I wanted to get this up before midnight, but better late than never. I hope you like the chapter. Also, there are a couple photos on my tumblr of the hotel rooms in question if you want some visuals to go with your reading. As always, I hope you like, you guys rock! As does my beta! Thanks a ton, Dray!

Enjoy! (and let me know what you think).

They stood in silence longer than Brittany had imagined they would. She watched as Santana's eyes dilated into a slate black. Maybe this was the wrong approach? Maybe it could've come out better?

But, how do you tell a person that you're privy to their darkest secret?

There was no proper etiquette, was there? There was no way to prepare for such...silence.

Santana hadn't spoken. Brittany expected madness and denial. She expected violence and maybe tears. Rage or heartbreak or both. She hadn't planned on standing still watching Santana as Santana stared through her.

A breeze traveled between the two of them once again reminding Brittany of how close the ocean was and that the crashing she was hearing in her ears wasn't Santana, it was the waves. The tranquility of it all rang like the most condescending tune. There was nothing peaceful about this moment.

"Santana?" Her voice cracked. From dehydration or compassion, she couldn't be sure. "It's okay, you know?"

She finally focused back on Brittany. Without a word, she kicked the door open with the heel of her foot and stepped backward into the room, nervously running her fingers through her hair. Brittany followed her inside, shutting them in and away from the world.

She followed Santana down a hallway they lead into a larger sitting area. The walls of the room had been slid open and gave way to a breathtaking view of the ocean. Brittany opened her mouth to break the silence and hopefully snap the mounting tension, but before she could utter a word Santana abruptly turned on her and disappeared into the bathroom. Alone and feeling smothered by the silence, Brittany shifted uncomfortably. Being here was harder than she could've predicted. She thought back to the conversation she had had with Bailey. Maybe she was too impulsive for her own good sometimes?

Resigning herself to whatever fate this night held, Brittany righted her posture. She would do her best to be understanding, she would do her best to hold her tongue when Santana's legendary temper showed itself and she would most of all do her best to prove to Santana that she wasn't fated to some misery because of her sexuality.

Moments later, Santana emerged from the bathroom. She looked different, somehow. Her eyes had turned cold and her jaws were firmly clenched. She ignored Brittany as she walked to the opening of the room and pulled one of the sliding doors closed.

"I can help you," offered Brittany.

"No."

She stopped in her tracks, gulping loudly. That one syllable held so much ice that she didn't dare move another itch.

Santana swiftly crossed the room and pulled the other door closed, locking it in place, effectively muting the ocean. She stood still her hand grasping the clutch. Brittany watched her body heave with a deep breath as Santana turned slowly around; her hands came to rest on her hips.

She looked through Brittany again.

Brittany watched as Santana licked her lips and took another deep breath to steady herself and with her right hand still resting on her hip, her left hand busied itself with untying her robe. She pushed it off her shoulders and it fell to the ground in a white satin heap. Her eyes refocused back on Brittany, unrelenting in their disgust. Brittany wished she would just look through her again.

"What are you doing?" She asked, her voice hoarse. She looked everywhere except in front of her and at Santana's body.

"You're not touching me in my bed. We can get this over with here or we can go to the jacuzzi. Take your pick."

Santana's voice was clinical and crisp; it didn't mesh with the way her eyes bore into Brittany.

She shook her head and forced herself to meet Santana's gaze, "That's not what I want."

"You want money?" She shrugged, "Fine. I'll write you a check when it's over. Now pick."

Brittany eyes dipped down as she registered a slight quiver in Santana's legs. Her eyes roamed up, skipping over important places to stop on her hands. They were shaking. From fear or nerves or humiliation, Brittany wasn't sure. The only thing she could be certain of was the aching in her chest had reignited at full force.

And that Santana's body was going to give out on her soon, if Brittany didn't do something.

She covered the gap in between them and walked behind Santana. She bent down and gingerly picked up the robe. It was so soft it slipped through her fingers; she had to clutch at it with her entire hand to keep from dropping it.

"Don't be scared..." Brittany whispered, "I'm just going to put this back on your shoulders, okay?"

As she draped the fabric across Santana's shoulders, her knuckles gently drug against Santana's flesh. Her soft skin was on fire.

"Put your arms through, Santana."

She didn't budge. Brittany tapped at her shoulders.

"I don't know what you want, Brittany."

Santana sounded so small it rattled Brittany to her bones. It was like she was realizing for the first time in her life, that she couldn't use her body to get her way and she had no idea what to do next.

"I want you to put your clothes on."

Santana stayed motionless. Brittany wondered if she was going to have to be forcibly clothed, but finally Santana's shoulders hunched as she stuffed her arm back into the sleeve of her robe. When her second arm was inside, Brittany let the robe fall back against Santana's back.

Clearing her throat, Santana quickly tied it back and power walked to the bottle of bourbon sitting on the coffee table. She poured herself a drink that was gone in seconds. She poured herself another, drank half and set the glass down on the table with a heavy clank.

Santana stared at Brittany, her expression unreadable. There was no anger or sadness, just an inanimate face and flushed cheeks.

"So money?"

Brittany cocked her head to the side quizzically, "I have money. You know that."

"Then what the fuck do you want, Brittany."

Her nostrils flared with her anger and the rouge in her cheeks darkened. Brittany stepped back as Santana stepped forward, toward her, bearing down. "You don't want to fuck. You don't want my money, yet you're here in my hotel room, effectively ruining my vacation."

She had Brittany's back against the wall, one step closer and their noses would be touching. Her chest heaved underneath her robe and the bourbon on her breath was so overpowering, Brittany had to squeeze her eyes shut for a moment to focus.

Still, even in her anger, Santana was breathtaking.

Brittany shrugged as she side stepped Santana and swallowed a gulp of air that hadn't been permeated completely with Santana's scent. It didn't work; her tongue tasted bitter and ever so faintly of Santana, fear and loathing.

The whole room smelled like fear and loathing.

"I wanted to talk to you."

"About what?"

Santana sat down on the couch, tucking her feet underneath her.

"I know you-"

Santana abruptly held up her hand, cutting Brittany off.

"Don't do that. Don't start talking as if you know me. You know one thing about me; you know a piece of me." Her hand dropped from the air and she wrapped it around herself. "Don't act as if you wrote the whole book."

"Why would I want to write that book?" Brittany scoffed. "It's been written a million times."

Santana's eyes widened clearly stunned at the bite in Brittany's voice.

"Your story's unremarkable," pressed Brittany.

"Fuck you."

Brittany's lips thinned into a line. She walked over to the chaise that was tucked into the corner of the room and sat on the edge. She stuffed her hands under legs as she dared herself to look back at Santana. Brittany thought if she stared enough she could numb herself to Santana's petrifying gaze.

"Why didn't you try and deny it?"

"Deny what?"

"Being gay."

Santana rolled her eyes, her top lip curling. "Please. It was only a matter of time before Noah got drunk and let it slip to you. Did he tell you about Emily?"

Brittany nodded. She thought for the faintest moment she saw something flash across Santana's face, but it was gone before she could place it.

"Do you still see her?"

"No."

"Why not?"

Santana's eyes narrowed. "Look. What do you want, Brittany?"

There was that question with no answer again. It echoed around the room, only to come back to smack her in the face. A yawn struggled past Brittany's lips. She clamped her hand across her mouth to stifle it. She hadn't realized how tired she was. She didn't bank on a vacation to paradise being so exhausting.

She grinned as an idea struck her like lighting against metal.

"One thing."

Cabo San Lucas, First Morning

She didn't slide her wall shut last night before she crashed into bed. She was still exhausted when she woke to sunlight warming her face. She'd never felt so out of place before. Inside, her stomach knotted and that same tugging at her heart pulled tighter. Reflexes caused her hand to shoot up and rub, but it elevated to nothing and she knew it wouldn't.

She was afraid to look at her phone. At last count she had forty two messages from Bailey. They started off calm and veered straight into chaotic. She wanted to know what the hell Brittany was doing in Cabo while they were in the middle of making a movie.

Brittany wished people would just stop asking her that.

She sent a text last night saying she was hunting Santana down to try and convince her to take the part. In reality, Brittany couldn't care less if Santana Lopez was in the movie or not. It stopped being about the film right after she popped Puck in the mouth.

Her one request to Santana had been not to run away in the middle of the night. She told Brittany that seeing as though she obviously had no choice, she would stay and after a sneered farewell Brittany was promptly kicked out of the villa.

She was half expecting Santana not to be there when she goes back. She'd be lying if she said a little piece of her didn't want her to be. But, that's only the part that still afraid to watch a scary movie by herself. It's the same part of her that caused her to check her door eight times before bed, even though she knows she's locked it. Maybe that's the part of her that's still a kid?

If so, then the kid inside of her is terrified that she won't be able to make Santana believe that everyone in this world isn't a piece of shit who just wants to use her to get rich or get off.

She dragged herself out of bed and ambled over to the suitcase full of clothes Rachel had overnighted. She could feel her face turn into a grimace as she pulled out plaid skirts and polo shirts in every pastel shade imaginable. She crammed the contents back in and righted her face as she glanced over her shoulders. Even in Mexico she could feel Rachel's presence hovering over her like a disapproving mother.

Freshly showered and back in the clothes she wore yesterday, Brittany ate breakfast on her balcony. The ocean was as blue as her eyes and the sun kissed her cheeks and the wind brushed against her body in a way that should be criminal. One day, on better terms, she would come back here.

Santana was there when Brittany ambled out of her room and over to her villa. The walls had been slid open again and Santana sat in the same spot she left her in last night on the pale yellow L-shaped couch. She was dressed in a tight blue dress and her hair has been pinned up at the top of her hair, tiny ringlets of curls framing her face. Her dark brown eyes were painted darker and they gave off that smoky look that had always made Brittany's stomach flutter. In a word, she was beautiful. If it wasn't for the way her lips pursed together and the always present rigid posture of her back, Brittany would have thought Santana was enjoying her vacation.

She gave her a meek wave as she entered inside. Last night, her eager need to be near Santana had been shadowed by the dark, but now in the daylight Brittany couldn't help but feel a certain embarrassment. Santana eyed her in that same caustic way, her eyes taking in the full length of Brittany's body sizing her up for the take down. She swings without warning.

"You were arrested when you were nineteen...Why?"

Brittany froze in her tracks as if hearing the news for the first time. When it registered that she already knew this she grinned and sat down on the couch, two cushions away from Santana. "If you know I was arrested, then you know why."

"You tell me."

Brittany shrugged. "I got stoned and I thought I could do a Pike flip off the couch."

She chuckled remembering. She had turned nineteen the day before and her parents had celebrated by getting so drunk they could barely stand. She had stayed the night at her girlfriend's parents' house.

Brittany wasn't uncomfortable knowing that Santana had obviously spent the night using her considerable resources to dig into her past. If anything the knowledge relaxed Brittany as she settled her back against the cushions. If Santana knowing every miniscule, unimportant detail of her life meant her not being threatened by the fact that she knew something she shouldn't about Santana, then she welcomed the third degree.

"And you couldn't land it?" asked Santana as she crossed and uncrossed her legs, her dress riding up to reveal a smooth expanse of toned thigh. Brittany's eyes darted away and out into the perfect Cabo day.

"My execution was flawless, thank you very much. I just...forgot how to walk after I landed and I fell into my girlfriend's parents China hutch." She let out a laugh. "Those plates were really expensive, which I never understood. Why would a person frame a plate? It wasn't even one of the cool Disney ones." Her smile sours, "Her mom called the cops. She was such a bitch."

"That..." intoned Santana, boredom clanging like church bells in her voice, "Is the lamest cop story I have ever heard." She raised her hand eye level and inspected her perfect manicure.

Brittany smiled. In the corner of her eyes she sees Santana's lip curve into a ghost of a smile. It's gone in an instant, but not before Brittany burns the memory of it into the deepest crevice of her mind.

"I was sixteen when I realized it."

They'd been sitting in silence for a solid hour. Brittany watched the waves rush in and out. Watched Santana pace from the bar to the couch. Watched her phone light up incessantly and the text messages fill up the screen before she finally turned off the phone.

She glanced over to Santana. She fingered the lip of her wine glass, her brow furrowed as if she was fighting to pull the memory back into the forefront.

Maybe it hurt her?

Brittany shifted on the couch. She tucked her right leg under herself as her left dangled to the floor.

"What was her name?"

"Who said there was a her?"

"There's always a her, Santana."

She watched as Santana fought the smile that forced its way against her mouth. She bit her bottom lip to contain it, but the damage was done already. Brittany smiled with her and wider when she realized that Santana's cheeks were turning the faintest red.

Santana shrugged as if she was trying to downplay the situation, "Her name was Allison."

"Allllisonnn." Brittany repeated, drawing out the syllables, inspecting the name with her tongue. She smiled at Santana and in that moment she realized that she'd never felt more like a seventeen year old girl. "Pretty."

Santana rolled her eyes but the smile still lingered, bashful and genuine. She stood again and walked over to the bar, grabbing the bottle of wine and a glass for Brittany. She filled it to the brim and passed it to her. When she sat back down, she was closer to Brittany. There was only one large, singular cushion separating the two of them. She placed the wine bottle on the floor.

It occurred to Brittany that she was probably amongst a handful of people who knew of Allison's existence in Santana's life and the pivotal role Allison played in it.

She may even be the only one.

Her boots were kicked off and her body was stretched vertically across the couch. She took another swig of wine. It was mid-day and her body pulsed with the gentle rhythm of intoxication.

Paradise felt a lot more welcoming.

She glanced over to Santana. She had moved down the couch, so that her back could rest against the arm. Her legs are stretched across the cushions, her toes pointed up. Her eyes are glossed and her body looks as if it's melted into the fabric. She's never seen her look so unrestrained.

"Guess what?" said Brittany. There was a giggle in her throat as she waited for Santana to take the bait.

Santana downed the rest of her wine, maybe glass three? Or five? She placed it on the floor, next to an already empty bottle and it'ssoon to be finished off friend. "What?"

"I punched Puck," replied Brittany as she struggled to contain the laugh that threatened to spill out of her mouth. Santana's eyes shoot open and there's a moment where Brittany isn't sure that she should've said anything.

Seconds later, Santana tumbling into laughter so raucous that it bounced off the walls, out of the room and into the wind. She clutched at her side, her head tilted back as if her every ounce of energy her body possessed was there for the sole purpose of a drunken fit of giggles.

Brittany couldn't help joining in.

Brittany stood in the entrance of the sitting room watching as the setting sun dropped into the ocean, her body swaying with the breeze.

"Your phone's going off again."

Santana told her from where she saton the couch, the same place she'd been all day. Her voice sounded like velvet and it's heavy with the burden that came with telling secrets.

Brittany gave a quick shrug of her shoulders without turning.

"They just want to know how I'm doing with wooing you back into the film." Her eyes closed as the thought of going back to LA and telling Bailey that she not only spent a week away during a pivotal moment in their career, but she was still without a lead.

"I thought this wasn't about the movie."

Brittany heard the subtle edge in her words so she turned and gave her a smile that she hoped looked reassuring. "Couldn't tell them that though."

They ordered room service for dinner somewhere around seven. The night sky was a pale blue and the breeze chilled the sitting room. Brittany rummaged around in a hallway closet and finds two black velour blankets. She placed one next to Santana and used the other to cover herself.

They ordered way too much, but everything looked so good and Brittany's too drunk to care about prices.

Santana picked out most of their meal. They had to get the pork osso buco, but Brittany wasn't even sure she liked orange polenta (or even what polenta is). Santana also ordered up two orders of something called, "The Tower" with a promise that Brittany will love it. Brittany made sure that Santana ordered whatever fruit they have that's the juiciest and Santana does but not without making some crude joke into the phone receiver.

Brittany watched from the couch as Santana laughs drunkenly, stumbling backward slightly and then laughing some more as she catches herself. She'd never seen Santana look so free. She'd never seen her eyes look so shiny without malice coating her face.

She hoped that tomorrow Santana would remember this moment, at least.

As it turned out, she really did love orange polenta and Santana was right about The Tower.

They sat out on the patio, each covered in one of the soft blankets sipping on something called a Waborita, Santana made. Brittany doesn't think she's ever felt so full before and even though Santana's mood keeps shifting between manic and misery, at the moment her eyes are serene as she watches the black sky dip into the ocean.

Despite everything, Brittany doesn't think she's ever felt this content.

"Did it bother you?"

They had moved their chairs closer together, to share the now empty pitcher of Waborita easier. At the sound of Santana's voice, Brittany roused herself from the sleep threatening to overtake her. She cleared her throat, "What?"

"What you said about your mom and dad, did it bother you?"

Santana's looked at her now, her eyes searching her face. Brittany shrugged with indifference her mind too caught up in the realization of exactly how close Santana's body had gotten to hers.

(She could smell the liquor on her breath.)

(She could see the tiny scar on her chin.)

"It did at the time."

Santana turned her body in the chair and she hooked her ankle around Brittany's. Her voice was soft, "And now?"

"They got a divorce five years ago. My dad has a new family. I have a half-sister now, which is totally weird." She thought back to last Christmas, how everyone had merged together at her place in LA and how it should've been odd because her parents were actively sleeping with other people and there was this snot nose kid following behind her, half the time with a sucker stuck to her shirt. It was amazing though, her parents were happy. "I like Joan, my dad's wife, a lot." She added so Santana knew this wasn't some sort of sob story.

"And your mom?"

"Is dating a guy named Steve. She only drinks on special occasions and at barbecues." She shrugged again, but added a smile to go with it. "Some people are better off apart."

It was a little after midnight and Brittany was so wasted she could barely stand without teetering into something else. She realized two drinks ago that she should've called it quits somewhere around mid-day, but the momentum was on an uphill slope and there was little she could do except follow it forward. She collapsed onto the couch, next to Santana.

"You're so drunk, Brittany," Santana remarked even though she herself could barely open her eyes. Santana was in the spot she started out in that morning, back pressed against the arm of the couch and her own arm, covering her eyes.

"I'm so not drunk." And even as Brittany professed her sobriety her words slurred together. She crawled up Santana's legs and laid her head on her stomach. Her eyes closed to the rhythm of Santana's breathing. Santana hummed as she deftly tangled a hand into Brittany's hair and scratched at her scalp.

They fell quiet. Brittany felt sleep tugging at her body when the hand in her hair became motionless.

"Brittany?"

"Hmm..." She kept her eyes closed as she wrapped her arms under and around Santana's back locking her in beneath her.

Her eyes peeled open as she realized that Santana's stomach has gone taut. She turned her head to look up at her, "What?"

"Thank you." The words came out in a rush and Santana's belly was trembling with air as it forced its way out of her body. "Tomorrow...Is probably not going to be like this...But j-just remember that today we were friends."

Brittany watched as she struggled to get the words out without letting the tears that had formed in her eyes tumble over the brim. "I won't forget, if you try your hardest to remember, okay?"

Santana smiled as she wipes at one lone renegade tear that has forced its way down her cheek. "I'll try."

She swallowed before she used Santana's body as leverage to pull herself up. She placed a kiss to her cheek, her lips pressing into clammy warmth and her eyes automatically shutting at the contact. She pursed her lips and kissed her again, this time moving every so slightly toward her lips. Her heart rate had doubled.

Or maybe that was Santana's erratic thump she felt?

Brittany let her lips fall again to Santana's cheek, right at the corner of her mouth and if it hadn't been for the slight tug she felt in her hair, she would've slid her lips to Santana's and kissed away all the grief she knew Santana felt. The tug had pulled her back to reality and brought the moment into such a sobering clarity that she pulled her lips away as quickly as possible.

Santana didn't need this, she needed a friend.

(And Brittany wanted to be that friend.)

Lowering herself back down, she let her head rest against Santana's stomach. The hand that had been scratching her scalp started up again.

The last thing heard before sleep finally pulled her under was a quiet voice murmuring, "Please don't give up on me."

Brittany awoke with her pulse throbbing against her temple and her cheek squished into a fabric she couldn't place. She sat up and clutched her head as her stomach somersaulted. She felt nauseous and her mouth was dry and bitter.

"Santana?" Her voice rang out broken and uneven. She stood, waiting a moment as she regained her balance before walking throughout the villa. She searched the kitchen, the bathroom, the patio and finally the bedroom. The blue dress Santana had been wearing yesterday was in a heap on the floor.

Santana was nowhere to be found.