Santana and Sebastian had sex a grand total of once. They were sixteen, had been dating since they were fourteen, and finally decided that, hey, we haven’t had sex yet, why is that, we should try it.
They broke up the next day.
It wasn’t even bad sex, really. It was fucking great sex, actually, getting off wise. It was just weird as fuck and somehow managed to kick their brains into gear that wow, I am really not into his dick and wow, her tits should probably be way more awesome to me than they are.
So they accepted that they were gay and decided to just make out every so often in a totally platonic sort of way, because they are inherently sexual beings and kissing is fun.
Their whole codependent, living together, wearing each other’s clothes, and cuddling on the couch thing doesn’t make much sense to anyone but them, and has even chased off potential girlfriends and boyfriends, but they don’t really give a fuck. It’s always been each other, ever since they were little kids terrorizing the rest of the kids that lived in their neighbourhood and pushing each other into the dirt because they could.
They never really grew out of that.
They’re sitting in front of the TV in their shitty apartment, Santana wearing a gigantic red hoodie with Sebastian’s football number on the back, Sebastian wearing nothing but his boxers and sunglasses, their feet casually tangled together in the center of the couch.
The female protagonist of the terrible horror movie on the screen shrieks at something that isn’t all that scary, and Sebastian winces, lifting a hand to his head. Santana rolls her eyes.
“Okay, I can’t watch your shit anymore. I’m making coffee, and you’re taking some fucking Advil.” She extricates herself from the couch, starting the coffee in the kitchen and getting the Advil from the bathroom cabinet, chucking it unceremoniously at Sebastian’s head. He catches it and grins at her.
“Knew you cared, San,” he coos, shaking three pills out of the bottle and swallowing them dry.
When the coffee is finished brewing, Santana pours it into two mugs, not bothering with milk or sugar, and walks back to the living room, handing Sebastian one of them. He takes a sip and clearly struggles not to spit it back out again. “This is fucking terrible.”
“I know,” Santana says. “Are you going to tell me what you got up to last night, or am I going to have to torture it out of you?”
“I think this coffee actually is torture,” Sebastian says mournfully, staring into the cup. Santana raises an eyebrow, one hand on her hip, one foot tapping on the floor impatiently. This, Sebastian knows, is her ‘I mean business’ pose. He sighs.
“Nothing important happened. Can we just... not.”
He knew she would say that. Sometimes he wonders what he did wrong in a past life to deserve Santana Lopez as a best friend since childhood. “Kurt Hummel was at the club last night,” he says.
Santana groans. “Please tell me you didn’t talk to him.”
Sebastian avoids Santana’s gaze.
“You fucking idiot. What did you say this time?”
“I can’t actually remember, exactly,” Sebastian admits. “Something to do with how much his boyfriend is a douche and how he should be with me instead, and then I may have said something insulting about his father? I was already pretty drunk.”
“You are the dumbest person I know. That’s not how you go about wooing a guy into your bed, Sebastian, we’ve been over this.”
“Like you do any better with Rachel Berry,” Sebastian shoots back.
“That’s not what we’re talking about.” Santana sighs and sits down in the free bit of couch where Sebastian’s lap would be if his left leg wasn’t hanging off the couch while his right one is propped up against the back of it. She leans in and Sebastian kisses her. She smiles into it, the tiniest bit, and when they break apart, she rests her forehead on his shoulder. “Life would be so much easier if we weren’t so gay,” she says.
“Don’t I know it,” Sebastian agrees, and takes a sip of his terrible coffee.
Santana is standing in line at Starbucks, trying to decide between an iced latte and a caramel frappuccino and pretending that she doesn’t know that Rachel Berry is sitting by the window drinking iced tea and flipping through a book that’s probably not even for one of her classes.
She orders the iced latte, and then she sits across from Rachel because she sucks at playing pretend.
“Hey,” Santana says, trying to keep it casual. She has fifteen minutes before she absolutely must leave in order to get to her lecture. She can be friendly for that long.
Rachel looks up and scowls. “What do you want?”
There goes casual and friendly. “I was just being nice and saying hi, but if that’s so offensive to your sensibilities, I’ll just go.”
“Please do,” Rachel says, so of course Santana doesn’t move.
She’s not exactly sure what she did that made Rachel hate her so much, but she thinks it has something to do with how she managed to get the director of the musical freshman year under her thumb and therefore the lead in said musical, all while wearing an obnoxious amount of lipstick and way too short skirts, which isn’t really fair, because Rachel is currently wearing jean shorts that are completely unfair. Rachel’s legs are sinful and should not be left out where people can ogle them.
Anyway, Santana was still a bit of a bitch the first year of college, riding the high from high school and all, and she thinks that it really shouldn’t be held against her. If anything, how much of a bitch she still is should be the problem.
“What are you still doing here?” Rachel asks, her tone biting. Santana loves that tone.
“Do you think we’ll ever be friends?” Santana shoots back instead of answering.
Rachel looks momentarily confused. “I--well, no.”
“Sucks,” Santana says, standing. “Missed you over the summer, Berry.”
“Can’t say the same about you, Lopez,” Rachel replies.
Santana nods and turns to leave. At least she’s never insulted Rachel’s father. She has that.
Sebastian first met Kurt in his photography elective course their second year of college. Kurt’s a Fashion Design major while Sebastian majors in Business and minors in Economics, but they both share an interest in taking pictures of things and having really nice, tall hair.
Unfortunately, that’s pretty much where their similarities end, not to mention the fact that Kurt has a boyfriend that’s been sickeningly in love with him since they were in high school. Blaine is actually cute, Sebastian can admit that much, and he wouldn’t say no to a threesome if they offered, which they never would, because Sebastian has this thing where when he likes something he insults it a lot.
For some reason, most people don’t take insults as declarations of lust.
Functioning like a normal human being, Sebastian thinks while staring across the lecture hall at Kurt, would be easier if all human beings thought they way that he and Santana do. Then again, that might be scary.
Sebastian regrets signing up for photography again this year. He knew Kurt would, and he won’t lie, that was totally half his motivation, but it was stupid and he shouldn’t have done it. Now he’s set himself up to continue ruining any chance he has with Kurt by insulting him simply because he’s there, not to mention the torture that is looking but not having.
Fuck, Sebastian thinks, and hits his forehead on the top of his desk.
Sebastian Smythe to Santana Lopez, 4:04 PM
i hate life and also everything.
Santana Lopez to Sebastian Smythe, 4:06 PM
right with you.
The first football game of the season is generally a huge deal, which means there is way too much stress when you actually have to play in it, especially when you’re on the starting line like Sebastian is.
Sebastian surveys the stands, jogging nervously in place in the middle of the field. They’re packed, but Sebastian manages to catch sight of Kurt and Blaine sitting somewhere in the middle of the throng of people, Kurt looking a mildly bored contrast to the excitement on Blaine’s face. He spots Rachel, too, sitting with a bunch of her Theatre major friends in the section behind where the cheerleaders are warming up. Sebastian catches Santana’s eye and waves. She waves back and mouths ‘good luck’ at him. He shoots her a thumbs up.
It’s a tough game, tougher than they’d really been expecting for a first game, and to top that off it starts spitting rain just after half time. They just barely win with a truly epic play that Sebastian has minimal part in, and the stands go wild. Sebastian finds himself with an enthusiastic Santana wrapped around his waist, kissing the life out of him, and he rolls with it, gripping her thighs tight so that she doesn’t fall and get her cheer uniform any more muddy than it already is from assaulting him.
“You suck at football!” she yells at him.
“Shut up!” he yells back.
There’s something to be said for how truly epic football after game parties are. Sebastian is really very drunk, and he thinks Noah Puckerman put something in his drink, because he’s definitely feeling the effects of some sort of drug.
He blames this entirely for the fistfight he ends up getting into with Blaine and how he ends the night puking in the bushes outside the frathouse and bleeding profusely from his nose. Santana is nowhere to be seen, and Sebastian quietly rejoices, because if she were here she would just being telling him how stupid he is, and he already knows. Besides, she deserves to be having a better night than he is.
No matter how much Sebastian thinks Santana should be having a better night than he is, she’s not really doing a great job of actually making that happen. Her night is going pretty great, lots of grinding on the dance floor with total asshole football players and getting drunk on shit beer, and then she trips into the kitchen and over Rachel making out with Finn Hudson and, well, let the record state that she is not proud of her actions at this point.
She may possibly kind of pull Rachel off Finn and attempt to punch Finn and succeed in actually punching the sink while yelling hysterically about how if she can’t have Rachel then no one can.
Which is really fucking creepy and not actually something Santana thinks when she’s in her right mind.
So that night isn’t really something either Sebastian or Santana wants to acknowledge ever happened.
Unfortunately, Rachel and Kurt aren’t going to let them forget it.
“Hey, Santana, can I talk to you?”
Two weeks after the disaster that is the night of the first football game of the season, Santana looks up from the essay for English that she’s working on in Starbucks to see Rachel standing next to her table. Her first instinct is to ask Rachel what the fuck she wants, but she restrains herself and says a demure “Yeah, sure, have a seat,” instead.
Rachel sits down on the other side of the table, on the edge of the chair, as if she’s poised to run at any moment. Santana figures this is actually probably the case.
“Actually,” Santana blurts out, “before you say anything else, I’m really sorry about that whole thing at that party, you know. So, uh, yeah.”
Rachel looks amused. “Yeah, I know. You burst into tears and wouldn’t stop apologizing.”
Santana pales. “I forgot that part,” she mutters. “What did you want to talk to me about, then?”
“Well, I understand this is a delicate subject for some people,” Rachel begins, “but I thought maybe I could help you. I have a lot of experience with sexuality crises, you see, being that I have two dads and am very involved in the theatre, where someone has one approximately every second week.” She looks at Santana expectantly. Santana blinks across the table at her, utterly confused. Rachel takes that as her cue to continue. “What I mean, really, is, well, does Sebastian know? Because I’ve been having some discussions with my friend Kurt, and he’s told me some things, that maybe you should know. But I don’t know if I want to tell you, particularly, because that might--”
“Wait, wait, stop talking,” Santana interrupts. “I am so fucking confused right now. Does Sebastian know what?”
Rachel blinks, then says, very slowly, “That you’re attracted to girls.”
Santana snorts. “Yeah, of course he knows. I’m pretty fucking gay, and he’s my best friend, plus we live together, so he’d have to be blind to have not noticed at this point.”
“So you’re also aware that he...”
“Is about as gay as I am?” Santana finishes. “Yeah, I know. We do talk.”
“Then why are you dating?” Rachel asks, genuinely curious.
Santana stares at her. “We’re not.”
“Nope. That ship sailed many a year ago.”
Rachel tilts her head minutely. “You do know the entire campus thinks that you are, right?”
“Well, they do. And may I suggest, if you don’t want them to think so, stop making out in public. It’s a bit misleading.”
Rachel stands. “See you around, Santana. Nice chatting.”
“Yeah. Uh. Bye.”
Santana Lopez to Sebastian Smythe, 12:02 PM
THE WHOLE SCHOOL THINKS WE ARE DATING.
Sebastian Smythe to Santana Lopez, 12:10 PM
“We are dumb,” Santana says. She’s lying on Sebastian’s bed while he paces the floor at the foot of it. “I mean, we could have thought the whole casual kissing in public thing through a little more. No wonder we haven’t been able to establish any sort of long term relationship with anyone else.”
“The last guy I fucked at a club apologized afterward,” Sebastian says. “I couldn’t figure out why.”
There’s a quiet pause before they both burst into laughter.
“Oh God,” Sebastian says, flopping down next to Santana. “Oh my God, no wonder Kurt thinks I’m such a sleaze. I mean, other than how terrible I am to him in general.”
“Jesus Christ. Do you think we have to break up, now? We could stage it. I could slap you somewhere public and that could be it.”
“Why do I have to be the one being slapped? Besides, I don’t want to break up.”
Santana turns her head toward him and raises an eyebrow.
“I mean, the whole casual making out thing. It’s good, I don’t think other people should be allowed to make us stop being us, you know?”
“No, of course not,” Santana agrees. “But for the sake of actually getting laid, we should probably start keeping that private or something.”
“Yeah,” Sebastian agrees. “Ugh, wow, I am not dating you, I can’t believe people thought I was.”
“Same here, buddy, same here.”
They catch each other’s eye and burst into laughter again.
Sebastian is only a little tipsy at this particular after game party when Kurt finds him sitting in the back corner of the backyard, behind a bush. He may possibly be hiding from people in general--sometimes Sebastian just doesn’t enjoy being near people at all.
“Hey,” Kurt says. “Can I sit here?”
Sebastian shrugs. Kurt takes that as a yes and settles in next to him, leaving a fair amount of space between them.
“So, I heard you broke up with Santana.”
“Yeah, about five years ago,” Sebastian agrees.
Kurt laughs shortly at that. “Rachel told me that Santana said you weren’t dating at all.”
“Rachel spoke truly,” Sebastian says. He pauses, then adds, “Kurt, what are you doing here?”
Kurt shrugs. “I don’t know, really.” Sebastian watches as he tilts his head back to rest against the fence, staring up at the sky. “Do you ever feel like everything is just... happening around you while you stand still and wonder how you got here?”
“No,” Sebastian says.
“I do,” Kurt says. “All the time.” He looks at Sebastian. He’s a lot closer than Sebastian thought, he observes faintly. “Can I try something?”
And then Kurt is kissing him, one hand pressed against Sebastian’s cheek, lips soft and yielding under Sebastian’s. By the time they pull apart, Sebastian is flushed and out of breath, and Kurt isn’t much better.
“Did you break up with Blaine?” Sebastian asks, because it seems prudent.
“Kissing you is the first thing I’ve done in ages that I remember how I got there.”
“He’s not good enough for you,” Sebastian says.
“Are you saying that you are?” Kurt asks, and then he’s gone before Sebastian can reply, which is just as well, because he has no idea what the answer to that is.
“I got you an iced latte,” Rachel says, sitting down across from Santana and pushing the drink toward her. Santana stares at her.
“I already have Dr. Pepper,” Santana points out.
“It’s a gesture of good faith, Santana, just say thank you.”
“Thanks, I guess.”
Rachel smiles. “I’ve decided that I wouldn’t mind dating you on a trial basis.”
“Would you rather go to dinner and a movie for our first date, or would you like to do something more out of the box?”
Santana isn’t really sure if this is actually happening. She’s actually pretty sure it must be a dream, so she decides to just fuck it and go for it. “I actually had this whole fantasy where I introduced you to my roller derby team and you kicked ass at rollerblading.”
“Well, I can’t promise I’ll kick ass, but that sounds fun. Friday?”
“It’s a date,” Rachel says, and shoots Santana another smile before getting up to leave.
Santana takes a sip of the iced latte. It tastes real enough...
Santana Lopez to Sebastian Smythe, 12:15 PM
i just made a date with rachel for this friday. i think i’m having a very real feeling dream.
Sebastian Smythe to Santana Lopez, 12:18 PM
a random freshman just told me that blaine and kurt broke up. we’re definitely dreaming.
Santana Lopez to Sebastian Smythe, 12:19 PM
i’ll be expecting the kick anytime now.
“I have no idea why I even like you. You’re a douche,” Kurt says. “But fuck, I do.”
Sebastian stares at him. “Hello to you, too.”
“Shut up,” Kurt says, and then kisses him, right in the middle of their photography class.