A/N:

1. Again, thanks so much for the faves, follows and reviews! Not gonna lie, I fangirled a little bit when I saw familiar names whose fics I've been reading were leaving reviews for mine xD

2. I'm sorry for not replying any of the reviews, but I'm braving the winter weather and its efforts to screw my internet connection -_-

3. Dialing down the funny a little bit in this chapter. Hope it's still entertaining. :)

4. As always, this is unbeta-ed, so... excuse my mistakes, lovely people.

5. Oh, aaand... someone commented that Santana & Quinn's interactions aren't terribly interesting and I appreciate that! I never meant to make their dialogues as interesting as Brittana's, but I'll work on that, thank you.

Okie dokes, hope you guys enjoy. Stay warm and safe!

The great thing about having Quinn as my best friend was that she gave me a lot of second chances. In fact, she gave me a lot more than I was willing to give myself.

For example… Back in high school, she got pregnant and, even though I managed to keep my mouth shut for as long as I needed, I screwed her up by not being a good best friend to her. Pressured by society — and by society, I meant my uber-Catholic, uber-popular surgeon of a doctor and his slew of conservative minded patients — I avoided her as much as I could. I didn't reply to her texts, didn't answer her calls... I even started waking up earlier and walked to school before she could pick me up with her car.

(Which then resulted in my dad buying me a car. But that's another story for later.)

That didn't mean I was sleeping well at nights. A part of my teenage, emo self felt like my best friend had betrayed me. After all, it was my boyfriend who impregnated her. Yup, the one and only: Noah Puckerman. Now you know why I called him Sir Brainless Balls.

The other part of me, however, couldn't care less about it. Puck didn't matter to me as much. He was just a warm body who was there for what else, but status. I might've been one of the captains of the cheerleader squad, but it was an unspoken (and as I grew older I realized that it was also illogical and completely shit) rule to have a hot football star by your side. It was like a guarantee for your status.

Anyway. I was angry. Then, somewhere along the way I realized that I was actually angry with myself.

I was angry with myself because had I been paying enough attention, I would've realized that the only reason Puck was my boyfriend (aside from my banging body and high school status of course) was that so he could be close to Quinn. Had I been paying enough attention to realize that Quinn's home life was breaking into pieces, she wouldn't have been drunk and stupidly let Puck take advantage of her. Had I been paying enough attention, Quinn wouldn't have been kicked out of her house with her baby bump by her own cheating, asshole father.

It took me until the night Quinn got into labor that I finally came to my senses. I had to learn from Puck — my ex-boyfriend and Quinn's baby daddy — that she was giving up her baby and there was nothing he could do to change her mind. For a minute I was relieved because hey, in the end Puck came back to me and I could still retain my high school royalty status. But when he tried to have sex with me just to make himself feel better, I started yelling at him in Spanish because I started thinking how fucked up it was of him to leave Quinn alone.

Quinn. Alone. Without her baby, without her parents, without her baby daddy, and most importantly, without her best friend.

So I drove as fast as I could to the hospital (after kicking Puck in the balls. D'uh.) and snuck into Quinn's room.

I remember the hospital lights being so bright that she looked so fragile, so small and so different than the strong and capable captain of the Cheerios. I walked over to her bed and held her hand. Even when she was sleeping, she had to know that she wasn't alone and that I was sorry.

The second she opened her eyes (which was a couple of hours after that) she started crying. We started crying. But we were both glad that she wasn't crying alone.

I know, I know. That sounded so… girly and mushy and all that. But seeing her sick and stuffed up from the cat hair allergies made me think of all those things. She looked almost the same as that night in the hospital bed. Dark bags under her eyes and pale skin on her face. She must have been sneezing all through the night and it was all my fault.

Well, kind of.

(Hello? 1-800-BSPUSSY? Ring any bells?)

I texted Brittany earlier to her private phone number that was written on the contract. I was going to call, but I figured I should text first in case she was still asleep. It was, after all, 6 AM. I told her that I was going to give Charity back to her because Quinn was allergic, and she replied simply:

"That's a bummer. 808."

She didn't tell me when to come by, but from the sound of that text, she was willing to take the cat back A.S.A.P.

"Quinn," I shook my best friend gently. She didn't open her eyes, but she sniffed her stuffy nose so that was good enough for me. "I'm gonna return Charity to Brittany, okay? Pancakes in the kitchen. Eat up before you take more meds. And," I checked her clock radio, "you still have a couple of hours before you have to get ready. Your day starts at noon. I'll be back before then to check on you."

Quinn hummed in response and I got out of her room. I had another blonde to go see.

"I'm sorry your friend is sick," Brittany gave me a sympathetic smile when she opened the door. "You sure you didn't know she was allergic?"

"Yeah," I huffed. "Apparently she always took Benadryl before we go visit our friend's house. They have 3 cats and yet Quinn was always fine. That's why I never knew she was allergic," I shrugged. Then I continued with a new realization. "Oh my God… that's why she always seemed like she was high whenever we were there! All this time I thought she was trying to piss off our friend for some reason. One time she just went on and on about how one of my friend's dads has the most beautiful nostrils she'd ever seen and insisted to take close up pictures with her phone. Like, who does that?"

Brittany chuckled. "You know, I think you should start to pay more attention."

I rolled my eyes playfully. "You and I both."

Then I gave her a smile, she gave me one back, and our eyes locked for a nanosecond before we both looked away. I couldn't help but wish that her reason of awkwardness was the same as mine.

(That I was into her like Rihanna was into posting close up pictures of her own boobs.)

"Um… Do you want me to take her from you right away?" she pointed at the cat I was still holding in my arms.

I looked down at Charity and hesitated. "Is it okay if I held her a while longer?"

"Of course not! Come in!" Brittany stepped aside so I could enter her apartment. She was beaming like a Christmas tree, obviously pleased that I was becoming attached to her cat. Her eyes twinkled and she shot me a grin.

Ugh.

"You are so cute," I said. Out loud. While I was looking at her face.

Fuck me.

"I — I was talking to her," I stuttered and quickly recovered. I bent my neck and pretended to kiss Charity. The poor cat was so surprised she almost clawed my eyes out. That bitch. "Charity's so cute, I don't want to let go."

Brittany moved her head a little bit and side-eyed me. She totally knew I was lying. "Right," she dragged slowly as she lead me to the couch. But then she let go the suspicion and offered me a drink. "I got soda, but it's probably too early for that. So… water? Juice? Coffee, maybe?"

"What are you having? I'll have whatever you have," I told her, not wanting to impose.

"Oh, I'm having juice," she said. Then I saw a flash of… something… on her face and she continued with a tone of voice that I was sure was illegal. "Mm-hmm. I got lots of juice. You can have my juice if you want."

I had to hand it to her. She was a pro at teasing. Right when I was about to squeak out my 'okay', she laughed out loud.

"I'm kidding! Oh my God, I'm so sorry. Sometimes I go overboard with my innuendos and teasing," she put a hand over her stomach as she laughed. Then she calmed her self down and cleared her throat. "Would you like apple, or orange juice?"

I smiled a tight smile. Maybe I was a little bit embarrassed. Maybe I was a little bit pissed off because I was constantly, unknowingly, the butt of her jokes. I didn't know. I was definitely annoyed at something, though. "Apple is fine, thank you."

We spent a few moments in silence. The only sounds heard were the clinks of glasses and the opening and closing of her refrigerator door. She was busy playing a good host and I was… wondering why her apartment was so… cozy and normal.

It didn't take long until she sat back down next to me. I noticed that she had set my beverage on the coffee table in front of us, so she gave her a smile and mouthed her a thank you. Then she smiled back at me and all at once the annoyance I had in me vanished into thin air.

"So… You like Bob?" she asked me about… someone?

"Bob?" I furrowed my eyebrows. Did I really space out that long and missed a whole conversation about this Bob person?

"Yeah, Bob," she gestured with her free hand to the whole room. "It's what I call the apartment. 808. Bob."

"Oh," I chuckled. "That's pretty clever, actually."

She shrugged and moved her head from side to side, biting her bottom lip all the while. "I get a major kick out of telling people that "I'm in Bob" when they ask me where I am," she stuck her tongue out. "Buncha perverts."

I took a small sip of apple juice that I was poured and smiled into my glass. This woman sure had a different brain than mine. I loved it.

"I bet you do," I told her. "You seem to enjoy wordplays… puns and all that."

"Yeah," she nodded. "And I owe you an apology."

I shrugged nonchalantly. "It's okay. I'm kinda over it."

"Oh, not just about earlier!" she set her glass down on the coffee table and shifted her position so that she was facing me. "About everything! I mean, I'm sure you didn't call the number because you were looking to cuddle with cats, right?"

"I, uh…" I blushed. I didn't think we were going to have this talk. But I told her the truth anyway. "Yeah… I didn't. I was actually looking for… y'know…"

"You were looking for actual pussies, I know," she cut me off. Damn, I really hated the way she could say the word so casually. It was so hot and yet I was embarrassed that I kept thinking it was hot. "And I lead you on, making you think you were gonna have a night of awesome, mind-blowing, bed-shaking, neighbor-deafening sex."

"That's… one way to put it," I cleared my throat, still heavily blushing hearing all those words pouring out of her mouth. I was also imagining a night of awesome, mind-blowing, bed-shaking, neighbor-deafening sex with her. Apparently my dirty mind was winning this game of tag like a mofo.

I shook my head quickly in hopes that it would shake off those naughty images I was having. Brittany noticed my movement and took it as my way of telling her that I forgave her and that her antics the other day didn't matter anymore.

Of course that made her want to apologize some more.

"I'm sorry for asking you how fuzzy you like your pussies," she told me. "I totally took that too far. I couldn't help it. You were just too cute when you were flustered and that's why I had that speech about pussies being wet—"

… Aaand I had to stop her right there because for some reason I knew she would be using a lot more of her, um, super choice words.

"Brittany," I cut her off and gave her my sweet-as-cotton-candy smile. I don't give it away often, but when I did, I usually really, really needed something to happen. "Really, it's fine. To be honest, I'm kinda glad you showed up."

"You are?"

Seeing Brittany beamed like a little kid who was watching fireworks for the first time, I realized what I had just implied. Naturally, I deflected. But that didn't mean I was going to lie. "Yeah. You brought me Charity and we got along pretty well. I actually enjoyed her company last night."

"Oh," she pursed her lips. And maybe did something with her hair but I was too busy admiring her lips. I heard a hint of disappointment in her voice but, considering she then continued with her regular tone of voice, I was pretty sure it was part of my imagination. "Did you cuddle last night? Did you pet my pussy?" she wiggled her eyebrows playfully and this time I managed to get the humor and chuckled.

"Yes, I petted your pussy," I chuckled. "And yes, we cuddled afterwards." I can play this game too. I hope.

"Score," Brittany winked.

I chuckled again at her and then turned to look at Charity. By that time, the black and white cat was already out of my hands. She was basking in the sunlight right in front of the balcony's glass doors. "She was really comfy and soft. Cuddling her was really therapeutic."

"I know what you mean," Brittany agreed.

I sighed. I really didn't want to let that cat go. "Too bad I can't keep her with me."

"Your friend?" she took another sip of her OJ. "Her allergies are that bad, huh?"

"Actually, it's really not that bad. All she did was sneeze like a million times. She just had to pop some pills and get a good night's sleep," I explained Quinn's situation to her. "I just don't have enough first hand knowledge about allergies and I really don't want to make it worse for her."

Brittany smiled softly at me for that. "You're such a good friend, Santana."

"Pfft…" I blushed and waved my hand at her. "Quinn would've fought you about that. I'm really not."

"Yeah, right. You just put her wellbeing before your own. If I had a sticker book I'd be giving you a gold star right now," she tried to convince me.

"Ah, well… what can I do? She's my best friend, after all," I gave in. It was kind of nice to have someone say nice things about me for once. For sure the people in my office wouldn't have told me that. "Anyway… is there anything in the contract about cancellations or early returns? You know, like rental cars?"

"Hmm," Brittany looked up at the ceiling, showcasing her creamy, soft looking neck that I could just kis—

Damn. I should really stop, shouldn't I?

"I don't think I put a clause for early returns in the contract. Time extensions, yes. But nothing about giving back my cats early. I mean, It's not like I'm not gonna take them back, right?"

"Huh… I guess you're right," I nodded.

"Besides… I have a proposition for you," she put her glass down and changed her sitting position again. She crossed her leg so slowly that had I not known about her habit of teasing people to the max, I would've assumed (hoped) she was coming on to me. "You like Charity, right?"

"Very much," I replied without hesitation. Charity was awesome. Her black and white fur was beautifully maintained. She was just the right amount of clingy and she didn't have the behaviors of a diva. If she had, there was no doubt Charity and I wouldn't have gotten along so well.

"Well, would you like to keep renting her during your whole stay in Vegas?

"Brittany," I sighed. "I really do, but Quinn won't like that. If I brought her back to the apartment, someone's gonna die. Now, it's not gonna be Charity, but I have a feeling it'll be either Quinn from her allergies, or me because I'm pretty sure Quinn's very capable in making a homicide look like an accident."

Brittany laughed at my exaggerated reasons and the butterflies in my stomach started tickling its walls.

"Hear me out. What if you can come visit Charity here, in Bob, whenever you want?" she asked.

"You're being serious?" I asked and she nodded. But like, "how? And I don't want to intrude. After all, we just met. We're practically strangers. Are you sure you want me to wander around your apartment?"

"We're not really strangers," she shrugged. "Well, at least, we won't be anymore. We'll talk and get to know each other," she paused and then raised an eyebrow, looking at me pointedly. "Did you really think I was gonna leave you alone in my apartment with her?"

"Well, not really… But… are you sure? I mean, you must have other things to do other than babysitting me with you cat. I'm—"

"Santana," she cut me off and caught my wrist so I'd stop talking. "I wanna do this for you. There was a reason you called — there's always a reason when people call my number, and that was why I started this business. I wanted to help them. Even if I can't take their problems away completely, I would like to help in some way."

Her explanation got me completely speechless. I wasn't going to lie; my assumptions about her were bad. I had assumed she was just doing it to prank unsuspecting people like me — intentionally making them fluster with all those innuendos and whatnot. I was ashamed to learn that her intentions were noble. I was also feeling ashamed because what do they say about people who make assumptions? That those assumptions are based on themselves.

I still had one question in my mind though. "And you wanted to help them by… renting out your cats?"

"I know it sounds strange, but… like I said, Charity and Lord Tubbington, my other cat, helped me through a lot of stuff. So there must be people like me out there that would like some TLC from fluffy cats."

Her blue eyes seemed so sad. So genuinely heartbroken that I wanted to pull her into my arms and just give her a big, giant hug. But I figured it would've been too weird. She said we weren't going to be strangers anymore, but in reality, I still thought we were. Well, that, and I didn't think hugging her was a good idea considering I was as horny as a unicorn in heat.

I considered asking her about what had happened in her past, but that didn't seem like a stranger's territory to delve either. So I comforted her in another way. "I'm not gonna lie, it does sound a little strange at first. But the more I think about it, the more I think it's genius."

We spent a little more time talking, but when I realized it was almost 11, I had to tell her that I promised to check on Quinn.

Brittany pouted (and oh how adorable was that pout), so I told her that I was game for her so-called proposition. I would be coming to the apartment to play with Charity, and she was going to be there to supervise.

Of course secretly I wanted more than that. I hoped what she said about us talking more and getting to know each other better was not just an empty promise that she was making. But somewhere deep inside, I already knew she was worth believing in.

As I was making my way out, I looked around the apartment. I kept expecting her "girls" to be wandering around the living room, scratching the doors and what not. Brittany herself said that the 13 cats in her apartment caused a lot of mess.

"You're looking for the cats, are you?" she asked me, looking over her shoulder as she walked. She was leading me towards the door.

"How can you tell?"

She chuckled. "It's not hard when you got your head looking left and right. To answer your unspoken question, they're safe in the other apartment."

"Oh right, the connecting doors," I nodded.

"Yup. The owner of the building gave me permission to modify the other room and transformed it into kitty heaven."

"Ah. I see. I just thought they'd be running around, living 24/7 with you," I stated. From the way she talked about them, it sure sounded like they would be.

"Hm," she held the apartment door with her right hand, making sure I was safe from it smacking me right in the face. "They sometimes do. I just don't normally open the door when I'm having a guest."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"Well, for starters, for someone who's only been here once, you'd be overwhelmed by 13 cats running around you."

I bopped my head up and down. "That would definitely overwhelm me."

"And then… no offense, but I'm just keeping them safe. I've had some experiences with bad people trying to steal my cats. The cable guy, the deliver guy from that pizza place across the street…"

"Marzano?"

"Yep," she confirmed. "Pizza Marzano. Never will I order from them again."

"That's really messed up," I scrunched my nose. "People really do that?"

"Yeah, apparently they do," she frowned. But, "You can see them next time. I'm not worried about you taking off with one of my cats."

I raised an eyebrow. "Really? Why?"

"Because, you don't wanna be on my blacklist," she smirked. "You want to see my pussy."

Well, now. I won't fall again for that.

"See, you've used them so much, I'm not gonna fall for any of your innuendos again. I know you're talking about Charity," I said, waving my pointer finger at her playfully. She smirked.

You'd think after our earlier conversation, I would've learned to never assume anything when it comes to Brittany's way of thinking. Apparently I've failed at doing so, because as soon as I confidently said what I had said, Brittany took a step forward and whispered in my ears so deliciously... delicious.

Just like that, she walked backwards and closed her door, leaving a very speechless, very stunned me in the hallway with her last question still ringing in my ears.

"Who said anything about cats?"