Blame it on the hangover

(Santana)

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I was awakened by the voice of a woman singing.

For a moment I was completely lost, noticing I had piercing headache and squeezing my eyes shut at the gray daylight seeping into my dark-walled room. When I pushed the button on my phone I saw that it was only 10 a.m.

Then I felt my stomach turn inside out and I sat up, head spinning and stumbled, hands on my stomach to the bathroom (thankfully I had my own). I pushed open the door so hard that it banged into the wall and bounced back and giving my ass a tap as I fell on my knees I started retching, but nothing came up. I leaned onto my arm on the toilet seat and the other arm draped around my middle. I closed my eyes with tears stinging in them, breathing in deeply and almost falling back to sleep, when there was a rapid knock on my door.

"Santana baby, what are you doing in there?" I recognize the voice and as I heard the bedroom door open, I felt myself dry-heave again. I managed to calm it down, thankful that I had slammed the bathroom door as I barged in.

"Just a minute," I called, standing up on shaky legs. Nobody was usually home after one of my party nights, so to have anyone here was a complete shock. To have Dracula in the house was even more of one.

I stuck a toothbrush in my mouth, uncorked mascara, put some swiftly on my eye (I had thankfully washed my face before going to bed last night) and then opened the door. There was my mother, in a silk pink bathrobe, holding onto a spatula like some kind of fashion accessory.

I pulled out the toothbrush with the hand that wasn't gripping the mascara and swallowed the fresh, minty spit in my mouth. It was oddly refreshingly, even if I had to fight the urge to vomit again.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Just… practicing bird calls. There'll be a test in Glee club on Monday."

Dracula seemed to eye me very carefully, but I quickly shot her a question back, which made her loose herself.

"What are you doing?"

"Well, ehm. Breakfast. I thought I'd be nice to have breakfast with you two."

"No." I murmured angrily. "I mean, what are you doing here?" She looked away and blushed. BLUSHED. My mother didn't blush. Vampires don't blush.

"Well, we were going to tell you at breakfast, but… You just kept on sleeping. So when I heard you I thought I'd come up and wake you…" I crossed my arms, waiting, clutching the mascara brush and the toothbrush in each hand for protection, just in case.

"Me and your dad have started dating." My hands fell to my sides and I dropped my brushes.

"Wait, what!?" Dracula nodded happily.

"Oh yes."

"But what about Cruella?"

"Who…?" she looked a little confused. "Oh, you mean your dad's nonsense girlfriend?"

"Wife." She pouted her lips disapprovingly.

"Oh, well. Wife. They're getting a divorce."

I shook all over. Before I could stop myself I pushed past my mom and raced through the hall and into the kitchen. There by the kitchen counter sat my dad wearing a blue silk robe, which frankly made him look like some Latin soap opera actor. He was reading a newspaper and eating whole grain bread tostada with eggs. I could smell patatas bravas in the oven and felt a violent tug in my chest, reminding me on Sunday mornings when I was six. I also remember clearly having a tiny Brittany sitting next to me, shoveling the spicy potatoes in with a dash of dad's tomato sauce, while we were longing for the churros my abuela would come over to make.

When I stormed in and caught my breath, my father looked up. His smile froze on his face.

"When did this happen!?" I demanded. I heard Dracula come after me, her feet already in heeled slippers. My dad folded the newspaper and put in on the counter before looking back up at me.

"Which are you referring to, Santana?"

"All of it!" I shrieked "Where's your wife, for example!?"

"Oh well, we've been having a hard time for a while now." I couldn't believe my ears.

"You bought her a huge fur just a month ago!" Dad cleared his throat loudly.

"Well, that was to try and patch things back together. But it didn't work. And then your mother showed up-"

"Don't call her that!" I spat. Dracula gave an annoyed sound at that.

"Behave, Santana." he said deeply and I shut up. He gave me a stern look before he kept talking. "And we got to talking. It's been way too long." My mom went past me, and took my father's hand.

"Honestly, we thought you'd be happy." She said matter-of-factly. "All children want their parents back together. It's like that film you love so much."

"Loved," I spat. "Parent trap. I was 9." She put on a sour face at that. My dad just patted her hand while giving me the stink eye.

"Don't be rude, Santana. Your mother has missed a lot." I felt anger lash out at my insides.

"And whose fault is that!?" I cried accusingly. "She just left, dad. Left me with you, who didn't have the time to take care of me! I have spent almost 70% of my childhood at abuela's! You hardly see me! You don't know much more than she does!"

Dad stood up, slamming his hand on the table, turning his plate upside down.

"And it sounds like it's time that you go back to her so she can teach you some manners!" he roared in Spanish. "Now go to your room and pack and then come down and eat some of your mother's breakfast. I'll take you to abuela after that and then you can stay there for the rest of the weekend."

"Bueno", I growled, turning on my heels, rushing into my room and slamming the door shut behind me. Tears stinging in my eyes from anger and hatred, I felt as if I couldn't breathe. All I wanted to do was call Brittany. I needed Brittany.

But I couldn't.

Brittany was with Artie, and I would not let Artie know about this. Over my dead body. The thought of Artie and Brittany together made my stomach muscles contort again, and with a moan I ran for the bathroom, almost tripping on my toothbrush on the floor, my whole body trying to vomit. But there was no food inside of me, and I felt completely empty of all feelings.

If only I could vomit up that emptiness inside.

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It was Monday and I was still drunk.

Artie's Bloody Mary had helped me to pick it up again, it had been strong enough to make me tipsy. To be honest I had also stolen some of my dad's punch and poured it into my morning latte. He'd already left for work anyhow, and Dracula had been at her place. But my head was still spinning after our dance routine. Now Mr. Schue was giving us praise for our acting skills. It was pathetic how highly he thought of us, not realizing we were not just acting.

Rachel snuck behind me as I stood, balancing on my high heels next to Brittany, who was leaning against Artie's wheelchair for support. I saw Rachel tap Mike's ass. Tina came and pulled Mike away angrily. I snickered, but at the same time I felt an incredible sadness. I was Rachel in the Artie and Brittany situation. I was mom in the dad and Cruella situation. I had no chance. Well, looked like mom had a chance, but I know that I was screwed. I'd never become my mom. Never in a million years. I swallowed the lump in my throat.

"And have you guys heard of alcohol poisoning?" Mr Schue told us. "Yeah, it kills about 400 people a year." I heard what he was saying, and somewhere in my mind I told myself that maybe I should just keep drinking; then maybe I would do just that. Get alcohol poisoning. A sob escaped my throat.

"Santana, are you… are you crying?" Mr. Schuester looked at me with real concern on his face.

I let out another strangled sob as I felt Brittany's hand on my lower back. I wanted to smack it away, but her touch just made me weak in the knees. I held up my hands defensively, trying not to cry.

"I'm okay, I'm okay…" Then I turned to Britt, who pulled me towards her, wearing a worried look on her face. I put my arms around her neck, hugging her hard. Brittany patted my back, and I sobbed quietly, before pulling myself away as Quinn and the others told Mr. Schuester off.

But as I bite my lip, I start crying again. My shoulders are shaking and Brittany tugs at my arm. I let myself be wrapped up in her embrace as she excuses us, leading me off the stage into the dressing room.

"What's wrong, honey?" Calling me honey only makes it worse. I feel the tears stream down my chin as she helps me sit down on the bench. She sits down next to me, and instead of pulling myself together I fall even more apart. I push my head into her shoulder and she truly wraps me up in her. I feel the warmth of her breath in my hair, the tickling of her red feather earrings on my ear and her long strokes on my back. Her lotus flower and bubble gum fragrance tickles my nose and calms me down enough to take some deep, gulping breaths. I start stroking her lower back, finding comfort in feeling her warmth under my touch. She moves her head on top of mine slightly. Then my hands, as I'm still ugly and full of tears so I'm not sure what I'm thinking, starts lifting the edge of her jacket and black tanktop. When my fingers find her skin she shivers and so do I, delightedly in my sorrow, feeling something finally filling the emptiness.

"Santana…" she breathes against the top of my head, and I just hum to quiet her, stroking my tear streaked cheek against her neck.

"I just want to be warm…" Then the door bang open and I quickly slip my hands back. Brittany still holds onto me though, but she speaks as if it is the most normal thing in the world, having me in her arms.

"Hey, guys. What did he say?"

"Just the usual," Quinn said, sitting down next to me as I pull away, looking up at Britt, who hums in agreement and wipes her thumbs under my eyes, making sure the tears are gone before letting me go completely.

"So, how drunk are you, Santana?" Rachel says in a voice that seems to annoy both me, Britt and Quinn.

"Shut up, gay-raper," Quinn spits. Rachel opens her mouth in chock, putting her sunglasses back on with a snort.

"Yeah, leave her alone, none of us are feeling any good," Mercedes says behind her, pulling her glittery shirt over her head. I shoot Mercedes a thankful look. Brittany touches my arm and nods in the direction of the door.

"How about I take you home?" I nod, trying not to start sobbing again, the cold emptiness making me drown in my own misery. She starts packing all our things down before giving me my bag. When we leave, she bumps into Rachel with her bag, making her spill the water she was drinking all over herself.

"Heey!" I can't help but giggle as Brittany shoots me a sly look.

"Ooops, I'm sorry," Britt says happily. "Still a little tipsy, you know!" Then, with a wink in my direction, she hooks my arm to hers and drags me out of the locker rooms.

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We don't really talk on the way home. At least none of us had been stupid enough to bring our cars, so we walk. The weather is better again and the sun is shining, piercing my head painfully.

She steers us towards my house without saying anything and she puts on a playlist on our phone of the songs from Sweet Valley high, this book series we read when we were younger which had been turned into a TV show. Last year Brittany had been given the first DVD as a birthday present from her parents and ever since, we had been watching it nonstop. It was the kind of show that was so bad you couldn't help but love it. And it didn't matter if we talked through the episodes, because we could still keep up with the storyline of the two twin sisters getting into trouble one way or another.

When we reached my door I fumbled with the keys before stumbling in. I put my bag on the floor and opened the fridge, finding some sliced cheese. I took it out and stuffed some in while I heard Brittany behind me:

"Your dad left a note… He's going to take your mother to dinner… wait, Pamela? Your mom?" I turned around, cheese still rolled up in my hand, nodding while sniffling loudly.

Brittany comes forward, reaches out again and takes the cheese from me, popping it into her mouth.

"Now," she starts, seeming to have sobered up quite a bit during our walk, placing me on a chair by the counter. "I'm gonna make you a sandwich and a big glass of water…" she opens the medicine cupboard. "…with a Trio in it. And then I am taking you to bed."

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After getting some food in my stomach I felt better, but tired.

Tired of crying. Tired of feeling so useless. Tired of being so empty.

When Brittany followed me to my room, as I stripped off my sparkly, itchy dress and washed my face, she undid my bed. I pulled a sweatshirt over my head and stumbled back out only to see Brittany fluffing my pillows. I swallowed hard, tears once again stinging.

She had pulled down my blinds and turned the lights off. The only thing on was the lamp on my dresser. When she turned to watch me, I smiled and went up to my bed, crawling in. She smiled back at me, sat down on the edge and gave my hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Do you want to talk about it…? Pamela, I mean." I felt my heart sink.

"There's not much to say. She's back and she and dad are dating again." Brittany made a sour face, which was unlike her.

"Did she try to apologize? Explain herself?" I shook my head and her hand squeezed me harder.

"No, apologizing isn't really her thing. Guess I got that from her… She tried to bribe me with these." I looked down at my new, perkier breasts. Brittany looked down at them too, before quickly looking away, her face turning a darker shade in the darkness of the room.

"She doesn't deserve you," Brittany mumbled, staring up into the ceiling.

"I think that's exactly what she does," I murmur glumly. "I'm a shitty person and this is my punishment." Brittany looks back at me, glaring.

"No. You were a kid. We both were. And first she took you from me, and then she dared to just leave you behind too." She held my gaze and I felt my heart beat achingly. "All adults act like that, like we are not allowed to behave badly without apologizing, but when they do it's supposed to be forgotten…" then her voice softened. "And no matter how much of a coldhearted bitch you are, you are always the same on the inside. You can't fool everyone. At least not me."

I felt a burning in my throat and I looked away.

"I don't want to talk about it." Because I knew that I was being punished, if not for being a bitch, then for feeling this way.

"Okay." Her little finger gave me a little stroke, before she began to stand up. "I'll see you-"

"Stay." I whispered, holding onto her hand, giving her a pleading look. "Could you please stay for a while? We could watch some Sweet Valley High." She looked hesitant, but then seeing me in my state, probably, she nodded.

"Go ahead and borrow something comfy…" I told her, and she threw off her jacket and put on a pair of shorts that were, since they were mine, painfully short on her long legs. I noted this while I found the DVDs and put the TV on.

As I cuddled back under the covers with her I could feel the heat from her radiating into me. I tried to focus on the episode, but it was close to impossible since they were having a party. I remembered the way she'd arched her back when we'd done body shots only three days ago. It was ridiculous how easily you could let the alcohol be an excuse for almost anything. Nobody had questioned it when I had licked, licked, the tequila from her belly button. They had all assumed it was in good fun, typically slutty cheerleaders…

Now I felt the bits of alcohol still in me egging on the half-drunk hummingbirds. Before I knew it, I was reaching out for her hand on top of the covers.

"Even if it didn't work, Scott trying to get her drunk might be a good idea," I murmur while watching the episodes. "Alcohol is a good excuse."

"It sure is. I mean, all those parties we've been too we're always drinking," Brittany murmured back. "It's always so much fun. Except for the throwing up." I nodded, and she looked at me, eyes slightly closed.

"Maybe we should sing Ke$ha at the assembly…" she murmured. "Tik Tok. It's good and it's about drinking. Besides her video is hilarious."

"Yeah. And her lyrics are so understandable when you've been drinking…"

"Like, "Boys tryin' to touch my junk, gonna smack him if he getting too drunk…" that's girl power, isn't it?" She smiles slightly, a worried glance at my hand. Like she's talking about smacking my hand away. But she doesn't. Instead her fingers, trembling, entangles with mine as I push them down on the covers on the other side of her, leaning in.

"Well," I murmur. "It's also got great lyrics. Like; "You build me up," I sit up on my knees.

"You break me down," I lift my other hand, reaching behind her head and pulling out her high ponytail. Brittany's breath is heavy and she closes her eyes, her eyebrows furrowed.
"My heart, it pounds," I let the scrunchy fall to my bed as I lean in even closer, Brittany's eyes still closed, mouth slightly open.
"Yeah, you got me…" I let my nose touch hers before I inhale and kiss her lips softly, light as a bird wings flap. I feel a shudder inside of me as if the emptiness is trembling, but as I'm about to put my hands on her neck she leans back, leaving my mouth with a shudder.

"San, I'm with Artie. This is not right…" She looks away. But I, feeling like I might start crying again having her so close but just out of reach, put my leg over hers, straddling her. Then I put my hands on her face, forcing her slowly to look at me.

"Brittany, no, it's not like that… This is just something else. Of course we're not cheating. We're just friends." She gives me a confused look, filled with doubt and questions.

"We're not just friends." She says, matter-of-factly. And I can't argue against. It's too obviously not true, this excuse I keep telling myself.

"You're right… I guess we're not. But it's still different from being with Artie." She shakes her head.

"I feels different, but… it's still cheating." I am desperate, and in that desperate attempt I take a deep breath and put on a stone face.

"How can it be the same? I'm a girl and he's a boy. It's not the same at all. The plumbing's all different. You know, pipes and tunnels, and all…" I feel myself slipping, so I try to make it obvious. "That's why boys don't mind their girlfriends kissing other girls. Because there's this huge difference between boys and girls and how we work." For a moment I sound so convincing I almost believe myself. Even though I always think a guy's an ass if he thinks it's okay for his girlfriend to kiss girls. If you're in love with someone you should only want to kiss that person.

Brittany smiles shyly.

"Well, all of my boyfriends have always encouraged me to kiss girls at parties…" I start smiling myself, letting out a breath. Her eyes tell me she knows I'm simply pulling a new, crappy excuse, but oh God, her eyes are also telling me she wants to play along. She looks down and I do too, seeing her hands sneak around my waist, my stomach tightening painfully. I shiver, closing my eyes. When I open them she is looking at me again.

"So, you're my best friend and something more… my lady friend whom with I share sweet lady kisses?" I giggle, slightly out of breath when she pulls me closer, my forehead meeting hers.

"I don't want to label anything." She reaches up, kissing my chin innocently.

"Then let's do some plumbing…" To my surprise she can even make that sound incredibly sexy. I wrap my arms around her as I feel her hand sneak in under my shirt. I kiss her hard, desperately, not caring that I have just agreed that we are more than best friends. I am scared shitless, but at the same time I feel the fear and being pushed aside as the emptiness is fading away, being replaced by thousands of tipsy hummingbirds inside me, causing a hurricane that builds and builds and builds…

Until we both explode into each other, colorful wings flapping against our ribcages, singing in our eyes as our lips meet. Again, again and again.

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A/N: Oh well. Is this any good? Like I said, it's been a while.
And they have to hook up. Before the next episode. Which is Sexy. THE EPISODE.
I just felt like Santana needed to face her feelings a little. And Brittany to let Santana fool her. They just want each other.
I hope this isn't too cheesy, haha. I wrote it quickly, because I wanted to get somewhere. I hope you guys enjoy it. Comments are always very welcome. They make me write faster :D