Chapter Text
Santana started in the attic.
It was dusty and gross and not filled with all the little treasures she'd been hoping to find up there. No secret stashes of gold and jewels, just boxes of old kid's clothes that looked way too expensive for children to appreciate. The abundance of baby bow ties was truly sickening, she needed to escape before she hurled.
Everyone else was downstairs by about 6pm, so she had free reign of the third and second floors. Obviously, she started on the third where her only obstacle was the maid. By this time she had been at the Smythe mansion for two days and had taken full advantage of the staff. At least two would make her wonderful acquaintance each hour, get her something to eat or drink or throw out the window to see how big of a splash it made when it hit the pool below.
They all quite liked her despite her demands, probably because she would always ask for two of whatever she wanted and make sure whoever brought it to her had one. They would sit and talk and gossip about how fucking awful this family was.
So when Santana wanted to snoop around the third floor bedrooms, the maid was happy to let her, even unlocked some for her.
It was appreciated, but not especially helpful, most of those rooms were guest rooms or bathrooms or abandoned offices. Only one was at all interesting, and that was the music room. Covered in dust and damp, it was fucking vile quite frankly, but the piano was beautiful and the guitar was in tune so she made a note of it's location to find later. Kurt would love this place. She wondered if anyone else ever did.
The second floor was certainly more intriguing, by miles too.
Pretty much everyone was staying on the second floor. Amélie's room, Harold's room, Adam's room, Daniel's room, Jonathon and Louisa's room, Sebastian's room, Kurt's room. Only Santana was staying on the third floor and she was sure that was only because they wanted to prevent her from getting all premarital with their son.
Yuck.
She started her little search with Amélie's room, because duh, who wouldn't? That insane, sexy, racist piece of shit was fascinating. So Santana did a full sweep.
So. Many. Chemicals.
Skin care, makeup, peels, masks, laser stuff too, that machine that basically burns your flesh so no hair can grow on it. There were some syringes and liquids in makeshift containers under her bed as well, Lord knows what that was about but Santana had an inkling it was not legal.
A cupboard in her en suite held two Plan B packs and a box of condoms which rested on a pocket bible. Either her and Harold were a lot more active than Santana suspected, or Amélie was somehow sneaking other men in there to fuck. That would be very in character.
Then came the fun part: walk in closet time.
So. Many. Clothes.
Damn, this girl had taste.
Everything was white, cream, light, beautiful and virginal colours that would do her body justice. The shoes were aplenty, most with heels, even the fucking sports trainers, and there were more bras than any one woman could possibly need. Lingerie, jewellery spilling out of chests, training corsets, wigs, everything anyone could want. She spent half of the solo walk in tour wearing a big, blonde wig and way too high stilettos. She put them in their rightful places before leaving.
Onto Daniel's room.
Good God, that BO smell hit like a truck. No wonder he drowned himself in enough cologne every day to stink up every room he so much as grazed by, boy stank. Which was shocking considering how clean the room was.
Bed made, decor organised, desk clean, picture frames straight. Santana searched every inch for something damning but Daniel seemed clean. The worst she uncovered was a porno magazine, an old one. He must have nicked it from his dad or something, because no normal 20-something would have that. Either he had never heard of the internet, or he had some real purity problems.
Likely the latter.
The only thing in this room that was unclean, aside from the stench, was the bin, which was damn near overflowing. There was some orange peels and chocolate wrappers in there, but most of it's contents were paper.
Curious, of course, Santana plucked one sheet out and gave it a look.
It was an exam paper. Not an official one, it was printed in slightly faded ink, the font was comic sans and it was only one sided. The questions seemed a little weird too.
'What is a law?'
'How does the supreme court work?'
'How would one defend themselves in court fir shoplifting?'
Oh this had Amélie written all over it.
And Daniel's answers were just as weird. Well, not weird, perhaps just bad. Even Santana knew that laws weren't suggestions, and she certainly knew how to spell judge.
This kid should not be studying law, Jesus Christ.
He also should not be letting his mother help him, she could not think of anything less useful than having Amélie as a psuedo tutor.
After adding a few passive aggressive corrections to Daniel's work, Santana placed the paper on his desk and left the room.
Next up, Jonathon and Louisa's room. She had a feeling this one would be good.
That feeling was right.
The bed was huge and neat, but there was a big pillow seperating the two sides of it. There were empty beer cans on one bedside cabinet, wine glasses on the other, and a tobacco pipe on the vanity alongside a couple disposable vapes. There were ashes scrubbed into the carpet. Like, ew.
Then there were the used condoms in the bin. Santana hadn't seen them at first, they were buried under some tissues and newspapers in a way that seemed very intentional. She accidentally brushed one with her hand and manically wiped at it to get the cooties off.
Yuck. Yuck. Yuuuuckkkkk.
She left the room pretty soon after that.
In Adam's room, nothing of note could be found. It was basically just a guest room, though Santana did find some condoms in his bin too.
Camille's room was perfectly clean, also a guest room. The only notable thing in there was the food stash in her wardrobe. Girl was a raccoon.
Then, of course, came Harold's room, and Santana was expecting a lot from him. He was a powerful, strange man who seemed intent on getting to know Santana, constantly stopping her in the halls and having a conversation with her over drinks or cigars. All his questions for her revolved around her family and her backstory. He clearly found the fact she didn't come from money interesting, but he found her tales of criminality even more so.
He would push and push for details, smirking and clinking his glass against hers whenever she cracked and talked about some crazy shit she did as a kid. Sometimes she would ask if he ever did anything rebellious and he would just rattle off a list of his successes, labelling them as innovative and groundbreaking enough for him to be considered a rebel within his industry.
He never clarified what that industry was. And Santana never clarified that none of that crap made him a fucking 'rebel', just a narcissist.
So yeah, Santana was expecting something in his room, something interesting, something damning, something she could maybe use to shut him up if he ever got a little too weird with her.
But there was nothing. At. All. His room was speckless in every sense of the word. There might have been some shit in his filing cabinet, but it was locked and none of the maids had the keys to it, only Harold did. A complete waste of time that only served to make the man more of a mystery.
Fucking hell, this family.
Armed with only a little more information than before, Santana retreated to the bottom floor to join everyone else. She walked past Daniel studying in the dining room, Jonathon burning up on the back porch, Louisa and Adam talking quite close in the kitchen, Amélie stretching in front of the TV in the living room, Harold and Camille whispering in his office, until she finally found what she was looking for: Sebastian and Kurt.
The boys were in the games room, a small space connected to the main hallway that was dark and dingey and poorly kept. It was a good hideout spot, and the three could typically be found there during the day.
She entered without knocking and plopped herself on a beanbag opposite the other two, who occupied the loveseat. They paused their conversation when they noticed their friend and turned to her.
"Anything good?" Kurt asked.
"Not really." Santana sighed. "Basically just a ton of confirmation that this family is gross." She sighed again, heavier, but then perked up a little and pointed at Kurt. "Though I did find a music room."
"Oh, really?"
"Yeah, third floor, it's kinda meh but, you know, there's a piano."
"Ooh, that's perfect! I can practice for my audition."
"Though you'd like it, nerd."
"You're also a musician, Santana."
"Yes, but in a cool way."
"Sure."
"What are you guys talking about?" Sebastian finally piped up, getting both sets of eyes turned to him. Kurt gently chuckled, realising in the moment how ridiculous this would sound. Santana didn't seem to think similarly as she plainly replied,
"My search of the house."
"Your what? You searched my house?"
"Of course, I always do it."
"You're demented."
"I'm sensible, I gotta know who I'm dealing with."
"Demented."
"It's not demented to be safe."
"It's demented to hunt down secrets in a stranger's house, you're like a cartoon character."
"Glass houses, Remy." Kurt smirked as he joined the little battle. Santana cackled and Sebastian rolled his eyes fondly.
The three continued throwing insults and one liners at each other in the comfort of their isolation, almost forgetting where they were for a beautiful moment. That is, until a stark reminder came to them in the form of a loud banging at the door.
They went silent, and turned to it, dreading to see a Smythe peer round the corner.
Fortunately, it was a maid who did the peering. Jessica to be exact, someone Santana had grown a bit of a raport with over the last couple days, but who had barely interacted with Kurt, or even Sebastian since she had only joined the staff a month ago. She nervously approached the group and announced to them that lunch was prepared. They all got up to join the rest of the Smythes at the dining table.
Kurt and Sebastian walked ahead, talking quietly amongst themselves. Santana hung back a bit, though, to talk to Jessica.
"What's lunch then?" She asked. Jessica grinned and shook her head in mild disbelief.
"Calamari and salmon salad."
"Ugh, that can't be good."
"Mrs Lavigne insisted, she likes showing off for guests, you should know that by now."
"Still, fuck, that's so much fish." Santana groaned as she and Jessica reached the dining room. "That bitch is so French." She whispered.
Jessica giggled lightly. When she did, she grabbed the attention of everyone at the table, who all looked in the direction of the noise.
Both girls froze momentarily under the pressure of the stares, until Jessica turned her head to the floor and scurried off to the connecting kitchen. Santana watched her, then looked back at the prying eyes of the Smythes.
They kept staring silently. When that silence was finally broken, it was done so by Sebastian pulling out a chair next to him for her to take. She awkwardly did so.
The second her butt hit the seat, everyone went back to normal and continued chatting to one another. Like a switch had flipped.
She met Sebastian's eyes to sus out what she had done wrong, but he just shrugged sadly and started eating. It was all a bit weird. As was everything around there.
No one spoke to her during the meal. Amélie was all over Kurt, Camille interrogated Sebastian about getting into politics, but Santana was left to herself. She got a few side glances every so often, and Daniel and Jonathon would smirk at one another whenever she looked their way, but that was it.
Like... what the fuck did she do?
***
Once lunch was finished, everyone was quick to leave and get back to their own things. Jonathon and Louisa walked off together, Amélie grabbed Kurt and dragged him to the lounge with her, Camille forced Adam to assist her with some papers in her room, despite his insistence that he go elsewhere, and Harold seemed to just disappear. Sebastian waited till it was just himself and Santana to turn to her.
"You can't be nice to them in front of my family, Tana." He whispered. She rolled her eyes.
"Oh my God, is that why everyone's being so fucking-"
"I told you before, that's how they are, okay? I get on with plenty of the staff too but only in private, you have to keep it private."
"Jesus, it's not that big a deal."
"It is to them." He explained, standing up as he did. "It sucks, but that's how it is. Sorry."
"Fuck sake." She huffed. "You are so lucky I like you, Sebastian."
"Trust me." He put a hand on her shoulder, squeezed, and smiled at her. "I know." With that, he left the room to chase after his mother and stop her from further traumatising poor Kurt.
Santana smirked at her friend's behaviour, then frowned at the situation she was in. It shouldn't have surprised her that this would happen, especially after Sebastian's copious warnings about his family's absurdness, but she genuinely believed something as small as having a conversation with the staff wouldn't be a fucking thing, you know? She felt like she was in a Get Out situation.
Oh my God.
She totally was in a Get Out situation.
Again.
Ugh.
Fuck it, she could survive this one too.
She got up from the table and made her way closer to the kitchen, hoping to get something to drink that didn't have fish in it, like she was convinced the mocktail they'd been served with lunch did. Usually the kitchen was occupied only by staff after meals since they needed to clean up, so she figured it would be safe. Of course, though, she was wrong.
She reached the doorway and noticed immediately Harold standing by a counter. He was facing Jessica, who looked upset and nervous in his presence. Santana furrowed her brow as she watched the Smythe mutter something quietly the maid, who only spoke a single word every now and then almost silently.
Eventually, Harold seemed to sense Santana watching and looked in her direction, noticing the girl observing his interaction. He stalked towards her.
She felt fear for the first time in months.
"It's rude to snoop, you know." He drawled, knowing smile on his face. "I thought you were better behaved than that."
Santana cowered under his gaze, feeling her own eyes drift to find Jessica's. Jessica saw her and mouthed 'sorry' before looking away again. Santana remet Harold's stare.
"Um," She gulped. "Sorry."
"Forgiveness is earned, Santana." He said. Then he reached out and grazed a hand along her right arm.
He said nothing further, just shut the door in her face and left her standing outside it, unsure and weirded out.
Goosebumps.