Pairing: Rachel/Santana/Brittany

Words: ±600

There's a fire

"Fuck," Santana let herself fall down on the bed, before sitting up. "I get it, I get it," she mumbled, standing up, the shrill alarm drilling into her brain. She put on the shorts and t-shirt that were her pajamas at start of the night but had gotten rid of because it was too hot, choosing to sleep just in her underwear. She yawned. She had thought they were joking when, at the reception, they told them that often the fire alarm would go off in the middle of the night, and that although usually it was just some insects getting fried and triggering the alarm, they'd better leave the rooms and follow the fire safety procedures, because 'you never know…' Of course they would have found some shitty hotel like that. Sure, they had single rooms, but she wasn't sure that it was worth being woke up at…Santana looked at the time on the phone: the numbers were fuzzy…right! She put on the reading glasses that were on her bed side and checked again. Four o'clock in the morning.

Rachel closed the door of her room and took a step in the hallway, hands rubbing her eyes.

"Hey."

Rachel opened her eyes and tried to focus on the person who had spoke. She looked at Santana for few seconds before widening her eyes and turning on her heels, retreating back into her room.

"Better now?"

Rachel blinked, then smiled. "I see you!"

Santana laughed at the girl wearing plaid pajamas pants and a white top.

"No, really, you were just a blur," Rachel adjusted the glasses she had retrieved. "I don't know how I forgot about them. I can't see further than the end of my nose," she repressed a yawn.

"And what a nose," Santana tried to joke, but she was too sleepy to do it properly, just as Rachel didn't have the strength to reprimand her as usual and settled for a light slap on her shoulder.

"Let's go seeing what's going on."

The brunettes watched as Brittany skipped ahead of them, before coming to an halt as she realized they weren't following her.

"Why are you so awake?" Santana asked, almost disgusted, and Rachel nodded.

Brittany, pink long pajamas pants and pink top, smiled. "I had just went to bed when the alarm started," she stared at them. "You have glasses on."

"Brit," Santana pushed her glass up. "You know we wear them."

"Yeah, but you don't want the others to know."

Rachel and Santana looked at each other. They hadn't thought about that. Their teammates would be at the rendezvous point too.

"I really don't think I can put contacts in right now," Rachel scratched her head.

"I'll probably poke my eye out," Santana concurred.

Brittany looked first at Rachel, then at Santana. "Do you trust me?" she asked.

"Of course," both replied immediately.

"You don't even need to ask," Rachel added.

"Yeah, what the fuck, Brit," Santana agreed.

The blonde smiled and looked at them dreamily.

"Brittany?" Rachel called softly.

"Right," she recovered. "Let me," she trailed off and bringing her hands to Rachel's face, she took off the glasses. Then she did the same to Santana. "One second!" she run to Santana's room, that was the closer one, and left both pair of glasses there.

She returned to the brunettes, who were standing still in the middle of the hallway, blinking uncomfortably. She grabbed their hands. "Come on, I'll guide you."

"Brittany, please, don't let me fall down the stairs."

"Rachel?"

"Yes?"

"It's four in morning."

"I know, Santana," Rachel said clearly, confused.

"Can you please spare us the speech about the devastating consequences your untimely death would have on Broadway and the entire world?"