Here we go again...we're all aware I own nothing right, riiiiiight. Thanks for liking this it makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. Enjoy.

Ink

When Santana heard the door closed she let out the breath she'd been holding and ran a tan hand down the front of her face. She'd snapped at Rachel, again and she already felt a tadbit guilty for it. That dream had her shook and when she'd waken up to Rachel's face she couldn't help but feel overwhelming embarrassment and her embarrassment fueled her anger. She wasn't even mad at Rachel, she was mad at herself. She had all this other shit to worry about and all her subconscious apparently wanted to worry about was getting into Rachel's pants.

Santana groaned and slid out of the bed, she didn't have time for her subconsciousness' issues she had real world things to deal with, such as calling her boss to see if they could arrange some type of work from home situation at least until the summer. She also needed to call Mr. Ivernel, because even though she didn't especially like him and she and Rachel had both hit him, he had information that she needed concerning the house, the will and all. She also wanted to check on Mateo, make sure he was as ok as he could be and spend some bonding time with him; before the accident she hadn't been home in months and now she was and it all felt so suffocating.

She slipped on a pair of jogging pants that were folded on the floor by the bed and groggily stumbled into the kitchen. Upon entering the smell of brewed coffee assaulted her senses and she smiled. Rachel didn't even drink coffee, but she made her some minutes after she yelled at her. The knowledge that Rachel still thought of her when she was such a bitch made her feel even more guilty then she already did.

Well, there's nothing I can do about it now. She thought pulling out a nondescript blue mug and poured herself and steaming cupful. She sat at the table and sipped her coffee thinking of the best way to approach her boss, Irene. Finishing her coffee she padded back into the bedroom and grabbed her phone, might as well get on with this conversation, it was by far the easiest she had planned for today.

Thirty minutes later she hung up the phone smiling slightly. Irene was such a pushover if you flattered her enough she would do just about anything you wanted. It just so happened that Santana had mastered clueless flattery under Coach Sylvester. She'd worked it so that the writers under her emailed their pieces directly to her by the first Friday and she had until the following Monday to proofread and send them back and until the second Wednesday to email Irene a copy of her editorial column. It was a lot of work, but it always had been and it was still doable.

She decided that the next step would definitely be Mateo, she didn't think her pride was ready to apologize to Ivernel. She planted herself at the bottom of the stairs, her hand shaking on the bannister. She still wasn't able to ascend the stairway, not with all the happy smiling pictures adorning the wall. Not with her parents' empty bedroom at the end of the hallway. She just couldn't do it.

"Mateo!" She hollered expecting him to already be awake and to come running down at the sound of her voice.

When he didn't appear she took a tentative step on the bottom stair and hollered his name again. Maybe he was still asleep. She worried, he'd always been the earliest riser. Up and full of energy where she needed at least a cup of coffee before she had reached a quarter of his wakefulness.

"Matt! I need you to come down here!" She called starting to pace the stair ledge. What if he was hurt. Or mad that she'd waited until their parents were de-gone to be an active big sister. What if he heard her yell at Berry; who was a better sister than she'd ever been and now he wasn't speaking to her. What if...anything and she was too much of a fucking coward to walk up a flight of stairs. God she wished Rachel was there instead of on her way to the high school.

She ran into the kitchen and scooped up her phone intent on calling Rachel when a looping script on the dry-erase board caught her eye:

Santana-

I hope this note is sufficient enough to let you know Mateo is with me, after all I wouldn't dare interrupt another of your of so interesting dreams.

-Rachel *

Santana couldn't help but grin at the note, apparently Rachel had learned to mastered the art of sarcasm in written media. She should have felt embarrassed that Rachel hinted that she might somehow know about her inappropriate dreaming, but all she could feel was unrestrained mirth at the woman's unshakable nature.

"Mr. Ivernel will see you now..." The redhead secretary smiled up at Santana as the door to the inner office swung open.

"Uh...yeah...thanks...?" She replied with an uneasy smile.

She entered the office and had to hold back a grin at the sight in front of her. Arturo Invernel sat in a wingback chair behind a maple desks sporting a black eye as well as a tiny purpling hand print on his cheek.

"Can I help you, Miss Lopez or did you just come to gawk at your handiwork?" He snidely asked setting his glasses off to the side of the desk.

"If I apologize can we like start again?"

"Is the apology sincere?"

"Not especially...but I'd say it if it makes you feel sort of better. I mean honestly I kind of want to hit you again, but I'm really fighting that urge." She sat in one of the chairs across from him and slouched sullenly.

Ivernel huffed and glared at the young woman. He didn't understand how his wonderful friends had raised such and unabashed heathen. He shook his head and opened the bottom right hand drawer, pulling out a thick rubberbanded manila envelope.

"Alight, do you want to me to read this verbatim or go over the most succinct points for you."

"I think succinct would be best for all parties involved, I mean the more you're mouth moves the more likely that you're gonna have a matching pair of eyes."

"Riiiiiiiight...so," He shuffled the papers.

He spent a solid thirty minutes telling her about the house she had grown up in, about inheritance and estate taxes. He bored her with appreciating college funds and stock quotes. It was when he was droning about social security benefits that she finally lost her cool.

"I thought you said this was the succinct version." She rolled her eyes.

"You need an accountant, a lawyer, and an attitude adjustment; is that succinct enough for you, Ms. Lopez?"

"I've got you, Art...two out of three ain't bad, eh? Can you just fix it, so I don't have to worry about all this so much...please?" She smiled deviously.

"I'm not an accountant..."

"I bet you know something about it though...or have a friend..."

Arturo crossed his arms and arched an eyebrow at the brunette. "I don't really care for your personality and general lack of manners..."

"I know you don't, most people don't, but despite me, you loved them so do it for them...besides I said please."