You wake up like you usually do: to Brittany's blaring alarm. You really want to just throw the damn thing against the wall and hold onto Brittany until she gives up getting you off and skips work. But before you can grab onto Brittany, she's out of the bed and in the shower.

You angrily trudge to the kitchen and angrily make the coffee and angrily toast a bagel. You've never been a morning person. Less sleep makes you less of a morning person. After getting Brittany's dance clothes out of the drying and putting them in her bag, you pour yourself some coffee and plop down on the couch to turn on the TV. The news is on an you don't bother changing it. There's an aerial view of a six car pile up on the highway with the drivers standing around yelling and cursing each other and it makes you feel marginally better that someone is having a worse morning than you.

After a few more stories you feel like you're not that bad off. You're better off than those poor people that were stuck in the elevator up to the Space Needle and way better off than the guy who took a firecracker to his junk during a celebration. Yup, the news makes you feel better about yourself. You start to worry if there's something wrong with that when Brittany walks into the living room.

She takes her place in your lap and leans back into you. She smells fresh and clean and you don't resist dropping a kiss just below her ear, inhaling her smell as you do so.

"Good morning," she smiles tentatively, waiting to see how you're feeling this morning.

You smile back and kiss her lips, allowing her to guide the kiss. When she pulls away she giggles and leans back into you. You both turn to the TV and you drink your coffee watching the tragedy that is life on this planet unfold.

"Look at you two all grown up, drinking coffee and watching the news," Quinn's voice penetrates your thoughts. You completely forgot that she was here.

Brittany giggles again and glances inside the empty coffee cup you've been trying to drink the very last drop out of for ten minutes. She lifts the cup out of your hands and gives you a kiss before following Quinn to the kitchen.

The apartment is tiny and you can hear them talking above the TV. Quinn asks Brittany to come out with you guys tonight and Brittany tells her that she'll try, but she uses her I'm-just-saying-this-to-placate-you voice. There's no way Brittany is going to ditch her work to go out. And just like that your mood sours.

Brittany hands you your coffee with a nervous smile because she knows you heard her. You just take the coffee and turn back to the TV. You can relate to the wildfire that's engulfing forest upon forest on the screen. A ringing sounds through your apartment and it's not yours or Brittany's. You call to Quinn that her phone is ringing.

Your girlfriend shifts her weight from one foot to the other before picking up her dance bag. She sits down next to you and takes your arm, holding your bicep with both of her hands. She kisses your cheek and tells you that she loves you.

You melt at that and close your eyes. You can feel her breathing on your cheek and how her fingers softly, but firmly grip your arm. You just want everything else to fade away. You want to disappear into a nothingness with Brittany as your only companion. You tilt your head toward her and her lips catch your forehead. "Call me if you need anything," she whispers.

You keep your eyes closed and grit your teeth. You need her. You need her here with you. There's an ache nibbling at your insides, slowly eroding your resolve until it starts crumbling under it's own weight. You take a deep breath and nod, acknowledging her.

With one last kiss to your cheek, Brittany disappears. You drop your head into your hands and take a few second to place band-aids over your crumbling resolve before getting up to gather your things for school.

Quinn steps out of her room and asks you, "Are you still coming out tonight?"

You nod firmly, "Yes. I need a drink…or ten." You need to let loose and have some fun. That's become a foreign concept to you lately. You tell Quinn that you're leaving for class and you'll be back at three. She waves at you, still on the phone with who you assume is Rachel.

You walk the few blocks to your school and schlep up three flights of stairs to get to your first class. You sit in the middle of the room and get called on twice (and answer correctly twice cause you're a med school rock star). Then you sit back and wonder how the hell half of these people get into med school. Especially Columbia. You close your eyes and count to seven. That's pretty much as far as you get before you decide you're surrounded by idiots who are going to kill people. You hand shoots up interrupting the guy trying to explain something behind you.

The professor looks surprised, but nods to you, giving you the floor. You're not a teacher's pet or a know-it-all, but damn you cannot listen to that endless nonsensical babble for much longer.

You go through the rest of your class, unfortunately the same way. You sit in the library during your lunch break studying like your scholarship depends on it. Because it does. When your last class is done, you walk home and continue studying.

You're so lost in your surgical suture techniques manual that you almost don't hear the door open. Your eyes flicker to the clock and see that it's almost three thirty. Maybe Brittany took the evening off finally. You turn to the door from the couch and when Quinn walks through the door, your heart falls. You force a smile, "Hey Q."

She walks over to the couch. Her face is sympathetic and you know that she knows you thought for a brief moment she was Brittany. You feel bad for that.

When she drops her purse on the table and sits down next to you she asks, "How was class?"

"Same ole, same ole," you draw your knees to your chest in what has become your favorite corner of the couch. You reenact the majority of your day for her in a few words, "Oh look a blood clot, class what do we do? Wrong, here's what you do." You close your book and toss it onto the coffee table, "I should have gone to real estate school."

She laughs, "I should have gone to med school."

Not going to med school right now sounds heavenly. You could go to Brittany's practices with her and sit in the theatre reading novels and watching her dance all day. Then you could come home and make her dinner and no be exhausted all the time. "By all means," you gesture to your stacks and stacks of medical books around the room, "My schedule is in my phone. I just want to sleep."

Quinn rubs your shin through the material of your jeans, adding, "Take a nap."

"I need to study if we're going out," you tell her. Getting behind in your reading is like horrible. You spend way more time reading at night and get less sleep.

"Rachel said we're going to a karaoke nigh uptown," Quinn leans back on her side of the couch.

You chuckle to yourself. "I'm not surprised." It is Berry after all. You lull your head back, "It's cool though. I probably need to let loose."

Quinn agrees with you. Your phone conversations that you've had with her are telling you that you both do.

You pick up your book and start studying again, giving Quinn the remote to the TV. You've become good at blocking out everything except the words on the page so when she tells you she's going for a walk you almost don't hear her. You're a little weary about letting her go alone, but she tells you that she'll be fine. You're still iffy so you tell her to call you if she needs anything.

You lose track of all time when you start studying until Quinn comes home and tells you to get ready. It doesn't take you long because you're pretty damn hot all the time. When Quinn steps out of her room you have to admit, she does too. "I'm impressed," you slip on your second heel and stand up straight, "Where are we meeting her highness?"

Quinn looks giddy and you can't help, but wonder why. Karaoke night? Not the most exciting thing ever. However she does live in Lima so this is probably like Disneyworld for her. "We're going to meet her at the club. Her assistant called me an hour ago."

"For real?" you run your hands over the dress that hugs your entire body, "That's so weird. I can't help, but picturing her in animal sweaters and argyle skirts." And if she's wearing something like that out tonight you're taking lots of pictures.

You pick up your purse and your phone off of the coffee table. You haven't gotten a text or call from Brittany all day. A sigh escapes your lips when you slip your phone into your purse. When you look up you see Quinn with her sympathetic face on again. So you force a smile and ask, "Ready?"

When you stalk into the club, you're pissed. The damn taxi driver took the longest way possible to get to the damn club. He wasn't lost. He was racking up the miles to charge you. Ass.

Once inside you feel a little better. Everyone is having a good time. You lead Quinn to the back room where you can hear someone butchering "Crazy on You." There's more people here than you expected.

You spot Rachel first. You're struck by how different she looks. So poised and elegant sitting in the VIP section, up some stairs and roped off from the rest of the club. "Hey Q," you point her out. When you see Quinn spot Rachel you, lead the way over to the two VIP bouncers. They both glare hard at you and Quinn, but luckily before you tell them to call the cops because someone stole their necks, Rachel bounds down the stairs and throws her arms around Quinn's waist like they haven't seen each other in years. "You made it!"

She pulls away from Quinn and smiles at you, giving you a brief hug, "It's good to see you Santana."

"Yeah you too," you add pulling away, "You look nice."

She thanks you and returns the compliment before grabbing Quinn's hand and your hand, pulling you both up the stairs. There are two guys sitting on one of the couches, smiling at you and Quinn. Rachel drops your hand to introduce the guys, "These are some of my cast mates."

The one with darker hair zeroes in on you. He politely extends his hand to you, "I'm Andrew."

"Santana," you answer, shaking his hand.

He grins. "I don't like you already. You're far too pretty. People aren't going to notice how pretty I am."

The joke is corny, but you laugh anyway. Also, you really believe that he thinks he is really pretty.

"What would you like to drink?" he asks, as the VIP waitress walks up.

"Shots," you tell him and the waitress.

Andrew turns to her, "Five please." He looks to you, "Vodka okay with you?"

You nod and just like that the VIP waitress is gone. She returns quicker than you've ever see a cocktail waitress move. After the first round of shots, you all order different drinks. Andrew orders a scotch and you get a double vodka RedBull. You talk with Andrew while you drink. He's asking about med school and you ask him how the show is going. It's light chatter and means nothing. You're just here to drink.

So you order another and glance over at Quinn. Rachel's sitting in her lap and they both look pretty tipsy. You shake your head. They're so lightweights.

Before you're done with your second drink, you look down and find Quinn on the stage, microphone in hand. You let out a smile. She needs this. She needs to sing again. When Quinn floors the crowd with her first line, your jaw drops. You didn't know that she had that in her.

When tears start falling down her cheeks you swallow. You can feel the tingle of tears build up in your eyes, but you push them back. The song ends and she darts off the stage toward the bathroom. You set your drink down and run after her. When you pass Rachel, you see that she's bawling.

You fight the crowd and finally get to the bathroom where you find Quinn standing over a sink, fixing her make up. You lean on the sink next to her and ask, "What's up Q?"

She exhales and drags her eyes from the floor up to you, "Just…everything. Singing that song always makes me emotional. I shouldn't have done it when we're all here having a good time."

You trace her face with your eyes. It's laden with sadness and anger. You've seen it before and you don't like it. You pull her into a hug, "It's cool. Rachel and I know you're going through some hard stuff. She's probably on her way in here right now because she started bawling before you did."

"Really?" she breaks the hug.

You nod and wipe away a stray tear on Quinn's face with the back of your fingers, "If you tell anyone I'll deny it, but I got a little misty too."

She smiles and hugs you again. This time you pull away Rachel is standing there. She looks nervous when she says, "That was beautiful Quinn."

"I really didn't mean to make you guys cry," your best friend states.

You turn to the mirror to fix your hair, "I didn't cry." You can practically feel Quinn rolling her eyes behind you.

"C'mon, let's go have fun. I'm only here for another day and I want a night to remember," you hear Quinn say.

"That's my girl," you smile and take her hand, pulling her and Rachel back into the club.

The shots you had Andrew order are waiting for you when you get back so you pick one up and offer a toast, "To James Brown."

"To New York City," Quinn grins.

"To friends," Rachel smiles at Quinn.

The guy you've deemed to be Rachel's boyfriend toasts to Broadway and Andrew just says "Cheers" and throws his shot back.

You hear the beginning beats of one of your favorite songs and smile, "This is my jam!" You grab Quinn's hand to pull her down to the floor to dance with you. But as soon as you get to the crowd you let go and start dancing. You don't care that you're dancing with yourself because in your head Brittany is right here with you, making you look bad and holding you close.

Suddenly, someone is holding you close and for a fleeting moment you think that Brittany came out after all, but you see that it's just Andrew. His hands hold onto your hips and he presses his body to your back. You're just drunk enough not to care. You don't tell him that if you'd met him in California while you were away from Brittany and trying to drink and sex your way into oblivion, it may have worked.

You look at him and you see the look in his eyes. He wants you and you kinda have been leading him on. You look around for Quinn but when you finally do spot her, she's doing solo shots in the VIP lounge. You decide you've lead Andrew on enough. You miss Brittany. You flag the VIP waitress down and order more. It's gonna be a long night.

You and Quinn are leaning on each other as you make your way to the door of the club. That is until you stumble. Quinn starts to tip over because her crutch disappeared. But David takes her arm to keep her from falling.

You're not sure what happened after that but Andrew left your side to break up a fight between David and a very large man.

You look to your side and see Rachel grab Quinn by the waist to keep her upright. You decide that you need to get Quinn out of here so you pull both girls outside and wait until Andrew and a bruised David joins you.

Then when you're going up the stairs to whoever's apartment is closest, you see Quinn elbow David in the ribs. You had to help Rachel get clothes on Quinn before the blonde puked then passed out.
The next thing you know your phone is ringing and it feels like someone did a craniotomy on your and put your phone inside your brain before closing you up. You feel around you and finally find it on the nightstand next to you.

You check the screen and see Brittany's smiling face looking back at you. You press the green button and answer, "Hey baby."

"Hey," she answers and sounds out of breath, "Are you okay? You didn't come home last night."

You automatically feel guilty. You totally forgot to call her before you passed out. "I'm fine. I'm sorry. We were just out really late last night and…"

She cuts you off and asks you if you have Quinn. You answer her, "Yeah Q's here. She looks fine too."

Brittany let's out a relieved sigh. Her voice is quiet, which means that she's mad or sad, or a combination of both. "You didn't call. I was worried." You open your mouth to answer, but a car horn on her end cuts you off. She adds, "I gotta go. I'll see you at home. Love you."

"I'm sorry," you say, guilt ripping through your insides like a razor wired pinball, "I love you too. See you later." You hang up and bury your face in your pillow. And now you feel even more like shit than you did when you woke up.

"Where are we?" Quinn's groggy voice asks next to you.

"Casa de Berry I suppose," you got that from how much like flowers the pillows smell and how pristine the nightstand is kept. You close your eyes again when they start hurting and add, "It's way too damn bright in here."

There's quiet talking going on next to you and you assume that Rachel is now awake on the other side of Quinn. You pick your head up and catch Rachel telling you both that she's going to get coffee and breakfast.

"Thanks," you tell her because Quinn has fallen silent.

Once the door closes Quinn asks, "Did I do anything stupid?"

You grin, "Nah." She has her face buried in her pillow and judging by how much she drank last night, she has a wicked hangover. "Although you were a big baby when I tried to get you to change clothes. You fell on the bed twice because you thought you could do it yourself."

She turns her head toward you and looks you over before asking, "Did you have fun?"

You know she means something else by that, but you can't quite put your finger on what. You just drop your head back on your pillow and nod. Suddenly you remember a not so lucid conversation you had right before passing out. "Andrew asked me out again though."

When you look back at her, she asks, "What'd you tell him?"

You definitely know what that means. She thinks you're going to go out with him again. Your eyes narrow and you clench your jaw. You're seething when you finally ask, "What the fuck do you think I said?" You can tell she's starting to panic because she set you off, but she fucking deserves it if she thinks you would ever, ever cheat on Brittany, "Me and Brit may be having some issues, but I will never hurt her like that."

Quinn sighs her surrender, "I know S. I just wanted to know if you let him down easy or you were a bitch about it."

You fell your anger slip away. You misunderstood what she was getting at. "Oh. I told him that I'm with someone else. He asked if it was anyone as famous as him." You roll your eyes at the memory and confess, "I almost hit him, but I didn't."

She props her head up to have a face to face conversation with you. With a smile she adds, "I'm so proud."

You grin and continue, "I told him that she is a choreographer on Broadway. And she might not be as famous, but she is ten times as hot." You chuckle to yourself. The look on his face was priceless. "Anyway," you continue, "it turns out that they know each other and he told me that Brittany talks about me all the time, bragging on me being a med student and all. Then he asked me if I'd look at the rash on his back."

Quinn rolls onto her back and stares at the ceiling, "You better get used to that Dr. Lopez. Or Dr. Lopez-Pierce or-"

You shut that down fast, "Okay you're starting to sound like my mom." You sit up and cross your legs, "And I'll tell you what I tell her, I'll do what I want to do when I want to do it."

Quinn grins up at you, "Or more accurately, you'll do what Brittany wants you to do when she wants you to do it."

She's right and you roll your eyes. You have to at least weakly defend your badassness so you smack her in the face with a pillow, "I hate you."

After you hit Quinn she seems a little daze. Probably too much movement too soon with the worst hangover she's ever had. She jumps out of the bed and you start to get up with her, "Do you have to puke again?"

"Again?" she asks, looking a little embarrassed.

"I didn't actually know it happened until you and Berry got back to bed at like four," you explain. Rachel was escorting a zombied Quinn back to the bed rubbing your blonde friend's back. You rub your head and get up off of the bed just in case Quinn needs to bolt to the bathroom. You look around at the deep colored woods of the matching furniture. "This is not really what I expected."

"What did you expect?" Quinn asks, her eyes scanning the walls.

You smirk, "A gold star shaped bed and a wall of mirrors so she could look at herself all the time." Of course that's what you pictured her high school bedroom to look like as well. But she's still high school, bottom of the social totem pole Rachel to you. You zero in on a bunch of pictures hanging next to the dresser. You grin, "Check it out Q." It was a picture of your first National Show Choir win. You can see the pure elation of Brittany's face in that picture. She hugged you so hard that day you can still feel her arms around you. Your voice drops when you add, "Brittany has that picture somewhere too." The aforementioned blonde is mad at you and you think that you should probably stop on the way home after class to get her some flowers or something.

At that moment Rachel called you both to breakfast. The conversation over breakfast was depressing because Quinn talks about not really having a dream or a life or any sort of happiness in her life at the moment. You know she'll never be happy in Lima.

You and Rachel question her about her dream and her motives for staying. Apparently you question too far because she tells you both to stop looking at her before running to the bathroom.

"I got this," you tell Rachel who is moving to stand as well.

You knock quietly on the door, "Q? I'm sorry. Please come out. I gotta get to class but I'm not leaving until I know you're okay." You pause trying to think of a way to get her out. You say the first thing that pops into your head, "If there's something important at the beginning of my class and I miss it and kill someone on the operating table it'll be on you."

You count to four before the door opens and Quinn stands there smiling at you. You pull her into your arms. She limply leans against you and sighs, "I'm sorry. I guess I really am fucked up."

You chuckle. Yeah Quinn's a little skewed, but not completely so, "You're a little fucked up, but nothing that can't be fixed." You take a step back and look her over, "Can I leave now? You're not going to try to drown yourself in the toilet or anything?"

A smile breaks out on Quinn's face which was your intention. "No. No toilet suicide."

"I gotta get going," you pull her into another hug. You're not usually huggy with people, but Quinn's going through a rough time. Being married to Finn can't be easy for anyone, especially someone who lost interest in the marriage a few months into it. You need to find a way to get Quinn to stay or at least file for divorce. When she talks to you on the phone, she sounds so…trapped. "So I'm going to leave you in the care of the superstar." They seem to be becoming great friends fast and maybe Rachel can keep her mind off things. "If you need anything call me and for the love of god, don't go to that stupid conference. If you do you probably will kill yourself."

"But I-"

"Are you really learning anything?" you ask. You know she's supposed to go for work and all, but how much can you really learn about granite whatevers.

"Well no, but-"

You cut her off with a quirked eyebrow, "Then you need to enjoy the city while you're still here." You start walking back toward the kitchen with her following you.

"You're right," she admits with a sigh, "Britt's working today?"

You can't help, but roll your eyes. The subject of Brittany and work is a tender one and every time someone brings it up, they dredge up the annoyance as well, "When is she not?"

Quinn walks you all the way to the door and hugs you again, "Someday you'll be a surgeon and she'll practically own Broadway along with our resident actress," she tosses a teasing look back at Rachel who is watching you both, "and you'll have all the time in the world together to be grotesquely affectionate and annoyingly adorable together. Just give it time."

You swallow what she says and instead of remaining serious and down about it, you revert to your six year old self (okay fine your ages four to seventeen year old self) by stomping your feet and pouting, "But I want her now." You hear Quinn laughing and add, "Thanks for breakfast Berry."

You head down the posh halls of the apartment building and finally find the elevator. On the way down you text Brittany to see if she can meet you for lunch and when you're walking out to the street you're disappointed again. She has an interview. Of course. You'd think you'd know better than to ask by now.