This is a fic that will update everyday until Valentine's Day 2017. To truly enjoy please put on (Sweet Sweet Baby) Since You've Been Gone by Aretha Franklin. :P

The phone had been ringing for about 45 seconds before Santana managed to untangle herself from the blanket, dig under one pillow (wrong one), another (another wrong one), and then finally flip herself upside down and slide a hand under a bed. It stopped ringing and she pulled it blurrily up to her face.

"Goddamit."

'One Missed Call' flashed harshly back at her. Of course, she should have been up. It was almost ten. But her job kept her up late most nights, and she'd gotten used to sleeping in, even on her days off. The call looked like it was from Mercedes, and she wondered what her friend would have to tell her in the middle of the day. She's rubbed a hand through her thick, dark hair. Mercedes had only been back in the States a couple of months, but they wanted her for a production of Dreamgirls. She'd killed it in the West End for the past year, and now investors were scrambling to get some of her talent across the pond. She smiled thinking about Mercedes. She was so proud of her. In the meantime, the rehearsals had been running her friend ragged. She barely had time to chat as opening night got closer, but Santana had understood. She was about to call Mercedes back when the phone began ringing in her hand. She nearly dropped it again, before getting her bearing, and pressing Accept.

"'Cedes!" She cleared her throat to get rid of some of the froginess and tried again. "Mercedes, what's going on, girl? How are rehearsals?"

"Hey Santana, sorry to wake you up."

There was a note in Mercedes' voice that concerned Santana a bit, but she brushed the feeling off and went on.

"Yeah, no worries, it was about time I got up anyway. How are things?"

"Um, yeah, things are good here, busy, you know."

"Yeah." Santana frowned. This was certainly not the way her conversations with Mercedes usually went. She was used to an engaging, excited person on the other side, not whatever this was.

"Mercedes-" Santana continued. "There's something you're not telling me, but you want to tell me. What is it?"

There was a long pause, and Santana looked at her phone a few times to make sure that she hadn't dropped the call. She was about to ask Mercedes if she was still there, when her friend's voice cut through the silence, insistent yet gentle.

"She's seeing someone."

The pause became a heavy quiet, and Santana nearly did drop the phone. She swallowed, and swallowed again, trying to get her voice, but she couldn't seem to make anything come out. She didn't have to ask for clarification. Mercedes didn't have to say another word, she knew who the "she" was.

It was Brittany.

"How do you know?"

"I called her the other day, and it sounded like there was a voice in the background. I asked who it was, and she said no one, but it sounded like a guy, and it wasn't Mike, I know that for sure. Then Sugar said Britt had to reschedule their lunch date because she was meeting someone. I don't know if it's casual, or she just doesn't want us to know, but something is going on there, San, and I thought you should know from one of us before you read the wedding announcement in the paper or something."

Mercedes seemed to be rushing through her words, and said the long speech in what seemed to be one breath. Now she paused and waited for Santana to respond. After a few moments of silence, it was Mercedes turn to be worried.

"Santana?"

There was a small cough, and then a voice. "Yeah, yeah, I'm here. I'm, um, wow."

"It doesn't mean she's dating them, you know, just seeing them. It just means that she's, you know-"

"Over me."

"We don't know that, San." Mercedes rushed to comfort her friend. She could hear the despair in her voice. She was worried about what Santana might do. "Santana, what are you thinking?"

There was another pause, and Mercedes wasn't sure that Santana would reply.

"I'm thinking that you were right."

"Huh?"

"I mean, all those months ago. You begged me to call her. You told me what to do, how to make it right, but I didn't listen."

"But how does that help you now?" Asked Mercedes.

"I'm coming to New York."

"Today?" Her friend's shock practically vibrated through the phone.

"Well, I've gotta get rid of this apartment first, but as soon as possible."

"Wait…" More confusion. "You're moving here?"

"Well, duh. It's what she wanted all along, and I'm just mad at myself for waiting so long." Santana was up off the bed and throwing clothes this way and that, sorting through the chaos.

"Maybe you should spend some time thinking about it, Santana."

"No need. I've thought about it for too long, to be honest. I've gotta get her back, Cedes. I can't do this anymore. I love her."

This seemed to satisfy Mercedes. "Oook. So, where do we start?"

Santana smiled. Even in high school Mercedes had always been there for her. She was glad (and a little relieved!) to see that nothing had changed.

"Leave that to me. I'll be in touch. See you, Mercedes. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Santana. Just don't do anything crazy."

"Oh, come on. When was the last time I did anything crazy?"

\

"This is crazy, Santana. You realize that, right?"

Kurt had shown up after Santana called him for a favor. But he'd prepared himself for some sort of fashion based emergency, not to show up at Santana's place and find it covered in moving boxes. Then she'd dropped the bomb on him. She was moving back to New York immediately and needed him to move into her place.

"Come on, Kurt. This is a golden opportunity for you. You keep telling me how you want to get out from under your roommate. How he's always bring guys home and you have to figure out how to make small talk with them in the kitchen the next morning." She gestured around them. "Look at this! Embarrassment free mornings for as long as you want."

"I know that, Santana, and your place is fine, but, I mean, c'mon. Your landlord can't be on board with this."

"Who, Rhonda? No, Rhonda loves me. She was practically there at the Stonewall Riots and loves her baby gays. We are tight. It'll be fine."

"Really?" Kurt didn't sound quite convinced but he was getting there. He picked up a t-shirt that was draped over a nearby box, and rolled it into a ball, nervously. "So, what are you going to do when you get there? She's still pretty upset about the whole thing, huh?"

Santana busied herself with a box and nodded. "Yeah. I guess- I guess I didn't try hard enough. I didn't show her she was worth it because I was too stubborn. I let her go when I should have held on with everything. I was an idiot."

Santana might have expected some commiseration but wasn't surprised by Kurt's response.

"Well, duh. Britt is pretty sweet, Santana. You must have said some awful things and you were dumb not to apologize."

"I said that, already." Santana snapped.

"Well, I'm just agreeing."

"You don't have to agree so enthusiastically, then."

Kurt put up his hands. "Fine, fine. I'm just saying. But what's the plan, I mean, you can't just show up in New York and everything will be how you want it to be."

"You let me worry about that. So, what do you think about the apartment? Will you take it?"

Kurt stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Are you sure it's okay?"

"Scout's honor." Santana raised three fingers in a scout salute.

"Santana, were you even a girl scout?" Kurt said.

"Well, no, but I made out with my fair share, so I'm sure there's some transference."

Kurt threw his rolled up t-shirt ball at Santana, hitting her in the face. He flinched fully expecting her to come rocketing at him, but she only pulled down the shirt, folded it, and smiled.

"Well, you're certainly not acting like someone who's upsetting her life to fly across the country on a whim, Santana."

"That's just it, Kurt!" Santana said enthusiastically. "I don't feel uncertain at all. I'm not worried, I'm not scared. For the past year, my stomach has been tied up in knots. I always felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff, but now, I feel like I'm finally back on solid ground."

"Because Britt is dating someone?"

Santana's eyes narrowed dangerously. "No, [Insulting Kurt nickname]. That's just the catalyst that's making me realize how much she means to me. How much it would kill me to lose her." Her voice became softer and she gazed out the window wistfully. "A part of me was scared. I was always so scared. And this feels like, I don't know, like the fear has just gone away. I don't have to be scared anymore, cause I know what I have to do."

"And what do you have to do?"

Santana seemed to think about this for a second. "I need to show her that I deserve her again. I need to show her that I'm worth it. If she sees that, if she knows…"

She trailed off.

"Maybe you two just need to sit down and have a good long talk."

Santana pulled an empty box out from under a stack. "Yeah, maybe. "Help me pack this place up, Kurt, or you're never moving in."

Kurt grumbled in protest but got up anyway, grabbing the box from Santana's hands, and a roll of tape. "Fine. The sooner you get out of here, the sooner this place is mine. And I can move out from under Blaine the Pain."

"That's the spirit, Twinkle toes."