Author's Note: So this one is just short and sweet. It's February in this world, but I didn't want to do the typical mushy Valentine's Day crap because 1) I hate it and 2) this is Puckleberry. Come on. :)

So, this is what happened. Enjoy (and then tell me about it!).

Month 11

The curtain blocking off Rachel and Noah's room waved in movement, catching Rachel's gaze in her periphery. Not a second later, Santana stalked into the room, making no comment about Rachel and Noah's current position - they were covered, but clearly wrapped up in one another. Santana never shied away from showing her disgust with their intimacy, usually covering her eyes in jest if she didn't have a particularly biting remark to share. This morning, though, she just stood there, worrying her bottom lip and wringing her hands in front of herself.

"I did a bad thing."

"I thought you were staying in Ohio for the week?" Rachel asked, mostly because she didn't want to jump to any conclusions. Santana saying something like that could be any number of things, ranging so greatly in severity that it was frightening. Instead, Rachel wanted to focus on why the Latina was back four days early from a trip that had seemed so important to her. She'd been missing Brittany and wanted to surprise the blonde for Valentine's Day. The holiday had only been over for less than 12 hours, though, so something clearly had gone bad.

"In my defense, I was …" Santana stopped, sighing in defeat, "a little drunk."

"What happened?" Noah asked impatiently, refusing to move from his reclined position in the bed in clear hopes that he and Rachel could continue celebrating their love (her words, obviously) as they'd started last night.

"I slept with Finn," Santana blurted out.

Rachel's mouth fell open, snapping closed when the Latina visibly tensed. She peeked at Noah from the corner of her eye, but his shock had already worn off to wild amusement. "Wh-what about his girlfriend?"

"They broke up," she defended quickly, as if she wanted it on the record that she wasn't a slut. "Last month, I guess."

To say she was surprised was an understatement. Her and Finn's friendship had been tested many times in the past year, but they were working on it. They were growing up together, but apart, and after December Rachel really thought things were back to being as close to normal as they'd been before things had happened with Noah. Santana's confession, though, spoke volumes; why wouldn't he tell her about his break up?

"Do you like him?" She asked instead, knowing Santana wouldn't have an answer to the lingering question. Plus, based on the Latina's anxiety level, Rachel knew better than to focus on anything other than dealing with the problem at hand. Granted, she wasn't quite sure if the problem was that Santana felt like it was bad to sleep with Finn because of the Finchel history or because of the Finntana history.

"No!" Santana all but shouted, adding a slight laugh to the end. "He's Finn. He's like, such an idiot and knows shit about girls and like, so childlike that it is annoying, mostly because he's so damn tall and … just … solid that it doesn't fit and …"

"I thought you were into chicks?" Noah asked, maybe just to protect Rachel who was smiling so wide at Santana's rambling that the latter had actually growled in frustration.

"You might want to consider being less of an asshole when I'm guessin' that sheet is the only thing between me and rippin' your favorite body part off."

"My favorite body part ain't on my body, thankyouverymuch," he stated smugly.

"Oh, fuck!" Santana exclaimed, ignoring him to focus on the ringing phone in her clenched hands. "It's Finn."

"Just answer it," Rachel advised, her wide smile dwindling to a soft one in hopes of not scaring the poor girl. "It doesn't have to be a big deal. But," she turned to Noah, her voice softening as she finished, "you'll be surprised what can happen when you let your guard down and admit your feelings for someone you once thought was the completely opposite of yourself."

"Oh, barf!" Santana said as Noah and Rachel embraced. She stomped out of the room, flinging the still-ringing phone to the opposite side of the loft while heading toward her own room. She clearly wouldn't be able to hide from her feelings forever, but she could stay hidden in her room for as long as she felt like it.