I'm sorry it took so long to update... Lack of inspiration and ideas haha... I wasn't even sure if I wanted to morph this in a multichapter fic.
I hope you enjoy!
"San you've been in a bad mood lately."
Santana slammed the door of her locker shut and briefly eyed Brittany before turning away.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
It was the last period before cheerleading practice and the bell rang once, whipping demotivated students in to making their way to class. Books in hand, the black-haired girl saw this as an opportunity to scamper off. Brittany frowned before flanking her.
"But you've been doing mean things..."
- So? I always do mean things. I'm a bitch, deal with it."
Her eyes narrowed and the muscles in her face felt tighter, when she felt the blonde's hand gently rest itself on her arm as they turned the corner and headed down the hall.
"You aren't a bitch, S"
The Latina stopped suddenly and looked up in to those piercing blue eyes, faltering in the process a little before practically snarling her answer.
"Oh yeah? That's not what your boyfriend said!"
Brittany flinched, not being used to Santana lashing out at her. The brunette avoided those heartbreaking eyes filled with hurt and instead practically sprinted away towards the classroom. The blond stood still
"Get out of my way, Fabray."
Santana's voice came out as a low growl of discontentment. Quinn may've had toppled her over as the head cheerleader, but she hadn't gone back to quietly flanking her just yet.
"No", was the calm reply.
"You take your stretch-marked ass and you move it away from my Beamer. I've got places to go.
- Not until we've talked.
- I've got nothing to say to you.
- Well I do."
The Latina looked at the blond with growing irritation.
"Then hurry up before I'm tempted to punch you!
- Punching the head cheerleader isn't going to get you anywhere, aside from Coach's, Pillsburry's or Figgins' offices.
- So get to the point already!" 'and make it snappy, I feel sick again.'
Quinn sighed and looked down as if silently asking God for the necessary fortitude to deal with this girl, before looking back up straight at Santana.
"Look, Santana, you and I both know we don't love each other, and the only reason you used to flank me so avidly is because I'm head cheerleader.
- Fuck you, we actually used to be friends... kinda... until you got Preggers, took Puck then backstabbed me out of Coach's good graces.
- Yeah, and that's what matters. Those times we had sleep overs... those times we shared secrets. Those times we made fun of Rachel Berry together. When we duct taped Jacob to the flag pole..."
Her voice trailed as she searched the brown eyes for some kind of recognition, a reaction. Santana couldn't help but smirk and chuckle at that memory. She'd herself come up with the especially cruel idea to even put tape on his jewfro, further sticking him to the pole. He'd been forced to chop some of it off and for a while looked scrawnier than ever. Those were the good old days. Before they blurred the lines between Glee and Cheerios. Before things got complicated, in theory, in practice, in thought and in heart. The sharpness in her words was gone when she replied.
"So?
- So... I know you're lonely. I've been there. And maybe I'm ready to forgive you if you're willing to forgive me"
The black-haired girl said nothing, just staring, waiting for her to finish.
"I noticed you've been behaving in an unusual manner with Brittany. You used to protect her, guide her, be there for her, the two of you were inseparable. What the heck is going on, Santana?
- I've been busy and clearly she doesn't need me anymore.
- What makes you say that? Because she's dating Artie?"
Lurch. Her stomach felt as if it would fall out of her mouth and her face contorted itself in sheer disgust. Quinn's eyebrows rose and fell in less than a second, noticing this, but said nothing. Santana stayed in in silence, trying to settle herself and numb out the burning in her face.
"Taking care of a cripple can be time-consuming, but I guess someone has to."
The blond moved away from the BMW's door, finally giving it's owner access.
"Brittany doesn't deserve you messing up her love-life. But if anything, you don't deserve to feel like this, 24/7. And besides... Its my job to ensure squad members get along."
Santana cocked her head to the side, but trying to keep her expression of surprise, hidden. She'd spent enough time with head cheerleader to know this was her way of saying 'I'm here for you'. Although this touched her more than she'd care to admit she shrugged her shoulders and opened the car door.
"I told you, things are just peachy."
She got in and slammed it shut, causing Quinn to step away and watch it drive off.
"Hola", she said mechanically as she walked in, climbing up the stairs to her room. She heard a distant reply from her mother, but closed the door to her room and tossed her bag on her bed. The brunette stopped for a moment and stared at it blankly, thinking about Quinn and their conversation from earlier on, rewinding their dialog in her head. She bolted out of the room suddenly and ran to the bathroom, lifting the toilet bowl seat just in time to puke her guts out. Her head throbbed and she stayed still a few instants before hoisting herself up, flushing the toilet and running some cold water. After having splashed her face and wiped her mouth Santana looked at her reflection and grimaced in disgust at herself. Saying she was a hot damn mess would have been a gross understatement.
When the young brunette walked out again, instead of going to her room, she went downstairs, heading for the kitchen, hoping that a little snack and a glass of milk could help settle sickness, if only temporarily.
"... We have to go today! You told me yourself, Rodriguo, early detection dramatically improves chances of recovery in cancer patients!"
Santana froze, holding her breath. Cancer? Who had cancer? A wave of panic and anxiety washed over her. The questions an speculations galloped across her mind wildly, drowning out the rest of the telephonic conversation her mother was having. It couldn't be one of her parents right? Maybe grandma? She came back to reality with a jolt when the sound of the phone was slammed against it's base in an emotional manner.
"Oh mija... Do you need something, sweetheart?
- I uh."
Her heart was still rushing and the pounding at her temples reminded her of her initial reason for coming down in the first place.
"Milk, mama. And something to snack on, but not cookies."
Her mother nodded and smiled at her tenderly, although a certain amount of concern was strewn over her traits.
"I'll get it for you, you go start your homework... or rest a bit before, I'll be right up."
Santana turned on her heels and headed towards the stairs.
"... and take note you have a doctor's appointment tomorrow morning, you can turn off your alarm."
Her blood went suddenly, very, very still and very, very cold.