Come Save Me || Artana

santanaamariee:

When she heard his voice she whipped her head around to find him, her eyes squinting to focus so she would stop seeing two of him. Sitting out in the cold had cleared her head a little bit, but she was still pretty drunk, and all she wanted to do right now was crash out in a bed. “Arthur!” Santana exclaimed loudly. “I’m so glad you came!” She stood up cautiously, walking over to him with her arms out and her heels and phone in her hand before dropping in to his lap. “The caution tape came unraveled. Warren gave me a shirt. We both decided that pasties and a thong were not proper party attire.” She giggled a little and put her heels in her lap before wrapping her arms around his neck. “Take me back to your humble abode, because I’m not allowed to ride the subway this way.” 

She tightened her arms when he started moving, and silently prayed that this would be a quick trip, since her head was starting to hurt a little, and it was too cold for her to be without pants. But since all she had was a lap to sit on, she couldn’t properly curl up to keep warm. Santana honestly wished she’d asked for sweats, but she’d been a little hazy when changing in the first place, so the shirt seemed like enough at the time. Plus, the cold was sobering her up slowly, and making her thank God that she didn’t get hangovers. Just a little bit of head pounding before crashing out, and a greasy breakfast the next morning and she’d be fine. She pressed her face in to the junction between his neck and his shoulder, letting herself rest against him as he wheeled. “I’m glad you agreed to go on a date with me, boo. Supertroopers is really funny.” She giggled against his skin before pressing a kiss to the small amount that was uncovered. “And I mean, who wouldn’t want us to date? We’re sexy.” 

Artie wheeled back towards the dorm, laughing at her calling it a “humble abode.” It wasn’t the cleanest of dorm rooms at the moment, and it was small and cold, but Artie was grateful for the fact that he didn’t have a roommate for the semester. How else would he explain carrying a drunk girl in on his lap and letting her crash there? He tried to keep his breathing regular when she tightened her arms around him, inhaling her perfume and realizing that her huge shirt was unbuttoned, revealing the top of her chest. He was fine with looking straight ahead of him as he neared the front door of the dorms, but then she started speaking, breathing on his neck, and slightly kissing him there, and Artie felt like his functioning was becoming unraveled.

“Ah-uhm—yeah, sure, of course,” Artie said, to him “agreeing” to going on a date with her. He pressed his lips together and told himself that it wasn’t a kiss, it was just an accident. She was drunk and her face just happened to be leaning against his shoulder, close to his skin. “I’m sure—Supertroopers is awesome,” he said, blushing and rolling inside the automatic doors, grateful for the warmth of the lobby. His wheels clicked across the tile as he headed for the elevator. He smiled when she called them both sexy. “And hell yeah we sexy,” he added, sounding more like himself. He wrapped one hand around her waist, slightly guiding her into a more upright position on his lap, and then used the other to push the button on the elevator. When the doors open he rolled inside and settled his hand on Santana’s leg, trying to steady her.

“You can just knock out on my head when we get up there,” he said to Santana, looking her in the eyes. “I can—make myself a bed on the floor, or something, so that you have space. Oh, and if you feel sick at any point, please lemme know. I’m all for taking care of you while you’re highly inebriated, but I ain’t try’na deal with no projectile vommit.”

Come Save Me || Artana

santanaamariee:

Santana had spent most of the night wrapped in caution tape, stumbling on five inch high heels, and drinking down a dangerous amount of everclear. It’s what she had planned on, how she’d always spent these ABC parties that the football boys planned. But while she normally found someone to go home with, or found a bed, couch, or floor with one of her girlfriends, tonight had been different. Her entire night had been spent texting Artie, and she was pretty sure she’d missed half of the fun bits of the party because she’d been so engrossed in her phone. At one point, her large, gay, linebacker friend had told her that if she didn’t quit texting and start participating, he’d take her phone. But after telling him that it was a boy, who’d decided to go on a date with her, he left her well enough alone. 

So, as the party died down, and Santana had dressed in a button up that was at least four sizes too big for her, she waited for her knight in shining armor to show up. She was glad he was coming to pick her up, because Warren was a bit of a snuggle whore, and she didn’t feel like cuddling with her sassy gay friend when she could be cuddling with Arthur Abrams, future date. She wondered what would actually happen when he showed up, or later. Santana was drunk, and she was hella handsy and cuddly when she was this intoxicated. After she relocated her heels and tossed her caution tape in the trash, she walked down the stairs and parked herself on the bench in front of the building so she was easier to find. 

Artie wheeled across the dark, cold Columbia campus, turning left from his dorms and finding the tall steel building, just as Santana had described it. He was dressed in a beanie, glasses, a thick scarf, and a Northface—he was wimp whenever it got cold, and it wasn’t like he had a lot of insulation on his slim little body anyway—and he’d taken out his phone to call Santana, but he saw her before his finger could press dial. She was sitting on a bench dressed in a huge guy shirt, gazing around like she was really, really out of it. Artie didn’t have a lot of experience with drunk girls, since he usually avoided them in lieu of knowing how to help them, but he couldn’t help but offer to pick up Santana from this random ABC party. She’d said that the guy she was going to sleep next to was gay, but that didn’t mean that all the guys in that place were. The idea of her passing out in the middle of a packed football party around a bunch of guys had made him suddenly uneasy. Maybe it was weird that he even cared, but like he said, he couldn’t help it. Besides, Santana had admitted that she thought he was “so damn cute,” and they were going to have a date date soon. There was something here now between them. Or something. Wasn’t there? Or maybe it was just the alcohol on Santana’s part.

Artie came close to her, catching wind of loud music coming from the building. He made eye contact with her and smiled, just barely buzzed from the alcohol he’d consumed about an hour ago. “Hey, you took off your caution tape,” he observed, fixing his glasses. “And here I thought that I was going to be able to see your costume.” He was sort of nervous about this, about apparently coming to rescue her, but he gestured for her to sit in his lap regardless. He supposed he’d take her to his dorm room and let her sleep on his bed, and that was all. He figured that she wouldn’t be up long, since she’d texted that she was almost passed out anyway. Santana was drunk and Artie knew he kinda liked her, but this was going to be fine…right?

Text || Artana

Text || Artana

Text || Artana

Text || Artana

Text || Artana

Text || Artana

Text || Artana