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: 4,500
Disclaimer: Don't own.
The next two weeks of Rachel's life are crammed full with performances, school, studying, and the endless fucking parade of friends who seem to migrate from Jersey to see her kick ass on stage. Which is great, Santana guesses. But like, in what world is it better (for her) that Rachel goes out for drinks with Finn and the guys in that band than come over and chill with her? She gets it and she's not possessive enough to need Rachel to spend every waking second beside her.
But um, she could spend some. They're fine and everything, and she's understanding of what's happening, and it's not like she doesn't have her own stuff going on, too - she's got a final in her hardest class and she's literally devoting hours every night to review - it's just that she wants to hang out with her girl.
Mike and Tina come over for pizza and drinks on a Friday night, because Rachel's got her show and Santana doesn't feel like sitting around the apartment alone in her sweats watching movies or something. She doesn't regret having people over until she's getting like, tag team stared at after mentioning Rachel's name casually in conversation. For the first time tonight. So no, she doesn't appreciate the geeky looks on her friends' faces.
"What?" she snaps.
"What's it feel like to be in love with a girl?" Tina asks, giggling.
Santana rolls her eyes and makes a crack about Mike's manhood and they're all square, but she can tell her friends know that her lack of a denial means something. At least they're nice enough not to say anything about that.
They're still hanging around when Rachel buzzes to say she's here. Santana didn't know she was coming over, but she really, really doesn't mind. She hasn't seen Rachel in a few days and she wants to, so it's a pretty basic equation. She'd told Rachel earlier that Mike and Tina were coming over.
She gets up to kiss Rachel at the door and offer her a drink, and Rachel says she'd love a beer, which. "What's wrong?" Santana asks.
Rachel just laughs. "Nothing. I'm just exhausted and I need something with substance."
There's no pizza left, but Santana can tell Rachel's starving (even if she's not, Santana'll feel better if she sees the girl at least eat something), so she grabs the Tupperware containing the salad she made too much of last night, and tosses some into a salad bowl with a little of the dressing she has here that only Rachel likes.
They all chat a while before Mike and Tina leave a little after midnight, and Rachel's massaging Santana's feet for some reason. And no, she's not the one who just spent all night in heels on stage, but she really doesn't mind this at all.
"You didn't have to feed me," Rachel says, little grin on her lips. Santana shrugs. "Are you just trying to give me energy before we go upstairs?"
Santana laughs, and okay, she does love the way Rachel's looking at her. "That wasn't even my plan, but I like how you're thinking."
Rachel licks her lips. "I hate going this long without seeing you. Isn't that ridiculous?"
Santana curves her hand around Rachel's calf as it sits alongside her own body. "No, it's not," she says, and Rachel hums and lets her thumb dig into Santana's arch. Maybe her fingers start kneading the muscle of Rachel's leg, and the girl's eyes slip closed. "You're tired."
"You'll put me to sleep if you keep doing that."
Santana smiles and watches Rachel's eyelids flutter. "C'mon. Let's go to bed. We'll bang in the morning."
Rachel laughs and shakes her head, but allows herself to be pulled up off the couch. The living room is a bit of a mess, with bottles and glasses on the table, and a couple dishes there. Whatever. It'll take her ten minutes to tidy up in the morning. Right now, Rachel's holding her hand and walking towards the stairs, and Santana just really wants to follow.
They slip into bed and Rachel's lids are heavy as soon as she's got her head on the pillow. "Sorry I'm not more fun," she say, laughing quietly at herself.
"Believe it or not, I actually like just hanging out with you when we're not having sex," Santana teases, even as she sets her hand over Rachel's ribs beneath the long sleeved tee she borrowed to sleep in.
"Mmm. News to me."
Santana chuckles and Rachel leans in to brush their lips together.
Santana falls asleep with Rachel's hand in hers. She wakes up with Rachel's face between her thighs. She wasn't totally serious on that 'sex in the morning' thing, but it's not as if she's going to complain.
... ... ...
"Let's go for a walk."
And see, that argument should not be like, compelling, only Rachel's sitting on top of Santana, who's trying to read from a text book, and yeah, she knew when she came over that Rachel was going to attempt to distract her away from her studying, but also, she thought it might be with something more fun than a walk.
"I don't want to." Rachel pushes her bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout, and Santana just stares. Fuck no, she's not falling for this. "Stop that."
"Quit it!" she laughs, reaching up and pushing at Rachel's lip with her thumb. "You're a pain in the ass, you know that?"
"I'm going crazy. You should stop reading books and pay attention to me."
"You're sitting on me."
"You're being rude." Santana closes her book and sets it on the bed next to her, raises one brow. "You are. You accepted my invitation to come over and now you're reading some big book instead of talking to me."
"Is it even possible for you to lay it on any thicker?" Santana laughs.
"Come for a walk." Santana shakes her head, just to be contrary. "Please?"
"I'll buy you a coffee. I'll let you borrow a pair of mittens." Santana shakes her head. "I'll...Cook you dinner?"
Santana rolls her eyes. "You suck at this game. You need to think how I'd think. What would I do to get you to do something you didn't totally want to?"
Rachel grins and raises her brow. "Honey, I don't think showing you videos of people walking in the park will have quite the same effect as you..."
"Shut up," Santana laughs. "Not that."
Rachel shifts on top of her, leans down a bit more and says, "I'll go down on you when we get back."
Santana smiles, reaches up to poke Rachel's cheek, and fucking loves the smile she gets back, too. "That's my girl."
So yeah, whatever. She pulls on her Uggs, which are basically trashed anyway (she has like, a good pair for when she's not just walking to the subway, then to Rachel's from there) and her coat, and yes, Rachel gives her mittens and a matching scarf, and Santana stops her before she tries to put that stupid fucking hat on her head. Like, Rachel can pull off little knit berets and shit, but Santana is not up on that.
Rachel buys her an extra hot chai latté with foam and chocolate shavings. It's the best drink ever and Santana cradles it in the hand that isn't holding Rachel's. Whatever. The girl's sipping her decaf, non fat, soy whatever the fuck it is anyway. The park is insane because it's a Saturday and the sun is out. It snowed yesterday so there're kids everywhere, doing things like building forts and chucking snow at each other. It's kind of nice, though. This is one of those rare times when she legitimately wishes she lived in Manhattan. Like, sure, she typically wishes she were a little closer to school, but she loves her place and her neighbourhood. She's not leaving it. Her dad owns her loft. It's not like she can just up and leave. She wouldn't anyway. She has yet to see an apartment in Manhattan even nearly as awesome as hers is.
When they finish their drinks, Rachel takes their cups over to the nearest garbage can, and Santana takes the opportunity to respond to a text from Puck. He's telling her about a hookup from last night, and it's not that she doesn't care, it's just...
Something cold and wet hits her thigh and she looks down and sees a white mark on her jeans, and Rachel's standing 15 feet away trying not to laugh.
"Oh, you did not just throw a snowball at me."
Rachel looks as though she's not sure whether or not Santana's actually mad. Like, she's not, really, because how the fuck do you be mad at five feet of cute girl in a winter coat with her cheeks all pink like that? But also, it's fucking cold and she doesn't want to be colder.
So naturally, she runs towards Rachel, who squeals and takes off, and people around them are laughing, but whatever.
"Santana, don't!" Rachel shouts over her shoulder, giggling, but Santana's gaining ground and she manages to slip her arms around Rachel's waist, and like, the girl just gives up, and they go sprawling onto the ground. Rachel ends up on her back, but not before kneeing Santana in the thigh, which hurts like a motherfucker. They're breathless and Santana doesn't totally know what she's doing now that she's gotten Rachel back for the snowball.
"Don't start shit you can't finish," Santana says, like a warning, or advice or something.
"I didn't think you'd attack me."
"You took a cheap shot. I had to even the scales."
"I hit you in the leg with a snowball. You...Santana, my jeans are all wet." Rachel's voice is all whiny, but then when she realizes what she's said, she meets Santana's eyes. "Let me up."
"I want to go home."
"Hey. You're the one who wanted to come for a walk."
Rachel bats her lashes. Santana's pretty sure they should be getting up off the ground any second now, but like, she kind of digs being on top of her girl, so. "I'm cold," Rachel pouts, and it's not like the fake one she did at her place earlier, it's actually a legit pout because she's complaining or whatever.
"C'mon." Santana leans back on her knees and holds out her hands to pull Rachel up with her, and then when they're standing, she helps the girl brush the snow off her pants.
When they get to Rachel's apartment, Santana turns on the kettle while Rachel changes into a pair of comfy, dry sweats, but like, Santana thinks that's pointless.
"You mad?" she asks, because Rachel's being awfully quiet.
"Come here." She pulls Rachel towards the bed and gets her 'tucked in', and Santana's there next to her. She reads her text and studies while Rachel sips her tea and goes over notes for her acting class. Her skin's still cold when Santana says it's time for a break.
They end up falling asleep all curled up under the covers, and Santana laughs, however breathlessly, when she wakes up and Rachel's leaning over her, saying something about that promise to go down on her, but really, it's not even necessary.
... ... ...
Puck calls to tell her he's coming to visit, which is awesome for a bunch of reasons, but mostly because it's a nice change from her having to go to fucking Ohio to see him. He's kind of an ass, too, because he's got his plane ticket booked and everything, before he even asked if it was okay to stay with her. It is, obviously, but she wants to fuck with him and tell him he's shit out of luck. She's too excited (shut up; he's like, her best friend) to do it, but whatever.
It's stupid, she knows this, but she really wants him to meet Rachel. It's not as though his opinion of her will change Santana's mind on being with her or anything, obviously. It's mostly like she just wants to show off her girlfriend to her friends and show them why she's with the girl. She's happy, genuinely, and she's not saying she wasn't before, but it's better now, with Rachel and this relationship and everything. Mike and Tina love Rachel. Like, Santana worries they're going to try and kidnap her or something, they love her so much. Puck will like her too; Santana's not even worried.
Rachel is. Okay, she's not worried he won't like her, Santana doesn't think, but she's all nervous to meet him. It's stupid. Then Santana asks if Rachel thinks she'd be nervous meeting her best friend, and Rachel says, "You are my best friend," and then Santana feels like shit about that for a while. But she points out that she wasn't nervous meeting Finn or anything, and Rachel rolls her eyes, but doesn't make any more arguments, even though Santana can see that she wants to try. It's really not the same thing and Rachel could easily point that out. Santana considers this like, her admitting defeat or something, and just gives her a hug, from behind, as Rachel cooks them dinner.
They're in bed later, in the dark, and Rachel's staring at her. She can feel it. It's weird and Santana wants to ask what the fuck is up, because they don't do this thing where they creepily look at one another. When she turns her head, though, Rachel just says, "I just want him to like me," in this really tiny voice, and Santana smiles and leans over to kiss the girl.
"I'm being serious."
"Santana," Rachel whines. "Do you think he will?"
"What? Think you're cute? Yeah."
Rachel laughs, moves a little closer and slides her hand over Santana's stomach. "That's not what I meant, but I will accept that answer."
Santana smiles, loops her arms around Rachel's shoulders and closes her eyes. "Good. Now go the fuck to sleep."
She gets pinched in the side, but whatever.
She goes out and buys a new comforter, because there was a really unfortunate bleach incident with the last one and she actually donated it to a shelter because she wasn't going to keep the thing around. Anyway, she realizes she doesn't have anything to cover Puck up with when his ass is loafing on her couch, and Rachel says that just won't do. Obviously, but she was kind of hoping Rachel'd just lend her one and she wouldn't have to do this.
Because like, what's more insane than Rachel Berry in Bed, Bath and Beyond?
"You need this!"
Santana looks over to see what it is this time. She's holding the handle of the plastic bag this cerulean blue comforter is vacuum packed in (the colour's not perfect, but it's on sale, so that is) and really trying to herd Rachel towards the front of the store. She's not so successful.
"I don't need a hot pink soap dish. Let's go."
"But it's pretty." Pouting. The woman is pouting over a soap dish.
"I use liquid soap," Santana reminds her. She shouldn't have to, since Rachel's always saying how much she loves the scent of the stuff Santana buys for her bathroom.
"You could use bar soap."
Santana rolls her eyes, takes Rachel's hand again. Well, one of them. The other is holding the goddamn soap dish. "So now I'm buying soap I don't need, to put in a soap dish I don't want."
Rachel's cute little brow furrows as she thinks about it, and then she looks at the dish again and, fuck, she's not putting it down. "But it's pretty!"
Santana buys the stupid soap dish, and then they head to another store, and she springs for some organic, paraben free bar of soap that smells like honey, and she gives both of them to Rachel, because no, she doesn't want them.
Anyway, Rachel basically drops her pants as soon as they're back at Santana's place, so like, whatever.
And then Rachel leaves the dish in Santana's bathroom anyway, and it's just a stupid thing to fight over, so Santana growls a little and can't help it if she drops the whole issue when Rachel just giggles and crawls back into bed.
And she's got to go get Puck in the morning anyway. Rachel doesn't want to take transit all the way out to the airport and Santana's not about to pay for a fucking cab when it's not really for herself. Call her crazy. She's got some money, sure, but she's not about to use a chunk of it on a fucking taxi when she can spend a few bucks and just take transit.
But it's not as if it's easy leaving Rachel chilling in her apartment in those jeans and that sweater and those fuzzy socks that are fucking ridiculous on anyone other than that girl. Seriously, Santana's about to walk out the door as Rachel sings something quietly to herself and fills the kettle to make tea, and she can't really help herself, okay? She walks over and sets her hand on Rachel's face, kisses her really good, and says, "I'll see you in a couple hours." Rachel's a little dazed from that kiss, so she just nods her head. Santana pats her on the ass and heads for the door before she has to do something like text Puck her address and ask if he remembers the way to her place from the couple times he's been here before because she's not fucking leaving.
(The fact that she lives in a loft and won't be having any sex at all while he's staying with her has crossed her mind one or ten times.)
She's excited to see him, obviously, because it's been a long ass time since they hung out, and talking and texting and being dicks to each other on Facebook is not the same as sitting together and shooting the shit over tequila shots and bottles of beer. And when he steps through the arrivals gate and spots her in the crowd, he smiles and walks towards her, wraps her up in a hug and says, "Christ, Lopez, thanks for greeting me with the girls," and his hands graze the sides of her tits as he pulls away. She slugs him on the arm for it, the asshole.
"Screw you. I like this shirt."
"Me too. I'm just sayin', like, it's been a while since I saw your rack and I appreciate it."
She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, but smiles and says, "Thanks, I guess. Let's get the fuck out of here, yeah?"
Since he's smart and also impatient as fuck, he only brought a carryon and didn't check any bags. She can see by the size of the bag that it pushed some limits, but he says he sweet talked the chick at the desk and she let him through. Santana actually believes that. The guy's got more natural charm than he really knows what to do with, so he uses it for stupid shit like that.
They catch up on the way back to her place, and he tells her about how his sister's now a cheerleader and he blames that entirely on Santana. It's not her fault Hannah worships the ground Santana walks on and has since she was like, eight years old. He might not like it, but Santana still thinks it's good for kids to be involved in extra-curriculars and whatever. He rolls his eyes at her and asks who the fuck she is, saying things like that. She doesn't tell him it's totally something Rachel would say.
When they get to her building, she realizes she hasn't told him Rachel's inside, and when she brings it up, he just grins in a way that makes her want to punch him.
"Don't say anything stupid."
"I wouldn't," he says, but then laughs at the look she gives him. "C'mon. She's your girl, right? What kind of friend would I be if I..."
"Fuck off, Puck. I know you," she says, and he laughs even harder as she unlocks the door to her apartment. She hears some music playing, this songwriter Rachel's obsessed with at the moment, and then Rachel's rounding the corner to greet them. "Hey."
"Hi," Rachel says, smiling. She waits until Puck has his shoes off and has dropped his bag, then sticks out her hand. "I'm Rachel Berry. Pleased to meet you."
Santana knows the look on her face has to be kind of ridiculous, but like, what the fuck is up with Rachel? She's got manners and shit, but this isn't the 1800s.
Puck says, "Nice to meet you, too."
Rachel's blushing as Puck looks her up and down. Twice. It's enough to make Santana glare at him and make him stop.
"How was your flight?"
Puck shrugs one shoulder. "Fine. Really short. And there was this unaccompanied minor next to me who was fucking hilarious and let me play his PSP to show him the cheats for this shitty game I mastered when I was like 10."
Rachel glances at Santana. "Um. That's lovely." Santana pokes Rachel's cheek because she's being all cute right now. "I thought you may be hungry, so I made bruschetta and some chicken wraps."
When Rachel turns to head to the living room, and Puck raises his brow at Santana.
She knows, okay? Her girl's sexy as fuck and awesome. She doesn't need Puck to point it out.
She's not at all surprised that they end up drunk as fuck the first night he's there. The surprise is that they stayed at her place to do it. The last time he visited, he wanted to go out and fuck New York City girls in bathrooms of bars. Maybe he realized that since that plan was a bust last time, he might not fare any better this time. Whatever it is, the three of them venture out for a bottle of tequila and some limes, and pick up snacks, too. Puck pays, because he says he's staying for free so the least he can do is supply the alcohol. Santana likes that plan.
He's sitting on the chair and watching as Rachel laughs at something Santana said. She gets a kiss for it, and Santana wants to kick Puck in the balls for smirking like he does, as if he's never either kissed her himself, or seen her kiss a woman. Both of which he has. So the smirk is either because he's thinking like a dude right now, or because he sees something here - like the fact that Santana's ass over face in love with Rachel at this point - and is going to point it out to her the first time they're alone without Rachel around.
Then Rachel's hand settles onto Santana's thigh and Puck just shakes his head.
"Why are all the hot women lesbians?"
Rachel doesn't miss a beat and also isn't offended. "I'm not a lesbian."
Puck raises his brows. Santana kind of thought that since he knew Rachel previously had a boyfriend that he might know she wasn't solely into women. "No? Like...I mean, really?" he asks.
Santana gives him a shitty look for being a fucking dumbass, and flings one of her coasters at him, which hits him in the chest. Whatever, though, because he's never deserved it more.
"Quit trying to put your dick in my girlfriend. She's not interested."
He just grins at her, and Rachel's laughing and leaning over to kiss her. Santana gives Puck the finger when Rachel's got her eyes closed.
"Sucks for you, though," he says casually, then shrugs a shoulder. "Twice the competition."
It's Rachel who glares at him for implying this isn't a committed relationship, and when she says, "There's actually no competition," and then that conversation is dropped and they don't talk about it any more.
It's late as fuck when they go to bed, and Santana waits until she thinks Puck's asleep to do anything. Actually, she looks over the railing of the loft to make sure his eyes are closed, then slips back into bed, kisses Rachel awake, and pushes her hand into the girl's pajama pants.
"Shh," Santana orders, rolling her fingers gently against Rachel's clit. "Quiet, baby." Rachel lets out this soft little whimper and nods her head. But then she seems to remember that there's someone else in this apartment right now, and shoots Santana a pleading look. "I fucking love..." She presses her fingers into her really wet girlfriend (she thinks Rachel was like this before they went to bed, wonders if they'd have just gone all night without Rachel saying anything about it) and stalls her explanation. "I love you sticking up for this."
"Oh," Rachel breathes, and when Santana straddles her thigh, Rachel's hands push up beneath the shirt Santana's wearing. Clothes are fucking dumb, so Santana pulls her hand away and tugs Rachel's pants down her legs even as the girl whines in some kind of fucking sexy desperation.
And then spreads her legs automatically and Santana sets her hands on the inside of her girl's thighs, licks her lips and then takes off her own top.
... ... ...
She sits on Puck's stomach to wake him up, bites into her english muffin and flips through channels. Whatever. It's her apartment and her TV and if she wants to watch it, it's not her problem that he's crashing on her couch.
Rachel's still asleep and she didn't want to wake her up.
Puck just groans and lets out a breath, smiles at her a bit. He's obviously not pissed at her for this. He does steal half her english muffin, the dick.
And he's not saying anything about hearing she and Rachel last night, so she knows he didn't. If he had, he'd be telling her. Or her couch'd be a mess, 'cause there's no way he'd not jerk off to it.
"Sleep okay?" she asks. She does care, really.
"Yeah," he answers with his mouth full. "Rachel still in bed?" Santana nods and finds an episode of Rosanne on. She loves this bitch. "So, you're fuckin', like, in that, you know?"
Santana laughs, because he's stupid, but he's not wrong. She just shrugs her shoulder as she looks at the television, and Puck chuckles and pats her thigh.
- Don't Worry Your Pretty Little Heart [9/10]