A/N: Thanks to MKAmericanhero and ocean101996 for reviewing (again! You're my favourite, now!)

Glee doesn't belong to me. Who would have guessed?

"Go on, go tell everyone! We go our separate ways; you tell Aretha about my shirt, she tells her hundred closest friends and bam, you've got your revenge for all the crap I've put you through. Kurt Hummel is back at McKinley, and everyone knows Santana Lopez is a dyke!"

Mercedes gasped, causing Kurt and Santana to notice her skulking.

"Well, Santana, it looks like you took care of telling Mercedes."

S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S

It had to be a dream, right?

It had to be.

Because there's no freaking way Santana Lopez just outed herself to the two biggest gossips in the school.

Oh, God. My life is over.

It had to be a dream. That morning, she was happy and excited. She got to wear a shirt that said "Bitch" on it. Really, that was enough to start her day off well. It was an excuse, really. She could be so much harsher to the rest of Glee Club – wearing that shirt, she'd have almost an obligation to be mean.

Just because it was the best part of her day did not change the fact that they were mostly a bunch of freaks. Come on, Hudson has little goblin teeth, and Berry always looks like a thrift store threw up on her.

And then Brittany had to ruin it all. With the look in her eyes, and with her words, and with that shirt. That damn shirt that she was still wearing, because, well, she didn't know why.

Because she's Brittany and I'm Santana, and I'm in love with her.

Okay, so Santana could admit that to herself, but it did not mean she wanted to admit anything like it to Hummel or his hag.

Speaking of which, they were both still staring at her in shock. Please, like she owed them an explanation. It would only add to whatever they were going to tell everyone. She had to go into damage control, the best way she knew how.

Threats and intimidation. They're kind of her thing.

"Listen Hummel, Wheezy," she started, while cracking her knuckles,

"I'm not sure what you think you're going to tell everyone, so I'm just going to tell you what you're doing next. Nothing. You so much as imply anything you think you know about me, and I go full Lima Heights on you, I mean-"

Kurt cut her off with a simple cough. Santana was caught off guard, and lost the momentum of her speech – nobody coughed when she was talking. Nobody.

She could only stare at the boy as he turned to Mercedes. They appeared to be having some kind of silent conversation. She would shake her head, he'd raise an eyebrow, she would frown, he would ridiculously widen his eyes.

Britt and I used to talk like that, Santana thought sadly.

Before that duet competition. Before Wheels.

Suddenly she felt like crying again. No, she felt like shouting.

"Listen, you don't just cut off Santana Lopez. You cut off Santana Lopez, and she cuts you."

The pair in front of her continued their staring contest, completely ignoring her threats. Santana shut her mouth with an audible snap, and huffed, folding her arms.

Mercedes shrugged and sighed, causing Kurt to smile broadly and turn back to Santana. It would seem that he won whatever battle they were having.

"Santana," the boy started,

"Loathe as I am to extend any kind of comfort to a known bully, I will tell you the same thing I told someone in a… similar position to you,"

Kurt raised an eyebrow.

Karofsky. He hasn't told Mercedes. Interesting.

Santana nodded her understanding, curious as to where this was going. She kept her arms folded, though, not wanting them to think she actually cared about what Kurt had to say.

"I don't believe in denying who you are, but I don't believe in outing, either. Mercedes and I will keep your secret, but some things have to change. I fully support the Bully Whips, despite their ridiculous name and even more ridiculous jackets."

Mercedes snorted, but otherwise continued her uncharacteristic quiet.

"However,"

Kurt paused again, this time to give her a piercing look.

"However, we all know that the Bully Whips are a front. I don't know why you are campaigning so hard for Prom Queen. Quinn will win, despite this week's setback. Irrelevant. I want to know that Mercedes and myself will be free from your harassment: in the halls, in private, and after Prom. Because my name-"

The boy's voice cracked slightly, though he continued to stare unwaveringly at Santana.

"My name is Kurt. Not 'Gay Kid' or 'Lady Face' or 'Porcelain'. And Mercedes isn't 'Aretha' or 'Wheezy' or anything else. If you can say our names when you're out in the halls in that beret, then you can say our names in private!"

Kurt's voice had risen towards the end of the mini-speech, and now he was glaring at Santana challengingly, chest heaving slightly.

Kurt's not going to tell anyone? He could ruin me. This… this means a lot to him. And it means more to me, even though he has me over a barrel either way.

Santana hesitated for a moment, and then came to a decision. She began to speak, carefully, avoiding eye contact.

"Kurt, Mercedes. I-"

She swallowed heavily, and continued.

"I promise that I'll try to be nicer. This is who I've been for years, but I can't make excuses for that any more. I'm trying to change. This shirt is me trying to change. I don't know who I am, though. I don't know who I am without-"

Santana looked straight into their eyes, showing a glint of what made her one of Sue Sylvester's best cheerleaders.

"If you tell anyone – if you tell anyone anything I've said to you, well, I'll let your imagination run wild on that one. Now, if you'll excuse me, Kurt and Mercedes, David is about to finish football practice, and we've got a date."

Santana picked up her jacket, which had lain forgotten over a chair, and shrugged it on. It was a casual move, perfect. But she couldn't stop her hands from shaking as she pulled the zip securely over the writing on her shirt.

Trying to pretend that they hadn't all seen her weakness, she moved to leave the auditorium.

"Santana…"

Her name, softly spoken by Mercedes, caused the ex-cheerleader to turn back to the two friends.

The look on Mercedes' face – a mixture of pity and understanding – made the Santana suddenly feel as though all of the walls were closing in on her.

I can't stay here, I can't.

"Don't, Mercedes. We're not friends. Please don't."

Doesn't she understand the word is always there? The shirt doesn't matter.

The steely look was gone from Santana's eyes, replaced by vulnerability, and growing moisture.

Quickly, she turned away from them again, and left.

S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S

Kurt watched the girl leave, and then looked to Mercedes. His friend was still watching the exit. Without turning to look at him, she spoke.

"Did you have any idea?"

"That Santana is a lesbian? No. I thought all of what Brittany has said was a joke, or just wrong."

Mercedes tore her gaze away from the door to look at him with incredulity.

"No, you fool! I meant did you know that she's got it bad for her best friend? Me and Tina have had a bet running since ninth grade about when Santana would admit to liking the ladies, but I didn't think she loved Brittany like that."

Kurt reeled back physically from Mercedes' revelation, and gaped at her. Or gave the closest approximation to a gape that he was capable of making. Class was a pursuit, not something to be gained instantly.

Why am I the last to know? Does everyone else know?

"You knew? I thought we had all agreed that Brittany was wrong! How did you find out?"

Mercedes laughed at Kurt, and then moved to exit after Santana.

"Man, you really had no idea? Oh, Kurt, come on, let's grab some coffee. I'll teach you about gaydar. Aren't you meant to be naturally good at that, or something? You sure missed the big one."

She paused.

"And then you can explain to me why we're keeping this a secret. Santana has always been horrible to you. I hope you realise that I'm doing this for you, not her. You'd better have a damn good reason for making me hush on the biggest gossip of the year."

Kurt smiled.

"You go ahead, Mercedes, I'll just be a minute."

The girl nodded her assent, and walked out of the auditorium.

Once he was alone, Kurt let out a sigh, and walked slowly to collect his jacket from the front row.

The boy dusted the jacket off, and then moved to put it on. He paused, and considered the item in his hands.

Coming to a decision, he stashed the jacket in his bag, and walked proudly into the halls of McKinley, shirt and message clearly visible.

As Rachel Berry often said, metaphors were important.


A/N: I'll try to get another chapter up in the next two days. Things are a bit busy at the moment, plus I'm trying to make chapters longer. Hope you enjoyed this one.