Pezberry: The Snow is Cold
Fandom: Glee
Title: The Snow is Cold
Author: purrpickle
Rating: T/R (possibly an M rating later *smirk*)
Length: 4,000+
Chapter: One
Pairing(s): Rachel/Santana
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee nor the characters within.
Summary: All Santana Lopez wants to do with her free day is enjoy her old theatre with its old movies in peace. But then the very infuriating Rachel Berry shows up and won't leave her alone. Of course, to make matters worse, they get snowed in. Dammit.
A/N: My brain's too active for its own good. After superhero!Santana and singing!Santana, I wanted to try my hand at bitchy!Santana - all the while crafting a Pezberry romance. Ohh, I love to challenge myself... *shakes her head, grinning*
There was a reason Santana Lopez drove forty minutes out of Lima every other weekend. Tucked away in a small city that most wouldn't notice, an old theatre stood. Playing a revolving cycle of old black and white movies, it was funded with money left behind by some Golden Age movie star that had died twenty years ago. It was worn and run down, but only in the distinguished way buildings from the early 20's could do. Sure, it smelled like moth balls and popcorn grease more often than not, and the concession stand left things to be desired, but that wasn't the point. It had a functioning heater, five bucks could get you a full day's admission, barely anyone attended, and though the manager didn't seem to care that the quality of the movie reels fluctuated, nobody from Lima knew about it. Not even Brittany.
Ten years ago, Santana's grandmother had made a tradition of visiting the cinema as often as possible, raising the young girl on Stewart, Garbo, Hepburn (both), Grant, Bogart, Monroe, and many others. Santana never told anyone about the theatre; after her grandmother passed away seven years later, the theatre was Santana's and Santana's alone.
Stamping snow from her boots and slipping her gloves from her hands, Santana stuffed them into the pockets of her parka, pausing to let her eyes adjust to the sudden shift from darkness to light. "Hey Doug," she called to the boy behind the ticket/concession counter as she approached, "I thought you had a game this weekend."
"Nope," Doug shook his head, automatically grabbing a packet of Red Vines, "It was canceled due to the weather. I'm surprised you came today - looks nasty out there." He slid her the box of candy, accepting her money.
"Yeah…" Looking at the flurries of snow that seemed to get thicker as she watched through the glass ticket window, she shook her head. "I almost turned around on the way over here," she admitted, opening the Red Vines and pulling one out, "Glad you're open, though."
"Rain, sleet, hail, meteorites - the Postal Service has nothing on us."
Santana smirked. "Sure. You just wanted the hours."
"That too. Oh! Duty calls. Enjoy the show, San." Having spotted some people entering, Doug hurried to the other end of the counter.
Replacing her wallet into the back pocket of her jeans and heading for one of the free cups of water set out on the counter, Santana's ears caught a familiar voice. She froze, not daring to turn around for fear of what she would see.
" - and I find the limitations of black and white film only enhanced the finished product, as the directors were forced, if you will, to overcome those limitations in quite often ingenious ways. Such as - "
Santana groaned, a sharp bolt of anger rushing through her. Only one person could fill her with such annoyance and fury at the same time. What the hell was she doing here?
The pint-sized bane of her existence: Rachel Barbra Berry.
" - already seen these films, Daddy, but there's nothing like experiencing them on the big screen. Now, I know you don't care for Bogart - though how you cannot, as he was a classically trained actor who starred in many widely well regarded movies, I don't know - so I took the liberty to call ahead and get the program for today. …Santana?"
Santana got a strange feeling of satisfaction when she heard Rachel's voice adopt a higher pitch and quizzical tone just for the sake of her name. Didn't make her any less annoyed, but it was gratifying. Placing her best uninterested 'there's nothing you can say to make me give a shit' expression on her face, she turned to the small girl who had walked up to her.
"Berry," she drawled, placing a hand on her hip, surreptitiously slipping the box of Red Vines into the pocket of her parka with the other. Couldn't let the chance of Rachel's big mouth blabbing about the candy somewhere where Coach could catch wind of it.
"I'm surprised to see you here," Rachel tilted her head a little, the hair not caught by the wool cap she was wearing sliding down her face. Tucking the wayward strands behind her ear, she offered Santana a small, shy smile, "Do you enjoy old movies too?"
Santana could see a tall black man talking to Doug a couple of feet away, buying popcorn and drinks. While Doug managed to say something that made the man chuckle, Santana noticed that his eyes were focused mainly on his daughter and her. Assuming this was Rachel's 'Daddy', Santana's policy of avoiding parental units as much as possible told her she had to make this quick.
"As if, Man Hands," she sneered, crossing her arms arrogantly, "Don't get used to seeing me here. I was just passing through the city when my car started acting up. This place looked warm, so I stopped. That's it."
"Oh." Santana could see Rachel almost physically deflate. "I see." There was a slight pause, and then Rachel looked up at her again, her face brightening, "Would you like me to look at it? I pride myself in knowing the basics of automobile maintenance, as it is a useful skill to have. In fact, depending on the make and model of your vehicle, I could - "
Jesus; of course the midget would know something off the wall like that. Santana cut her off before she could go any farther, "I've already called Triple A. They're on their way."
"Oh." Rachel repeated herself, then glanced down at her watch, having to pull the sleeve of her polar tech jacket up to do so, "Did they give you an estimate as to when they're arriving? You should make note of it."
"I don't know - twenty minutes or something. I'm paying them enough money that they damn well get here like the fucking VIP I am." That should be well over enough time to get Rachel into the theatre so she could make a quick exit. There was no way she wanted to share her place with the other girl.
Daddy Berry finished paying for a medium popcorn and two large sodas and made his way over to join his daughter. Santana nodded at him, but kept her mouth shut. If she could help it, she didn't want to have to deal with pleasantries.
Up close, Rachel's father looked even taller, and though he didn't look mean, he didn't look particularly welcoming. He nodded back at her, then turned his attention to his daughter, "Rachel, honey, this a friend from school?"
Shooting a quick glance at Santana, Rachel gave her father a half-smile, "Glee club, actually. Daddy, this is Santana Lopez."
Daddy Berry's eyebrow quirked, and he gave Santana a slightly disapproving stare, "One of the cheerleaders?"
Santana bristled, but she gave him a pointed stare of her own instead of the sneer she would have normally reserved for the people stupid enough to speak to her like that; there was no sense in baiting him, after all, as it would undoubtedly prolong the situation. "Yes, I am a Cheerio," she said evenly, switching her gaze to Rachel, to whom she raised her eyebrow.
Avoiding her gaze, Rachel executed a rather impressive pivot on her heel and grabbed her father's elbow, dragging him far away enough that Santana couldn't hear what they were saying. But she could still read body language, and what she was seeing was quite telling. Daddy Berry didn't look pleased, and his stance screamed reluctance, his head shaking back and forth every so often. Though her face wasn't turned in Santana's direction, Rachel was moving her hands around wildly, her head jerking back towards Santana. Finally, Daddy Berry's expression turned into grudging acceptance, and he shot Santana a mild look before accepting the hug his daughter gave him, handed her one of the sodas, and made his way into the theatre alone.
"Alright then!" Rachel chirped happily as she all but skipped back over to Santana, "I will keep you company until Triple A arrives."
Oh, for fuck's sake. "You don't have to do that. Seriously."
"That's okay, Santana, I don't mind."
Rachel might not, but Santana sure did. Groaning, she resisted the urge to run her hands through her hair and scream. Rachel was too damn stubborn for her own good. "No," she lowered her voice, glaring down at the smaller girl, "I'm not requesting. You don't have to. So leave me alone."
"Santana," Rachel started in that irritating tone that gave the impression she was better than Santana and knew it, "I understand that you may feel unwilling to admit that you have to rely on someone - "
What!?
" - but really, I have no problem with keeping you company, as well as I'm sure my father would not be adverse to offering you a ride if the weather turns worse as it seems to be threatening to do, causing Triple A to not be able to safely come pick you up."
Santana's eyebrow twitched, and she stared at Rachel.
Taking her silence as acceptance, Rachel smiled broadly and clapped her hands together. "Great! We can take this time to discuss song selections for when school starts up again. While I see no problem with all the contemporary pop hits we've been doing recently, I believe that hasn't been doing as much as it could for stretching the vocal spectrum of our group and achieving optimal effect."
"No, no, hold up!" Shaking her head and waving her hand in the air to cut the small girl off, Santana glared at her. "I'm not sure where you're getting this shit from, but I don't want to discuss anything with you. Especially nothing that has to do with singing. Got it?"
"But Santana, I'm sure we could find a song that would compliment your vocal strengths and help you work in areas you're lacking. While not on par with my own voice, of course, but no less worthy of mention, I'm sure with time and practice, you'd become a stronger singer - "
"Berry!" Santana growled, taking a step forward to physically invade Rachel's space, "I swear to god that if you do not turn around and march your freakishly tiny body into that theatre and leave me the fuck alone, you will not survive long enough to see the next glee class."
Either from stubbornness or fear, Rachel didn't move, her mouth snapping shut with a click and head tilting up. If she wasn't so angry, Santana would have given her props. Instead, the lack of response only made her blood boil. "Alright, that's it - "
"Santana," Rachel spoke up quietly, effectively cutting her off mid-rant, "Is something bothering you?"
Santana's mouth dropped open, and she drew in a deep breath of air, crossing her arms so she didn't do something as stupid as grabbing Rachel's arms and squeezing, "Oh, so now the dwarf gets it. Slow, much?"
Narrowing her eyes but not rising to the bait, Rachel shook her head, resting the hand not holding the soda gently on her hip, "Am I mistaken?"
"Oh my god. Of course you're not fucking mistaken! You! You are bothering the hell out of me, and you know what? I'm going to take the high road and get the fuck out of here." Santana whirled around, starting to stomp her way towards the door.
Rachel's boots made loud clomping noises as she hurried after her, "You can't walk home!" she all but shrilled out, "That's just foolish - "
"No, you know what's foolish?" Santana swung around, nailing Rachel in her spot with a harsh glare. "It's someone who, for no good reason at all, insists on pestering me incessantly. Tell me, Berry. Do you want a one-way ticket to the ER?"
Rachel's eyes widened, but she swallowed and shook her head, chin raising in confidence, "Though you may be threatening bodily harm, I have no reason to believe you would follow through. You wouldn't do that, Santana."
Santana grinned toothily, walking right up to Rachel, pushing her face close enough to the small girl's that she could see the quivering of her eyelashes. "Oh really," she purred dangerously, "You know this?"
Rachel's breath hitched, her eyes getting bigger and bigger, body ramrod straight. She bit her lip, nodding jerkily, quickly glancing around and trying to surreptitiously look behind her, probably judging how close the counter was to her back so Santana couldn't corner her.
"Nuh uh." Grabbing Rachel's chin, Santana pulled her back to face her, "You challenge me, you face me."
Rachel's breath skittered across Santana's skin, and out of nowhere, she realized just how charged the situation was. God dammit. She couldn't pull back without losing control of the situation and though Rachel annoyed her more than anyone else, she was correct - Santana truly didn't want to hurt her. She did, however, want to assert her authority.
"Santana…" Rachel trembled, the drink in her hand pressing against Santana's hipbone. "I… I'm not challenging you…"
Santana licked her lips. Being this close to the other girl, skin warm under her fingers, another thought entirely hit her. Eyes dipping to take in partly opened pink lips mere centimeters from her hand, Santana felt her anger start slipping into another emotion, just as equally fiery.
"…I… I'm just tr-trying to help you."
Santana growled. Rachel did not know when to shut up. Sliding her hand up and around Rachel's cheek, the other coming up to palm the other side of her head, pressing firmly against the wool cap she was wearing, Santana glanced back at Rachel's face when the smaller girl gasped. Large dark eyes swimming with uncertainty, fear, and a healthy amount of anger closed as Santana slipped her fingers under warm fabric. With a cascade of dark hair, one firm tug pulled the hat off.
It was petty, sure, but with the acquisition of Rachel's hat, Santana had given herself a valid reason for stepping back without feeling like she'd given up something. Taking in the bright purple fabric and Rachel's attempts at getting her newly released hair to obey gravity, a smirk curled over her mouth.
"Santana - what - you - What are you, five?" Spluttering, Rachel recovered quickly. She glared imperiously at Santana, red staining her cheeks, "Please, this childish behavior isn't warranted. I would appreciate my hat back."
Santana crossed her arms, the hand holding the hat tauntingly bobbing up and down. "Will you leave me alone?"
Rachel took a deep breath, and Santana could see the rant bubbling up within her. She toyed with the idea of letting the short girl erupt, enjoying the red color that was spreading over her face and the part of her neck visible, but wondered if the consequences would be worth it. However, the choice was taken away from her when Doug hurrying over to the two of them distracted her from staving off the verbal deluge.
"Santana Lopez! I cannot believe this level of utter childishness you are exhibiting! Frankly, I do not understand this unwillingness to start a dialogue with me, nor to allow me to help you with your trouble! I may have been assuming too much when I offered to keep you company, because goodness knows you would never deign to hang out with me willingly. I'm sorry I presumed so much in wishing to help you." Righteous sarcasm dripped off her words; Santana was almost impressed.
But Rachel wasn't done, "However! That does not excuse your reprehensible behavior, to which I would appreciate an explanation. Of course, knowing you, and your irrational need to subscribe to the pathetic high school hierarchy and all the rules that entails, I am sure I shall not get any. "
Knowing just the right way to respond that would drive the small girl crazy, Santana looked down, studying her nails. "You done yet, Berry?" There was no reason in acknowledging the fact that some of her words had actuallycut. That would only give the dwarf some ammo she didn't deserve.
A patented Rachel Berry storm off was prevented when Doug swooped in, probably waiting for a pause long enough to enter unscathed. "San!" he glared at her almost sheepishly, obviously been sent by his boss, "Is there a problem here?"
Groaning internally - she really hadn't meant for things to escalate to where they had; why couldn't Rachel have just left her the fuck alone? - Santana smiled sweetly at her friend. "No, it's quite alright, Doug. Berry here just suffers from Tourette Syndrome," she looked pointedly at the still red-faced girl, who gasped indignantly; Santana raised a stern eyebrow at her, "Don't you?"
"I do no such thing - !"
"Yup, see?" Santana talked over her, "She just doesn't like to admit it."
The grinding of Rachel's teeth was almost audible. But, perhaps realizing that calming down was the right course of action, she took in a deep breath and started tugging at her clothes, making a sudden jump for her hat that Santana easily dodged with a small sidestep. The attempt might have been cute if Santana wasn't so annoyed with her. Rachel Berry certainly did not give up.
Doug looked as if he didn't believe her, but as he glanced between the two girls and back at the door that led to his boss' office, he offered up, "Well, uhm, just keep your voices down, please," and walked stiffly back to the concession counter. Watching him go, Santana knew she owed him an apology - but on some other day, of course.
Having watched Doug walk off as well, Rachel crossed her arms and turned back, glowering at Santana up through thick eyelashes. She pursed her lips. "I resent the inference that I have a neuropsychiatric disorder."
Jesus, what was with the big words? Santana rolled her eyes, propping her hands on her hips, "Think about it this way, Man Hands. Now you have a valid excuse for the verbal diarrhea that spews from your mouth."
Rachel wrinkled her nose, "Must you say such uncouth things?"
Santana snorted. "Wow, you must not go to high school, do you?" She threw her hair back and fluidly moved forward to snatch the soda out of Rachel's hands, "I'm sorry, but we can't all be sheltered little princesses." She took a deep sip, not surprised at all when Sprite spread over her taste buds. She licked her lips and smirked at Rachel: Santana 2, Rachel 0.
Wide eyed at the oral rape of her drink, Rachel stood there frozen as if she couldn't believe what had just happened. Finally, she started shrugging off her jacket, struggling for a bit when the sleeve caught on her watch.
"Whoah, whoah, Berry! What the hell ya doin'?"
"I'm surprised you haven't realized it yet, Santana," Rachel offered dangerously calmly, "Since you insist on stealing my property, I'm saving you the trouble and giving you my jacket willingly." Yanking it fully off of herself, as well as unwinding the matching purple scarf that had hung loosely around her neck, Rachel was quickly left in one of her signature argyle sweaters - Santana snorted at it also being purple in color - and light blue jeans, "Here, you can have my scarf, as well." Then she walked forward and tried to shove her clothing into Santana's arms.
"Hey! Hey!" Jumping backwards, Santana snarled out, "I don't want that shit."
Rachel didn't relent, pushing the clothing back at her, "Oh, I'm sure you do."
Santana's grip on the soda tightened as she wended and weaved her way back, not wanting the disgusting purple fabric anywhere near her. "Stop!"
A particularly intense determined expression took over Rachel's face, and she shook her head, "Take it."
"No!"
"Take it."
"Fucking hell, Berry. No!"
Mentally patting herself on the back for evading the smaller girl as well as she was - but really, how fast could the little hobbit be when compared to someone as in shape as herself? - Santana also fully realized how stupid the whole spectacle looked. She was Santana fucking Lopez, and this was beneath her. So, when Rachel lunged at her again, instead of moving back as the other girl obviously expected, she tensed her body and stood her ground.
With a loud 'oomph' and crashing of bone against bone, softness against softness, and a whole heck of a lot of Rachel's hair in her mouth, Santana found herself once again pressed up close against the other girl, only quick thinking keeping the soda away from in between them and still intact. "Is this going to become a common occurrence," she asked dryly, spitting out Rachel's hair and using the back of the hand holding the soda cup to wipe her mouth clean, "Or do you just like ending up in my arms?"
Pushing herself away, Rachel glared at her. "I'll have you know this was your fault," she declared snottily, "As was the last time. It is you who seems to want to enter my personal space." Then, as Santana was making sure no hair remained in her mouth, Rachel danced forward and successfully snatched her hat back. "Keep the soda," she gloated, tying her jacket around her waist and slipping the hat and scarf back on.
Santana growled, not amused in the least. Dammit! That plan shouldn't have backfired as it had. If only they weren't where they were; Rachel was fucking lucky she wasn't soon going to have Sprite dripping all over her.
Oh, right. Narrowing her eyes, Santana's gaze swept from Rachel to Doug to the inner theatre doors and out to where her car waited, offering her freedom from the infuriating. Then, as she moved to look at Rachel again, the ticket counter window caught her attention. Not sure at first what she was seeing, horror exploded in her body like a flood of freezing water. "Oh, fuck no!" she burst out, almost throwing the soda into Rachel's hands before sprinting to the closed theatre doors. Planting her palms on the chilly wood, she took a deep breath and pushed for all she was worth. The door budging a few inches before halting, biting cold snow sucked in by the sudden vacuum quickly plastered the parts of her body left exposed. Shoving again, she got nowhere.
About to try again, small hands pulled her back, Doug brushing past her as he forced the door closed. "Well," he turned and tried to smile supportively at the two girls, Rachel having let Santana go as soon as she saw that no more attempts at opening the door was going to happen, "Let me call the snowplow people."
Shivering a bit as the snow rapidly melted in the much warmer air, Santana grunted when Rachel offered her the jacket she'd tried so hard to get away from earlier, using it to wipe herself off. Once done, she distractedly handed it back. Spying a couple of high backed chairs in the corner of the lobby, she made her way over to them, collapsing in the closest one with a groan, burying her head into her hands.
What the hell now?
Title: The Snow is Cold
Author: purrpickle
Rating: T/R (possibly an M rating later *smirk*)
Length: 4,000+
Chapter: One
Pairing(s): Rachel/Santana
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee nor the characters within.
Summary: All Santana Lopez wants to do with her free day is enjoy her old theatre with its old movies in peace. But then the very infuriating Rachel Berry shows up and won't leave her alone. Of course, to make matters worse, they get snowed in. Dammit.
A/N: My brain's too active for its own good. After superhero!Santana and singing!Santana, I wanted to try my hand at bitchy!Santana - all the while crafting a Pezberry romance. Ohh, I love to challenge myself... *shakes her head, grinning*
There was a reason Santana Lopez drove forty minutes out of Lima every other weekend. Tucked away in a small city that most wouldn't notice, an old theatre stood. Playing a revolving cycle of old black and white movies, it was funded with money left behind by some Golden Age movie star that had died twenty years ago. It was worn and run down, but only in the distinguished way buildings from the early 20's could do. Sure, it smelled like moth balls and popcorn grease more often than not, and the concession stand left things to be desired, but that wasn't the point. It had a functioning heater, five bucks could get you a full day's admission, barely anyone attended, and though the manager didn't seem to care that the quality of the movie reels fluctuated, nobody from Lima knew about it. Not even Brittany.
Ten years ago, Santana's grandmother had made a tradition of visiting the cinema as often as possible, raising the young girl on Stewart, Garbo, Hepburn (both), Grant, Bogart, Monroe, and many others. Santana never told anyone about the theatre; after her grandmother passed away seven years later, the theatre was Santana's and Santana's alone.
Stamping snow from her boots and slipping her gloves from her hands, Santana stuffed them into the pockets of her parka, pausing to let her eyes adjust to the sudden shift from darkness to light. "Hey Doug," she called to the boy behind the ticket/concession counter as she approached, "I thought you had a game this weekend."
"Nope," Doug shook his head, automatically grabbing a packet of Red Vines, "It was canceled due to the weather. I'm surprised you came today - looks nasty out there." He slid her the box of candy, accepting her money.
"Yeah…" Looking at the flurries of snow that seemed to get thicker as she watched through the glass ticket window, she shook her head. "I almost turned around on the way over here," she admitted, opening the Red Vines and pulling one out, "Glad you're open, though."
"Rain, sleet, hail, meteorites - the Postal Service has nothing on us."
Santana smirked. "Sure. You just wanted the hours."
"That too. Oh! Duty calls. Enjoy the show, San." Having spotted some people entering, Doug hurried to the other end of the counter.
Replacing her wallet into the back pocket of her jeans and heading for one of the free cups of water set out on the counter, Santana's ears caught a familiar voice. She froze, not daring to turn around for fear of what she would see.
" - and I find the limitations of black and white film only enhanced the finished product, as the directors were forced, if you will, to overcome those limitations in quite often ingenious ways. Such as - "
Santana groaned, a sharp bolt of anger rushing through her. Only one person could fill her with such annoyance and fury at the same time. What the hell was she doing here?
The pint-sized bane of her existence: Rachel Barbra Berry.
" - already seen these films, Daddy, but there's nothing like experiencing them on the big screen. Now, I know you don't care for Bogart - though how you cannot, as he was a classically trained actor who starred in many widely well regarded movies, I don't know - so I took the liberty to call ahead and get the program for today. …Santana?"
Santana got a strange feeling of satisfaction when she heard Rachel's voice adopt a higher pitch and quizzical tone just for the sake of her name. Didn't make her any less annoyed, but it was gratifying. Placing her best uninterested 'there's nothing you can say to make me give a shit' expression on her face, she turned to the small girl who had walked up to her.
"Berry," she drawled, placing a hand on her hip, surreptitiously slipping the box of Red Vines into the pocket of her parka with the other. Couldn't let the chance of Rachel's big mouth blabbing about the candy somewhere where Coach could catch wind of it.
"I'm surprised to see you here," Rachel tilted her head a little, the hair not caught by the wool cap she was wearing sliding down her face. Tucking the wayward strands behind her ear, she offered Santana a small, shy smile, "Do you enjoy old movies too?"
Santana could see a tall black man talking to Doug a couple of feet away, buying popcorn and drinks. While Doug managed to say something that made the man chuckle, Santana noticed that his eyes were focused mainly on his daughter and her. Assuming this was Rachel's 'Daddy', Santana's policy of avoiding parental units as much as possible told her she had to make this quick.
"As if, Man Hands," she sneered, crossing her arms arrogantly, "Don't get used to seeing me here. I was just passing through the city when my car started acting up. This place looked warm, so I stopped. That's it."
"Oh." Santana could see Rachel almost physically deflate. "I see." There was a slight pause, and then Rachel looked up at her again, her face brightening, "Would you like me to look at it? I pride myself in knowing the basics of automobile maintenance, as it is a useful skill to have. In fact, depending on the make and model of your vehicle, I could - "
Jesus; of course the midget would know something off the wall like that. Santana cut her off before she could go any farther, "I've already called Triple A. They're on their way."
"Oh." Rachel repeated herself, then glanced down at her watch, having to pull the sleeve of her polar tech jacket up to do so, "Did they give you an estimate as to when they're arriving? You should make note of it."
"I don't know - twenty minutes or something. I'm paying them enough money that they damn well get here like the fucking VIP I am." That should be well over enough time to get Rachel into the theatre so she could make a quick exit. There was no way she wanted to share her place with the other girl.
Daddy Berry finished paying for a medium popcorn and two large sodas and made his way over to join his daughter. Santana nodded at him, but kept her mouth shut. If she could help it, she didn't want to have to deal with pleasantries.
Up close, Rachel's father looked even taller, and though he didn't look mean, he didn't look particularly welcoming. He nodded back at her, then turned his attention to his daughter, "Rachel, honey, this a friend from school?"
Shooting a quick glance at Santana, Rachel gave her father a half-smile, "Glee club, actually. Daddy, this is Santana Lopez."
Daddy Berry's eyebrow quirked, and he gave Santana a slightly disapproving stare, "One of the cheerleaders?"
Santana bristled, but she gave him a pointed stare of her own instead of the sneer she would have normally reserved for the people stupid enough to speak to her like that; there was no sense in baiting him, after all, as it would undoubtedly prolong the situation. "Yes, I am a Cheerio," she said evenly, switching her gaze to Rachel, to whom she raised her eyebrow.
Avoiding her gaze, Rachel executed a rather impressive pivot on her heel and grabbed her father's elbow, dragging him far away enough that Santana couldn't hear what they were saying. But she could still read body language, and what she was seeing was quite telling. Daddy Berry didn't look pleased, and his stance screamed reluctance, his head shaking back and forth every so often. Though her face wasn't turned in Santana's direction, Rachel was moving her hands around wildly, her head jerking back towards Santana. Finally, Daddy Berry's expression turned into grudging acceptance, and he shot Santana a mild look before accepting the hug his daughter gave him, handed her one of the sodas, and made his way into the theatre alone.
"Alright then!" Rachel chirped happily as she all but skipped back over to Santana, "I will keep you company until Triple A arrives."
Oh, for fuck's sake. "You don't have to do that. Seriously."
"That's okay, Santana, I don't mind."
Rachel might not, but Santana sure did. Groaning, she resisted the urge to run her hands through her hair and scream. Rachel was too damn stubborn for her own good. "No," she lowered her voice, glaring down at the smaller girl, "I'm not requesting. You don't have to. So leave me alone."
"Santana," Rachel started in that irritating tone that gave the impression she was better than Santana and knew it, "I understand that you may feel unwilling to admit that you have to rely on someone - "
What!?
" - but really, I have no problem with keeping you company, as well as I'm sure my father would not be adverse to offering you a ride if the weather turns worse as it seems to be threatening to do, causing Triple A to not be able to safely come pick you up."
Santana's eyebrow twitched, and she stared at Rachel.
Taking her silence as acceptance, Rachel smiled broadly and clapped her hands together. "Great! We can take this time to discuss song selections for when school starts up again. While I see no problem with all the contemporary pop hits we've been doing recently, I believe that hasn't been doing as much as it could for stretching the vocal spectrum of our group and achieving optimal effect."
"No, no, hold up!" Shaking her head and waving her hand in the air to cut the small girl off, Santana glared at her. "I'm not sure where you're getting this shit from, but I don't want to discuss anything with you. Especially nothing that has to do with singing. Got it?"
"But Santana, I'm sure we could find a song that would compliment your vocal strengths and help you work in areas you're lacking. While not on par with my own voice, of course, but no less worthy of mention, I'm sure with time and practice, you'd become a stronger singer - "
"Berry!" Santana growled, taking a step forward to physically invade Rachel's space, "I swear to god that if you do not turn around and march your freakishly tiny body into that theatre and leave me the fuck alone, you will not survive long enough to see the next glee class."
Either from stubbornness or fear, Rachel didn't move, her mouth snapping shut with a click and head tilting up. If she wasn't so angry, Santana would have given her props. Instead, the lack of response only made her blood boil. "Alright, that's it - "
"Santana," Rachel spoke up quietly, effectively cutting her off mid-rant, "Is something bothering you?"
Santana's mouth dropped open, and she drew in a deep breath of air, crossing her arms so she didn't do something as stupid as grabbing Rachel's arms and squeezing, "Oh, so now the dwarf gets it. Slow, much?"
Narrowing her eyes but not rising to the bait, Rachel shook her head, resting the hand not holding the soda gently on her hip, "Am I mistaken?"
"Oh my god. Of course you're not fucking mistaken! You! You are bothering the hell out of me, and you know what? I'm going to take the high road and get the fuck out of here." Santana whirled around, starting to stomp her way towards the door.
Rachel's boots made loud clomping noises as she hurried after her, "You can't walk home!" she all but shrilled out, "That's just foolish - "
"No, you know what's foolish?" Santana swung around, nailing Rachel in her spot with a harsh glare. "It's someone who, for no good reason at all, insists on pestering me incessantly. Tell me, Berry. Do you want a one-way ticket to the ER?"
Rachel's eyes widened, but she swallowed and shook her head, chin raising in confidence, "Though you may be threatening bodily harm, I have no reason to believe you would follow through. You wouldn't do that, Santana."
Santana grinned toothily, walking right up to Rachel, pushing her face close enough to the small girl's that she could see the quivering of her eyelashes. "Oh really," she purred dangerously, "You know this?"
Rachel's breath hitched, her eyes getting bigger and bigger, body ramrod straight. She bit her lip, nodding jerkily, quickly glancing around and trying to surreptitiously look behind her, probably judging how close the counter was to her back so Santana couldn't corner her.
"Nuh uh." Grabbing Rachel's chin, Santana pulled her back to face her, "You challenge me, you face me."
Rachel's breath skittered across Santana's skin, and out of nowhere, she realized just how charged the situation was. God dammit. She couldn't pull back without losing control of the situation and though Rachel annoyed her more than anyone else, she was correct - Santana truly didn't want to hurt her. She did, however, want to assert her authority.
"Santana…" Rachel trembled, the drink in her hand pressing against Santana's hipbone. "I… I'm not challenging you…"
Santana licked her lips. Being this close to the other girl, skin warm under her fingers, another thought entirely hit her. Eyes dipping to take in partly opened pink lips mere centimeters from her hand, Santana felt her anger start slipping into another emotion, just as equally fiery.
"…I… I'm just tr-trying to help you."
Santana growled. Rachel did not know when to shut up. Sliding her hand up and around Rachel's cheek, the other coming up to palm the other side of her head, pressing firmly against the wool cap she was wearing, Santana glanced back at Rachel's face when the smaller girl gasped. Large dark eyes swimming with uncertainty, fear, and a healthy amount of anger closed as Santana slipped her fingers under warm fabric. With a cascade of dark hair, one firm tug pulled the hat off.
It was petty, sure, but with the acquisition of Rachel's hat, Santana had given herself a valid reason for stepping back without feeling like she'd given up something. Taking in the bright purple fabric and Rachel's attempts at getting her newly released hair to obey gravity, a smirk curled over her mouth.
"Santana - what - you - What are you, five?" Spluttering, Rachel recovered quickly. She glared imperiously at Santana, red staining her cheeks, "Please, this childish behavior isn't warranted. I would appreciate my hat back."
Santana crossed her arms, the hand holding the hat tauntingly bobbing up and down. "Will you leave me alone?"
Rachel took a deep breath, and Santana could see the rant bubbling up within her. She toyed with the idea of letting the short girl erupt, enjoying the red color that was spreading over her face and the part of her neck visible, but wondered if the consequences would be worth it. However, the choice was taken away from her when Doug hurrying over to the two of them distracted her from staving off the verbal deluge.
"Santana Lopez! I cannot believe this level of utter childishness you are exhibiting! Frankly, I do not understand this unwillingness to start a dialogue with me, nor to allow me to help you with your trouble! I may have been assuming too much when I offered to keep you company, because goodness knows you would never deign to hang out with me willingly. I'm sorry I presumed so much in wishing to help you." Righteous sarcasm dripped off her words; Santana was almost impressed.
But Rachel wasn't done, "However! That does not excuse your reprehensible behavior, to which I would appreciate an explanation. Of course, knowing you, and your irrational need to subscribe to the pathetic high school hierarchy and all the rules that entails, I am sure I shall not get any. "
Knowing just the right way to respond that would drive the small girl crazy, Santana looked down, studying her nails. "You done yet, Berry?" There was no reason in acknowledging the fact that some of her words had actuallycut. That would only give the dwarf some ammo she didn't deserve.
A patented Rachel Berry storm off was prevented when Doug swooped in, probably waiting for a pause long enough to enter unscathed. "San!" he glared at her almost sheepishly, obviously been sent by his boss, "Is there a problem here?"
Groaning internally - she really hadn't meant for things to escalate to where they had; why couldn't Rachel have just left her the fuck alone? - Santana smiled sweetly at her friend. "No, it's quite alright, Doug. Berry here just suffers from Tourette Syndrome," she looked pointedly at the still red-faced girl, who gasped indignantly; Santana raised a stern eyebrow at her, "Don't you?"
"I do no such thing - !"
"Yup, see?" Santana talked over her, "She just doesn't like to admit it."
The grinding of Rachel's teeth was almost audible. But, perhaps realizing that calming down was the right course of action, she took in a deep breath and started tugging at her clothes, making a sudden jump for her hat that Santana easily dodged with a small sidestep. The attempt might have been cute if Santana wasn't so annoyed with her. Rachel Berry certainly did not give up.
Doug looked as if he didn't believe her, but as he glanced between the two girls and back at the door that led to his boss' office, he offered up, "Well, uhm, just keep your voices down, please," and walked stiffly back to the concession counter. Watching him go, Santana knew she owed him an apology - but on some other day, of course.
Having watched Doug walk off as well, Rachel crossed her arms and turned back, glowering at Santana up through thick eyelashes. She pursed her lips. "I resent the inference that I have a neuropsychiatric disorder."
Jesus, what was with the big words? Santana rolled her eyes, propping her hands on her hips, "Think about it this way, Man Hands. Now you have a valid excuse for the verbal diarrhea that spews from your mouth."
Rachel wrinkled her nose, "Must you say such uncouth things?"
Santana snorted. "Wow, you must not go to high school, do you?" She threw her hair back and fluidly moved forward to snatch the soda out of Rachel's hands, "I'm sorry, but we can't all be sheltered little princesses." She took a deep sip, not surprised at all when Sprite spread over her taste buds. She licked her lips and smirked at Rachel: Santana 2, Rachel 0.
Wide eyed at the oral rape of her drink, Rachel stood there frozen as if she couldn't believe what had just happened. Finally, she started shrugging off her jacket, struggling for a bit when the sleeve caught on her watch.
"Whoah, whoah, Berry! What the hell ya doin'?"
"I'm surprised you haven't realized it yet, Santana," Rachel offered dangerously calmly, "Since you insist on stealing my property, I'm saving you the trouble and giving you my jacket willingly." Yanking it fully off of herself, as well as unwinding the matching purple scarf that had hung loosely around her neck, Rachel was quickly left in one of her signature argyle sweaters - Santana snorted at it also being purple in color - and light blue jeans, "Here, you can have my scarf, as well." Then she walked forward and tried to shove her clothing into Santana's arms.
"Hey! Hey!" Jumping backwards, Santana snarled out, "I don't want that shit."
Rachel didn't relent, pushing the clothing back at her, "Oh, I'm sure you do."
Santana's grip on the soda tightened as she wended and weaved her way back, not wanting the disgusting purple fabric anywhere near her. "Stop!"
A particularly intense determined expression took over Rachel's face, and she shook her head, "Take it."
"No!"
"Take it."
"Fucking hell, Berry. No!"
Mentally patting herself on the back for evading the smaller girl as well as she was - but really, how fast could the little hobbit be when compared to someone as in shape as herself? - Santana also fully realized how stupid the whole spectacle looked. She was Santana fucking Lopez, and this was beneath her. So, when Rachel lunged at her again, instead of moving back as the other girl obviously expected, she tensed her body and stood her ground.
With a loud 'oomph' and crashing of bone against bone, softness against softness, and a whole heck of a lot of Rachel's hair in her mouth, Santana found herself once again pressed up close against the other girl, only quick thinking keeping the soda away from in between them and still intact. "Is this going to become a common occurrence," she asked dryly, spitting out Rachel's hair and using the back of the hand holding the soda cup to wipe her mouth clean, "Or do you just like ending up in my arms?"
Pushing herself away, Rachel glared at her. "I'll have you know this was your fault," she declared snottily, "As was the last time. It is you who seems to want to enter my personal space." Then, as Santana was making sure no hair remained in her mouth, Rachel danced forward and successfully snatched her hat back. "Keep the soda," she gloated, tying her jacket around her waist and slipping the hat and scarf back on.
Santana growled, not amused in the least. Dammit! That plan shouldn't have backfired as it had. If only they weren't where they were; Rachel was fucking lucky she wasn't soon going to have Sprite dripping all over her.
Oh, right. Narrowing her eyes, Santana's gaze swept from Rachel to Doug to the inner theatre doors and out to where her car waited, offering her freedom from the infuriating. Then, as she moved to look at Rachel again, the ticket counter window caught her attention. Not sure at first what she was seeing, horror exploded in her body like a flood of freezing water. "Oh, fuck no!" she burst out, almost throwing the soda into Rachel's hands before sprinting to the closed theatre doors. Planting her palms on the chilly wood, she took a deep breath and pushed for all she was worth. The door budging a few inches before halting, biting cold snow sucked in by the sudden vacuum quickly plastered the parts of her body left exposed. Shoving again, she got nowhere.
About to try again, small hands pulled her back, Doug brushing past her as he forced the door closed. "Well," he turned and tried to smile supportively at the two girls, Rachel having let Santana go as soon as she saw that no more attempts at opening the door was going to happen, "Let me call the snowplow people."
Shivering a bit as the snow rapidly melted in the much warmer air, Santana grunted when Rachel offered her the jacket she'd tried so hard to get away from earlier, using it to wipe herself off. Once done, she distractedly handed it back. Spying a couple of high backed chairs in the corner of the lobby, she made her way over to them, collapsing in the closest one with a groan, burying her head into her hands.
What the hell now?