Fic: Lost in the Sounds
When he wakes up for school, his phone is on the floor, and he’s forgotten about the text, and it’s not until Friday afternoon, as he’s getting suited up in the locker room for that night’s game-against McKinley-that he remembers. He sits and digs his phone out of his bag and checks the text again. “Fuck you,” it still says, and he sighs, throwing the phone back into his bag. There’s no time to figure out what the matter is before he sees her.
While he and his teammates are warming up, he gets tackled, hard, to the ground by three people, and when he manages to roll out from underneath the pig pile, he laughs to see three familiar grinning faces. Mike offers a hand and pulls him up, and Finn whacks him on the back, while Puck pushes his head. They don’t actually say anything, but the smiles and the punches are better than a grunted, “Hey, how’s it going?” and after a moment, the three McKinley players troop off to the visitors’ locker room, and he rejoins his team.
The game is over far too soon, and McKinley just ekes out a victory, and he really can’t understand why they thought letting Artie play would be a good idea-or even…legal. But he’s glad to see his former glee club teammate, as they all shake hands afterward, and then he looks across the field and sees her, standing by herself, pom poms at her feet, familiar scowl firmly in place on her face.
Sighing, he jogs over to say hello, but before he gets to her, Brittany flings herself at him, and he laughs and catches her and happily accepts her chaste friendly kiss. “You shouldn’t have transferred,” she scolds, but he just shrugs and hugs her again.
He looks over Brittany’s shoulder, and suddenly she’s not there anymore, and he pulls back, frowning. “Where’s Santana?” he asks, the first words he’s spoken all day, and Brittany turns.
“She’s right-” She trails off, baffled to find her friend disappeared. She looks back at him, biting her lip, and he sighs.
“I’ll find her,” he decides, and she nods.
He jogs off the field, toward the buses, and that’s where he finds her, sitting on the curb. Wordlessly, he sits down beside her, and she doesn’t even react. But this is normal for her, for them, so he just sits with her until she turns and shoves him. He frowns at her, and she explodes. “Why the fuck did you leave?”
“We had to move,” he says quietly, and her head drops.
“She’s dating Artie,” she tells him.
“Why?” he asks, actually shocked.
“Because she wanted to date me, and I was a bitch to her. But now I think she likes him.”
“She doesn’t like him better than she likes you,” he insists, and she shoves him again. “Jesus. Good thing I still have my pads on,” he mutters, but she only rolls her eyes.
“How do you fucking know?”
“Because she’s Brittany, and you’re Santana, and that’s all anyone needs to know,” he says, even though he knows she’ll hate the way it sounds.
“Fuck you,” she spits, so he puts an arm around her shoulders.
“In your dreams,” he teases, and she barks a laugh, but it’s enough for him.
“You’re an asshole,” she mutters, and he grins.
“I miss you too,” he tells her, and they sit on the curb together until the football players and Cheerios show up at the buses.
He gets up to punch the guys and hug Brittany again, and then he pulls Santana to her feet and pushes her toward her best friend. “Go on,” he urges, and she clenches her jaw.
“San, you’ll sit in the back with me this time, won’t you?” Brittany asks hopefully, and Santana nods slowly.
She lets Brittany pull her toward the bus, but she turns back once to look at him. “Be good,” he tells her, and she smirks.
“Later, Matt,” is all she’ll say, but he knows what she means. They’ve never needed many words to talk to each other.
He stands and watches the buses leave, and Brittany hangs out the window to wave, which makes him laugh, and then she’s briefly replaced by Santana, who flips him the bird and then waves, something that could maybe be a smile on her face.
He grins all the way back to the locker room.
***
She hadn’t exactly planned on ending up here, especially not now, but she’d had to get out, so she’d taken her dad’s keys and not even looked back. Her phone, lying in the cup holder, has been vibrating nonstop since about midnight, but she doesn't even care enough to glance at it. She knows her parents are furious; she knows they probably have Brittany and Puck after her, but it doesn’t matter.
Sighing, she pulls up to the unfamiliar house and cuts the engine. Once the headlights have died, she looks up at the windows, displeased that she hasn’t learned which one is his yet. Just as she's about to get out of the car, the front door opens, and she freezes. But Matt’s head pops out, and she lets out a breath before climbing out of the car.
“Britt’s been texting,” he says, ushering her inside. “What’s going on?”
“I needed to leave,” she says shortly, and he just nods.
He leads her down to the basement, and she flings herself on the old couch and hides her face in her arms. “Santana,” he says quietly.
“Shut up. I came over here because you never talk,” she says, and he snorts.
But he doesn’t argue, and she loves him for it. When he sits down next to the couch, she nudges his back with her knee, and he punches her arm. After a few minutes of blissful silence, he quietly asks, “Can I tell Britt you’re here?”
“No,” she says shortly.
“Santana-”
“Shut up.”
“I’m telling her you’re here,” he says defiantly, and she raises her head but finds she doesn’t have it in her to argue.
He rewards her compliance with several more minutes of silence, even letting her be the one to break it. “She’s still fucking dating Artie,” she explodes.
Matt says nothing, and she rolls over to look down at him. “I don’t want to date her, but why is she dating Artie?”
“You don’t want to date her,” he says neutrally.
“Of course not. Dating is for chumps.”
“You’re a chump,” he teases, and she knees him in the back. “San, lemme talk for just a second.”
He turns to look up at her, and when she doesn’t protest, he goes on. “You’re in love with Brittany. That’s why you don’t want her to date Artie. It’s that simple.”
“Nothing is that fucking simple,” she mutters, putting her face in her arms again.
“You and Brittany are that fucking simple,” he shoots back.
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t.”
“Yes. I do.”
He doesn't say anything else, just gets up and retrieves a blanket from the downstairs closet. “Tell your mom where you are before you fall asleep, okay?”
“My phone’s in the car,” she protests, so he tosses his onto the couch.
She rolls her eyes but picks it up. He grins. “I’ll have Sabrina wake you up for waffles in the morning. She’ll be excited to see you.”
In spite of herself, she smiles, and he reaches out and taps her fist with his. “Get some sleep. You’ll need the rest before you declare your love.”
“Oh, you are so fucking hilarious.”
“I know,” he nods, and he winks at her before he heads upstairs.
“You know I only like you when you don’t talk!” she calls after him.
“I know,” he replies, and she shook her head. “Text your mom,” he reminds her, before flipping off the lights.
“Safe at Matt’s,” she types out obediently, sends the message, and sets the phone on the floor.
A few minutes later, in the quiet of the Rutherfords’ basement, a blanket that smells like Matt’s clean t-shirts pulled put to her chin, she falls asleep.
***
She’s at the kitchen table with Matt’s little sister, yammering away cheerfully as she makes a mess of her waffles, in her lap when the doorbell rings. Matt looks over the sports section at her, sleepy eyes blinking behind his glasses, and she sighs. Mrs. Rutherford has been on the phone with her mother all morning, and she knows no one is happy with her, but she wouldn’t have expected her parents to come all the way out here just to yell at her.
But when Matt’s dad reappears in the kitchen with two other people who are clearly not her parents, all she can do is stare. “Hey,” Mike says, and Matt jumps out of his chair to hug his friend.
“Mike!” Sabrina shrieks, and Santana’s lap is abandoned as the Rutherfords greet their visitor.
Santana looks to Mike’s right, and Tina offers her a friendly smile. “Brittany called this morning,” she explains. “She wanted to come yell at you herself, but she’s watching Joanna.”
“I see,” Santana says evenly.
“Hello,” Sabrina says curiously, noticing Tina.
“Sabs, this is Tina,” Mike says with a smile, and Sabrina nods slowly.
“Is she your girlfriend?” the little girl asks critically, and Mike nods. “Nice to meet you,” she says politely, and Tina grinningly shakes her proffered hand.
“So. What’s this all about, anyway?” Santana demands, short on patience and tired of being confused.
“Britt was worried about you. Puck too-he called last night,” Mike says gently, and Santana looks away.
She’s not used to all this attention, but she’s not entirely sure it’s unwelcome. “Plus, we missed Matt,” Tina adds, and Matt grins.
A few minutes later, they’re all sitting around in the basement, Santana on the couch with her knees pulled up to her chest, Tina beside her, and Mike and Matt bouncing a tennis ball between them on the floor. “You know, we’ve noticed you’ve been extra pleasant lately,” Tina says eventually, and Santana snorts.
“Remember, we told you we’d be your friends,” Mike adds, looking up. Matt bounces the ball off his head, and Tina and Santana laugh.
“Who says I need friends?” Santana scowls, so Matt bounces the ball off her head.
“I don’t know, maybe you showing up at my house in the middle of the night,” he says.
She picks up the ball and whips it at him, and he laughs and rubs his arm. “Does she like him?” she asks, looking at Tina.
“She likes that he wants her to be his girlfriend,” Tina says, and Santana rolls her eyes.
“Santana, she wanted you first,” Mike puts in.
“No one wants me first,” she mutters. Not Puck, not Finn, not that towheaded idiot she’d fooled around with a few times to try to distract herself from everything. Not Sue Sylvester or Will Schuester either.
“Brittany does,” Matt insists.
“She’s followed you around since third grade,” Tina says.
“You’re her friends,” she says flatly. “She talks to you about me?”
“She told me about what happened when we were doing the duets project,” Mike says.
“But we can be your friends too, Santana,” Tina tells her.
Santana just shakes her head. “This is shit.”
“Talk to her tonight,” Tina urges.
“What if I fuck it up?” she blurts, immediately hating herself for revealing that much to any of these people.
“You will,” Matt assures her, and she tries to kick him, but he moves out of her way.
“It probably won’t be easy,” Mike says sagely, “but she loves you, yeah?”
“She does?”
“Of course she does,” three voices chorus.
“And you love her,” Matt adds, a small, infuriatingly smug smile on his lips.
“You’re going to tell her tonight,” Tina decides.
“If we have to drag you over to her house ourselves,” Mike grins.
Matt nods. Santana can’t figure out whose lights to punch out first, so her fists stay clenched against her legs. Eventually she leans over onto Tina’s shoulder. “She’s still dating Artie,” she whispers feebly.
“You need to tell her how you feel,” Mike counters, and with a sigh, Santana surrenders, even letting Tina hug her closer.
All this attention, from these unlikely people, has definitely not been unwelcome. Not that she’ll ever tell them that.
***
Of course, she can’t actually go over to Brittany’s that night, because as soon as she gets home, her parents ground her, and she just sighs and trudges to her room, not even bothering to yell that she’s seventeen for fuck’s sake, they can’t ground her anymore, because there’s no point. She flops onto the bed and puts her face in the pillow, deciding to ignore everything until she has to go back to school on Monday.
So naturally, within minutes, there’s a small hand tugging on her arm and a lispy voice asking her to come play, and Gabriel is only three, so she shouldn’t snap at him, but it is damn hard to pretend she’s glad to see him. Then again, sitting on the floor and playing with his trains with him distracts her from thinking about Brittany, so maybe she is glad to see him.
But when he crawls into her lap later with her old, battered copy of Buenas Noches, Luna, she almost starts to cry. Still, he has the book memorized, so she merely holds it open while he recites the story, turning the pages for him and hoping he won’t notice that his sister is crying. When they finish the story, Gabriel just sits with her until their father comes to take him to bed. He notices the tears on his daughter’s face, but he knows her and pretends he doesn’t as he carries the little boy out of her room.
She’s only alone again for five minutes before someone else-someone much taller-darkens her doorway, and she hastily wipes her tears away with the back of her hand. When she sees who her visitor is, she flings a sneaker at him. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters, catching the shoe and then dropping it. “Nice to see you too.”
“Who the hell let you in here?”
“Your mother,” he smirks.
“Go away.”
“You don’t want me to go away.”
“Actually, that’s pretty much the only thing I want right now,” she says, but he just keeps smirking at her.
“Come on. You’re a mess these days. I’m gonna fix it.”
“I’m not sleeping with you.”
“All right. I’ll think of another way to fix it,” he deadpans, and she laughs in spite of herself. “There it is.” He cautiously sits on the end of her bed, and when she doesn’t claw his eyes out of his face, he relaxes.
“You talk to Mike?”
“And Matt. I can get Britt to come over here, if you want.”
She shakes her head, drawing her knees up to her chest. He pulls out his phone. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” he lies badly, but he types out a message before she can wrest the phone away from him. “S needs to talk. Be at hers in 10,” she reads, and she punches his shoulder as hard as she can.
“I don’t fucking need you to talk to my best friend for me.”
“I don’t know if you know what you need right now, Santana,” he says, suddenly serious, and she hates his sympathy more than anything.
She tries to hit him, but he wraps strong arms around her, and caught like that, there’s only one thing she can do. She hides her face in his t-shirt and cries.
***
She stops crying after a minute, but she keeps her face in his t-shirt until she’s sure she won’t start again. He smells like old tobacco masked badly by Axe body spray, and even though it’s not exactly a pleasant smell, it is familiar, and she takes what comfort she can from it. His hand is clumsily rubbing her back, and as she pulls away, she realizes how awkward he feels. They’ve been friends since they were born, practically-and something more than friends since they were thirteen-but she’s never let him see her this upset. When she gets this upset she goes to Brittany. The tears threaten again with that thought, but she manages to keep herself together and look up at him.
“Sorry,” she mumbles, but he just grins sheepishly.
“No problem. I’ll get outta your hair before Britts shows up,” he says, getting to his feet. “Just, you know. You’re not alone, San. No matter what happens.”
“Thanks,” she says, unable to meet his eyes. She can’t start crying again. She can’t.
He puts his hand on her shoulder, squeezes it quickly, and turns to head down the stairs. For a while, she sits on the edge of her bed, staring at Buenas Noches, Luna still on the floor. Gabriel usually asks her to read Donde viven los monstruos-it’s their favorite-and she wonders idly what had made him ask for that story tonight.
“Santana,” a voice calls urgently from her doorway, and she looks up.
There she is, in McKinley sweats and her Cheerios jacket, her hair in the messiest of ponytails, but to Santana, she’s hardly looked lovelier. “Hey, Britt,” she says around the growing lump in her throat.
Brittany crosses the room lightning fast and sits on the bed next to her, and Santana can’t stand the worried look in her eyes. “What did I do?” she asks quietly, and Santana can only shake her head.
“It’s me,” she chokes, tears already spilling onto her cheeks. “It’s me. It’s me. It’s always me.”
“What’s you?” Brittany asks quietly, slipping her arm around Santana’s waist.
“I ran away when you asked me to…sing with you. And then you… You wanted him.”
“I wanted you. I’ve always wanted you,” Brittany says, and she presses a soft kiss to Santana’s temple.
Once again, Santana falls apart. But this time, the person who can always put her back together is right by her side.