Author's Note : Dobry Hall, School for Girls exists in Daltonverse, which is created by CP Coulter. I do not own it. Nor do I own Glee, as it would be very different if I did. Very different. Um, I don't own Lucy Anderson or Mika I already forgot her last name, those are both CP Coulter's characters. Maria Von Blaken, Cassie Elizabeth Teller, and Desarae Gonzales are my characters. If you reviewed I would love you forever, especially if you have something you think I should change or something you want to happen, I'm always open for new ideas. Uhh that's all! Enjoyy love.

I'm in the process of making a tumblr to put all the playby's and stuff onn. And organize who's who and stuff. Cause I'm having troble keeping up with it all..lawdy. Reviews still get you oreos! 3

The walk to Breadstix didn't seem to take long at all, even though contrary to what Maria had said, the journey took more like twenty minutes than ten. The time passed quickly though, the two of them falling easily into step with each other in more ways than one, laughing and talking and trying to top each other with both dance and cheerleading moves.

Santana knew, deep inside, that it was so easy to talk to Maria because she was substituting her for Britt. Of course, it wasn't like Maria was Lebanese or anything so it really didn't matter, she kept telling herself. But despite a reflex several times, she didn't link pinkies with the tall girl. It felt, just..wrong.

Then it hit her, just about as they were going through the doors into the restaurant, and she remembered what Quinn said. God, she was an idiot. Maybe she was lying though. Quinn had a reputation for lying about who she'd slept with. Maybe Quinn was testing her and Britt's relationship. Maybe..

Despite her whirling mind, the latina was unable to stop the tears that prickled painfully in her dark eyes. Quickly, to avoid messing up her tediously applied makeup, she used her index finger to wipe the tear away from her face, trying to disguise the gesture by using the same sweep of her hand to flip her hair.

While no one in the restaurant even looked twice, Maria was not so easily thrown off. As they followed the smiling waitress over to a booth, Santana felt warm, long fingers intertwining with her own and a very, very small smile showed on her face. Once they arrived at the table, the two girls exchanged a larger smile before separating, sitting in opposite booths.

"So," said Santana, smirking at Maria. "Wanna know something funny?" she said, as the waitress returned with a coke for her and a sparkling water for Maria. Her mouth found the straw easily, with no making out with the air for once, something she thanked the evil god of Lima heights for quickly, as all good girls do.

"What?" said Maria, who was the kind of person that would hold the straw and carefully take a sip as to avoid the awkward moment of searching Santana was so relieved to have avoided.

"I totally know Charlie's sister." Said Santana, her head bobbing slightly to the right along with her right eyebrow, which clearly wanted in on the fun and raised in the middle in amusement.

"No way," said Maria, her own eyebrows raising so high Santana was sort of worried for her scalp.

"Way. But like, get this," said Santana, leaning towards Maria conspiratorially, as the red head did the same. "Quinn doesn't know about Charlie!"

"Wait," said Maria. She thought for a second, then spoke again, her voice slightly quieter. "Quinn, like, that you told me about?"

Santana did not wince. For that, she was most proud of herself (for the second time that night) but she could feel a tiny piece of her heart fall off and explode somewhere near the bottom of her rib cage. "Yeah. That Quinn. Her dad apparently had like eight hundred affairs before her mom finally found out, and they're..half sisters," she said, raising her eyebrow high.

"No way," mumbled Maria. There was an awkward moment of silence for the first time that night when finally both collapsed into giggles—at exactly the same time, which of course only made them giggle more. The rest of what Santana would frequently think of as the 'first good night of her dobry career' passed, well. Perfectly.

The real trouble came in the morning.