As per, cheers for all the reviews and favourites etc :)
This chapter took me bloody ages to write, and I'm still not entirely happy with the way it turned out...But I hope you all like it just the same :)
I was pleasantly surprised at how much I liked Diva, although the weird Tina/Blaine shit was possibly one of the creepiest things the show has ever done.
Brittana and Faberry might be my Glee otps, but I am never going to turn down a bit of Quinntana, so hopefully tonight's episode won't be too horrific lol.
Anyway, I'll shut up now, and feel free to leave me a review about how craptastic this chapter is on a scale of one to ten :)
CHAPTER SEVEN
"Santana Jennifer Lopez, wake up you lazy excuse for a human being."
Of the many ways Santana would like to be woken up at 7am on a Saturday morning, Quinn Fabray hammering on her bedroom door and screeching at her is somewhere near the bottom of the list. Below Puck kicking down her door and strolling in serenading her with Sweet Caroline, but above having to listen to Kurt and Rachel squabble about who sang Defying Gravity better in sophomore year. Both of which have actually happened. The diva-off was fucking years ago, but apparently The Gayberry Twins can't let it go.
"Santana, seriously, you need to get up or you'll be late for work. Get out or I'll send Rachel in there."
Why the fuck is Berry suddenly constantly in their apartment? Santana gets enough of the irritatingly loud dwarf the few times a week she sees her, she doesn't need her setting up hobbit camp in their living room.
Then Santana remembers last night. Kurt fucking off with Sebastian, Brittany pouncing on her in the club toilets, her subsequent freaking out. Classy, Santana groans to herself, burying her head deeper into her pillow. Actually, if Kurt brought Sebastian back to the apartment he shares with Rachel, that would probably explain the annoying singing she can now hear drifting through from the kitchen. Kurt's not exactly quiet, as Santana unfortunately discovered by walking in on him and Blaine last year, so she doesn't blame Rachel for not wanting to be kept awake by that.
She opens her eyes and rolls onto her back, staring at the ceiling. She kissed Brittany last night. Again. Well, technically Brittany kissed her, but it's not like she gave Santana much of a choice. She shuts her eyes again, for once just letting herself remember the way Brittany's body felt against hers, how Brittany's lips tasted, how Brittany sounded whimpering into her ear. She can almost still feel Brittany's lips on her neck, or her chest pressing against Santana's. When the telltale tugs of arousal begin in her stomach, she opens her eyes again, steeling herself.
This has to stop. For good.
She is going to find Brittany at some point today and tell her it was a mistake.
Developing feelings for her employee she can handle. Kissing said employee not once, but two times, she can't. If anyone finds out, she would be the one to take the blame, but she would also have to fire Brittany, and she won't be able to deal with the guilt of basically ruining Brittany's career. She'd ruin the reputation of Lopez-Fabray Design as well, which she can do to herself, but not to Brittany.
She also wouldn't be able to deal with the disappointment she'd get from Quinn. As much as they bicker and fight and insult each other, Quinn is Santana's best friend, and the closest thing she has to a real family.
If it wasn't for Quinn, Santana would probably still be stuck in Lima, back in Ohio, drinking herself to an early grave, pushing away anyone that tried to come too close. Quinn was the one to pick the pieces of her up off the floor after Spencer broke her heart, and gave her the motivation to start putting herself back together.
She can't get involved with Brittany. No matter how much she might want to.
Santana slowly drags herself out of bed, thankful her headache isn't too bad. Or at least, isn't too bad until Rachel's badgering Quinn pays off, and the two of them burst into a loud rendition of I Feel Pretty/Unpretty, the mash-up that won their Glee Club Regionals in Junior Year. She staggers into the kitchen debating if she should just stab them with a knife, or get creative with the electric whisk.
"Good morning Santana!" Rachel trills, while flipping a pancake in the pan she's holding.
"Do you live here now or something?" Santana gives her a withering glare, ignoring her greeting, before making a beeline for the coffee machine.
"Santana, I apologize for my frequent visits, but unfortunately Finn is being an ass, and Quinn is being remarkably helpful and supportive." How Rachel can string together that many words this early in the morning, Santana will never know.
"The only kind of help you need is the professional kind, Berry."
Quinn snorts in a particularly unladylike manner, and Rachel just looks offended, before flouncing off, announcing she's going to have a shower.
"Seriously Quinn, has she like moved in or something? She's using our fucking hot water, eating my fucking food, sleeping in your fucking clothes."
Santana can feel Quinn's eye roll from across the kitchen. "No Santana, she has not moved in. Finn's just being his usual idiotic self, and she didn't want to talk to Kurt about it considering the whole Blaine thing. So I said she could come over as often as she wanted, if she needed to talk or something. Anyway, where were you last night?"
Santana takes a huge gulp of her coffee as soon as it's cool enough to drink. "Oh my God that is amazing." She moans dramatically, winking at Quinn, who just rolls her eyes. "Kurt and I went to Rainbow, he wanted to get drunk and rebound." Okay, not entirely true, but it's not a lie either.
"Judging by how dumb an idea that is, I take it you suggested that?" Quinn raises her eyebrow over her own mug of coffee.
"Why does everybody think my advice is awful?"
"Because it is." Santana ignores Quinn's laughing as she walks over to the stove and piles some of Rachel's pancakes onto a plate.
She's halfway through her third one when she realizes Quinn's watching her. She chews carefully and then swallows the enormous bite of pancake in her mouth. "These are vegan aren't they?"
Quinn nods, the smirk on her face getting bigger. "Rachel said you'd like them if you just gave them a try. Clearly she was right."
Santana groans. She hears Rachel finally get out of the bathroom, and abandons the pancakes to go and have a shower. Passing a towel-clad Rachel in the hallway, she fights back the urge to make some snarky comment about Rachel's legs – which okay, wouldn't even be true, they go on for fucking miles for somebody who's like three foot tall – and pats her on the head.
"Nice pancakes, Berry."
She laughs at Rachel's indignant ranting about manners Santana! I realize I am a guest in your home but I made those pancakes for my own breakfast! as she closes the bathroom door and switches the shower on.
/
"You have got to be kidding." Santana says flatly.
She hears somebody mutter told you she wouldn't go for it but she doesn't know who. She also doesn't care. She fixes her gaze on Tina, standing at the front of the group, next to the whiteboard where the projector is beaming up the best way for Santana to run the Hollidaze project straight into the ground. "You have sixty seconds, starting now, to convince me why I should go for this insane idea."
"Santana, I know it's… Different, and Holly might not even go for it, but think about it, it's funny, it still makes sense, and if anybody was going to get away with it, it would be Holly Holliday." Tina looks mildly terrified, but Santana doesn't blame her. She's had years to perfect her cold bitch expression; she's an expert at it now. She should get it patented.
"All of you get out. Except you, Chang, you stay right here." The rest of the advertising department files out of the meeting room, a few of them shooting sympathetic looks at Tina.
Santana is quite pleased with herself that she's managed to look Tina in the eye today, considering Tina basically cockblocked Santana and Brittany last night. Is there a lesbian equivalent to cockblocking? Clamjamming? Twatswatting?
Santana shakes off her odd train of thought and focuses on the whiteboard again. A quickly put together mock-up of the poster part of the Hollidaze advertising campaign is displayed, Sebastian and Sugar's faces grinning back at her, with the Hollidaze logo emblazoned across the top. That's not what Santana is concerned about though. The tagline is what she's having trouble deciding if it's a brilliant idea, or one of the worst anyone in this company has had. Personally, she thinks it's quite hilarious having a travel company with the tagline Why don't you go away? but the more uptight part of the population might not go for it. People such as Quinn. Quinn would never go for this.
"Santana, can you at least think about it?" Tina says, her voice shaking nervously.
"How long have you worked here?" Santana asks abruptly.
"Um, about a month and a half."
"Correct. In that month and a half, you've established yourself as possibly one of the best designers we've ever employed. I actually trust you. I trust you to make good decisions regarding our various projects." She smiles at Tina. She's trying to be nice, and Tina still looks frightened. Christ, this is why she doesn't usually bother being nice, too much effort and not enough reward. "Look, personally, I love it. I just don't know if Holly or the general audience would."
Tina's eyebrows furrow slightly. "I think Holly would. It's the kind of witty sarcasm she's known for."
Santana mulls it over for a few moments. "Okay, I'll make you a deal. If I run it past Holly to see if she'll go for it, and if she does, then we have our tagline.
Tina looks confused. "What do I have to do?"
"You, Asian Persuasion," Santana smirks. "Are the one that's going to run it by Quinn."
Santana cackles gleefully at the look of terror on Tina's face, and strolls out of the room.
/
Santana is standing in line at Starbucks, eyeing a slice of cherry cake sitting on the pastry counter, when the door opens behind her. A blast of cold October air smacks into Santana and she shivers, wishing she'd brought her blazer with her.
"You look cold." For once, Santana is thankful she feels like a lovesick teenager, because hearing Brittany's amused voice warms her entire body up.
She turns round to greet the blond. "Don't know what you're talking about, October in New York is practically tropical."
Brittany laughs, and Santana tries not to swoon, as usual. She then notices Brittany seems to have about 50 layers on. "You know the studio is only across the street right, it's not like you have to hike through a blizzard to get here, you're wearing far too much."
And just like that, the temperature in Starbucks seems to spike up a few degrees. Considering the last time they saw each other, Santana had her legs wrapped around Brittany's waist while the blond pressed kisses down her neck and this is definitely not the time to be thinking about this, Santana is surprised they actually managed to have a few sentences of normal conversation before she stuck her foot in her mouth.
Judging from the pink tinge spreading over Brittany's face, she's thinking about the exact same thing Santana is. She clears her throat. "Um, I was actually going to a sandwich place a few blocks over. I just saw you in here and wanted to say hi first. I haven't seen you today."
Santana nearly melts. Brittany is so sweet, and Santana's just… Not, and she has no idea why Brittany has even taken an interest in her. She almost wishes Brittany hadn't. It's just going to make it harder for Santana to tell Brittany everything was a mistake.
"Technically, you have already seen me today…" Santana trails off, raising her eyebrows suggestively, then laughing when realization spreads across Brittany's face, and she turns even pinker.
"Shut up." Brittany mumbles, trying and failing at keeping a smile off her face. She bites her lip and looks up at Santana, and Santana has to resist the urge to throw herself at the blond. Again. "Do you want to come have lunch with me?" Brittany asks, and Santana is nodding before she even thinks about it, because it's not like she's ever going to be able to say no to Brittany.
They walk out of Starbucks and turn left, walking along the street. Santana shivers, and again wishes she'd brought her blazer.
"Here." She turns to look at Brittany, and sees her tugging her jacket off, and then unzipping the hoodie she has on underneath, removing it and handing it to Santana. Santana tries to protest, but Brittany just shrugs her jacket back on and looks at Santana. "It's cold Santana. I don't want you to freeze. I don't know if a snowman could run a company as well as you can, but I don't think so. Or snowwoman?"
Santana feels another of her Brittany Smiles tugging at her lips, i.e. the dopey one that makes her look like one half of those ridiculous couples on Valentine's Day adverts. While Brittany chatters on about gender roles in snow-people, and pulls the blond's white hoodie on, feeling the warmth spread through her body. It's from Abercrombie, one of those insanely fluffy ones that probably cost an entire paycheck. She wraps her arms around herself, inhaling the blond's scent, allowing herself a few more indulgent moments before she cuts off whatever this is with Brittany.
She wonders if this is what breaking up with somebody feels like.
/
"Wait," Santana interrupts Brittany, speaking through a mouthful of sandwich. She swallows, since spraying Brittany with half chewed bread might not be the best idea. "You came up with the tagline?"
Brittany nods and looks down, fixing her attention on her half eaten sandwich in front of her. "I did."
Santana realizes how incredulous her question sounded, and how Brittany might have taken it. "No, wait, I didn't mean it like that, like I don't think you're capable of coming up with something like that, I just meant I didn't realize you were the one who'd come up with it. Tina never said who thought of it, I just assumed it was her, or someone in the advertising department." Santana knows she's rambling and she is very aware of how much of an idiot she sounds.
Brittany laughs, and takes a sip of her drink. "I didn't even realize it could be offensive, I just thought, it's a travel company, why don't people go away? As I'm sure you've noticed, I sometimes mix up my words." She looks down, breaking eye contact with Santana, her smile falling slightly. "Just something I've always had a problem with, since like middle school."
Santana hesitates, but thinks fuck it, and reaches over the table to brush her fingers over the back of Brittany's hand. "Doesn't mean you're not still one of the smartest people I've ever met." The resulting smile Brittany aims at Santana causes warmth to flood through her body from somewhere in her chest.
After a few more moments of just smiling like a fool at Brittany, Santana pulls her hand back, and returns her attention to her lunch, tempted to smack herself in the face with the sandwich. They're in public for fuck's sake. Hidden away at a corner table in a small café wedged between a CVS and an Olive Garden, but in public all the same.
They're nearly finished their lunch, and Santana knows this is probably the best time for her to tell Brittany they can't keep doing this. She knows she's being a coward, because if Brittany gets upset by it, she can just run back to the studio and hide in her office, avoiding Brittany for the rest of the day, but it's not like she's ever claimed to be a good person.
She sets the remaining bite or so of her sandwich down and clears her throat. "Brittany, I think we should talk."
Brittany stops mid-chew and looks up at her. "About the printer room? And last night?" Santana nods. "Yeah, Santana I-"
"It was a mistake." Santana blurts out, before cringing at how horrible she sounds. God she's such a bitch. "I don't know if you were expecting it to go anywhere, but it can't happen again Brittany. We need to just forget about it." Jesus, once she gets going on an offensive ramble she just can't stop herself.
Brittany stares at her in shock, before about ten thousand emotions flicker across her face, too fast for Santana to gauge how she's going to react, and then swallows her mouthful of food.
Her expression eventually settles on neutral, which yeah, really fucking helpful to Santana. She has no idea how Brittany is going to react.
"I agree with you."
Santana doesn't know why her entire body deflates with something that feels suspiciously like disappointment. She doesn't know why it feels like she's just been punched in the gut by Brittany's words. She doesn't know why she feels like a freight train has just slammed into her.
This is what she wants.
It basically sounds like Brittany is rejecting her, which is what Santana had the intent of this conversation as, but she doesn't know why she feels so… hurt at the rejection.
It's what she wants.
Brittany and her kissing was a mistake the first time, and a mistake the second time. Sure she might like Brittany, but she'll get over it. They're just feelings. People get them all the time. She'll get over it. She hopes.
"I think we just needed to get it out the way." Brittany continues. "Like, there was this weird tension between us, after we had that dance, so we just had to get it out of our systems." Santana chooses not to point out that if she made out with everyone there was a tension with, she'd probably have kissed just about everybody she's ever met.
"Besides, the second time we were just drunk." Brittany breaks eye contact, letting her gaze drop to her lap where she's folded her hands. "We can just forget it ever happened."
Brittany's right, they just need to forget it ever happened. They can just go back to being friends. Friends who also work together, Santana reminds herself.
It's what she wants. It's what she wants. It's what she wants. Santana repeats the four words over and over in her head, trying to drill the mantra into herself.
Santana finds her voice and drops her gaze to the remains of her sandwich, fiddling with the wrapping. "Yeah exactly, the first time was a mistake, then the second time we were just drunk, we can just forget it. I mean, it meant nothing anyway."
Santana glances up at Brittany just in time to see the shock on her face turn to hurt and something twists in her stomach. She immediately wants to take it back; because that's one of the biggest loads of crap she's ever said. Santana isn't exactly sure what the two kisses meant, but it sure as hell didn't mean nothing.
She's shot down a lot of girls, but she's never been affected by their hurt expressions until now. She feels like such a bitch.
"Yeah." Brittany eventually says, her expression shifting back to the neutral blank one, so Santana doesn't know what she's thinking. "It meant nothing." It sounds even worse being said back to her, but Santana tries to ignore that.
There's a slightly awkward silence for a few minutes while they just finish their food, before Brittany clears her throat.
"Do you think we can go back to being friends, Santana?" Brittany asks, hopefully. She tries to look happy, but even Santana can tell the smile is mostly forced.
"Yeah Britt, I'd like that." Santana ignores the voice at the back of her head shouting at her that she's an idiot, because she doesn't want to be just friends with Brittany. She doesn't know what she wants, but the idea of being just friends doesn't sit well with her. It's not like she wants Brittany to be her girlfriend or something. She wants to kiss her again, and being the hot blooded woman she is, of course she still wants to fuck Brittany. But she doesn't want to date her, or anything ridiculous like that. Fuck, she's so confused.
Thankfully, some of the awkwardness dissipates as Brittany smiles softly at Santana, and stands up. "I have to go meet Quinn at a studio in Brooklyn for a shoot with Sebastian, so I'll be gone for the rest of the day. But I'll see you on Monday?" Brittany smiles in the most adorable hopeful way, and something twinges in Santana's chest.
Ignoring it, she stands up and brushes the million crumbs off her lap. "Okay, well I'll see you on Monday then Britt. Have fun." There's a slightly awkward second, before Brittany giggles and rolls her eyes, and pulls Santana forward into a hug. Santana relaxes into Brittany's arms, wrapping her own around the blond's back. She tries to ignore how much she likes the feeling of their chests pressed together, and how much better it felt when certain other parts of their bodies were touching at the same time. This is not going to help with the whole being just friends thing.
They part, and Brittany smiles at Santana before picking up her paper cup of coffee and her bag, before turning to walk towards the café door. Santana waves at her through the window, and goes to pick her own coffee and bag up when she realizes she still has Brittany's hoodie.
Santana debates whether or not to put it on before deciding that friends wear other friends clothes, and it's fucking cold outside, and she's not getting frostbite in October. Pulling the hoodie on, she collects her stuff and exits the café.
/
Late on the following Sunday afternoon, Santana has just gotten back from a jog around Central Park and is in the living room, sprawled out across the entire sofa, in sweatpants and Brittany's hoodie, her laptop open in front of her. She's attaching a few files onto an email to send to Tina when the front door bangs open and Quinn comes storming in, Rachel right behind her.
"Quinn I'm sorry, but what was I supposed to do, he was right there!"
"Rachel you are completely missing the point!"
Santana tries to ignore their argument as they stand squabbling at the door, until Berry's shrill voice squeaking something about Quinn having no business sticking her nose into her personal life gets on her last nerve.
"Hey! I don't give a shit about whatever you're arguing about, but if you're going to continue your lover's quarrel, do it somewhere else! And shut the fucking door you morons, I'd prefer our neighbors to not think I run a home for insane dwarfs."
She peers over the top of the sofa and sees Rachel glare up at Quinn again, before storming out the door. She returns her attention to her laptop as she hears Quinn slam the door, before walking into the kitchen grumbling to herself.
"While you're there Q, get me a glass of wine would you?"
"Fuck off, Santana." Quinn snarls at her, before stomping off into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Jesus Christ, they're going to get a noise violation report if Quinn keeps slamming doors. Santana stares at the closed door, wondering what the hell happened. Clearly she and Rachel had some form of fight, so she decides to go straight to the source to find out what's going on. She picks up her phone and scrolls through until she finds who she's looking for, and presses call.
"Satan! To what do I owe the pleasure?" Kurt's cheerfully high voice answers after a few rings.
"Is Berry being more weird and moody than usual?"
There's a pause. "She didn't tell you?"
"Tell me what?" Santana grumpily replies. Why is she always out of the loop?
"Rachel and Finn broke up last night. I think it's actually for good this time." Kurt's voice rises at the end slightly. She can almost imagine the glee on his face when he realizes she doesn't have a clue what he's talking about. Gossip queen.
"What?" Santana screeches. "Why didn't anybody tell me?" She hasn't spoken to Rachel since yesterday morning, and Quinn had been mysteriously absent last night after she got home from the studio, and she had fallen asleep before her best friend had made it home from wherever she was. She'd had an exhausting week, okay?
Despite how much she insults and mocks Rachel, she does care about the hobbit. In her own special Lopez way.
"I assumed Quinn had told you, or Rachel told you herself. Why? Is Rachel there? I just got home and the apartment is suspiciously quiet."
"No Rachel just left. She and Quinn came thundering in here like a herd of fucking elephants arguing about something, Rachel fucked off and Quinn's sulking in her room. What happened with Berry and Jolly Green?"
"She didn't tell me the specifics. She probably thought my poor broken heart couldn't take it. But from what I gathered, Finn was being his usual oafish self, and probably went too far with something offensive he said. Quinn stayed here last night; I just left her to do the comforting."
Well that explains Quinn's mysterious absence last night. Santana was hoping she'd finally gotten laid and therefore might be less uptight.
Santana snorts. "How are you anyway, with the whole Blaine thing?" She's not a complete monster, she may as well make sure Kurt's not contemplating throwing himself off the roof of his building.
Kurt groans. "Oh God. He called me yesterday morning, when I was still naked in bed with a hot French model, may I add, begging me to forgive him."
Santana laughs. "What did you tell him?" There's another pause. "Kurt?"
"I may be meeting him tonight to give him a chance to explain." Kurt says nervously.
"What? Kurt! Why the fuck would you even consider giving that douche a second chance? He cheated on you, in case it'd somehow slipped your mind!"
"I know Santana, and I don't really expect you to understand, but I loved him, you can't just forget about somebody like that, especially someone who means so much to you. I never even gave him a chance to explain."
Santana ignores the flash of hurt she gets at Kurt so dismissively saying she could never understand love, and sits up, preparing to unleash a rant at her best gay. "What is there to explain? Why he fucked manwhore number one instead of manwhore number two? There's nothing for him to explain, Kurt, he cheated." She snaps down the phone, emphasizing the last two words. "There's no excuse for it, if he loved you, he wouldn't have slept with someone else! Cheaters are the lowest of the low Kurt, you cannot possibly consider taking him back."
"Santana I appreciate that your misguided views on my love life are coming from a place of caring, but with all due respect, this has nothing to do-"
Santana hangs up. If Kurt wants to go back to Blaine Cheaterson then that's his problem, not Santana's. Quickly sending her email to Tina, she drags herself off the safe haven of the sofa and considers how best to approach a pissed off Quinn.
Steeling herself for getting yelled at, and possibly having stuff thrown at her, she knocks on Quinn's door.
"Quinn?"
"Go away Santana."
Santana ignores her, and pushes the door open. The lights are off, but the light filtering from the hallway illuminates the lump of covers on the bed that she assumes is Quinn. She should be safe from any flying projectiles then.
"Go away, Santana." The lump on the bed shifts slightly, and Santana gingerly sits down on the edge of it, hoping she won't get kicked.
"Look, Quinn, obviously I have no idea what's going on, but you're in bed at like 7pm on a Sunday evening, and even you can't be that lame, so what's wrong?"
Quinn's muffled voice comes through the covers. "Why do you care?"
Santana rolls her eyes. After being nice to Kurt on Friday evening, she's going to have to do something particularly awful tomorrow to bring her bitch equilibrium back to normal. Although the look on Brittany's face when Santana lied through her teeth and said it meant nothing was probably terrible enough.
"Because you're my best friend Quinn. I'm the only one who's allowed to hurt your feelings. Besides, if this is something really bad, I don't want to have to put up with you crying and listening to Kelly Clarkson and Adele for the next week or few. I'm not sure I could handle that."
There's a huff from the end of the lump that Santana thinks is where Quinn's head is that sounds suspiciously like Quinn trying to stifle a laugh. The covers shift and Quinn's head pops up. "You're such a bitch."
"I love you too. Now, what's crawled up your ass?"
Quinn stares at her covers, playing with the edge of the pillowcase, and takes a while to answer. When she eventually speaks, it's definitely not what Santana is expecting.
"Did you really love Spencer?"
Santana jerks back, unable to stop the flash of hurt shooting through her. Old habits. She's slightly at a loss for what to say, but eventually settles on a hissed What? while narrowing her eyes at Quinn.
"Did you really love her? I just… How do you know if you're in love with someone? Given my track record with relationships…" She trails off, glancing up at Santana.
Santana resists the urge to smack her best friend in the face with the fluffy red pillow sitting next to her, and grits her teeth together.
"Yes, I really loved her, but if I'd known you wanted a trip the wrong way down Memory Lane, I would have left you to drown in your own tears, Fabray." She spits out.
Quinn doesn't even seem to notice how close Santana is to pummeling her with a pillow, and keeps talking. "I mean, I don't know if you're really the best person to ask considering what happened with you-"
Santana cuts her off. "If you continue that train of thought I will not hesitate to suffocate you while you're sleeping." She quickly changes the subject. "Why do you want to know how to tell when you're in love with someone anyway? Love is stupid."
Quinn raises an eyebrow at her.
"It is!" Santana continues. "It changes people, people you thought you knew turn into people you don't recognize. It's a waste of time, feelings, usually money, and somebody always gets hurt in the end. Look what happened to Kurt and Blaine, Finn and Rachel-"
Quinn flinches at the second ex-couple mentioned and Santana pauses, mid-dramatically ticking each couple off on her fingers. A certain mystery hickey from a few weeks ago suddenly pops into her mind, and she immediately starts trying to put the puzzle pieces together. All like, two of them.
"Why do you even want to know Quinn? Got a crush on somebody?"
Quinn takes about a second too long to give her answer, a withering look at Santana followed by a hell no, all the booze you drink finally start affecting your brain Lopez? But that's all Santana needs to realize Quinn's got a thing for somebody. She hopes like fuck it isn't Finnocence. After Quinn dating him freshman and sophomore year, and then Berry on-and-off with him since then, she's had enough of Finn fucking Hudson to last her a lifetime. Maybe it's Puck? Sam? Some dude she doesn't even know?
Santana decides to leave it, just like she did with the hickey. If it's really important, Quinn will eventually open up to her. Even if it is slurred round a second bottle of tequila. Pushing Quinn is not something Santana wants to do.
/
Later that night, when Santana is trying to sleep, Quinn's question rings through her head again.
How do you know if you're in love with someone?
Santana has no answer to that question, but she eventually falls asleep dreaming of blue eyes and blond hair.
/
How do you know if you're in love with someone?
Fuck Quinn, Santana thinks, as the question that has been plaguing her mind all fucking day echoes through her mind again.
She's sitting at her desk at 5.30pm on a Monday evening, thinking about fucking love. She's going to murder Quinn. Make her cook enough food to last Santana a while, then murder her.
How do you know if you're in love with someone?
She wants to scream at herself. She doesn't fucking know. She only thing close to being in love with someone she's felt was in high school, with Spencer fucking Dawson. And that was a love tainted by Santana's fears, and Spencer's lies.
"And look how that turned out." Santana snorts out loud to herself, and her empty office.
She might have loved Spencer, but having had years to reflect, she doesn't know if she was ever in love with her. Having your girlfriend, the person you thought you loved, and could trust no matter what, out you to the entire school, certainly makes you think if the feelings were ever real.
Santana hears a familiar laugh echo down the hallway outside, and groans, letting her head fall into her hands.
When Quinn had asked that fucking question, Santana's mind may or may not have jumped straight to Brittany.
She's so confused.
She's so afraid, as well, if she's being honest. Terrified, actually.
She tries to ignore the fear gripping her chest, and sinking into her bones, and for the first time, Santana allows herself to truly acknowledge her feelings. The feelings she's pretty sure started the moment she so gracefully walked straight into Brittany two months ago at Starbucks.
Santana doesn't believe in love at first sight, or soulmates, or any of that romantic bullshit, but she does believe in love. Before her Abuelo died, her Abuela and he convinced her of that fact.
She believes in love, but that doesn't stop her from being scared shitless at the fact she might be feeling it again. She loved Spencer, and look where that got her. Broken hearted, and closed off from the world, with walls so fucking high only a particularly persistent blond seems to be able to get past them.
She's fucking terrified that she's going to fall completely in love with Brittany – like Brittany's giving her a choice, being so fucking perfect and all – and Brittany's not going to love her back. That Brittany's going to have her heart, but Santana won't have Brittany's. That she's going to completely lose herself, lose sight of who she is, if she falls in love with Brittany.
She's fucking terrified that if Brittany does fall in love with her, she then realizes what an awful person Santana really is. She doesn't think she could handle having her fragile heart broken a second time.
Love changes people. It changes everything about them, the way they act, the way they think. Sure, sometimes it changes people for the better, but Santana is too cynical to think that could ever happen to her.
But despite the lies Santana told Brittany on Saturday at that cozy little sandwich shop, she is certain of how she feels about the blond. And it scares the absolute shit out of her.
That maybe, just maybe... She's falling in love with Brittany.
And there's nothing she can do to stop it.