A/N: Some drabbles. Not entirely sure where they came from; I just felt like writing them. C:

Whenever a new development occurred with Kurt or Brittany – namely Brittany, since Kurt now attends Dalton – they would meet up and discuss it. It wasn't so much as gossip as it was… sorting things out verbally. Solace found in telling secrets in confidence. Confidence in one another born from being so devastatingly similar.

They found each other one day and before they knew it, they were spilling secrets. Reluctantly, angrily, because they are both that way – defensive and fearful – but it helped. It worked. And in being so fragile for a moment, they gained an instant connection, something friendly and casual and tangible, something they could each grab onto in a sea of people who wouldn't understand.

Dave usually went first because he never had much to say. He barely saw Kurt any longer; only in town sometimes, or whenever he and Finn happened to have an after-school activity together and one of them needed a ride that day. He saw Kurt, but never wanted to talk to him much. He was too ashamed with himself even to apologize.

Santana usually wound up crying. She's a strong girl, a feisty one to be sure, but the same could be said for Dave in the male sense, and yet both of them are so tender underneath their hides. Whenever Santana confessed to something, she hated herself for being weak, and disliked the feeling of opening up, and because of that, Dave would be there to comfort her. He'd hold her and let her cry on him, because Brittany was still with Artie – might always be with Artie, since they're sweet together and Artie actually treats Brittany right (as opposed to how he treated Tina), and Artie plays along with Brittany's ditziness. They work well together, and it breaks Santana's heart.

"I don't want to talk to her much now," Santana sobs one afternoon at the park near the school. They're half-hidden by some trees and drowned out by screaming, laughing children, so it's safe to converse here. The Latino girl rubs her hands together, wringing them up and dabbing her eyes constantly, until her face is pink and her fingers are raw. Dave calms her hands by stilling them in his.

"I don't talk to Kurt at all, so I guess we're even," he responds meekly. "But you shouldn't beat yourself up about it, Santana. You're a bigger person than I am about this; at least Brittany is your friend, and you're nice to her when you aren't teasing her. I harassed Kurt because I knew it was the only way to get an excuse to be around him without it being suspicious. How screwed up am I?" he reminds sadly.

Santana turns and puts her arm around him. It's easy between them, after they discovered how similar they are. They've been friends ever since that weird, fateful day they told their secrets. Lesbian, gay; labels they cast aside, don't want, don't need, because high school in Lima is brutal like it is most everywhere else. Their peers would tear them apart.

"We'll survive, Dave. We're strong people. At least, I know I am. I can take this. I don't need her," she says, but her voice breaks on the word 'don't.' She bites her lip. "Besides, I've been thinking. Maybe we could pretend to date? Just to ward off suspicion, since I know some people think there's something going on with the way I've been avoiding Brittany some of the time."

"Huh. Finn actually suggested that we date, since he doesn't know that's I'm… y'know," he adds, and he shrugs his shoulders. He's been trying to get on better terms with Finn again, rekindle that bromance from the championship game week, and get on Finn's good side in order to get close enough to Kurt to at least muster up the audacity to apologize. But it'd be an awfully bold move to do that, and Dave isn't very bold. He's nowhere near as bold or brave as Santana, who confessed her love to the object of her affection. The fact that even she was as such must be a girl thing, and a friend thing. Dave wishes he had that sort of thing with Kurt, but he doesn't.

"Well, then it's settled: I can stick it to Brittany that I don't need her by acting as your date, and you can keep up the cover that you're straight while you find a way to get Kurt to talk to you. It works," she says, but she doesn't sound half as convinced as her words do. She sighs. "But it could be a disaster. Fake relationships never quite work out."

"That's not true; we could just… be really good friends. Openly. And people can make their own assumptions, and those assumptions can aid us, I guess," Dave mumbles gruffly, trying to think.

Santana nods her head slowly and tosses her hair over her shoulder. She draws her needs up to her chest, hugging her legs. "I don't know. I feel lost, and I hate it. Why can't things be simple?"

"Uh, because life sucks? I dunno. I just know that if things were simple, then the world would be led by a bunch of Finns, and as much as I like the guy, that would not be a good thing."

Santana laughs a little. "No, it wouldn't. The kid's definitely not the brightest pair of sunglasses in the shop, if you know what I mean."

"Still. We can get through this, Lopez. We're juniors. We only have one more year to suffer, and then the world is our oyster or whatever. We can get the Hell outta Dodge – and by that, I mean Lima – and we can be free to be who we really are in places where no one gives a rat's ass."

"I hope you're right," Santana murmurs, sighing again. "Because I want that. I want to leave, and bring Brittany with me, and be free to love her where there won't be judgmental stares everywhere I go. I could totally glare better than them right back, but still. I hate being labeled instantly. I hate stereotypes. I dish them out to hide how much I hate them."

Just like how Dave acted homophobic to hide how homosexual he actually is. It's a vicious cycle, and a dangerous mask to wear. It borderlines hypocrisy.

But at least they have each other to confide in about these matters. If they hadn't found each other as soon as they had, they might've gone either insane or became severely depressed. And neither of these things are pleasant by any means.