Chapter 7

A/N: short chapter today, had a rough few days plus I have a bit of an injured jaw (yay to car doors in gusts of wind!), so I haven't been able to write an awful lot! Also been in and out 24/7 since Sunday as we kinda have a storm here (by UK standards, anyway) and our fence went down, my dogs keep wanting to visit the neighbours, the neighbours don't wanna see them… you get the idea… anyway, just not had a proper time to write properly! Anyway, we're back now, next chapter will hopefully be up by the end of the week!

"So, you look like shit."

Quinn tossed her her lighter once she'd lit her own cigarette so that the latina could light hers. Smoking wasn't something she'd ever really done as a habit. It was more of a social thing, really. Whenever she was at a party she'd smoke, or whenever she was really stressed she'd smoke, but it wasn't really a 'this many a day' sort of thing. She knew that her mom probably knew about her smoking, and she probably hated it, and she knew that Brittany didn't like her doing it.

The first thing Quinn had done when she'd got inside, alongside Sugar and Mercedes (thank the lord Rachel hadn't been invited because she couldn't think she could bear the thought of spending time with her right now, and Tina had been apparently but she was going on a date with Mike or something), was flash her pack in front of her with a small, sorry smile, and they'd ended up on the Pierce's driveway.

"Didn't realise you still smoked, Q."

It wasn't with malice or bitchiness or whatever, more out of pure curiosity. And also to deter the conversation from going to her right away, which seemed the way it was heading.

"Yeah," the blonde laughed. "It's harder to quit than I thought it would be. But it's almost a pack less a day than it was over summer, so that's a start."

Santana scoffed. "How many packs a day were you smoking back then? Four?"

Quinn smiled, flicking the ashes on the floor.

"I don't think I'll ever stop properly, y'know?," she replied. "I mean, yeah, fewer would be better for the bank. And my relationship with my mom. She doesn't like me doing it. But she's kinda cool now. She's been happier and less uptight than dad left her two years ago, and he doesn't want to see me anymore anyway. I don't care."

There were a few minutes of silence, neither girl speaking as they smoked. Santana kind of liked it that way. No talking meant that there was no interrogation, or pity or questioning. She'd always thought that silence was the enemy, a symbol of loneliness or something, but here on the driveway considering everything that had happened over the past few days, it was very welcome.

"So, I assume Brittany told you that the ad was running tonight."

The latina shook at the word, it chilling her to the core. Quinn seemed to realise this quickly.

"I'm sorry. I-" she paused again, not sure what to say, "I was wondering how you were dealing. Like… you tell me, not me tell you what I think."

Santana looked down at the floor, slumping against the outside wall.

"I don't want to talk about it, Quinn. Please, just one night…"

"Santana, you can't just ignore it," she responded. "The ad is literally airing tonight. I'm sorry, but you have to deal with it. Everything's gonna change. Have you even told your parents yet?"

The latina shuddered, tears threatening her once again.

"Please, Quinn…"

The blonde seemed to get the idea, falling silent for a couple.

"This is only the start of it all, Santana," oh, great, Quinn was now using her mom-voice. She had a child, put it up for adoption, but still gained that 'parenting' tone she used with people and she was using it right now. "You're already falling apart, whether you care or not, and it's going to get a whole lot worse. You can't keep pushing us away, you know that."

Santana felt sick again and she felt a shoot of pain go up her wrist, but she tried not to show it, and ducked her head just in case Quinn would pick up on the way Santana knew her face was draining of blood.

Things are going to get worse. They were going to get worse and they were already this bad.

She put out her cigarette, despite the fact that only half was done.

"I'm going back inside. See you in there when you're done fucking up your lungs."

"Santana, stop-"

A hand caught her around her wrist quickly, causing the brunette to wince in pain as fingernails grazed the covered area, and she turned around quickly. She looked straight at the blonde, who was stood there with concern and confusion on her face, giving her a shrug and a look which screamed, "what the fuck are you going to say, then?" on her face.

"What was that for?"

The brunette shrugged. "You didn't have to grab me like that."

Dread filled her when she realised that Quinn just wasn't buying it. She stared straight at her for a few moments.

"You know that you can talk to me, right? About anything?"

Santana bit her lip.

She knew. She was sure that Quinn knew now. She was clever, she had this intuition to her, almost as good as Santana's own intuition, she could feel it.

She couldn't tell Brittany. Brittany couldn't know about this.

Still, she stared, shuffled a bit, feeling her heart in her throat as blood rushed through her ears, not sure what else to do or say or anything.

"Are you done?"

A/N: yay to keeping the Glee fandom alive.