Apologies
Title: Apologies
Characters: Rachel, Santana, minor Brittany.
Rating: PG-13 (because Santana likes to swear)
Length: ~1,000
Summary: The aftermath of this. (Spoilers for 2x12 Silly Little Love Songs)
Author's Note: Just a little something to bust up all the angst.
There are nearly one thousand students at McKinley High School. Despite this fact, Santana Lopez isn't shocked when Rachel Berry is the one that steps into the auditorium after school where Santana is sitting on a piano bench, center stage, staring out into the empty seats. Quickly, Santana wipes the rogue tears from her eyes as small footsteps echo through the auditorium and finally stop to her left.
“Santana?”
“Here to tell me I'll end up a crack-addicted whore, now, Berry?”
“I would apologize for my earlier comment but I have yet to ever hear an apology for anything you've ever said or done to me.”
“I know I've been, like, a bitch to you or whatever but I've never said anything that bad.”
“It adds up over time.”
“Tell me about it,” Santana mumbles. The bench creaks and Rachel is sitting next to her; Santana feels the other girl's gaze on the side of her head.
“Forgive me for asking, but what could you possibly have to build up? You're popular.”
“Like you care.”
“I'll say to you what I said to Quinn last year: I don't hate you.”
Santana only shrugs.
“You let things get to you.”
“I'm not in the mood for this, Dr. Phil.”
“I'm sure you'd rather talk to Brittany.”
It's the way Rachel says it that makes Santana snap her head up to look at her. There was a tone of “I know something” in her voice. It isn't something she was willing to talk about but, apparently, Rachel is.
“I see the way you look at her.”
“I'm not talking about that.”
It stops the conversation for a little while. In the silence, something happens to Santana that's never really happened with anyone but Brittany. The urge to talk bubbles up in her chest and before she knows it, she's spilling everything.
“I never told Coach about the baby,” she starts. It gets Rachel's attention and she sits up straighter and folds her hands in her lap. “But I tell Q about my...summer surgery...and she rats me out. Like, what kind of bitch does that? And, like, I know everyone thinks I tried to bring down glee club or whatever but if I really wanted to then I would have, you know? I would've quit or whatever but I meant what I said, it's the best part of my day.”
“I stand by my belief in you, regarding that issue.”
“I know you're all pissed at me for sleeping with your 'man',” Santana emphasizes the word “man” with airquotes, because, really Finn Hudson is not even close, “but, seriously, he's the one that lied to you. I just didn't talk. He lied to your face, not me. Not even you deserve an asshole like that.”
“I'll take that as a compliment.”
There's more silence and Santana watches Rachel fidget with the hem of her skirt, biting her lower lip.
“I have goals and shit, you know?”
Rachel nods.
“I want to like, rule the world or something.”
“I believe you would be very well suited for politics.”
“Because I'm a bitch?”
“Because you're a very strong minded, stubborn person who is willing to fight for what she believes in.”
Santana snorts and before she can stop, it comes out. “I'm a coward. I can't even tell my best friend I'm in love with her.”
“You're not a coward,” Rachel says without missing a beat. “You're scared.”
“Yeah, a coward.”
“Being scared and being a coward are not synonyms.”
“How do you do it? How do you just like...ignore everything? Everyone is fucking shitty to you and you let it happen. Jesse St. Douchebag eggs you and you get back at him with a song? Fuck that, I'd key his car and shave his head.”
It earns Santana a laugh and she can't help but join in. The sounds echo off of the auditorium seats and walls until Santana finds herself leaning against Rachel, the last bits of laughter squeezing out of her lungs.
“It's not a matter of letting it happen,” Rachel finally sighs. “It's a matter of knowing that there's something bigger out there. Something that will make all of this,” she flourishes her hand around in the air, gesturing to the auditorium, “seem insignificant. That and I'd rather not have a destruction of property accusation on my permanent record.”
“Yeah, but it'd be awesome in an autobiography.”
“You speak the truth.”
Santana sighs and does something she swore she'd never do and prays that it'll never leave the auditorium.
“I'm sorry I ever made you feel like this.”
“I apologize as well. My comment was extremely harsh and out of line.”
“I'm still going to be a bitch, just so you know. I'll just...tone it down.”
“And I'll still be a diva but I, too, will attempt to lessen the intensity of my attitude.”
“You know, if we teamed up for a duet or something it could be some epic shit.”
“I accept your offer, but,” Rachel's eyes dart to the auditorium doors where Santana sees a very familiar figure standing with her bag, waving excitedly and grinning, “I believe you owe someone else the pleasure, first.”
Santana stands and Rachel follows. Rachel's arms open for a hug; Santana sticks her hand out for a handshake before muttering, “why the hell not?” and wrapping her arms around Rachel's waist.
“Britt's taking me to Breadstix. You wouldn't, like, wanna go, would you?” Santana asks, as she pulls away.
Rachel's face lights up for a moment before she smiles and shakes her head. “I'll take a rain check. I believe you should discuss some things with your best friend.”
“Yeah. So I'll see you tomorrow?”
“No.”
Santana quirks an eyebrow until Rachel cracks a smile.
“Tomorrow is Saturday, Santana.”
“Right. Monday, then.”
“See you Monday.”
Rachel practically bounces off stage and Santana grabs her bag to meet Brittany. She has things to discuss and a wheelbarrow of breadsticks to devour.
Characters: Rachel, Santana, minor Brittany.
Rating: PG-13 (because Santana likes to swear)
Length: ~1,000
Summary: The aftermath of this. (Spoilers for 2x12 Silly Little Love Songs)
Author's Note: Just a little something to bust up all the angst.
There are nearly one thousand students at McKinley High School. Despite this fact, Santana Lopez isn't shocked when Rachel Berry is the one that steps into the auditorium after school where Santana is sitting on a piano bench, center stage, staring out into the empty seats. Quickly, Santana wipes the rogue tears from her eyes as small footsteps echo through the auditorium and finally stop to her left.
“Santana?”
“Here to tell me I'll end up a crack-addicted whore, now, Berry?”
“I would apologize for my earlier comment but I have yet to ever hear an apology for anything you've ever said or done to me.”
“I know I've been, like, a bitch to you or whatever but I've never said anything that bad.”
“It adds up over time.”
“Tell me about it,” Santana mumbles. The bench creaks and Rachel is sitting next to her; Santana feels the other girl's gaze on the side of her head.
“Forgive me for asking, but what could you possibly have to build up? You're popular.”
“Like you care.”
“I'll say to you what I said to Quinn last year: I don't hate you.”
Santana only shrugs.
“You let things get to you.”
“I'm not in the mood for this, Dr. Phil.”
“I'm sure you'd rather talk to Brittany.”
It's the way Rachel says it that makes Santana snap her head up to look at her. There was a tone of “I know something” in her voice. It isn't something she was willing to talk about but, apparently, Rachel is.
“I see the way you look at her.”
“I'm not talking about that.”
It stops the conversation for a little while. In the silence, something happens to Santana that's never really happened with anyone but Brittany. The urge to talk bubbles up in her chest and before she knows it, she's spilling everything.
“I never told Coach about the baby,” she starts. It gets Rachel's attention and she sits up straighter and folds her hands in her lap. “But I tell Q about my...summer surgery...and she rats me out. Like, what kind of bitch does that? And, like, I know everyone thinks I tried to bring down glee club or whatever but if I really wanted to then I would have, you know? I would've quit or whatever but I meant what I said, it's the best part of my day.”
“I stand by my belief in you, regarding that issue.”
“I know you're all pissed at me for sleeping with your 'man',” Santana emphasizes the word “man” with airquotes, because, really Finn Hudson is not even close, “but, seriously, he's the one that lied to you. I just didn't talk. He lied to your face, not me. Not even you deserve an asshole like that.”
“I'll take that as a compliment.”
There's more silence and Santana watches Rachel fidget with the hem of her skirt, biting her lower lip.
“I have goals and shit, you know?”
Rachel nods.
“I want to like, rule the world or something.”
“I believe you would be very well suited for politics.”
“Because I'm a bitch?”
“Because you're a very strong minded, stubborn person who is willing to fight for what she believes in.”
Santana snorts and before she can stop, it comes out. “I'm a coward. I can't even tell my best friend I'm in love with her.”
“You're not a coward,” Rachel says without missing a beat. “You're scared.”
“Yeah, a coward.”
“Being scared and being a coward are not synonyms.”
“How do you do it? How do you just like...ignore everything? Everyone is fucking shitty to you and you let it happen. Jesse St. Douchebag eggs you and you get back at him with a song? Fuck that, I'd key his car and shave his head.”
It earns Santana a laugh and she can't help but join in. The sounds echo off of the auditorium seats and walls until Santana finds herself leaning against Rachel, the last bits of laughter squeezing out of her lungs.
“It's not a matter of letting it happen,” Rachel finally sighs. “It's a matter of knowing that there's something bigger out there. Something that will make all of this,” she flourishes her hand around in the air, gesturing to the auditorium, “seem insignificant. That and I'd rather not have a destruction of property accusation on my permanent record.”
“Yeah, but it'd be awesome in an autobiography.”
“You speak the truth.”
Santana sighs and does something she swore she'd never do and prays that it'll never leave the auditorium.
“I'm sorry I ever made you feel like this.”
“I apologize as well. My comment was extremely harsh and out of line.”
“I'm still going to be a bitch, just so you know. I'll just...tone it down.”
“And I'll still be a diva but I, too, will attempt to lessen the intensity of my attitude.”
“You know, if we teamed up for a duet or something it could be some epic shit.”
“I accept your offer, but,” Rachel's eyes dart to the auditorium doors where Santana sees a very familiar figure standing with her bag, waving excitedly and grinning, “I believe you owe someone else the pleasure, first.”
Santana stands and Rachel follows. Rachel's arms open for a hug; Santana sticks her hand out for a handshake before muttering, “why the hell not?” and wrapping her arms around Rachel's waist.
“Britt's taking me to Breadstix. You wouldn't, like, wanna go, would you?” Santana asks, as she pulls away.
Rachel's face lights up for a moment before she smiles and shakes her head. “I'll take a rain check. I believe you should discuss some things with your best friend.”
“Yeah. So I'll see you tomorrow?”
“No.”
Santana quirks an eyebrow until Rachel cracks a smile.
“Tomorrow is Saturday, Santana.”
“Right. Monday, then.”
“See you Monday.”
Rachel practically bounces off stage and Santana grabs her bag to meet Brittany. She has things to discuss and a wheelbarrow of breadsticks to devour.