Story: Five Minutes After
Character: Santana, Dave
Disclaimer: I don't own these people, they own themselves and are just nice enough to let me spin them around the page now and then.
Summary: Title says it all. Too affected to write a better summary
Warning: Up to BTW
A/N #1: Sorry if this is too sad for some – I'm playing off the expression on Dave's face in that last scene…
A/N #2: This is a dark piece, a mood piece; it is not how I think Things Will Be. I still hold out the hope for Kurtofsy – some day. This is just a moment in time, five minutes after…Apologies that there isn't more of Santana's reflections and feelings in here, but right now my mind is clouded with David. (He called him David!)
A/N #3: See my Glee fic archive . (Check latest journal entry for most recent updates.)
Five Minutes After
Five minutes after the rest of the glee club had left the auditorium, neither one of them had moved.
She could tell from his breathing that he was fighting it; fighting how affected he was, fighting was he was feeling. And though the proof had never left his eyes, she could see it there, poised for the fall, brimming at the lower lashes, ready and willing to damn him.
That he hadn't been out of there like a shot, said so much.
Like the shaken breath she heard him take, first, when Kurt came out on the stage, again, after he'd left, and now; now that he was coming back down to reality.
He knows what he wants now.
He knows he can never have it.
She reached over, he was so close, and took the hand that was sitting, clenched on his knee; took it in hers, threaded the fingers with her own, and squeezed.
She didn't say anything. She didn't have to say anything.
And the way he squeezed back, tentatively at first, and then, for all he was worth, said it all.