SUMMARY: It was no secret that Rachel and Santana never really got along. You could ask anyone in Glee Club or at McKinley High about just that. So, how is it that the two came to become friends? After confessing her sexual preferences to her parents, Santana found herself kicked out of her house with no job, no money and nowhere else to go to. Her pride wouldn't allow her to go to Brittany and, well, she didn't really have any other friends she could trust with this. Even Quinn wasn't really reliable considering her new…look. Santana found herself sleeping in the auditorium and using the lockers to ready herself. Knowing that Berry was the overly prepared dork that she was, Santana made sure to be out of there by 7am. One day her alarm decided that it didn't want to work anymore and Santana overslept. When Rachel finds the Latina without anywhere else to go, she reluctantly offers her home and her secrecy in exchange for a few things. What was that? Respect in her home. She could go on pestering her at school, but she demanded to be called Rachel, or Ray as Santana prefers to call her. The other request was that Santana talks to her fathers about the ordeal. What happens when the two slowly open up to the idea of being friends?
If Santana was like every other girl her age, this would be where she cried. This would be where she would run to her friends, her M.I.A. friends, for help. This would be where she drowned herself in her sorrow until she managed to fall asleep. But, that's the thing, Santana wasn't like most girls her age. This girl was a professional when it came to building up walls and burying her emotions beneath them. That's exactly what she would do: bury them so deep that people would begin to question if she had any. Santana leaned her head against the abnormally cold window siding as she eyed the way the heavy droplets pounded against the unwilling, leaf-coated pavement. She couldn't help but appreciate the irony of the weather this early Sunday morning. Brittany had chosen Artie, and normalcy, over her again. By now, Santana wondered why she was even surprised anymore. She wondered even more about why she even cared. Brittany found it difficult to decide between breakfast cereals, so why would picking a team be quicker, easier? Even she couldn't really pick a team. Or, rather, she wasn't really sure about what team she was playing for. 'God, I hate labels,' a frustrated Santana thought to herself. Santana traced shapes onto the window as she let her mind wander over the entire situation. With Quinn gone for the summer, she couldn't even make plans to somehow make up with the freshly cut blond and settle in for some shopping therapy. (Though, she really wondered if Quinn was even away, since rumours had been spreading about her dating some 30 year old biker dude.) There was no way she could go to Puck for anything other than a fuck and she couldn't even get that from him anymore since he was still dating Zizes. Freakin' cow. No rhyme intended. She was alone for this one. Even going to Porcelain and Warbler seemed like way too big of a leap on a downward social spiral that Santana was still unwilling to take. She would just have to bury this down deep, and hope that it would just go away.
Santana considered the possibility of going through her phonebook for a little distraction. Luckily, she would only have to bare this for a bit longer. School was starting soon and she would be able to be surrounded by her fellow Glee Club members. She would never admit it, but being around them made her feel like she had actual friends instead of just questionable popularity…
The light rapping at her door pulled her away from the window and forced her glance to pass on the doorway and its visitor. "Como te sientes, mija? Te vez triste," Maria, Santana's mother, said in a way that would have convinced anyone that this concern was of the norm, which it truly wasn't. 'How do I feel?' Santana translated the question in her mind and it still didn't make any sense. How do you answer a question like that? Actually, how does someone answer that when all they want to say is 'bitch, please?' She managed to keep herself from showing that signature eye roll, which would surely earn her a slap upside the head. 'You look sad.' She was shocked that the woman had managed to step out of her own world long enough to even notice. It took all of her energy not to chuckle, and even more of it not to just kick her out of the room.
"No, mami. Me siento bien. Me gusta mirar la lluvia. Es una cosa muy tranquilizante." Saying 'I'm fine' bilingually had become quite the habit these days. It was all she ever said anymore; such a lie that ever left her lips could be so grand. She was far from fine, far from okay, but she handled her own shit. The last thing she needed was for her mother to get involved. A false smile crept onto her face that could have, in any other situation, earned her a golden Emmy. Her mother, being the oblivious parental figure she was, accepted her daughter's answer and walked toward her.
"Okay, mija." She leaned down and embraced her daughter, leaving Santana very uncomfortable.
Since Santana's mom retired from the law firm, or rather since it was forcefully suggested to her that she retire after an incident with a copy boy, she had made a habit of reading parenting books. This week's chapter was 'how affirming your daughter at home could prevent promiscuity, teenage pregnancy, drug habits, and help with higher SAT scores.' Considering that Santana had already been de-virginized (credit due to Puck), had a pregnancy scare, learned to be a birth control pro, loved to 'get her drank on,' and was a senior who had taken the SAT in her junior year, it was definitely a little late for all that. "How did I get so blessed with such a dutiful daughter?" Choosing to give Santana, who learned most of her Spanish from her nanny rather than her parents, a break from all the Spanish, Maria decided to switch over to her English for a while. I just don't know. Guess my nanny did a good job of raising me, huh? Surprised you even know where my room is bitch… Santana just smiled silently as her internal rant continued, not really knowing what to say that wouldn't be filled with venomous sarcasm. "I love you, mija." Maria finally let her daughter go.
A sharp pain surged through her chest in a very sudden manner that mimicked lightening in many ways: sudden, rough, and resonating. She had wanted to hear those words so desperately as a child that it overwhelmed her to hear it now. She had grown accustomed to hearing it on holidays or special occasions, sometimes after the occasional Lifetime movie or novella that her mother watched and was moved by, but hearing it so randomly definitely caught her off guard. "You too," was all she could muster up. "You ready for church?" Santana spoke quickly to change the subject. Her mother nodded and held her hand out to drag the teenager along.
Rachel woke up early that morning, the way she did every morning. When it came to staying on a schedule, she was definitely a professional. She started every morning off with a protein shake, a good workout, a facial treatment, vocal practice, dance practice and a healthy lunch. Yes, that was only the morning. Though she lacked an extensive social life, Rachel made sure to keep herself busy over the summer. Most of her morning came to a close at around 12 to 2pm, because that's when Finn would finally get up. She loved him dearly, so she refused to mock his lack of structure when it came to his summer activities. For the most part, easing off of him when it came to that was no struggle. However, dealing with his teenage male antics when he finally awoke took a little more restraint than she had.
"What the! Mother-"
"Finn Hudson!" Rachel didn't even give Finn a chance to finish his much needed vulgarity. Without looking back, he mumbled its completion under his breath and readjusted his hold of the PS3 controller as Puck let out a snicker or two.
This is what her afternoons consisted of: watching Finn and Puck play their video games, while she tried to find something to talk about with Lauren. What made today a bit more difficult to handle was the fact that she had woken up extra early to finish by eleven, so she could drive Finn to Puck's place for a Mortal Kombat marathon. His car had been taken away by Kurt for his romantic picnic with Blaine; something Kurt just wouldn't stop texting her hated video games and she only hated violent video games more, though she found herself oddly attracted to the character Kitana. Rachel blamed it on the character's composure while faced with burly men and confrontational situations. They were such a waste of valuable time in her opinion, but she got to spend time with Finn. That was enough for her, or, rather, it usually was enough.
"As I was saying-" Lauren threw her hand up toward Rachel in a silencing manner and pointed to the screen with the other.
"Berry, shut that pie hole of yours. I'm trying to figure out what technique to use so I can kick both of these punk ass boys' asses," Lauren spoke in that intimidating tone that actually made Rachel miss Quinn and Santana. At least they were lady-like about their insults. There was more of a banter in their statements and it was good practice for when she found a rival on the Broadway scene.
"I was just going to sa-" Lauren shoved Rachel off of the bed with one hand before she could finish her discussion on the only video game she had ever really attempted to play, Singstar. Rachel hit the floor with a loud and echoing thud, laying in her pooling defeat. The worst thing that anyone could ever do to Rachel was not let her finish speaking. That, and hit the nose.
"Finn, are you just going to let her push me around like that!" Rachel opted to try getting Finn's assistance with the situation. Considering Lauren's size and wrestling background, it seemed safer to ask for help than to actually take her on by herself. As she stood from the floor and adjusted her skirt, Rachel noticed that the high school jock had stayed silent. "Finn!" She practically growled the name, catching Puck's attention instead of Finn's.
"She's a chick, Rach." Finn spoke in a drone-like manner without taking his eyes off of the screen. Puck, instead, paused the Mortal Kombat match and turned around toward the girls.
"Beautiful, take it easy on Berry. She's not as tough as you, my little jelly-filled doughtnut." With that, he turned back toward the screen and started the match again.
Rachel silently shook her head and sat back down on the bed with a nostalgic sigh, counting the number of days until school started in her head. She couldn't wait and not just because it meant that she wouldn't have to watch the boys play all day. This would be her senior year, which meant that she had one last chance to make a name for herself in high school before she went onto New York. It also meant that she would soon be able to see her fellow Glee Clubbers, who she missed dearly.
Her eyes met the window and she noticed that the rain had only gotten worse since this morning. Most people would find the rainfall to be depressing, but Rachel always saw it a fresh beginning, a clean slate. A car flew by in the rain and she could have sworn that she had seen Santana in the backseat. Realizing that she might even be missing Santana Lopez, Rachel shook her head with a slight chuckle and turned back toward the screen like any dutiful girlfriend would do.
Lauren leaned down toward Puck and whispered; "Now the bitch is laughing to herself…"
The Lopez family arrived at church around 11:30 am. Santana's parents always liked to get there thirty minutes before the service so they could mingle with the congregation. She never really talked to anyone. Mostly because they only people that showed up early were the old fucks. She walked around the church aimlessly like she always did and found herself pausing at the entrance to the doors into the worshipping part of the cathedral. Santana cringed at the huge statue of Jesus that hung over the altar.
She remembered staring at the statue with the same amount of fear after her first time having sex. Santana was only a 13 year old freshman and, while she was usually fearless, she was a bit frightened by it. The thought didn't dwell in her mind for too long that day, though. She remembered her mind shifting to the fact that she still hadn't gotten her panties back from Puck. What the fuck? I never did get them back… She shook the thought from her head and focused back on the statue. It always felt like it was staring at her with pure judgment. Santana didn't feel that way about Jesus, just the statue. She may not have been the most religious person, but she had her own sense of spirituality. It was something that she would never admit to, because of her reputation as a fearless bitch. Her eyes stayed locked onto the statue again, as if it would somehow shout her out for her "indecencies." She couldn't help but wonder why she would be struck down for messing around with girls if she hadn't dealt with any repercussions for fooling around with guys.
"Who let those dikes into the church?" The statement uttered by her approaching uncle caused Santana to whip around so quickly that she almost knocked over the elderly woman behind her. She could feel the blood rushing away from her face, leaving her with an almost ghostly complexion. Only when she realized that Uncle Fernando wasn't talking about her, did the colour return to her face and the tense stance she was in begin to relax. It wouldn't be a feeling that she enjoyed for too long though.
"It's disgusting," Cristobal, Santana's father, added almost immediately. "Do they realize this is a holy place?" Santana looked up at her father, who towered over her, and tilted her head a bit. If Brittany could see him like this, she would understand why it was so hard for her to just come out, especially since she had no idea if she was really a lesbian or 'simply' bisexual. 'Like there is anything simple about this,' she thought. She still had no idea where the two men were looking, but she wasn't too upset about missing the sight. If she didn't see it, she wouldn't have to comment on it. That was more than okay with her. When Santana felt the two men looking at her, she turned toward them and read the look on their faces. They wanted her to add something, to agree, to somehow prove her 'Christianity' by condemning two women who could be exactly like her. She reluctantly looked out toward the couple and practically punched herself mentally as she spoke.
"It's a sin…," she uttered in an unsure manner. Her father placed his hand on her shoulder with that proud look on his face and Santana felt herself cringe along with the rising nausea in her stomach. He finally shows his 'orgullo' in her and it was for a lie that made her feel disgusted with herself.
"Don't judge, lest ye be judged," Father Pablo came up from behind Santana with his memorable, thick Mexican ranchero accent and pressed his hand to her back. "It's not our place to put a judgment on others, Sanny." Though he had a disciplinary tone in his words, Santana felt a security and just the slightest hint of hope in them as they left his mustache covered lips. She couldn't show it, but she was smiling inwardly at the idea of someone's compassion, someone's acceptance. "Whatever you say, Padre."