"Are you crazy! How on earth could you have thought that was a good idea?"
"Stop yelling at me, Santana!"
"Why? You're yelling at me! And you demonstrated swearing abilities that I previously had no idea you were capable of when I dragged you out of there!"
"You were embarrassing me!" Rachel screamed. "It's my decision to -"
"Yeah, if you actually wanted to do it! But you didn't. You took something some idiot guy said to heart and decided that stripping," she spat the word, laughing at the pure absurdity of it, "would make you more comfortable with nudity. You don't have to do that, Rachel! You don't have to do things you're uncomfortable with just to make people notice you."
"How do you know what I have to do?" Rachel bit back. "And why do you even care?"
"Because I love you, you frakking idiot, and I don't want you to get hurt!"
The ensuing silence was somehow louder than the shouting had been. It spread out, and redoubled and muffled the sounds coming in from the street. Finally, Rachel whispered,
"What?"
"You heard me," Santana said calmly. "I'm going out for a while."
When she'd left, Rachel sat down heavily, mind racing. The chaos of her head kept clearing, leaving one thing at the front of her thoughts: Santana loved her. She curled up on the couch, and waited for the other woman to return.
