A/N: A little something I wrote for tumblr, I thought I'd post it here. Sancedes is a pair I really ship, but have never written about before...I hope I did them justice.

Santana Lopez was always three things: sexy, confident, and guarded.

But walking up the stone steps of the Jones' brick colonial with a knot in her stomach and a wobble in her legs told her that today, one out of three would have to suffice. Shifting the large, covered bowl she was carrying to one arm, she knocked on the door and heard a muffled "It's open" from somewhere inside the house. She pushed the heavy wooden door open and was met with a welcome blast of cold air.

"Santana!" Denise Jones popped her head into the hall from the kitchen, "Come on back here and put that heavy thing down!" Santana shut the door behind her and made her way back to the spacious kitchen to set the glass bowl down on the pristine black stone counter. "Well don't you look lovely!"

"Thanks Mrs. J," she smiled. Truth be told, the crisp white sundress she wore over her bikini isn't something she'd normally pick, but today wasn't just any old day.

"Is that Maribel's famous fruit salad?"

"Nah, it's my best attempt at her recipe," she shifted, slightly uncomfortable, "my parents are at another conference." Denise gave her a knowing look and a quick hug.

"I'm sure it's just as good, sugar. Mercedes is upstairs in her room, it'll be a while before the others show up, so you can just head on up."

Santana nodded and padded up the stairs and down the hall, her heart pounding harder with each step, until she stopped in front of a white door with a glittering lavender "M" on it, behind which Beyonce could be heard telling her that if she liked it, she should've put a ring on it. "Jesus effing Christ," she mumbled to herself, "just do it Lopez. You can do this." Then she heard footsteps coming toward the door from the other side and before she even knew what she was doing, she'd sprinted further down the hall and ducked into the bathroom.

She put her hands on either side of the sink, and looked up at her reflection in the mirror. In any other instance, Santana would be the first to tell you she was a "feel the fear and do it anyway" type of person. But then again, she'd never been quite this scared.

"What's the worst that can happen?" she asked her reflection. The answer to that question is what sent her out of the bathroom, down the stairs, out the door, into her car, and home in one panicky blur. She took her wedges off by the door, plopped her keys in the bowl, and went to the kitchen, grateful for the coolness of the tile under her bare feet. Perhaps a glass of iced tea would help wash down the lump of panic in her throat. She was halfway to the fridge when she remembered that it was a craving for iced tea that had started it all.

It was ridiculous that Sue would have them start Cheerios practice in the middle of the summer, not to mention ( probably) illegal, but then again so was everything the sadist did. In any case, Santana was more than ready for her post-practice iced tea. She pulled into the Lima Bean's full parking lot and found a spot rather far from the door. She hopped out of her little red convertible and was about to head for the door when she recognized the car parked in front of hers, as well as the driver. Mercedes Jones was sitting in the driver's seat of her white SUV, and she looked upset.

Normally Santana wouldn't give a damn – she'd later blame this sudden moment of sympathy on tumbling for hours in the sweltering Ohio summer – but something made her walk over and knock on the driver side window. The tinted window rolled slowly down to reveal an obviously upset Mercedes, eyes puffy from crying, balled up tissues clutched in her small hands.

Santana wasn't exactly an expert in the act of comforting, and if she was being honest she'd admit that she's caused a lot more tears than she'd ever dried. But something about seeing her in pain made her soften.

"Hey, girl. Are…are you okay?" Santana asked, weakly.

"Peachy." Mercedes replied, curtly. "If you're gonna make fun of me, don't. It's the last thing I need today," she sniffled, starting to roll up the window.

"I'm not! I promise. Look, you're clearly not okay, and I can't stand being in the sun any longer, so just let me in."

Mercedes looked up at her incredulously.

"Please?"

She heard the soft click of the door being unlocked, so she went over to the passenger side and slipped in. The cool air and shade from the tinted windows felt amazing. After a few moments of silence, she turned to face the distressed girl.

"So…what happened?" Santana knew about putting walls up – she practically lived in a fortress – so she recognized the guarded expression staring back at her. "I know I've been pretty terrible to you…and pretty much everyone else…at some point, and you have no reason to trust me, but I'd like to think that we've grown this past year. So try me."

Mercedes looked down at her hands, avoiding Santana's eyes. "It's stupid. Like, really, really, stupid. I shouldn't even be crying."

"Just tell me."

She could see Mercedes weighing the decision in her head. "Fine. But it goes no further than this car. Nobody knew, and I'd like to keep it that way."

Well if she wasn't interested before… "Promise. Go on."

"Well…Sam and I kinda…connected in New York. I mean we were friends before, but we had a moment and…" she bit her lip, nervously, still avoiding Santana's eyes, "we just started dating."

Santana sat quietly, stunned.

"Go ahead," Mercedes said, her tone turning bitter, "here's where you jump in about his trouty mouth and how the hell did 'Wheezy' ever pull a guy like-"

"Woah!" Santana exclaimed, eyes wide. "I'll admit, some of that sounds like something I'd say, but I just didn't see it coming!"

"What, because I'm-"

"No! Just because I didn't even think you guys were friends like that. You're a stealthy one, Jones."

"Oh." Mercedes said, sheepishly."Well, you know his family situation. His dad found a job in Kentucky, so they had to move a little over a week ago. And I'm happy for them, I even prayed for it to happen…" she stopped, visibly upset.

"But you didn't think he'd have to move away," Santana finished, softly. Mercedes nodded.

"It's so stupid, but we wanted to keep it quiet in school, so for the last few weeks of school we'd meet here every morning and grab a coffee and something sweet." Her eyes shone with unshed tears. "And now I just want to go in and get an iced coffee, but it just reminds me of him."

Santana didn't know what to say. "Mercedes-"

"I know it's dumb," she muttered, wiping the tears from her eyes. "We'd barely been dating for more than a month-"

"That's not what I was gonna say," she said, gently. Santana, surprising both of them, took Mercedes' hand in her own, and turned her face to look up at her. "It's okay to be sad, especially when you lose someone you care about. It doesn't matter who knew, or how long it was or whatever. Nothing matters except how you feel." Santana gave Mercedes an empathetic smile, after all, she was no stranger to the difficulty of secret love and loss.

Mercedes swallowed, clearly emotional. "Thanks, Tana." She managed a small smile.

"Any time. You know what? I'm gonna go get us some icy, caffeinated drinks and then we're gonna go lie around that big 'ol pool in your backyard because it is hot as Satan's balls out here." She smiled when she heard Mercedes giggle, and hopped out of the car.

"Wait!"

"Yeah?" Santana poked her head back into the car

Mercedes grabbed her purse from the back seat. "The drinks are on me...you did just listen to me boo-hoo about my ex, and that's not exactly your style," she quipped, rummaging around in the purple tote for her wallet.

"Nah, don't worry about it," Santana motioned for her to put her bag away, "it's my treat. Only, I'm getting you an iced tea. I'd get you that iced coffee, but I don't need a repeat of the waterworks," she smirked, playfully. "Deal?"

"Deal."

And that's how it began. A heart-to-heart in a coffee shop parking lot led to sleepovers and dinner at each other's houses, matinees at the local movie theater to escape the heat, mini-golf, bowling – an entire summer of adventures together. In a couple of short months Santana got to know this girl she'd teased, dismissed, and competed with, but never really listened to. Perhaps if she had she would've seen that they have more in common than anyone else: from the air of extreme confidence they use to mask their insecurity, to their love of all things soulful. The best nights were spent laying in the cool, dewy grass laughing about nothing in particular and harmonizing on their favorite Amy and Adele tunes. It was during those nights, in-between the seemingly endless and baseless giggling, that Santana caught glimpses of her new friend's softer side.

Mercedes Jones was no brassy hag – she was a friggin' marshmallow. At first she wondered why she never saw this part of her in glee club, but she knew the answer. The sass and the 'tude – while very much a part of her personality – were used as a tool to keep people at arm's length…much like her own bitchery. It was comfortable, safer than letting people in. Underneath it all, she was earnest, feisty, funny, and sweet. Santana didn't really open up to anyone, and she got the feeling Mercedes was the same way, but barely two weeks into their budding friendship and they were swapping secrets. Mercedes was the first person she told about what happened with Brittany, and her struggle with accepting who she was. She'd been so kind, encouraging her to do what she feels is right, reminding her that who she loves is no one's business but her own, and giving her a warm, reassuring smile and hug.

Sometimes Santana felt she didn't deserve the kind of friendship this was turning out to be, which is probably why it was so hard to admit to herself that she sometimes felt more than friendly about Ms. Mercedes Jones. Not only was she discovering her inner beauty, but at a certain point in the summer it was like she began seeing Mercedes for the very first time – and boy did she like what she saw. That smile…when Mercedes Jones smiled, her whole face lit up; it was adorable. She couldn't help but notice her big, dark eyes twinkle, and her nose do the cutest little scrunching thing. One day she said something to make her laugh, and her stomach fluttered. It made her want to keep her laughing forever.

Slowly but surely, the nice friendship feelings were being replaced by crush-like, more than friendly feelings, and Santana had no idea what to do about it. All she knew was that one day in the middle of the summer seeing her jumping around in the pool in that gold boyshort tankini she usually wore was practically a religious experience. Later that week she came over for a movie night after a long day of Cheerios practice. She kicked off her trainers by the door and shook out her too-tight pony before settling in for the cheesy comedy. She must've been tired, because the next thing she knew, she was waking up in Mercedes' lap.

"Hey sleepyhead," Mercedes giggled.

God she loved that giggle.

"Hey," she smiled, slightly embarrassed at having fallen asleep. "What'd I miss?"

"You mean besides the entire movie?"

Santana shifted to lie on her back, her head still in Mercedes' lap."Woops." Her cheeks burned as she grinned guiltily up at her friend. "Guess I was more tired than I thought."

"It's all good." Mercedes smiled as she twirled the ends of Santana's dark locks around her fingers."You know, you look really nice with your hair down," she brushed the shorter hairs off her forehead, and smiled down at her, "much better than the pony-though that suits you too. "

Santana's heart was beating a mile a minute. She sat up abruptly, startling Mercedes.

"What's wrong?" she looked confused.

"It's just that I'm just kind of maybe having feelings and you being beautiful and plush and playing in my hair isn't helping," she thought to herself. "Nothing," she lied through her teeth, "I just promised my mom I'd be home to help her with…stuff." Smooth, Lopez…real smooth.

"Stuff?"

"Yeah…she's doing taxes and wants me to learn. Be financially responsible or whatever."

"Taxes…in August?"

Damn it. "Yup. Starting early. Later!" She haphazardly gathered her belongings and flew out the door.

Santana sighed, shutting the refrigerator door. That was all of two weeks ago, and it'd been like that every time they'd hung out since. Things would be fine until she'd randomly brush against a curve, or get lost in a smile, then she'd make it awkward. She knew there was no way Mercedes knew, and an even slimmer chance that she'd reciprocate any feelings she had. She leaned back against the stainless steel fridge and pressed the cool glass of tea against her flushed cheek. Before this summer, she'd probably just swallow her feelings and act like it never happened, but she'd been changing, slowly but surely.

It was like every day a little bit more of the bravado that made up her veneer became actual courage and conviction. She'd made up her mind the day before Mercedes called about the pool party that she'd tell her. She didn't expect her to reciprocate. But even though their friendship was fairly new, it was easily the strongest one she's had, and so she believed that they'd be able to work it out. At the very least she could stop being so awkward. But she hadn't been brave enough.

Draining the last of the tea from her glass, she popped an ice cube in her mouth and tried to grind away her frustration. Santana was just about to head up to her room when the doorbell rang. She wasn't exactly in the mood to see anyone, and though a summer with Mercedes had served to mellow her out a good deal, her bite was still worse than her impressive bark. If it was someone trying to sell her something or ask her if she's met her Lord and savior...well then she hoped they were ready to meet him their damn selves. Rolling her eyes, she popped another ice cube into her mouth before setting her glass down into the sink. She figured if she chewed on the ice enough she might be able to save whoever picked this unfortunate time to knock on her door from too severe a tongue lashing.

Santana swung the door open and froze, accidentally swallowing the last hunk of ice and then hacking in a decidedly unattractive manner.

"Please don't die. Also, can I come in?"

Mercedes Jones was laid out on her bed in nothing but a bathing suit and a little blue wrap skirt, looking at her with all the genuine concern in the world.

To put it lightly, she was freaking the fuck out.

"Look, I know something is wrong. My mom said you ran out of the house like something was chasing you…so what is it?"

Santana paced back and forth, her arms wrapped around her torso.

"San," Mercedes said, softly, "girl…whatever it is, it'll be okay. Just tell me."

"How could you possibly know that?" Santana snapped, stopping abruptly.

"Excuse me?" Mercedes' mouth dropped open, clearly taken aback. All this did for Santana was highlight how full and gorgeous her mouth was, which frustrated her even more.

"I- I just…" she scrambled for words that would make sense. It didn't matter how many times she practiced this in the mirror over the last week. "You care about me," she stated, matter-of-factly.

Mercedes looked lost, and rightfully so. "Yes. Yes I do…isn't that what friends do? I mean, I know you haven't had a whole lot of those, so-"

"No!" she almost screamed. Great – not only was she not getting her point across, but she was yelling at her.

"Girl, I did not come over here to be yelled at. I have my momma for that." Mercedes raised a brow that told Santana 'that's enough of that' and motioned for her to come sit next to her on the bed. She sat up, tucking her legs under her, and faced her friend. "Now," she began, tucking a stray hair behind her ear, "use your words."

Santana sat next to her, crossing her legs and clasped her hands together, hoping to hide how they'd started to tremble. "Well," she swallowed, hard, "like I said, you care for me, like…really and truly. And I don't know that I deserve that, seeing as I've put you through it since grade school-"

Mercedes waved it away. "It's forgotten. And don't undervalue yourself. Just cause we're a couple of tough cookies doesn't mean we don't deserve good things." She flashed a small, crooked smile that made Santana both panic and totally melt.

"Yeah, I guess you're right." She crossed and uncrossed her legs. "But anyway, I appreciate it more than you know. It's one thing to have someone look out for you, it's another thing entirely to have someone that just gets it, you know?" Mercedes nodded. "And I totally care about you too…something I never thought I'd feel, let alone say, three months ago." She chuckled, nervously. "You've shown me that it takes a stronger person to live their truth than it does to hide it, and I guess I'm not that strong…seeing as I bolted…"

Mercedes frowned slightly, confused. "Why though, Santana?"

Santana took a deep breath to steady her nerves. "I'll tell you. But first, you might not like it…so I'm gonna need you to promise me you'll still be my friend. Because…well…I'm kind of tired of it being 'Santana versus the world' all the time. And we're a pretty kickass pair." She managed a feeble smile.

The concern in Mercedes' eyes grew. "I promise," she said, sincerely, "no matter what." She laid her hand gingerly on Santana's shoulder, and gave it a comforting squeeze. "Okay?"

"Okay." She sat up on the bed and tucked her legs into a pretzel, facing Mercedes, but staring down at her lap – she couldn't quite bring herself to meet her eyes. "I came over early today because I wanted to talk to you. I made it up the stairs and to your door, but then I chickened out and left."

"Because…"

"Because I like you."

"You…oh. Oh!" She saw Mercedes face go from confusion to understanding and surprise, and then quickly looked back down at her clasped hands, unsure whether she'd want to see what expression popped up next.

"Yeah."

"Santana, I-"

"Wait!" She jumped up and began to pace again, nervous energy coursing through her body. "I had this whole thing planned and then…it didn't work. So now I'm just going to say what I need to say, but you have to let me get this out, because if I don't…I may never have the nerve to do it again. Okay?"

Mercedes tucked her bottom lip in, eyes wide, and simply nodded.

"So yeah, where was I…I like you, like really like you. I can't pinpoint when it started – maybe it's been happening all along." She folded her arms across her chest, looking down all the while. "All I know is that the day that I found you crying in the Lima Bean parking lot is the first day I began to see you for who you really are. I mean, usually I couldn't care less if my own flesh and blood was crying… but something made me stop that day. And you had no reason to let me in – into the car or your life – but you did. And seeing you open up made me realize that being open isn't weakness…it's strength."

Santana was aware that she was full on rambling at this point, and she could only manage brief glances at Mercedes – who seemed to be quietly taking it all in.

"And it's like every time we hang out you take my wall down, brick by brick, whether you mean to or not…you peel away my façade. And I feel like I'm peeling away at yours and I get so excited at every little bit that's revealed – I fall a little bit more." She felt tears stinging her eyes, but she soldiered on, determined to finish.

"And you're beautiful. God, Mercedes…you don't even know how beautiful you are! And I mean inside and out. And all I want to do is spend time with you, and cuddle and watch movies like we always do, but-"the unshed tears began to blur her vision, "I know you don't like girls, so if it has to be as friends, then fine. I had to be honest, you know? I want to live my truth, but I just don't want to lose you." She squeezed her eyes shut to stop the flood of tears threatening to fall and rubbed her hands over her face.

Silence.

She didn't know what she expected, but it wasn't this. Santana was afraid to open her eyes, afraid to see an expression of disgust, or worse still, pity. She rubbed her eyes when she heard the creak of the mattress and Mercedes putting her feet on the floor.

Small, warm hands reached for Santana's slim fingers, and squeezed. "You're right, I don't like girls."

Santana felt like she'd been punched in the chest. She tried to free her hands so she could leave the room.

Mercedes held on and tugged her back. "Hey," she said, firmly, "look at me."

Santana looked into her eyes, surprised at the intensity she found.

"I don't like girls," she repeated, "which is strange, considering how much I like you."

"W-wh-"

Mercedes pressed the softest, sweetest kiss against her lips, and that was all the explanation Santana would ever need.

I hope you enjoyed it :)