From One Bitch To Another - a Sebtana fic
In which Sebastian goes to visit Karofsky, and bumps into Santana along the way.
“Sebastian?”
He looks up from the waiting room chair. He’s not quite sure why he didn’t just leave when the nurse said Karofsky already had a visitor, and would he mind waiting? Yes, he did mind waiting. The room was cold and hard and empty, which reminded Sebastian too much of himself. The sickly, sterile smell of the hospital did not mix well with bland coffee on an empty stomach. But he had waited. Fingers tapping against his knee. His skin looks grey under the lights. He feels grey.
“Sebastian. Hello?”
He blinks. A familiar face comes into focus, and he clears his throat.
“Santana. Hi.”
She’s out of her cheerleading uniform, which is a nice change. She’s a beautiful girl, especially when her expression isn’t twisted with hate or hidden behind a mask. There’s a softer edge to her, but it’s still very much Santana – or at least, he thinks it is. He’s starting to realise he doesn’t really know anyone. Maybe nobody knows him, either. No, scratch that. There’s no maybe about it.
“Have you been to see him before?” Santana asks, glancing back down the corridor. Her arms are crossed in front of her, but for once it doesn’t look defensive, or aggressive. It just looks as if she’s trying to take up as little space as possible. Maybe she doesn’t like hospitals either.
“No. First time. How’s he doing?”
One of Santana’s hands goes up to her throat – unconsciously, Sebastian thinks – and she looks away.
“He’s alive, at least,” she says. “His voice is screwed and he looks like crap, so be prepared, okay?”
Her voice is hard, but it catches on the last word and Santana hunches in a little closer, blinking hard. Sebastian stands up and looks away at the pretence of straightening his blazer. Small kindnesses – he hates crying in front of other people, and it seems Santana is the same.
“Don’t you Warblers ever wear normal clothes?” she says, and he looks up, catching the chance to change the subject.
“What, like you public school kids? No thanks,” he says, and Santana rolls her eyes, the ghost of a smile starting to form on face.
“Well, maybe it’s a good thing. Blaine out of uniform makes me want to claw my eyes out.”
Sebastian laughs, and he expects the sound to be too loud, too foreign for the room, but it’s not.
“I assure you, the rest of us have much better taste in clothes. And if that fails, I can just walk around naked. Nobody complains.”
Santana laughs too, shaking her head.
“That’s because they’ve all gone blind, or died from horror.”
“Or they’re too busy sucking my –”
Santana covers her eyes with one hand, the other waving at him to stop.
“Oh God, the images,” she says, but she’s grinning. “Dirty little boy, aren’t you?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he says, and he can feel the familiar smirk on his face.
“Please,” Santana says, scoffing. “Even if I was into dick, I’m sure yours would be thoroughly disappointing.”
There’s a sharp intake of breath, and a nurse hurries past them, shooting Santana a shocked look before exiting. They look at each other as the doors swing shut, and burst into laughter, trying to muffle the sound behind their hands. They only end up snorting at the same time, which sets them off again, and for the first time Sebastian realises he has tears in his eyes from laughing. Santana presses her lips together, still giggling, and he’s relieved to see she’s the same.
When the laughter dies down, Sebastian knows he has to do what he came here for.
“I…should –”
“Yeah, right.” Santana says, and he’s thankful they’re on the same wavelength. They may not be inclined to stab each other anymore, but they’re not…friends. Especially after –
“Santana,” he says, and she pauses, already heading for the door. He takes a breath. “I’m sorry about that slushy. The one after our duel.”
She turns back, slowly. Considering her options. If he were her, he’d smack himself down. But she had other choices. Other paths to take.
“You should be,” she says, but not in the tone he’d half expected. “You owe me.”
“Coffee?” he suggests, because heck, he has choices too.
“No way,” Santana says. “I deserve more. Breadstix, six o’clock. Normal clothes.” She pauses. “And don’t forget your credit card.”
Sebastian watches her walk away, and smiles before heading in the opposite direction. Santana was one tough bitch – but so was he. Two could play at any game, but two people could also have something else: respect. And no matter how grudging, how snarky, how hidden – it was there, pulling them through. Life had been a war for as long as Sebastian could remember, but maybe, just maybe, it didn’t need to be.
Maybe that’s what Santana was teaching him. From one bitch to another.
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I tried writing this like a friendship/character study of sorts, because I love both Santana and Sebastian, and the way we can actually have a legit friendship between them now, especially after On My Way.
This was written as a one-shot, but I do want to continue exploring Sebtana and possibly write some hospital visit fics.
