I'm going to be straight up, I've been trying to post this for a straight year. But, bruh, life is so fucking distracting. So, basically...my b. 😅

When Santana wakes up, it's with a heavy lump on her chest. Literally.

Looking down, she is immediately drowned in golden locks. She unattractively gags as the hair makes its way into her mouth, unconsciously pushing the sleeping girl off of her to catch her breath. She sits up lazily against the headboard trying to get the sleep from her eyes only to hear a muffled gruff come from the other side of the bed. Blonde tresses are now splayed against the pillow that Quinn looks to be suffocating in.

"My bad goldilocks. You had me over about to cough up a hairball." She can't help the way she unabashedly checks out her bedmate. Even still wearing yesterday's clothes, hair all over the place, and groaning like Oscar the Grouch, she still somehow managed to make Santana's heart beat in a way that she was sure would end in her untimely death. "Try not to strangle yourself with the pillow, Q. I'm sure Mercedes is already pissed that we stole her bed. Don't need to add a body on top of that."

"God, Santana. Not so loud." Quinn moans, turning over only to quickly cover her face with the same pillow.

Santana almost took pity on her. Almost. But Quinn's obvious hangover only served to remind Santana about the troublesome girl's previous endeavors.

"Serves you right, asshole." Santana announces as she throws the other pillow at the incapacitated blonde as she gets off the bed. She hates how adorable she finds the resounding whine that she gets.

Quinn removes the pillow from her face exasperatedly, "Bite me, Lopez. I feel like I hit my head on a brick wall. Can you please bring me some water? Please?"

"More like a bridge troll." Santana murmurs under her breath, not necessarily caring if Quinn can hear her, but assuming she can't with the pillow back to its suffocating position. "I'll be right back." She grumbles, leaving the room to retrieve the blonde's salvation.

Reaching the living room, Santana is happy to find that the house seems to be free of straggling teenagers as often happens. But, come to think of it, that probably makes Quinn the drunk straggler this time around; though this would hardly be the first time. Maybe the first time that Santana wasn't drunkenly strangling along side her.

Despite the absence of bodies, the house it still totally trashed. It's hardly anything out of the norm, miscellaneous cups strewn around, spills in a few areas, and things scattered about. Santana is mostly irritated at the thought the she and Quinn are more than likely going to be roped into helping clean up. Especially since they'd slept over. And stolen Mercedes' bed.

Speak of the devil, Santana thinks as she finds Mercedes sitting at her kitchen bar, hovered over her phone.

"Isn't it too early to be spreading chisme about last night already?" Santana quips as she reaches into a cupboard for a glass, fortunately already familiar with the ins of Mercedes' home.

"Never too early. Especially with all the juicy things that happened last night." Mercedes responds without looking up. "Besides, it's, like, almost 11. So, good afternoon to you, too, Satan."

Completely stuck on the first part of Mercedes' statement, Santana waves off the greeting, "What juicy stuff?" She questions, bringing the now filled glass of water to the bar where Mercedes sits.

Mercedes looks up for the first time since Santana entered the room, eyebrow raised, "Really? Remind me again who you woke up next to this morning. In my bed, might I add." She bodes.

Santana can only pray that her brown skin will keep the red hue from being visible in her cheeks.

"We've woken up next to each other plenty of times." She diverts.

"Sure. And is her face always nestled in your boobs like that?" Mercedes smirks.

"Whatever." Santana huffs in attempt to shake her embarrassment. "Nothing happened anyway. She was drunk and I put her to sleep…"

"I'm missing the part that required you to climb in with her. Last I checked, you were completely sober." Mercedes cuts in.

"She asked me to stay with her."

"And you were only happy to comply." Mercedes taunts, going back to her phone.

"You know what, whatever Mercedes. We all know how I feel at this point." And she kind of hates it. Hates that everyone knows that she is feenin for a girl that she may never actually have.

"Truth. And how does sleeping beauty feel about that?" Mercedes inquires, putting her phone down to finally give her friend her undivided attention.

"How does she feel about what?"

"Stop playing dumb, Santana. Did you sweep her off her feet last night? Did she swoon from your heartfelt confession? I saw you two on the porch last night."

"Then you saw her fall asleep on me in the middle of my speech." Santana rolls her eyes, as she slumps into the barstool next to Mercedes.

"Sure didn't. Damn. So she didn't even hear it?"

"I don't really know. She didn't mention anything when we woke up this morning."

"How hung-over is she?" Mercedes questions.

"She spoke to me, so probably not so much. But she was trying to suffocate herself with your pillow." Santana chuckles at the thought. "Speaking of, I was supposed to bring her this a while ago." She motions to the water condensating in front of her.

"Mad cute." Santana is convinced her eyes might actually get stuck in the back of her head from how often she has found herself rolling her eyes in just the last hour alone. "Go on to your girl, then. Aspirin's in the upstairs bathroom." Mercedes advises as Santana picks up the glass and makes her way out of the kitchen.

"And hurry up! Y'all are helping me clean up my house!" Santana hears as she reaches the end of the staircase. She internally growls at being right. "But, first we're going out to get breakfast. And you're paying since you stole my bed." Well. She supposes that's fair.

When Santana enters Mercedes' bedroom again, aspirin and water in hand, Quinn hasn't moved an inch, still comfortably sprawled over on the bed. Setting the remedy on the bedside table, Santana aggressively removes the abused pillow from the sleeping girl's face. Maybe she's still a little tight about last night.

"Hey!" Quinn replaces the stolen pillow with her arms instead. "It's so bright."

"You need to get up. We're going to get food, and then we have to clean up."

"I don't want to. My brain hurts."

"Who's fault is that? I'm going take a shower. I don't want to reek of yesterday's atrocity when we leave this house. If you're not up and dressed when you get back, guess you'll be starving because my stomach's not waiting for you to sober up." Santana proclaims as she gathers her abandoned night bag.

Quinn huffs from her place on the bed before sitting up and glancing around the room. "I don't know where I left my bag." Noticing the water and aspirin Santana had left out for her, she downs it immediately.

"Better start looking." Santana responds curtly, heading to the bathroom.

"San…" Quinn calls out.

Santana stops in the doorway, but refuses to actually turn around and face Quinn. Yes, she's pissed, but she's worried that Quinn might find something else in her face. "What?"

She only hears a sigh behind her. "Uhh, I just… Thank you for the water and Advil. I'll be ready."

"Yeah." Santana mutters as she shuts the door behind her, leaving the blonde in the bed alone.

"So, what happened?" Quinn hesitantly asks, picking at the eggs on her plate. The trio made their way to Lu Lu's Diner, a spot they frequent. It was close and there were never too many people there so it was a good spot to relive the previous day's memories.

"How much do you remember?" Mercedes asks, eagerly sipping on her tea.

Santana realizes that she is probably being weird in her silence, but she isn't entirely ready to have this conversation with Quinn yet. She's still pissed about the kiss. But she's also hella anxious about the confession.

"Not much, really. The last thing I really remember was playing beer pong with Sam." Santana can't tell if her heart leaps or sinks at the confession.

Mercedes hums her understanding while Quinn continues to think. "I remember that he's not very good." Quinn lightly chuckles to herself.

Mercedes laughs along, "We all knew that. Why'd you play with him? That boy ends up under the table at every party." Santana watches as Quinn only shrugs her shoulders. "Unless you were trying to get white-girl wasted."

Quinn blushes. "I was just trying to have a good time."

"Oh, we could tell." She doesn't mean for it be to be heard, but it just kind of slipped out. She can feel the way Quinn stares at her from across the table, but doesn't respond to the comment. Mercedes seems to have sensed the air get tense and decides to dig into her breakfast.

"I remember talking to Sugar. And Artie," Quinn speaks up again after a brief silence lingers at the table.

"Uh-oh. That's no bueno. Were the claws out?" Mercedes jumps back in. Santana can't help that the news also peeks her interest.

"No, no claws. And they weren't together. I ran into Sugar at the bathroom. Or, more so she ran into me. While I was looking for Santana." Quinn answers, rising her eyes to make contact with the brunette across from her. Santana isn't sure why, but the way Quinn looks at her makes her nervously look away. "I wasn't in the bathroom." Santana mumbles.

"I know." Quinn asserts, continuing. "She came onto me really hard. I wasn't sure if she was drunk or not, but it was really weird. Especially, running into Artie right after."

"Wait, shut up. She came onto you. What the hell? Did you two hookup?" Mercedes gasps, completely absorbed in the story. Santana feels her own chest tighten at the image of Sugar all over Quinn last night. But, now seeing her and Rachel arguing at the party makes a lot of sense.

"No, I pushed her off. I'm-" Quinn stutters as her eyes once again rise from her plate, seeming to search for Santana's own.

This time, Santana holds the contact. She really wants to know why. "I don't want her. Not anymore."

"Seriously? Damn. You move fast."

"No, don't get me wrong. Like, I'm still really hurt. I still answer my phone hoping she's calling to take it all back. Pushing her away was probably one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. But, like I don't want to be with her. At least I don't think I do. I know I didn't want to last night."

"Damn, no wonder you teamed up with Sam. Sorry, that must've sucked, Q." Mercedes sympathizes.

Meanwhile, Santana is trying to figure out what's breaking her heart more. The fact that Quinn is still clearly broken up about the breakup or that Quinn still seems so far from her grasp.

"I mean, time heals all wounds." Quinn breathes out, shooting a small smile at the both of them. "So, what else happened? I feel like I'm missing something."

Santana makes eye contact with Mercedes as they have a silent conversation about who exactly would be spilling the beans. Suddenly, Santana doesn't want to talk about it anymore. As if speaking it into existence will make it even more real.

"Well?" Quinn catches on.

"Well, you didn't hookup with Sugar last night, sure. But, you know how you get when you're drunk." Mercedes speaks up.

"Umm, I guess. What happened?" Quinn eggs on, eyebrows furrowed.

"Well, you were dancing. And things went from zero to one hundred."

"Real quick."

"Huh? What does that mean? Dancing with who? I feel like I vaguely remember dancing with Rachel at some point." Santana feels her eye twitch at the name.

"You made out with the hobbit." Santana spits out bitterly. Mercedes rolls her eyes at Santana's lack of tact.

Quinn, for her part, only looks on confused.

"What? No. I'd remember that." She claims.

"Guess not. Because, it sure as hell happened." Santana shoots back.

"'Cedes?"

"Yeah, girl. Full on Madonna-Brittney Spears in the middle of the party." Mercedes confirms.

Quinn seems to mull it over in her head. "Is that why you're pissed at me?" she throws, catching Santana off guard.

Suddenly nervous, the cheerleader shifts in her seat, not liking having been called out. "I'm not pissed at you, Fabray." She rebuttal, avoiding eye contact with everyone at the table.

"Whatever, Lopez. You couldn't be stewing more if there was actually a pot and you were sitting in it."

"Screw you, Fabray."

"You're mad that I kissed Rachel? Yes or no?" Quinn demands.

"I think I'm going to the bathroom." Mercedes suddenly cuts-in. "Try not to kill each other, please. I still need y'all to clean my house." She adds in, quickly escaping the tension that has risen at the table.

It's quiet as the girls have a stare down, neither wanting to be the first to break.

Santana is conflicted; she's still not sure she's ready to confront this issue. But, at this point lying about it would be counterproductive. "What does it matter, Quinn?" she finally breathes out, caving on the staring contact as she instead glares at the table below her.

"Because how you feel is important to me. Always has been. Nothing's changed." Santana can see how Quinn tries desperately to catch her eye, but Santana isn't ready to lose all her will just yet.

"No, everything's changed." she whispers. "Do you like her?" she can't restrain the way it tumbles from her lips. But, it's out there now and now she and Quinn have to deal with how uncomfortable the air gets immediately after.

The way that Quinn begins to shift uncomfortably in her seat does not go unnoticed by the anxious brunette.

"I asked you first." Is Quinn's only reply. Santana can't tell if Quinn is just speaking quietly or if her own heart is drowning out the blonde's words.

And, for a second, Santana hates Quinn. She hates that Quinn hasn't answered her question yet. She hates that Quinn is making this one of the most uncomfortable moments of her life. She hates that she can't even tell if Quinn knows how hard her heart is beating against her chest. She hates that's she's not sure if Quinn's going to catch it if it actually manages to break through her chest. But she mostly hates that because of Quinn she can't stop the word vomit that's about to spill from her mouth.

"Yes!" her hands fly out to clutch at her own hair as she finally meet's the blonde's eyes. "Fuck Quinn. I'm pissed that you kissed Rachel. NO. I'm furious. I'm furious that you might like her. I wish that I wasn't. I wish I didn't give a fuck. In fact, I wish I had been kissing someone myself last night. But no. I wasn't. I do. And I am. And I'm so pissed about it. I'm pissed at you because you're an idiot and somehow you're managing to squeeze my heart without knowing it. And I'm pissed at myself for letting you. So, yes Quinn. Fuck yes. I'm so pissed." Her breathing is labored and there's a slight shake in her left hand when she's finished. She hadn't realized how upset she really was until it had come out. But, somewhere in the middle of that, she'd lost the will to maintain eye contact and once again found herself staring at the table.

"And the song…"

"Because I like you, Quinn. Do I really have to spell this out for you right now?" Santana is exasperated. Her heart is on her sleeve and Quinn's not catching on fast enough.

"But..."

"You don't remember, Quinn." Santana unknowingly interrupts, too into her own thoughts. "But I told you last night exactly how I feel about you. And, I don't know, Q. It just happened. I don't know why, but I can't help it Quinn. And, trust me when I say I've tried. Because the last thing I want is to lose you by scaring you off with all of these fucking feelings. But, here I am and here we are because I'm so tired of you not knowing. I'm pissed about you kissing Rachel because it actually makes my chest hurt to think that you could actually like her back. And not me. I'm pissed about it because I want nothing more than to have been the one you kissed last night. You an all your stupid drunkenness." Santana doesn't mean to rant, but the flood gates had been opened and she didn't really know how to reel it back in.

Quinn sits in silence, eyes scanning the table for answers she surely wont find there. "Say something." Santana all but whimpers.

"I don't really know what to say."

Santana shakes her head; her eyes aren't watering. No. Surely, its all the dust in the crusty diner. "How long…for how long have you felt this way?" Quinn continues.

"No. My turn to ask a question." Santana demands. If all her business was going to be out there for the world to see, then she'd be damned if she didn't get something out of Quinn, too.

"Fair enough."

"Do you like Rachel? Yes or no?" Santana pushes, imitating Quinn's earlier question. Maybe she sounds a bit elementary, but who cares. Tact has never been a strong suit of hers.

The way Quinn fidgets at the question is not lost on Santana. "Why does that matter?" comes the answer that is far from the answer Santana has secretly crossed her fingers under the table for. Fingers now clinched into a fist as she grows frustrated with the blonde who had stolen her heart.

"Why the hell do you think it matters, Quinn?!"

"Sant-"

"Quinn. I like you. Jesus Christ, I've already admitted it. Twice now. Stop forcing it out of me, please! I want to be with you. Okay. Can you get that through that stupid blonde head of yours? I've wanted to be with you for so long. I've held this in for so long. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of waiting for you to be available so I can have a shot. I'm tired of waiting for you to notice me. I'm tired of hurting about this, Quinn. It's fucking hurts. You know what hurts the most, though? The fact that I know that if you reject me right now, I'll understand it. I'll understand and I'll drop it because I know you're still in love with Sugar."

"I'm not…"

"I know that shit hurt. And, I'm still going to kick her ass for hurting you like that. But, I get it. You might not be ready and I get that. So, as tired as I am, I'm still willing to hold on for you. Because that's how much I want to be with you."

"San…" Quinn tries to jump in again.

"But. Not if you pick her, Quinn." Santana finishes. And she can't really figure out why she's once again laid her all on the table again, but there's just no going back at this point.

"Rachel." Santana knows that its not a question. Maybe Quinn has finally decided that playing coy isn't getting them anywhere. So, she continues.

"If you pick her, I can't sit around and act like I'm okay with that. I can't because I won't be."

"But, why is that different? Why is Rachel different?" Quinn questions and Santana isn't sure why she's asking but she's more than happy to divulge.

"Rachel and I have been fighting for a long time. I don't even know why anymore, it's just the way its always been. Maybe because we're two ends of the same bitch spectrum. We both know what we want and there's not much that can stop us from getting it. Except each other, usually."

"So…then this is about some competition you've got with Rachel?" the intonation in Quinn's voice is a dead giveaway of just how put off the blonde is by the idea.

"No."

"Then I don't get it."

"Quinn. If Berry likes you even half as much as I do, then there's no way she'd ever let you go. It'd be the only thing she ever did right."

And for a moment its silent. Neither girl is speaking and for the first time Santana remembers that they are still in a restaurant as the sound of eating patrons and distant conversations float to her ears. But, its still all somewhat hard to hear over what she can only assume is her own heart pounding away in her ears.

"What do we do, Santana?" And suddenly they're making eye contact again, but Santana has already laid her heart on the line so she's ready this time.

"I need to know, Quinn. Do you have feelings for Rachel?"

"I don't know. Santana wait." Quinn urges, reaching out to the retreating girl's hand. Santana allows herself to be pulled back to her seat because let's get real, when has she ever denied Quinn anything?

"I don't know." Quinn repeats, firmly grasping onto Santana's hand. "Like, don't get me wrong. Sure I've thought about it before. But I've been so wrapped up in Sugar for so long that I don't really know how I feel. I haven't had time to process. Anything." She breathes out.

Santana mulls over Quinn's explanation. At the very least, I don't know is better than yes. Quinn could still decide that she has no interest in Rachel whatsoever. But, so… "and me?" Santana whispers. She can't help the way that her palm gets sweaty where Quinn's hand still grasps hers.

"I love you, Santana."

"But you don't love me like that. I get it." Santana responds defeated. Retracting her hand. Once again, Quinn has to reach for the retreating girl.

"You really have to stop interrupting me, Lopez." Quinn mock scowls. "I think… I think I could."

It's the most hopeful Santana has felt since she woke up this morning.

"Could what, Q? Don't leave me here grasping for straws."

"I think I could have feelings for you. You're one of the most important people in my life. I just need time. And I know that you've been waiting." Santana is so elated at the news that she almost feels bad about having made her blonde counterpart feel guilty about making her wait. "I know. And I'm sorry about that. Really, I am. But, I need you to work with me here. Please. Give me just a little more time?"

And she clearly still doesn't know just how deep Santana is in because she could have asked Santana to deliver the universe to her feet and Santana would've found a way to make it happen. But, more time. Time, she could do that. For Quinn.

"You're lucky I dig you, Fabray." Santana jokes, attempting to sooth the air. She can't help the way the grin Quinn throws her way melts her heart several times over.

"One condition, though." She throws in suddenly. She be damned if she let this opportunity pass.

"Just one? I'm disappointed, Lopez." Quinn winks, receiving an eye roll in return.

"Go on a date with me."

"San." Quinn sighs.

"Hear me out first, Q. No strings attached. No expectations. Just a chance to take your mind off of everything else. And in the meantime, see if we're good together." She bargains.

"I already know that we're good together." Quinn tosses back. And she hasn't flat out rejected the idea and that in and of itself gives Santana the confidence she needs to push it.

"Then let's see if were great together. Come on Q. We always have a great time together."

"Hmmmm" Quinn continues to think. But she's smiling and Santana just knows that the blonde is about to cave.

"We can even hit up Tommy's food truck for that bacon-wrapped wiener you like." Santana waggles her eyebrows in good humor.

"Sold." Quinn concedes, reaching back over to grab and shake the brunettes hand. "You drive a hard bargain, Lopez."

"Glad you see things me way, Fabray. Prepare to have your world rocked." Santana grins, squeezing the hand in hers.

"Sure sure sure. I'll try my best to pretend its not the bacon that's got me smiling the entire time." Quinn retracts her hand as Santana tosses it away, rolling her eyes at the chucking blonde.

"Finally." Mercedes announces, reappearing at the edge of the table.

"I thought you left." Santana blinks at their friend who had literally appeared out of thin air. Or maybe she'd been starring at Quinn to intensely to notice her. Who knows.

"You drove, Satan." Mercedes rolls her eyes, "Nah, I was sitting over there. Minding my own business." She says as she reclaims her seat next to Quinn.

"Yeah right." Santana snorts.

Before the two can begin to go back and forth, Quinn's phone dings.

"I still want all the details." Mercedes continues, decidedly ignoring the phone. It's not hers. And she's not nearly as interested in who Quinn is talking to as Santana seems to be.

"That may have to wait, 'Cedes." Quinn sighs, looking up from her phone.

"What's up? Who is it?" Santana jumps in.

"Finn. We're late for booty camp."

"Oh fuck. I completely forgot about that." Santana groans, face planting on the table. The very last thing she wanted to do was be in the same room as both Rachel and Sugar. Not after she had finally gotten her foot in the door with Quinn.

"Apparently, we're not the only ones. But, sounds like Mr. Shue isn't very happy. Sorry, Mercedes. Your house is going to have to wait." Quinn says as she reaches into her purse and pulls out money to leave for her meal.

Mercedes only shrugs. "As long as it's done before my folks get back, I'm not trippin,"

"I don't want to go" Santana whines, refusing to follow her friends out of their booth.

"Come on, San. We're all tired. But it wont be so bad." Quinn urges, grabbing her hand. Santana hates how quickly she gives in after that.

"Rachel can you please stop pacing? It's making me dizzier than I already am." Kurt complains, as Rachel paces in front of him where they are both waiting on the stage of the auditorium.

"I can't! How unprofessional for almost everyone to be late. Nationals are upon us and I seem to be the only one who cares!"

"Please stop yelling." Kurt moans, clutching his own head. "Everybody is always late. Why are you so wound up about it today? Plus, most of us were lit last night. I'd probably be late, too if you hadn't physically removed me from my bed like the demon siren you truly are."

"You're welcome" Rachel snipes back. "I'm just ready to rehearse. We need as much practice as we can get."

"Yeah yeah. Save it. We both know the reason you're really being annoying right now is because Quinn isn't here yet." Kurt snipes right back. And if he weren't her best friend, Rachel could've hit him. Well maybe not hit him, but at least clapped back at him. But he is. Not only that, he's also right.

"Kurt. She and Santana left the party at the same time last night."

"Don't they always?"

"Whatever. Things are different now." Rachel is sure her worrying is justified, even if nothing really out of the ordinary had occurred between Santana and Quinn. But, knowing that Santana is holding onto feelings for Quinn makes everything different.

"Look, I did my part. I kept Santana as far away from Quinn for as long as I could. I don't really know when they wound up finding each other. Did you at least tell her how you felt?"

"Kind of." Rachel answers, smiling down awkwardly at her friend. She really did appreciate his help last night.

"Explain."

"She asked me if I liked her. I said yes. She asked why and before I could finish telling her…she kissed me." The blush she was sporting would have been more embarrassing if Kurt was actually looking at her. Instead, his arm is sprawled over his eyes and Rachel would think he was asleep if he wasn't actually responding to her.

"So, that's good right?" Kurt questions, still attempting to use his arm to block out the lights.

"I-I don't know." Rachel stutters.

"You don't know? Rachel Berry."

"I don't know, Kurt. It was…it was weird. It was everything I've wanted for so long. But…it wasn't what I expected it to be at all. There were no fireworks." She explains. She spent most of the morning before showing up in Kurt's bedroom racking her brain about that kiss. She'd yet to be able to put her finger on it, but there was just something that was bothering her about it.

"Fireworks? Really." Rachel can tell he rolled his eyes based on the way he winces right after he spoke. Serves him right.

"I'm being serious, Kurt. Don't get me wrong, she's a fantastic kisser. I was completely winded." Rachel can't help the way that her lips tingle at the memory. It had definitely made it on her top five list of kisses. Officially, too, as she'd actually taken the list out and scribbled Quinn Fabray on it.

"Spare me the details. Thanks." Kurt waves her off.

"It made my brain stop, but it didn't make my heart stop." Rachel continues, barely registering that the boy had spoken a word to her.

"Is that healthy?"

"Think about the first time you kissed Blaine. Didn't you feel like you were the only two people left in the entire world?" Rachel questions, placing her own hands across her heart.

"Hmm, sure. Let's go with that."

"Like the way it felt the first time I kissed Finn."

"Here we go." And at this, Kurt finally removes the arm from his eyes just so Rachel can see his arched-yet-suspicious eyebrow. "There were sparks. There were fireworks. Barbara Streisand was literally singing background music." She narrates, glancing over at the tall boy sitting in the third row of the audience, distracted by his phone. One of the only other people already present.

"So, no Barbara for Quinn?"

"No. It was more Brittney whispering Toxic in my ears the entire time."

"Funny. She was inTOXICated." Kurt chuckles at his own joke.

Rachel only rolls her eyes, continuing. "Kissing Quinn reminded me more of the time I kissed Puck."

"That's…weird. I think you should never repeat that."

"I don't know Kurt."

"Look, she was hammered. That could be why you were hearing Britney instead of Barbara. I'm sure if she were sober you would've heard the damn angels chiming the wedding song I know you've already picked out in the background." Rachel hates how well he knows her sometimes. Because, yes, she does already have her wedding song picked out. So what.

"That could also be why she kissed me to begin with." Rachel reasons.

"True. But I don't think she would have done if she hadn't wanted to do it sober. What do they say? Drunk minds, sober thoughts."

"I…don't know if that applies here."

"Apples and oranges."

"That doesn't make sens…"

"I think the more important question here is, what does all this mean? Do you not want her anymore?" Kurt pushes.

"Of course I do." Rachel asserts. And, really she does. She'd thought about that question herself after thinking about the kiss for so long. But, none of her conclusions had ever led her to believe that giving up on Quinn was the answer.

"So, what?" Kurt, ever the persistent one.

"I've decided that I need to go for kiss number two." Rachel announces as if she has come up with the most reasonable plan. Ever. "When we're both stone cold sober. That way I will know forsure."

"Annnd, how do you plan to do that?" Kurt asks, finally standing up on his feet, dusting himself off.

Before Rachel can respond, the auditorium door opens as the girl in question enters, Mercedes and Santana trailing behind her. Rachel can't help the thump in her heart at seeing the blonde. Or the pang at seeing her enter with Santana.

"I've got a few ideas." She mutters, as more gleeks trail in behind them, making their way to the stage.

This is technically not the end of this chapter, but the shit got mad long so I went ahead and split it up. I think you all will appreciate that more lol. Sorry if it didn't move along much, but I just couldn't squeeze it all in there. R&R anyway, por favor? I luh you, I swear. I'll do better, I swear 😭