Title: Don't Worry Your Pretty Little Heart
Summary: AU. It's so selfish, but she really wanted Sam and Rachel to break up. It's awful for her to think it, and she knows, okay? She knows it's never going to happen, but she's crazy over the girl and she can't help that she feels that way. She can't. She's tried and it doesn't work.
Word Count: 4,00
Disclaimer: Don't own.
Auditions for NYU's senior production are during the last week of September, because that school doesn't fuck around. That means that Rachel's a ball of insanity and nerves, and basically drives everyone nuts as she prepares for this. But Santana doesn't really mind, because it's all that intense, Broadway Baby talent and bullshit that makes Rachel like, super fucking cute 90 per cent of the time. The other 10 per cent she's just cute because she's tiny and smiling. So, yeah.
She sings her audition pieces for Santana, and she's totally paying attention and Rachel sounds amazing. It's just that they're both naked and Rachel's got her hand sitting right below her tits and um, Santana has ideas.
"Shit, Rachel," she kind of whispers after, and Rachel's just standing there blinking. "You're so good."
"C'mere." Santana gets up onto her knees on the bed and Rachel walks over. "You're like, amazing."
Rachel's eyes go all soft and sweet. "Really? You think I'll get it?"
And Santana's kind of scared to just say yes, because she knows it's what Sam'd do and that kind of thing pisses Rachel off. Also, Santana does a lot of things, but she doesn't blow smoke. It's not in her to do it. She doesn't know how this is all going to go any more than anyone else does, so she's not going to promise Rachel the part's hers when she's got no clue.
So she says, "I think you've got a really good shot, Rach."
Rachel like, wraps her thigh around Santana's waist and they topple back onto the bed, but there's pressure in good places, and Rachel's giggling and happy, and really, Santana can't think of any other way she'd like the girl to be.
... ... ...
Sam shows up at her apartment once, alone, and she's got this feeling of dread in her stomach, even if she thinks Rachel'd give her a heads up if she was planning on telling him.
"Got a minute?" he asks, and like, how do you say no to a guy who looks like this and has his hands stuffed into his pockets.
"Um. Yeah. I was just studying, but it's cool." Sam sits on the couch and Santana feels nauseous. "Can I get you something?"
"No. I'm good."
"Look, you're like, Rachel's best friend, yeah?" Santana just blinks, because yeah, she is, sort of, but she can't make herself talk. "I wanna do something for her. You know, since she's Maria."
Hell yeah, Rachel got the lead. Obviously. She's fucking awesome and totally worked her ass off for years to get here. Santana hasn't known her all that long, but it doesn't stop her from being proud and stuff.
"Oh," she says, and the relief shouldn't be there, but it is. "Right."
"I was thinking about a surprise party. But she's so hard to surprise, you know? I mean, for our six month anniversary I tried to keep reservations at this really amazing restaurant a secret, but she totally found out."
Santana laughs. "Yeah, um. I dunno. I'd offer up my place, but..."
"Actually," Sam says, and she glares, because he's totally trying to make it sound like he hadn't planned that before he even came over. "I was thinking that'd be awesome. Because she might not expect you to do something for her, you know."
Santana clamps her mouth shut and presses her tongue against the roof of her mouth to keep from telling him that there's plenty she does for Rachel.
"When?" she asks, because fuck it. She'll do this shit. For Rachel, not for Sam.
She goes about a lot of the basic planning, because it's at her place or whatever. She sends out the e-vites and emphasizes that it's a surprise party. Sam gets her emails of Rachel's costars and some of her friends, and this Blaine guy who's playing her Tony. Santana orders some lilies, because they're Rachel's favourite, and gets a screaming deal on a case of this rosé champagne Rachel loves. They drank a bottle in the summer because Rachel found it at some random store near Santana's place.
She also drops $150 on a black strapless dress with a sweetheart neckline. That's for Rachel's benefit, too.
Sam basically has all the RSVPs sent to his email address, too, so he'll know who's coming. Anyone who was a maybe, he calls them back. And he makes sure they have those little plastic champagne cups you get at the dollar store for like, $3 for four hundred of 'em.
Come the night of the party, the plan is that Rachel is going to go home after rehearsal and get changed, and then she's going to Santana's to meet up with her and they're going to some art opening that is actually happening. They're just not actually going to it.
Santana isn't totally comfortable with all these strangers in her place. Seriously. There are a fuck load of people she doesn't know just like, milling around, and Mike couldn't make it, and Sam knows pretty much everyone, so he's talking to them and not her. If it wasn't for this guy Blaine, who is actually kind of fucking awesome, she'd be going insane. He thinks surprise parties are stupid, too, but they both agree that Rachel will probably love this, if for no reason other than the attention is all on her.
The buzzer sounds and everyone shuts the fuck up while Santana tells Rachel to come on up, and then they turn out the lights and gather in a big group.
No one thinks it's weird that Rachel just walks in without knocking.
She's genuinely shocked. Santana can tell. She's frozen in place inside the door, staring at the 30 or so people standing in Santana's living room.
Sam walks forward and Santana opens another bottle of champagne while that guy gets to reap the benefits of what - okay, fine - was his idea. Rachel does look at her over Sam's shoulder.
Santana gets her hug a few minutes later when she's said hello to a bunch of people and come over to get a drink. "Thank you," Rachel says quietly, looking up through her eyelashes.
"It's...Sam did most of it and I just..."
Rachel tilts her head. "Lilies? This champagne? Santana, you..."
"It's just a party, Rachel."
"It's not just a party." Rachel's hand squeezes her hip and says something about how beautiful Santana looks in that dress, and then she gets pulled away and spends most of the night talking to other people.
Rachel leaves with Sam at the end of the night, and Santana hopes it's not all in her head, but it really looks to her like Rachel doesn't want to go.
... ... ...
"I don't even really remember what it was like before I knew you," Rachel says, and Santana's not really half asleep, it's just that she's got her head resting against Rachel's chest and fingers in her hair, and it's calming and shit. (And they're fully clothed, too, so it's not even dirty.)
"Isn't that strange? It's barely been a year."
"Not even close, really. For a while, you were just the crazy hot girl whose name I knew," she says, and she's smirking because she knows it'll piss Rachel off.
"Stop." She pulls Santana's hair a bit. "I'm not that hot."
"Um. Crazy hot." She tips her head back to look at that fucking smile on her girl's face.
"I've never been friends with a girl." Santana scoffs. "No, I know we're not exactly just friends, but we were for a while. All my friends have been boys."
"Too tempted by pussy?" Santana asks, laughing, because she can't help herself. Her head is immediately pushed completely off Rachel, and she mutters 'ow' and lies flat on her back and looks at the girl.
"Girls don't like me." Santana laughs again, leans up on her elbow and raises her brow. Rachel rolls her eyes. "I mean, they're catty and mean. I don't know if they were jealous or..."
"Probably." Santana slides her hand across Rachel's stomach. It's there and she wants to, so. "You're pretty awesome."
Rachel chews her bottom lip and smiles, turns her head and leans up for a kiss, which, okay. "I actually believe that, since I met you."
Santana can't breathe. She can't. "Rachel."
"I'm sorry. I'm being sentimental."
"It's...Is that true? Like, actually." Rachel won't look away from her, and just nods her head.
Santana just kisses her for a while, softly, like the girl deserves. Fuck. It's completely stupid, but Santana wants to always make Rachel feel as good as this does, right now.
She takes her time undressing Rachel, which is something they do basically never. Sometimes they're in a rush because of other plans, or sometimes it's been days since they were actually together. Rachel came over last night after rehearsal, so they got the quick and dirty out of their systems, and then they did whatever school work they had this morning, and they've been lazing around since.
So yeah. It takes Santana like, a half an hour to actually get Rachel down to her bra and panties, and she knows she's working Rachel up really high, but whatever. She needs this woman to understand how hot Santana finds her, how fucking beautiful she is. She's not really one for words and Rachel knows that, but her mouth works really well in other ways.
She's rolling Rachel's panties down off her hips and thinking another tattoo'd look stellar right there, right above the hip bone she's kissing, and Rachel's legs open, slowly, but for a reason. Santana drapes her arm across Rachel's hips and leans her cheek against the woman's thigh, looks up. Rachel loves this. Obviously. Okay, Santana's awesome at it, and it's not like she wasn't before, but she knows Rachel's body like she was born with a map of it in her brain, and she can either make this last a fucking hour, or have Rachel coming undone in minutes. It's gonna last a while today, and she wants to make sure Rachel knows that, too, so they just share this look, and, yeah, this woman is...
Santana's got so many feelings for her it's unreal.
She presses this stupid kiss to Rachel's center, because she wants to and she can. Rachel's hips shift, but not really all that impatiently or anything, just anticipating. Santana licks her own lips, and she doesn't know what the fuck she's doing, why she's stalling, but today feels so different than other days.
She figures it out after a moment.
"Break up with him," she says, quietly, and Rachel makes a sound and Santana kisses the inside of her thigh.
"Santana, you can't...Why are you..."
"Because you're better with me," she says, and fuck, it scares her how easily that comes to her. Rachel's hand pushes into Santana's hair, and god, she closes her eyes because if she's about to be let down easy, she just can't. "You're so much fucking better with me."
Rachel's eyes are too shiny for her to not be crying right now, and Santana's about to open her mouth when Rachel just shakes her head and says, "I want you. Please."
And honestly? That's a good enough answer.
... ... ...
Rachel said she needed some time, and Santana gets that. She totally does. It's not like Rachel just sits around and does nothing and has all the time in the world to think about shit. Between school and the musical and essentially juggling two relationships, she's kind of got her hands full.
But it's not really a huge secret of any kind that Santana's just about the least patient person on the planet. Three days ago she told Rachel to dump her boyfriend and it's been two since she saw or heard from the woman. (Yeah, unplanned sleepover because of sex and late night takeout and, um, sex.) She's absolutely not trying to rush a decision or anything, and the last thing Rachel needs right now is someone breathing down her neck about what she's planning on doing.
Santana isn't one of those people who claims their lives will be over if their relationship ends. If Rachel picks Sam it'll suck, but Santana will get over it and eventually things'll be okay again. She's not dramatic and she's had her heart broken before. She's a realist. She doesn't think you're just meant for one person and that's that. Probably why she's had no problem being with someone who's attached.
But honestly, if there was only one person for everyone, she's kind of thinking Rachel is probably that person for her.
She gets a call late Saturday morning, and yeah, she's still in bed, because hi, it's Saturday, and she got up around 10:00 and made coffee and crawled back into bed with her new copy of Esquire, because it just came in the mail and she wants to enjoy it.
Anyway, it's Rachel, and her voice is all soft, which makes Santana worry for apparently no reason.
"I'm going to New Jersey to spend the rest of the weekend with my dads."
"I'm leaving after rehearsal."
"All right, well...Look, you sound really sad right now, and it's kind of killing me."
Rachel laughs a bit in her ear and Santana can picture her smiling or something. "I'm okay. I'm just...I need a little space."
"Okay," Santana says, and like, she wants to point out that she's giving Rachel all kinds of space, but she doesn't, because that wasn't an accusation or anything and she's not going to be a needy bitch. "Well, call me when you get back to the city?"
"Of course." There's that smile in Rachel's voice that Santana loves.
"Have a good weekend, baby."
Rachel lets out this little breath. (Santana didn't even call her that because she knows how much the girl loves it; it's just like, a habit or something.) "I will. You too. Try to get out of bed at some point."
Santana laughs and says goodbye, but like, shit. This is why they should be something together. They just know each other like that.
She should probably be more tense than she is, but honestly, that phone call was a good thing. It's not like it's unheard of for Rachel to go spend a night or two with her dads; she did it all the time in the summer. The fact that she gave Santana the courtesy of a call when they haven't spoken in a couple days is a good thing. She likes to think it means something, but it might not. And shit, maybe in the last few days she's been like, working on her relationship with Sam and thinking of ways to end things with Santana, but she really doesn't think that's the case, either.
She wouldn't need space if she wasn't trying to make a decision.
Santana meets Mike in the afternoon at this Starbucks that's 'theirs' because it's exactly halfway between where he lives and where she does. She still has to cross a fucking bridge, but whatever. They spread books out in front of them and study together, even though they're taking completely separate majors. He ends up inviting her to his and Tina's place for dinner, and it'll be a fucking excursion to get back over the bridge later, but she says yes anyway, because food tastes better when you don't have to cook it yourself, and she could use the distraction anyway.
The less time she has to think about Rachel, the better.
(It's funny that she thinks that's actually an achievable goal.)
... ... ...
Rachel texted late Sunday night to say she got to her apartment safely and she'd see her soon, so yeah, she stopped freaking out. What? It was like, 11:30 and she hates the idea of Rachel going from the bus terminal to her apartment all by herself that late at night. She didn't want to text and be like, 'yo, are you alive?', but she did anyway, and Rachel sent back that little smiley face emoticon she's in love with, and said she'd just walked through the door.
So whatever. Santana could actually get to sleep.
She's in class all day Monday. Literally all day. Her first class is at 9:00, then she's got a half hour break before a two hour lecture. She's got enough time to grab something quick to eat on the way to her next class, which, thank god, is just a make up from one the prof missed last week and this isn't her usual Monday schedule.
She's fucking tired, so she just makes some soup when she gets home, and crumbles up some crackers, and then drinks Diet Coke because she's got to do this reading by Wednesday and tomorrow night she's got a study group thing and won't be home to get through 50 pages of wall-to-wall text.
And she's contemplating grad school, because she's a fucking masochist or something.
The buzzer sounds around 9:30, just when she's thinking she's never going to get through these pages, and yet she's basically ready to throw her work out the window when Rachel walks through the door after being let up.
The girl looks like hell. Well, not really, because she's fucking naturally stunning or whatever. But her eyes are red-rimmed and she's cried away any makeup she might have had on, and Santana's worried again.
She puts her arms around Rachel, who is tense as fuck and obviously upset, and she doesn't know if she should be scared or happy, and Rachel's not offering up explanations. Santana's not the kind of person who's gonna start asking a hundred questions. Rachel'll talk when she's ready.
"I hate that shirt."
Santana laughs. Mostly because it was unexpected, and yet not. This shirt is one of Puck's. She stole it her first winter break from college, and there's a mysterious stain across the stomach, and a hole right over Santana's right boob. She's not wearing a bra either, so. But yeah, Rachel hates this shirt and has said she'd throw it away if it wasn't 'sentimental'. Honestly, at this point it holds more memories of this woman than it does of Puck.
"I know," Santana says against Rachel's hair. "You okay?"
Rachel nods, but Santana doesn't believe her. She pulls away and studies Rachel's face, but then the girl's kissing her, and yeah, um.
Basically that's how she knows Rachel's made her choice. She's having a hard time not screaming right now, only not really, 'cause her mouth's otherwise occupied. She grips Rachel's hips hard, pulls them so Rachel's pressed tight against her. There's a hand in her hair and another under her shirt at the small of her back.
"I'm breaking up with Sam." Her eyes are closed, so Santana's just looking at her. "I couldn't do it today because of classes and then rehearsal."
"Okay." She sounds like hell. Her voice is scratchy like there's something in her throat. The fuck's with that? "C'mere."
Santana leads them to the couch and Rachel sees all Santana's work spread out on the table and looks like she's two seconds from apologizing for interrupting, but whatever. Santana'll get it all done somehow. School's important, obviously, but so is this.
"I spent all weekend thinking about what you said," Rachel admits.
"How I'm better with you." It's a whisper, and Rachel's looking at her lap. Santana's blushing, because fuck, she did say that, didn't she? "And how right that is." Okay, well, she doesn't know how to respond to that, either. "I didn't even realize until...And then I told my dads I'm very much attracted to a woman, and..."
Rachel nods and wipes her eyes. Santana moves closer. "That was fine. They don't care whatsoever. It's amazing. I love them."
"Yeah," Santana says quietly.
"Sam is a good boyfriend," Rachel insists. Okay, that's true, or whatever. It's not like the guy's done anything to deserve this, really. Santana knows and occasionally feels bad about that. "I didn't even know I wanted anything other than him until..."
"Me," Santana says when Rachel doesn't finish. "I'd say sorry, but fuck that." Rachel closes her eyes and laughs quietly. "You know I want you."
Santana leans over and kisses her, and like, if there was ever a time when she could be completely honest, this conversation is it. "I want you." Rachel nods, but Santana can't... "Just me and you. I want you to be my girlfriend."
Rachel lets out this little whimper, like she's wanted to hear those words or something. It's good, because it makes Santana feel like less of a moron for talking about her feelings and whatnot.
And then Rachel says, "I want you, too," and Santana didn't know how badly she needed to hear it until that moment.
"Why've you been crying, babe?" She might be smiling a bit, but it's cool, 'cause Rachel laughs at herself and shakes her head.
"I somehow spent most of the day talking myself into thinking you'd changed your mind about me, and..."
Santana cuts her off with a kiss, because fuck. Why the hell would she think that? How could she? "I didn't."
"I can see that," Rachel giggles.
Santana slips her hand into Rachel's hair, rubs her thumb behind her ear the way Rachel loves. "I won't," she says, and it sounds like a promise, but damn, she finds she's okay with that, too.
Rachel plays with Santana's hair for like an hour while she finishes her reading, and Santana doesn't even want to make threats of losing fingers if she keeps that shit up. She kind of likes the idea of Rachel just lying there on the sofa and thinking about shit, touching Santana gently because she can and she wants to.
Then they curl up in Santana's bed, not cuddling or anything stupid, but facing one another and looking across the small space between them. They do that for a while, until Rachel pushes her thigh between Santana's and moves closer and presses a little kiss to Santana's lips. Then things are kind of started and like, if Santana knew how to stop them...
Well, no, she probably still wouldn't.
- Don't Worry Your Pretty Little Heart [6/10]