Santana’s full lips pulled into a wicked grin as he repeated the nickname. His attitude towards her insults was always so amusing. Sure, if he wanted to, Blaine could yell and argue and make her feel like a horrible person for the way she acted && the things she said. Yet for some reason, he didn’t. He never pushed her or called her out unless completely necessary. She could respect that. “Now that is hurtful! You really think I would put cheap garbage into my body? That’s so freshman year. This stuff costed well over twenty. I’m not made of money, but I have standards.”
What do you do when the first swallow tastes like the bottom of a shoe pulled from a volcano? You swallow another gulp with the sheer prayer that the next round burns the tastebuds out of your mouth and you don’t have to worry. That’s what Blaine did as Santana nearly made him shoot liquor out of his nose at her chiding him that he wasn’t drinking swill but second shelf price tagged liquor. Thanks to divine intervention–he was saved that possibly life scarring event. Fingers steepled against his chest and he pretended to be totally schooled as laughter pinched his eyes almost shut. “Twenty bucks a bottle? I’m so sorry I insulted your taste in,” his nose scrunched as his mouth reminded him of the flavor on a whim of it’s own, “alcohol, Santana. Of course, of course. Nothing but the best for–.” Time for a fish out of water breath or two and a cinch together of his teeth. “You now,” he picked right back up where he left off. “Wow. What is this?” His arm extended the bottle towards her so she could catch up to his two gulps.
pianokeysandbowties 