A/N: Thanks for all the encouragement & reviews, guys. I really do appreciate it! :]

I also.. really appreciate the death threats I keep getting? If this fic doesn't end in Quinntana. You guys are hilarious, but also psychotic, k? Now I know what Ryan Murphy must feel like some days.

And, I'm glad that SOMEONE likes the way I write Brittany. XD God. I never could believe that so many people don't like her.

Chapter 21

The first thing I noticed the next day was that I was completely naked. I'm not one to sleep in the nude, so I woke up feeling a little alarmed. The second thing I noticed was that Quinn and I were tangled together like a pair of cats, limbs intertwined, facing each other.

I was surprised that I woke up before she did, since that pretty much never happened. Looking at her now, I noticed that she seemed almost like an entirely different person while she slept. Her face was soft and relaxed, and it made her seem younger somehow, more vulnerable and open. It made me smile briefly.

I tried not to think about the things that had happened the night before.. something about it still made my chest burn with emotions that I couldn't begin to understand or express. I knew I was in trouble with Quinn. This thing between us had gone a lot deeper than I had ever intended. I wondered if she felt the same way.

But of course, there was no way for me to figure that out, since I couldn't imagine having that conversation with her. Hey, Quinn, so you feelin' like you might be in love with me at all? Even a tiny bit? God, no. The mortification and discomfort from just imagining it made me feel itchy and anxious, like I needed to get away from her and clear my head.

While I laid there, staring at her in the dim room, I decided to be completely honest with myself. Was I falling in love with Quinn Fabray? That question felt strange and otherworldly to ask. But the answer was even more opaque and hard to discern. I shook my head gently against the pillow, blinking hard. Mostly because I was afraid of the immediate answer that my popped into my head. I didn't want to think about it.

Screw being completely honest with myself. Since when did that ever do me any good?

I had no idea what time it was, but I knew that before long her alarm would go off and we'd have to get ready for the day. I was worried that this would turn into one of those awkward, post-sex days where she tried to act like nothing had happened, and I just followed her lead because I didn't know what else to do. At least I could be honest enough to admit that I loved kissing Quinn, and lying next to her, and she was pretty good at sex. For an amateur, anyway.

I shifted, snuggling myself closer to her. She was warm and sleepy, and she murmured slightly, opening her arms for me to burrow into. I rubbed my nose into the crook of her neck and began kissing her gently there. She made a humming noise in her throat, and tilted her head, giving me more access.

I rubbed my lips over her skin, tasting it. It was warm and sweet, and smelled fresh. I ran my tongue against the pulse there, and then sucked gently, smiling when I felt it quicken.

Quinn's breathing changed. I could tell she was waking up. I lifted myself up on one elbow so that I was hovering over her, and pressed a soft kiss against her lips, and then trailed my mouth along her jawline, creeping up towards her ear. I licked the soft spot directly behind her lobe, and I felt her body jerk with a sudden gasp.

When I glanced back at her, her eyes were dark and glassy. Her face was flushed and her lips were parted slightly, and I smiled at her, leaning down to take the bottom one between my teeth. I sucked on it for a while, then ran my tongue along it. Quinn moaned gently, and her body rolled slowly.

I shifted to straddle her, pushing the blankets down around her knees. I felt a little weird, since I was naked and it was daylight, but the way she looked at me made it worth it. I smirked at her and began running my palms against her chest, over her shirt. I felt her nipples harden.

"Santana," Quinn said, and her voice was breathy and thick with sleep. I smiled at her.

"Morning," I murmured, and then slid my hands beneath her shirt, grazing my palms against her skin. It was incredibly soft and smooth. I played with the little ridges in her stomach and against the tight definition of her ribs, skating my fingers along the curve of her breasts. Quinn slammed her eyes shut and bit her bottom lip, suppressing a moan. I danced my fingers against her hardened nipples, watching her face. It was fascinating to see the play of emotion there, especially since Quinn was always so controlled and stoic. It was a little like watching a storm rise against the sea.

Quinn began running her hands up and down my arms, pressing against them urgently. I smiled, even though she couldn't see me, and obliged, finally cupping her breasts fully and then rolling them beneath my palms. Quinn shuddered, arching against me, and I pushed her shirt upwards to bunch around her shoulders. I leaned down and licked against a nipple, tweaking the other one sharply.

I noticed for the first time that Quinn was the utter opposite of me. Everywhere that I was dark, she was fair. Her nipples were the color of rose petals, a delicate pink. Her skin was all cream and gold against mine, which was a caramel toffee. Even her hands, which pressed against my shoulders and squeezed tightly, were more dainty and delicate than mine.

I wanted to see more of her. My mouth wanted to taste every inch of her skin.

I slowly trailed kisses along her breast, sucking occasionally at the tender skin. I pressed my lips against the dip in between them, and then slid upwards to suck on the jut of her collarbone. Quinn bucked beneath me, and her breathing was frantic and unsteady. I smiled, then continued my lazy descent down her body. Quinn became more frantic the lower I got, squirming and rocking her hips slightly. I slid my fingers underneath her ribcage, holding onto her, and rubbed my thumbs against her sides slowly. My mouth was hot and wet against her stomach, and now my center was resting on top of Quinn's panties. I could feel the heat coming off of her in waves, and it made my stomach tighten with longing.

I slid even further down, and began to tease the skin directly above her panty line. My hands slid down, past her hips, and I hooked my fingers into the elastic band.

I startled, and glanced upwards, when Quinn's fingers circled my wrist. I could smell her through her panties, and it was hot and intoxicating. I could see the dampness that was pooling there, turning the material dark.

"No, Santana," Quinn murmured, and pulled at my wrist. She tugged me upwards, and I slid against her body, rubbing my breasts and abdomen against hers. It sent little shivers through me, making my thighs twitch.

"What's wrong?" I whispered. Quinn's eyes were dark and cloudy, and she was biting her lip. I lifted my hand to stroke against her cheek, running my fingers against her hairline. I traced a fingertip against the delicate shell of her ear.

Quinn shuddered and let out a searing breath. She looked at me for a few moments, her eyes glancing between my own. "I'm not ready." She said it so quietly I felt like I almost didn't hear her.

I lifted myself up and then looked down at her again. She was nearly shaking beneath me. "I'd say you're pretty ready, Quinn," I murmured, and then leaned down and pressed a kiss against her lips. "I won't hurt you, you know." I said it while I looked into her eyes.

She smiled at that, and it made my heart beat one thick beat in my chest. "I know."

She was wriggling now, but not the sexy kind. She was trying to get out from underneath me. I frowned, then pressed downwards with my hips, pinning her there. She looked at me with a slightly guilty expression and it made me scrunch my face in a scowl. "What exactly is going on here?" I asked, a little bit louder. "It's cool for you to do whatever to me, but I can't touch you?" I didn't want to admit it, but the idea kinda stung. I mean, if I didn't actually care about Quinn and genuinely want to show her how amazing sex could be, I'd probably dig the arrangement. What isn't there to like about it? Still, it left me feeling insulted, or insecure. Like maybe Quinn didn't think I would be very good at it. Or like she didn't trust me.

Quinn was looking away nervously now, chewing on her lip. "Uh, it's not as bad as you're making it sound." Her voice was unsure. She closed her eyes and then brought her hands up to rub over her face, making the skin stretch and distort her features for a moment. "The idea just kinda freaks me out, okay?" She said finally, with her fists pressed against her eye sockets. "Like, somebody down there. Doing that."

"I'm not just.. somebody, Quinn." I told her, seriously. "And I let you do whatever you want to me."

Quinn was pressing against her face even harder, and I wondered if she wasn't going to make her eyeballs explode. "Oh, god, Santana, I know," She said with a groan. "It's just kinda scary. I don't know. I see what it's like for me to do it to you, and it makes me feel…" She paused, searching for the word. "Incredible. Awesome."

I nodded. "Yes, I have that effect on people."

Quinn snorted. "But I'm just worried that.." She trailed off and let out a huge sigh.

I studied her. "Quinn, you don't need to fear the big O. Believe me, it's much more incredible to experience than to just donate to people." I rolled my eyes. "Especially if somebody is willing to, you know, give you a big kiss." I smirked at her. "Not everybody is as charitable as I am about that, believe it or not. But I'll humor you, and we'll start with baby steps, okay?"

Quinn pulled her arm down and peeked at me with one eye. "What do you mean?"

I chuckled at her tone, which was apprehensive and nervous, but also full of all that Quinn snottiness that was just so her. "Just relax, Goldilocks."

I could feel her body beneath me, and it was doing the opposite of relaxing. In fact, it seemed like every muscle in Quinn's body was tense and shaking. I slid off of her and snugged against her side, tucking my body against hers so that every inch of my skin was pressing into her in some way. I began stroking her stomach, and when Quinn finally lowered her arms away from her face, I leaned up and kissed her gently on the mouth.

It took a m inute, and a lot of gentle pressure and rubbing, but Quinn began to respond to the kiss. It was slow, and I kissed her without any demands, only unhurried warmth. I could sense her calming down by degrees, as her muscles unknotted and her heartbeat evened back out. My hand continued to stroke against her belly, trailing my fingertips against her ribcage and the undersides of her breasts. I felt her breath quicken and stutter against my lips.

I slid my tongue into her mouth at the same time I slid my fingers beneath the seam of her panties. Quinn choked on a strangled sound, but I swallowed it, and only slid my fingers against the outside of her mound softly. Quinn's chest was heaving now, and her breathing was labored and sobbing against me. I broke our kiss and she turned away, sucking in on air. She had one hand fisted in the comforter, the other tangled in my hair as I leaned in to lick and nip against her neck again.

Quinn's legs were trembling restlessly, and I slid a single finger down against the crevice of her lips. Quinn bit down on her lower lip and squeezed her eyes closed. I lifted my head to watch her as I trailed my finger against her wetness, gently, up and down. Her cheeks were flushed and her breathing was ragged.

"Are you ready?" I whispered.

Without opening her eyes, Quinn nodded.

I kissed her lips again, and pressed against her, sliding between her lower lips. My fingers were drowning. I moaned into her, to let her know how hot I thought she was. Quinn was quivering, her whole body fidgety and jerky. I dipped my fingertip against her slick hole, teasing it. Quinn's hips shifted, her legs spreading almost imperceptibly in invitation.

I slid it inside slowly, and Quinn moaned, her body arching. It made my own insides clench and a flood of warmth erupt from me. I sucked in a breath through my nose, and pressed sprinkling kisses all over Quinn's face. Quinn couldn't concentrate on kissing, and neither could I. I pulled my finger out of her and when I slid it back, there was a second one with it. Quinn groaned and thrust her hips at me.

I began rocking my wrist into her, and I marveled at the texture and damp softness of it. It never ceased to amaze me how wonderful and exquisitely right it felt. Kind of like the satisfying way it feels to click the last piece of a puzzle into place.

I felt Quinn's insides tighten against my fingers, and I licked at her neck, sucking along the base of it and nipping at her collarbone. I shifted the angle of my hand, and my thumb found her clit. I began to rub slow circles against it, in time with my thrusting. Quinn's body went rigid and she turned her face into her pillow to muffle the sounds she was making.

I maintained the pace for a moment, but then I wanted more. I wanted to see how fast and how high I could take her. I began to shove more frantically into her, my thumb flicking mercilessly. Quinn was making little sobbing noises, her hands clenching wildly. Her body froze suddenly, in one tight, rigid arc, and I could feel her sucking at my fingers, over and over and over. I moaned against her neck, pressing my face into it as her body shuddered and shook.

Quinn came down slowly, each muscle unwinding individually, it seemed like. I could feel the residual tremors inside of her, and I tested my fingers against them reflexively. Quinn jumped, and then jerked her head to look at me. I lifted my face and smiled a small smile at her, before I finally pulled out of her.

Her lips were red and puffy, and her cheeks were flushed. She had a glossy, faraway look in her eyes. I kissed her again, and then shifted, wiping my fingers against the outside of my comforter before I dragged her body close to mine and squeezed her.

Quinn grunted, lifting her palms to rub against her face again. "I can't believe that just happened."

I scowled, jerking my head up to glare down at her. "What, is that what you said to Puckerman after you had sex with him?"

Quinn scoffed. "Please, Santana, let's not talk about Puck right now, okay?" She lifted her mouth in a sneer. "It still kinda weirds me out that we both have had sex with him."

I rolled my eyes.

"What I meant was, it was unbelievable and amazing." Quinn said ironically, staring at the ceiling. I quirked a brow at her, cocking my head, and then a grin spread over my face.

"Honey, that's nothing. I have way more tricks up my sleeve."

Quinn pursed her lips, looking at my face. "I knew it was a mistake to stroke your ego."

I grinned at her. "I have something else you can stroke."

Quinn laughed, scandalized, and slapped at me. "Santana, God." She chuckled. "You're just like a boy sometimes."

I raised my eyebrows at her, smirking. She sat up and slid out of the bed, and I did the same thing. "I thought your powers of deduction were better than that, Quinn. I hope by now you realize that there's nothing mannish about me."

Quinn rolled her eyes at me. "Are you going to be like this all day?"

I laughed. "Probably."

Xxxxx

I looked into the square, masculine face of Brynn Thomas as we faced each other on the kickboxing mat. I hated that she was so slight and willowy, but she always, somehow, managed to send me to my ass during these sparring sessions. Mr. Wilson thought we would be good partners since we were both teenagers, but mostly, I wanted to crack her jaw and make her nose bleed because she was so apathetic but still somehow superior. It would have been easier to jump on her and smack her around, Lima Heights style, but I figured that would be counterproductive.

I stood with my hands in front of me, fingers loose, while Brynn stood in the same position. I tried to watch her body for physical keys that she was about to attack, but she was as unreadable as a stone. I was glancing down at her hips, waiting for the telltale twitch, and the next thing I knew her bare foot connected with my jaw and sent me sprawling on the ground.

"Fuck!" I yelled, my back and butt connecting with the blue mat. I imagined that if this had been some kind of cartoon, those little yellow birds would be floating around my head right now. I groaned, lifting my hand to rub at my jaw. It was already swelling.

Brynn just stood there. She'd given up on trying to help me up whenever she landed me flat on my back, because I never accepted it. With a determined grunt, I heaved myself upwards, shaking my limbs loose. I frowned at her. Her face remained impassive.

"Santana!" Mr. Wilson said, walking over towards us. "You should have blocked that hit. You need to turn your body, use your shoulders as a shield."

I shrugged. I'd already heard this before. I was terrible at kickboxing. I couldn't wait for this to be over.

Mr. Wilson came up beside me, and placed one of his palms against my hip, sliding it down my thigh firmly. "When you go in for a roundhouse, you have to put your momentum in through your hip, not your knee. You want to try to kick through the target, not at the target."

I rolled my eyes. I thought maybe he was just trying to cop a feel, because this touching was not necessary. "Also, we're working on body shots, not head shots," He threw towards Brynn.

My jaw throbbed and I glared at Brynn. I could swear the slightest smile curled her lips.

"All right, Santana, try it."

I glanced at him. "Try what?"

"The Muy Thai roundhouse."

I grunted and turned to face him. He was wearing a black t-shirt and black shorts, and he was shiny and covered in sweat. I bet I looked a hot mess, too. Brynn, somehow, didn't. She seemed unruffled and unexerted.

I tried to remember what he said, but mostly all I could think about was the way my face ached and how tired I was. His stance was more supple and practiced than Brynn's. I tried to imagine doing what he'd asked, heaving my hip upward and kicking with my shin through his chest. And then the second time I imagined doing it, I also just did it.

He blocked my kick easily with his forearm, but he smiled at me. "That was really good. Just try to kick harder next time. This isn't going to do you any good if you're just swatting at somebody with your feet."

He had a hold of my foot still. I was standing there, awkwardly, balancing on one leg. I lifted an eyebrow at him.

He let it go and tossed me a smile before he went off to help another sparring couple.

Brynn came up beside me, folding her arms over her chest. "I believe he wants to mate with you."

I crinkled my face, giving her a perturbed look. "That's gross."

Brynn's eyebrows rose upwards speculatively. "He has good bone structure and pleasing body tone. He is, in fact, extremely attractive."

I looked at Brynn with an eyebrow raised. If this girl thought Mr. Wilson was hot, then why didn't I? I watched him as he helped an older woman heave upwards with her knee into one of those rubbery guys used for target practice.

I bent down to pick up my towel and wrapped it around my neck. I shot Brynn a glance. "Yeah, well, if you find him so pleasing, why don't you mate with him?" I made a face. It still felt like talking to a textbook sometimes whenever Brynn and I had conversations.

Brynn shrugged, using her own towel to mop at the nonexistent sweat on her face. "Clearly it would be socially unacceptable for me to pursue a physical relationship with a man twice my age."

I grunted, squinting. "Clearly. It would also be gross on so many levels."

Brynn cocked her head at me. "Santana, are you a homosexual?"

I nearly choked. "Say what?"

Brynn was studying me. "It just seems to me that you have an unnatural distaste for the idea of copulating with men. It has occurred to me that you might be attracted to women instead."

I rolled my eyes, and glanced around the room to make sure nobody was paying attention to us. "God, Brynn, you're such a little freak, you know that? I've 'copulated' with plenty of men. What I have a natural distaste for, is thinking about you copulating with anybody, because you're less than human and more like a zombie."

Brynn frowned. "Well, I still get the impression that you and Quinn have a romance going on."

I groaned. This was unbelievable. First Sugar, now this freak show. "Look, it's none of your damn business, all right?"

We were walking towards the locker rooms slowly, because it was nearly time to go but Mr. Wilson hadn't dismissed the session yet. I was tired of getting my ass thrown against those thin, hard mats, and I thought if Brynn did it one more time, I'd probably tackle her and start punching. Really not productive.

"I don't see why you're so defensive about it," Brynn said. "I mean, homosexuality is a naturally occurring phenomenon seen throughout the animal kingdom."

I lifted my hand to scrub my palm over my face. Was this really happening? "I know that. But even if something like that were happening," I shot her a warning glance, "It would still definitely not be your business, or anybody else's."

Brynn nodded. "I can see why you'd be apprehensive about it. The culture we live in can be unaccepting of things it considers outside the societal norm."

"You think?" I sneered. Brynn was pissing me off. I needed to get away from her, stat.

When I got to my little locker that housed my cell phone and water bottle, I pulled it out and checked the time. Quinn wouldn't be here for another five or ten minutes. I glanced at Brynn, who was collecting her things in a small gym bag.

"Hey, Brynn," I said, my tone even. "You know when Quinn asked you if you knew where the cemeteries were?"

Brynn nodded. "Yes."

"Okay, can you possibly tell me if there's one that has, like, a mausoleum?"

Brynn glanced down, thinking. "There is one. The mausoleum is very small though."

I shrugged. "It'll work."

Brynn was waiting for me, so I closed my locker and we began walking towards the door. "I don't understand cemeteries," Brynn admitted to me. I glanced down at her. She usually didn't try to extend conversations like this – usually she only answered questions with minimal words and stayed silent unless spoken to. She was unusually chatty today. "I mean, why do people worship the remains of the deceased?"

My eyebrows rose. "Um, it makes them feel better, I guess. People honor their family, los sagradomuertos, you know."

"It's irrational." Brynn said firmly.

I shrugged. "Maybe it is. But it still makes you feel better to be able to visit them, sit some roses down, talk to them a while."

Brynn crinkled her face at me. "They no longer have functioning ears or brains, to process language. What possible good can it do to talk to a headstone?"

This chick was unbelievable. I gaped at her a minute, truly lost for words. "It's psychological, I guess," I said after a moment. "I mean, everyone knows that thing you said, about not having brains. Everyone knows it's just a gravesite. But still, people think that the dead can hear them talk and it makes them feel better to know they still have a connection to that person."

Brynn shook her head. "It's entirely illogical."

I laughed a small laugh. "Don't tell Quinn you think that, or you'll lose some of your cool points with her." I smiled idly. "If you think so little of cemeteries, then why do you know where they are?"

Brynn shrugged. "Cemeteries are a wonderful environment for foxes, I've noticed. The graveyards around here are overrun with them. So I can find dead rabbits, cats, birds.."

I scrunched my face up. "Completely sick, Brynn."

"Quinn also has this unreasonable desire to speak to inanimate objects?" Brynn asked, looking up at me.

"Look, you know more about Quinn's weird obsession than I do, okay? I don't think she likes to talk to the headstones, because.. well that would be creepy, they're all strangers anyway." I shook my head. "I think it's like, she finds them peaceful or something."

Brynn and I were standing outside now, on the sidewalk, waiting for Quinn to show up. "It's absurd to want to speak to any gravestone, no matter if the remains belong to a stranger or not."

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, Brynn, I get it. You think people are nutcases for wanting to talk to their dead friends and family."

Brynn looked like she was on the verge of saying something more, but Quinn rolled up. I gratefully slugged the door open and slid in, shutting it behind me.

"Aw, what happened to your face?" Quinn asked me, smiling gently. She reached her hand up to press against my cheek, and I flinched away. I glanced nervously in the rearview mirror at Brynn, who was watching us with her keen eye. I scowled.

"Nothing." I crossed my arms.

"It doesn't look like nothing," Quinn said, and she turned my head to face her, studying the mark on my jaw.

I jerked my head away from her. "Damnit, Quinn, just leave it alone."

Quinn frowned at me, then arched an eyebrow and put the car in reverse. "You're such a touchy loser."

I sat silently in the passenger seat, fuming. I didn't care that Brynn had knocked me on my ass – well, I sorta did, but I liked it when Quinn fawned all over me and treated me nice if I had a bruise. She was so sweet and cute that it made my insides ache from it. But if Brynn, as socially isolated and insane as she was, was beginning to think there was something between Quinn and me, then who else did?

I couldn't imagine what it would be like at Atherton if it got around that me and Quinn slept together. Bullies like Mildred Birmingham would be the least of it. The daughters of state senators and representatives attended Atherton, most of them conservative.

The thought of what would happen if it got back to my dad made my cheeks burn. He would go postal. He'd ship me off to Puerto Rico until I drowned myself in the ocean due to shame.

Xxxxx

I was halfway to Mr. Neely's office the next day when I remembered that stupid goddamn essay I was supposed to write. Fucking shit! I had had a crazy week, and I had completely forgot. Not to mention that I was doing my own caseload of homework, but also pretty much doing Brittany's Spanish homework for her too, as well as giving her lessons in some basic Spanish phrases. I couldn't really believe that she was genuinely interested in learning a foreign language – let's face it, the girl isn't that great with English to begin with – but she was. She'd learned the colors and the days of the week in only two days' time, which was pretty amazing considering.

I scrubbed my palm over my forehead, pausing in my tracks. What exactly was he going to do to me for not writing the stupid essay? I hadn't even looked over the material, to be honest.

I sighed and decided I'd have to face the music. Grimly, I stomped into his office and sat down, not bothering to look at him.

"Santana, it's nice to see you again," Mr. Neely said.

I nodded at him. I decided I was going to have to be nice to him, well, as nice as I could be.

"Did anything happen to make you angry today?"

I shifted my arms across my chest. "Not really. I had a good day."

Mr. Neely seemed surprised that I was actually talking to him. He smiled at me, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "Well that's a relief. Have you been spending time thinking about why you get angry or defensive?"

I had to suppress the urge to roll my eyes. "Not.. really. I mean, nothing much has happened to make me angry," I immediately flipped through all the instances in the last week that proved that sentence untrue. Basically every other interaction with Quinn or Brittany had made me angry, having to spend five hours locked in a car with Rachel Berry made me angry, the fact that my mother was cheating on my father made me angry, and Brynn Thomas assuming I was a flannel-wearing lesbo made me angry.

Mr. Neely tapped on his desk idly. "Still, even if an instance doesn't arise that triggers your rage, you should still be studying ways to diffuse it and handle it in a healthy manner."

I shrugged. "Yeah, I know. Like breathing exercises and junk."

He squinted his eyes at me. "Did you write that essay for me?"

I gulped. "Uh, no. I just got hella busy. I mean, I did read the articles, and I even started it—" I hoped it sounded less like the lie than it was, "But I didn't get it done. I'll have it for you next week if you want."

Mr. Neely was nodding, steepling his fingers. "All right, Santana, I'll accept that." He shifted in his seat.

"Let's talk about the ways you deal with your anger, okay?"

I had to suppress a groan. Oh my god, this guy wanted to piss me off, didn't he? "Whatever."

"There are three main ways people deal with their anger." Mr. Neely droned on. "Expressing, repressing, and calming."

I stared at him. Was he in love with listening to himself talk? It was almost worth it to get expelled so I didn't have to listen to him lecture me.

"The instinctive, natural way to express anger is to respond aggressively. Anger is a natural, adaptive response to threats; it inspires powerful, often aggressive, feelings and behaviors, which allow us to fight and to defend ourselves when we are attacked. A certain amount of anger, therefore, is necessary to our survival.

"It is not productive or even desirable to always react with physical violence, however," Mr. Neely threw a look at me. I tuned back in to what he was saying, nodding.

The rest of the hour went on like that. Mr. Neely harangued me about the evils of lashing out, and how there were more healthy ways of dealing with rage. Blah, blah blah, blah.

After the session was over, I gratefully left, trying not to let my irritation show. For some reason, people talking about anger just made me angry. I needed to watch that movie, Anger Management, with Jack Nicholson in it.

Quinn was in the dorm when I got there, tapping away at her laptop. She turned and offered me a brief smile. "I got you a cucumber Caesar wrap."

I nodded, shrugging my shoulders. I was annoyed, but at least she hadn't gotten me something terrible, like tacos or a cheeseburger.

I sat down and untied my shoes, rolling my stockings down. Quinn quirked an eyebrow at me. She hadn't turned back to her laptop yet.

"What's wrong?" She asked quietly. I threw her a glance.

"Oh, you know, Mr. Neely yammering on and on about healthy ways to deal with anger.." I rolled my eyes. "Please. He's such a limp noodle I bet he's never gotten angry about anything in his life."

Quinn laughed. "Be that as it may, you might could try listening to him. You are pretty prickly."

I scowled at her. "Yeah? Who asked you, Fabray?"

Quinn just smiled at me, which for reasons beyond my understanding, made me want to punch something. "A little bit of therapy would probably do you some good, you know."

I clenched my fists together and stood up, glaring. "What the heck is that supposed to mean?"

Quinn shrugged, perhaps realizing that her words weren't coming across as casual or amusing to me. I could feel the pulse beat in my chest and a rush of blood filled my ears. I was starting to get really pissed, and even that pissed me off. I didn't have a reason to be mad. I didn't want to be angry, but I couldn't help it, and Quinn sure as hell wasn't making things better.

"You're just carrying around a lot of baggage, is all," Quinn said quietly.

"What the hell would you know about it? At least I don't go through life acting like the perfect little ice queen." I sneered at her. "You're so repressed and bottled up, you're probably going to go all psycho one day and kill everyone in your house before offing yourself."

Quinn's eyebrows shot up. "Wow, Santana, way to deflect." Her tone was carefully neutral.

"See, that. That's what I'm talking about." I gestured at her. "Instead of just getting mad, like I know you want to, you ignore it."

Quinn stared at me. "If you don't recall, I spent a lot of time angry last year. I remember what it feels like to be pissed off at everyone, at the whole world, at my entire life. I hated that feeling."

I watched her as she said it, and something about her words helped to calm me down. I studied her face and then let out a sigh, sitting down on my bed. "God, we're a nice pair, aren't we?" My tone was full of irony. "Me, the crazy bitch who goes all Mike Tyson on everyone, and you, quietly insane, all Unibomber style."

Quinn smiled softly at that, and she stood up and walked towards me. She laid her palm gently against my face, which was puffy and swollen and ached when I talked. "We fit together," She said simply.

I watched her while she watched me, a sense of growing panic forming in my gut. My breathing wanted to go all haywire and my heart was skittering in my chest. The way Quinn was looking at me, the way she was touching my cheek.. it freaked me out.

I laughed lamely, darting my eyes around the room. "Let me know if you want to crash any airplanes any time soon. We'd be a perfect pair of terrorists."

Quinn smiled at me knowingly, and she rubbed the pad of her thumb across my lips before she walked back to her computer desk and sat down. I let out a huge breath that I hadn't even known I'd been holding.

A/N: Okay, guys.. seriously.. I need songs for the Vox to sing. Pleeeeease?