A/N: Two updates in one day! I am most definitely in procrastinating mode!

Angsty, Angst, Angst ...

Blaine Anderson:

"Blaine ... "

I turn away from the front door to see Santana is leaning against the kitchen table - wearing one of my old shirts and only her underwear. My eyes rake over her bare legs, and I swallow dryly. No. I won't let her distract me.

I open my mouth to reply, but she strides across the room, and throws her arms around my neck. Before I can say a word, her lips are against mine. She kisses me desperately, tangling her hands in my hair, pushing her hips against mine.

I can't help it when my hands snake around her waist, searching for skin, stroking her under my oversized shirt. My thumbs are hooked in the waistband of her underwear, forcing her closer to me. And her hips are rubbing against mine as she slides her tongue against my lips.

I push her against the table, and she wraps her legs around me, pressing into semi-hard swell in my jeans. I continue kissing her, because hello sweet friction. Her chest presses against mine - and she's not wearing a bra. Oh man.

I pull away, panting slightly. "You can't just do that!"

"What?" She gasps, pulling away.

"Be all mad, and then just think everything's okay just because you're kissing me." She raises her eyebrows dubiously, and I continue. "I want an explanation for why you were so upset last night! And you can't just treat Kurt like that. He's my friend - things are finally okay between us. I don't want - "

"No, Blaine, not okay!" Santana yells, shoving me away and jumping off the table. "If you saw me curled up on the couch with Puckerman, or Brittany, you'd get mad!"

"No I wouldn't. Besides you were mad before - "

"Yes! You would be mad! You'd hate to see me with any of my ex's - don't deny it Blaine! In fact, it's worse - because you could just be confused! What if ... " Her voice chokes up, and she drags the hem of my shirt further down her thighs - I recognize it as one of her nervous habits. "What if I'm the faze, Blaine? What if I'm the experiment? What if Kurt is your permanent solution? What if he's the one you love?"

"No," I breathe. "Where the hell is this coming from, San?" My shaking hands reach for her, but she pulls away. "I don't understand why you're acting like this. I love you. Kurt is my friend, though. And you can't just be rude towards him - I don't even deserve his friendship."

She lets out an angry shriek. "You are fucking kidding me, right? You're deluded if you think friendship is the only reason Kurt was here tonight. He still loves you, Blaine! Dangling Karofsky in your face? Obviously, he's trying to make you jealous. Yeah, I know about that!"

Oh god.

"You're crazy," I step away, holding up my hands. "It's like you're looking for any excuse to fight with me."

"And you keep giving me reasons to!"

"Whatever." I shake my head. "Talk to me when you get off your period."

I'm sitting sullenly on the couch, arms folded across my chest, when Santana storms back into the lounge room. My excitement from our angry make out session has disappeared completely. I have a headache, and I just want to stop fighting.

"I can't do this if you don't trust me Santana," I mutter, standing up and meeting her gaze.

"I do trust you, Blaine! But, what if I'm not good enough?"

"You are! Why can't you understand that? God, why do you keep jumping to assumptions - " I stutter through my words, trying to force them out of my mouth all at once.

"I'm not making assumptions! I had a perfectly good reason to be mad about Kurt - "

"No, you didn't!" I explode, ignoring the pounding in my head. "You were angry before that! Remember? You'd been fucking banging an crashing since last night when I got home from work! What had I even done wrong? Why are you in such a bad mood? Who was on the phone when I came in? Huh?"

"It doesn't - "

"Matter? Obviously it does!" I yell. "Tell me, Santana. Who was on the phone? Who upset you?"

"It's not like I can change it anyway!" She bursts out. "I have no fucking control anymore. Do you know how that feels? I was always in control, Blaine - and now ... Now everything is exploding, and I can't do a thing about it!"

"Was it Brittany?" I ask. "What did she say, Santana?"

"No, it wasn't Brittany." Santana says bitterly.

"Then who? Who was on the phone?"

"Maybe I'm just a bitch, Blaine!"

My brain is screaming at me. Because she is blatantly ignoring my question."No, you're not a bitch. You're Santana! You're passionate! There's a difference, you know!"

"Maybe you don't know me at all - "

"You've got to be kidding me! I fucking know you better than anyone! You know it, I know it - we all know it! I. Love. You." My voice is shaking, and I keep my gaze locked with Santana's the whole time.

She drags her eyes away from mine, staring down into the carpet and throwing her hands across her chest defensively. "Maybe this was a mistake," She mumbles.

I'm about to continue my rant, when my eyes bulge out as I realize what she's just said. "What are you saying?" I ask in a hard voice. Already, my hands are shaking. I shove them deep in my pockets. Santana looks away bluntly, so I step forward, resting my hand below her chin, and forcing her to meet my eyes. She stares at me, gnawing at her bottom lip.

"We didn't talk, we didn't do this properly," Her voice quavers slightly, and she looks away. "Maybe we rushed into things. Jesus. You expect me to tell you about the phone call, when - "

I jump away from her, like I've just been electrocuted. "I can't believe you!" I yell, kicking the table. "You're making no sense! Santana, who was the one that punched your fucking boss? Me. Who was there for you when you found out Brittany was pregnant? Me. You have no idea what it was like to realize that I'm in love with a girl! Goddamit. And now ... ? Now, I don't even know who I am without you! And here you are screaming me about ... What? A phone call?" I grab the pillow off a chair, and throw it across the room. It hits the lamp in the loungeroom, sending it crashing to the floor. "I fucking love you! So much it - "

"This isn't about that!" Santana yells, dragging a hand through her hair.

"Then what the fuck is it about?"

"Jesus, you don't get it, Blaine! You don't get anything!" She picks up her wallet and storms into her bedroom.

"Where are you going?" I ask desperately, following her.

"Away," She drags on a pair of jeans, and tucks my shirt into them. The thrown-together look suits her, and I just want to pull her into my arms and kiss her, and show her how much I love her, and ... "I can't do this anymore, Blaine!"

"Santana, what - "

"No," She cuts me off.

"I love you." I say desperately.

She stares at me for a long moment. "How can you be sure?"

I am sure, though.

I just am.