#f2f.003

Cup still in hand, she wandered to the patio out back, the cool air a welcome change from the hot chaos inside. She pulled out her phone and opened up the camera, to snap some selfies because she looked fly and figured the moment needed to be remembered. Her gaze drifted and she smiled at the familiar figured emerging through the back door and out onto the patio. “Hiya. Get in here, we’re taking cute pics.”

Santana hangover wasn’t as slight as she would have hoped. She woke up to her eyes repelling the sun, and last nights tequila crumbling her brain from putting together thoughts past, pucks, drunk last night, maybe a moment between? She needed a rebound from it, and CC’s eggs and coffee (with a slip of whiskey in it) sounded perfect. 

She headed over to the diner directly from Pucks. Still clad in his shirt, she slipped on her daisy dukes in her car from the night before, and slipped into the kitchen of the Diner. On the way she put her order in, kissing the chef on their cheek as payment for sliding her order, free of charge, in front of the line. After, she headed to Tina’s office, collapsing in the chair. She sent a text: “tinaaaaaaaaaa. i’m in the office,” alerting her to her presence- and she was definitely in a mood. 

who: @hcclarington

when: saturday night. 10.06

notes: cheesy birthday gifts, and huntana being assholes most likely. 

Santana knew Hunter’s birthday party was an excuse to get mildly dressed up, in a town where L.L. Bean boots could be considered attire for a black-tie affair; so with that alone she was excited for his birthday. Then, there was the added benefit it was to celebrate Hunter. A friend she didn’t think ten years later she would want to attend their birthday party other than for free food and drinks. But to show up with a gift in hand she paid for (with her own money) and thought long and hard about? Definitely a turn of events she was happy about.

The present was a mug with various photos of his cat on it (and one of Puckfasa because he should be on everyone’s cup) and a card. It was tucked away in a gift bag, neatly put together. They were mid-way through the party when Santana saddled up to Hunter’s side. Nudging her shoulder into his and thrusting her head towards the doors that lead to the backyard. “Gift time, birthday boy, and a blunt if you’re into it.” She whispered to him, before beginning to make her exit.

LOCATION: The Maggie

TAGGING: open to anyone 

WHEN: 9/23, early evening

NOTES: no warnings for now, aside from mentions of alcohol (obvs)

Most of the town was still reeling from the events after the game. It was all anyone could talk about, and Sam had already seen far too many posts online, sharing the pictures and offering theories that only grew wilder with every retweet. Opening the bar wouldn’t exactly give him a break from the non-stop talk, but at least he’d have his hands busy. Homecoming only strengthened his resolve to get back to Boston soon. This shit was no longer his business, or his concern. In the meantime, he could attempt to do the job his father clearly couldn’t. 

He’d left James at home, with a dinner that would probably remain untouched in favor of whatever bottle he’d stashed from his son. Sam grit his teeth at the thought, shaking out broad shoulders while he stacked clean glasses near the taps. It was all setup, the TVs were on and the jukebox cued up an old Sam Cooke classic in preparation for an evening that would probably be livelier thanks to the latest gossip. 

The doors were barely open fifteen minutes when the first people came in, a group of much older alumni Sam didn’t recognized but served nonetheless as more people trickled in. They talked amongst themselves in small groups and he leaned against the bar, arms crossed and sort of paying attention to the TV when a familiar face stepping into the bar caught his eye. “Hey there. Figured all I’d see for a few hours were the early bird drinkers.” He nodded to the empty stool in front of where he stood. “What’s your poison? I’ve always wanted to say that, by the way.”

Quinn had gone through an assortment of outfits before she finally settle on a white baby doll dress. The top had intricate lace stitched into the draping of the white dress. It was short, letting her long legs gallivant freely from the thin material that hung loosely around her curves. It was a mini dress with a hemline that tip toed along the line of rebellious and sexy. it was short, yes, but it was still classy and simple; which was a style Quinn always strived for. Pairing it with white flats, and pushing her pearl earrings through her pierced ears she felt ready for her non date. Her blonde hair had loose curls bouncing in her thick mane. The deep part enabling a few curls to run free from the entrapment of being tucked behind her ear. They tickled her cheeks as she bounded the stairs. The small basked of chocolate chip cookies and brownies were in the case awaiting her in the kitchen. She made sure to pack a bag of Doritoes since word was Sam was an enthusiast of them. Quinn wasn’t particularly nervous to hang out with Sam, but excited. She was intrigued by his good boy nature and their swift turns in conversation from pleasant, bickering, and back to playful, and even innocent flirtation. The fact he freely complimented her without her having to go to pathetic levels of asking for one was another plus. When she saw lights blaring down her street and the loud purr of a truck she yelled a Good night to her parents before rushing out the door. She wasn’t prepared for her father to try and ask a billion and one questions or taunt her about the ‘harlet’ type behavior she was enacting on by going to the movies with Sam. When she saw the blonde mop of hair in the window her cheeks rose from the smile curving into her glossed lips. “Hey Samuel.”