Pezberry: You Could Do Better
Part Four (Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five)
Testing the side of her tea again and finding it still too hot to risk harming her tongue, she ran a hand through her hair while taking a sweep around the coffee shop. No one was very close to her. They shouldn't be bothered by a phone call…
But no. That would be playing into Santana's hands. She didn't deserve the concern.
…But Rachel wouldn't be Rachel if she didn't give people second chances. It would be hypocritical of her if she decided just now not to help out a fellow member of the glee club because of something they had done. If Rachel wanted everyone to think of glee as a family, she had to be the first one to demonstrate that sentiment. And there was no denying that there were many things that could happen to Santana if Rachel just left her outside by herself, no matter if she was still at Rachel's house or not.
Obviously, the right decision was already determined for her. She knew what she had to do, even if it was just to make sure Santana was out of the cold. Picking up her phone, she stared at the screen before opening her phonebook. Retrieving the number she needed, she pressed call, and waited.
It got picked up on the third ring.
Hearing only the hiss of connection, Rachel licked her lips. "…Santana?"
"What do you want?" The answering words were rough and low, masking if the owner of the voice was angry or upset.
At least she was still alive. Rachel made herself as neutral as she could, ignoring the way her heartbeat had sped up at the other girl's husky voice, "Hello, Santana. Are you at my house?"
"Why do you care?"
Rachel closed her eyes, sighing to herself. "We can talk about that later. Where are you?"
There was a pause, and she could hear Santana moving around. "'N your backseat. It's pretty boring, alone. At least you have a blanket."
"You're still in my car?"
"No, I crawled in through the window of your bedroom; yes, I'm in your car." The silent dumbass rang loud and clear.
"All… Right. How long are you planning on staying in there?"
Santana yawned. "However long until you tell me where you are."
Rachel fought a smile. She was not supposed to find Santana's attitude charming when she was still upset with her. Eying her tea and expecting a call from her dad at anytime, she knew it would be a good idea to get the other girl away from her house. "…Fine. The Starbucks near Jerry's. Will you be fine walking by yourself?"
"Don't get your panties in a bunch. I can take care of myself." The other girl sounded almost insulted.
Hearing a car door opening and closing told her Santana had stepped out, and Rachel blurted, "Make sure you lock it!"
"Chill, Berry. Got it covered. Jesus, who would want to steal a Prius, anyway?"
Not retorting with "Plenty of people!" because that would be petulant, Rachel almost sighed in relief when she heard the beep that told her she had another call. Talking to the cheerleader without being able to gauge her expression or body language was an exercise in patience. "Please hold on while I take this call. I'll be back as quickly as I can." Not waiting for an answer, she switched over, "Hi, Dad." Thank you.
"Hey honey, we're taking off now. You need a ride?"
Taking a tentative sip of her tea and finding it bearable and delicious, she took a bigger sip before answering, "No, that's all right, Dad. I actually ran into a classmate in Starbucks, so, uhm, I figured I'd stay a bit longer to talk with her." She made sure to put an emphasis on the gender of her friend. Since her fathers were not aware of her newfound bisexuality, she knew they would feel better about her meeting a girl instead of a boy. She disliked lying to her parents, but when she had to, she knew how to phrase the lie or lies in the best way possible.
"Do we know this girl?"
Unconsciously, Rachel could feel a blush start to warm her cheeks. "I'm not sure you've met her personally, but I know you know her. Santana Lopez. She sang 'Valerie' at Sectionals." And had been absolutely electric. So confident and… Sexy. Once she'd forced down the outrage of not being the one to have the solo, as well as dealing with… Other stressors, Rachel had been blown away by Santana's performance.
Her dad made an excited sound of recognition. "Ohh! That gorgeous girl with the marvelous bone structure and amazing voice! How wonderful. Why don't you invite her over for a duet some day? Or, better yet, since it's Friday, bring her home with you tonight?"
Almost staring at her phone in shock, Rachel couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Dad, no, I think she already has plans for the evening."
"You're not even going to ask her?"
"Jonathon," Rachel heard her daddy chide gently from the driver's seat, "Be reasonable."
Her dad sighed ruefully. "Alright, alright, fine. Just, let us know if plans change." He sounded hopeful.
Rachel shook her head. She highly doubted that was going to happen. "If they do, I will do so."
"Good. Alright, take care, and don't be afraid to call if you need a ride after all."
"Thank you, Dad. I shouldn't be out too late, however. Even though it is the weekend, I still need to get my eight hours of sleep, and with my rigorous morning workout schedule, I cannot afford to stay out at all hours."
Her dad chuckled. "We know, dear. Alright, I won't keep you any longer. Please tell Santana that we truly enjoyed her performance and cannot wait to see her in future ones."
"Hear hear!" her daddy added.
Rachel smiled. Her fathers were wonderful men. "I will gladly do that. Talk to you later, Dad, Daddy. Love you."
"We love you too. Bye."
Echoing one last goodbye, Rachel waited until her dad had hung up before switching back to Santana. Hopefully that hadn't been too long. "Santana? I'm very sorry about that. Do you know the way here?"
More wind interference met her than before, and when Santana spoke, it sounded like she was talking louder to be heard over it, "Ask me that in two minutes."
Two minutes? What did that mean? Surely Santana couldn't be that close already. It had taken Rachel about twenty minutes at a very brisk pace to make it when she did, so Santana had to be overestimating her ability. But before she could clarify what the cheerleader meant, a "Gotta go, Berry," was barked in her ear, and the line went dead.
No, that wasn't worrying. Debating whether or not to call Santana back, but knowing that had a high probability of annoying the girl which would just make things worse than they already were, Rachel sighed and set her phone down onto the table. Picking up her tea, she sat back in her chair and turned her gaze to the entrance.
…What was she doing? Truly? The girl she'd been crying because of not ten minutes earlier was supposedly going to waltz through that door in two minutes. Why was she sitting there, waiting for her? Shouldn't she be far away, somewhere where Santana couldn't, presumably, manipulate her? Was she falling farther into Santana's trap? Why the heck was she not allowing any space or time between them?
Because of the simple fact was that Rachel was scared. Scared of what Santana could do to her. What Santana wanted to do to her. Scared of the whole situation. If their encounter didn't end, there was no chance for things to be left out of control. As long as Santana was with her, she didn't have to think about the future.
Why did that sound so unhealthy in her mind?
She tightened her grip around the paper cup, trying to let the soothing taste of mint calm her. Wasn't really working, but she almost expected that. Without someone to discuss everything with, she'd only get her own side of things, and that could be a dangerous mire to get stuck in.
Whatever happened that evening, Rachel knew she was going to schedule a session with her therapist for the first available time. She wasn't as freaked out as when Shelby had come back into her life, so she didn't think she had to move her therapist back in, but she definitely could use some neutral advice. Make some sense of things…
Rachel started wondering if Santana's kisses with the possibility of more of them coming were worth what she was feeling when Santana entered, all red cheeks and windblown hair. Her eyes immediately zeroing in on Rachel, she gave her a small eyebrow raise before walking to the counter.
Blinking, Rachel pulled up her phone to check the current time and when their call had ended. Almost three minutes. Why did that not make her want to know how Santana did it?
Santana slid into the chair across from her, clutching a large coffee that smelled sickeningly sweet. As they stared at each other silently for a couple of seconds, Rachel keeping her chin up and Santana keeping her lips down, she wished her heart hadn't thumped loudly to make sure she knew the other girl was in her presence.
Finally, Santana narrowed her eyes. "I don't chase after just anyone, Berry," she remarked sharply, "So this damn well better be worth it."
She hadn't chased. She'd followed. There was a distinction. Rachel shook her head. "You tell me. Obviously there is something you want with me, or else you would have taken that opportunity to make your way home."
Santana rolled her eyes, bringing her coffee cup up to her mouth. "You're so dramatic, Berry." Taking a big sip, she leaned back in her seat, studying Rachel with dark eyes that gave nothing away.
Rachel met her gaze calmly, willing herself to stay quiet. Unlike Finn or Jesse who had never hesitated to tell her what was wrong or bothering them, she knew Santana, who was completely or close to being sober at this point, needed to do things on her own terms. Which honestly begged the question: why was Santana still bothering with her?
Rachel's gaze unconsciously wandered, taking Santana in. Her cheeks were losing their red wind-chill blush, and she had smoothed down her hair, probably with her hand. Her jacket was open, and as she reclined back, it fell back to frame her chest. Rachel had held those breasts. She'd felt them.
And Santana had wanted to feel hers.
That still surprised her. Well, not so much anymore. Not if her theory about Santana actually liking her was correct. And that theory had gained traction when Santana, just like Rachel, didn't seem willing to let the night end without some form of acceptable conclusion. She didn't know what acceptable to Santana was, and though it quite frankly scared her to think of… Dating the other girl, Rachel had realized that was due to the absurdity of the notion at face value. But the truth was that Santana was more than the HBIC Cheerio she worked hard to be.
Santana set down her coffee. "Tell me," she settled her elbows onto the table, resting forward on them, "What the hell are you doing here?" But before Rachel could ask her what she meant, she continued, "Why didn't you get the hell away from me? You didn't have to tell me where you were."
"That's… True," Rachel started slowly, "And to be truthful, I thought about ignoring you for the rest of the evening and weekend if need be. However, I hadn't realized you would be hiding in my car, so I worried that you were out in the cold."
"Okay, first of all," Santana shook her head, "I wasn't hiding. I was waiting. There's a difference, Berry. Santana Lopez does not hide."
Stifling her smile at the girl's use of third person, Rachel waited for the rest of the list.
Santana straightened. "And secondly, I wouldn't have frozen. I have a higher than normal body temperature."
Remembering how hot the other girl had been whenever she touched her bare skin, and even through her shirt, Rachel could believe it; she wished she had that physiology, as she tended to get cold quite easily. To bring herself back to the conversation, she asked, "Why were you waiting? If I recall correctly, and I do, you said you were 'over me'." She glared at Santana just enough to convey her disappointment.
Santana looked at her severely. "And you believed me?" she asked.
"Excuse me?" It wasn't Rachel's place to believe Santana or not! To decipher if she was telling the truth or lying. That was completely irresponsible to put the expectation onto someone else. Selfish. That's what it was. "You cannot surely be telling me that it was my responsibility to… To vet the validity of your statements! Due to our shared past history, it was quite reasonable of me to believe what you were saying."
"Hey! Berry, chill. No, I didn't expect you to not believe me. What I was not expecting was for you to throw one of your ridiculous diva tantrums and run like a fucking coward."
"Like you cared," Rachel retorted, starting to retreat into herself, the warmth of her tea doing nothing for her anymore.
Santana's mouth curled into a fierce sneer. "You're right. I didn't care," she snapped, her eyes daring Rachel to respond.
For the second time in an hour, Rachel felt like someone had socked her in the gut. No. Santana wasn't worth this.
"…But I did when I calmed down five minutes later."
What?
Her face impassive, Santana's dark eyes looked shuttered.
…This was probably the closest to an apology Rachel was going to get. However, that didn't make it all okay. "Well. Good for you. I guess," she glared down at her tea, not wanting to look at Santana in case she saw the beginnings of tears that had sprung up. "Though that doesn't really make me feel any better."
"God dammit, Berry. Do not do this self pity shit right now. I need you to listen to me. Or are you incapable of that?"
Rachel gritted her teeth, but looked up, shaking her head.
"Thank you." Sitting back in her chair, Santana let out a deep breath of air, annoyance written all over her face. She raked a hand through her hair, messing up some of the effort she had made before to smooth it down, tucking some of it behind her ear. She didn't take her eyes off of Rachel. "Okay, this is how it goes." Her mouth was a thin line, but her head was still held up proudly. "Berry, you are the most annoying person I know. You are loud, self centered, and it seems like your mouth never stops moving. It's distracting. You have no sense of fashion, and it's embarrassing being seen with you. Even now, when you're halfway decent. And it's because of the fact that you're you."
Santana's voice was so matter-of-fact that it took Rachel a second to understand what she was saying.
"But, and this is a big but," Santana spoke again, cutting through Rachel's instant affront, "For some reason, even with all of the shit I've done to you, you don't hate me."
"So?" Rachel spat, "That's supposed to mean something?"
"Yes." Santana nodded. "It does. To me."
Rachel couldn't believe this. "Well, I'm happy for you." Keeping her voice low enough so she didn't disturb any of the other customers, she still managed to put all of her fury in her tone, "But after this evening, don't expect things to stay that way."
To her complete surprise, Santana smirked in amusement. "This, right here," she nodded at Rachel, "Is why I can tolerate you."
Rachel gave up trying to predict Santana. There was no way she could even hope of understanding her. "And what is that?" she asked stiffly, picking up her tea again.
Santana smiled in satisfaction. Following Rachel's lead and picking up her coffee, she took a long sip. "You don't take shit from me. You never have. First, I used to find it incredibly annoying," Santana sighed, rolling her eyes and giving Rachel a pointed look, "A loser hobbit daring to talk back to me. I needed to crush that out of you.
"But no matter what I did: taking Finn's v-card, the X-rated drawings in the bathroom, the insults, you never gave in." The cheerleader inclined her head slightly, "And after Sectionals of last year, I started… Respecting you. A little. Still found you annoying as hell, but you were slightly more tolerable."
Mentally wincing at the mention of her and Finn's past, Rachel realized that this was probably the most real conversation she and Santana had ever had that was not aided by the influence of alcohol. But there was still something Santana was keeping back. "But that's not it, is it?" she asked, swallowing back some of her apprehension, "You don't just tolerate me, do you?"
Santana's eyebrows drew together. "What do you want me to say? That I love you?"
"No." Rachel shook her head, a sardonic smile curling on her lips, "I wouldn't expect that. Santana." She bit her lip, leaning forward. Giving Santana a soft smile, she lowered her voice, "Do you like me?"
Santana eyed her warily, looking like she was a second away from slipping into her HBIC persona. Finally, almost defiantly, she repeated, "What do you want me to say?"
Rachel found herself grinning, sitting back in her seat. Her heart flipped, and she shyly met Santana's gaze, "You just answered my question."
"What are - "
"You didn't say no." It was such a simple sentence, but she could see that her words made Santana relax. Leaning forward again, Rachel smiled, "It's okay. You don't have to say the words. I'm sure it's hard for you." Inside, her mind was doing flips.
Santana rolled her eyes, but an actual smile quirked the corners of her lips up. "You're insane. I think it's you who likes me. But I can't blame you. Who wouldn't want to get all up on this?" She proudly thrust out her chest, smirking at the wild blush that took over Rachel's face.
"Santana," Rachel coughed, quickly changing the subject to something she still really wanted to know, "What made you text me tonight?"
Instantly, Santana's good mood disappeared. Muttering under her breath, she snapped her gaze up to ensnare Rachel's, eyes smoldering as she scowled. "Puck and Finn got into a fight over who'd gone farthest with you."
Testing the side of her tea again and finding it still too hot to risk harming her tongue, she ran a hand through her hair while taking a sweep around the coffee shop. No one was very close to her. They shouldn't be bothered by a phone call…
But no. That would be playing into Santana's hands. She didn't deserve the concern.
…But Rachel wouldn't be Rachel if she didn't give people second chances. It would be hypocritical of her if she decided just now not to help out a fellow member of the glee club because of something they had done. If Rachel wanted everyone to think of glee as a family, she had to be the first one to demonstrate that sentiment. And there was no denying that there were many things that could happen to Santana if Rachel just left her outside by herself, no matter if she was still at Rachel's house or not.
Obviously, the right decision was already determined for her. She knew what she had to do, even if it was just to make sure Santana was out of the cold. Picking up her phone, she stared at the screen before opening her phonebook. Retrieving the number she needed, she pressed call, and waited.
It got picked up on the third ring.
Hearing only the hiss of connection, Rachel licked her lips. "…Santana?"
"What do you want?" The answering words were rough and low, masking if the owner of the voice was angry or upset.
At least she was still alive. Rachel made herself as neutral as she could, ignoring the way her heartbeat had sped up at the other girl's husky voice, "Hello, Santana. Are you at my house?"
"Why do you care?"
Rachel closed her eyes, sighing to herself. "We can talk about that later. Where are you?"
There was a pause, and she could hear Santana moving around. "'N your backseat. It's pretty boring, alone. At least you have a blanket."
"You're still in my car?"
"No, I crawled in through the window of your bedroom; yes, I'm in your car." The silent dumbass rang loud and clear.
"All… Right. How long are you planning on staying in there?"
Santana yawned. "However long until you tell me where you are."
Rachel fought a smile. She was not supposed to find Santana's attitude charming when she was still upset with her. Eying her tea and expecting a call from her dad at anytime, she knew it would be a good idea to get the other girl away from her house. "…Fine. The Starbucks near Jerry's. Will you be fine walking by yourself?"
"Don't get your panties in a bunch. I can take care of myself." The other girl sounded almost insulted.
Hearing a car door opening and closing told her Santana had stepped out, and Rachel blurted, "Make sure you lock it!"
"Chill, Berry. Got it covered. Jesus, who would want to steal a Prius, anyway?"
Not retorting with "Plenty of people!" because that would be petulant, Rachel almost sighed in relief when she heard the beep that told her she had another call. Talking to the cheerleader without being able to gauge her expression or body language was an exercise in patience. "Please hold on while I take this call. I'll be back as quickly as I can." Not waiting for an answer, she switched over, "Hi, Dad." Thank you.
"Hey honey, we're taking off now. You need a ride?"
Taking a tentative sip of her tea and finding it bearable and delicious, she took a bigger sip before answering, "No, that's all right, Dad. I actually ran into a classmate in Starbucks, so, uhm, I figured I'd stay a bit longer to talk with her." She made sure to put an emphasis on the gender of her friend. Since her fathers were not aware of her newfound bisexuality, she knew they would feel better about her meeting a girl instead of a boy. She disliked lying to her parents, but when she had to, she knew how to phrase the lie or lies in the best way possible.
"Do we know this girl?"
Unconsciously, Rachel could feel a blush start to warm her cheeks. "I'm not sure you've met her personally, but I know you know her. Santana Lopez. She sang 'Valerie' at Sectionals." And had been absolutely electric. So confident and… Sexy. Once she'd forced down the outrage of not being the one to have the solo, as well as dealing with… Other stressors, Rachel had been blown away by Santana's performance.
Her dad made an excited sound of recognition. "Ohh! That gorgeous girl with the marvelous bone structure and amazing voice! How wonderful. Why don't you invite her over for a duet some day? Or, better yet, since it's Friday, bring her home with you tonight?"
Almost staring at her phone in shock, Rachel couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Dad, no, I think she already has plans for the evening."
"You're not even going to ask her?"
"Jonathon," Rachel heard her daddy chide gently from the driver's seat, "Be reasonable."
Her dad sighed ruefully. "Alright, alright, fine. Just, let us know if plans change." He sounded hopeful.
Rachel shook her head. She highly doubted that was going to happen. "If they do, I will do so."
"Good. Alright, take care, and don't be afraid to call if you need a ride after all."
"Thank you, Dad. I shouldn't be out too late, however. Even though it is the weekend, I still need to get my eight hours of sleep, and with my rigorous morning workout schedule, I cannot afford to stay out at all hours."
Her dad chuckled. "We know, dear. Alright, I won't keep you any longer. Please tell Santana that we truly enjoyed her performance and cannot wait to see her in future ones."
"Hear hear!" her daddy added.
Rachel smiled. Her fathers were wonderful men. "I will gladly do that. Talk to you later, Dad, Daddy. Love you."
"We love you too. Bye."
Echoing one last goodbye, Rachel waited until her dad had hung up before switching back to Santana. Hopefully that hadn't been too long. "Santana? I'm very sorry about that. Do you know the way here?"
More wind interference met her than before, and when Santana spoke, it sounded like she was talking louder to be heard over it, "Ask me that in two minutes."
Two minutes? What did that mean? Surely Santana couldn't be that close already. It had taken Rachel about twenty minutes at a very brisk pace to make it when she did, so Santana had to be overestimating her ability. But before she could clarify what the cheerleader meant, a "Gotta go, Berry," was barked in her ear, and the line went dead.
No, that wasn't worrying. Debating whether or not to call Santana back, but knowing that had a high probability of annoying the girl which would just make things worse than they already were, Rachel sighed and set her phone down onto the table. Picking up her tea, she sat back in her chair and turned her gaze to the entrance.
…What was she doing? Truly? The girl she'd been crying because of not ten minutes earlier was supposedly going to waltz through that door in two minutes. Why was she sitting there, waiting for her? Shouldn't she be far away, somewhere where Santana couldn't, presumably, manipulate her? Was she falling farther into Santana's trap? Why the heck was she not allowing any space or time between them?
Because of the simple fact was that Rachel was scared. Scared of what Santana could do to her. What Santana wanted to do to her. Scared of the whole situation. If their encounter didn't end, there was no chance for things to be left out of control. As long as Santana was with her, she didn't have to think about the future.
Why did that sound so unhealthy in her mind?
She tightened her grip around the paper cup, trying to let the soothing taste of mint calm her. Wasn't really working, but she almost expected that. Without someone to discuss everything with, she'd only get her own side of things, and that could be a dangerous mire to get stuck in.
Whatever happened that evening, Rachel knew she was going to schedule a session with her therapist for the first available time. She wasn't as freaked out as when Shelby had come back into her life, so she didn't think she had to move her therapist back in, but she definitely could use some neutral advice. Make some sense of things…
Rachel started wondering if Santana's kisses with the possibility of more of them coming were worth what she was feeling when Santana entered, all red cheeks and windblown hair. Her eyes immediately zeroing in on Rachel, she gave her a small eyebrow raise before walking to the counter.
Blinking, Rachel pulled up her phone to check the current time and when their call had ended. Almost three minutes. Why did that not make her want to know how Santana did it?
Santana slid into the chair across from her, clutching a large coffee that smelled sickeningly sweet. As they stared at each other silently for a couple of seconds, Rachel keeping her chin up and Santana keeping her lips down, she wished her heart hadn't thumped loudly to make sure she knew the other girl was in her presence.
Finally, Santana narrowed her eyes. "I don't chase after just anyone, Berry," she remarked sharply, "So this damn well better be worth it."
She hadn't chased. She'd followed. There was a distinction. Rachel shook her head. "You tell me. Obviously there is something you want with me, or else you would have taken that opportunity to make your way home."
Santana rolled her eyes, bringing her coffee cup up to her mouth. "You're so dramatic, Berry." Taking a big sip, she leaned back in her seat, studying Rachel with dark eyes that gave nothing away.
Rachel met her gaze calmly, willing herself to stay quiet. Unlike Finn or Jesse who had never hesitated to tell her what was wrong or bothering them, she knew Santana, who was completely or close to being sober at this point, needed to do things on her own terms. Which honestly begged the question: why was Santana still bothering with her?
Rachel's gaze unconsciously wandered, taking Santana in. Her cheeks were losing their red wind-chill blush, and she had smoothed down her hair, probably with her hand. Her jacket was open, and as she reclined back, it fell back to frame her chest. Rachel had held those breasts. She'd felt them.
And Santana had wanted to feel hers.
That still surprised her. Well, not so much anymore. Not if her theory about Santana actually liking her was correct. And that theory had gained traction when Santana, just like Rachel, didn't seem willing to let the night end without some form of acceptable conclusion. She didn't know what acceptable to Santana was, and though it quite frankly scared her to think of… Dating the other girl, Rachel had realized that was due to the absurdity of the notion at face value. But the truth was that Santana was more than the HBIC Cheerio she worked hard to be.
Santana set down her coffee. "Tell me," she settled her elbows onto the table, resting forward on them, "What the hell are you doing here?" But before Rachel could ask her what she meant, she continued, "Why didn't you get the hell away from me? You didn't have to tell me where you were."
"That's… True," Rachel started slowly, "And to be truthful, I thought about ignoring you for the rest of the evening and weekend if need be. However, I hadn't realized you would be hiding in my car, so I worried that you were out in the cold."
"Okay, first of all," Santana shook her head, "I wasn't hiding. I was waiting. There's a difference, Berry. Santana Lopez does not hide."
Stifling her smile at the girl's use of third person, Rachel waited for the rest of the list.
Santana straightened. "And secondly, I wouldn't have frozen. I have a higher than normal body temperature."
Remembering how hot the other girl had been whenever she touched her bare skin, and even through her shirt, Rachel could believe it; she wished she had that physiology, as she tended to get cold quite easily. To bring herself back to the conversation, she asked, "Why were you waiting? If I recall correctly, and I do, you said you were 'over me'." She glared at Santana just enough to convey her disappointment.
Santana looked at her severely. "And you believed me?" she asked.
"Excuse me?" It wasn't Rachel's place to believe Santana or not! To decipher if she was telling the truth or lying. That was completely irresponsible to put the expectation onto someone else. Selfish. That's what it was. "You cannot surely be telling me that it was my responsibility to… To vet the validity of your statements! Due to our shared past history, it was quite reasonable of me to believe what you were saying."
"Hey! Berry, chill. No, I didn't expect you to not believe me. What I was not expecting was for you to throw one of your ridiculous diva tantrums and run like a fucking coward."
"Like you cared," Rachel retorted, starting to retreat into herself, the warmth of her tea doing nothing for her anymore.
Santana's mouth curled into a fierce sneer. "You're right. I didn't care," she snapped, her eyes daring Rachel to respond.
For the second time in an hour, Rachel felt like someone had socked her in the gut. No. Santana wasn't worth this.
"…But I did when I calmed down five minutes later."
What?
Her face impassive, Santana's dark eyes looked shuttered.
…This was probably the closest to an apology Rachel was going to get. However, that didn't make it all okay. "Well. Good for you. I guess," she glared down at her tea, not wanting to look at Santana in case she saw the beginnings of tears that had sprung up. "Though that doesn't really make me feel any better."
"God dammit, Berry. Do not do this self pity shit right now. I need you to listen to me. Or are you incapable of that?"
Rachel gritted her teeth, but looked up, shaking her head.
"Thank you." Sitting back in her chair, Santana let out a deep breath of air, annoyance written all over her face. She raked a hand through her hair, messing up some of the effort she had made before to smooth it down, tucking some of it behind her ear. She didn't take her eyes off of Rachel. "Okay, this is how it goes." Her mouth was a thin line, but her head was still held up proudly. "Berry, you are the most annoying person I know. You are loud, self centered, and it seems like your mouth never stops moving. It's distracting. You have no sense of fashion, and it's embarrassing being seen with you. Even now, when you're halfway decent. And it's because of the fact that you're you."
Santana's voice was so matter-of-fact that it took Rachel a second to understand what she was saying.
"But, and this is a big but," Santana spoke again, cutting through Rachel's instant affront, "For some reason, even with all of the shit I've done to you, you don't hate me."
"So?" Rachel spat, "That's supposed to mean something?"
"Yes." Santana nodded. "It does. To me."
Rachel couldn't believe this. "Well, I'm happy for you." Keeping her voice low enough so she didn't disturb any of the other customers, she still managed to put all of her fury in her tone, "But after this evening, don't expect things to stay that way."
To her complete surprise, Santana smirked in amusement. "This, right here," she nodded at Rachel, "Is why I can tolerate you."
Rachel gave up trying to predict Santana. There was no way she could even hope of understanding her. "And what is that?" she asked stiffly, picking up her tea again.
Santana smiled in satisfaction. Following Rachel's lead and picking up her coffee, she took a long sip. "You don't take shit from me. You never have. First, I used to find it incredibly annoying," Santana sighed, rolling her eyes and giving Rachel a pointed look, "A loser hobbit daring to talk back to me. I needed to crush that out of you.
"But no matter what I did: taking Finn's v-card, the X-rated drawings in the bathroom, the insults, you never gave in." The cheerleader inclined her head slightly, "And after Sectionals of last year, I started… Respecting you. A little. Still found you annoying as hell, but you were slightly more tolerable."
Mentally wincing at the mention of her and Finn's past, Rachel realized that this was probably the most real conversation she and Santana had ever had that was not aided by the influence of alcohol. But there was still something Santana was keeping back. "But that's not it, is it?" she asked, swallowing back some of her apprehension, "You don't just tolerate me, do you?"
Santana's eyebrows drew together. "What do you want me to say? That I love you?"
"No." Rachel shook her head, a sardonic smile curling on her lips, "I wouldn't expect that. Santana." She bit her lip, leaning forward. Giving Santana a soft smile, she lowered her voice, "Do you like me?"
Santana eyed her warily, looking like she was a second away from slipping into her HBIC persona. Finally, almost defiantly, she repeated, "What do you want me to say?"
Rachel found herself grinning, sitting back in her seat. Her heart flipped, and she shyly met Santana's gaze, "You just answered my question."
"What are - "
"You didn't say no." It was such a simple sentence, but she could see that her words made Santana relax. Leaning forward again, Rachel smiled, "It's okay. You don't have to say the words. I'm sure it's hard for you." Inside, her mind was doing flips.
Santana rolled her eyes, but an actual smile quirked the corners of her lips up. "You're insane. I think it's you who likes me. But I can't blame you. Who wouldn't want to get all up on this?" She proudly thrust out her chest, smirking at the wild blush that took over Rachel's face.
"Santana," Rachel coughed, quickly changing the subject to something she still really wanted to know, "What made you text me tonight?"
Instantly, Santana's good mood disappeared. Muttering under her breath, she snapped her gaze up to ensnare Rachel's, eyes smoldering as she scowled. "Puck and Finn got into a fight over who'd gone farthest with you."