A/N: Walsh asked about Santana's abuela and will she make an appearance. She may come up later in the story. Also, sorry about the delay in updates. Work has seriously been kicking my ass.
Quinn walked into the kitchen and set down a bag of potato chips and a bottle of vodka.
"Always keepin' it classy Q," Santana teased, grabbing the bottle.
"Gotta hold onto my Lima roots when I'm at Yale," Quinn replied. "Need help?"
"Yeah, um Britt is setting up the grill out back, and I'm setting up the bar next to the sink here, so if you can put out all the chips and dip and snacks and stuff in bowls, that'd be great."
Quinn started opening bags of chips. "How's Brittany doing with MacBeth?"
"Good! She's getting it. Slowly but surely. The only way it works is me acting out though," Santana said with a chuckle.
"Well, she is the most visual learner I've ever met," Quinn said, smirking as she pictured Santana acting out the scenes.
"And Chemistry?" Santana asked as she lined up the bottles of vodka and rum.
"Not bad actually. The only trick is the formulas and math. They're tough to visualize. But hopefully, with this reviewing, her classes, and tutoring after school, she'll pass," Quinn smiled encouragingly.
"I'm going to owe you dinner or drinks or first born or something, for all the work you're putting into this," Santana said.
"Thanks Santana, but that's what friends are for."
"We've been friends for years, Quinn. We've never helped each other this much."
"You were there for me after the accident," Quinn reminds her.
Santana smiled and nodded, looking down at her feet, "And you were there after the ad blew up."
They continued setting up for the party in silence. Both thinking about the twists and turns their friendship has taken over the years. Brittany walked in and stole a chip from one of the bowls Quinn filled and pecked her on the cheek.
"Hey Britt. The only girl you should be kissing is standing right here," Santana said with her hands on her hips.
Brittany rolled her eyes in exasperation and gave Santana a soft kiss on the lips.
"Better?" Britt whispered.
"Much," Santana said with a smile. "Thank you."
"Now I feel like I've been short-changed," Quinn teased.
"I thought you said you weren't that into that," Britt asked.
Quinn laughed. "I'm not. Just kiddin' Britt."
"When's everyone getting here?" Britt asked.
Sam popped his head in the back door, "Hello ladies!"
"Now," said Santana.
"Hey Sam," Quinn greeted. "How's your family?"
"Good. Just got back from visiting them."
"You're staying here for your senior year?" Brittany asked through a mouthful of potato chips.
"Yeah, well, since Burt took me in, I've been helping out at the shop. And he goes back to DC soon and Finn and Kurt are leaving, so he needs some extra help," Sam explained. "That gives me a place to stay, a job to send money home, and I get to finish at McKinley."
"You've got it all worked out don't you Trouty," Santana smiled, ruffling his hair like a puppy. "How's Mercedes?"
"Good. She found a place in LA, so she's out there with her parents doing some moving stuff," he smiled back, trying to straighten his hair.
"Wait, where's Kurt?" Brittany asked. "You didn't bring him with you?"
"He's still getting ready," Sam shrugged with a smirk.
"Hey Sam, can you get the burgers out of the fridge and start getting them on the grill with Britt. I hear Puck's motorcycle," Santana requested.
"He's probably still at his house. That thing is so damn loud," Quinn added.
Brittany stopped and listened. "No, just getting into our neighborhood," she determined.
Brittany and Sam went outside with the burgers and condiments. Santana admired her work setting up the bar and Quinn rearranged the bowls to the center of the kitchen counter.
"There," Quinn said with satisfaction. "All set."
Puck's motorcycle roared into the driveway and sputtered when he cut off the engine. Puck walked in the back door and dropped his backpack on the counter, knocking the bowls of chips askew.
"Make yourself at home Puck," Santana grimaced.
"Sorry Lezpez," Puck teased, pulling a six-pack of beer out of his bag.
"When are you going to figure out that's not funny Puck," Quinn commented.
"What? Lezpez? It's kinda cute, right Santana?" Puck asked, turning to Santana.
Santana just raised her eyebrow at him, with a hand on her hip, daring him to reconsider the nickname.
"Or not so cute," Puck said with a shrug and a smirk.
Santana gave him a smirk of triumph.
"Hey, just trying to be…well we're friends right…and friends tease and pick on each other, but not in a mean way. I don't mean it to be mean. Just you know, like in a cool lesbro way," Puck explained.
"What is it with guys wanting to be friends with lesbians?" Quinn asked.
"It's like the ultimate insider deal being friends with a lesbian. They can give you the inside scoop on pleasin' a woman. You can't sleep with them. They don't want to sleep with you, but you can scope out chicks together and have a wingman…or wingwoman. Anyway, it's totally cool for straight dudes to have a lez-be-friends friend." Puck explained.
"Word has it, Sam's gunnin' for that privilege," Quinn remarked.
"What? No fuckin' way," Puck said, looking very offended. He stormed out to the back yard to talk to Sam.
Santana laughed. "If he ever thinks I'm going to give him sex tips, he's got another thing coming."
"God knows he could use them though," Quinn replied with a sigh.
The front doorbell rang.
"Kurt," Quinn and Santana noted in unison.
Santana invited him in, and took the crème brule he brought with him.
"You shouldn't have Kurt," Santana thanked him, smelling the dessert.
"Oh you know, it's no big deal. I wanted to contribute to the soiree and I just got my new torch, so had to try it out," Kurt smiled.
"Well thank you," Santana replied leading him into the house.
"So, we're celebrating good New York news?" Kurt asked.
Santana nodded, and led him away from the kitchen and up stairs to her bedroom.
"My, my Santana. I never had the pleasure," Kurt said as his eyes scanned her bedroom.
"I'll take decorating tips from you later Hummel," Santana smiled as she sat him down on her bed. "I talked to April after we met with Rachel. She's looking into a couple opportunities for me, and that means a job, so that's why we're celebrating. But, we're also celebrating because she's got a job that has to do with sewing," Santana grinned.
Kurt's mouth fell open, "Wait, what? So you're telling me this because…?"
"I can't sew and you can, so I told her about you, and here, " Santana lightly shrugged and handed over a crumpled piece of notebook paper with April's name and number on it.
Kurt unfolded the paper and mouthed the words and numbers as he read it. His face lit up and he started to visibly shake.
"You're supposed to call her Monday," Santana said, stepping away.
Kurt's smile couldn't have been bigger, as he wiped away a tear from his eye. He looked up at Santana, trying to find words beyond thank you, but nothing came out. He just stared in disbelief and joy at Santana's thoughtfulness.
Santana started to squirm and folder her arms across her chest. She rolled her eyes and smirked. She felt great that he was so happy. She just wasn't looking forward to his reaction once the shock wore off. Santana turned to leave the room.
"Come on Prancy, we've gots to get our party on," Santana said over her shoulder.
The next thing Santana felt was Kurt's body crashing into her as he hugged her from behind.
"Thank you Santana," he breathed an excited sigh of relief into her ear. "Thank you," he said over and over as he squeezed her waist.
Santana's hands slid over his arms wrapped around her belly and gave them a little pat. She chuckled a little, and then straightened up. She shrugged her shoulders and shrugged him off.
'Okay Kurt, I get it. We're good. We're good," Santana said, trying to extricate herself from Kurt's grasp. He was a lot stronger than Santana thought.
Kurt let go, but held onto her shoulders and turned her to face him. He firmly planted his hands on her and looked her in the eyes.
"You, Santana Lopez, are a good friend. I don't know how I'll ever repay you."
Santana smiled and then looked away, "I'll think of something Kurt. You can count on that. Now come on."
After plenty of food and even more drinks, Quinn, Brittany, Santana, Puck, Sam and Kurt were loose, relaxed and happy. They moved the party entirely outside after Puck dropped and smashed the bottle of rum on the kitchen floor. They talked about their future plans, but mostly they reminisced. Sam and Puck tried to recall all the dating pairs that happened in Glee Club over the years. Sam went inside to grab paper and pen.
"What are you doing?" Brittany asked him.
"Making a diagram of the dating pairs," Sam explained. "I saw it on the 'L Word'".
"Whoa," Quinn gasped. "You must really want to be Santana's lesbro if you're doing research by watching the L Word."
"Research my ass," Kurt teased.
Puck gave Sam a fist bump.
Brittany's phone buzzed. Brittany giggled when she read the text:
Not funny Brittany. – Rachel
Brittany showed Santana. Santana texted back:
Paybacks a bitch Gayberry. Maybe Finn'll think twice b4 gettin all up in someone's grill and fixin her problems by ruinin a good song. - S
The next morning, Kurt was up first and made a pot of coffee. He stood surveying the living room and watched as Puck and Sam snored on the couches. Quinn woke up with a mild hangover in Brittany's bed. She squinted at the late morning sun and pulled herself from bed. She got up and looked into Santana's room. Santana was splayed on her back, snoring away, and still in the clothes she wore the previous night. Brittany was asleep on her stomach, a mass of blonde hair obscuring the pillow.
Quinn met Kurt in the kitchen.
"Whoa, it stills stinks of rum in here," Quinn commented scrunching her nose.
"Yeah, guess we weren't as thorough as we thought cleaning it up last night," Kurt said.
"Well that's what you get for leaving it to Puck to clean when he's five shots into a party," Quinn smiled.
"How are you feeling this morning?" Kurt inquired.
"Not bad. A little headache," Quinn shrugged, and reached for the ibuprofen bottle in the cabinet. "Excited about New York?"
"It's taking all my strength not to call April right now and find out about the job," Kurt beamed.
Mrs. Lopez arrived home around noon Sunday. She opened the door and was hit was the scent of stale, sweet alcohol and the snores of Sam and Puck, still passed out on the living room couches. She walked through to the kitchen and found Quinn and Kurt on their hands and knees wiping down the bottom cabinets and cleaning the floor.
Maribel stood with her arms crossed and eyebrow raised in a questioning judgment.
"How was the party?" Maribel asked.
Quinn and Kurt's heads snapped up in unison.
"Crap," Kurt breathed.
"Mrs. Lopez," Quinn began. "We can explain, see…"
"No need to explain Quinn, and you can stop cleaning up. There's two people upstairs that will really be the best people for this job," Maribel explained.
Quinn nodded and dropped the sponge in the bucket and stood up, pulling Kurt with her.
"There's left over crème brulee," Kurt offered.
"Thank you Kurt," Maribel smiled. "Now, Quinn, tell me they're at least decent."
"Still in the same clothes from last night," Quinn confessed.
Maribel pursed her lips in a tight smile and nodded. "Why don't you two put an end to that racket in the living room and get them at least vertical," she said, leaving the kitchen and walking upstairs.
Maribel made calls to Judy Fabray, Puck's mother, and Burt Hummel. She then marched into Santana's room, threw open the curtains and stood at the foot of Santana's bed.
Brittany groaned and rolled over, her eyes sticky with sleep. Through the blur of sticky lashes, she saw Maribel, arms crossed over her chest in annoyance. Brittany gulped and coughed.
"Can you get up?" Maribel asked.
"I…I think so," Brittany whispered, pressing her head to her temple. The throbbing in her head and the churn of her stomach weren't helping, but she managed to swing her legs off the bed and slowly stand up.
"Why don't you go freshen up and change. Meet me downstairs," Maribel ordered.
Brittany just nodded sheepishly and left the room. Maribel looked down at her snoring daughter and shook her head. She cleared off all the pillows from the bed, pulled off the blankets and top sheet, and put them in a pile on the floor next to Santana's side of the bed. Maribel pulled the fitted sheet off all the way to Santana's body, then gave a swift strong pull, dumping Santana onto the pile of pillows and bedding onto the floor.
"What the fuck!" Santana groaned, scrambling awkwardly to get up, holding onto the bed frame.
Santana looked up and saw her mother, huffing from effort and anger. Santana's stomach turned. She swallowed the acid that rose up her throat. She opened her mouth to speak. Maribel simply raised her hand, closed her eyes and shook her head. Santana pressed her lips together.
"Downstairs in five," Maribel ordered. She swiftly turned and marched out of the room. Santana slumped against the bed, trying to steady her dizzy, pounding head.
Santana entered the kitchen and squinted at the bright light. Puck, Sam and Brittany were sitting at the kitchen island, heads in hands, sipping water. Bottles of Mylanta, ibuprofen and a box of Alka-Seltzer littered the countertop. Quinn and Kurt leaned against the counter, sipping from their coffee mugs. Maribel still had her arms crossed.
"I don't need explanations or excuses," Maribel began. "So stop trying to come up with one. Save your energy. You're going to need it."
Puck and Sam both raised their heads. Santana just squeezed her eyes shut, then regretted it immediately, as her headache got worse.
"I'm not mad that you had a party. I am mad you drank and got drunk. If something had happened. Something bad, and the police and paramedics were involved, I'm responsible, because it's my house," Maribel explained. "I'm glad you're okay. I really am," Maribel soothed. "But you're not off the hook."
"So, aside from your hangovers, you get one more pain. You all belong to me today," Maribel stated with a satisfied smirk. "Puck. Sam. You two are on yard duty. Lawn mowed, grill cleaned, patio tidied. Quinn and Kurt: Since I found you two already cleaning, you're making lunch."
Santana and Brittany braced themselves.
"You two are going to finish cleaning the kitchen floor until it smells like roses, not cheap rum. The upstairs bathroom is your responsibility, remember? I want it spotless. Same goes for your rooms."
Brittany heard Sam start up the lawn mower as she finished cleaning the toilet and started on the bathtub. Santana joined Brittany in the bathroom after she finished putting their bedding in the washing machine. The chemical fumes from the cleaning product hit Santana's nose and went straight to her stomach. Santana fell to her knees and wretched into the toilet. Everything she ate and drank last night was making an encore appearance. Brittany prepared a cool wet washcloth, and applied it to Santana's forehead.
Maribel stopped by the bathroom door and watched Brittany rub Santana's back. Santana was draped over the toilet bowl, sniffling.
"Sorry Britt," Santana croaked.
"For what?" Brittany whispered.
"You just cleaned it."
Maribel left the doorway and left Brittany and Santana to their hangovers and chores.
"Hey, why don't you do both our bedrooms and I'll do the bathroom. I'm not as hung over as you," Brittany suggested.
Santana weakly nodded.
Three hours and many more glasses of water later, Puck, Sam, Quinn, Kurt, Santana and Brittany sat on the back porch. Quinn and Kurt offered words of comfort, as the other four complained of their sour stomachs and headaches that were slow to improve.
Mrs. Lopez joined them on the porch. "Quinn, Kurt, Sam, Noah. You're free to go."
The foursome nodded, thanked Mrs. Lopez and said their goodbyes to Brittany and Santana Maribel turned to the girls.
"I hope this makes you think twice about getting drunk and making a mess," Mrs. Lopez suggested.
Santana and Brittany both nodded.
"Feeling better?"
"Much better than this morning," Santana weakly smiled. Brittany simply nodded.
"Good. There's some chicken noodle soup on the stove and some Saltine crackers. They should stay down," Mrs. Lopez smiled and re-entered the house.
Santana and Brittany ate their simple dinner and retired upstairs to their rooms. Brittany kept herself busy packing her backpack for school in the morning. Santana checked out a few more apartments online. Maribel walked upstairs and checked in on Brittany. There, she saw her daughter sitting behind Brittany, braiding her hair. Brittany's eyes were closed, and a small, blissful smile graced her face. Santana put her hair in a loose braid and whispered in her ear.
"Ready for school tomorrow Brittany?" Maribel asked.
Brittany's eyes opened and she bit her lip. "I think so," she gave a little smile.
"You'll do great," Santana whispered in her ear.
"Yes, you will," Mrs. Lopez nodded. "See you in the morning," she added as she left the room.
Santana hugged Brittany from behind. "Nervous?"
"A little," Brittany admitted. "But I'll be okay. I've got you and Quinn."
"If the Unholy Trinity can't do it, no one can," Santana replied.