AN: Hey! I told you my internet was going to be down (I thought until January) but turns out, its up again! Ok, so, warning; the next few chapters are going to be kind of short, but I promise there's a long one coming up soon! Enjoy! :)
Brittany woke with the feeling like two thumbs were jamming into her temples- hard. Her head was foggy and her mouth was dry.
Hungover. Right. Her first hangover.
Grumbling, she reached over when what had woken her up finally computed; her phone on her bedside table vibrating insistently. Wiping sleep from her eyes, she pressed the answer button and held the phone to her ear;
"Hello?" She asked groggily, all the while being cautious not to wake the sleeping body next to her. Santana; she didn't remember exactly how Santana got here, but didn't inquire about it, due to the fact that they were both fully clothed she figured nothing happened.
"Britt? You sound tired?" Sam said with an unusual amount of suspicion in his voice. Rubbing her sandpaper tongue over her lips, she thought over a response carefully;
"Yeah..." She tried to chuckle naturally, "I uh... I over did it last night; reading. You know how I get if I stay up too late."
"...Right." He answered gruffly. Brittany paid no notice.
"So, why are you calling?" She felt like throwing up, but pushed past the feeling.
"I was just on Facebook, and I saw a photo of Finn's party last night- and I thought I saw you in it... But I wasn't sure..."
He knows!
Panicked, she made an effort to stay calm and act nonchalant; "What? Sam what would I be doing at a part-"
"Who the hell is that?" Santana muttered angrily, giving her phone a death glare through her sleep- messed hair.
"Who's that?" Sam echoed Santana's question. Angry, she shot a look at Santana,
"No one." She nudged the girl in the ribs.
"Brittany, I heard someone."
"Sam, there's no one here," She insisted. Santana snorted, and she pressed on, "You must have heard the TV."
"Do I still sound like a TV, Trouty Mouth?" The Latina called obnoxiously, causing her to get a kick in the shins.
"Brittany, is Santana at your house?"
"No, no," She didn't even know why she was lying!
"Yes." She corrected.
"You were partying weren't you! What the hell, Brittany? You're not supposed to be partying with jocks and cheerleaders- let alone Santana! What the hell, and you didn't even tell us?"
"I didn't tell you because exactly this would happen." She grumbled, moving the phone a little bit farther away from her ear because Sam's sudden yelling wasn't helping her headache.
"Why?" Sam asked, "Why'd you go out and party?"
"Because it was Santana's form of an apology for being a dick."
"Vagina, actually," Santana butt in.
"For being a vagina." She rephrased.
"You could've said no. And you still could have told us- we would've come with and held your hair or something!" The boy said stubbornly.
"I tried saying no, and I knew I'd get a lecture very much like this one if I told you- and then you guys would have chained me to my house." She cast a sideward glance at Santana whom was currently rolling her eyes making the 'yap yap yap!' sign with her hand.
Another irritated nudge.
"But-" Sam started, Brittany cut over him, "Trust me Sam- I don't have any future plans for partying again," Santana's eyes widened in curiosity, "I don't really enjoy the feeling of my blood drowning in alcohol. At least not the feeling the next morning, that's for sure."
"You certainly liked it last night," Santana sighed in that 'I've got a secret' tone, sitting up.
Something that seemed physical struck her in the stomach and she swore she felt herself pale, "What?" She asked.
"What?" Sam echoed.
"What- what did I do?" She prodded Santana for answers, "C'mon," She begged, "You can't just say something like that and then keep your mouth shut- you got me all worried. What happened?"
The Latina smirked, "Nothing."
"Nothing?" Brittany deadpanned.
"Nothing- nevermind." Santana rolled over.
"Got to go, Sam," She didn't wait for a response as she clicked the 'end' button, and then fumbled around for her glasses.
"You lost them somewhere at Hudson's," Santana lazily propped herself up on one arm, evidently knowing what she was searching for.
"My glasses?" She made sure she and Santana were on the same page.
"No, your balls- what the fuck do you think?" The girl stated with heavy sarcasm dripping from her voice.
"Shit!" Brittany muttered; this meant she'd have to find an old pair or stick some contacts in her eyes until she could buy a new pair her prescription.
"D'awww, is little Bi-Pierce gonna be as blind as a bat until she can get a new pair?"
"Yes, I am!" She gave Santana a push once again in frustration, "Anyways- seriously, did something happen when I was drunk? How drunk did I get? I feel like crap."
"You were pretty wasted. We found out you're a stripper drunk! Exciting, isn't it?"
"Stripper drunk? Holy shit - was I naked?"
"Not quite. Auntie Sanny kept little baby Bi-Pierce out of harm, like I promised."
She did remember that promise.
"Is that all that happened?"
Santana twisted her lips in thought.
"I think so."
"You think so?"
"Well, to be honest I lost you a couple times."
She nudged Santana- for the fifth time, "Santana!" She half whined half scolded.
"What? There was a lot of people there!"
"What if Puckerman felt me up or something- you know he's a pig!"
"A pig that's my fuck-buddy, thank you very much." Santana grumbled, but then continued with that 'on the bright side' tone to her voice while Brittany grimaced in disgust at the mental image, "At least I can guarantee it would have been over the bra, because at no point in time were you completely topless, or pantsless."
"Oh, so reassuring." Now she just felt like giving Santana a hard time, although she was almost entirely convinced by Santana. Almost.
"Would you like me to make you throw up? Being experienced in the hangover world, I know small things can set you off; and I think my morning breath may be the thing that can- so shut up and admit the fact that last night was the night of your life." Santana said flatly as she quirked an eyebrow in expectation.
"I don't even remember half of last night, honestly." Brittany admitted.
Laughing, Santana replied, "That's how you know you had fun!"
She bit her lip; part of her was happy about how she had seemed to have had fun. But another part, perhaps a larger part, was stagnant about the actuality that she couldn't remember anything that happened; and if she had been as wasted as Santana said- and surely Santana hadn't been very sober either- Brittany felt directionless about what could have happened at that party. She'd heard the rumors about things that did and could happen...
Half frantic, with a sick feeling in her stomach she searched and clawed at her memory to recall things that happened; she remembered playing pool... and... and she remembered taking a shot with Finn... and she remembered seeing Mike Chang and Matt Rutherford during a fist fight in the backyard.
But that's all she could recall.
"Did anything memorable even happen? Something really funny... or really crazy?" She asked Santana as she stared at the ceiling, trying to keep her stomach under control as it did flips.
"Not that I can recall, Bi-Pierce. Why?"
"Just wanted to hear..."
Fifteen minutes later, Brittany had to bolt from the comfort of her bed to puke in the toilet eveything that she had eaten or drank last night. Once she had finished hurling, and Santana had quit laughing at her expense, the two drug themselves downstairs to find it deserted for some water.
"Here you go," She groaned, still feeling sick as she handed the other girl one of the tall glasses.
"Ugh, is there any way to get over this quicker?" She mumbled as she sipped her glass, Santana giggled and rolled her eyes, "Tylenol, water, and a semi-permanent position near the toilet."
"Your only advice?"
"Yup."
She took Santana's advice to heart; the girl left not long after that, and Brittany migrated up to her room- not before filling a a one litre jug full of ice and water so she could continue to pour herself a glass of water without having to return downstairs. It also felt like she spent a great deal of her day beside the toilet, vomiting up anything that could be vomited up.
There was even a point where Sam texted her again; asking if she needed anything, she thanked him- but told him no (not before pledging a solitary guaranteed position of designated driver from now on).
Her mom didn't suspect a thing, surprisingly! Brittany thought her mom would be all over her, like white on rice- but nope. Even Joel was leaving her alone.
As she lay in bed, watching The Help for about the millionth time, something came back to her, and she couldn't help but smile at the memory; when Puck began to hit on Santana, and she told him to screw off and find another girls leg to hump. He wasn't seen the rest of the night.
Maybe Santana did keep her promise, even if she did lose her a couple times.
