A/N: For everyone who reviewed: thank you. I genuinely meant it when I said it makes me update faster – see? Also, who knew the possibility of a Brittana controversy would get me so many reviews?

I guess I'll keep being cryptic in my notes, since so many of you responded: beware of ANGST.

Chapter 18

The next day, I knew there was something utterly wrong with Quinn. She didn't look at me or talk to me. She ignored me altogether in classes we had together, and was snappy and short with people who weren't me that tried to talk to her. I think, by the look on Joy's face, that Quinn had almost made her cry. That created a huge lump in my chest, because a bitchy, snappy Quinn is not a happy Quinn. And I didn't know what to do to fix it.

I spent the entirety of the day avoiding her, because she seemed so pissed. She wouldn't even make eye contact with me. It made it hard, because I realized how much I relied on Quinn throughout the day. Barely anyone spoke to me, since Quinn didn't. I realized, with a bit of a shock, that all of these people that I loosely termed my 'friends,' actually weren't. They were only my friends because Quinn was.

I sat down at a picnic table as soon as class let out, deciding to skip Vox that day. I couldn't handle the idea of being so close to her, singing and dancing in tandem, when she wouldn't even look at me. It broke my heart a little bit just to imagine it.

Sighing, I rummaged through my book bag, deciding I would do some homework for once. I had too much on my mind to just sit and think.

I was surprised when Sugar plopped down beside me, the scent of her perfume strong. She seemed utterly composed and unruffled by my irritated look. She was looking at herself with a little hand mirror, applying a thick layer of lipstick.

"What's your problem, Motta?" I asked, doing my best to keep my voice down.

"I was going to ask you the same question, actually," Sugar said, snapping the compact close, then angled her head to look at me. "Are you having girl trouble?"

I whipped my head around to glare at her, then darted a quick glance around to make sure nobody overheard. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Sugar didn't seem to catch on to the hostility in my tone. "I'm a little bit psychic," She told me.

"I think you mean psychotic," I muttered, stabbing my pen into the soft wood of the picnic table.

"Hmm. No." Sugar said, tilting her head. "I know you and Quinn are fighting. What did you do?"

I glared at her again. Can this chick not take a hint? "We aren't fighting, you fucking imbecile. We're fine." I said the last part a little lamely, because I knew it wasn't true.

"No, she's definitely pissed at you." Sugar held her purse in her lap and was rummaging around inside of it. "You need to fix it, so you guys can be happy again."

I rolled my eyes, groaning, and then turned to face Sugar slightly, hoping that the more direct I was, the better chances I'd have of her understanding me. "Sugar, I need you to listen closely to me," I said, and caught her eye. "Quinn and I aren't dating. We're just friends. And we're not fighting." At least, I didn't think we were fighting.

Sugar cocked her head, studying me. "You aren't dating?"

I shook my head no, thinking, finally.

"That's probably why she's mad," Sugar said sagely, nodding to herself. "I think she probably wants to."

My eyes bugged out of my head, jaw dropping slightly, before I lowered my forehead to the picnic table with a groan. "Sugar—"

"Is it because you can't commit?" Sugar asked, patting my back softly. "Is it because you're a strong, independent black woman, like Beyoncé?"

I resisted the urge to slam my head against the picnic table. "Sugar. For the last frigging time, I am not a black woman." I made sure to enunciate every syllable. "Not that it's any of your business, but I'm Puerto Rican."

Sugar nodded slowly. "Why didn't you tell me before? I spent all this time looking up Kwanzaa traditions."

I sighed, rocking my head to the side so I could peer at her with my face still resting on the picnic table. "Why aren't you at the Vox meeting?"

Sugar smiled briefly. "I saw you leave your last class and come out here. Plus Quinn is mad like a super nova. I figured you needed a friend."

I rolled my eyes, but held back the snappy retort. I had learned the hard way today that I basically didn't have any friends, besides, apparently, Sugar – and reluctantly Quinn, if I hadn't fucked that up beyond measure.

"So you need help figuring out a way to stop making her mad at you?" Sugar asked, cheerfully. She sat there thinking for a moment. I just watched her, prepared for whatever complete insanity she would come up with next. "What about getting her flowers? Or jewelry?" Sugar smiled. "That always makes me happy."

I shook my head. "Again, we aren't dating. We're friends. Friends don't give each other flowers—" But then whatever thought I had in my head suddenly died. I widened my eyes, springing up. "Sugar, you're a damn genius," I told her. I quickly gathered up my backpack.

"I know. I'm a part of MENSA," Sugar told me matter-of-factly. I ignored her, and slinging my backpack over my shoulders, bolted towards the hedged-in flower garden.

I prayed that it wasn't too late in the season – that the flowers hadn't already died. And either some miracle had happened, or somebody, somewhere, took pity on me, but the bush with the Santana Hibiscus still had a riotous amount of blooms. I smiled, and then began to delicately pluck a number of the blooms by the stem, careful not to crush or damage any of them.

I was buzzing with anxiety and mingled excitement as I darted inside, one hand clutching the stems of the blooms and the other shielding the flowers from general view. I was afraid somebody would see them and then I'd, like, get a ticket or something for picking the school's flowers.

"Santana, that's just tacky," Sugar had commented when I walked past her, towards the building. "You're supposed to buy the flowers. You know? Like from a florist?" I ignored her and power-walked inside, and then up the stairs.

I sat the bundle of flowers down nervously on my desk, chewing on my lip, as I hurriedly undressed and changed into jeans and a snug t-shirt. I brushed out my hair and let it fall to my shoulders unhindered. I even thought about reapplying a layer of makeup, but stopped myself. I couldn't figure out why I was so nervous or anxious. I kept checking my phone, waiting for the hour to pass for Vox to be over and Quinn to head up here.

I laid against my pillow, fiddling with my phone. The minutes slowly ticked by.

I woke with a jolt as my phone vibrated violently against my chest. I coughed, sitting up quickly and looking around the room, disoriented. It was dark, and I knew that hours had passed since I lied down. I groaned, slamming my palm into my forehead before I finally answered the phone.

"Santana!" Brittany chirped. I sighed, quietly, clicking on the lamp next to my bed, and checked the time on my phone. 9:36. Shit, where the fuck was Quinn?

"Hey, Britt." I said softly, rubbing my eyes. I hate taking naps. "How was your day?"

Brittany told me about the latest gossip in glee club. That Puck was dating Lauren Zizes, a girl I had no idea existed, really, and I wondered briefly how some nobody from the A/V club caught his attention. She then went on to say that Kurt was being bullied ruthlessly by Dave Karofsky, and that Kurt and Finn's parents were getting married this weekend. "They're, like, going to live together," Brittany said. I cocked my head, thinking about this, and then split into a wide grin.

"Oh, lord, I bet Finnocence completely loves that idea," I couldn't help but laugh.

"So, are you coming home this weekend?" Britt asked, expectantly.

I sighed again, glancing around the deserted room. My eyes landed on the bushel of flowers that were now wilting on my desk. "Quinn might not be able to bring me," I said. "Do you want to come get me? It's a long ass drive."

Brittany paused. "Well, I would, but I might get lost.. I don't have a GPS."

I started rubbing my fingers into my temple. I felt a migraine forming. "Well, ask one of the other glee losers to ride with you. Not Rachel," I said, before she could even begin to think about it. "I'll text them the directions. But really, it's like, five hours here. And five hours back. We probably wouldn't get back to Lima until one or two in the morning."

Brittany seemed like she was about to burst with enthusiasm. "But it's like a totally cool road trip! I'll pack all of my CDs and beef jerky." I could sense the smile in her voice. "And Rachel is so totally coming."

I groaned. "Brittany, please don't torture me like that. Rachel and I locked together for five hours straight would end up in homicide."

Brittany hummed speculatively. "Santana, that stuff is for private time," She warned. "Plus, I didn't think you thought Rachel was pretty?"

My jaw dropped, and a long whoosh of air exhaled from my lungs. "Oh, god, Britt!" I said, exasperated. "Homicide.. not.. homo.. oh.. Jesus." I ended lamely. "Please, just ask Mercedes. Or even, um, Tina." I decided those two were the safest bet. "Or Mike." Or anyone other than Rachel frigging Berry.

But then something else dawned on me, and I had to roll my eyes. "And not Artie. I love you, but there's only so much I can take."

Brittany sighed into the receiver. "I told him we were having a girl's weekend. He says he doesn't care, he has Holo or something."

I rolled my eyes again even though Britt couldn't see it. That kid was unbelievable. "All right, Roger that. Did you say the Hummel/Hudson wedding was this weekend?" I wrinkled my face in a frown.

"Yeah, and I bet you can come. You can be my date!" Brittany sounded so excited. I just sighed.

"No, I can't," I said flatly. "Just take Artie. If I get invited, I'll bring someone." I squinted my eyes, wondering how hard it could be to pry Puck away from his rhino girlfriend. Or even that boy with the giant mouth. What was his name? Sean? Stan?

"Kurt is seeing someone," Brittany said, a pout evident in her tone. I scrunched my face, trying to interpret what, exactly, she was getting at.

"It's not you again, is it?" I asked, perturbed. That had been a ridiculous chapter of both of their lives, and I hoped it was well behind them.

"No," Brittany said, and her tone was a little tight. "A boy."

It took a few more seconds for it to click, and then I rolled my eyes again. "Brittany." I said seriously, but not harshly. "Right now, you are seeing someone. A boy."

Brittany huffed. "But, you and I both know – why can't you just be my date for the stupid wedding?"

I felt the pain throb in my temple, aggravated by my frustration and irritation. "Britt, can we talk about this later?"

I knew immediately it was the wrong thing to say. Brittany went completely silent on the line, and then after a few moments she just said, "Bye," and hung up.

I threw my phone, hard, then winced at the sound of it thunking against the door and skidding across the floor. Fucking perfect.

I swung my legs over the edge of my bed, feeling anger well up inside of me. I was pissed, but what about or who at was a mystery, even to myself. I thought I was pretty much just mad at me, which made me twice as angry. Why couldn't I be Brittany's date for that stupid wedding? Everyone would have probably thought it was a clever joke. It probably would have made the boys' mouths drool, thinking about us making out. It would have been harmless.

Except, not to Brittany, I thought, and sighed, because being pissed was useless. Brittany would have gotten ideas. Why the hell did Hummel have to go out and get himself a boyfriend? Now that he was parading about McKinley, showing everyone that Gay Is Okay and displaying his man, Britt would start to think dangerously along the lines of Melissa Etheridge, and Ellen and Portia.

She didn't make any sense, not even to me, but that's not far out of range for Brittany. She was dating Artie, and seemed happy – at least as far as I could tell, from my limited interaction with her since August. Still, it was clear from that conversation, and the ones before, that Britt hadn't moved on from the idea of there being an us. I didn't know how to help her get the picture.

I slid to the floor from my bed, turning around to pull out the drawer that housed most of my underwear and bras. After reaching back into the far corner, I clasped the glass tequila bottle. I stared at the amber liquid, weighing the pros and cons, before I shrugged and slammed the drawer back into place, twisting myself around to sit on the floor. I unscrewed the cap and sloshed back several gulps, forcing myself to drink past the burn and the nausea.

Xxxx

"Santana," She sounded really pissed. I groaned, because her voice was sharp and piercing to my brain. I rolled over, fighting back the queasy roil of my stomach.

"Santana, I had perfect attendance during nine months of constant morning sickness," Quinn said tightly, ripping the blankets off of me. "There's no way I'm letting you miss classes just because you're hung over."

There was anger and disappointment dripping from her tone, something that made me wince and roll into a ball. I already felt like the world's most miserable fuck up, and here she was, just driving the point home.

"Get out of bed," Quinn snapped, reaching for my shoulder.

"Don't touch me!" I growled, then edged closer to the wall.

Quinn huffed. I couldn't see her face but I could imagine her expression. "You're a real fine piece of work, you know that?" I could hear her nudge the empty tequila bottle with her shoe. "What exactly do you have to feel sorry for yourself for?"

I rolled my eyes. "Please, just go the fuck away. Don't you have an appointment somewhere to look and act superior to everyone around you?" I knew I was hung over, because that one was lame.

Quinn seemed to bite down on her anger, before she finally grabbed my wrist and began yanking me towards the floor again. It a proven tactic, but it didn't stop me from getting annoyed with her. I flailed around, gripping my sheets and the mattress, twisting my wrist out of her fingers.

"For the love of god, Quinn, go be somebody else's Jiminy Cricket." I muttered, rubbing my wrist petulantly.

"What are these?" Quinn asked, her voice colored by surprise. I rolled over, peeking blearily out into the room.

I remembered, vaguely, laying the little bouquet of Santana Hibiscus out on her pillow, to make sure she found them before she went to bed. It was clear from the way she was staring at them that she hadn't come back to the dorm last night. My eyebrows shot up at that implication.

I felt stupid, now, for picking the damn things. "Uh, nothing," I muttered, shoving at my hair and sitting up slowly. "I got you those. To say sorry." I shrugged defensively.

Quinn turned around to stare at me, and there was real confusion on her face. It made me tighten my features into a scowl, and I refused to meet her eyes, though I knew she was scanning my face, trying to scrub it for any information. I just sat there with my knees curled up to my chest, resting my chin against them.

"I just really don't get you." Quinn said it quietly.

I laughed sharply. "Yeah, I don't either."

Quinn studied me for a while more, and I felt my cheeks start to pink beneath her gaze. "Where the hell were you last night, anyway?" I snapped, trying to divert her attention.

"I stayed with Joy in her room."

I raised an eyebrow, and Quinn shrugged. "I noticed you missed the Vox meeting, and Sugar was gone, too."

I had to bite back a little laugh. "She kept me company. She's.. not that bad." I was going to say nice, but I didn't want to shock Quinn and give her a coronary or something.

Quinn made a little 'hmm' noise and I shot my gaze to her face. The familiar look there had me smiling despite myself.

"C'mon, Quinn, Sugar looks like a malnourished flamingo." I teased her a little bit.

Quinn just shook her head and sat down on the bed next to me, sighing. "You're an idiot, Santana," She said, as if tired.

I rested my head against my knees and looked lopsided at Quinn. She wasn't looking at me, but she was sitting next to me, so I considered that progress. "I know." I reached out and brushed my fingertips along the top of her hand, skirting the knuckles idly.

Quinn looked down at our hands on the bed, hers a golden peach color, mine a dusky hazelnut. The contrast between us had always been something that slightly fascinated me; I enjoyed watching her hands play against my skin, or vice versa.

"We're going to have to figure this out sometime," Quinn said with a sigh. She looked at my face, finally, and I saw confusion and defeat in her green eyes. It made something inside me tangle and wrench, my heart aching slowly.

I nodded. "I know." I pretended to understand what exactly we were talking about, but I was a little clueless. Quinn can be more vague than Brittany sometimes.

Quinn's gaze flitted between both my eyes, as if she were trying desperately to read some meaning there. I bit my lip, unsure of what she was trying to ask or tell me.

Quinn looked on the brink of saying something else, and then just silently shook her head, heaving out a heavy breath. "Go take a shower. I'll take you out to lunch."

I stood up slowly, unwinding myself from my curled position. "So, what? You're going to play hooky too?"

Quinn shrugged a bit listlessly. "I guess." She sounded depressed, and it made my lips pull downwards. I leaned down and gripped her in a tight hug, pinning her arms to her side, squeezing gently.

"Thank you," I said quietly. I didn't know exactly what I was thanking her for – lunch? For putting up with my stupidity?

Quinn blinked at me as I stepped away and then into the bathroom, closing the door quietly behind me.

A/N: So you may have noticed that this is really short. It's only about halfway done. I had it to this point, took a break, and was going to finish it earlier tonight but, I found out my brother attempted suicide and he was/is in the E.R. So .. with everything that entails, I know I'm not going to be able to write for a while. I may not be able to update for much longer than you guys are used to, and I'm sorry about it. I didn't want to leave you all with that last chapter by itself, though, because I know it quasi-started a riot. Just try to be patient with me, and I'll go ahead and tell you (though I had intended to keep it kind of mysterious) that I never intended for this to be a Brittana fic, so (kindly) unwad your panties. Have patience for me, my family is going through a lot right now. I'll try to get back into writing once everything calms down.. however long that'll take.