Father Knows Best...or Does He? (COMPLETE)

Where, Oh Where Has My Little Girl Gone...and My Drummer...

Gene looked up from thumbing through a magazine as Paul came back downstairs.

"How is she?" He asked his best friend; concern lacing his tone as Santana was his goddaughter.

"Crying her heart out." Paul said, coming over and sitting down. "She won't talk to me...and every time I talk to her, she cries even more."

"That's to be expected." Gene said. "I wouldn't talk to you either if you barged in on me the way you did her and Peter."

"Thanks a lot!!" Paul snapped.

"Every person has needs, Paul...just sayin'." Gene pointed out.

Paul sighed. "What am I gonna do, Gene?"

"Maybe once she calms down you should talk to her." Gene suggested. "Find out just what it is that's going on."

"I know what's going on..." Paul said, shaking his head. "She's my little girl...my angel...my baby...and she doesn't belong with Peter...he'll hurt her..."

"So what are you gonna do?" Gene asked.

Paul's jaw slid to the side. "I don't know...but one thing I know for sure...I'm not gonna allow it..." He looked at Gene, his gaze holding a combination of love for his daughter and vengeance.

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Peter suddenly awoke from the fitful sleep he had dozed off in. Santana's scent still lingered in his sheets, driving him wild as his mind went back to a few nights prior when she had been there in his bed with him.

He could still feel the heat of her body against him, the softness of her skin beneath his touch, the way her body responded to his, the feel of her mouth on him, her tongue wrapping around him as she moved up and down on him...

Peter lost himself in his thoughts, touching himself; only making him long for Santana even more.

"Santana..." He moaned in the darkness of his bedroom. "Mmmm..." He whimpered and groaned, lovesick as his body began to scream for the girl he loved and wanted.

Clapping his hands twice, the lights of his bedroom then blinked on in response. He then swung himself out and over the edge of his bed, his erection throbbing painfully.

"To hell with this..." Peter said to himself as he got up; still dressed in the clothes he had on when he stormed out of Paul's house, he then pulled his boots on and grabbed his keys as he left.

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Santana had cried herself to sleep; holding Peter's black leather vest that he had left from earlier before Paul's return home, she breathed in his scent as she restlessly slept.

Soft lips then brushed across hers as she felt a familiar warmth in her ear.

"Cat?" She whispered as she quickly sat up.

"I'm here, kitten." Peter whispered, pulling her into his arms as his lips found hers again in the dark; pulling back only slightly.

"I was hoping you would come back." She whispered, smiling against his lips as she ran her hands over his shoulders.

"Nothing will ever keep me from you, baby." Peter promised, resting his forehead against hers. "I couldn't sleep...I had to see you...I missed you..." He whispered, kissing along the line of her jaw and to her ear.