After their encounter at the coffee shop, Santana doesn't see Dr. Pierce—er, Brittany—for weeks. There's really no reason for her to. The number of her cases that involve the plastics department are so few and far between. There's no reason for Santana to keep thinking about her either. But she can't help it.
It's beyond her comprehension, why this woman crosses her mind at least once a day, but she absolutely does. Maybe it's that she walks past the daycare on her way to her office, and she thinks of that little boy. Maybe it's because she's never seen a woman so emotionally vulnerable, as Dr. Pierce was that afternoon in the coffee shop. Or maybe it's just because she's absolutely losing her mind. It's possible she should reconsider an evaluation.
She goes out with Kurt and Mercedes after work. She sees the girl that she hooked up, all those weeks earlier in the bar. Her stomach rolls a little at the sight of her, and she knocks back another bourbon. She's flirting with a girl Santana recognizes from Oncology, and the whole thing just makes her squirm.
"Total doctor fucker." Kurt calls the bartender over to refill Santana's glass. "Don't get all bent out of shape about it."
"I'm not bent out of shape. She can fuck whoever she wants, I'm mostly hoping she doesn't see me."
"Please, she's all over Corazon, you're so old news."
"Gee, Kurt, way to make her feel great about herself." Mercedes rolls her eyes and slides her beer bottle to the back of the counter. "I'm also in favor of her not seeing Santana. I hate the awkward run in with her hookups."
"Please. It was onetime, 'Cedes, let it go."
"One time that's permanently ingrained in my memory. Anyway, I'm team let's find Dr. Lopez a girlfriend."
"And I'm team Dr. Lopez doesn't want a girlfriend." Santana scoffs, stirring the new drink in front of her.
"No, shut up, I like the first team better." Kurt claps his hands, and Santana slams her hand down on the bar.
"No. I'm not kidding. Let it go."
Ignoring the look that Kurt and Mercedes share, Santana finishes her drink in silence. She's kind of done with being in the bar, and she's done with expectations from anyone, even the teasing ones of her friends. If she wanted to hear about how she should get a girlfriend, she'd call her mother. It doesn't matter how well anyone means, she's perfectly happy how she is right now. The last thing she wants is someone else to feel accountable to.
Throwing some bills on the bar, Santana says a quick goodbye to her friends. They'll stay all night, but she's just ready to go home. She's drunker than she meant to get, and seeing that girl reminded her of how shitty she'd felt a few weeks ago. Or, if she's telling the truth, how shitty she typically feels after any hookup.
Like she always does, Santana goes back into the hospital to get her things. She hates bringing them to the bar with her. The last thing she wants is for her briefcase to be sticky from a spilled drink, or smell like the smoke that clings to people's clothes when they come back inside from having a cigarette. Maybe she's particular, but that's fine. She has no one but herself to answer to, and she can be as particular as she wants.
After she grabs her bag and heads back downstairs, she sees her there, in the lobby. She sees Dr. Pierce, her own bag slung over one shoulder, a Thomas the Tank backpack on her back, and a sleeping child in her arms. It strikes Santana then, how vastly different their lives her. It strikes her, how just moments earlier, she'd been thinking of how she has no one but herself to answer to. And then there's Dr. Pierce, with the smallest big thing to answer to. It's a fleeting thought, but an intense one, nonetheless.
"Hello, Dr. Lopez." She waves a little, trying to keep the slumping child upright.
"Santana, remember?" Santana shrugs a little, hoping she's not slurring her words. "Colleagues."
"Right. Santana."
"Do you, uh, need any help with all that?"
"I'm fine. We do this every day…"
"Yeah, no, I mean, I get that. I just figured because I was standing here, or whatever, I could go get you a cab." Shifting awkwardly between feet, Santana pulls her hand through her loose curls. She doesn't know what it is about Dr. Pierce that makes her incapable of acting like a human being, but it makes her nuts.
"My car's in the garage. Still not quite used to this New York stuff. I always drove in Boston, and it's just easier with Liam, so…yeah."
"Oh, yeah, totally makes sense." Santana nods dumbly. "I mean, I'd drive, but that would mean I couldn't drink after work, and I never know what days I might need to, so…"
"Looks like today was one of those days then?" Intense blue eyes look her over, and Santana shivers with, something… Embarrassment, maybe?
"I guess so, yeah."
"Me too." Dr. Pierce cracks a small smile, and kisses the boy's head. "But I'll wait until he's tucked into bed before I open a bottle of wine."
"Sounds like a solid plan." There's a pause, and Santana considers what she'll say next. "Well, I should let you get home then. You sure you don't need any help getting to your car?"
"I think we're good. Thanks though. Goodnight, Dr.—Santana. Hopefully tomorrow is a better day for both of us."