"What's the score?" Santana calls over to Brittany from where she's sat on the steps leading up to the back door of the Puckermans' house - both herself and Puck panting heavily as they look to Brittany expectantly from where they stand on the makeshift basketball court.

Brittany nervously looks up at them from the paper she's supposed to have been marking the score onto. Instead of tallies, however, she's drawn cartoon bunnies in business suits.

"Um… Santana wins."

Santana laughs and throws her fists skyward in celebration.

"Suck it, bitch! What'd I tell you? What'd I tell you would happen?"

Puck looks befuddled, throwing his own hands up, though in exasperation.

"What?! I swear I pulled it out in those last 23 points. Let me see that paper, Brittany!"

Santana steps up to him before he can move towards Brittany, glaring up at his sweaty mass.

"What, you think Britts can't handle writing some numbers on paper? What do you think she is, stupid?"

Puck scoffs and swings his arms around as he speaks,

"No, obviously I don't think she's stupid. I think she's fudging the numbers cause she likes you better!"

Brittany tilts her head with surprise, a smile overtaking her face.

"Oh wow, nobody has ever accused me of being shady before! Everyone usually thinks I'm too dumb to be shady."

"Sure, Brit. I think you're shadier than Jeff Bezos' tax returns."

Brittany ducks her head to hide a blush.

"Aww. Thank you, Puck. That's, like, super sweet."

Puck smirks and steps toward her, holding his hand out expectantly.

Brittany looks down at it guiltily, but hands him the scorecard anyway.

As soon as his eyes scan the page, he groans out,

"Dude, seriously?"

Brittany nods sullenly.

"You were right to not trust me."

Santana reaches for the paper herself.

"B, what the heck?"

Brittany shrugs.

"I got bored after the first five minutes and decided to stop taking score."

"I can see that, B."

Brittany gets up so she can point the drawing out to Santana from over her shoulder.

"But look! I drew bunnies in business suits! It's funny because those are people clothes."

Santana rolls her eyes, but can't stop a laugh.

"You're ridiculous, B."

"No, the bunnies are ridiculous! It's like he thinks he's people or something. What kind of business would bunnies do?"

Puck, cuts in, now over the lost results.

"The same kind of business as everyone else. Bow-chicka-wow-wow!"

He hums as he thrust his hips rhythmically.

Santana cups her hands around her mouth and shouts,

"Boo!"

Puck just shrugs it off and hops up the steps into his house.

"Whatever. I gotta pee."

As Puck goes inside, Santana takes her own seat on the steps, looking down at Brittany's business bunnies, though now without the mirth from before. As a matter of fact, now there isn't much in the way of recognizable emotion in her eyes. At this moment, Santana is as distant as a reality in which bunnies actually did do business - And Brittany, being Brittany picks up on that. As well as so much more.

"How is therapy going?"

Santana groans, handing the drawing over to Brittany as she sits beside her.

"How do you do that?"

Brittany shrugs, then laying her head down on Santana's shoulder.

"I dunno. I just know."

"Then you already know that it went badly. I mean, I'm glad Quinn was able to, you know, like say all the shit that's been bugging her… But knowing that she thinks about fucking choking me out on the daily isn't exactly comforting."

"You know she doesn't mean it."

Santana grits her teeth and buries her face in her hands.

"Yeah, I know."

"And we both know that's not what's really bothering you. She never said it out loud, but you always knew."

"Yeah, but it's different to hear it out loud."

"But you still know that she would never actually do those things. And you know she wants to die when she thinks stuff like that."

She does. And while it may have come as a shock to hear the kinds of things Quinn thinks about sometimes, Santana can't bring herself to be upset at her about them. Quinn hates herself enough as it is, she doesn't need Santana piling onto her about it too - especially considering Quinn is the one who insisted they go to therapy in the first place.

"So why don't you tell me what's actually bothering you?"

Santana chuckles humorlessly.

"Why bother? You already know, don't you?"

Brittany shrugs again.

"I dunno. I, like, have suspicions. But you never know if you know know until you know. You know?"

Santana's brows furrow as she tries to figure that sentence out.

"I… don't know? I think?"

Brittany sighs.

"Like, I don't know if I know until you tell me. Like, I can think I know all I want, but until I know know, I don't actually know if I knew. Does that make sense?"

Santana stares at her blankly, bringing on the rare sight of Brittany being the one to roll her eyes.

"Just say the thing."

Santana turns back away from her best friend, unable to look her in the eye when she tells her the truth.

"I just… have this thought. I hate having it, and I want it to stop, but every time we go into therapy, or talk about it or whatever, I just think… if Quinn gets better… will she still want me?"

Forcing those last few words out of her mouth kills Santana, trumpeting through a thickened throat and dragging fat tears out of her with them. Brittany wraps her arm over Santana's shoulder comfortingly as the other girl keeps sobbing through her words.

"I mean she has every excuse in the world for being fucked up. She was raised by a drunken, abusive piece of shit! She had to deal with how everyone treated her when she was Lucy. She actually gives a damn about a religion that fucking rejects her! Of course she's not going to come out of all of that totally well-adjusted."

Brittany just nods lightly, rubbing Santana's arm up and down gently as she waits for the big thing to drop.

"I never had to worry about anything like that. I was born with a dick, and my family loves me. They've known for fucking ever that I'm gay and they love me. I don't really believe in god, so I don't care what some fucking pedos with collars think about me. No one has ever fucked with me at school or anywhere else, cause they know I won't have it. So why am I still so fucked up?!"

Santana curls in on herself.

"If Quinn gets better and then realizes that I'm still as fucked up as ever - and I don't really have any excuses for it… I can't lose her, B. It's like Rachel said, like, my entire life revolves around her. It always has. We've been best friends since we could fucking walk. She was the first person I told about my dick outside of my family. She's the first person I came out to. She was the first person I kissed. The first person I had sex with. She's always been first for me. Even last year when we weren't speaking, I still couldn't picture my future and not have her be there with me. And now we're having a baby, and I'm just thinking, like if I lost her? If I lost her and our baby girl…"

Santana digs her nails into her thighs, very nearly breaking the skin.

"I don't want to live a life without Quinn. I don't even know what that would fucking be. And I don't want to know."

"Dude, we need to get you a hobby."

The two girls turn sharply to look wide-eyed back at the screen door behind them where Puck is standing on the other side, looking at them through the mesh screen.

"What?"

Santana doesn't blink.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Hmm… You got a dick and a baby on the way? I miss anything?"

For a solid five seconds or so, the only sounds there are to be heard are those of Puck tearing the wrapper off a Popsicle and slurping it into his mouth.

"Sounds like you got the gist of it."

(A/N:)

Sup.