(A/N): So... I've been dying to write Santana stuff. This is what came out. I enjoyed it. Set right after BIOTA. Well, actually, kinda in the middle of it. Two days after the party more like. Anyway... read on my awesome-tastical readers! Read, review, ENJOY! =D
Disclaimer: NO GLEE FOR YOU! *Soup Nazi Voice* (I'm pretty sure that I stole that from Appleinn4, also... so, I'm writing a disclaimer for my disclaimer?)
I heard a loud, impatient knock on my door, and I groaned into my couch pillow. Really? I thought to myself exasperatedly. Someone has to come and knock like fucking thunder when I have the worst hangover of my life?
"Coming!" I called out roughly, my voice cracking from lack of use. I heaved myself off of the couch, wincing at the head rush. I heard another, (and, if possible) louder knock. "I said I was coming!" I yelled, whimpering at the pounding in my head.
"Well, hurry your hobbit ass up!" Growled a distinctly female voice. I stopped for a second, not recognizing who was at the door. "Just open the fucking door, Frodo! I know you're right there; I can smell your cheap hair gel!" She yelled again, and I started to open the door. "Honestly, it's worse than Mr. Schue's…"
The door swung open to reveal a Latina girl with a cynical look on her face.
"Uhm…?" I just stared at her, not comprehending what she was doing at my house at – I looked at my watch – 6 a.m. on a Sunday. I guess that it wasn't her fault that my hangover had lasted for two days (so far).
"Mornin' to you too, sweetcheeks," she said sarcastically, looking at me expectantly. "Well, aren't you going to invite me in? Or did your manners die with your brain cells? I hear booze does that…" I just stared at her, dumbfounded. She groaned, pushing past me – into my own house, did I mention that? – and looked around critically. "You can pick your jaw up off of the carpet. It's not like you've never seen a hot female before," she snapped, adjusting her shirt and flipping her hair.
Suddenly, I recognized her.
"Wait… you're from Rachel's party the other night… right?" I asked slowly, eyeing her.
"Give the boy a prize! He's figured out how to remember a face!" She exclaimed, smirking at me.
"Can you please keep your voice down?" I begged quietly, bringing my hands up to massage my temples. She just grinned more broadly. "How are you not like this?" I asked her incredulously. "You drank just as much as me – if not more!"
"One of the beauties of drinking every weekend," she shrugged, still looking around my living room.
"You're not looking for something to steal… are you?" I asked unsurely, watching her apprehensively.
She got a dark grin on her face.
"Not yet. I'm saving that decision for later,"
"Ah… I see," I said. I then pointed to a painting above my mantelpiece. "I suggest going for that; it's original artwork - priceless."
She nodded, looking at it critically. "I'll keep that in mind…" she trailed off. She turned back to me, as though seeing me for the first time. "Now, for what I came here for…" she started striding towards me.
I threw my hands up in surrender. "Please, don't rape me! I'm gay!"
She snorted, but kept walking. When she was a foot in front of me, she pulled back her fist, and swung it around to connect solidly with my face.
I'm not going to say that I did a cartoonish turn-around, or wound up on the ground, but damn. That girl packed a punch.
"What the hell was that for?" I yelled, wincing at my volume. I rubbed my tender cheek, looking at her for an explanation.
She looked so smug; it ticked me off.
"That was for breaking Kurt's heart," she said simply. She turned, and started to walk back to the door. "I might be back for that painting," she added as she reached the door.
"Wait, what?" I asked, my head aching from my hangover, her right-hook, and her puzzling explanation.
She rolled her eyes, and started reaching for the door handle again. I strode over to her, grabbing her hand on the knob, pushing the door back closed.
"What the hell are you talking about? Who the hell are you? And how did you get my address?" I asked determinedly, sticking out my chin. I was going for 'intimidating', but she just laughed.
"Ooooh, so the little boy knows how to act tough," I just raised an eyebrow at her, telling her to continue. She sighed, but went on. "I'm talking about your stunt with Manhands. I'm Santana Lopez. And, as for your last question… I have my ways,"
I just shook my head at her disbelievingly.
"Who – or what – is 'Manhands'?" I asked, starting with most cryptic answer.
"Rachel fucking Berry; that's who!" She growled, ripping her hand out from under mine.
Gosh; mood swings. Maybe she was PMS-ing.
"What about Rachel?" I asked, walking over to my couch. I flopped back down, then gestured for her to sit in the recliner across from me.
She perched herself on the edge, looking at me angrily.
"You fucking made out with her! Right in front of Kurt's face!" She yelled at me. "And, if what that boy says is true – and I have no reason to believe that he's lying – he already told you that he liked you!" She looked at me questioningly, and I nodded in confirmation of that statement.
She just scowled deeper. "I don't know if you guys just don't have hearts at that prep school," she held up her hand when I tried to cut her off. "But Kurt is sensitive. He's fucking fragile! Do you know how much boy experience he's had?" I shook my head. "Well, all that happened is that he crushed on Hudson last year, and that ended bad –"
"Wait, Finn Hudson? As in, his stepbrother?" I asked, shocked.
"No shit, Sherlock! Hasn't he told you anything?" I just looked down, ashamed. Kurt and I were always talking; we just never really said anything. "He got his heart broken – from what I gather, Finn called him a fag. Not a huge deal to me, but it hurt his ego or whatever…" she rolled her eyes a bit at Kurt's 'sensitivity'.
"Anyway, and now he has to watch you swap spit with the other hobbit; the one who stole his first love!" Santana steamed at me. "You better have a pretty damn good excuse, Frodo!"
"Santana, listen. I was drunk when I kissed Rachel. It wasn't like I knew what I was doing! I barely even remember it! I don't even remember Kurt being there! If I had known…" I trailed off.
"Yeah, you can go off on 'ifs', but that isn't helping the fact that you hurt Kurt! You hurt him bad. I know how it feels to have someone you love choose someone of the opposite gender over you…" she trailed off. She may have sniffled a little, but it was too quiet for me to hear.
"Santana…"
"Don't go making excuses to me. I'm not the one who needs to hear it," she looked at me angrily. "I only came here to kick some butt for my boy, Kurt. Kurt may have been able to control Mercedes, but nothing can stop all of this," she gestured to herself, "when I get worked up."
She stood up.
"Anyway, I hope that you and Manhands live happily ever after, and watch Kurt grow old alone."
She started to stomp towards the door, but I stood and put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her momentarily.
"Santana," I said slowly. "Thank you," she raised an eyebrow at me. "For coming here. For defending Kurt. For telling me how he's feeling," she gave me a calculating look. "Just… thanks."
She just nodded.
"If you fix this, I might not have to kick your ass even more," She turned to go through the door, before turning back to me. She dug in her purse for a second, then pulled something out, throwing it to me.
I opened it up, seeing that it was concealer. "Uhm…?"
"It's for your shiner; you probably don't want to tell Kurt you got your ass handed to you by a girl," she shrugged, grinning, and waltzed through the door.
I closed it slowly, staring at the makeup compact curiously.
That girl was something else.
(A/N): Haha, I enjoyed this. Immensely. Santana is so cynical and sarcastic; I really hope I got her right! Luff yew all!
Reviews make rainbows eat homophobes (and ENJOY IT!) =D *Lesser-Than Three*