Hey, well I'm back again! To be honest… I'm going back home for summer which will mean a tad more time for writing since I'm not drowning in work or anything like that! :)

A little filler of a chapter… some big drama to come, in the next 4 or 5 chapters and then it'll really pick up the pace.

Disclaimer: Still don't own Glee, and more than likely never will…

Oh, and the song that Cataya sang in the previous chapter was Stupid Hoe by the amazing Nicki Minaj… look forward to some more Nicki throughout this year at McKinley! ;)

Blaine Anderson.

Literally on my way home I had to stop myself clicking my heels every other step. The glee club is shaping up. Admittedly we're probably not ready to go up against the likes of the Warblers and Vocal Adrenaline, but at least we have the 12 members needed to actually compete. Then, the cherry on top of the sundae was when that awful Amelia girl was put into place by the newest glee clubber. Cataya is definitely a fine addition to the New Directions. Not only did she put the likes of Mercedes and Santana to shame in terms of her sass and no nonsense attitude, she also has some kind of what Kurt would call an aura about her, an aura that screams 'Do not mess with me, or else I will cause grievous bodily harm.' And however emasculating it sounds: I think I'll feel a little safer walking the halls of McKinley High knowing that the fierce black girl has got my back. Yes, this girl is scary and I have no doubt that she could quite literally break me in half but I have an inkling that what we've seen may only be one side to a girl that is a multi faceted diamond. A diamond in the rough as of now, but a diamond is a diamond however you decide to look at it.

So yes, today has been a good day and seeing as I'll be talking to Kurt soon it can only get better. I walk into my house and I'm hit by the aroma of cookies which is coming from the kitchen so once I've thrown my satchel onto the sofa I head off to the kitchen. As expected she is fluttering around the kitchen: Covered head to toe in flour she looks like Casper, wearing an oven mitt and her glasses perched atop her head. Ladies and gentleman, my mother. Muttering to herself and gesturing to thin air, I think it is safe to say that any eccentricities of mine are directly inherited from the 5'1'' Filipino woman before me. Beneath the flour there is my mother's bird nest of dark brown hair, which I inherited and is the reason for my unhealthy attachment to hair gel. The little sequence of her fluttering around our recently refurbished kitchen for at least five minutes before her emerald coloured eyes find me leaning against the doorframe, she simply stares at me for a few moments before jumping about a foot in the air and throwing her hand against her chest. By the petrified expression on her face you'd think she found a mass murderer waltzing through the house and not her youngest son. She purses her lips before bustling over and giving me a light tap on my arm.

"Blaine Anderson, do not sneak up on me again. I could have had a heart attack or worse, I could have thrown a knife or something. Then not only would you die, but the devastation of losing my baby would likely drive me to suicide. You potentially just killed two people." I hide the smirk from my face, and nod my head along with her ridiculous lecture. I appear the image of repentance because I am wise enough to not try and mock my mother despite her tendency to exaggerate and get worked up over nothing. My mom appears to be the quirky yet harmless Filipino woman who is always doing something trivial like baking or knitting but that little façade can shatter at the drop of a hat. If pushed Mom can turn into a lioness with a wrath that would make Satan himself, or herself in Santana's case, shrink in fear. The Anderson woman wrath is not something to be underestimated, ask Coop. One day he decided to call Mom 'stupid' and well he couldn't sit down for a week. But I can tell that any annoyance Mom had has vanished as she gives me a quick hug.

"Sorry Mom, I was here for five minutes but you were distracted. I won't do it again." Okay, Kurt thinks it is incredibly funny that his 'Alpha Gay' is actually a Mommy's boy but everybody wants to make their Mom happy. I grin as Mom bounces back to shower me with kisses and mumble about 'her baby.' However silly it seems, I live for these moments when I am just a Mummy's boy and everything else just disappears. It makes my hectic life seem just so much more normal. I walk into the kitchen and head towards the cookies I see sitting on the cooling rack but as I reach for them Mom's hand appears from nowhere and slaps mine away from the crumbly cookie goodness. Despite the fact she is 44 years of age I sometimes swear that Mom is either a ninja or an agent for the secret services since she has an annoying knack of appearing from nowhere. I turn to give her the 'Puppy Dog Eyes' that never fail on Kurt, but over the last 17 years my Mom has become well and truly desensitized to my charm. I just huff and storm off.

"Stop being a baby Blaine, even if you're my baby you don't need to act like it. These cookies are for the next Mother of Gay Teens meeting later this evening. So hands off." I sigh, not only am I being deprived of a cookie but Mom is still going to those meetings. I mean it's great that Mom at least is embracing my sexuality, but I think she is taking it a bit too far when she does the grocery shopping in a tee shirt that reads 'I LOVE MY GAY SON' or goes to PTA meetings in one that reads 'Some People Are Gay… Get over it!' But I suppose Mom will always be Mom, strange qualities included. Mom looks at me, frowning and I know it is because of my reaction to the little club she started 2 years ago once I'd come out. She quickly grabs a cookie and shoves it into my hand with a quick wink and a small smile. I jump up to give her a quick kiss on the cheek and she rubs her hand through my hair.

"Mooooooooom…." I know it's whiny but really, she knows that playing with my hair annoys me. Especially when it took about 20 minutes to style this morning. I jump back with my face arranged into an expression of mock outrage. Mom just laughs and rolls her eyes at what she would call my 'childish antics' before heading over to the cupboards. Ever since we had the new kitchen fitted, Mom has had trouble finding anything. If I were feeling particularly brave I might have said something about her scatter brained tendencies actually being signs of early onset senile dementia, but I would rather not face the terrifying wrath of Georgia Anderson today. Mom turns and looks at me with her eyebrows knitted together.

"Blaine, haven't you got homework or something to do. Not that I want rid of you or anything but I've got to cook dinner and do everything else required of a domestic goddess before the meeting. Even though I love you, you got to move now because Mommy is busy and doesn't need her baby getting under her feet." I roll my eyes; I should be irked that my Mom still talks to me like a 10 year old but no matter what I say she won't change. Maybe it is something about women trying to prolong their children's youth in some psychological defence against the midlife crisis or something along those lines. I shake my head as I realise that is something Kurt would say and smile to myself. A companionable silence fills the air as Mom starts to throw random ingredients into a mixing bowl, I think of something to say.

"Where's Dad? I thought he would be back by now?" Mom continues on her way and glances up at the clock; 5pm. She turns to me and shrugs her shoulders but I know that she knows exactly where he is. I am curious as to where he is. I feel a clenching in my stomach. Usually when Kaden Anderson is late from work the reason is that he has some elaborate 'Father/Son bonding time' scheme. Yes, even though I am openly gay, my father still tries to connect with me but I can see that it is difficult for him. Whereas Mom has decided to dedicate her time to somehow aiding the plight of the gay community, Dad just cannot understand my sexuality. He tries to look beyond it but I could see the disappointment in his eyes when I said I only enjoyed Football from the perspective of a spectator; the same disappointment was in his eyes when I was unable to summon the enthusiasm when he enlisted my help in rebuilding an old car during one summer. My dad loves me: I know that, he knows that, Mom knows that and Coop knows that. He just struggles in ways of showing me that love that don't derive from the conventional father/son relationship. Well on that depressing note, I do actually have some homework to do so I drag myself from the chair. As I pass my Mom she gives me a quick peck on the cheek and I give her a small grin. I go to grab my bags before heading off to battle against the pile of homework, which seems to have accumulated over such a short period.

Once I get to my room, I travel over to my corkboard. It is full of pictures, mainly of myself and Kurt: Junior Prom, Senior Prom, Nationals; but rather than bringing me out of my current 'funk' it seems to make everything so much worse. He's only been gone a matter of weeks, but when I'm alone like this I'm as fragile as glass. I feel weak, as if the slightest proverbial breeze could shatter me and despite Erin's reservations, reservations that I genuinely do respect, without Kurt I feel as if I'm slowly falling apart, piece by piece, and until I can hold my beautiful boy in my arms again I do not think I'll be whole again. Shit, if Kurt could see me now he would go ballistic. He'd roll his blue eyes, fold his arms and give me that look of his that says 'Really Blaine?' I mean, I've got Erin and she is quickly becoming my best friend. And it will only be a matter of time before I've got both Kurt and Erin. I manage a small smile to myself, even though I'm in a 'funk' that not even Roxy music can pull me from. I can still see that I'm one of the luckiest people in the world, a man I love with my whole heart and a friend that I love despite her sarcastic tendencies and quirky attitude. My phone starts to ring, and I pull it up expecting it to be Erin with a whole new idea of annihilating Amelia. She was actually considering shaving the girls head, which is very extreme in my opinion but I didn't try and dissuade her because it would just earn me a quick jab in the ribs. But it's not Erin and I feel my heart flutter and all vestiges of my 'funk' evaporate as I fumble with the phone before quite literally ramming it to my ear.

"Kurt…"

Santana Lopez

I fumble with the keys, letting myself into our apartment building and I groan when I see the flight of stairs before me. They seem to go on forever and in all honesty I could literally collapse on the floor right now from utter exhaustion. I swear if I could go back in time when my 16 year old self used to moan about Coach Sue's Cheerio practices and how they were killing me, I would go all Lima Heights on my ass. If I thought that was hard I need a good slap from my friend reality, what's hard is being an 18 year old sharing a flat with Lady Hummel and Man Hands while juggling a waitressing job, night classes and regular gigs at 'Smokey Joe's' jazz bar. All of this while having to use the damned subway. Shit, I'm starting to sound like Coach. What the hell? I am Santana m-er effing Lopez, I am one hot Latina bitch and no one else can say nothing about it. I've got the Latina fire that has made every girl and guy look at me since I hit puberty so why in hell am I whinging about my life like some old hag confined to Lima Residential Home? With my recognition of who I actually am fresh in my mind, I square my shoulders and strut up the stairs like I own them. Cause bitches, the name is Santana Lopez and even if I'm not owning the halls of McKinley high, I am still the HBIC, the whole state boundary thing doesn't mean a thing. Gets me?

I let myself into the flat, expecting the rare bliss that is silence in the city that never sleeps seeing as Berry is off doing Advanced Wailing 101 or whatever class she has right about now at that bloody NYADA place she never shuts up about. But no, even if I've been working my hot mess of an ass off all day I don't deserve that bliss do I? No, I don't. What I get is Kurt's girlish giggling and simpering which I know means he's on the phone to his lover boy and I can expect this genuine display of homoerotic bliss for what could be hours. Yay me, I really should have just collapsed at the foot of those stairs after all. Now I'm not going to lie. However annoying it can be to share a flat with Musical Theatre's version of Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie I genuinely enjoy living with them. Kurt cooks, Rachel cleans, I do other stuff and threaten any stranger who comes to the door and really I've changed quite a bit. The trouble twins decided to serenade me with Wicked's 'For Good', and yes it was nice and I smiled and we're all living happily ever after while riding unicorns into the cotton candy sunset.

But at times like this, when Kurt is being all lovey dovey or Rachel is crying over that picture of Finn again, the old urges to punch them in the face return and I have to stop myself going all Lima Heights on their asses. No Santana, violence is not and never will be the answer. You will not, repeat will not, punch Lady Hummel in the face. You will run a bath, eat chocolate and pass out in bed. I let out a sigh of relief, now that sounds like bliss but something is missing. ¿Mierda, Santana ha perdido realmente todas las células del cerebro? ¿Cómo pude olvidar mi Brittany? I need to phone Britt, my little blonde angel probably thinks I've been abducted by aliens or attacked by rampaging buffaloes. Once I'm out the bath I'll definitely phone her, it's been a few days. It might not seem long but Santana has an itch, an itch that only Miss Brittany S Pierce can scratch. Even if it's over a phone, and with that not too innocent thought on the forefront of my mind I feel a smirk slide onto my full lips and right now all my problems have gone out of the window. I feel as if good old auntie Snix has come through down on the Reality Express and slapped me into this century.

"...Yes Erin should be keeping an eye on the criminal chipmunk, he's already tried blinding you. I honestly wouldn't be surprised if the deranged sociopath tried to castrate you or something next. And yes, I'm still safe and I will continue being safe with Santana around..." I roll my eyes, Kurt and everyone else seems to think that I'm some indestructible force of nature and I am fierce, fem and phenomenal. But it's good to know that even though I feel as if I'm drowning, everyone still knows that I am the biggest and the most bad ass bitch. No questions asked. I wave my hand at Kurt but he is too engrossed in his homo bubble with Blaine.

"...That Amelia girl sounds like Sebastian with a vagina which is the scariest thought I think I've ever had, I bet she'll cause trouble. Make sure to keep an eye on her... Well, with her throwing 'promises' around like that I think I'm entitled to be a little concerned about your safety..." Say what? Who is this Amelia girl going around threatening people, first of all that is Santana territory. I mean the words 'S.L = HBIC' are carved into the bleachers by my own hand and just because I'm in another state, that territory is still mine. If I find out that this second rate wannabe has laid a finger, or even breathed too deeply around my Britt I will have no problems in rearranging her face. I'm standing listening to the homo love fest, just in case they say something which is actually important rather than sickening.

"...Well I suppose you're right. That Cataya girl does sound like she has enough attitude to keep whatever 'promises' that heinous girl made at bay...Yes Santana the Second does sound interesting...Yes, I do... I love you too..." I think I can feel my eyebrows somewhere near my hairline, what the hell has been happening back at McKinley? A 'second Santana'? I doubt that very much, I am the one and only Santana Lopez. I clear my throat and Kurt springs up from the sofa to look at me, blushing like crazy when he hears I've heard his sloppy declarations of love. I smirk at his reaction.

"Oh Blaine, I'm OK Santana has just gotten in... Santana, Blaine says hey..." Haha, Lady Hummel is no longer cooing like a love sick puppy and the desire to fall to my knees and sing a quick chorus of hallelujah is almost overwhelming but I manage to maintain some semblance of composure. I just laugh, well they think that there are two bitches running around Lima thinking that they are the second coming. Hell, I am Santana Lopez not the Messiah and I think I need to show everybody that there is and only ever will be one of me. I hold my hand out and Kurt looks as confused as Brittany in the Natural History Museum, he simply points at the phone while his jaw is swinging somewhere near the floor. I nod and when I realise he isn't going to be handing his phone over anytime soon, I snatch it from his hand and dance over to the far side of the room and while he tries to catch me I press the phone against my ear.

"Kurt? What's happening?...Kurt, answer me...Please...Kurt?" I have to swallow the sarcastic laughter that is trying to escape, this is actually like some crazy homo explosion. The pleading makes me sick, this boy needs to get a back bone. Seriously, what does he think has happened? That I come home and bludgeoned Kurt to death? Once upon a time that may have been the case but I don't think I could actually hurt Lady Hummel if I tried.

"Oh Mr. Anderson. Ye of little faith, it's just Auntie Tana. Lady Hummel is perfectly safe. Would I let anybody hurt him? Actually, you can check for yourself pretty soon..." I shut up as I hear the inhalation of breath, the young Burt Reynolds seems to realise what I'm hinting at. Or maybe he is just scared that I'm about to go all Lima Heights and kill his beloved. I giggle.

"Santana, what are you getting at? If you're not going to tell me I'd rather you just give Kurt the phone back. But I assure you that it has been a pleasure as always..." I giggle; oh some people just don't understand how these things work. You don't try and order Santana Lopez around, unless you're asking for me to go all Lima Heights on your ass but I'll let it slip this once. See, I really am a changed girl. Kurt is just wide eyes and watching everything unfold, looking as confused as ever. Someone should warn him that if the wind blows his face will stick like that and there really is only so much damage that Botox can repair.

"Oh, you're so hot when you're giving the orders. But I'll let you be. Now, the thing is that Auntie Snix, Lady Hummel and more than likely Man Hands will be popping in to see you sooner than you think. Now, don't tell Britt, I want it to be a surprise. Bye." I hang up on the boy as he begins to say something and turn to Kurt, wearing his 'stern' face with his pink lips pouted like a girl and his sparkling blue eyes narrowed as his eyebrow appears to trying to mate with his hairline. I just shrug my shoulders and turn to leave the room.

"And when exactly did y we decide that we're going back to Ohio? Because I sure as hell missed the memo." Right now Kurt is the epitome of homo-rage with his arms thrown wide and I just fold my arms. Shouldn't he be thanking me? I mean he hasn't shut up since we got to New York about how much he wanted to go home and see his 'Blainey Baby'. Yes, the nickname makes me feel sick too but those are the words from Lady Hummel's very own pretty little mouth, I just grin at him as I see his cheeks becoming tinged with pink.

"Kurt, don't whine. We're only gonna go back for a few days. I wants to see my Brittany, and I know that you wants to see your Blaine. So don't get all up in Auntie Tana's grill, cause she will more than likely go all Lima Heights on your ass. So, I'm gonna go for a bath and then talk to Brittany and you're gonna phone Man Hands and tell her the plan. When the hobbit girl gets home, we'll book our tickets and by next week we'll be back in Lima. You gets me?" I walk out of the room. On one hand I'm looking forward to seeing my Brittany, and having some of her sweet lady kisses. But on the other hand, Snix's hand more precisely, I'm more than ready to show these wannabe Lopez bitches what it means to be a real HBIC. Lima, Ohio be warned... Hurricane Santana is on her way and she will more than likely leave a trail of destruction in her wake.

A bit on the short side I know, and we didn't get any Brittany but we'll have some New Directions action in the next chapter and maybe a 'Sue's Corner'...

Sorry for the longish wait on this chapter, they'll be coming quicker over the summer though ;)

As for the Beta'ing it is and always will be the work of the marvellous GleekMom... :D

Now, my Spanish is a bit crappy since it was never my best subject but it loosely translates to : Santana, have you got shit for brains or no brain cells? How could I forget my Brittany?

So as always, REVIEW and let me know your thoughts...any songs you'd like to see! Anything...