"What I can't figure out is what the fuck you *thought* would happen."

The bleachers are empty, save a wafting scent of smoke from the recently departed 'Skanks' below, and one single person huddled on the top, arms wrapped around her torso and her red and white Cheerios jacket zipped up to the neck. Santana lifts her head up, slowly, and stares down at the angry sounding person beneath her.

"What?"

Tina rolls her eyes, marching up the steps, her boots clattering on the rickety wood, the purple collar of her buttoned dress peeking out from under her black Fall jacket. There's still a flush on her cheeks from their recent performance, and as soon as the Glee Club had finished, Tina had kissed Mike's cheek (he'd been too busy jumping around with Blaine to do anything more than absently kiss her back) and had left the auditorium to begin her search. The bleachers had been the second place on her list.

Reaching Santana, Tina crosses her arms over her chest and frowns. "You set fire to school property Santana. You went back to putting Coach Sylvester above all of your friends. I mean, seriously, you could have got suspended or expelled."

"So?"

"So? Did I miss something? Did we somehow go back in time two years and I'm a Freshman with a stutter and you're a total bitch who doesn't give a shit about any of us?"

A snort of laughter breaks through the air then, and Santana shakes her head, her perfectly curled Cheerio ponytail swishing against her back. "I don't even know. Maybe."

The punch is unexpected, and Santana grabs her shoulder, cursing aloud. "What the fuck was that for?"

Tina's fists are clenched, and she holds them taut at her sides. A gentle wind blows and tosses her blonde-streaked pigtails. "Oh, so you can still feel something, huh? Because with the way you've been acting, I wasn't sure."

Santana can feel the anger beginning to bubble and burn deep in her gut, and she clenches her jaw, hard, her body tense and coiled. "You have *no* idea how much I feel okay? None. How much I'm having to give up so I can be popular. So people respect me."

"You think burning things will make people respect you?" Tina's voice is aghast, and unbelieving, and completely unimpressed. "God, Santana, are you really that stupid?"

"Fuck you."

"Fuck *you*. You think people don't know about you and Brittany? That we were walking around with our eyes closed for two years? I get that it's hard for you. I get that you're hurting and you don't feel ready for everyone to know about your personal life. What I don't get is why you think that gives you a free pass to be a complete idiot. You want to wreck your own life? Fine. I mean, I'll hate watching it, and I'll cry, but fine. But *don't* think for a moment that any of this was someone else's fault, okay? Because you have ten people in that room who have always gone to bat for you, and then you turned around and stabbed them in the back. Including me. And there are only so many times we can turn the other cheek."

Tina's breath is coming in pants, and it's honestly the longest thing Santana thinks she's ever heard her say in one go. Her shoulders bob up and down and her cheeks are tinged pink.

Santana is still, frozen and silent, and the two of them just stare at each other for a while. Clouds gather overhead, and a light drizzle begins to fall, misting on their hair and eyelashes. Finally, Santana licks her lips, slowly, and takes a deep breath. "I don't know what to do," she admits, wrapping her arms back around her body, like a shield. "I know it was stupid. I just…I'm not talented, like Rachel, and I'm not smart like you. I *need* the Cheerios, and I need to be on top. Coach Sylvester…she's crazy, but if you're loyal, she'll get you there."

With a sigh, Tina finally sits down next to her, their shoulders pressed together. "And if you're not? If she decides, oh I don't know, to suddenly take poorly against something you say, or do, then what? I mean, I'm just saying, this woman isn't exactly know for her consistency. Then what happens to you?"

Santana shrugs. "I don't know."

Tina looks straight ahead, at the football pitch, at the small stream of people still trickling out of the school, pulling jackets over their shoulders and frowning up at the inclimate sky. She cocks her head. "From what I can see, you need to make a decision. You can *absolutely* be on the Cheerios and in Glee, you can. You've done it before, Brit's done it, Quinn did it. Even Kurt and Mercedes did. But you…you can't keep doing it like this. You're going to drive people away, and you're going to hate yourself for it." Leaning in, she bumps their shoulders together. "And you're better than that, San, I know you are. You've got to find another way."

Leaning forward - elbows braced on knees - Santana nods her head. "I'll apologise to Mr Schue."

"Maybe offer to organise his vest collection or something," Tina grins, and it makes Santana crack a small smile.

"You should be more pissed at me," she murmurs, and for a moment her eyes cloud again, but Tina just squeezes her bare knee.

"I'm pissed as hell at you San," she admits, leaning back on the bench seat and propping her feet on the wood in front of her. "But I also know I can't force you into making a decision. All I can say is…do something that could put people in danger, get you suspended or expelled, or damage a perfectly good musical instrument again, and I will kick your ass *so* hard…"

Santana grins then, for real, and begins to laugh. "You'll go Lima Heights?"

Standing up, Tina grabs Santana's hand and pulls her up, looping their arms together. "Mike's been teaching me," she grins as they climb down the bleachers. "Among other things."

They hit the field, soft, damp grass underfoot, before Santana turns around. "I owe you one."

But Tina simply shrugs. "Just don't do it again. Oh!" she quirks a smile, and something twinkles in her dark eyes. "And if you could get the Skanks out from under the bleachers say, 10 o'clock tomorrow morning, then we'd be totally even."

"10 o'clock?"

"Now Blaine's officially transferred, Mike and I have a date with a Warbler tie…"

Santana laughs, hard. "And *I'm* the one who almost got suspended?"