Santana Lopez was sitting in her chair, but her cheek was resting flat against the wood surface of her desk. She had no books out, no notes, no folders. Her desk was clear, and there she was, with her head down, doing nothing. It was hard to tell, but Brittany thought her eyes might not even be open.

"Um, Santana?" Brittany asked from the doorway.

The woman didn't even startle at the sound of someone's voice. She picked her head up slowly and looked blearily at Brittany. When she recognized the blonde, a dopey smile appeared on her face.

"Hey, Brittany. Whatchu doin' here?"

Becoming more confused by the second, Brittany entered the room and looked down into Santana's eyes. Her focus seemed very fuzzy, and the dark circles that were always under her eyes seemed darker today.

"Santana...when's the last time you slept? You look..." But Brittany couldn't even finish the sentence. She didn't know how Santana looked. Tired didn't quite cover it.

Santana sighed and furrowed her eyebrows, like she was thinking hard about her answer. Finally, she looked up at Brittany and said sadly, "I don't know."

"What are you doing here then? You should go home and rest."

Santana mumbled something in response, and it all seemed slurred together, but Brittany thought she heard the words "don't want to" mixed in there.

Without warning, Santana stood up and walked around her desk to stand in front of Brittany. She was definitely standing a bit closer than usual.

"What're you doing here?" she asked, then reached out and took Brittany's hand.

Brittany looked down at their hands and then back up at Santana. Her dopey smile was back, and she seemed to be wobbling just slightly.

"I forgot my purse yesterday. Santana...are you...are you drunk?"

The brunette's smile grew wider. "Ahh, that is the question. By legal standards or social ones?" she asked with mock seriousness.

"Santana, you should go home. Why are you drinking at work?"

Santana raised an eyebrow and let go of Brittany's hand, walking back around her desk. Bending over, she pulled a plain glass bottle with a glass stopper out of the bottom drawer. The bottle was about halfway filled with amber brown liquid.

Santana looked down at the bottle, then up at Brittany, with a mischievous grin on her face.

"I wonder which one of you tastes better?" she asked quietly.

Oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. It took about .25 seconds for Brittany's cheeks to feel flushed. What she'd give to hear Santana say that when her inhibitions weren't lowered with alcohol. Also, it should definitely be illegal for a person to be that completely intoxicating on their own.

Brittany had no response to Santana's question. She didn't even open her mouth to try. After a few seconds, the brunette took her hands off the bottle and walked back up to Brittany. Putting her hands on Brittany's hips, she brought her lips to the blonde's ear.

"My money's on you," she whispered. Her lips brushed Brittany's ear as she spoke. Brittany was about to explode. Any second. Internal combustion was going to take effect.

"Shit, Santana."

"You know," Santana said with her lips still at Brittany's ear, "if you decided to lose control now, I wouldn't tell anybody."

Brittany desperately wanted to give in. With Santana's hands at her waist, and her lips still brushing against her ear, she really had no idea how she didn't just say fuck it all and give in. But a little voice inside her head reminded her that Santana was definitely drunk—by both social and probably legal standards.

"Santana...come on. You can't stay here. You can come home with me."

Detaching herself from the brunette's grip, Brittany quickly walked out to her own desk and grabbed her purse, which was lying exactly where she'd left it yesterday. When she went back for Santana, the woman held her hand out like a child. Brittany gently took it and walked with her to the elevator. Thankfully, she seemed to be able to walk in a relatively straight line.

"Santana, I have to show my ID to the security guard downstairs. You need to try and pretend to be sober, okay?"

"Mmmhmm," Santana said, starting to sway again. Brittany supposed standing still was the challenge here, not walking. When they got off the elevator, the security guard turned around and smiled at Santana. He obviously recognized her.

"Hello, Ms. Lopez. Calling it an early night?"

Early? Brittany tried to think of what time it was. It had to be past 8. Did she come here all the time on weekends?

"Yep. Brittany says I can't stay here any longer," Santana said somberly. If Brittany hadn't been so confused at what the hell was going on, she might've found Santana's impression of sober quite funny. Her face was completely serious, and she looked as if she'd been reprimanded by a parent.

"That's nice of you to get her out of here," the guard said to Brittany. "She never leaves, does she?"

"I guess not..." Brittany said as she started to walk with Santana toward the door. Remembering she needed to show the man her ID, she paused and quickly fished it out of her purse. He hardly even looked at it when she showed him, but instead spoke again to Santana.

"Have a good night, Ms. Lopez."

"You too, Eric. See you next weekend."

Apparently, she was here every weekend. What the hell?

Taking Santana's arm in what she hoped was a casual gesture, Brittany marched them towards the revolving doors and out into the cool winter air. Once out in the street, Santana gave up on her sober charade and walked closer to Brittany, taking her hand again like it was a perfectly normal thing to do.

"Your hands are always warm, did you know that?" she asked genuinely.

Brittany was taken off guard. It was exactly what she'd been thinking of Santana at the same moment.

"So...do you wanna tell me what the hell you're doing in your office on a Saturday night, drinking alone?" the blonde asked, looking down at Santana as they skirted through the New York night life.

"Not really," Santana said simply.

Brittany huffed a sigh and tried again. "Well, why don't you tell me anyway?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Humor me, would you?"

This time, it was Santana's turn to sigh, and she took her eyes off Brittany to look ahead.

"Look, I just...I don't like going home, okay?"

"Why?"

"Can we not go there?" Santana asked sharply.

Brittany decided to give up and try a different question.

"Well...will you tell me why you aren't sleeping, then?"

Santana started tracing her thumb along the back of Brittany's hand. It felt so good Brittany almost didn't hear Santana's response.

"I don't sleep very well. So I sort of just gave up on trying."

Brittany couldn't tell what was sadder—what Santana said or the very straightforward way in which she said it.

"You seemed to sleep just fine when...when you were at my place." She'd had to stop herself from saying "when you fell asleep on me." She didn't want to do anything to trigger Santana's defenses.

"Yes...I...I don't know why that is."

Brittany thought for a few moments. They were almost at her apartment building.

"So...just to be clear: You don't really like going home, so you spend way too much time at the office where you apparently sometimes drink alone. Also, you don't sleep well ever, so you don't really try anymore. Except you did sleep well when you were with me. Is all that correct?"

"You make me sound so pathetic," Santana responded. They were entering Brittany's building.

"Is that what it sounded like to you? I thought you just sounded in need of a friend," Brittany shot back quickly.

"I think we found the optimist among us."

When they entered Brittany's apartment, Santana didn't hesitate in the doorway as she had before. She immediately took her shoes off and went straight back to Brittany's bedroom. Brittany followed her, amused and curious.

When Brittany arrived, Santana was waiting, facing her.

"You almost killed my buzz, you know," she said with a grin.

"My apologies," Brittany responded, grinning back.

Santana marched forward with a determined look. Just that alone was almost enough to completely enchant Brittany.

"Where were we before? Somewhere...around here?" Santana asked, bringing her hands back up to Brittany's hips. This time she let her fingertips slip under Brittany's t-shirt, lightly tracing her skin. The internal combustion feeling was coming back quickly.

"You're going to kill me," Brittany said aloud. Her voice was staggered and weak.

"Which means you should probably stop fighting it," the brunette said seductively.

Well, that sounded wonderful.

Brittany raised her hands to Santana's button down. Though her voice had been shaky, her hands were steady. She looked into Santana's eyes as she undid the top two buttons. When she looked down, she could see the tops of a baby blue bra peeking out the woman's shirt. It was a wonderful contrast against her caramel skin.

When she looked back up, Santana was watching her with hooded eyes.

"Keep going," she commanded. Her voice was firm, and Brittany could feel wetness rush into her panties. But then, when every fiber of her body wanted to comply, that tiny voice in her head reminded her that Santana was under the influence. Knowing how she'd feel afterward if she continued, she clenched her jaw and took a step back.

"Damn it, Santana. We can't. I can't."

Santana looked confused at Brittany's words. It was a huge change from her amazing confidence from just seconds before.

"You don't want this?"

"Santana...I do. You have no idea."

"Well, I'm right here," she said and took the step forward that Brittany had taken back.

"You've been drinking. I can't."

Santana sighed and looked down. "You're so frustrating."

"That must be really annoying," Brittany said, half to herself. She saw Santana smirk, though. "Look, why don't you let me get you some clothes to change into? And then you can get some rest."

"In...in your bed?"

"Yes, I'm not going to make you sleep on the couch."

"Will you...will you get in with me?"

Brittany thought for a moment. In bed. With Santana fucking Lopez. Fuck. "If you promise to behave."

"Scout's honor," Santana said goofily.

Brittany gave her a small smile and went to the dresser for some pajamas. "Here, take these. I'm going to go get you some water."

When she returned with the glass, Santana was already under the covers waiting for her. Seeing the woman in her bed did not help with her "good behavior" attitude. She set the glass on the nightstand beside her.

"Drink some of this, okay? For me?"

Santana grabbed the glass and took a few tentative sips. Good enough. Brittany grabbed some pajamas of her own and took them into the bathroom to change. When she was finally crawling into bed, she felt a little nervous. How was she supposed to sleep next to this beautiful creature?

After she'd turned the bedside lamp out, she felt Santana's hand sneak over and take hers under the covers.

"Brittany?"

"Mm?"

"You're...well...thanks."

Brittany smiled in the dark.

"You're welcome, Santana."

Santana still hadn't let go of the blonde's hand. "Oh, and Brittany?"

"Hmm?"

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Santana."