Fic: Someone No One Can Touch
Author's Note: Still trying to work out my issues with Santana's storyline...
The last thing Santana expected after her disastrous first week back at school was to be cornered by Rachel Berry after glee rehearsal on Friday. “Keep moving, Yeti,” she said, refusing to look at her.
“Santana, I need to speak with you.”
“You really don’t,” Santana assured her. “Go talk to Finn. He’s supposed to listen to your crazy.”
“Santana.”
“Oh my god, Rachel. What?” Santana exploded, nearly flinging the other girl against the lockers.
Rachel winced but recovered quickly. “I feel that you and I have found ourselves in similar situations-”
“Rachel, I get it. But I’m not helping you get back in everyone’s good graces. Maybe you should talk to Quinn.”
“Quinn?” Rachel repeated, and Santana sighed.
“She’s just as selfish and short-sighted as you are,” she snapped, and Rachel frowned.
“Are you sure?” she asked contemplatively, and Santana snorted.
“I’m not here because I decided I couldn’t handle the pressures of being head Cheerio,” she said, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice.
“Did you really get a boob job?” Rachel asked, and Santana couldn’t do anything but roll her eyes.
“Believe whatever you like, Ru Paul.”
“Well. I believe you’re not as foolish as that,” Rachel decided, and Santana looked at her like she’d never seen her before.
“Santana!” Brittany called. “Are we leaving?”
“Did you have something to say or what, Rachel?” Santana asked, shocked that Rachel Berry would have believed her if she’d denied getting surgery, but the other girl shook her head.
“Go ahead. Sorry I bothered you,” Rachel muttered, and Santana sighed but shouldered her backpack and turned to catch up with Brittany.
“Why were you talking to Rachel?” Brittany asked.
“She said she wanted to tell me something. Guess she changed her mind,” Santana shrugged off.
“Hey. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Britt. You know me.”
“I know. That’s why I’m asking.”
“I’m fine,” Santana repeated, but when Brittany put her arm around her waist, she instinctively leaned into her.
“Come home with me. My sister’s got soccer practice.”
“Sure,” Santana agreed, grateful for the invitation to a quiet house.
“Are you still upset about Quinn?” Brittany asked.
“I don’t want to talk about that, Britt. Can’t we just…take a break?”
“Okay,” the blonde agreed, and she kissed the top of Santana’s head as they left the school.
They spent a few quiet, blissful hours on the couch in Brittany’s basement, Santana’s head in Brittany’s lap and the Yellow Submarine soundtrack on Brittany’s dad’s record player. “Coach will get over it,” Brittany offered after a while.
“I know it. She needs me just as much as she needs Quinn,” Santana muttered.
“Do you miss being captain?”
“Yes,” she admitted. “I liked being the one in charge, the one Coach looked to to keep things in line. I was good at it.”
“You were,” Brittany agreed. “Quinn was good at it too.”
“But Quinn got pregnant!”
“And you didn’t do anything?”
“I didn’t!” Santana sat up, raging. “All I did was gain a few pounds, and now Coach believes Quinn when she says I got a boob job!”
“You let her,” Brittany murmured, and Santana slumped against the couch. “It’s okay, Santana. You’re a good friend.”
“A better friend than she deserves.”
“Hey. You did tell Jacob that she was pregnant.”
“Yeah, well. She should have told me. I shouldn’t have had to find out about it at glee rehearsal. From Puck. Anyway, it’s not like I made it up.”
“That’s true,” Brittany said thoughtfully. “I wish Quinn didn’t have to hurt you to get her spot back on the squad.”
“Yeah,” Santana muttered. Brittany pulled her back into her lap, and she settled against her friend. “Quinn and I hung out a lot, while you were on vacation.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. I was lonely. She was lonely. Guess it didn’t really mean anything to her.”
“I bet it did, San. But Quinn’s never been very good at having friends. She’s…scared.”
“Scared?”
“I think so. Like you don’t want anyone to know the real you. She doesn’t either. She wants to be the perfect head cheerleader.”
“And what do I want to be?”
“Someone no one can touch.”
“I let you touch me,” Santana muttered, and Brittany smiled and leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead.
“I must be pretty special, then.”
“You are,” Santana breathed, looking up at her. “Really, Britt.”
Brittany smiled serenely and smoothed Santana’s hair back from her face. “I know,” she said, and Santana laughed.
The last thing Santana expected after her disastrous first week back at school was to be cornered by Rachel Berry after glee rehearsal on Friday. “Keep moving, Yeti,” she said, refusing to look at her.
“Santana, I need to speak with you.”
“You really don’t,” Santana assured her. “Go talk to Finn. He’s supposed to listen to your crazy.”
“Santana.”
“Oh my god, Rachel. What?” Santana exploded, nearly flinging the other girl against the lockers.
Rachel winced but recovered quickly. “I feel that you and I have found ourselves in similar situations-”
“Rachel, I get it. But I’m not helping you get back in everyone’s good graces. Maybe you should talk to Quinn.”
“Quinn?” Rachel repeated, and Santana sighed.
“She’s just as selfish and short-sighted as you are,” she snapped, and Rachel frowned.
“Are you sure?” she asked contemplatively, and Santana snorted.
“I’m not here because I decided I couldn’t handle the pressures of being head Cheerio,” she said, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice.
“Did you really get a boob job?” Rachel asked, and Santana couldn’t do anything but roll her eyes.
“Believe whatever you like, Ru Paul.”
“Well. I believe you’re not as foolish as that,” Rachel decided, and Santana looked at her like she’d never seen her before.
“Santana!” Brittany called. “Are we leaving?”
“Did you have something to say or what, Rachel?” Santana asked, shocked that Rachel Berry would have believed her if she’d denied getting surgery, but the other girl shook her head.
“Go ahead. Sorry I bothered you,” Rachel muttered, and Santana sighed but shouldered her backpack and turned to catch up with Brittany.
“Why were you talking to Rachel?” Brittany asked.
“She said she wanted to tell me something. Guess she changed her mind,” Santana shrugged off.
“Hey. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Britt. You know me.”
“I know. That’s why I’m asking.”
“I’m fine,” Santana repeated, but when Brittany put her arm around her waist, she instinctively leaned into her.
“Come home with me. My sister’s got soccer practice.”
“Sure,” Santana agreed, grateful for the invitation to a quiet house.
“Are you still upset about Quinn?” Brittany asked.
“I don’t want to talk about that, Britt. Can’t we just…take a break?”
“Okay,” the blonde agreed, and she kissed the top of Santana’s head as they left the school.
They spent a few quiet, blissful hours on the couch in Brittany’s basement, Santana’s head in Brittany’s lap and the Yellow Submarine soundtrack on Brittany’s dad’s record player. “Coach will get over it,” Brittany offered after a while.
“I know it. She needs me just as much as she needs Quinn,” Santana muttered.
“Do you miss being captain?”
“Yes,” she admitted. “I liked being the one in charge, the one Coach looked to to keep things in line. I was good at it.”
“You were,” Brittany agreed. “Quinn was good at it too.”
“But Quinn got pregnant!”
“And you didn’t do anything?”
“I didn’t!” Santana sat up, raging. “All I did was gain a few pounds, and now Coach believes Quinn when she says I got a boob job!”
“You let her,” Brittany murmured, and Santana slumped against the couch. “It’s okay, Santana. You’re a good friend.”
“A better friend than she deserves.”
“Hey. You did tell Jacob that she was pregnant.”
“Yeah, well. She should have told me. I shouldn’t have had to find out about it at glee rehearsal. From Puck. Anyway, it’s not like I made it up.”
“That’s true,” Brittany said thoughtfully. “I wish Quinn didn’t have to hurt you to get her spot back on the squad.”
“Yeah,” Santana muttered. Brittany pulled her back into her lap, and she settled against her friend. “Quinn and I hung out a lot, while you were on vacation.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. I was lonely. She was lonely. Guess it didn’t really mean anything to her.”
“I bet it did, San. But Quinn’s never been very good at having friends. She’s…scared.”
“Scared?”
“I think so. Like you don’t want anyone to know the real you. She doesn’t either. She wants to be the perfect head cheerleader.”
“And what do I want to be?”
“Someone no one can touch.”
“I let you touch me,” Santana muttered, and Brittany smiled and leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead.
“I must be pretty special, then.”
“You are,” Santana breathed, looking up at her. “Really, Britt.”
Brittany smiled serenely and smoothed Santana’s hair back from her face. “I know,” she said, and Santana laughed.