EDIT: Fixed a few grievous typos. Apologies.
AN: Thank you for the support!
Rachel Berry was lying on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. She felt like crying again; she had skipped class to deal with this mess, and Kurt had cancelled his morning plans just to help her. But nothing was fixed; it was even worse with this whole…thing…with Quinn.
After the Latina had dropped the call on Quinn, the blonde had immediately proceeded to call her back. The three of them had gathered around the buzzing phone before Santana had snapped and thrown the iPhone at Rachel; the smaller girl catching cell with a loud squeak.
"Not picking up can be on your conscience, midget," Santana had sniped before striding off; presumably to finish unpacking and moving in to her new room. Before Rachel could call in a word edgewise, a distinct slam could be heard, effectively leaving the now quiet phone Rachel's problem.
Recovering first, Kurt had taken one look at Rachel's ashen face and demanded she go get some sleep; noting, quite accurately, that she had probably not slept the night before. He offered to take Santana's cell from her, but she had shaken her head tightly before proceeding to her room and gently shutting the door.
It was now five thirty five; a little over two hours, four missed calls, a handful of unread texts and not even a minute of sleep since the original hang up with Quinn. Technically, two of those calls were to Santana's phone…so if Rachel was kidding herself, really she only had two missed calls on her own phone; her own conscience.
Her conscience…
And even if Quinn did want to experiment…There is no way Quinn would have slept with Santana of all girls let alone people.
Rachel groaned and put in face in her hands. Why did she say that? She didn't mean that; she didn't mean that at all.
Nothing, I just meant…
So what did she mean exactly? The words were on the tip of her tongue, but she just couldn't say them without understanding what they were.
She didn't hate Santana. There was no doubt in her mind that the ex-cheerleader was a beautiful specimen of a girl who many, girls or guys, would kill to have a chance with.
So…why would she say something so absolutely horrible? That was completely unlike her.
Quinn is straight.
She jerked her head back into the bedding and her eyes snapped open, immediately glancing at her own phone. It had become briefly illuminated; a new text, presumably from Quinn again. Five forty five. Brody would be home soon, and then her chance to apologize would be out the window. And that was the one thing she was absolutely sure of; despite not knowing the reason those words had spilled from her mouth, she undoubtedly had to apologize to their receiver.
A quiet rapping at the door redirected Santana's attention away from the box she was unpacking.
"I already told you, Lady Hummel. I don't want anything from that atrocity you call a restaurant!" she yelled back, draping a shirt on a hanger and placing it into her closet.
Santana heard the door slowly creak open and took a small calming breath before turning around.
"Hummel…"
She stopped.
"It's not Kurt," Rachel said, smiling weakly. "Can I come in?"
Santana seemed to momentarily appraise her and for one nerve-wracking moment, Rachel thought that she was about to answer in the negative. But then the Latina gave a jerky nod to the opposite side of the bed.
"You can start putting away the stuff in that box."
Rachel gave her a small smile, and the two quietly put away incidentals for a while before Rachel broke the silence.
"Santana, I'm –"
Before she could finish, the ex-cheerleader cut her off. "Don't want to hear it, Berry."
"But-"
The Latina's head snapped up so that she was looking at Rachel dead in the eyes.
"No buts. I'd be three times dead to Sunday if I let shit like that get to me."
Rachel warily regarded Santana before replying. "Nevertheless, I still feel that I should apologize," she said, frowning when the other girl scoffed at her. "I'm sorry."
"For being such a pain in the ass?" Santana rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I figured."
"What, no." Rachel was taken aback. "It's for…"
Santana cut her off again. "No, yeah. I got it. I was being sarcastic oh tiny one."
Unsure of how to reply to that, Rachel resumed unpacking, noting with relief that the apology seemed well received.
They were still putting away clothes when Santana chose to speak up.
"So why didn't you want to call Quinn?" Santana really didn't do heart-to-heart conversations, but the curiosity was killing her. She regarded the now stiffening girl with a generous amount of curiosity.
"Face it Berry," she commented, offhandedly. "You owe me an explanation after making me hang up on Q. Who is going to be pissed might I add."
Rachel was now looking anywhere but Santana; an act not going unnoticed by the other girl.
"I don't know," Rachel murmured quietly. "I just don't want her to find out that I'm…"
"Preggers?" Santana supplied helpfully.
The smaller brunette let out an exasperated sigh. "Yes. That."
Santana shook her head in disbelief. "Well, no shit Sherlock."
The comment caught Rachel off-guard, and she finally met Santana's eyes, mouth agape.
"What?"
Santana crossed her arms and cocked an eyebrow. "Do you always state the obvious? I mean, from the moment you burst out of your room, desperate to stop me…"
"I was not desperate!" Rachel interjected, indignant.
"Oh puh-lease," Santana scoffed, shaking her head. "You came out of that room faster than Kurt –"
"OKAY," Rachel loudly interrupted. "I get the picture."
Santana was smirking widely. "You don't even know what I was going to say."
"Let's keep it that way," Rachel muttered, throwing a wife-beater over her shoulder and hitting the other girl square in the face. Upon the sudden silence, Rachel turned around to see Santana frozen, the shirt fallen at her feet.
She did not just…
"Oh my god, Santana I'm so sorry." Rachel had one hand over her mouth, and the other extended mid-way in a gesture of apology.
The Latina, meanwhile, was beside herself with disbelief. "Did you just assault me with my own tank top?" she said, incredulously.
Rachel was now backing up slowly towards the door. "Santana..."
Ding.
The two stopped abruptly.
"Oh my god, Brody's back," Rachel freaked, spinning around to stare at the door. "I can't…I can't deal with him now."
The tiny girl was starting to hyperventilate.
"Calm down hobbit." The nickname was said without any malice. "Brody lives here remember? He wouldn't ring the doorbell, he has a key. It's probably just your neighbor again; we can deal with boy-toy later."
Rachel ran a shaky hand threw her hair. "He forgot it." She looked up at Santana, desperate. "The key. He forgot it on the dining table."
"You've got to be kidding me," Santana deadpanned.
"Please Santana…"
Upon realizing what the other girl was asking her to do, Santana started to shake her head.
"Oh, no."
Rachel didn't say anything after that, just sagged a little when she realized the absurdity of what she was asking her friend, ex-enemy, and day old roommate to do.
"Oh for the love of…" Santana pushed past the pregnant girl, muttering a slew of Spanish swear words under her breath. She threw open her door, leaving a stunned Rachel in her wake.
Ding.
The Latina strode towards the entrance of the apartment with a grateful but confused Rachel trailing behind her.
"I'm coming god-damn-it. Hold you bloody…" She threw open the door.
Standing outside was none other than Quinn freakin Fabray, lips drawn in a tight white line and her right hand holding an open phone in a position indicating she was less than pleased.
The blonde snapped the cell shut as she regarded Santana coolly.
"When neither you nor Rachel picked up," Quinn said, throwing an icy-glare at her friend. "I assumed that your apartment was on fire and you left your cells behind in an effort to save your lives."
Santana was not normally intimidated by Quinn, but she had fallen back into full blown HBIC mode. This wasn't fear…this was more like conditioned self-respect.
"So, like any normal, concerned, friend would do, I grabbed my metro pass and took the next train here. Despite having two papers and a midterm due Monday."
They really shouldn't have hung up on her. Cursing herself inwardly for listening to Rachel, Santana stepped back to let the irritated girl inside.
"Everything seems to be in one piece, so my worries were apparently unfounded." She surveyed the room, eyes finally falling on Rachel. One look at the girl's face, and the anger on Quinn's face melted off to a softer expression.
Santana caught the unexpected change of expression and suddenly found herself lost for words. What just happened?
"What's wrong Rach?" the blonde asked, stepping closer to the girl.
Rachel burst into tears and Quinn quickly wrapped the girl in her arms, holding her soundly as sobs wrecked the smaller body.
I've always wondered what it would be like to be with a woman.
Santana's eyes widened.
No.