Santana wasn’t sure if making the cupcakes was the best of ideas but she was already feeling a little drunk and she couldn’t think straight. She sat on one of the kitchen benches before sipping the amazing cocktail he had mixed for them. “Seriously dude, these drinks rock. You should just buy a bar and make this your living….I’d totally come to the bar Puckerone for some cocktails, anyday!” She smirked and watched him starting to mix shit together, not helping as she didn’t know how to bake to save her life. She had never needed to cook or bake before, her parents always ordered meals to go and never even used the oven. It had been used recently, with Berry living with her and all that but it was still alien to Santana. She sighed and glanced down, texting Sebastian a few times before she dropped her phone to one side and just took in a few deep breaths. “He doesn’t think I care about him….he thinks I’m gonna just fuck you. He really doesn’t see that I’m in love with him, Puck” she sobbed. “What am I supposed to do to prove anything to him when he never believes me…..he wouldn’t even let me be the transplant, that would have shown it more than anything”. She sighed and sat back on the bench, sipping more of her drunk, just wishing things were simpler.
“Welcome to bar Puckarone, be hot and you’ll get a free drink. And also sex from the owner.” he said with a low voice as if he was speaking into an ad. Focusing on the cupcakes, he still listened what Santana was saying, sipping the cocktail he had made. “He didn’t let you be it cause it hurted and it’s a guy thing, I wouldn’t let you or Rachel do it for me either. If I was in his shoes.” he said then, breaking an egg on the bowl. “The douche’s wetting his bed for you, don’t worry.” he said, finishing his cocktail cause fuck it was good. “And cause I’m basically a God, he’s gonna live, and you get to work this shit out.” he said, eyes still on the baking. “You two must have awesome make up sex. You fight all the fucking time. You two are worse than me and.. Yeah, whatever.” he cleared his throat. “Hand me the drugs.” he asked, holding his hand out as she was closer to them than he. He was supposed to get fucked up, have fun, and just forget Rachel. Not think about her. Not miss her. He just obviously needed more alcohol or this whole ‘I’m not broken, I just want to be drunk’ shit he had going on wasn’t going to work out.