Author's Note: Thank you guys all so much for your reviews! Sorry it's been so long since I've updated, I've just been drowning in all kinds of Brittana feels, fansliding, and drowning a little more. How about all of that magic, huh?
I'll try not to make you all wait so long for the next update :)
Immediately upon speaking those words, Brittany pulled her lips into her mouth, biting down hard with her front teeth. Being around Santana made her feel like she was living in some kind of alternate universe, a universe where instead of carefully measuring every word she spoke, her every thought bubbled out of her mouth. She had the sneaking suspicion that if she continued to exist on that alternate plane, it wouldn't be long before she was spilling that sometimes she didn't understand what people were talking about because she was so likely to mix up words, or that on occasion, she found herself confusing Mercedes Jones for the transgendered kid in her European History class (and she really didn't mean it to be offensive, yet another reason why she didn't speak often, her mind just raced so fast that a lot got jumbled). At the thought of Mercedes, Brittany's eyes snapped back up to meet Santana's. She did trust Santana, she trusted her when she said that the other girl could be trusted, but she know that she couldn't let another person in. Just letting Santana in had tilted the world on it's axis, and she was definitely sure that wasn't one of her powers.
"You feel it too." Santana murmured. "I'm not crazy."
"I do." Brittany confirmed, because she couldn't lie to her, especially not when she was questioning her sanity on one thing Brittany knew wholeheartedly. "You're not."
"I don't understand it Brittany. I just don't understand why I've had exactly four conversations with you in my entire life, this one included, and yet I feel like I know you. I mean, I wasn't even sure you liked girls until like, yesterday, when you said...you know, but Mercedes kept saying you were always checking me out, and...ugh. Mercedes."
"Yeah." Brittany said quietly, Mercedes, Brittany couldn't let herself get distracted by feelings and strange magnetic pulls. This was exactly the reason that she couldn't get involved with Santana. Her mind got too cloudy, and God, thinking about wanting to kiss her and touch her and have tiny little half human-half alien babies with her was keeping her from the task at hand. "Let me figure it out."
"No." Santana put her hands on her hips, feeling like all she'd been doing in the nineteen-hours and four minutes since she's been shot was argue. Argue with Mercedes, argue with Brittany, and most of all, argue with herself. "Whether or not you want me involved, you don't get to decide anymore. I'm vested in this, this is all happening because you chose to save me, and now I'm choosing to help keep you safe."
"Santana." Brittany tried, and then watched a dark eyebrow raise in challenge. "Quinn is not going to like this."
"Does Quinn like anything? Because you three come into the diner at least four afternoons a week, and I've never seen her do anything but glower and put an obscene amount of hot sauce on sweet potato fries, which, by the way, is disgusting. At least you put it on regular fries."
"Umm." While trying to keep her heart from pounding out of her chest at the fact that Santana noticed how she ate her French fries, even before she'd saved her life (cool it, Britt, she noticed Quinn too, she'd reprimanded herself), she attempted to think of something to say, but really, there was nothing that came to her mind besides yelling at Brittany, telling Sam to grow up, and blowing up cacti in the desert to let off steam, none of which she figured Santana would like to hear.
"That's what I thought. I'm all in. Even if you say we can't kiss, or figure out what this pull is between us, I'm a part of this now, the first human member of your Alien Alliance."
"You say that like it's a club you can just join."
"I didn't join, I was initiated." Brittany caught the teasing lilt in Santana's voice, and the way her hand moved, possibly subconsciously, to her clothed stomach.
"The way you're talking about this doesn't sound like I have much of a choice."
"I can be very persuasive." Santana chanced a wink, coaxing small laugh, covered by a glare, from Brittany. "Look, I've lived in this town forever, I'm influential because of my name, and it was Hummel who drove my mom to the hospital when I was born because my dad was out of town at a pickle convention, or something. I was born knowing the ridiculous politics of this place, and the minute I grew boobs, I learned how to fly under the radar of them when I need to. I'm pretty useful."
"Fine. But if things get dangerous, I want you as far from any of this as humanly possible."
"Nice choice of words."
"Not a joke."
"So we're going to figure out what to do about Mercedes together?"
"Seems like it." Brittany sighed, butterflies erupting in her stomach both in terrified anticipation and in excitement that Santana Lopez actually wanted to be involved in this thing that made her feel like such a freak and an outcast. "Not here though. We still have to pretend to be normal, Santana, and I really need to have Sam and Quinn involved too. This effects all of us. You need to go to cheerleading, and I'll pick you up with them after, okay?"
"With Sam and Quinn?" Santana stumbled a little bit over her words, and tried not to show her anxiety about that to Brittany.
"Alien Alliance, remember?" Brittany teased just slightly, but kept her face serious. If Santana really wanted to be involved, it had to be with all three of them, not just her. Her brother and her, well, her Quinn, wouldn't really accept it any other way (if they accepted it at all).
"Right. Okay."
After two grueling hours of cheerleading practice under the tyranny of Coach Roz Washington, Santana was still a bundle of nerves as she waited for everyone to leave the locker room so she could shower without anyone looking at her body (she knew she was hot, and she always felt the glances of the other Cheerios who were wont to experiment). By the time she'd finished and threw up a pair of denim shorts that made her ass look fantastic and a top slightly longer than what she'd normally wear, careful to cover up the slowly fading mark on her skin (which, admittedly, she was strangely sad about), she had only a half hour until Brittany was supposed to be picking her up at school. Part of her thought maybe she was a complete fool for wanting to be a part of this, not because she didn't trust Brittany implicitly, but because knowing that Sam Pierce and Quinn Fabray could probably kill her with a single glance absolutely terrified her. But the stronger part knew she was safe with Brittany, knew somehow that she'd do whatever it took to protect her, even if it was from Sam and Quinn. At 5:30, she was standing outside the school, one hand clasping tightly to her phone, counting both the hours since she'd been shot and the number she had left to give Mercedes answers, while the other was stuck in her back pocket. Her heart leapt for two entirely different reasons when a silver Prius pulled up, and Brittany rolled down the window from the backseat.
"Are you ready?" She asked, and Santana offered her a hesitant smile before climbing in beside her.
"Hi." She mumbled to Brittany, then darted her eyes to the front seat where Sam was in the driver's seat and Quinn sat beside him putting on eyeliner. "Uh, hi."
"Hey." Sam offered, not sounding all that terrifying, but Quinn didn't say a word, and Santana found herself swallowing hard as she received a glare in the rear view mirror.
"Thanks for picking me up."
"As if we had a choice." Quinn muttered angrily, and Brittany slapped the back of her head rest. "Just drive, Sam."
The car ride to the destination that was unknown to Santana was awkwardly silent, with the exception of some eighties rock playing over the radio. Brittany kept offering Santana small smiles, and she latched onto them, trying to let the other girl's presence calm her in the midst of icy glares from the passenger seat and frantic steering wheel tapping from the driver's side. As they drove deep into the desert, Santana could hear her own blood rushing in her ears. Finally, they reached a vast expanse of emptiness, and she squinted her eyes, wondering if there was something she was missing.
"What, are you expecting a ship or something?" Quinn snarked. "We're just going to do this on our turf, away from the town where you reign."
"Um. Okay." Santana's voice cracked, nerves getting the best of her.
"I'm sorry." Brittany mouthed to her, and Santana gave a tentative smile.
Getting out of the car, Santana uncomfortably shifted her weight between feet, and Brittany immediately stood at her side, directly across from where Sam and Quinn stood. The gesture meant more to Santana than she could comprehend, and her fingers itched to reach out and take Brittany's hand. It was yet another thing she didn't understand, physical contact (well, that kind of affectionate physical contact) wasn't really something she did, but her whole being ached for closeness with the blonde. Knowing that she couldn't do what she wanted, she instead settled for placing a hand on her hip, letting just the very tips of her fingers land where she knew the mark blazed.
"So tell me, Lopez." Quinn hissed, and Santana really, really hoped that she didn't have some sort of alien venom in her voice that could kill her on the spot. "Why are we supposed to trust you?"
"Quinn-"
"Nope, Brittany. You've had your turn, now I get mine. Fair is fair, right? You want me to trust her, I need to hear the words from her mouth."
"Because Brittany saved me." Santana lowered her eyes, unable to look at the seemingly unearthly glow that radiated from Quinn's in the waning sunlight, especially when there was more she wouldn't say. "I wouldn't ever do anything to hurt her."
"And us? I think you're forgetting that in all of this stupidity, my idiot friend, sister, whatever, gave you all the ammunition you need to take me and Sam down with three little words."
"I don't know why you hate me so much. Or why you think I hate you."
"Psht." Quinn spit, but didn't elaborate on what exactly that sound meant.
"Look, I don't know you. I don't really know any of you." She chanced a glance at Brittany, that one look saying how desperately she wanted to know her. "And maybe I act like a bitch sometimes, but I've never done anything to you, and I don't see what I'd even have to gain by revealing your secret."
"How about a one way ticket out of this cow town?" Quinn cocked an eyebrow. "That's all you want, isn't it Santana? I way to escape from your boring, pathetic little life? You think you're keeping your big city dreams under wraps, wouldn't want to upset daddy dearest with the fact that you don't want to run his shitty diner when he croaks, but I know it's what you want. I'm sure people would pay big money for information about alien freaks. Could buy yourself a nice little apartment in New York and never look back."
"Do you really think I would stoop so low for money?" Santana gaped.
"Like you said, you don't know me, and I don't know you. Besides what I've gathered in twenty-four hours of research."
"Yeah, well, maybe you should research a little better." Anger boiled under Santana's skin. What if Quinn had convinced Brittany to think those things? She wasn't sure she could stand the taller blonde looking at her, judging her like that. With fury hot, she turned back to the car, ripping the back door open and leaning in.
"You want to know you can trust her and then you tell her that you're stalking her." Brittany stomped her feet, the moment Santana was out of earshot. "Trust works both ways, Quinn."
"Oh yeah, trust. That's why her browser history showed nineteen different searches on the '47 crash, and twenty-eight on you?"
"You broke into her house?"
"Quinn!" Sam gasped. "How is that being careful?"
"You two are unbelievable!" She turned away from them and stalked further out into the desert, blowing a cactus to bits in the process. "I'm the one who's not being careful."
"I just...I couldn't sleep." Santana said quietly, having come back with a turquoise bundle in her hands. "I needed to know more. Brittany, I swear, I just, I only know things about the crash that I've overheard in the diner, I never really thought about it before, and what I saw online, it's horrifying."
"Oh." Brittany was hurt, assuming Santana meant the rumors about mass carnage of U.S soldiers out at the site, the site not three miles from where they stood. "We aren't...I'm not."
"No, no." Santana took a step closer to Brittany and put a soft hand on her arm, eliciting yet another jolt between the two of them. The sensation caused Brittany to look up, and where she once again expected to see fear and disgust, she saw this strange compassion and sadness. "People, they're afraid of what they don't know. I understand why Quinn doesn't want to trust me. What I saw, whether any of it is true of not, is that there obviously wasn't any alien invasion, there were a few against an entire army, and /people/ are the ones who should be feared for what they did. I-I'm sorry."
"For what?" Brittany's voice was hushed, intimate almost, and Sam felt like he had to look away. A part of him immediately felt a burning desire to experience what the two of them were sharing, and against all he'd learned to believe, his own connection with his sister drew him into that circle of trust.
"I don't know. Just, for being a part of a race so cruel."
"You have nothing to be sorry for. You can't judge an entire people based on the reactions of a few."
"I wanted to give you this." Santana thrust the bundle into Brittany's hands. "There's a bullet hole in my dress. I want you to destroy it. I want to get the order pad for you too. I just, I swear I'll do anything I have to do to get it from Mercedes."
"What's that?" Quinn stomped back over to where the others were standing, interrupting what Brittany was going to say.
"Her uniform." Brittany didn't look up from where she stared down at the dress, her pointer finger poking through the hole as a shiver ran down her spine, thinking about how close Santana really had come to dying.
"What, now you're going to go dress up as an alien and work at the diner? Can't stay away from your girlfriend for five minutes?" Quinn rolled her eyes.
"God, you really are a huge bitch." Santana snapped, not even acting that the girl could destroy her with one glance. She'd spent less than an hour with Quinn Fabray, and she already couldn't stand the way every word that came out of her mouth was an attack. Maybe if it was just on her, she could have handled it, but the way she spoke to Brittany, this girl who obviously cared about her, it just wasn't okay in Santana's book.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me. I gave Brittany the uniform with the fucking bullet hole in it so it could be destroyed. I thought maybe it would help prove that I could be trusted, since if I really wanted to go to Hummel, I wouldn't willingly hand over the only evidence I had that something happened to you. But no, you take it as an opportunity to say something bitchy to Brittany. I want you to trust me, but I'll be damned if I just let you talk like that to her, or to me."
"Shit." Sam breathed to Brittany, who just nodded as she watched Santana with rapt attention, admittedly, a little turned on as the other girl stepped closer to Quinn with absolutely no fear.
"Just because Brittany decided to bring you into this, which, by the way, I'm completely against, but once again, she and Sam have no regard for me, doesn't mean I'm one of your cheerleaders and you can tell me what to do."
"I'm not trying to tell you what to do. I'm trying to help, and trying to show you that I can be trusted, but you're just being really aggressive for no apparent reason."
"Because it's all your fault this is happening!" Quinn erupted, raising a hand to Santana, which Brittany stepped in front of in a flash as Sam grabbed Quinn's arm.
"Stop it right now!" Brittany shouted, turning away from Quinn, once Sam had her under control. Santana was shaking a little bit, but trying very, very hard not to let it show. Once Brittany's eyes met hers, she visibly relaxed, and exhaled sharply.
For a few moments, no one moved. Sam held Quinn tightly by the arm, but even her features had softened, realizing what she'd done. She had no intention of using her powers against Santana, she just raised her hand in basic human instinct, ironically, to slap someone she felt threatened by. Of course, as soon as she'd done it, she recognized what it would have been perceived as not only by Santana, but by Brittany and Sam as well, and she realized the gravity of her mistake. Cautiously, she watched Brittany, who was staring at Santana with eyes full of concern, and Santana just shook her head nearly imperceptibly, a gesture that Quinn couldn't quite decipher the meaning of.
"I-" Quinn started.
"No." Brittany nearly growled. "You crossed a line. What the hell is wrong with you? Sam, get her away from us. Right now."
Without force, Quinn followed Sam away from the other two girls, and she looked back over her shoulder, meeting Brittany's angry eyes as one of the taller blonde's hands tentatively touched Santana's forearm.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She murmured, and Santana kept her eyes cast down to the sand below her feet.
"It's not your fault."
"It is though. She's angry with me all of the time, and you're just one more person she can take that out on."
"I shouldn't have antagonized her. I just don't like how she talks to you, and..." Santana trailed off, shaking her head.
"I understand if you changed your mind about being a part of this."
"No!" Santana shouted, surprised by her own outburst. "I want to. I do. I didn't realize what I was getting myself into with Quinn, but I trust you to keep me safe. And Sam too. I've never seen anyone move as fast as you both did."
Neither said anything for a long while. When Brittany finally took her eyes of off Santana, she looked out to where Sam and Quinn were, about a hundred yards out in the desert. Quinn's hands were balled into fists at her sides, and Sam was kicking the the ground. Their words were unclear, but it was obvious that Sam was yelling, and Brittany knew she had never seen Quinn look so defeated, like almost attacking Santana had caused some type of remorse to hit her. When Sam looked over at Brittany, she nodded at him, and he finished whatever he was saying and began walking back towards them. Quinn followed several feet behind him, never looking up from the string on her shirt that she worried between her fingers.
"Are you okay, Santana?" Sam asked, genuine concern evident on his face putting Santana further at ease.
"Yeah." She choked out, looking in Quinn's direction. "I'm good."
"Are you in control of yourself, Quinn?" Venom colored Brittany's words.
"I wasn't going to do anything to her. I was just angry, and I really don't like her."
"The feeling's mutual, Fabitch. But only one of us can explode the other with a nose twitch."
"Apparently, she was just going to slap you." Sam explained, and Santana quirked an eyebrow in borderline disbelief.
"I'm sorry." Quinn muttered, and both Brittany and Sam gasped, having never heard those words pass through her lips. "Whatever, I'm not going to make out with her, okay? You're not really my type, Lopez, and Brittany would probably explode me if I did anyway."
"Can we maybe stop talking about exploding now?" Santana shivered, but couldn't help feeling a little better that Quinn seemed to be joking with her or something. "Listen, I still stand by what I said that you can trust me."
"I kind of figured that when you didn't run away screaming." Quinn sniped, the brief softness gone from her voice.
"Well, two out of three of you protecting me seemed like decent odds."
"This doesn't mean we're going to be friends. This is a strategical alliance, exclusively."
"As head cheerleader, I'm well aware of those. And trust me, I wouldn't be friends with you if you were the last alien on earth." Santana snorted.
"Good. Glad we're on the same page then." Quinn rolled her eyes.
Brittany and Sam watched in utter shock at the exchange between Quinn and Santana. The lack of bite in Quinn's words startled them, and truth me told, given the events of the previous fifteen minutes, even Brittany was shocked that Santana wasn't halfway to the police station to tell her story. Again Brittany was gripped by that invisible tug to the brunette, and couldn't help but think that if Santana truly did feel the same thing, that she couldn't reveal Brittany's truth, even if she'd wanted to.
"So now that we've got that out of the way, I think we should start with the reason we're all here right now." Sam cleared his throat before speaking it out loud again. "Mercedes."
"You all know my vote on that." Quinn rolled her eyes.
"This isn't going to be a vote, it's going to be a discussion. Since you're the one watching everyone, why don't you tell us what you've seen." Brittany suggested, still regarding Quinn strangely.
"Hummel has been at the diner twice, trying to get her father to install security cameras and inspecting the walls. He's looking for the non-existent bullet hole and he's not going to let this go. Now that we have the dress, the only evidence that there was an actual shooting is that order pad, I say we steal it."
"Even if we do, Mercedes still knows we were there and that Santana lied. That will raise just as many red flags. He probably already figures if it was one of us anyway, we see him every time we're in the diner, and we just so happen not to be there that one day? He just needs someone to confirm that, and then his eyes will be on us even more than they've been for years." Sam sighed.
"So you're in favor of telling her the truth?" Brittany asked, surprised by Sam's choice. Although she'd told Santana she was against it, the truth was, she had pretty much known that was going to be the outcome. Of course, she'd expected it to be more of a challenge, and she'd expected that she would have had to be the one to suggest it after an excessive amount of discussion, not Sam almost immediately after they began.
"No fucking way. The two of you need to stop thinking with your dicks." Santana's eyes went wide at Quinn's words, and couldn't help but let her eyes flicker down to the crotch of Brittany's jeans. "Or metaphorical in Brittany's case. What, are we going to let in everyone either of you ever have a crush on? This will end so well."
"It has nothing to do with that." Sam protested, blush coloring both his and Brittany's faces as a small smirk appeared on Santana's lips. She knew Sam had a thing for Mercedes, and she sort of loved hearing it confirmed that Brittany had a crush on her. "I think it's the best solution. Unless you have a better idea. One that doesn't involve exploding."
"I never tried to explode anyone, is this going to be the thing now, forever? Brittany heals humans, Quinn tries to kill them? Pretty fucking typical."
"Oh, stop acting like such a victim all the time. Now isn't the time for you to start dealing with your Brittany issues."
"Um-" Santana cleared her throat, feeling a sense of familiarity in the human-ness of what was going on around her. "I'm obviously in favor of telling Mercedes. I know her. She's the most loyal person I've ever met. She's a much better friend than I am, and the only reason this is even happening is because she's terrified that something happened to me and she can't understand it. I think she'd be the best ally we could have."
"We." Quinn scoffed. "Well, obviously it is a vote, and once again, I'm outnumbered, since we know Brittany is going to vote with you two."
"Brittany has a mouth and a brain of her own." Brittany pulled her lip between her teeth, trying to contain her frustration. "And it's not a vote, it's just realistic, we don't have another option. Letting her go to Hummel isn't a choice. I would have heard you out if you'd given us some other way, Quinn."
"Whatever. I don't know why you even had me come out here."
"Because nothing has been decided. I wasn't even the one to suggest it."
"Only a matter of time."
"Give us another option. You said so yourself, Hummel isn't giving this up. If Mercedes is all too willing to talk to him, that does nothing but make it easier." Sam reasoned.
"You're going to do what you want anyway. I hope you have a backup plan when she loses her shit. This is not going to end well, and I swear to you, Brittany, if you start any of your glitter and rainbows positivity shit right now, I'm going to lose mine." Quinn turned away from them again, Santana's uniform still in her hands. She made it about thirty feet away from the others before they watched the dress burst into flames on the desert floor.
"She'll get over it." Sam told Santana, who's mouth had dropped open watching the haste in Quinn's movements. "She'll realize that there was nothing else we could do."
"I'm sorry." Santana whispered to Sam, but didn't take her eyes off of Brittany, something pulling at her heart as she witnessed the conflict in blue eyes. "I'm really sorry."
"You didn't ask to get shot." He shrugged. "Maybe this means something good can come from it for my sister."
"Sam." Brittany snapped, before Santana had a change to respond to those pregnant words. "Let's just figure out how we're going to do this, okay?"
"I think-" Santana started, and waited for the encouraging nod that Brittany gave her. "I think our best bet is for me to tell her, and for Sam to be there."
"Me? Why me?"
"Because you guys aren't the only ones who think with your dicks, metaphorical or otherwise." She snickered. "Also, if I tell her on my own with no...um, proof, she's going to think that I'm either totally fucking with her, or I've lost my mind completely. Neither of those outcomes are really going to work, are they?"
At some time during the discussion of plans for the next eighteen hours, Quinn wandered back over and kept on a disinterested scowl. Although Brittany put on a good game face, internally, she was feeling pretty distraught. Implicitly, she trusted Santana, and she knew that if she was telling them that Mercedes would be a good ally for them, then she believed it, but she couldn't help feel a nagging sense of dread. Mostly, she attributed it to Quinn, who's reactions were never the most rational, and Brittany typically didn't fight them, because it was easier that way. Brittany knew that the scowls and scoffs she directed at Santana were really meant for someone else, for her. Even the almost slap, or almost explosion, whatever that actually was, wasn't entirely meant for the dark haired girl. Quinn saw Brittany's face in the diner, Brittany knew that, she knew that in that moment it was obvious the reaction anything happening to Santana elicited a violent reaction from Brittany. Brittany knew that Quinn cared about her, even if she had a terrible way of showing it, and while she believed the other blonde wouldn't hurt Santana, there was no question in Brittany's mind that she'd use that fact to her advantage, especially while she was angry about the perception she had of her opinion being invalidated.
"Are you done?" Quinn snapped the moment she walked back over to the others. "I have shit to do."
"Quinn-"
"Don't, Brittany. Just don't."
"Fine." Brittany slumped, and she felt the faintest touch of Santana's fingertips on her lower back. "We're done. Sam and Santana are going to talk to Mercedes-"
"I actually don't care, but thanks for the update."
Huffing the entire way back to the car, Quinn got in the back seat, and Sam followed her, leaving Brittany to take the driver's seat and Santana to climb in next to her. No one said anything as they made the twenty minutes back into town, and Santana jiggled her leg nervously in the passenger seat. Her imagination began to run away with her as a deep sense of concern settled over her entire being. Flipping down the sun visor, she peered at Quinn in the makeup mirror there, the girl's icy stare never leaving the back of her head. If Santana was wrong, if telling Mercedes led to bad results, she wasn't sure anyone would be able to stop Quinn from doing something to her. Pushing the visor back up quickly to shut out the image of hazel eyes, Santana inhaled sharply, and looked over at Brittany, who's blue eyes focuses intently on the road ahead of them. Brittany didn't need to look at Santana to see the worry etched on her face, and somehow, like they'd been doing it for years on end, the blonde's hand moved without thought from the center console until her fingers were grazing just above Santana's knee.
At the contact, Santana had to contain a shudder, not wanting to startle Brittany from the contact that felt so natural, and so soothing all at once. After the initial moment of surprise, she felt her breathing slow, and her leg pressed up just slightly, letting the pads of Brittany's fingers press against her bare leg. Santana wasn't sure what was happening, or what would come next in their race against the clock, and their fight (be it real or perceived) against Sheriff Hummel, but in that moment, she was sure of one thing. She was sure that no matter how Brittany protested, no matter how Quinn complained, and no matter what came next in the larger picture, there was no way either of them would ever be able to stay away from one another, and something about that was more contenting than Santana thought she could believe.
Brittany didn't move her hand, not for the entire duration of the trip. She ignored the eyes burning into the back of her head, and she ignored the thought of Sam playfully badgering her about it later, she just absently let her fingers brush Santana's thigh, letting her instinct to reassure the other girl override all else. When they pulled up outside of the diner to drop Santana off, it was Sam who gasped first, seeing through the glass that Hummel stood with one hip resting against the counter, taking to Santana's father, while Mercedes hurriedly filled up his thermos with coffee. Santana squirms in her seat at the vision of the sheriff, back again, on her home turf, talking to the people she cared about with so much still up in the air.
"Well." She breathes, chills running down her spine for what seemed like the thousandth time that day. "I guess it's now or never. Plan's changed, looks like we're all going to be there for this one. Pull the car onto Sycamore and wait for me there. Mercedes' shift ends in five minutes, I'm going in to get her."
Before Quinn could protest (because of course it would be Quinn), Santana unbuckled herself and climbed out of the car. Combing her fingers through her hair and smoothing the fabric of her shirt, she took a final deep breath before walking through the double doors of the diner, hips swaying and flirty smile on her face, needing every source of disarmament in her possession before she once again came face to face with Hummel.
