A/N: I don't own Glee nor the characters within. The first line was supplied by Shade Asylum, then I went on from there. *grins*

"You don't know who you are so you don't know who you're not."

"That doesn't make any fucking sense."

"I won't let you hide behind profane language, Santana. Please. Sit with me."

"I'm not going anywhere near you."

"Then can you at least close the door and get comfortable somewhere else? I want to talk to you."

"Yeah, cuz' you're never not talking. Why should I stay?"

"...Because you have no one else to talk to."

"Screw you."

"Santana! Please. I wasn't trying to be insulting. It was an observation."

"So you're watching me now? Becoming a stalker?"

"I don't need to follow you around to see you're unhappy, Santana."

"Then why the hell are you always around when I look up? It's like I can chuck a rock in any direction and hit you. I wouldn't be surprised if you had an army of freaky-ass clones or something."

"I don't. That's because you're looking for me."

"Uhm, no. You assault my eyes with your hideous excuse for a wardrobe daily. Why would I want to look at you?"

"Because you're not looking at my clothes. You're looking at me."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Me."

"Of course you can't go ten seconds without talking about yourself."

"No. Santana, you're always looking at me because you're lonely. It's obvious you're going through some intense mental contemplation, and I'm fairly certain your subconscious knows I have experience in working with deep, unrequited issues."

"Are you even listening to yourself?"

"Well, it was either that or you're attracted to me. I don't have too much confidence in that, however."

"Yeah, cuz' anyone's attracted to your giant nose and freakishly short body."

"Though my nose may be a little larger than the ideal proportion, you cannot make me feel bad about it. I love my nose, and, like Barbra Streisand, I shall embrace it wholeheartedly. As for my freakishly short body, may I remind you I'm only three inches shorter than you?"

"At least I'm above average. Does it get embarrassing having to use a high chair when you go out to eat?"

"Because I know you use insults as a way to shield yourself from confronting your real issue, I will let that one slide. Santana. Aren't you tired of pushing people away?"

"Ohh my god. Stop. Trying to. Dr. Phil me. Besides, you're not doing it right. I'm pretty sure people don't want to punch Dr. Phil when he speaks. You, on the other hand…"

"Mmhm…?"

"Do I really have to repeat myself? You. Talk. Too much."

"Well, at least I am capable of keeping up a conversation. I pride myself on providing scintillating rapport to allow intelligent and worthwhile dialogue to happen. It's not my fault most of the people around me aren't smart enough to keep up."

"…Wow. Let me check my – no, I don't even have to. My internal clock tells me it only took you five minutes to put down everyone who is not you."

"Not to give merit to what you just alleged, but are you any better at any given moment?"

"Hey, someone has to keep it real. People suck."

"…And you're not afraid to tell them so, right."

"Totes truth."

"I see. Is that a byproduct of you struggling with your attraction to females?"

"Excuse me?"

"I have to say that I expected some sort of acknowledgment of your feelings for Brittany after your highly emotional rendition of Landslide – even if, perhaps, it might have been more effective if you two had taken more of a lead role than that of backup singers – because I thought you had finally made a breakthrough of your sexual identity. Though I know it's not my business, I like to think that growing up with two fathers has prepared me for being capable of relating to a confused teenager such as yourself."

"Okay, no no no no no. You? Strawberry Shortcake? You're one to talk. Hanging all over the incredibly stupid Hudson when you're obviously jonesing for the pot of honey in Lady Land."

"I'm sorry, but even if there's nothing wrong with falling in love with or… Being attracted to another female, I'm afraid you're mistaken about me."

"Hmm. Let me guess. You're afraid to be seen as the gay kid of the token gay couple. How hypocritical of you."

"Santana, I resent the negative spin you're putting on if indeed I was homosexual. Which I am not. Now, we're here to talk about you."

"No, no, I like this better. Tell me. Who gets you hot? Quinn? Brittany? Or maybe you prefer asian cuisine. Tina? Dark chocolate? Mercedes?"

"You're being disgusting."

"No, I's be keepin' it real. You're obviously a repressed lesbo."

"…Fine. Let's engage in a sort of dramatic exercise. You can hold nothing against me, as this is only in hopes of facilitating your own breakthrough while simulating my own."

"You want to hold Quinn against you."

"Excuse me, I wasn't done setting up the scene. Alright. For the sake of playing along, what would you do if I were to say I was, as the apparently "gay kid of the token gay couple", attracted to you? Now, I know you have a rather vocal dislike of me, and you by no means find me attractive, though I happen to disagree and am quite satisfied with my own physical attractiveness, I – "

"This is whack. I'm out of here."

"Santana, it's just roleplay."

"For what? You to get your jollies off by giving in to the deep, dark desire you've obviously had for me? Yeah, I don't want to be around your thinly disguised dry humping."

"Santana."

"Call Quinn. She'd be up for it."

"But I don't want Quinn. I want you."

"Okay, yeah, I just threw up in my mouth a little."

"Roleplay!"

"Oh my god! You want roleplay?"

"Yes."

"No, I'm really asking here. You want me… To roleplay… With you?"

"Yes."

"Ask me again what I would do if you told me you were attracted to me."

"Alright. Okay. Setting the scene: I'm Rachel Berry, young ingénue. After growing up realizing that I do not mind the companionship of other females, helped by growing up in a healthy, loving household of two fathers, I have found myself attracted to the fiery, popular Head Cheerleader, Santana Lopez. I have no hope of ever catching her eye, but that does not stop the burning feelings of love and attraction that well up inside of me every time I catch glimpse of her. And now, after careful planning of luring Santana to my house with the ploy of tutoring her, I have finally built up the courage to confess my feelings, hoping I am not making the worst mistake of my life. I – "

"Still waiting."

"Rrr. Fine. Santana. I know we don't have too much in common, and that I am barely on your radar, but that hasn't stopped me from feeling things I cannot deny anymore. I know not where they came from, but they are true and pure and overwhelming. And with this overwhelming feeling, I feel it would be untruth if I were not to confess – ."

"Jesus Christ, I'm still waiting!"

"I'm attracted to you!"

"Great. Wanna fuck?"

"E-excuse me?"

"Hey, you're the one who told me you wanted in on me. And if I'm the sexually confused moron you're telling me I am, why not find out if I like pussy by using yours?"

"I… I, uhm, this is surprising."

"I bet. You wanna mack first or gets straight to the goods?"

"…So you return my feelings?"

"We can pretend I do if it means I gets in on that fucking hot body of yours."

"You – you think I'm hot?"

"No. God no. But my character does. So shut up and stop breaking character. C'mere. You needs out of that sweater."

"This is going a little fast…"

"Hey, you were the one who talked about 'burning passion' or some such shit. Mmm… Damn, you're hot. Mmhm. No – arms around me. You're not fuckin' shy, so stop acting like you are. You want me, so show it. Isn't what you want right in front of you?"

"…Yes…"

"What?"

"Yes!"

"Then kiss me!"

"Mmm!"

"Mmm – ? …Mmm."

"…"

"…"

"…Ohh…"

"Damn."

"…Santana…?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm not pretending anymore."

"Hmm."

"To be honest… Mmhh. I don't think I could be."

"I will ends you if you ever tell anyone this, but me too."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Don't blow it."

"Sorry."

"Just shuts it and use those lips for somethin' better."

"Oh…!"

"…"

"…"

"...Yeah."

"…Oh my – Okay, okay, no. This is wrong."

"I believe I was using that tongue."

"This has gone much farther than I meant it to. I can't believe I let it get so out of control."

"I'm telling you now – that wasn't out of control. You're still clothed, aren't you?"

"That doesn't mean anything! I mean, it shouldn't mean anything. Santana, you – me – what are you doing?"

"Making myself comfortable."

"I can see that. Why are you making yourself comfortable on my bed?"

"Because, Berry, it's like this. We both know we'll end up here at some point this night. I'm only speeding it along. So why don't you give up your fake protests and gets over here. Don't you wants what I'm offering?"

"…I have to warn you I have no idea what I'm doing. And I promise – I promise – that I will put a stop to things before it gets too far. Do you understand? I'm serious about that, and I need you to respect that. Respect… Respect me."

"I can't believe – okay, okay, fine. Whatever. I's respect you and your berries. Now shut up so we can get back to mackin'."