Salt of the Earth

Fucking damn it.  How the hell was Zane just magically around whenever her boyfriend needed him?  It was like he was his mistress, only she was pretty certain the blonde wasn’t the geopath’s type.  She pressed her lips in a firm line to bite back her irritation as she read the reply on his phone.  Sometimes she forgot that he was just as stubborn as she was, with the stupid benefit of two years longer in the system and being a handful of years older than she was.  The winged teenager didn’t want to admit it, but the bastard just had the better game.  His fingers ran across her back and she shivered, though whether it was from him or the wind picking up along the Boardwalk hell if she knew.  But he kept coming, sliding his arms around her to give her that stupid sense of solace that she always got when he was close.  The one where she just wanted to stay here and let things be okay all because he said they were.  She didn’t know how to fix anything that was going on; which—if she was being honest with herself—was possibly why she was afraid of letting Monroe fix this for her. The young Latina bit her lip nervously as she listened to his reply.  It was true—he always seemed to get reassigned with the weirdest roommates any time anyone new came in.  Santana shifted slightly from her place in his arms—he seemed so certain and…well, it could work, right?  And it wouldn’t be like there wouldn’t be two doors and a hallway separating them if they needed some space.  It could be okay, right?  She wondered if he could hear the way her heart was pounding in her chest as it pressed up against him, the damn thing already having made up it’s mind.  The Latina felt stupid, but she wanted this; if she couldn’t be with Britt, someone she knew accepted her, flaws and all, she wanted to be with Monroe—someone that seemed to accept her, flaws and all, even if he didn’t know what all of those flaws were yet.  “You’re sure?” she asked again, dark eyes wide and searching.  “Don’t just do this because you feel bad for me.  I can handle myself.”  

The geopath was probably a few more “are you sures?” short of yelling at her to take the damn offer. It was like he had to repeat himself over and over again because he was going to suddenly, out of nowhere, change his mind and drop the whole conversation. He rolled his eyes, “I know you can handle yourself, Santana. That’s never been called into question.” His tone went softer as his hand moved to gently cup her cheek as he looked into her eyes with his much less icy, cold gaze, “I’m your boyfriend. I’m here to come through for you. If you don’t have me to support you physically, emotionally and every other way then what am I doing here?” He ran his thumb along her cheek gently. “I want to do this for you, because it feels right and for the first time in this relationship, I might actually be sure about something the first time it comes around.” He gave a small smile at the end, poking fun of himself and how unsure and unstable he felt on relationship-type ground, but with this decision. He was sure. And that meant something.

The Warg huffed slightly, not wanting to encourage their playful banter further.  “What about Snake Boy, Monroe?  This?”  She held up the application.  “It’s due tomorrow—if I did this, you’re basically assuming he won’t mind having that empty room occupied.  By your girlfriend.”  The leather on her back was still fighting her desire at intensity, more interested in the fingers pressing into their base and causing them to push out slightly away from her back, though not too obviously thankfully, as she wanted to be upset, not turned on at the moment.  It would really be a lot easier if the damn geopath would stop saying such sappy things.  Even more messed up was how the Latina felt a pang of regret when he emphasized that she wouldn’t be living in his room—hadn’t she just been arguing that she didn’t want that?  That was why she didn’t want to even share the apartment, right?  Devil she was a mess.  The witch’s teeth scraped along her bottom lip as he pointed out that their main issue—communication—wouldn’t change and could be dealt with the same whether they shared the space or not.  “So is that the point of this?” she asked.  “We live in closer proximity, you figure I can’t hide away when I get stupid? Kind of Sting of you really.”  Tanned arms couldn’t help but wrap around him as he continued to poke holes in her argument.  To be honest, Santana hadn’t chosen to live with Brittany in Hazel Run, but she’d spent enough time over at the girl’s house in Lima that they’d fallen into an easy pattern.  With Brittany, she’d never felt like anything was expected of her—the witch wanted to take care of her, stay with her.  Not that she didn’t want that with Monroe…the Latina frowned as she considered the difference between the blonde and the dark-haired boy before her—would choosing to share a room really cause that much disparity?  The hardest part, as he pointed out that they already loved each other, was that her heart had already seemed to make up its mind as it beat wildly in her chest as he pushed for her.  “Have you ever lived with someone?  Like this, I mean?” she asked, looking up at him in hesitation.  This already seemed to be such an impulsive decision, and while she wasn’t as good at debating or rational thinking in general as he was, the raven-haired girl wanted to make sure he realized more than the cheese aspect of what he was getting into. “I mean, I’ve never heard of you living with anyone you really even tolerated since we met.  You just kind of avoid them.”  She arched an eyebrow challengingly at the elemental—maybe Santana wasn’t one for living alone, but Monroe always seemed to be, had always enjoyed his privacy.  Wouldn’t having her around twenty-four hours a day eventually grate on him?  

He held up a finger at her rant, telling her to wait a moment while he brought his phone out and quickly typed a message entailing the situation to his roommate. The message came back quickly basically telling him that she practically lived there already and she hadn’t really done anything to disrupt their living so something could be worked out. “He’s fine with it.” He held the phone in front of her for her to read the message texted back to him. Yet another hole poked into her argument. It was starting to get pretty flimsy from where he was standing.”Oh come on, that’s not what I was saying.” He said softly, running his fingers over her wings and back once more before just hugging her to him, shielding her from the breeze coming off the boardwalk as well as whatever was plaguing her emotionally. He always wanted her to feel safe, to feel comfortable, and to feel loved. He looked down at her and gave a shrug, “Not going into it, but my college roommate wasn’t bad and I think Owen and I have a pretty decent working roommate relationship going on. I mean its not like we fight when we’re both home at the same time or anything. And you have to admit that some of the agency people had a fucking sick sense of humor in sticking weirdos in my room all the time when the others got transferred. And that was the thing though, half the time I lashed out at them because the agency shoved them into my personal space and expected me to acclimate them and deal with all their shit. With you, you’re more adjusted than I am and I’m offering this to you. It’s not being forced on me. That’s the difference.”