entrancelogs | Just Feel Better [backdated]

Entry tags:

Just Feel Better [backdated]

Who: Santana Lopez (

itsahotone) and John Blake (

oversight)
Where: Out and About
When: Thursday, February 27, 2014
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A plethora of concerns result in Blake losing track of his cellphone, only to find that it's fallen into the hands of one Santana Lopez. Joy.
The Story:
It's been more than a day since the last time John's used his phone, and he's beginning to suspect that it's been gone longer than that. It's unlike him to lose track of anything, let-alone the phone he's been tied to for over a year. However, with Dean not answering, and with Crowley no longer in the picture, and with the aftermath of Tom's killing spree through Wonderland, Blake must have set it down somewhere (probably in the kitchen while simultaneously reading his notes, making dinner, and trying to decide the next step in any number of plans he currently has in place).

Normally he wouldn't be concerned. Most phones have built in security features and most people in Wonderland are the types to return it without too much snooping. Unfortunately, John's never trusted any "security" offered by Wonderland aside from always keeping the phone on his person, and the longer it's gone, the more worried he gets.

So, he goes looking, and since he's already keeping an eye out for Winchester, it won't be that much of a change of pace.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Here's the thing: Santana's not even really trying to keep it under-wraps that she's got a lost phone. Sure, she didn't announce it over the network or something, but she's been snooping through it in public spaces for the past couple days.

Like right now, she's sitting in the kitchen, perched on a counter. She has a spoon dipped in chocolate frosting she's licking like a popsicle, and is scrolling through some texts like it's the best gossip rag ever.

So great, even, that when she hears footsteps, she slips the device ever so smoothly down the front of her dress. What? She doesn't want to miss anything.

Blake's re-tracing his steps, not for the first time. The kitchen was one of the first places he looked, and while he's conducted several thorough searches, he hasn't had any luck. Santana's new, though, and he takes note of her presence with a tight smile and a nod of acknowledgement.

"Sorry, just gonna—" He gestures to the pantry and opens the door. "Be outta your hair here in a coupla minutes." And from there, he paws around, moving cans and bags and containers. It's unlikely that he'll find his phone here, that he would have taken it into the pantry in hand in the first place, but he's at a loss as to what to do other than keep looking until its return.

Santana continues licking her spoon.

"Looking for something?" she asks after a long moment of his search. Just because she knows the answer doesn't mean she shouldn't ask.

(He's pointedly ignoring the existence of spoons for the time being.)

Backing out of the pantry, John keeps looking, but he's no longer moving things around. "Yeah, lookin' for my phone, actually," he says. His voice is distant. "Misplaced it, I guess." Which is distressing enough in its own right; there was a point when he didn't make such stupid mistakes, and it's been since Wonderland that things have started going downhill in that regard.

He runs a hand across his mouth, back and forth, thoughtfully observing the overstocked pantry. Where could it be?

"That sucks." Short and sweet. She'd offer to help, but she knows exactly where his phone is.

Also, she wouldn't offer to help.

"Don't be too hard on yourself," she adds with a helpful smile. "You were probably just tied up and had other things to think about."

That's... weird. He doesn't quite feel like it's entirely out of place, but Santana's statement does strike him as strange. Eyebrows knit, but instead of giving in to his curiosity, he merely nods and begins looking in the cupboards.

"Really doesn't help that this place is huge. Could be anywhere, y'know?" He says it all like it's so benign, but truthfully, he's concerned that there's a little too much on that phone.

"Mmhmm." Santana finishes off her frosting-covered spoon but keeps a hold on it. "And there's like, a lot of private stuff on private phones, you know? I hope you deleted all that junk."

Does her voice sound like she's implying he's an idiot if he hadn't?

Good.

"Well, I—" Blake stumbles over his own words. "—didn't know I was gonna lose it." And it isn't as if he hasn't thought about that. But having a reminder placed right in front of him doesn't exactly make him feel good.

Doors open and close until he finally feels the tug of frustration. He is an idiot, and he probably would have deleted all that stuff if he didn't have a pretty solid grasp on hubris.

He rests bolt hands on the counter and looks down the length of it, eyes settling on Santana. "Haven't heard of anyone findin' a phone, have you?" he asks, quite pointedly, in fact.

If she cared more about not getting caught, she would certainly change the topic right about now--not that that wouldn't be suspicious alone. But part of the fun of this sometimes is letting the other person know what you got away with.

"Nope," she says, and it's the truth. She hasn't heard of 'anyone' finding it, because why would she hear about herself finding it? "Oh, but I may have found something! I'm not saying I have an alter ego or multiple personalities or anything, you just should have been more specific."

Oh, god.

There's a moment of panic. He feels like sinking into the floor. Right there, back to back, admission and proof. His jaw tightens unexpectedly and he tries to remind himself it's not the end of the world. Maybe they can work this out.

"What's it gonna take to get my phone back?" Straight to the point, because he senses that she's already got her claws out for this battle.

Santana looks way too happy. She wasn't even planning on blackmail! Thanks for the idea though, bro.

She waves her spoon around a little and shrugs.

"I have a few questions if you'd like to answer them," she finally replies, as if he has a choice. You will answer them.

Blake's arms cross over his chest, and while he's probably meant to look aggressive, what really appears to happen is that he takes on a awfully passive stance. He can't exactly do anything to Santana, and really, at this point, the odds are pretty slim that anyone's going to believe her if she does tell the whole of Wonderland his secrets. Right? Honestly, they're bound to sound absurd. Absolutely insane.

"Somethin' tells me I don't got a lotta choice," he bites back, speaking as if offering a fact, not insinuating; he recognizes her tone for what it is. He nods his head, expectantly awaiting the first question, heart on overdrive as Blake already begins planning what he'll do with this aftermath of this situation.

"Great! Okay, first...did Tom seriously have a big gay freakout? Cause seriously, that would have been a way more fun event than what actually happened."

Clearly this shit is more important than alter egos and junk.

Blake can't help but let out something of a world-weary sigh. Is that really what Santana's most concerned with? He shakes his head, feeling a little silly for not expecting such a juvenile question.

"Maybe I was bein' a little dramatic, but—" As he takes another breath, he almost reserves himself to the torture this is bound to be. "He was ignorant, that's all. Didn't know better, assumed a lotta stuff, told me I oughta wear some kinda earring..." As much as he's looking down on Lopez for what she's doing, he's gossiping just the same, isn't he?

And for what it's worth, he's still a little butthurt over that confrontation, probably one of the pettier things he's indulged in recently.

He should be thankful this is what she's most concerned about. Gossip is fun, and she knows he agrees, remember. Because she has his phone.

"Just the earring? No handkerchief in the pocket?" She snickers. She wouldn't have thought Tom would be that way, but then, she also wouldn't have thought he'd secretly turn into a horrible mass murderer and all that.

"Frosting?" she offers so very nicely.

When he fixes her with a flat look, it's only because it's likely she's already guessed correctly that he can't resist. He's familiar enough with fables about strangers bearing gifts, but with recent events pressing in on him, he might actually need that frosting. As he clears away some of the distance between them, he retrieves a spoon from the drawer.

"Just the earring. Called it a 'warning symbol,'" he says, articulately, at that, while leaning back against the counter once again. Christ, what has he gotten himself into here?

"Came 'round pretty quick, at least." One of the few pros of the last couple of months.

Santana lets out a laugh that is not at all dainty and girlish.

"Warning symbol. Guess I should get my flannel and Birkenstocks from the closet." She scoops out some more frosting and takes a lick or two. "How'd he come around? Did you show him what he was missing?"

Snicker.

Talking about all of this (again) isn't exactly thrilling to start, but at least she's not being cruel about any of it... yet. Just dutifully smart-mouthed, and that's something Blake's had a lot of experience handling.

With a sigh, he pulls himself up to sit on the counter as well, his spoon seeking out that pot of frosting.

Blake shakes his head, fixing her with a look. "You really wanna know the answer to that? Pretty sure it doesn't matter at this point." Which is to say, he didn't do anything but inform Tom of his own perspective on things, but she doesn't have to know that.

"Please. Of course I wanna know. I mean, I doubt it's as good as what I'm imagining, but hey, they can't all be winners."

She is absolutely pretending the whole Tom thing didn't even happen, at this point. It's way more fun to discuss gay freakouts rather than, you know. Murder and shit.

If he could ignore what happened with Tom, he probably would. As it stands, it occupies Blake's mind, along with a hundred other things that feel immediately pressing. At least the frosting tastes good, and it gives him enough time to consider the point behind all of this. Does Santana really care?

When he finally speaks up, his voice is quiet. "Was 'bout as 'gay's okay'-after-school-special as it gets, actually. Kinda surprised he went for it, but..." Honestly, Blake hadn't said anything he didn't already believe to be true.

"The guy comes from a small town. Pretty sure it's the kinda place where people forget they got a closet to come out of. For their own good."

That...actually gets Santana to sober up a bit from her giddy gossip mode. The small town thing sort of hits home for her, and her memories of That Time still aren't the easiest for her to think about.

So she just nods at first. Quiet.

"Yeah." Aaand that moment of introspection is done. "Whatever; he better be okay with it considering he's got his own way worse issues to deal with than if you like dick or not."

Boy, Santana, you sure do have a way with words.

Blake almost chides her for the crassness, but that slight change in her is noticeable enough that he decides it's not worth it, especially since he expects she'd take exception.

"Yeah, that was..." He hesitates, because Blake has a lot of ~feelings~ about Tom's killing spree, up to and including a pretty weighty guiltiness for inaction on his own part, forced or otherwise. "That was somethin' else."

And then a somewhat critical look at the girl. It's easy to pretend that people like Santana — those aggressively, allegedly uncaring types — brush things off easily. John certainly knows better than that. "You make it through okay? Everyone's good?" he asks.

How dare you; her crassness is something to appreciate and practically worship.

Ahem.

"I'm here, aren't I?" How dare he try being all serious and normal-conversation-y when she is trying to gossip and make him uncomfortable! "Never dead for long around this place."

He wants to believe her, but some part of him knows they all suffer a lot more than they'd like to admit. It's not a get out of death free card, not by a long shot, not when you have to deal with the trauma of being killed, and then returning, and the aftermath (especially all your friends calling you an idiot for letting yourself get killed in the first place).

"Yeah, well. Here's better'n some alternatives, I guess." A shrug. He's not sure what else to say, because it's true. And while he knows that Santana's from the same place as Blaine, he's guessing she's heard of more than a few of the awful places some residents come from. It really could be much, much worse.

Finally, he gestures. "How 'bout that phone now?"

Wow, excuse you. Santana would have to punch anyone that called her an idiot for getting killed.

(Except herself; she's called herself that enough for everyone.)

"Hmm, almost. One more question."

(He's certainly counted himself an idiot enough times to not argue too heavily against the accusation, that's for sure.)

"Yeah, okay, one more question," he says, hoping that repeating as much would solidify that fact into the universe. As far as he's concerned, this has gone a lot better than it might have otherwise, and while he doesn't want to push his luck, he doesn't think it's too much to dream for a little mercy here.

"There's kind of a theme in a lot of your text conversations." She pauses to lick at some more frosting. She's so healthy. "Masks and capes and heroes. What's that about?"

Right. See? This is exactly the sort of amateur move that is making Blake question how it is he's been left with such a powerful mantle as that of the Batman. What would Bruce say to knowing that John's phone has all the evidence needed to track him and his loved ones to an untimely end?

He tries to play it off with a shrug. "That stuff with Dean? Inside joke," he says, feeling almost convinced of it himself. "My world's fictional in his world. Thought it was funny." Maybe the most accurate truth being told as an untruth.

"Your world."

Her gaze is intensely focused on his as she hmms against her spoon.

"Right. Well, my town, at least. Gotham," Blake fills in. He usually manages to get a reaction out of people when he says as much. "It's from a comic book where he came from. Guess there are some movies, too." One of which stars Blake, which he happens to have in his possession back in his room, but Santana doesn't need to know that.

He holds out his hand expectantly. "Can I have the phone, then?"

Her intense stare remains for a good, long moment. The tiny part of her that knows of such nerdtastic superhero stuff is quietly putting pieces together.

But it's better to sit on it. Keep it for another day.

Which is why her stare turns into a smile, pure and innocent and totally not hinting at anything else.

"Sure."

She sticks her hand down the front of her own shirt and pulls the phone out of her bra. You're welcome.

He grabs for the phone as soon as it's clear she's willing to give it up. It's not as if it'll make a difference how quickly he gets it back — what's done is done — but that doesn't stop him from wanting this to be over. Santana, as nice as she appears to be, has an edge that means he doesn't like to give her an inch, else she might kick him in the balls.

Nevertheless, it feels like he ought to be appreciative. Blake, in the meantime, smiles as genuinely as he can manage. "Thank you," he says, somehow keeping the relief out of his voice. All he needs is his phone and then he can leave and... hope for the best.

Santana would laugh if she knew his thoughts. As for now, she simply returns his smile, still as bright and innocent as ever.

Anything else she learned from his phone, she can keep to herself. For now.

"You're totally welcome. I'm glad we got a chance to chat."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Just Feel Better [backdated]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

WOW, SELF, way to forget this magic

♫ do you believe in magic~ ♫

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

HEY LET US ACTUALLY FINISH THIS BASICALLY-DONE THREAD!