Hello fellow FanFictioners! So good to be back. This here is a continuation of my Brittana chain of stories I got going on.

Alright, let me give you the rundown of what's happening: This is a sequel to "Santana's Super Secret Surprise". If you are just joining us now you might want to read that story so you understand any and all references I might make throughout this one. You probably won't necessarily need to, but it'll definitely help.

Anyway a few side notes. Artie is crazy out of character. I do have the intent to make him the bad guy. Why, you might ask? I'll tell you. I hate that Brittany is with him (( hopefully March 8th will fix that! )) and I'm disgusted by how Naya is completely infatuated with Kevin. That is not okay in my book. Not okay at all. So I am taking my anger out here. Also, in my other story apparently I was able to get the characters of Brittany and Santana correct, but I'm terrified I blew that here. So I apologize for that.

The title is inspired by one of my favorite songs: "Drop the Girl" by Hit the Lights. It's a great song. You should listen to it so you understand why I chose it as a title. Just make sure you switch everything to boy, he, him, or whatever so it applies to Artie. Also, Heather Morris is totally in the music video! Woot woot! Coincidence? I think not! She totally knew I love that song so she was like "I NEED to be in that video so I can make this girl happy!"

P.S. I totally stole the jello mold event from my own life. Please don't tell anyone! I don't want to get in trouble for plagerising or anything.

Well, it was official: she was dying. Santana Lopez was in fact having a heart attack. Not like it was a big deal or anything. She had planned out her entire funeral at the age of twelve when she was pretty sure her grandmother's jello mold was going to kill her. Her parents knew exactly what flowers to place around her coffin and what jewelry she was to wear if ever the misfortunate event of her early demise were to occur. So if she wanted to collapse right then and there in the middle of the hallway and die she totally could. But, then again… she did want to set Artie's wheelchair on fire – preferably with him in it – before she croaked. Maybe she should try and hold out a little while longer. Just in case.

Santana fell heavily against the closest group of lockers in an effort to try and still her rapidly beating heart. Bending over so her upper body was supported by her knees, the Latina breathed in deeply through her nose, closing her eyes as she let the next batch of dizziness subside. Something was going on inside of her body and she didn't know what it was. All she knew was that this sick feeling had greeted her when she awoke in the morning, and that it had progressively been getting worse as the day went on. The Latina hadn't been able to listen to a single word that was said in any of her classes, because she was too busy focusing on not sharing her breakfast with the rest of the students. Although, she did have this strange feeling she volunteered to head the "Larpers Against Cruel and Unusual Punishment" Committee.

For most of the day Santana had been able to keep her extreme discomfort relatively under control. She only threw up two times and she didn't even ask to go see the nurse – what a trooper. But now with school coming to an end, and Glee rehearsal about to begin, her body was attacking itself with a vengeance.

As the brunette felt another wave of nausea slap her in the face, accompanied by an annoyingly cold sweat, Santana knew there was only one logical explanation for what was happening: She was having a heart attack. Her dad was a doctor for Christ sake; she read the pamphlets in his office! She remembered the diagrams! Too bad she couldn't remember what one was supposed to do in case one found themselves in this kind of situation. So she continued with her attempts to remain alive – breathing in through the nose, out through the mouth.

Out of nowhere Santana could hear a light tapping of footsteps grow increasingly louder as someone approached her trembling form.

"Hey. You okay?" a familiar voice called out.

"Why are you talking to me?" the keeled over girl snapped as the person stopped directly in front of her.

"Kay, fine. Just trying to be nice."

"Wait! Mercedes!" the brunette gave in, calling her back after she discovered the girl was continuing on with her walk. Opening her eyes but keeping her gaze fixated on the only non-moving object, the floor, Santana took in another ragged breath, "I'm having a heart attack."

"You said that last week when Figgins informed everyone that our shorts had to be as long as our fingers."

"I'm serious this time! What are you supposed to do when you can't feel your legs?"

"How should I know? ! Your dad's the doctor."

"God you're useless."

"See?" Mercedes raised her finger eliciting her best diva attitude. "This is why I never want to help you," she scoffed as she turned to leave again.

Santana scrunched up her face, pinching the bridge of her nose tightly between her fingers. With a groan she pushed herself away from the lockers so her body was squared with the only help she had received that day.

"Stop! … Look. I'm sorry, okay? I am freaking out here. Just… please don't go. I need someone to call my time of death for me."

The Latina's voice sounded so defenseless, almost frightened, it stopped the ex cheerleader dead in her tracks. "What are you freaking out about?"

"Do you always have to be this nosy?" Santana immediately shot back angrily. When she saw Mercedes raise her eyebrows in warning, the brunette slowly expelled the breath she was holding through her nose in an effort to calm herself before she started speaking again. "I…they give me butterflies," she said quietly, suddenly finding her shoes to be very interesting at the moment.

As the tip of Santana's foot kicked the floor beneath her, she started to think that maybe she wasn't dying after all. Maybe all this was turning out to be just a bunch of nerves. But what was she nervous about? She was Santana Lopez! Santana Lopez doesn't get nervous. However, her incessant amount of shaking seemed to be telling her otherwise.

The diva snorted when she fully processed the smaller girl's remark, trying her best to conceal her laughter. "Butterflies huh? Feelings. Wow… did hell freeze over already?"

Santana's head snapped up to look at the girl in front of her. "Watch it Wheezy," her brown eyes narrowing defensively.

"Chill girl. I'm just playin'. Come on. Glee will make you feel better. You can sing about your new found feelings." Much to Santana's extreme discomfort and absolute horror, the diva wrapped her arm around the cheerleader and began leading them towards the choir room.

As the two girls ambled through the halls in pursuit of the rehearsal room, the Latina could feel the butterflies trying very hard to create a tornado inside her stomach. If it wasn't for the strong arm gripping her own body, Santana would have made a mad dash for the nearest bomb shelter, and lock herself inside, the second their destination came into view. Mercedes could feel the smaller girl plant her feet in order to brace herself against the gentle push through the open door.

"What is your problem? It is just Glee rehearsal."

"She has it. She actually has it with her! Son of a bitch, it's sitting on her lap!" The Latina's normally tan skin morphed into a deep red that would bring a tomato to tears, and her face took on the look of pure mortification, as she ducked behind a neighboring trash can.

Mercedes remained rooted to her spot in the middle of the doorway for she was completely taken aback by the sad sight before her.

"The hell…?" The diva regained her composure and marched over to the cowering girl, forcefully pulling her to her feet. "Okay, seriously? What is going on?"

Santana began pacing back and forth feverishly, wringing her hands together in the process. "I can't believe she brought it to school!"

"Brought what to school? WHO are you talking about?"

The Latina didn't stop her pacing as she waved her arm in the direction of the Glee Club. Taking the gesture as an invitation to look, Mercedes leaned back and peered into the room. Nothing stood out to be blaringly different than what normally took place when everyone got together. Puck was slouched over in his chair tying his own shoelaces together. Rachel was warming up her vocal chords with a very displeased looking Brad. Tina and Mike were playing with one of those paper fortune teller things that no one seemed to know the name of. And Sam was flipping his hair seductively for an oddly amused Quinn. Mercedes wasn't sure what she was supposed to be looking at.

"What am I –"

"FRONT ROW!" the brunette proclaimed in a huff.

The diva furrowed her eyebrows as she glanced back into the room, trying to figure out what was so wrong. There was still nothing unusual about what she was being told to observe. Sitting in the front row, in their usual corner by the band, Brittany and Artie were deep in conversation. Well… Artie was deep in conversation. Brittany was too busy petting a purple thing resting on her lap to be paying any attention to what the boy next to her was saying. The blonde was making zero attempts at hiding her utter lack of interest in whatever Artie was saying, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Who? Brittany?" Mercedes turned giving the pacing girl a look of pure confusion. "I don't get it. So she has a stuffed animal. What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is that I gave her that stuffed animal yesterday! And she brought it with her today!"

"And…?" Mercedes circled her hands around each other trying to pull more information out of the flustered girl.

Santana ceased her motion so she was facing Mercedes. Her patience was wearing dangerously thin. "Okay. Focus. Yesterday Brittany and I hung out together for the entire day and I surprised her with a stuffed heffalump. I thought she was just going to place it at home with all her other stuffed animals and just leave it there. But here she is bringing it around in public! Is that supposed to mean something?"

"Yeah. It means she liked the present you gave her."

"But what if she doesn't? What if she only brought it to school so she could give it back to me? What if she hates it? Oh God! What if she hates me? ! What if she doesn't want to see me ever again? !"

As Mercedes stood watching the rambling cheerleader in front of her, something clicked. First butterflies, now major post gift jitters? Oh yeah. Something clicked inside Mercedes' brain alright. Dropping her chin and raising her eyebrow in accusation Mercedes whispered, "Wait… Do you like… have feelings for Brittany?"

"NO!" Santana cried out a little too quickly, and a little too high pitch.

A knowing smile instantly crossed the divas face as she declared, "You do! You LOVE Brittany!"

"Will you keep your God damn voice down? !" The brunette hissed as she yanked the chuckling girl by the collar away from the door and towards her so that their noses were virtually touching. "Do you want the whole world to hear you? !"

"I knew it! You loooooove her!" Mercedes taunted.

"Stop! I do not love Brittany, okay?"

"Does Brittany know that you love her?"

"I DON'T…" Santana paused to take a controlling breath making sure she didn't start screaming at the self proclaimed diva. When she realized there was no escape, and that she had to come up with an answer, Santana cringed, "I don't know. Maybe. I doubt it. But I mean… after I gave her the toy and she kissed me it definitely – "

"Whoa hold up! She KISSED you? !" Mercedes shouted, completely thrown off guard.

"OH MY GOD!" the brunette threw her arms up in exasperation. "What did we just discuss? ! You know what? Forget it. I'm done talking about this with you. And I'm not going in there. Thanks for your help," the sarcasm in her voice spitting through her teeth. She turned on her heel to storm off, but was quickly stopped by a hand grabbing her wrist.

"No you don't. Where do you think you're going? Your girlfriend is that way!" Mercedes proclaimed throwing her thumb over her shoulder.

"She's not my girlfriend!"

"Then go make her your girlfriend. Look. I love Artie. He is one of my best friends. But I will be the first person to tell you that that boy is not boyfriend material. Kid is selfish, end of story. Brittany deserves way better. And for some insane reason, one that makes me question my morals, I think you can give that to her. So here's what you're gonna do. You're gonna grow a pair and you're going to march in there and you're gonna go get your girl." Mercedes stepped around behind the smaller girl so she was pushing the brunette forward.

"But –" Santana tried to protest.

"No buts. Go you skinny bitch!"

With one last forceful shove from Mercedes, Santana found herself stumbling into the choir room. Straightening herself up and smoothing out her shirt, the Latina widened her brown eyes furiously at the girl casually taking a seat next to Tina. Hoping no one had paid any attention to her graceful entrance, Santana moved to go sit in her normal spot towards the back. But before she could get anywhere she was halted by an angry and deliberate clearing of the throat. When she turned towards the noise, Santana saw Mercedes pursing her lips together and jerking her head in the direction of the front row. The two girls had a silent war take place between them as their eyes fought for dominance. Knowing she was defeated, the cheerleader groaned and reluctantly went to go sit next to the Dutch girl – but not before presenting Mercedes with the double bird.

The brunette timidly made her way over to the couple sitting in the front, biting her thumb nail in a result of her anxiety. When the dancer spotted her best friend coming over, her blue eyes shone as she broke into an infectious smile she saved only for the Latina.

"Santana!" Brittany squealed cutting Artie off mid-sentence.

"Hey Britt!" Santana beamed fondly down at the sitting girl. When she looked over at the boy next to her friend her face became cold. "Artie."

"Santana."

Not noticing the tension that had wafted into the room, the blonde tugged on Santana's arm so the smaller girl was sitting in the chair next to her. Forgetting he was even present, Brittany turned sideways so her back was facing her boyfriend.

"Hey, San. Guess what I named him!" Brittany instructed holding up the heffalump.

"Uuummm… Jeffery."

"Nope. Otis Spunkmeyer. But you can call him Spunky."

"Well then. It is very nice to meet you Spunky," Santana told the stuffed animal while shaking its hoof.

"Nice to meet you too," Brittany responded dropping her voice to sound like a man and hiding her face behind the animal.

The two girls erupted into a fit of giggles and didn't stop until they heard an annoyed cough coming from the other side of Brittany. The Dutch girl turned around slowly so she could face the disruption. She was met with a pair of eyes, eyes she never bothered to learn the color of, that were staring at her with what she figured was a shot at amused curiosity. However, it only reminded her of that evil doll movie she watched with her sister even though Santana told her she was never allowed to see it. Artie was giving Brittany the same look the doll gave you right before he killed you. Suddenly not wanting to be anywhere near her boyfriend, Brittany shifted backwards in her seat so that she was practically on top of the smaller girl.

"Yes Artie?" the blonde asked cautiously.

"I was just wondering… where did you get Spunky?"

"My knight in shining armor gave it to me."

Artie let out a chuckle, appearing as if he entered the end of a joke and didn't understand it but pretended to anyway. "I didn't give you that."

Brittany simply shrugged. "I know."

At that point Mr. Schuester walked into the room leaving no more room for conversation. Artie was left staring at his girlfriend bewildered, wondering what just happened. All he could do now was wait until rehearsal was over so he could question the blonde further.

Ignoring the gaping boy next to her, Brittany turned so she was facing the front of the room. After a few seconds of Mr. Schue's endless droning, Brittany plopped her head down onto the brunette's shoulder giving in to her sleepiness. The moment their bodies touched, Santana could feel her heart speed up so fast it was practically jumping out of her chest. Nope. No yeah. It was definitely official. Santana Lopez was without a doubt dying of a heart attack. It wasn't like it was a big deal or anything. Brittany had not only dissed Artie, but she had chosen to fall asleep against her tan shoulder. If Santana died this instant, she was pretty sure she would die a happy camper. She didn't care.

Bring it on cardiac arrest. Bring it on.

So what do you think? Yes? No? Yay? Nay? Continue? Stop the torture now?

I just realized Santana is CRAAAAZZZYYYY out of character here. She would never divulge her feelings to Mercedes like that. I would like to start my apology off by saying that I appreciate all of you as readers and I hope one day we can get passed this and be friends.

Also I was wondering how else to describe Mercedes and Artie. I don't want to be racist or rude or anything, but I don't want to say their names over and over again. Any suggestions?