Prompt: Kurt and Santana, either a tag to the latest episode [3x06](for the angst or hurt/comfort), or something sweet and friendship-flavored
Characters/Pairings: Kurt, Santana (with references to Kurt/Blaine and Santana/Brittany)
A/N: It turns out that Glee is a scary fandom to write in. Go figure.

I'm Glad We Had This Talk

Santana didn't bother to glance over when she heard the gym door open with a squeal behind her, she just continued running the newest Cheerios routine through to the finish before grabbing her water bottle and turning to face Kurt Hummel.

"Still living up to Coach Sylvester's unhinged standards, I see."

"I don't know why I'm bothering. It's not like I'm going to last for much longer on the Cheerios anyways."

"Because you're a masochist. Don't deny it, you know it's true."

Santana scowled at him and brandished the water threateningly.

"Don't even think about it, you know better than to mess with the hair."

Santana flicked the cap at him halfheartedly but the few droplets that sprayed out fell purposefully short.

"Coach Sylvester isn't going to kick you off the team because of the ad. She feels responsible for the situation, she won't just abandon you now." Kurt rolled his eyes. "All-out war has been declared and you know Coach won't give in until the entire town is in flames."

Santana snorted. "Yeah? And what about the other parents? The other teams? What happens when they bitch and moan about appearances and examples?" Her voice was bitter and torn but her eyes remained cold. "My parents?"

"Have you-"

"I don't want to talk about it."

Nearly a minute passed without either saying a word, until, in the softest voice he'd ever heard from her, Santana said, "It sucks."

Kurt breathed out slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, it does."

"Everything sucks."

"Not everything, I don't think." Kurt shrugged and nodded his head over at the bleachers on the far side of the gym. "For either of us."

Two people sat close together on the bench seats, talking animatedly, though not loudly enough to be heard clearly at this distance.

Blaine, with the expression of perpetual bewilderment that graced his face whenever he spent more than a few minutes in Brittany's presence, was listening intently to whatever Brittany was saying and occasionally ducking one of her flying hands when she flailed them around to make a point.

Brittany was smiling widely and bobbing her head to a beat that sent her ponytail bouncing as she recounted some story, most likely featuring her cat, to her semi-captive audience.

It took several moments, but Santana did eventually tear her gaze away from them, and graced Kurt with a familiar scowl. "You are such a whipped little puppy. Sucker."

Kurt only smiled. "Perhaps. But you know what doesn't suck, Satan? I'm not alone. And neither are you."

Santana looked off to the side again, seeing gleaming blond hair and the bright flash of teeth as Brittany met her gaze and waived excitedly as though they hadn't spent half the day together already.

"Yeah well, a bunch of Lima Loser glee club wannabes. Us against the world. What else is new?"

"And somehow we're still around. Says something, don't you think?"

Santana rolled her eyes at him. "Fuck off, Hummel, I've got work to do."

"Call me."

"In your dreams."

"Oh no, definitely not there."

"Ass."

If the hand she laid on his shoulder was more of a pat then a shove, neither would dare admit to it.