Author's Note: A gold star to Orange-Green for getting the coma reference from the extra credit question from the last chapter! Nice job! This is a short one. Enjoy!

"God, I can't believe that little troll! Honestly, what the hell is she doing? You don't just go around blabbing people's deepest, darkest secrets to everyone! Well, I mean, I do, but that's just because I'm a bitch. But I would never do that about someone's sexuality! Seriously, who does that? That's just...cruel! Don't get mad at me or anything, Britt, but if you hadn't been there I so would have gone all Lima Heights on her ass. That little dwarf—making me drive all around Lima in the middle of the fucking night and keeping me up when I could be back at home in bed, sleeping, and gettin' my cuddle on with my Britts. Ugh. B, all I ask is that you let me hit her once. That's all I want. One time. That's it. No more, no less. Because little miss Broadway Barbie needs ta' be taught a lesson. You do not mess with Santana Motherfucking Lopez. No, so not okay. Or...maybe I can shove her into a locker instead. It would be a little cramped, but making her fit shouldn't be too much of an issue. Would you prefer that, B? Except for the initial struggle it's usually a little less violent. B?"

Santana tore her eyes from the road and briefly switched her focus over to the passenger seat of her car. Brittany was slumped in her seat and she had her head resting in the palm of her hand. Her mouth was slightly agape and her eyes were closed softly. Her deep, rhythmic breaths were muffled against the skin of her hand.

Santana gently shook her shoulder. "Britt. Wake up."

"Mmmm."

"Hey, wake up! This is not the time for sleeping!" Santana gave Brittany's shoulder a much firmer shake.

Brittany let out a startled snort. "Huh?" Her eyes shot open and she jumped in her seat, surprised by the sudden wake-up call.

"How can you sleep at a time like this? We're on a mission!"

"But San..." Brittany whined.

"No. I don't want to hear it. You can sleep later."

"But I'm tired! I came over to your house to sleep, remember?"

"Vaguely."

"I need my beauty sleep."

"You look stunning," Santana said, the sarcasm radiating in her voice. She offered a sly smirk over to Brittany who crossed her arms against her chest and rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, yeah." Brittany groaned.

"You know I'm kidding, Britt-Britt. You always look beautiful, no matter what." Her smirk faded to a light genuine smile.

At the remark, Brittany uncrossed her arms and leaned back in her seat. She propped her feet up above the glove compartment. "Thanks, San."

"Mhm."

"Why can't it just wait until morning, though? Human beings aren't usually up this late...or is it technically early? Which one is it?"

"Either works. Use whichever one you want."

"Oh, okay." Brittany scratched her head as she went into a bit of daze while she contemplated what she had just learned. "My point is," she continued thoughtfully, returning her focus to Santana, "Mercedes is probably asleep. She's not going to tell the world while she's snoozing. Worst case scenario, she does it in a dream, and I don't think that's anything to worry about."

"But what if she wakes up early tomorrow and decides to open that sassy mouth of hers before I have a chance to lay down the law? Or worse, maybe she'll start sleep-talking and call up everyone we know! I can't take that kind of a chance! It's too risky."

"Now you're just being paranoia."

"Paranoid, but close enough."

"Whatever. Seriously, Santana, I think you're overreacting a little. I know it's a big deal and that you're scared and all, but I think you need to relax, get a little sleep, and calm down before you do something or say something that you might regret."

"Something that I regret? Oh, so you mean like, I don't know, telling the biggest gossip in school besides me and Jewfro that I'm a lesbian and have a big, lesbian crush on you?" Santana retorted.

"Well no, not exa—" Brittany stopped short. "Oh..." she muttered. She defeatedly pulled her legs down and tucked them underneath her chin on her seat. Her expression wilted and she turned away to face the door to avoid what she assumed would be a fuming Santana's glare.

As soon as she had uttered the accusation, Santana instantly regretted it. She hadn't planned on being so straightforward and harsh. She had sort of been going for passive aggressive, but it was too late now. The words had slipped out before she could even think about what she was saying and now she was going to suffer the consequences. She had a habit of doing that far too much—but rarely did it ever happen with Brittany.

Maybe Brittany was right. Maybe she did need some sleep. She was feeling a little tired after all, and that was probably the reason why she was suddenly moody. One second she was joking around with Brittany, the next she was being a bitch. She needed to get her head on straight and sleep did sound nice. Not to mention doing so curled up next to her blonde, best friend was always a plus.

But she couldn't. She had to do this. She was almost at Mercedes' house anyway and it wouldn't make sense driving all the way back to Lima Heights Adjacent now. Not after they'd come this far. And she definitely couldn't risk what would happen in the morning—particularly since the two of them would probably be sleeping in late after this little excursion. There was too much risk involved and this was not something Santana was willing to bet her cards on.

She glanced over to Brittany who refused to look back at her. Despite not being able to see her face, her body language clearly spoke of dejection. Santana sighed and briefly shut her eyes before returning them to the road in front of her. She eased up on the gas a little and slowed the car to a more leisurely pace. "I'm sorry. That was out of line."

Upon hearing the meekness in Santana's voice (and an apology at that) rather than the accusatory backlash that she had been expecting, Brittany returned her gaze forward and shook her head. "No, you're right. This is all my fault."

Santana took a hand off the wheel and massaged her temples. "No, no, it's not. It's just as much Rachel's for telling and mine for not being open about this in the first place. Don't blame yourself."

"But I—"

"Can we please not argue? I really don't want to fight with you about this—or anything for that matter. Listen, you're right. I'm tired and it's making me irritable. I want to go home and go to sleep with you, but we're so close now that it would be a total waste to turn around and drive home."

It was quiet for a few moments that felt more like short lifetimes. "Fine," Brittany finally replied. "No more crying and no more arguing."

"Deal." Santana stuck out her pinky and Brittany linked it with her own in official agreement.

"Deal," Brittany echoed. "I hate it when you're mad at me anyway. It makes me a sad little panda."

"And I don't like it when you're mad at me either. Or when you're a sad little panda," Santana said. "Now can I ask you for some advice?"

"Of course, Sanny."

"Obviously the meeting with Rachel didn't go over too well. I don't want to make the same mistake with Mercedes. I don't really know how she's going to react, but something tells me she's going to be really cranky when we wake her up."

"Even worse than you."

"What? I'm not cranky when I wake up..." Santana muttered under her breath.

"Yes you are. But that's okay. It's kind of cute."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Moving on! How should I approach this so that I don't do the same thing again?"

Brittany bit and chewed on her lower lip as she went deep into thought for a few moments. "Oh! I've got it!" She chimed.

"What?"

"Maybe instead of going to Mercedes' house, we can go see Dr. Howell instead! Then he can give you some of that Britney Spears gas and you can go into Mercedes' dream, like that time we combined our phantasies, and then you can tell her. That way you don't have to wake her up and neither of you will risk killing each other. Just put the idea in her head that she doesn't want to tell anyone. It'll be like Inception! Except you're way hotter than Leonardo DiCaprio."

Santana's jaw dropped and her mouth hung open. She raised a questioning eyebrow. "Uh, well you know that's a really clever idea, Britt-Britt, but unfortunately I don't know where Dr. Howell lives. Or if he'd even be willing to help us in the first place. He'd want to know why I want the anesthesia. And something tells me that he's not going to believe me when I say I need a middle of the night-emergency-super-strong bleaching. But good idea nonetheless." She reached over and gave Brittany's hand a little squeezed.

"Yeah, you're totally right."

"A for effort, though." Santana nodded and gave Brittany a thumbs up.

"Maybe you should just straight up tell her what the problem is and ask her not to tell. No insults, no threats, and no fighting or attacking her." Brittany suggested pensively. "That way it won't take long and we can go home and sleep." She finished the thought with a bit of enthusiasm.

"Easier said than done."

"Oh c'mon, San. It wouldn't kill you to be nice to someone for one little conversation. Just pretend we're in Glee and performing a group number. That always puts you in a better mood."

Santana sighed in concession. "Fine," she said in a huff. "I'll give it a try. But just know that I'm only doing this for you."

"Thank you, Sanny." Brittany smiled triumphantly and leaned over to give Santana a light peck on the cheek. "You're very sweet."

Santana felt herself blush. "Like I said, only for you, Britt."

At that moment she pulled up to the curb next to Mercedes' house and turned the car off. She unfastened her seat belt and then leaned back in her seat, tilting her head back and closing her eyes for a couple seconds. "I can't believe I have to do this," she exhaled.

Santana opened her eyes when she felt a warm, comforting hand over her own. Brittany smiled over at her encouragingly, as if to say, "you can do this".

The grip on the back of Santana's hand was loose, so she turned her own over to wrap her fingers around Brittany's palm so that their hands were interlocked. She gave Brittany's hand a reassuring squeeze.

Brittany took the gesture as a silent thank-you.

The two remained that way for a full silent minute until eventually Santana pulled her hand away. "Alright, let's get this over with."

"Atta girl. Go get 'em, tiger!"

A/N: I loved this chapter so I hope you did too! Please review! It makes me a happy author.

And here's your extra credit question: Can you find the line I stole from Mean Girls?