"All right then." Mike leans away from Rachel and whispers something in Wendy's ear. After a moment, she glances over at Rachel and nods. Mike leans back to Rachel and wraps his arm around her. "It'll be okay, Rach."
"Thanks," Rachel tells him, leaning into him as the first round of chess ends and the first round of boxing begins.
…
Santana is shocked when she wins her first match by knockout. Her opponent is taller than Puck and all muscle. He does all right on the chessboard, but Santana figures he won with brute force and just enough chess knowledge to get through two rounds.
But a lucky punch at the beginning of the second round of boxing takes him down. He doesn't get up in time and Santana is declared the winner.
…
Three more matches and then Santana is up again. She's up against a guy that reminds Rachel a little of Mike. The guy's obviously in good shape, but she'd never peg him as a boxer. And from his first round match, Rachel is pretty sure he isn't. He won very quickly in the second round of chess.
Santana's strategy seems to be beating him during the boxing rounds. It doesn't help that he seems to quite adept at dodging her punches. There's a lot more dancing during the boxing round than everyone has seen this evening. It seems pretty clear that this match is going to be won on the chess board.
It happens in the seventh round of chess, when the audience is beginning to wonder if the match is ever going to end. Check is called and Rachel feels her hopes drop. She knows that check doesn't mean it's automatically over, but it does put Santana in a tough spot.
Except, Santana doesn't seem upset. Instead, she's grinning like a maniac. She moves a piece and when her opponent makes his move, he doesn't repeat check, like everyone is expecting. And then Santana makes her move, she says, "Checkmate."
A hush falls over the crowd as the ref approaches the board. He examines it for a moment before grabbing Santana's arm and declaring her the winner.
…
The other semi final round is arduous to watch. It's brutal and harsh, while still being an extreme mental challenge on the chess board. There's a screen showing what's happening in the ring and Rachel is impressed with the speed that they both play.
She worries about Santana. She knows her girlfriend hates to lose and that she'll throw herself completely into the final match. Rachel just hopes that it ends okay.
…
"All right, Lopez," Puck says as they wait for the bell to ring. "You fucking got this."
Santana nods.
"You're the biggest badass I know. And so fucking awesome that I don't mind handing over that title."
"If you ever had it," Santana replies.
"It's debatable," Puck says. "But you're going to go out there and kick his ass in the ring and on the board. Because you won't let yourself do anything less."
Santana nods again.
"Plus, Rach is out there. You gotta win it for your girl."
Santana rolls her eyes, but nods.
"Right then. Go out there and show him who's boss."
…
The last round is tense. Even though everyone's seen Santana take on two other opponents, seeing her in the ring with a six foot three, two-hundred fifty pound man is startling. Rachel tries to remember why she wanted to see this.
"You okay?" Mike whispers, his arm still around her.
"I don't know."
"She'll be fine, you know," Mike replies. "She's Santana fucking Lopez."
"I know," Rachel says. "But I still…"
"I know," Mike tells her.
…
The final match is long. Santana may be outmatched physically, but she can still hold her own. She dodges a lot and tries to get in punches that will do real damage.
The chess is different. Santana brushed up on her chess playing as soon as Puck told her about the match, but she has a feeling this guy, Darren, has been honing his skills a bit longer. Still, she's not going to go down without a fight and so she tries the circular tease that she used last time.
It seems to work because in the sixth round of chess, he makes a fatal mistake that allows Santana to take his queen and leave him nearly defenseless. But then the noise defenders are pulled off and they're boxing again.
Knowing she just has to make it to the next round of chess gives Santana enough energy to survive. She even manages to get in two excellent face hits that she hopes rattle his brain a bit.
When they sit down for another round of chess, Santana finds it surprisingly easy to settle into, what she hopes is, the final round. Darren doesn't have that many places to go and it shows in his moves. Santana chases him down and earns a checkmate.
The ref examines the board for a few moments before declaring Santana the winner.
…
The moment Santana is declared the winner Rachel is off the bleachers and running to the ring.
"You don't want to hug me, babe," Santana says, climbing out. "I mean, look."
Rachel ignores this and gently wraps her arms around her girlfriend. "You were amazing--are amazing."
Despite the pain, she knows is coming, Santana tightens her arms around Rachel and lets herself sink into the embrace. Nothing else matters.
"You also scared the shit out of me," Rachel adds. "But I knew you could do it."
"Thanks babe."
"Hey guys," Puck says. "If you want to shower, Lopez, better go now."
"Figures," Santana says, taking a step back. "I'll be quick." She accepts the backpack from Puck and heads into the locker room.
Puck hands Rachel a towel. "You have a little blood on your cheek."
"Oh." Rachel wipes her left cheek. "Didn't even notice."
"Our girl came through," Puck says.
Rachel nods. She hands Puck a piece of paper. "Should we? While we're waiting?"
Puck nods and the two disappear into the crowd.
…
"Just when you think you've seen everything," Mike says, still sitting in the bleachers, looking down at the ring.
"Seeing the violent and the cerebral in the same small space is rather unique," Marisa says.
"Oh. Yeah, that too."
"What were you referring to?" Quinn asks.
Mike points to Rachel embracing the bruised, battered, blood and sweat covered Santana. When Santana pulls away, they can all see the blood she left on Rachel. Oddly, Rachel doesn't seem to notice.
"Rachy loves Santana," Brittany says.
"We know, Britt," Quinn replies. "It's just unexpected."
"No it's not," Brittany says. "If you think that then, you don't know."
"What?"
"That Rachel loves Santana."
No one responds as they watch Rachel chat with Puck.
"You're awfully quiet," Mike says to Wendy.
"I, uh, was just thinking," Wendy replies.
"Oh?"
"I really need to talk to Missy tomorrow," Wendy says.
"About?"
"Make sure she knows that Santana's one to mess with. I mean, did we just watch the same thing? You're all acting so fucking causal about this. If she can win a damn chess boxing tournament, then she can do anything. Mis needs to know not the mess with her. I'd hate for Santana to bury her under the football field or something."
"I already knew that," Brittany says.
…
"So now what?" Puck asks as they stand between his truck and Mike's car.
"Considering the fact that it's almost one in the morning," Rachel says. "I suggest home."
"Yeah, the pain is starting to kick in," Santana adds.
"Price of being a badass, S," Quinn says.
"Thanks for letting us come, San," Brittany says. "You're so fucking hot when you're kicking ass."
Wendy stares at Brittany as Marisa elbows her.
"What? It's true."
"Doesn't mean you need to say it out loud," Marisa grumbles.
"Call you later, B," Santana says before slowly climbing into the truck.
Mike unlocks his car and Brittany, Marisa and Quinn crawl into the back as Wendy sits in front. He, then, has to speed out of the parking lot after Puck.
"Figures that he'd forget that you need to follow him back to Lima," Quinn says.
"Not to mention, everyone's cars are still at Rachel's," Marisa adds.
"Rachel probably already reminded him," Mike replies. "See?"
Everyone stares as Puck slows down to a more follow-able speed.
"Berry," Quinn huffs, shaking her head.
…
At Rachel's house, everyone gets into their cars and heads home. Puck helps a reluctant Santana up the stairs and into Rachel's room.
"I'm not an invalid," she grouses.
"You are injured," Rachel points out.
"I'll heal," Santana replies.
"See you guys Monday," Puck says.
"Thanks for your help, Noah," Rachel tells him.
“Totally worth it, bro,” he replies. He knows he’s probably going to get hit for saying it, but he can’t help it; it’s been too great of night. “B’s right. Your girl is so fucking hot when she’s kicking ass.”
Thankfully, Rachel just smirks. “I know.”
He half hugs her, relieved she’s not mad before thundering down the stairs and back out to his truck.
…
“Do you need anything?” Rachel asks as she shuts her bedroom door.
“Just you, babe,” Santana says quietly, her face half pressed into a pillow.
“I wish we could get you some pain pills,” Rachel replies as she changes into her pajamas.
“Me too. Guess Ibuprofen will just have to do.”
“And taking it easy for a while,” Rachel adds.
“As much as Coach will let me I suppose.”
Considering that Coach Sylvester is now ten thousand dollars richer thanks to Santana, Rachel hopes that maybe Santana will be given a break, for a few days anyway. But knowing that Santana never saw Coach Sylvester there, Rachel says, “I’ll talk to her on Monday. I bet she’ll go easy on you for the week.”
“Ha! That’ll be the day.”
“She likes me,” Rachel says, slipping into bed. “It can’t hurt to ask.”
“And then have her accuse me of hiding behind your insanely short skirts?”
“My skirts are an appropriate length,” Rachel retorts. “And so what if she does? That doesn’t mean she won’t agree.”
“I’m pretty sure it does, babe.”
“Fine,” Rachel sighs. “We can argue about it tomorrow.”
“Goody,” Santana grumbles as Rachel turns off the light.
…
Saturday morning, Rachel wakes up first. For once, Santana is lying fully atop Rachel. Usually they end up spooning with Santana as the big spoon because Rachel’s far too short to ever be considered the big anything. Despite being annoyed at another height joke, Rachel feels like there’s something sweet and Santana like in that statement. But that doesn’t stop her from arguing every time Santana says it.
However, because of her injuries, Santana found sleeping on her stomach to be the least painful. Apparently, most of her bruises don’t bother her when she’s lying on Rachel. Santana had quipped that Rachel is like a healing balm, chuckling to herself and then making herself wince at the action. Rachel had just shook her head, despite lying in bed and let Santana maneuver herself into a position of comfort.
But now in the early Saturday morning light, Rachel wonders if it’s possible to escape her bed without waking Santana. She really feels the need to work out, but Santana definitely needs her rest. Rachel’s hoping that if her girlfriend rests all day and tomorrow, she might not feel so horrible at school on Monday.
Rachel dresses quietly for quick jog outside. Yes, it’s January in Lima, but she doesn’t want to wake Santana with her elliptical and for whatever reason, she really feels the need to exercise this morning. So after lacing up her sneakers, she jots a quick note to Santana on a post it and sticks it next to the bottle of water and ibuprofen sitting on the night stand next to Santana. And then she quickly heads downstairs and out into the early morning cold.
…
Santana wakes up alone and sore. Turning slightly to see the time, tells her it's just after eight. She hears the shower running and lets out a sigh of relief. It's not that she's upset that she didn't get to wake up with Rachel, it's just she'd been hoping for some pampering because of her injuries. However, Santana's pretty sure that Rachel didn't expect her to be awake quite yet.
And as the pain begins to fully register, Santana begins to wish she was still asleep. She rolls over, groaning and swallows the several ibuprofen followed with many swigs of water. She lets herself collapse back onto the bed and tries to drift back to sleep.
…
When Santana wakes up again, it’s to the smell of coffee. Opening her eyes reveal that Rachel is stretched out next to her reading. There’s a half drunk mug of coffee on the nightstand next to Rachel. Santana watches her take a careful sip and set the mug back down before turning a page in The Metamorphosis.
“Morning,” Santana croaks, still wary of the pain.
“Hey tiger,” Rachel smiles. “Want some coffee?”
“Maybe in a bit.”
“Ibuprofen?”
“Definitely.”
Rachel hands Santana the pills and helps her sit up enough to drink some water. Santana then lies back down, her head now on Rachel’s lap.
“I figured you needed the rest,” Rachel answers Santana’s unasked question. “Sleep is supposed to be excellent medicine.”
“Yeah, I know. It was last time too.” Santana sighs. “But I don’t want to spend the whole weekend sleeping.”
“I assumed as much,” Rachel replies. “Which is why we’re going to stay in bed until we have to head over to your house for dinner tomorrow night. I picked up a couple movies and maybe we can order some take out later.”
“You know what my suggestion for staying in bed activities are, don’t you?”
Rachel smirks. “And normally they’d be mine too, San. But I don’t want to hurt you. Let’s give you at least twenty-four hours.”
“It’s fine,” Santana insists. “As long as I don’t do anything too strenuous.”
“Um… Are we talking about the same thing here?” Rachel questions. “Or are you just insinuating that I should do all the work?”
Santana smirks. “I’ve earned it.”
“Oh please,” Rachel scoffs. “Just because you ended up victorious in a situation few thought you’d succeed in, doesn’t mean you’ve earned it. You make it sound like you won a great battle.”
“I did.”
“You know what I mean.”
“So that’s a no to sex?” Santana pouts.
“Until tomorrow anyway.”
“This is so not how to reward the conquering hero,” Santana grumbles.
…
Despite Santana’s grumbling, they do have a great day together. Lately it feels to Rachel that they don’t really have that much time to just sit around and be; just be Rachel and Santana. She knows senior year is meant to be chaotic, which just adds to the busy schedules that both she and Santana have and though she’d probably only ever admit it to Santana, and then only if pushed, but she’s been feeling a bit overwhelmed lately. Even though it’s only been a couple weeks since winter break ended.
Or maybe, Rachel thinks, watching Santana argue with the TV, it’s something else. Recently, Rachel’s found herself gazing at Santana more and more. She blames it on her silly romantic notions, which some days is at war with her more pragmatic side. Though she wants to ignore them, she can’t, since her Broadway dreams are wrapped up in her romantic side. However, her pragmatic side is what has allowed her to survive in Lima this long.
And they’ve been in constant conflict for the last few months. With the end of their time in Lima looming, Rachel has debating if this relationship between her and Santana will last through college. Though they’ve applied to colleges near each other, that is certainly no guarantee; not to mention that both their college plans involve them both being extremely busy.
The pragmatic side of her is screaming that the relationship has to end before they leave Lima, while the romantic side argues that love conquers all and anything that’s thrown at them, they’ll be able to handle as long as they’re together. She’s still not sure which side to listen to.
…
“Are you going to tell your parents?”
Santana glances over at Rachel as she drives towards her house for Sunday night dinner.
“I don’t know,” Santana replies quietly, expecting a reprimand.
“What did you do last time?” Rachel asks instead.
“Blamed it on Cheerios and used a lot of cover up.”
“Oh.”
“They were still pretty wary of pissing me off still then, which made it easier,” Santana continues. “So lying probably isn’t an option this time.”
“What about just not saying anything at all?” Rachel suggests.
Santana looks over at her in surprise; she definitely didn’t expect that. “What? Why? How?”
“I just hate for them to worry,” Rachel says. “And so maybe if we don’t mention it, it can be more like a lack of sharing than a bold faced lie. And you’ve manage to cover up all your bruises. Maybe they’ll just assume the soreness is from something sexually related.”
Santana is shocked to feel herself blushing. “And you’re okay with that?”
Rachel shrugs. “As long as I don’t think about it too much, yes.” She shudders. “Or think about them thinking about it.”
Santana actually feels nauseous. “Was that really necessary?”
“No,” Rachel replies. “And I regret even thinking it.”
Santana pulls into her driveway and shuts off her car.
“I’ll follow your lead, tiger,” Rachel tells her. “However you want to do this is fine with me.”
“Thanks babe.”
…
Rachel wonders what it says about her that one of her favorite things about her relationship with Tomás is how he likes to tweak Santana about Rachel being his favorite. She thinks it’s the knowing smirk he wears whenever his daughter isn’t looking at him. Plus, it’s nice to have a sort of inside joke with someone. It makes her feel less alone; well, most things about the Lopez family make her feel less alone.
Once they’re seated at the table and eating, they chit chat about the past week and Rachel tries not to feel guilty when Clara asks Santana if Coach Sylvester is being extra tyrannical this week.
“Uh…”
“You’re moving a bit slowly, dear,” Clara says.
“I guess she was a bit harsher,” Santana replies.
“I know you enjoy it Santana, darling,” Clara continues. “But sometimes I worry that you push yourself too hard.”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” Tomás asks. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you fell this week.”
“Yes, exactly,” Clara agrees. “Either that or you and… Never mind.”
“What?”
“It’s not important dear.”
Since Clara seems intent on staring at her food, Rachel assumes she’s come to the conclusion of vigorous sex as the reason Santana’s sore. She briefly wonders what Clara thinks they’re doing that would leave Santana sore enough to show, but leave Rachel walking normally. A shudder puts an end to that disturbing thought.
When everyone else falls silent, Tomás has no choice, but to do so as well.
After a few minutes of awkward silence, Rachel asks Tomás about work and conversation starts up again. Thankfully it lasts through the rest of dinner; but topics that could veer off into the uncomfortable are avoided.
“Why do I feel like I’m missing something here?” Tomás asks as Rachel jumps up to clear the table.
“Um…”
“Maybe it’d just be easier, if you girls just told us what you’re trying to hide.”
“We’re not-“
“Santana,” Clara warns.
Santana sighs. “Fine.” She stands and goes into the kitchen. They hear the water running and Santana returns, wiping her face with a paper towel. When she pulls it away, a black eye and a bruised jaw are apparent. She holds up her hand before her parents can ask. “Friday night I participated in a chess boxing tournament. Hence, my injuries. But on the upside, I won.”
No one says anything. After a moment, Clara stands and carefully hugs Santana.
“What were you thinking?” Clara asks once she’s pulled away. “You could have been seriously injured.”
“But I wasn’t,” Santana points out. “And I won two thousand dollars.”
Again no one speaks.
“I’m sorry, did you say chess boxing?” Tomás asks. “What is that?”
“It’s the most absurd thing on paper,” Rachel answers. “But it’s rather incredible to watch.”
“You play chess for two minutes and then you box for two minutes. You keep switching back and forth until someone wins on the chessboard or someone is knocked out.”
“And you won?” Tomás questions. “How many bouts did you have?”
“Three,” Santana answers. “There were eight participants, including me, and it was a three round bracket tournament.”
“Ten to one odds that she’d win,” Rachel adds. “Which I find unfair, considering she won the last time too.”
“Rach,” Santana hisses.
“Last time?” Clara asks.
“Oops.”
“You’ve done this before?”
Santana nods hesitantly at her mother.
Clara sighs. “I suppose I should be more surprised.”
“Whereas I couldn’t be prouder,” Tomás interjects. “Our little girl has it all; brains and brawn. And I’m willing to bet the opponents you were up against weren’t easy.”
“Definitely not,” Rachel answers. “It was rather worrisome to watch.”
“I can imagine.”
“Hey, I survived though,” Santana says, hating the pained look on Rachel’s face. “I survived and I kicked ass.”
“That’s my girl,” Tomás says, grinning. “Do I even want to know how you stumbled upon this whole thing? You didn’t go searching for it, did you?”
“Course not,” Santana replies. “Puck found it.”
“Of course,” Clara scoffs.
“Clara,” Rachel says. “I know Noah has some rather obvious negative qualities, but he does mean well. And he’s gotten better. I think.”
“Noah?” Tomás asks, looking amused.
“I refuse to acknowledge his ridiculous nickname, when he has such a nice first name,” Rachel replies.
Santana tries unsuccessfully to hold back laughter.
“I can’t believe he lets you call him that,” Clara says.
“Well my powers of persuasion are excellent,” Rachel replies.
“So I’m just supposed to be okay with this?” Clara asks Santana.
“Um, well, it’s not like it’s a regular thing,” Santana replies. “I mean, I doubt I’ll be doing it again anytime soon. And honestly, I’m not sure I want to. Yeah, it’s nice to have the extra money, but I don’t remember being this sore last time.”
“I think your opponents were more difficult this time,” Rachel says. “At least that’s what Noah said.”
“Gotta love that competitive nature,” Tomás adds. “It’s not just that you love to win, it’s that you hate to lose.”
Santana shrugs and then winces. “Pretty much.”
“Of course you would approve,” Clara chastises.
“Well, what’s done is done,” Tomás replies. “And I’m impressed. I can’t imagine it’s easy to switch mindsets so quickly and fluidly to actually be successful.”
“It’s not,” Santana agrees.
Clara sighs. “Just promise me you won’t be doing this again.”
“Um…” Santana shrugs and then winces again. “I can’t.”
“You can’t?”
“I don’t plan on it, but I don’t want to make a promise I might not keep.”
“Well I can appreciate that, at least,” Clara says.
…
“You think they’ll let the open door policy drop tonight?” Rachel asks. “Since you’re in no state to properly ravage me?”
“You can ask,” Santana replies. “But only if you ask exactly like that.”
“Then I will not be asking,” Rachel says as she settles into bed.
“Ah, come on, it’ll be fun,” Santana teases, sliding into bed next to Rachel.
“I think someone’s forgot the horrible awkwardness we experienced in the middle of dinner,” Rachel says as she and Santana try to find a comfortable position.
“The whole evening’s been sorta awkward,” Santana replies, finally settling on her stomach atop Rachel.
Rachel sighs contently as she wraps her arms around Santana. “Worth it.”
Snuggling into Rachel, Santana feels the same way. “Love you, babe.”
“You too, tiger.”
…
When Sue arrives in her office Monday morning, she’s surprised to find an envelope sitting on her computer. It reads, Coach Sylvester. She opens it, curious and cautious.
Coach,
Though I know it goes against your every instinct, could you please go easy on Santana for a couple days? She’s definitely still smarting from the match Friday night and I would really appreciate it if she could have an easy few days.
And no, this does not count as me calling in the favor you owe me. Considering that Santana’s victory earned you ten-thousand dollars, I feel like you owe this to her.
Thank you, Rachel Berry
Sue can’t help but smirk. Only Berry would have the cojones to ask such a thing; everyone knows that Sue doesn’t go easy on anyone for any reason. But Berry’s right, Sue is now ten-thousand dollars richer thanks to Lopez. And since she has such specific plans for the money, she supposes she could cut Lopez a little bit of slack for a few days.
Nonetheless, she burns Berry’s note; can’t have anyone finding any evidence of Sue’s niceness. Even just the mere fact that Berry would even dare to ask conveys weakness on Sue’s part. She doesn’t begrudge Berry for asking; she’d expect nothing less from Lopez’s girl. If anything, it just proves once again that Sue that she was right Berry being good for Lopez. But she's damn sure not going to let anyone else know that. She has a reputation to maintain after all.
Title: Worrisome to Watch
Author: slacker_d
Pairing/Characters: Rachel/Santana, Puck, Quinn, Brittany/Marisa, Mike/Wendy, Sue
Rating: light R for language
Summary: This time when Santana participates in a Chess Boxing Tournament, she has more of a familiar audience.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Word Count: ~6,450
Spoilers: specific references to It Went Swimmingly and That Went Well
A/N: Follows Letting the Cat Out of the Bag. For the anon who requested more chess boxing way back in chapter 30.
2nd A/N: Unbeta’ed, so all mistakes are mine.
series masterlist
"Lopez, whatever you're doing Friday night has changed."
"It has?"
"Yep," Puck nods. "You're entering another chess boxing match."
"I am?"
Puck nods again. "Hell yeah, bad ass."
"Fine, but Rach said she wanted to come with the next time."
"Really?"
Santana nods.
"Cool. The more, the merrier," Puck replies. "I figured miss non violence wouldn't approve."
Santana shrugs. "You'll have to ask her."
"All right. Later, Lopez."
…
"You talk to Puck today?" Santana asks Rachel when she finds her between second and third.
"No," Rachel replies. "But I did get a text from him that said you were looking for me. Which I found odd."
"Figures," Santana grumbles. "Well I do need to talk to you."
"Oh?"
"You remember last year when I won a chess boxing match?"
"You mean when you let Quinn think I beat you?" Rachel asks.
"Right. That. Uh, well before that, you said that if I ever went again, you'd want to come."
"I did," Rachel nods.
"Well Puck says there's one on Friday and that we're going. You in?"
"Absolutely."
"Cool," Santana says. "See you at lunch?"
Rachel nods, kisses Santana lightly and skips off to her next class.
…
"Rachy says you're boxing again this weekend," Brittany says as she sits next to Santana at lunch.
Santana nods.
"Can I come? And maybe Marisa?"
"Marisa wants to come?"
Brittany shrugs. "But if she wants to, I want her to have the option."
"You want who to have what option?" Quinn asks, sitting across from Brittany.
"Hi Quinn. Want to come cheer on Santana this weekend?"
"For what?"
"Chess boxing."
"Didn't you do one of those last year?" Quinn asks.
"I did," Santana nods.
"Sounds interesting," Quinn says. "I'm in."
"Wait a minute," Santana interjects. "I never said I wanted an entourage."
"You deserve one," Brittany says.
"Deserve what?" Mike asks, sitting next to Quinn.
"An entourage," Quinn answers.
"Because she's going to kick ass this weekend at chess boxing."
"Seriously?" Mike exclaims. "That sounds awesome. Count me in."
"What? No," Santana says.
"Why not?" Mike asks.
"Yeah," Brittany adds. "Don't you want our support?" she asks, pouting.
"Not fair, B," Santana tells her. "No pouting."
"But it gets me what I want," Brittany protests.
"Personally, I think it'd be fun," Rachel says, sitting on Santana's other side.
"You do?"
Rachel nods. "Noah said you were pretty awesome last time. Everyone should get to see."
"I don't know."
Rachel wraps her hands around Santana's arm and leans in, blinking pleadingly, "Please, tiger?"
Santana sighs as she closes her eyes. It's so not fair that her best friend and her girlfriend are using pouting to get their way. How is she supposed to resist that?
"Fine. But if this turns into some sort of weird glee excursion--"
"It won't," Rachel assures her.
"Yeah," Brittany adds. "We're done talking about it. Right guys?"
Mike nods.
"Whatever," Quinn says.
"All right then. I guess you guys can be my entourage," Santana tells them.
"Yay," Brittany exclaims quietly.
…
Thursday morning, Rachel has only taken one step inside McKinley when Becky is at her side.
“Good morning, Becky,” Rachel greets. “Are you here for you or Coach Sylvester?”
“She wants to see you,” Becky replies. “Said I should grab you the minute you step foot inside.”
“Mission accomplished,” Rachel says. “Lead the way, then.”
Becky nods and they walk the rest of the way without talking. When they reach Coach Sylvester’s office, Becky knocks twice and then opens it. She beckons Rachel to follow her. Rachel does and takes a seat as she waits for Coach Sylvester to acknowledge her.
“Berry,” Coach Sylvester says, looking up from her journal. “I wanted to talk to you about your girl.”
“All right.”
“I overheard Britt and Q talking about Lopez boxing again this weekend.”
“Okay.”
“We’re not going to have a repeat of last time, are we?”
“I hope not,” Rachel replies.
“Because I don’t need that kind of drama right now,” Coach Sylvester continues.
“Well, it’s sort of become a group excursion,” Rachel explains. “Me, Britt, Quinn, Mike. We’re all going with to cheer San on. So there shouldn’t be any confusion about where her injuries are from.”
“You’re really all going just to watch Lopez box?”
“It’s not just boxing,” Rachel says. “Did San ever explain it?”
“She did not.”
“Well, apparently it’s actually chess and boxing. You play chess than you box. Then repeat until there’s a winner on the chess board or in the ring.”
“You don’t say.”
“Uh huh,” Rachel replies. “Apparently last year, she beat three different guys to win.”
“I knew there was a reason I liked her,” Coach Sylvester nods. “Do you know where it’s at?”
“No,” Rachel says. “Apparently it’s kind of an underground thing. Noah’s the only one that knows where it’s at.”
“All right. Well, as long as there won’t be any issues next week.”
“Not related to that,” Rachel replies.
“You’re free to go then, Berry.”
Rachel stands, bows slightly with a smirk on her face and exits.
…
“Becky,” Coach Sylvester says once Rachel has exited the office. “I need you to find out as much information about this chess boxing thing that’s happening this weekend.”
“Of course, Coach.”
“Good. Good. Preferably by lunch tomorrow.”
“Okay, Coach.”
…
Friday night, everyone meets at Rachel's. Since there are eight of them, they're taking two vehicles, Puck's and Mike's. Rachel, Santana and Puck squeeze into his truck, while Mike follows with Wendy, Quinn, Brittany and Marisa.
"This is the weirdest field trip ever," Quinn grumbles from the backseat.
"You're just mad you have to sit in the back," Brittany says, next to her.
"Because I'm always in the backseat."
"At least no one's sitting on your lap," Marisa says.
"You can sit up front if you really want, Quinn," Wendy says.
"No she can't," Mike says.
"What? Why not?"
"My car," Mike replies. "I get to say who sits where."
"Jeez, you're worse than Berry," Quinn tells him.
"Thanks," Mike smirks.
…
Meanwhile, in the truck, each of the three occupants are doing their best to distract themselves from their nervousness. Santana is nervous for obvious reasons. Rachel is nervous for Santana; because she wants her to win, but knows seeing her hurt will be difficult. While Puck is worried that the entire outing will end badly; he's not worried about Santana, because he's confident that she'll win.
Each is dealing with it in their own way. Puck has turned up the music as loud as Rachel will allow and the two of them are singing along. Because singing always seems to help Rachel relax. Santana, on the other hand, has her hand intertwined with Rachel's and has no intention of letting go until she has to.
This is how the three of them spend the seventy-five minute drive.
…
When Puck pulls up and parks next to an abandoned warehouse, no one wants to get out of Mike's car.
"Trust Puckerman to take us to the set of a horror movie," Quinn says.
"I don't know what you guys are so worried about," Marisa says the middle seat. "Between Rachel and Santana…and even, uh, you, Quinn, no one's going to mess with us."
Mike chuckles.
"You're not insulted that she didn't include you?" Wendy asks.
Mike shakes his head. "Naw, but Puck would be." He undoes his seatbelt. "C'mon guys. They're waiting and we don’t want to piss off Santana."
"That's for damn sure," Quinn says, slowly getting out of the car.
"You really know how to pick 'em," Mike tells Puck.
Puck shrugs. "I just go where the action is."
When the reach the door of the building, Puck knocks in code.
"Secret knocks, really?" Quinn scoffs.
"Was that morose code?" Brittany asks.
Everyone follows Puck through a maze of darkness and corner until they come to a card table. Behind it sits a balding middle aged guy in a flannel shirt. On the table is a clipboard, a stack of paper and a cash box.
"Name?" he asks.
"Santana Lopez," Puck replies.
He consults the clipboard. "Mmm. Right. Previous winner. Your entry fee is waved as long as you still have your ticket…"
Santana produces a small red piece of paper and hands it over.
"Excellent." He makes a couple notes on his clipboard. "Through those doors. Same as before, I'm sure."
Santana nods and leads the group through the double doors.
"All right, this is where we split up," Puck says. He points to the bleachers against one wall. "You guys have a seat. I'll coach Lopez through this."
"How long until it starts?" Marisa asks.
"Uh, a half hour, I think," he replies.
As Mike, Wendy, Marisa, Brittany and Quinn find seats, Rachel pushes Santana up against the closest wall and kisses her had, pressing her entire body against her and letting her knee slip between Santana's legs.
It goes on long enough that Puck starts clearing his throat. He finally grabs Rachel but the shoulder and pulls them apart.
"That was for good luck," Rachel smirks. She leans in. "Win and I'll do whatever you want later, tiger."
Still trying to catch her breath, Santana nods.
"All right, bro," Puck says. "That's enough."
"Incentive, Noah."
"Distraction, Rach."
"I'll see you after, babe?"
Rachel nods and skips to join the others on the bleachers.
…
"The constant eye sex wasn’t enough for you, Berry?" Quinn asks as Rachel sits next to her in the bleachers.
"I just wanted to wish her luck," Rachel replies. "Despite my stance on violence, I can't help but find this whole situation a bit of a turn on."
"Ahhh! I don't need to hear that," Quinn growls.
Rachel just smirks. Like everyone else, she lets her eyes wander around the room, trying to take it all in. After a few moments, she sees what she was looking for.
"I need to go take care of something," she says, jumping up.
"Bathroom?" Wendy asks. "Because I don't think that's a good idea, here."
"Not the bathroom. I should be back momentarily."
And before anyone can respond, she's hopping down the bleachers and disappearing into the crowd.
…
Once Rachel leaves, Puck and Santana head over to the registration table to sign in. They hand her a number, 3, ask her height and weight, before placing her in the bracket. Just like before, there are seven other contenders. The only difference is every one of them has participated in at least other chess boxing match. Santana tries not to let that worry her. Instead, she and Puck find a quiet corner she can warm up in.
…
His name is supposedly Jon. He's dressed in a leather jacket, jeans and sunglasses.
"Hey there, little lady," he greets.
"You're Jon?"
"I am," he nods.
"I need to place two separate bets, please."
"Of course." He pulls out a small notebook. "Go ahead."
"Um, one on Santana Lopez to win and I want to put down five hundred dollars."
"All right." He makes a couple notes. "Just so you know, her odds are 10 to 1." When Rachel just nods, he makes a few more notes and then rips out a sheet of paper. "Your receipt."
"Thanks," Rachel says, accepting the piece of paper.
"And the other?"
"One hundred dollars for Santana Lopez to win," Rachel replies.
Jon raises an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything as he scribbles in his notebook. After a moment, he hands over the other piece of paper and then holds out his hand.
Rachel hands over thirty twenty dollar bills. Jon counts it twice and then nods.
As Rachel's turning around to return to her seat, she runs into someone in a navy tracksuit.
"Coach Sylvester!"
"Berry."
"You're here."
"I am," she replies. "Placing a bet, actually."
"How much?" Jon asks.
"A thousand. On Santana Lopez winning it all."
"She's a popular girl tonight," Jon says, writing in his notebook.
"I'd ask if you want to join us, Coach," Rachel says. "But I already know the answer."
"If you were just with B, maybe," Coach Sylvester replies. "But I'm pretty sure my appearance would make Kory's head explode."
"Quinn's too."
"I'm not so sure about Fabray, actually," Coach Sylvester says. "But either way."
"Well, then perhaps I'll see you after."
Coach Sylvester chuckles, shaking her head. "Only you could make it sound like we're just at a tea party, Berry."
Rachel smirks, half shrugs and then disappears back into the crowd.
…
Rachel's thankful that Santana is up first. She knows she'll be sitting through a number of matches tonight, but waiting for Santana's matches is going to be the most difficult part; even more than watching Santana get hurt. It's usually the waiting that's Rachel's problem.
"Nervous?" Mike asks, leaning in to be heard.
Rachel's nods.
"Are you going to be able to watch this?"
Rachel nods again.
"But speaking seems to be out of the question?"
Rachel nods once more.
"All right then." Mike leans away from Rachel and whispers something in Wendy's ear. After a moment, she glances over at Rachel and nods. Mike leans back to Rachel and wraps his arm around her. "It'll be okay, Rach."
"Thanks," Rachel tells him, leaning into him as the first round of chess ends and the first round of boxing begins.
…
Santana is shocked when she wins her first match by knockout. Her opponent is taller than Puck and all muscle. He does all right on the chessboard, but Santana figures he won with brute force and just enough chess knowledge to get through two rounds.
But a lucky punch at the beginning of the second round of boxing takes him down. He doesn't get up in time and Santana is declared the winner.
…
Three more matches and then Santana is up again. She's up against a guy that reminds Rachel a little of Mike. The guy's obviously in good shape, but she'd never peg him as a boxer. And from his first round match, Rachel is pretty sure he isn't. He won very quickly in the second round of chess.
Santana's strategy seems to be beating him during the boxing rounds. It doesn't help that he seems to quite adept at dodging her punches. There's a lot more dancing during the boxing round than everyone has seen this evening. It seems pretty clear that this match is going to be won on the chess board.
It happens in the seventh round of chess, when the audience is beginning to wonder if the match is ever going to end. Check is called and Rachel feels her hopes drop. She knows that check doesn't mean it's automatically over, but it does put Santana in a tough spot.
Except, Santana doesn't seem upset. Instead, she's grinning like a maniac. She moves a piece and when her opponent makes his move, he doesn't repeat check, like everyone is expecting. And then Santana makes her move, she says, "Checkmate."
A hush falls over the crowd as the ref approaches the board. He examines it for a moment before grabbing Santana's arm and declaring her the winner.
…
The other semi final round is arduous to watch. It's brutal and harsh, while still being an extreme mental challenge on the chess board. There's a screen showing what's happening in the ring and Rachel is impressed with the speed that they both play.
She worries about Santana. She knows her girlfriend hates to lose and that she'll throw herself completely into the final match. Rachel just hopes that it ends okay.
…
"All right, Lopez," Puck says as they wait for the bell to ring. "You fucking got this."
Santana nods.
"You're the biggest badass I know. And so fucking awesome that I don't mind handing over that title."
"If you ever had it," Santana replies.
"It's debatable," Puck says. "But you're going to go out there and kick his ass in the ring and on the board. Because you won't let yourself do anything less."
Santana nods again.
"Plus, Rach is out there. You gotta win it for your girl."
Santana rolls her eyes, but nods.
"Right then. Go out there and show him who's boss."
…
The last round is tense. Even though everyone's seen Santana take on two other opponents, seeing her in the ring with a six foot three, two-hundred fifty pound man is startling. Rachel tries to remember why she wanted to see this.
"You okay?" Mike whispers, his arm still around her.
"I don't know."
"She'll be fine, you know," Mike replies. "She's Santana fucking Lopez."
"I know," Rachel says. "But I still…"
"I know," Mike tells her.
…
The final match is long. Santana may be outmatched physically, but she can still hold her own. She dodges a lot and tries to get in punches that will do real damage.
The chess is different. Santana brushed up on her chess playing as soon as Puck told her about the match, but she has a feeling this guy, Darren, has been honing his skills a bit longer. Still, she's not going to go down without a fight and so she tries the circular tease that she used last time.
It seems to work because in the sixth round of chess, he makes a fatal mistake that allows Santana to take his queen and leave him nearly defenseless. But then the noise defenders are pulled off and they're boxing again.
Knowing she just has to make it to the next round of chess gives Santana enough energy to survive. She even manages to get in two excellent face hits that she hopes rattle his brain a bit.
When they sit down for another round of chess, Santana finds it surprisingly easy to settle into, what she hopes is, the final round. Darren doesn't have that many places to go and it shows in his moves. Santana chases him down and earns a checkmate.
The ref examines the board for a few moments before declaring Santana the winner.
…
The moment Santana is declared the winner Rachel is off the bleachers and running to the ring.
"You don't want to hug me, babe," Santana says, climbing out. "I mean, look."
Rachel ignores this and gently wraps her arms around her girlfriend. "You were amazing--are amazing."
Despite the pain, she knows is coming, Santana tightens her arms around Rachel and lets herself sink into the embrace. Nothing else matters.
"You also scared the shit out of me," Rachel adds. "But I knew you could do it."
"Thanks babe."
"Hey guys," Puck says. "If you want to shower, Lopez, better go now."
"Figures," Santana says, taking a step back. "I'll be quick." She accepts the backpack from Puck and heads into the locker room.
Puck hands Rachel a towel. "You have a little blood on your cheek."
"Oh." Rachel wipes her left cheek. "Didn't even notice."
"Our girl came through," Puck says.
Rachel nods. She hands Puck a piece of paper. "Should we? While we're waiting?"
Puck nods and the two disappear into the crowd.
…
"Just when you think you've seen everything," Mike says, still sitting in the bleachers, looking down at the ring.
"Seeing the violent and the cerebral in the same small space is rather unique," Marisa says.
"Oh. Yeah, that too."
"What were you referring to?" Quinn asks.
Mike points to Rachel embracing the bruised, battered, blood and sweat covered Santana. When Santana pulls away, they can all see the blood she left on Rachel. Oddly, Rachel doesn't seem to notice.
"Rachy loves Santana," Brittany says.
"We know, Britt," Quinn replies. "It's just unexpected."
"No it's not," Brittany says. "If you think that then, you don't know."
"What?"
"That Rachel loves Santana."
No one responds as they watch Rachel chat with Puck.
"You're awfully quiet," Mike says to Wendy.
"I, uh, was just thinking," Wendy replies.
"Oh?"
"I really need to talk to Missy tomorrow," Wendy says.
"About?"
"Make sure she knows that Santana's one to mess with. I mean, did we just watch the same thing? You're all acting so fucking causal about this. If she can win a damn chess boxing tournament, then she can do anything. Mis needs to know not the mess with her. I'd hate for Santana to bury her under the football field or something."
"I already knew that," Brittany says.
…
"So now what?" Puck asks as they stand between his truck and Mike's car.
"Considering the fact that it's almost one in the morning," Rachel says. "I suggest home."
"Yeah, the pain is starting to kick in," Santana adds.
"Price of being a badass, S," Quinn says.
"Thanks for letting us come, San," Brittany says. "You're so fucking hot when you're kicking ass."
Wendy stares at Brittany as Marisa elbows her.
"What? It's true."
"Doesn't mean you need to say it out loud," Marisa grumbles.
"Call you later, B," Santana says before slowly climbing into the truck.
Mike unlocks his car and Brittany, Marisa and Quinn crawl into the back as Wendy sits in front. He, then, has to speed out of the parking lot after Puck.
"Figures that he'd forget that you need to follow him back to Lima," Quinn says.
"Not to mention, everyone's cars are still at Rachel's," Marisa adds.
"Rachel probably already reminded him," Mike replies. "See?"
Everyone stares as Puck slows down to a more follow-able speed.
"Berry," Quinn huffs, shaking her head.
…
At Rachel's house, everyone gets into their cars and heads home. Puck helps a reluctant Santana up the stairs and into Rachel's room.
"I'm not an invalid," she grouses.
"You are injured," Rachel points out.
"I'll heal," Santana replies.
"See you guys Monday," Puck says.
"Thanks for your help, Noah," Rachel tells him.
“Totally worth it, bro,” he replies. He knows he’s probably going to get hit for saying it, but he can’t help it; it’s been too great of night. “B’s right. Your girl is so fucking hot when she’s kicking ass.”
Thankfully, Rachel just smirks. “I know.”
He half hugs her, relieved she’s not mad before thundering down the stairs and back out to his truck.
…
“Do you need anything?” Rachel asks as she shuts her bedroom door.
“Just you, babe,” Santana says quietly, her face half pressed into a pillow.
“I wish we could get you some pain pills,” Rachel replies as she changes into her pajamas.
“Me too. Guess Ibuprofen will just have to do.”
“And taking it easy for a while,” Rachel adds.
“As much as Coach will let me I suppose.”
Considering that Coach Sylvester is now ten thousand dollars richer thanks to Santana, Rachel hopes that maybe Santana will be given a break, for a few days anyway. But knowing that Santana never saw Coach Sylvester there, Rachel says, “I’ll talk to her on Monday. I bet she’ll go easy on you for the week.”
“Ha! That’ll be the day.”
“She likes me,” Rachel says, slipping into bed. “It can’t hurt to ask.”
“And then have her accuse me of hiding behind your insanely short skirts?”
“My skirts are an appropriate length,” Rachel retorts. “And so what if she does? That doesn’t mean she won’t agree.”
“I’m pretty sure it does, babe.”
“Fine,” Rachel sighs. “We can argue about it tomorrow.”
“Goody,” Santana grumbles as Rachel turns off the light.
…
Saturday morning, Rachel wakes up first. For once, Santana is lying fully atop Rachel. Usually they end up spooning with Santana as the big spoon because Rachel’s far too short to ever be considered the big anything. Despite being annoyed at another height joke, Rachel feels like there’s something sweet and Santana like in that statement. But that doesn’t stop her from arguing every time Santana says it.
However, because of her injuries, Santana found sleeping on her stomach to be the least painful. Apparently, most of her bruises don’t bother her when she’s lying on Rachel. Santana had quipped that Rachel is like a healing balm, chuckling to herself and then making herself wince at the action. Rachel had just shook her head, despite lying in bed and let Santana maneuver herself into a position of comfort.
But now in the early Saturday morning light, Rachel wonders if it’s possible to escape her bed without waking Santana. She really feels the need to work out, but Santana definitely needs her rest. Rachel’s hoping that if her girlfriend rests all day and tomorrow, she might not feel so horrible at school on Monday.
Rachel dresses quietly for quick jog outside. Yes, it’s January in Lima, but she doesn’t want to wake Santana with her elliptical and for whatever reason, she really feels the need to exercise this morning. So after lacing up her sneakers, she jots a quick note to Santana on a post it and sticks it next to the bottle of water and ibuprofen sitting on the night stand next to Santana. And then she quickly heads downstairs and out into the early morning cold.
…
Santana wakes up alone and sore. Turning slightly to see the time, tells her it's just after eight. She hears the shower running and lets out a sigh of relief. It's not that she's upset that she didn't get to wake up with Rachel, it's just she'd been hoping for some pampering because of her injuries. However, Santana's pretty sure that Rachel didn't expect her to be awake quite yet.
And as the pain begins to fully register, Santana begins to wish she was still asleep. She rolls over, groaning and swallows the several ibuprofen followed with many swigs of water. She lets herself collapse back onto the bed and tries to drift back to sleep.
…
When Santana wakes up again, it’s to the smell of coffee. Opening her eyes reveal that Rachel is stretched out next to her reading. There’s a half drunk mug of coffee on the nightstand next to Rachel. Santana watches her take a careful sip and set the mug back down before turning a page in The Metamorphosis.
“Morning,” Santana croaks, still wary of the pain.
“Hey tiger,” Rachel smiles. “Want some coffee?”
“Maybe in a bit.”
“Ibuprofen?”
“Definitely.”
Rachel hands Santana the pills and helps her sit up enough to drink some water. Santana then lies back down, her head now on Rachel’s lap.
“I figured you needed the rest,” Rachel answers Santana’s unasked question. “Sleep is supposed to be excellent medicine.”
“Yeah, I know. It was last time too.” Santana sighs. “But I don’t want to spend the whole weekend sleeping.”
“I assumed as much,” Rachel replies. “Which is why we’re going to stay in bed until we have to head over to your house for dinner tomorrow night. I picked up a couple movies and maybe we can order some take out later.”
“You know what my suggestion for staying in bed activities are, don’t you?”
Rachel smirks. “And normally they’d be mine too, San. But I don’t want to hurt you. Let’s give you at least twenty-four hours.”
“It’s fine,” Santana insists. “As long as I don’t do anything too strenuous.”
“Um… Are we talking about the same thing here?” Rachel questions. “Or are you just insinuating that I should do all the work?”
Santana smirks. “I’ve earned it.”
“Oh please,” Rachel scoffs. “Just because you ended up victorious in a situation few thought you’d succeed in, doesn’t mean you’ve earned it. You make it sound like you won a great battle.”
“I did.”
“You know what I mean.”
“So that’s a no to sex?” Santana pouts.
“Until tomorrow anyway.”
“This is so not how to reward the conquering hero,” Santana grumbles.
…
Despite Santana’s grumbling, they do have a great day together. Lately it feels to Rachel that they don’t really have that much time to just sit around and be; just be Rachel and Santana. She knows senior year is meant to be chaotic, which just adds to the busy schedules that both she and Santana have and though she’d probably only ever admit it to Santana, and then only if pushed, but she’s been feeling a bit overwhelmed lately. Even though it’s only been a couple weeks since winter break ended.
Or maybe, Rachel thinks, watching Santana argue with the TV, it’s something else. Recently, Rachel’s found herself gazing at Santana more and more. She blames it on her silly romantic notions, which some days is at war with her more pragmatic side. Though she wants to ignore them, she can’t, since her Broadway dreams are wrapped up in her romantic side. However, her pragmatic side is what has allowed her to survive in Lima this long.
And they’ve been in constant conflict for the last few months. With the end of their time in Lima looming, Rachel has debating if this relationship between her and Santana will last through college. Though they’ve applied to colleges near each other, that is certainly no guarantee; not to mention that both their college plans involve them both being extremely busy.
The pragmatic side of her is screaming that the relationship has to end before they leave Lima, while the romantic side argues that love conquers all and anything that’s thrown at them, they’ll be able to handle as long as they’re together. She’s still not sure which side to listen to.
…
“Are you going to tell your parents?”
Santana glances over at Rachel as she drives towards her house for Sunday night dinner.
“I don’t know,” Santana replies quietly, expecting a reprimand.
“What did you do last time?” Rachel asks instead.
“Blamed it on Cheerios and used a lot of cover up.”
“Oh.”
“They were still pretty wary of pissing me off still then, which made it easier,” Santana continues. “So lying probably isn’t an option this time.”
“What about just not saying anything at all?” Rachel suggests.
Santana looks over at her in surprise; she definitely didn’t expect that. “What? Why? How?”
“I just hate for them to worry,” Rachel says. “And so maybe if we don’t mention it, it can be more like a lack of sharing than a bold faced lie. And you’ve manage to cover up all your bruises. Maybe they’ll just assume the soreness is from something sexually related.”
Santana is shocked to feel herself blushing. “And you’re okay with that?”
Rachel shrugs. “As long as I don’t think about it too much, yes.” She shudders. “Or think about them thinking about it.”
Santana actually feels nauseous. “Was that really necessary?”
“No,” Rachel replies. “And I regret even thinking it.”
Santana pulls into her driveway and shuts off her car.
“I’ll follow your lead, tiger,” Rachel tells her. “However you want to do this is fine with me.”
“Thanks babe.”
…
Rachel wonders what it says about her that one of her favorite things about her relationship with Tomás is how he likes to tweak Santana about Rachel being his favorite. She thinks it’s the knowing smirk he wears whenever his daughter isn’t looking at him. Plus, it’s nice to have a sort of inside joke with someone. It makes her feel less alone; well, most things about the Lopez family make her feel less alone.
Once they’re seated at the table and eating, they chit chat about the past week and Rachel tries not to feel guilty when Clara asks Santana if Coach Sylvester is being extra tyrannical this week.
“Uh…”
“You’re moving a bit slowly, dear,” Clara says.
“I guess she was a bit harsher,” Santana replies.
“I know you enjoy it Santana, darling,” Clara continues. “But sometimes I worry that you push yourself too hard.”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” Tomás asks. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you fell this week.”
“Yes, exactly,” Clara agrees. “Either that or you and… Never mind.”
“What?”
“It’s not important dear.”
Since Clara seems intent on staring at her food, Rachel assumes she’s come to the conclusion of vigorous sex as the reason Santana’s sore. She briefly wonders what Clara thinks they’re doing that would leave Santana sore enough to show, but leave Rachel walking normally. A shudder puts an end to that disturbing thought.
When everyone else falls silent, Tomás has no choice, but to do so as well.
After a few minutes of awkward silence, Rachel asks Tomás about work and conversation starts up again. Thankfully it lasts through the rest of dinner; but topics that could veer off into the uncomfortable are avoided.
“Why do I feel like I’m missing something here?” Tomás asks as Rachel jumps up to clear the table.
“Um…”
“Maybe it’d just be easier, if you girls just told us what you’re trying to hide.”
“We’re not-“
“Santana,” Clara warns.
Santana sighs. “Fine.” She stands and goes into the kitchen. They hear the water running and Santana returns, wiping her face with a paper towel. When she pulls it away, a black eye and a bruised jaw are apparent. She holds up her hand before her parents can ask. “Friday night I participated in a chess boxing tournament. Hence, my injuries. But on the upside, I won.”
No one says anything. After a moment, Clara stands and carefully hugs Santana.
“What were you thinking?” Clara asks once she’s pulled away. “You could have been seriously injured.”
“But I wasn’t,” Santana points out. “And I won two thousand dollars.”
Again no one speaks.
“I’m sorry, did you say chess boxing?” Tomás asks. “What is that?”
“It’s the most absurd thing on paper,” Rachel answers. “But it’s rather incredible to watch.”
“You play chess for two minutes and then you box for two minutes. You keep switching back and forth until someone wins on the chessboard or someone is knocked out.”
“And you won?” Tomás questions. “How many bouts did you have?”
“Three,” Santana answers. “There were eight participants, including me, and it was a three round bracket tournament.”
“Ten to one odds that she’d win,” Rachel adds. “Which I find unfair, considering she won the last time too.”
“Rach,” Santana hisses.
“Last time?” Clara asks.
“Oops.”
“You’ve done this before?”
Santana nods hesitantly at her mother.
Clara sighs. “I suppose I should be more surprised.”
“Whereas I couldn’t be prouder,” Tomás interjects. “Our little girl has it all; brains and brawn. And I’m willing to bet the opponents you were up against weren’t easy.”
“Definitely not,” Rachel answers. “It was rather worrisome to watch.”
“I can imagine.”
“Hey, I survived though,” Santana says, hating the pained look on Rachel’s face. “I survived and I kicked ass.”
“That’s my girl,” Tomás says, grinning. “Do I even want to know how you stumbled upon this whole thing? You didn’t go searching for it, did you?”
“Course not,” Santana replies. “Puck found it.”
“Of course,” Clara scoffs.
“Clara,” Rachel says. “I know Noah has some rather obvious negative qualities, but he does mean well. And he’s gotten better. I think.”
“Noah?” Tomás asks, looking amused.
“I refuse to acknowledge his ridiculous nickname, when he has such a nice first name,” Rachel replies.
Santana tries unsuccessfully to hold back laughter.
“I can’t believe he lets you call him that,” Clara says.
“Well my powers of persuasion are excellent,” Rachel replies.
“So I’m just supposed to be okay with this?” Clara asks Santana.
“Um, well, it’s not like it’s a regular thing,” Santana replies. “I mean, I doubt I’ll be doing it again anytime soon. And honestly, I’m not sure I want to. Yeah, it’s nice to have the extra money, but I don’t remember being this sore last time.”
“I think your opponents were more difficult this time,” Rachel says. “At least that’s what Noah said.”
“Gotta love that competitive nature,” Tomás adds. “It’s not just that you love to win, it’s that you hate to lose.”
Santana shrugs and then winces. “Pretty much.”
“Of course you would approve,” Clara chastises.
“Well, what’s done is done,” Tomás replies. “And I’m impressed. I can’t imagine it’s easy to switch mindsets so quickly and fluidly to actually be successful.”
“It’s not,” Santana agrees.
Clara sighs. “Just promise me you won’t be doing this again.”
“Um…” Santana shrugs and then winces again. “I can’t.”
“You can’t?”
“I don’t plan on it, but I don’t want to make a promise I might not keep.”
“Well I can appreciate that, at least,” Clara says.
…
“You think they’ll let the open door policy drop tonight?” Rachel asks. “Since you’re in no state to properly ravage me?”
“You can ask,” Santana replies. “But only if you ask exactly like that.”
“Then I will not be asking,” Rachel says as she settles into bed.
“Ah, come on, it’ll be fun,” Santana teases, sliding into bed next to Rachel.
“I think someone’s forgot the horrible awkwardness we experienced in the middle of dinner,” Rachel says as she and Santana try to find a comfortable position.
“The whole evening’s been sorta awkward,” Santana replies, finally settling on her stomach atop Rachel.
Rachel sighs contently as she wraps her arms around Santana. “Worth it.”
Snuggling into Rachel, Santana feels the same way. “Love you, babe.”
“You too, tiger.”
…
When Sue arrives in her office Monday morning, she’s surprised to find an envelope sitting on her computer. It reads, Coach Sylvester. She opens it, curious and cautious.
Coach,
Though I know it goes against your every instinct, could you please go easy on Santana for a couple days? She’s definitely still smarting from the match Friday night and I would really appreciate it if she could have an easy few days.
And no, this does not count as me calling in the favor you owe me. Considering that Santana’s victory earned you ten-thousand dollars, I feel like you owe this to her.
Thank you, Rachel Berry
Sue can’t help but smirk. Only Berry would have the cojones to ask such a thing; everyone knows that Sue doesn’t go easy on anyone for any reason. But Berry’s right, Sue is now ten-thousand dollars richer thanks to Lopez. And since she has such specific plans for the money, she supposes she could cut Lopez a little bit of slack for a few days.
Nonetheless, she burns Berry’s note; can’t have anyone finding any evidence of Sue’s niceness. Even just the mere fact that Berry would even dare to ask conveys weakness on Sue’s part. She doesn’t begrudge Berry for asking; she’d expect nothing less from Lopez’s girl. If anything, it just proves once again that Sue that she was right Berry being good for Lopez. But she's damn sure not going to let anyone else know that. She has a reputation to maintain after all.