"I really hate airports," Santana frowned, crossing her legs and slouching in the nearly comfortable chair.

Brittany glanced up from the magazine she had stolen out of Santana's car. The woman was watching the people move around them with a scowl.

"For someone who was just gushing about how excited you are to see Quinn," Brittany teased, even with that face, she found Santana adorable, "you sure look like a pouty face."

"I'm not a..." Santana seemed confused and offended by the term, "pouty face."

Brittany gave her an agreeing smile that bordered on sarcastic, "Right."

"I am right," she brushed off Brittany's quip and continued, "and I was not gushing. I just mentioned that I miss her. That's not gushing."

"You mentioned it like," Brittany bit back a laugh, "twenty times."

Santana sighed, "Yeah, well, maybe I do miss her that much."

"I think it's sweet," Brittany said sincerely.

She knew what Quinn meant to Santana, and how exactly how excited Santana was to see her again. Brittany was happy about this too, not only was she getting Rachel back from her impromptu vacation, but Santana was getting another ally at Clockwork. They both had the feeling that the next few weeks before the big exhibition were going to be hard.

"So do I."

They looked up, finding familiar faces dragging suitcases.

"Q," it wasn't in Santana to hide her smile and she was out of her seat in an instant. Quinn had just enough time to drop her carry on in an empty chair before they were hugging.

"I missed you too, S."

They were vaguely aware that Brittany and Rachel were greeting each other in the same manner just next to them, but suddenly it was okay to act a little sappy. They had missed each other, and there was nothing wrong with showing it.

In a hushed voice Quinn said, "I'm so sorry I wasn't here—"

"Seriously Q, it's fine," Santana brushed her apology off gently, giving her best friend one last squeeze, "I wasn't alone. Britt and T were here."

"I should of came back," Quinn frowned as they parted. "I should have—"

"Helped me kill that asshole back in California," Santana smiled slyly, trying to joke about it, "that would have been the only real solution."

Quinn laughed, catching on, "It did seem like a great idea at the time, and it would have been so easy too."

"Just cut his brakes right?" Santana smirked at the long running inside joke. "But it would've had to be when he was in the dorms because—"

"Then he wouldn't notice until he left—"

"And with that hill, he would have rolled right into—" Santana couldn't quite finish, she was trying to keep from laughing too hard and was just too happy have her friend back, someone that understood because she was there.

"Ah, too bad Holly talked you out of it," Quinn sighed, running her hand through her hair. "I was ready, had the wire cutters and everything."

Santana took a calming breath, a grin lingering on her face, "I believe it."

"Who are we conspiring against?" Rachel asked curiously from Brittany's side. Brittany looked equally curious, but for an entirely different reason; she knew who they were talking about, but she didn't know if Quinn had told Rachel about it.

Santana's smile faded a little, glancing to Quinn for an answer. For the first time she realized that Rachel might know everything. She didn't like that idea at all, everything was entirely too much. Quinn wouldn't have told her everything, right? But then again, Quinn had been worried enough to start booking a flight home, wouldn't Rachel want an explanation for that?

"No one important," Quinn's eyes reassured her. Rachel still looked puzzled, but a quiet understanding passed between them.

Santana raked her teeth over her bottom lip, acting quickly so there wouldn't be any further questions, "Here, let me get your bags."

Before Quinn could protest, the Latina was gathering up her things and nodded towards the exit, "Come on, you know I hate airports."

"I think you just hate being around so many people," Quinn smirked, turning to Rachel and taking the handle of her drag along suitcase.

After a mild protest that was really just a blush, Rachel let Quinn take it. The publicist gave her a small smile before falling into step with Santana. If either of them found it odd that they were the ones carrying the luggage, neither of them said anything.

A small distance fell between the pairs of friends, creating an implied sense of privacy so they could discuss the past week among themselves.

"How was the honeymoon?" Santana sent Quinn a sideways smirk.

"Shut up," Quinn rolled her eyes, but her face was flushing a little, "it wasn't like that, we had separate rooms."

Santana snorted, "And how long did that last?"

"A few days," Quinn mumbled, her blush darkening.

"Wow," Santana teased, "really playing hard to get, aren't you?"

"Like you're one to talk," Quinn rolled her eyes, "Kurt told me you took Brittany home after the convention. You brought her home, Santana."

They were both acutely aware that Santana had never brought anyone into that house with romantic intentions.

"He saw us get into a cab together," Santana scoffed, rolling her eyes, "he doesn't know what happened after that."

"Then tell me what happened after that," Quinn prompted with a challenge in her eye.

Santana could have easily lied. As it was, they never had been in the habit of talking about their relations, and Quinn would understand her instinct to be private. The bubbling delight about being able to talk about it with her best friend, admit that she was so happy, declare that she had found someone that was happy with her; that was too much to keep to herself.

She took a glance back, to make sure that Brittany and Rachel were too caught up in their own version of this conversation to pay attention to her.

"Maybe, that's exactly what happened," she knew she was blushing through the lopsided grin on her face, and didn't care, "and I finally had a reason to sleep in that bedroom that you've always insisted was so important."

"Well, you can thank me for that," Quinn laughed. She was loving this look on Santana, it was a liveliness she hadn't see in years. The smile, the light in her eyes, the playful humor about topics that would have been considered taboo a few months ago, Quinn was so happy for Santana. "Somehow, I don't think that cave you usually sleep in would have really set the mood."

"Shut up," Santana shook her head, rolling her eyes again, "Britt doesn't mind the basement."

"That's good because I haven't seen you this happy in forever," Quinn said it before she could stop herself.

Santana blinked a few times, trying to remember the last time she had been this happy.

"Not in a really long time, Q," she shrugged shyly. "But just wait until I get back to work, I'm sure I have about a hundred emails and fifty product reports waiting for me. It's going to be a hell of a day."

"You'll be fine," Quinn reassured her, "Trust me, getting your people ready for the expo isn't going to be nearly as chaotic as what's going on in my department."

There was something in her tone that made Santana ask, "What do you mean?"

"It's nothing to be worried about," Quinn followed Santana into the car park and looked back to make sure that the girls were still following them. "Just a precaution."

"Precaution to what?" she fished her keys out of her jacket pocket and popped the trunk of her car.

"That contact that I told you about," Quinn started helping Santana load the luggage, "the one in the marketing department that's keeping an eye on things for me—"

"Look at them, not together five minutes and already talking about work."

Rachel and Brittany's warm laughter echoed in the parking garage. Brittany sent Santana a private smile, happy that she was happy to have her best friend back. Rachel wandered a little closer to the blonde, and Quinn blushed at her proximity, her eyes flicking to the two other people in the area.

"I'm sorry," Quinn flushed a little, rubbing the back of her neck, "I know I promised to take it easy, at least until we got back to the office."

Santana smothered a laugh behind her hand, and bit her lip when Brittany gave her a chastising look, mumbling, "Don't be mean."

"Come on," Santana waved them to the car, walking to the passenger's door to open it for Brittany, "let's get you two home, I'm sure you're tired from the flight."

"It really wasn't that bad," Rachel shrugged.

"That's because you slept the whole time," Quinn nudged her shoulder lightly before they moved to opposite sides of the car. "On me, I might add."

"You liked it," Rachel brushed her bangs to the side coyly and sent Quinn a flirty smile before she ducked into the car.

Quinn flushed again, not missing Santana's amused expression, "Oh, shut up."

"I think I like her."

Quinn looked over her shoulder, finding Santana leaning against the frame of her bedroom door, "Who?"

"Rachel," Santana stepped into the bedroom, reacquainting herself with it. Quinn's room was so much more personable that her own. There were pictures on the walls, and a bookshelf of well loved novels, but more than that, she could feel Quinn in the room. There was a warm quality to it that her bedroom lacked.

"She's actually kind of funny," Santana finished, crossing her arms over her chest and walking up to one of the many collage style picture frames.

"You have no idea," Quinn continued unpacking her luggage, sorting it for dry cleaning. "I'm glad you like her."

Santana's eyes ran over the photos. A lot of them were from their college days, donning their sorority jackets. A few were of Quinn's family, her sister and mother. A vacation to the Grand Canyon, Quinn loved the sunny states. Santana wondered if she missed California.

"Quinn," Santana spotted a picture of herself and Tina sitting on a bench, it was one of their favorite spots on the UCLA campus, "I have to ask you something."

"Yes, I do think Brittany is too good for you, but she's the best thing that's ever happened to you, so I wont tell her to try to get out while she can."

Santana almost laughed, turning away from the photos, "You're so funny."

Quinn sent her a warm smile, "What's up, Santana?"

She licked her lips, suddenly nervous to say it out loud, "Did you know that Artie has a video of that night, back at UCLA?"

"He what?"

Santana took Quinn's wide-eyed and horrified expression as a no.

"He sent it to Tina," Santana hugged herself a little tighter. "She saw everything."

"She told you that?" Quinn asked quietly, watching her friend carefully, trying to gauge how she was dealing with this information. She was never leaving town again, too much happened when she was away.

"No," Santana let out a bitter laugh, "I overheard her tell Brittany about it. She doesn't know that I know."

"Why would she tell Brittany?"

"They were having a little moment," Santana waved her hand vaguely because she couldn't really explain it, "I don't think she was planning on it or anything, they just got all emotional and it slipped out. You know how easily Tina starts to cry."

Quinn took a deep breath, trying to figure it all out, "And he sent it to her because..."

"He was trying to break us up, he told her he had... feelings for me," Santana mumbled, the words still felt odd on her tongue.

Quinn kept her mouth shut, readjusting. Santana must have seen the perplexed look on her face because she said, "I know, it doesn't make any sense."

"It does...in a way," she shrugged, blinking slowly. "I mean, you two were always such an odd pair, but it worked so well and... " Quinn ran her hands through her hair, laundry momentarily forgotten, "you two spent so much time together, working on projects no one else understood. He would have been a fool to notfall for the girl that was so into the stuff he was into. You said it yourself, back then half the guys in your classes were crushing on you so bad that they hated Artie because you were always his partner. He might have let it go to his head—"

"Please, don't try to make sense of this, Q," Santana whispered harshly, because even if she hadn't meant it that way, Quinn was dangerously close to saying that she had lead him on. "I'd rather it didn't make any at all."

"I'm sorry," Quinn bit her lip, and there was a pause before she asked the next obvious question, "Does she still have it?"

Santana shrugged shortly, "I don't know."

"Do you want her to?"

"Yes," Santana had to admit it.

"Are you—" Quinn's shook her head startled at the thought, "Santana, you can't be thinking about watching that video."

She shrugged again, because she didn't know what she would do once she found out if Tina still had it or not.

"Santana," Quinn's gentle voice held a very subtle but definitive undertone to it, "you can't."

"It could answer so many questions."

"It could destroy you, again."

"Quinn, I'm not—"

Quinn crossed the room, and stubbornly Santana held her ground, even if her arms crossed tighter around her body.

"I'm not going to let that jackass do this to you again," Quinn didn't miss the defiant look in Santana's eye, she was trying to be strong and act like this wasn't a big deal, like Artie had never hurt her. Quinn knew that was far from the truth. "Santana, you didn't leave your bedroom for weeks after that night."

"I went to class," Santana rebuffed, although weakly.

"Only after Holly came and dragged your ass back to campus."

"A lot of good that did me," Santana rolled her eyes. "I should have just transferred to Berkeley then."

"Even then," Quinn ignored her, "you were like a zombie the entire time. You wouldn't talk to anyone, including Tina, all you did was work on your final projects. I had to cut off the power to get you to come out of your room and eat."

"And I nearly put you through a wall," the memory would have made her laugh on any other day, but right now all she could do was remember how out of it she had been. She threw herself into her school work so that she wouldn't have to think about anything else, not Artie, or Tina, or what she might not have done that night.

"My point being," Quinn shook Santana's shoulders to make the woman met her eyes, "I watched the idea of what might of happened that night eat you alive, then when the pictures came out—"

"Don't," Santana's hollow voice cut her off. "Don't even."

"I'm sorry," Quinn breathed, squeezing softly on her shoulders, "but I can't let you do this, Santana."

"It's not really up to you," Santana pursed her lips, her eyes falling to the floor to escape Quinn's worried eyes, "I have to do this, Q. I need to know what the fuck went down. I can't just—you should think of it as getting some sort of closure."

"Or reopening old wounds," Quinn tried, one last time.

"Consider the shit opened," Santana scoffed, "I have a new stack of porno's with my face on them to prove it."

"San—"

"I get that you're worried," Santana hugged her because it was the only was she could show she was thankful for that fact, "I get that. Hell, I would be worried too after everything I've put you through... but I have to do this."

Quinn wrapped her arms around her small frame, wishing it didn't have to be this way. She wished she could protect Santana from this in a way she hadn't been able to before. "I'll be here, if you need someone to sit with you, or whatever."

"I know," Santana pulled away and almost smiled, "and hey, maybe we'll luck out and Tina doesn't even have it anymore."

Quinn could only hope.

"Can I add you on Facebook?"

Santana glanced up from her morning emails. It was already looking like today was going to be a little rough, "What?"

"Facebook," Brittany tilted the computer monitor on her desk because it answered her question.

Her own profile was on Brittany's screen, well, what wasn't blocked by her privacy settings; which was everything. She didn't even allow people to see her profile picture if they weren't on an approved list.

"Are you supposed to ask permission before you send a friend request?" Santana asked with a smile.

"Probably not, but I'm not going to send a request if you're not going to accept it," Brittany chuckled, "that would be pointless."

"Why wouldn't I accept it?"

"I don't know," Brittany shrugged, picking up the wireless mouse to look at the bottom of it. She was avoiding Santana's eyes because she didn't want it to seem like this was a big deal. It wasn't really, but then again... on some level, it really was. "You said you don't have work people on your personal stuff like this."

"Don't be silly," Santana quirked an eyebrow, "you're not work people."

Brittany smiled and didn't need to hear any more than that, "Awesome."

Santana clicked around her web browser until she was logged into the same website and sure enough, Brittany S. Pierce wanted to be her friend. Santana accepted the request without hesitation and with that taken care of, she minimized the window. She had too much work to do to waste any time on Facebook right now.

"You have like," Brittany wasn't even ashamed to be going through Santana's page, "forty-eight friends."

"I don't do the acquaintance thing," Santana scrunched up her nose at the thought, "some people have three thousand friends on that thing and don't talk to more than fifteen of them. It's ridiculous."

"I think some of that is about networking," Brittany wanted to laugh, "just in case you need to get a hold of someone."

"I have a professional email for work contacts, and a cellphone. If you don't have access to either of those, it's not my problem."

"You're adorable," Brittany sent Santana a sideways glance and turned back to her cyber stalking.

It didn't look like Santana was on this profile more than two or three times a week, status updates were sporadic and usually links to articles about new technology and computer developments. She noticed that Santana had posted a link to an online version of Holly Holiday's recently published dissertation.

Holly Holiday commented on the post, "I expect to see your name in this journal soon. ps- I saw the newest promo adds for cock-work. Chica, how you be so pretty? #let me love you."

"You're friends with your old professor?" Brittany mused, clicking on Holly's icon. "The one you always talk about."

"I do not always talk about her," Santana rolled her eyes, but she knew that she never talked about any other professor.

Most of Holly's profile information was set to private, but her job title showed that she was still working at UCLA. Brittany studied her profile picture, and had to admit, "She's pretty."

"Hm," Santana made a small nose of disinterest.

Brittany smirked, "I'm sure she's very smart as well."

"She is," Santana mumbled around the end of her pen, still squinting at her computer screen. "She would be the department Chairman, like in charge of the entire Computer Science Department, if she hadn't deferred it to someone else."

"Why would she do that?"

"Loves teaching too much," Santana shrugged, "you can't run a department and juggle her level of graduate classes at the same time."

"Do you regret taking your job?" Brittany asked quietly.

"You mean because I would have more time in the lab instead of answering these emails?" Santana snorted lightly, glancing up from her monitor.

"Yeah," Brittany smiled back. "You seem to enjoy the practical part of your work much more than the administrative stuff."

"No, I don't regret it," Santana shook her head softly. "Some days are better than others, I'll give you that, but since I came in, the department has been ridiculously more proficient. We're ahead of Orbit for the first time in years, and I'm totally proud of that. That makes all of this shit worth it."

Brittany was pretty proud of that too.

"Speaking of running the department," Santana closed out of her last email, "we have to get to the floor."

"Right," Brittany started logging off and grabbed her notebook.

Santana was about to lock her computer, but the Facebook window caught her eye. For the sake of her curiosity, Santana clicked on Brittany's name to bring up her profile. She wanted to see if the blonde had changed her profile picture from their shoes at the gym.

Brittany had, and the new photo made Santana's stomach flutter. Again, there were no faces in the photo, just two objects sitting on a vague surface.

Her glasses, resting on top of Brittany's notebook. From the closeup quality of the picture you couldn't tell that they were sitting on Brittany's nightstand, but Santana knew. Brittany must have taken this picture the morning after she spent the night. Santana reached up instinctively to adjust her glasses but touched her face instead. She frowned, remembering that she was wearing contacts.

"Are you alright?"

Santana blinked up, finding Brittany standing just on the other side of her desk, watching her curiously. She relaxed a little when she realized that Brittany couldn't see her screen at that angle, so she logged out quickly and said, "Yeah, I'm fine."

"So stressed already?" Brittany teased, "I'm going to call Kurt and have him bring you another coffee."

"I just might need one actually," she stood, moving around her desk and next to Brittany. "But for now..."

She could feel the smile on Brittany's face when she kissed her cheek. She lingered for just a heartbeat, wishing she understood why that photo meant so much to her. Falling back to her heels, Santana breathed slowly, a small smiled on her face, "I think that will have to do."

Brittany held her eyes, then with a playful light to them, the blue orbs traveled to Santana's lips, then further south. Santana shivered under her gaze, barely able to keep from blushing when Brittany caught her eyes again and whispered, "For now."

It was a promise that Santana would love to keep.

Even if she hadn't known that the Clockwork's largest exhibition was just around the corner, Brittany would have been able to figure out that there was something important about to happen. Clockwork was absolutely buzzing with activity. People were tense, deadlines had to be met, meetings booked, phone calls made, things needed to happen and quick.

There was general undercurrent of anxiety, but Brittany was oddly proud that the IT Department seemed to be the less frazzled of them all. Santana was holding her people in check, keeping a strong focus and making things happen. What surprised her was when, in the few moments that Santana excused herself to handle something personally, Brittany had been approached by a few different office hands inquiring about Santana's guidance on this or that. Brittany always answered to the best of her abilities

"Hey," Brittany caught Santana's arm as she passed through the COG floor again, making her way towards the main lab, "you wanted Eddie to take point on the accessories display right?"

"Who?" Santana's eyebrows furrowed slightly as she shuffled through the assignments roster on her tablet.

"His last name is Simmons," Brittany amended, Santana always called him by his last name.

Santana looked back up from the list, "Yeah, why?"

"John Campbell asked me," Brittany shrugged, "and that's what I told him. I just wanted to make sure I was right."

"Why did he ask you?" Santana quirked an eyebrow and Brittany couldn't tell if she was amused or annoyed at the idea.

"Probably because you weren't in the area," she watched the people around them continue to work, "or he's scared of you."

Santana laughed at that, and a few people stopped their work to glance over. It seemed like they weren't used to Santana in any sort of good mood. "He should be, but if you get any more questions and you don't know, just call me okay? I'll always pick up for you."

"Good to know," Brittany smiled warmly.

"This place probably looks like a mad house," Santana took a moment to look around while no one needed anything from her. This would give the guys in the lab a few more minutes to prepare for her inspection, and she really just wanted to talk to the blonde.

"I think it's awesome," Brittany admitted, "I love the energy."

"Yeah," she sighed, with a hopeful smile, "it's pretty cool when everything is going right."

"As long as you're in charge," Brittany joked lightly, a flirty quality to her tone, "everything will be fine."

"Shut up."

As she glanced away, trying to hide her blush, Santana paused, noticing a woman she's never seen before. She was small, and Asian, and struggling with a two boxes of flies. She was wearing a lanyard around her neck that identified her as a floor clerk, which would explain the boxes, but not the reason that she was standing there struggling as Josh Coleman spoke to her. He was leaning casually against a cubical wall, and altogether too predatory for Santana's liking.

"Hey," Santana met Brittany's eyes for a moment, "I'll be right back, hold this for me?"

"Alright," Brittany looked curious, but took Santana's tablet and didn't ask.

Santana moved quickly and with a purpose. Smoothly she walked up to the woman, who was surprisingly shorter than herself, and took one of the boxes from her, "There you are, we've been waiting for these files."

"Oh! I um," the woman stuttered, surprised at Santana's forwardness. She glanced at Coleman, "Please excuse me, Mr. Coleman, but I have to get back to work."

Coleman, who had been in a glaring contest with Santana since she had arrived, almost didn't even hear her, "Right, well, that offer still stands. Whenever you're interested."

"I'll um, keep it in mind," she readjusted the box in her hands, now significantly lighter without the one Santana had taken.

"I would keep your offers, and anything else you might be spreading around, to yourself," Santana spoke under her breath but loud enough for him to hear. "And get the fuck off my floor."

He bristled, and Santana watched his eyes skate around the area. There were too many people in the around for him to cause a scene, and they were already drawing attention. With one final look of contempt, he turned on his heel and walked away. Santana watched him go with a small sense of accomplishment before looking towards the woman, "So, where are we going with these?"

She ducked her head, shuffling the box to one arm so she could adjust her vintage wayfarer glasses. She seemed nervous, "Miss Lopez, you really don't need to—I can get them myself, it's no trouble."

"You might as well just tell me where we're going," Santana gave her a casual half shrug, "because I'm not giving you this box back. I don't know how long that jerk had you stuck here, but even this one box is heavy, you deserve a little help."

The woman glanced up to Santana with conflicted eyes.

Santana took a step in what she hoped was the right direction, "Call it professional courtesy."

The shorter woman gave a puff of laughter and started moving in step with the Latina, "It's the first I've seen since I've started working here."

"How long ago was that," Santana asked conversationally, "I haven't seen you around, at least not on this floor."

"Not too long, maybe a month and a half, I usually work in Marketing," she explained after a brief hesitation, "but someone called in sick and we needed to cover down."

"I don't envy you," Santana frowned, "I hate everyone in that department."

"Trust me," she sent Santana a sideways smile as they walked into a storage room. "I know what you mean."

"Hey," Santana's voice became a little serious as the door behind them closed, leaving them alone with a room full of files, "what's your name?"

"Sunshine," she dropped the box on the appropriate shelf and came to take Santana's, "Sunshine Corazon. It's a weird name, I know, but my mother loved it."

Santana laughed lightly, "Don't worry, I've heard some weird ones, but listen," she held onto the box as Sunshine tried to take it, "things around here can get a little... inappropriate if you know what I mean, and if there was something you needed, my office is always open."

"I'll keep that in mind," Sunshine's eyes met Santana's with a curious humor. She knew exactly what she meant, and was almost amused that Santana had brought it up. She tugged the box out of Santana's hands, "and I'm not lying this time."

Santana nodded, because that's all she needed to say, "I'm glad, it was nice meeting you, Sunshine."

"You too, Miss Lopez."

Walking out of the storage room, Santana found Brittany's eyes from across the floor immediately, because Brittany had been watching the door since she disappeared through it.

"I'm sorry," Santana ran a hand through her hair, not really sure why she felt guilty about leaving Brittany to play savior to a complete stranger.

"Because you're obviously into Asians?"

"I am not—" Santana stuttered, a deep flush coming over her face.

"I'm kidding," Brittany bit her lip to keep from giggling. "I know that you were playing interference with that man. I don't like him, he creeps me out."

"Yeah, me too," Santana took a deep breath, clearing the blush from her face.

"How long has she been working here?" Brittany asked a little seriously. She caught Sunshine's eyes as the woman walked out of the storage room, pushing a cart full of printer paper.

"About a month," Santana repeated, taking back her tablet and figuring out what else needed to be attended to right now.

"Her name?"

"Sunshine Corazon," Santana smirked, "I'm not sure if that beats Holly Holiday, but it's close."

"She told you that was her name?"

Santana glanced at Brittany curiously before answering, "Yeah, Britt."

Brittany made a small noise of interest, her eyes following Sunshine through a pair of double doors.

"Please don't tell me you're like," Santana didn't really know how to put this politely, "threatened or something like that."

Brittany burst into laughter, waving off Santana's question with an honest smile, "Oh my goodness, no. Not about what you're thinking anyway."

Santana was about to ask another question, but her phone rang, she sent Brittany an apologetic look before answering the call. The call only lasted a moment and Santana was already on the move, "I have to go upstairs for some corporate crap. I'll meet you back here for lunch?"

"Of course," Brittany nodded, she waited until Santana left the floor before she made her way to the double doors she had been eying a moment ago.

Curious, she was curious, and maybe just a little threatened.