Santana and I had tried to hold out as long as we could, but by the end of the week, it was becoming apparent that we were going to starve if we didn't go grocery shopping. Santana sat slumped at the kitchen island counter with her arms spread across the ceramic tiling. She was tapping her fingers at the edge of Rachel's plate of noodles until Rachel slid it further out of her reach. I glanced back from the pantry, smiling weakly as Quinn swatted Santana on the forehead.

"You are the laziest person in the world, Santana Lopez," Quinn said as she walked between us to the refrigerator. "If you're so hungry, make yourself something to ea-"

Quinn gaped at the open and nearly empty refrigerator. I shut the door to the pantry and leaned against the door, crossing my arms over my chest as I looked expectantly at her.

"We don't even have bread," I said. "Including Rachel's weird bread."

"You ate my bread?" Rachel snapped, dropping her fork on the plate.

"It was so gross," Santana groaned, rolling her face against the countertop. "We tried everything. Peanut butter, jelly, not even Nutella made it taste edible. And Nutella makes everything good."

Rachel's mouth hung open as she stared incredulously at Santana while Quinn rolled her eyes. She stepped forward and opened what I affectionately referred to as the 'everything' drawer. We had one at my house, and I assumed everyone had a drawer like it with all the random things that didn't have a specific place. Quinn somehow managed to keep it fairly organized, though. She pulled out a pad of paper and a few pens.

"I guess we all have to go shopping," Quinn sighed. The top page of the notepad was covered in doodles and notes, and it half of it looked like Santana's hand writing. There were a few stars on the page and one corner had a bunch of numbers written down on it. While I was intrigued by what was written on the page, I wasn't able to read much of it before Quinn flipped the page over to a clean slate and wrote grocery list at the top.

"I hate making lists with you two," Santana grumbled.

"It's not like we enjoy it anymore than you do," Quinn sneered.

"Do we just get groceries for the whole apartment?" I asked, moving between them. Quinn had told me when I first moved in that they shared food as long as everything was replaced, but I hadn't gone shopping with them collectively before.

"Yeah, generally we each pitch in," Quinn said.

"Except Rachel," Santana said, tilting her head to glance up at me with her cheek still pressed against the counter. "She buys weird food, so she gets her own cart and bill."

"My food is not weird," Rachel said, slapping Santana's outstretched arm. Santana recoiled, and pouted up at me.

"Nothing wrong with being weird," I said, smiling at Rachel. "But your food doesn't taste good sometimes."

"If you stopped stealing my food, you wouldn't have to worry about that," Rachel snapped, smacking her palm against the counter.

"I'll pay for a loaf of weird bread then," I said, grabbing a pen from the pile of them on the table. I quickly scribbled on the side of the page, and Quinn swatted my hand.

"Rachel owes me for groceries, anyway," Quinn said, arching her brow at Rachel for a moment before returning to her very organized list on the side. She had already started listing necessary items. "Check the freezer for vegetables and ground beef. Do we still have any chicken?"

"One sec," I said, scrambling up to check.

"We don't have any macaroni and cheese left," Santana complained. "Or microwaveable pizzas."

"Of course we don't," Quinn rolled her eyes. "Those would be the first things we'd run out of."

"There's no ramen noodles. Or Oreos. Or chips," Santana continued pathetically, burying her face into her arm.

"We can always count on Santana to list all the unhealthy things we need to buy," Rachel laughed.

"...We've been out of soda for weeks," she practically cried.

"Santana, I thought you were getting better at this whole fending for yourself thing," Quinn said, dropping her pen and leaning against the counter. Santana made a strange sound that didn't sound like English or Spanish, more just a noise of discontent.

I shut the freezer door and returned to her side, wrapping my arms around her waist. I bent over her, nudging her ear with my nose.

"If you don't cook food, I'm going to have to," I murmured. "And that could be a disaster."

Santana twisted and wrinkled her nose.

"I like dinosaur chicken nuggets."

"Me too," I chimed. "But I don't want to cause a mass extinction of chicken-made dinosaurs."

"That would be a tragedy," Santana replied quietly, smiling weakly at me before she sat up. She took a pen and then grabbed the pad of paper from Quinn.

"Hey!"

"Shut up, Fabray," Santana said as she started to scribble quickly on the piece of paper a variety of vegetables and a few spices. "Do we have potatoes?"

"Where do I find those?" I asked.

"Under the sink?" Santana wrinkled her nose.

"Check the floor of the pantry," Quinn corrected.

"Check the floor of the pantry," Santana repeated as she mimicked Quinn with a scowl on her face.

"When have you ever gotten a potato from beneath the sink?" Quinn asked.

"It's where my abuela stores them," Santana growled.

"That's not good. Leakage from the pipes under the sink could damage them-"

"-Shut up, Rachel, no one asked you," Santana spat.

"I'm just saying that it's potentially hazardous to your health," Rachel continued.

"No potatoes in either place," I announced. "But I made space for them in the pantry."

"Alright. Rachel, are we going to Whole Foods, then? Did you make your list?" Quinn asked. Rachel made a grab for the pad of paper, but Santana pulled it away like Rachel had pulled her plate away earlier.

"I would if Santana wasn't hogging the notepad."

"Hold on! I'm almost finished," Santana scowled.

"Honestly, they are children," Quinn groaned and shook her head at me.

"This is going to be fun," I said happily.

"How is this any better for you than the regular kind?" I asked, staring intently at the can of Whole Foods brand beef ravioli. It didn't make any sense. Not that I had a different can to inspect, but the ingredients listed on the side seemed like what I expected them to say. Canned food was canned food, right? What made it so much better?

"It's probably got less sodium in it," Santana said from across the aisle. Continuing to turn the can in my hands, my face screwed up as I read the label. "I'm sure it tastes better, too, Britt."

"How can anything taste better than Chef Boyardee?" I pouted, wrinkling my nose as I let my hand drop to my side. I slowly looked over the cans before directing my gaze to her. The corner of her mouth twitched as she stared back, her brow narrowing slightly. She licked her lips and glanced down the can for a second. She tried not to smile, and when she did, it was mostly with the one side.

"Are... Are you serious?"

I knew Santana was mostly amused and not mocking me, so I turned to grab as many cans as I could hold. I glanced up at her. "Do you think Quinn will notice if I put seven cans of ravioli in the cart?"

She was holding up different types of cream of mushroom soup. She looked back at me and furrowed her brow.

"I think she'll notice seven," Santana said, her smile breaking the stern expression on her face as she placed one of the cans back on the shelf. In the end, three raviolis still found their way into her basket, but only after she shifted the bread around so they wouldn't squish it. Her hand froze after lifting up the loaf and she picked up a brown container. "And you didn't think I would notice two jars of peanut butter?"

"You had peanut butter on your list," I said softly.

"We don't need two jars of peanut butter," Santana repeated.

"We got two loafs of bread."

"We'll eat two loafs of bread," Santana continued, nodding her head even though she didn't seem to understand. "But one jar of peanut butter is still more than enough."

"I thought we were getting things for each of us," I shrugged.

"We're getting things for the both of us," Santana said, furrowing her brow. She shook her head as she returned her gaze to the shelf and putting one of the cream of mushroom soups back. "We're not shopping as just roommates."

"Oh?" I said, faking ignorance. I turned to continue down the aisle. "And what are we shopping as?"

"As girlfriends..." She sounded a little disheartened as she dropped her hand at her side. I looked back at her when she let out an audible scoff, shaking her head in disbelief. I gave her a devious smirk, and her expression softened immediately.

"You just like hearing me say it," Santana scoffed lightly as she rolled her eyes and caught up with me.

"I love when you say it," I practically purred. The response I received was having the jar of peanut butter shoved into my chest. Not hard. Playful, but definitely not what I had wanted. I'd been prompting her to kiss me, but I guess she wasn't amused by the fact that I'd pretended I didn't realize we were dating. I pouted all the way back to the peanut butter and jelly part of the aisle. It wasn't until I put the jar back that she leaned in and gave me a tiny peck on the cheek.

"Purposefully grabbing two just to get a kiss is pretty cheesy," Santana murmured. I was definitely caught.

"I'd say nutty," I whispered, twisting fast enough to catch her lips before she retracted. It was short and sweet, and just long enough for her to cave in before I pulled away. I wanted more than quick pecks stolen between empty aisles, but I wasn't about to make Santana do something she wasn't comfortable with. It was much easier to encourage her to want it, though.

"What's next on our half of the list?" I said eagerly, snatching the grocery list from Santana's hand. We'd split up from Quinn and Rachel because they were getting all the produce items, and Santana warned me that we should leave because it would take forever. Apparently, they were notorious for being picky shoppers. "Right, cereal."

I quickened my pace back down the aisle. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Santana's slight frown as she tried to keep up.

"Slow down, babe," Santana complained. I immediately slowed to a stop and looked behind me. She did this thing with her lips that was a sort of half-pout, half-smile as she tilted her head to the side and stared up at me. I loved when she called me things other than Brittany. She rarely even said my full name, but it was usually a condensed 'Britt' over anything else. When she caught up, I smiled happily down at her. She took the grocery list from my hand and went on to use her other hand to try to catch the one by my side. I spent several seconds wiggling my fingers around so they barely ghosted against hers, until she hastily grasped my hand and gave it a firm squeeze.

"Stop it," Santana hissed.

"Stop what?"

"Whatever it is you're plotting," she replied softly.

"I'm not-"

"You're all smiles," she laughed. "You are up to something."

She tugged my hand, pulling me closer so she could kiss me. I sighed happily against her lips, wrapping my fingers around hers so they were woven together instead of just wrapped around her palm.

"Mission accomplished," I muttered as I pulled back.

"Shut up," she whispered. Fingers clung to my shirt, pulling my body closer. The way her smile grew ever so slightly when our eyes met and her nose crinkled as her gaze dropped to my mouth. The warmth of her lips on mine still gave me this tingling feeling; like drinking hot cocoa on a cold day. It was tender and flooded my whole body, from her lips to my heart.

I think we both forgot we were in the middle of an aisle in Whole Foods or that we were supposed to be on our way to get cereal. A giggle escaped her throat as I stepped back while tugging her towards me. Playful smooches were attempted to be exchanged as I spun her around. She let out a small, delighted shriek when I dipped her backwards. Despite my firm hold, her fingers dug into my arms as she did her best to keep the contents of our shopping basket from falling to the floor.

I grinned over her, arching my brows slyly as I lowered to kiss her again. She was trying so hard not to laugh. It made it even more difficult to catch her lips when she kept ducking playfully out of the way. I had just caught them when a loud sound chimed from her jacket pocket. It surprised me mostly because it wasn't one of Santana's custom ringtones. I think it surprised her for other reasons, because she suddenly pulled out of my arms and staggered upright.

"Hello?" Santana spoke curiously as she raised her phone to her ear. She glanced up at me and then averted her gaze. "Oh, hola, Abuela. Is everything okay?"

Santana took another step away from me and adjusted the basket on her arm. She licked her lips as the other person, her grandmother I assumed, spoke on the other end. It was hard not to notice she was nervous. Her hand twitched as she smoothed it over her jacket before she lifted it to run her middling finger over the edge of her lips, as if somehow her grandmother could see that her lip gloss was smudged. She caught me gazing at her and smiled for half a second before her attention was drawn back the phone.

"Hm? Abuela, tickets for what?"

Observing a one-sided conversation was always weird, but it was even weirder when Santana switched between Spanish and English. Tickets for what, indeed.

"No sé todavia. No, of course I know when my finals are. Si, Mayo 15. No, no, he planeado nada todavia-"

Santana hesitated, before letting out a loud sigh. She looked back to me and smiled weakly, rolling her eyes. She mouthed, my grandma. She held up her index finger and I gave her a warm smile in return. Santana rarely spoke of her family, but maybe that was just because they really never came up in conversation. I knew very little about her grandmother - only that she was there for Santana when Quinn got in a car accident and that Santana mentioned that her grandmother practically raised her.

"-Abuela, no sé todavía. Va a ser muy caro."

She exhaled again, shaking her head this time as she pressed her fingers to her forehead. The conversation sounded serious.

"I know. Solo pienso que por el tiempo que me quedaré, una habitación en un hotel seria demasiado." Santana waited and nodded her head. "Podria dejar que te quedes en mi habitición."

I stepped closer to Santana and could hear the Spanish on the other end of the phone get a little louder.

"No es un gran problema, me quedare en la habitación de Brittany-"

The woman on the other end of the phone seemed to explode with questions. I heard my name repeated amongst a bit of Spanish. Santana lifted her hand and swatted lightly at me as she smiled. It was reassuring.

"Abuela, Brittany es mi compañera de cuarto. Yo te dije que Tina se había mudado." Another pause. "Sí, yo sé que no hemos hablado desde ese tiempo. Y te lo estoy diciendo ahora, tenemos una nueva compañera de cuarto. No, ella no esta loca. Por qué tendriamos verificar sus antecedentes? That's insane. Stop it. Sí, nosotros hicimos un anuncio, recuerdas? Te dije-"

Santana's expression dropped into a frown as she stared absently at the shelf across from us.

"Abuela, yo confió en ella. Ella es una buena persona. Ella es una gran comañera de cuarto," Santana said, smiling at me. "A ella no le molestaria si yo me quedo en su cuarto, no es un gran problema. Sí, yo estoy segura. Mira tenemos que ir de compras al supermacado. Podemos hablar de esto luego? Sí, ella está aquí conmigo."

Santana lifted her hand to the phone and covered the bottom.

"My grandmother says hello," she rolled her eyes. Suddenly she dropped her hand from the phone and scowled, "No, you can't talk to her."

"I don't mind," I laughed. "As long as she doesn't mind English."

"Yes, she pays her rent on time! Grandma, we have to go. I'll talk to you later. Yo tambien te quiero. Adiós."

Santana quickly ended the call, holding her phone in front of her for a moment as she stared at it.

"Sorry," she replied, pocketing it before looking up at me and smiling. "She gets a little carried away sometimes."

"She sounds nice," I smiled back.

"Oh, she is not a nice lady," Santana laughed. "But she's a great grandmother."

"So she's your great grandmother or just a great grandmother?"

"My dad's mom," Santana said, lifting her hand and tapping my nose quickly as she turned around. "You knew what I meant."

I wiggled my nose and chased after her, sneaking my hands around her waist as I scooped her off the ground and back into me.

"Hey," she laughed. "What are you doing?"

"Walking," I said, scooting my toes at the back of her heel until I managed to wedge them between her foot and the floor.

"Walking?"

"Yes. Put your feet on mine," I instructed, holding her hands out at our sides. She cautiously repositioned herself and glanced back at me.

"I'm not squishing your toes, am I?"

"Nope."

"You sure?"

"It'll be fun," I laughed. It took a little bit of coordination on the first step and it was extremely slow going, but we managed to get about four tiles ahead when Quinn appeared in front of us with the cart.

"What the heck are you two doing?"

"Walking with one pair of feet," I said, kicking my foot up and forcing Santana's up as well.

"Explains why you're twice as slow," Quinn said. "Whatever, just come on. Rachel spent ten minutes arguing with me over what kind of grapes to buy," Quinn growled. "I just want to get out of this store."

"It's important to have grapes that aren't treated with so many chemicals, Quinn," Rachel scowled as she rolled up with her own cart. Her's was significantly less packed than Quinn's, but that was because Quinn had our groceries too. I spied the bag of grapes and giggled as Santana stepped off my feet and pretended like we weren't doing anything childish. Quinn rolled her eyes and opened her mouth like she was about to retort, but Santana caught her arm.

"Quinn, you forgot to grab green onions," Santana said as she sifted through the cart. As Quinn double checked the list, I saw Santana shove the cans of ravioli I put in her basket behind a box of pasta.

"Damn it," Quinn sighed. "I hate shopping with you guys. There are so many more people to keep track of."

"Give me the list," Santana said as Quinn turned the cart around. "Rachel, we'll meet you guys at the frozen food section in a sec, okay?"

Santana exchanged a glance with me and pointed to Quinn before slicing her hand at her neck. I smiled weakly and nodded my head. I guess I was appointed to Rachel.

"Why doesn't Quinn go off on her own if she doesn't want my input? We have separate carts!" Rachel snapped as she pushed it forward.

"I don't know," I said quietly. "But doesn't she usually get your groceries? She should understand better than any one of us what kind of food you eat."

"Exactly!"

"Do you two always argue?" I asked.

"It's not unusual..." Rachel said quietly. "Granted, Santana and Quinn argue more often, but it's not like Quinn and I were always friends."

"Is Quinn ever friends with anyone from the start?" I laughed.

"No, not really," Rachel laughed. "Unless you count Puck, and that went from good to bad instead-"

Rachel froze.

"Don't tell her I said that," she said quickly as she turned to me, biting her lower lip. She stared at me for a second before looking back down at the cart. "I still need to get vegenaise spread. Oh, and Ezekiel bread."

I wrinkled my nose and followed Rachel as she guided her cart towards. She obviously didn't want to talk about Puck and Quinn. Why was Puck such a sensitive issue with these girls? Was it the mohawk? I shook my head. Rachel, Quinn... even Santana. They all seemed like such independent people. Why did one person make them all so uncomfortable?

"Did I spy Santana hiding ravioli cans in your cart?"

I looked up at Rachel smiling at me. I hadn't realized we'd already found whatever vegenaise was. She held up a jar before depositing it in her cart.

"Don't tell Quinn," I laughed. "She can't complain if we get it to the checkout line, right?"

"I think that's how Santana's logic works," Rachel nodded. "She usually does the same thing with junk food. Quinn has only made her put food back once, and that's because she somehow managed to get four different types of pop tarts in the cart without Quinn noticing."

I smiled as I picked up the jar of vegenaise. It looked like mayonnaise.

"Can you tell me something else about Santana logic?" I asked as I dropped the jar back in the cart.

"Heh," Rachel huffed and smiled as she shook her head. "I can try."

"If Santana can cook so well, why does she always make you guys cook for her?"

"...I have absolutely no idea," Rachel laughed. "That took us all by surprise, but I think Santana has grown up with a lot of good cooking."

"You know her family?"

"I've heard of them," Rachel nodded. "Why?"

"Are they nice people?"

Rachel paused from pushing the cart and looked up at me.

"Why are you asking me and not Santana?"

"Because," I shrugged. "If someone asked you if your parents were nice people, you'd have a different opinion because they're your parents. Santana said her grandmother was not a nice person."

"Just between you and me?" Rachel said in a hushed voice as she looked up and and down the aisle. "Santana likes to either glorify or debunk the reputation her family has. She'll tell you she grew up in the wrong side of town one minute and then tell you her dad makes enough money to buy a Lamborghini or something the next. I don't think any of us know what's true. Maybe Quinn does."

"That's confusing," I frowned.

"A little," she said. "But I've met Santana's mom. At graduation. She's a very sweet lady. And Santana's grandmother was here in New York when Santana was moving into the apartment."

I looked expectantly at Rachel as we turned down the aisle towards the frozen food.

"Her grandmother is an intimidating woman," Rachel said. "She didn't speak much, and when she did, it was mostly in Spanish. But she wasn't unpleasant. That said, Santana is very close with her grandmother."

"And not with her parents?"

"They don't talk anymore," Rachel sighed. "They wanted her to go to a different school."

"I remember," I nodded.

"They call us sometimes," Rachel shrugged. "Well, they call Quinn. To check up. Santana doesn't know. Or if she does, she doesn't care."

"Santana has a way of caring about things without anyone thinking she cares," I replied, kicking my foot against the floor. Rachel stared at me a moment.

"You have very good insight, Brittany," Rachel nodded. "Maybe that's why she's so attached to you. She can't pretend with you."

Rachel turned and opened a glass door to one of the freezers. She pulled out a loaf of the familiar looking bread Santana and I had tried to eat back at the apartment.

"I wanted to ask before, why is that bread frozen?"

"It's Ezekial bread."

"That doesn't explain why it's a block of ice," I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

"It doesn't have preservatives in it-"

"Rachel's not making you buy that, is she?" Quinn asked, rolling her cart up behind us. I turned quickly, only to get caught in Santana's arms.

"Hi," I smiled. Santana grinned and leaned into me.

"Miss me?"

"Always," I replied, finding her hand and tangling my fingers with hers.

"I know I have to buy my own bread, Quinn," Rachel said as she dropped the loaf of icky frozen bread in her cart.

"I was just checking," Quinn said, smiling softly at Rachel. "Sorry for snapping earlier."

"It's okay," Rachel nodded.

"What did you say to her?" I whispered to Santana.

"I didn't say anything," Santana laughed quietly. "I don't care if Berry and Fabray bitch at each other."

"I do," I grinned. "They're kinda cute."

"Ew," Santana grimaced. "Just no."

Santana grasped my hand tighter as she returned to pushing the cart with her free hand. She had a hard time pushing it because it was almost full of groceries, so I used my free hand to help. We only had a few things left on the list, but we walked down every aisle to double check. Quinn and Rachel seemed to be in better spirits now that they had been separated for a bit, and Quinn was even asking Rachel's advice on what kind of rice to buy.

"I'm just going to get enough for all of us," Quinn said as she sifted through the cart to find a good place for the bag. I was just about to ask Santana what kind of bread she liked better for sandwiches, potato or white, when Quinn lifted up the box of pasta. She stared down at the cart and frowned.

"We didn't have ravioli on the shopping list." She looked up at Santana and arched her brow. "And I suppose the chips just found it's way into the cart too?"

"Uh..." Santana paused, glancing up at me for a second. She dropped her hand from mine and gripped the handle bar of the cart. "You see um... Britt, run!"

Before either Quinn or I could stop her, she was tearing down the aisle with the cart. I quickly ran after her, leaving a slightly dazed Quinn behind me. It wasn't hard to catch up with Santana, and when she swerved around the corner, she shouted something about getting to the checkout line.

"Santana! Brittany!" Quinn shouted as she gave chase.

"Slow down, Quinn," Rachel cried.

A dark brown couch pillow smacked Santana in the face just as she was leaning in to plant her lips on my cheek. She jolted backwards, startled, and quickly snatched the pillow away from her face. Rachel was glowering over us.

"I am so mad at you," Rachel growled.

"Thanks for the update," Santana said, tossing the pillow aside. "Like I didn't already know with you giving us the silent treatment all the way home."

"You know I get all of my groceries from Whole Foods!"

"You still have Trader Joe's," Santana said as she sat up. "And it's just 'cause you have to be all vegan that we can't go to a regular freaking grocery store. It costs so much more to shop there."

"I still can't believe we all got banned from the store because you two were racing to the checkout line," Quinn grumbled from the kitchen.

"You didn't have to run after us," I said quietly, leaning forward from the couch.

"She's just mad they lost," Santana said, sticking out her tongue at Quinn.

"We had the wonky cart with a bad wheel!" Quinn retaliated.

"Ha! So you did want to race," Santana shouted.

"All of you suck!" Rachel scowled. "If you don't like my lifestyle, just go to a different grocery store! I can go shopping on my own!"

I tensed as Rachel stormed off, stomping all the way up the stairs. Santana rolled her eyes as she got up off the couch, and I heard Quinn let out a loud sigh.

"Fix this," Quinn said, pointing the spatula in her hand at Santana. Santana moved to sit at a swivel chair, crossing her arms as she rested against the kitchen island.

"She's mad right now. I'm not about to go poke an angry diva," Santana sighed. "She'll have calmed down by the time Tina and Mike get here."

"Tina and Mike are coming over?" I sat up from my corner of the couch.

"Monday night movies," Santana said as she twisted in her chair. "Tina has off today 'cause Rory's dad is doing some family function at the bar."

I nodded and got up to join them in the kitchen. Santana stretched her arms out wide and motioned for me to come closer, and I complied, getting wrapped up in her arms. I caught Quinn roll her eyes, but also the small smile that appeared on her face as she did so.

"Don't change the subject. You still need to make it up to Rachel," Quinn said.

"I will. I can't fix it right now when she's so mad though," Santana nodded.

"We could make her something vegan for dinner," I suggested. "At least she'll know we're sorry."

"That might help," Santana agreed.

Santana and I spent the better half of an hour googling what exactly we could make with our newly acquired groceries. Although we'd been scolded and banned from Whole Foods for the chaotic cart race we had, they still let us purchase our food. Santana settled on some sort of pasta, and started to bustle about while Quinn and I sifted through the DVD rack next to the TV to find a good movie for tonight.

"Knock knock." Mike's voice came from the front door as it opened. He stepped inside, followed quickly by Tina, carrying two boxes of pizza.

"Mike!" I cheered, hopping up and scattering DVD cases all over the floor as I scrambled to give him a hug. He grinned and handed the pizzas to Quinn as he leaned back from my weight.

"Pasta and pizza," Santana observed. "Sounds like a good combo."

"Do you still have a key, Tina?" Quinn frowned.

"It's the spare," Tina announced as she held up the spare key.

"Oh, where do we keep that?" I asked. "Not that I've locked myself out. Yet."

"The mailbox," Quinn said.

"But we need a key to open the mailbox," I groaned.

"I keep my mail key separate," Quinn said. "But I suppose it'd be easier just to let Tina have the spare key in the event of an emergency."

"You trust me enough with that?" Tina asked, walking past to the kitchen.

"Enough to live with you for a year and a half already," Quinn laughed.

"Hey, chickadee," Tina said, squeezing Santana's arm as she moved to the refrigerator. She placed a 2-liter bottle of Pepsi inside. "Heard you got banned from Whole Foods."

"How did you know?" Santana frowned.

"Facebook," Tina shrugged. "Rachel's mad."

"God," Santana groaned.

"She'll get over it. We can watch Wizard of Oz to make it up to her," Mike said after twirling me around in a circle.

"I love that movie!" I cheered.

"I hate that movie," Santana groaned.

"The book was better," Quinn said, nodding her head.

"I didn't know it was a book," Tina said.

Pizza boxes and paper plates lay strewn across the floor. Once the movie ended, a half-asleep and still slightly grumpy Rachel bumbled her way up the stairs, escorted by an equally tired looking Quinn. Santana sat in her place, unable to move because a blonde beauty was fast asleep in her lap. She contentedly stroked her fingers through her girlfriend's hair, smiling in spite of the last angry glare Rachel had shot her on her way to bed.

"Mm," Mike exhaled as he stretched. Tina sleepily sat up, narrowly avoiding her boyfriend's arms. "We should probably help clean up."

"You guys are more than welcome to crash here for the night," Santana said in a hushed voice.

"I think someone already claimed the couch," Tina replied, gesturing to the long expanse of Brittany's legs that were stretched over the remaining cushions. Santana nodded, carefully maneuvering her own legs out from beneath the girl's head. She knelt down and gave the sleeping dancer a kiss on the cheek before joining Tina and Mike in gathering the trash from the room.

Santana grabbed a plastic cup as Tina stood up and smiled at her. She glanced around and her brow furrowed.

"What?"

"You were smiling like a fool," Tina laughed. "I take it you're not bothered enough by Rachel to let it dampen your Brittany high?"

"I'm not on a Brittany high," Santana scowled, snatching the plastic bag from Tina's hand and shoving the cup inside it.

"You have been ever since she moved in," Tina said, crossing her arms as Santana shuffled past her to grab more plates. "I'm surprised you haven't come back down yet. In fact, I thought you were afraid of heights."

"You said you'd take that to the grave," Santana growled through gritted teeth as she snapped up to point her finger at Tina. Tina laughed, unfazed by Santana's threatening hand.

"I'm just saying. I like smiling-for-no-good-reason Santana. I like her a lot better than forcing-herself-to-smile-because-she-noticed-someone-was-looking Santana," Tina replied, shrugging her shoulders as she took the plastic bag back from Santana. "You've changed a lot."

"I have not," Santana groaned. "You guys need to stop saying that."

"It's not a bad thing," Tina said. "I mean, you call me less. I was expecting to get texts and phone calls every night after I moved out. I hardly hear from you anymore."

"I'm... sorry," Santana muttered. She looked down at Brittany, and a weak, but warm smile spread over her lips. "It's just..."

"You've been busy falling in love, I get it," Tina said, pressing her hand against Santana's back. Mike stepped forward and took the bag of trash from Tina and smiling brightly. Tina twisted and looked up at him. "Do you still look at me like that when I'm asleep?"

"Every night," Mike nodded.

"Don't lie, half the time you fall asleep before I do," Tina said, whisking past both of them to the stairwell. "I'm going to say bye to Quinn and Rachel." Mike and Santana stared after her, watching quietly as Tina disappeared up the stairs. Mike let out a low groan and shook his head the moment Tina was out of earshot.

"Keeping your girlfriend happy twenty-four seven is really hard," he sighed. "They always have to be right."

"I don't know that I have that problem," Santana chuckled. "Yet, anyway."

Mike stood at Santana's side for a moment, his hands resting in his pockets as they silently observed Brittany. She moved, only once, to rub her face into her arm as she twisted to roll onto her stomach.

"Looks like she misses her snuggle buddy," Mike said.

"Jeremy is upstairs," Santana said seriously, crossing her arms over her chest. She glanced up at Mike and saw him grinning, and she smiled back.

"Trying to figure out how to get her upstairs?" Mike asked. "I can carry her if you want."

"No, it's okay. It'll go one of two ways," Santana replied, her smile broadening as she gazed down at her girlfriend. She leaned down to brush Brittany's hair back out of her face. "I'll wake her up and she'll sleepily let me drag her butt up to bed, mumbling and tripping all the way up the stairs... Or she'll whimper and complain, biting her lip while catching me around the waist to trap me in a bear hug just to keep me from moving her."

She stared down at Brittany for a second longer before looking back up at Mike.

"Either way, I'm perfectly satisfied with the end result," she whispered. She lifted the blanket off the back of the couch and draped it over Brittany's body, careful to cover her feet too. Mike ruffled Santana's hair lightly. She swatted his hand quickly and fixed her hair.

"Just figured I would offer," Mike said cheerfully, taking a step backwards at the scowl Santana wore. It faded, and Santana smiled pleasantly again.

"Thanks," she replied, dragging her fingers over Brittany's temple one last time before she stood up straight. "We should let her sleep and finish cleaning."

Mike nodded, and the two silently made their way back to the kitchen. Although initially impressed by Santana's proposition to clean, Mike was not at all surprised that Santana ended up seating herself at one of the bar stool chairs in front of the kitchen island as he was left with the remaining dishes.

"How have your classes been?" he asked with his back facing her.

"Things have been picking up a bit, because the end of the semester is still like a month away, but that means finals, finals, finals," Santana mumbled, pressing her cheek against her open palm as she poked and prodded a fork across the counter. Mike stretched and picked it up off the counter before it slide to the edge. Santana sat up and watched as Mike returned to the sink.

"You think they'll be hard? Your finals?"

"I hope not. I'm mostly worried about my independent study," she sighed. "But luckily Brittany's helping me with it..."

Mike glanced back at her, a wide grin growing on his lips.

"Helping how?"

"With choreography," Santana shrugged. She waved her hand at him, tilting her head away to hide a smile. "It's nothing special."

"Mm," he nodded, focusing back on the plate in his hand. "You know, Tina's right."

"About?"

"It's nice seeing you smile," Mike said, chuckling lightly. Santana flushed and lowered her gaze. "Even if you're embarrassed about it."

"Well, people smile when they're happy. It's like... a natural reaction," Santana grumbled.

"Glad you have things to be happy about again, Santana," he laughed. "Although I sort of missed it at Mercedes' party on Friday."

"Hm?" Santana looked up at him. She dropped both hands against the counter and shook her head. "Yeah, that was weird. Sorry. Puck was just getting on my nerves."

"Any particular reason why?" Mike wiped his hands dry on a towel and leaned against the counter as he turned to face her.

"You know, just... He keeps pushing," Santana sighed, raising her hand to her forehead. "He doesn't get it."

"Get what?"

"That I don't like him," Santana said. "I'm not saying, 'no, try harder,' I'm saying, 'no, I'm not interested.'"

Mike nodded as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Well, you know, I'm friends with both of you," Mike said, pushing away from the counter. "And it's not that I don't think that should be enough - you saying no. But I don't think Puck's all that concerned about that."

"What do you mean?" Santana said, narrowing her eyes.

"You've been pushing him away, completely. He's been back for months now, and you haven't really spent any time with him," Mike said quietly. "I know you two aren't dating anymore, but he's been beating himself up with what happened at the party."

"Well, he shouldn't have been so aggressive about it," Santana snapped. "He kept dragging me away from Brittany."

"Who he has no idea you're even dating," Mike replied cautiously, almost under his breath, as though he were afraid to speak too loudly. "He feels bad that you got so upset, Santana, but he doesn't have any clue why. And I know that it's hard for you to talk about stuff, this kind of stuff, especially with him... but you do need to talk to him."

"I'm going to," Santana sighed, looking to the dining table. "I am. It's just hard."

"I'm not saying you need to tell him about you and Brittany," Mike said. "But you do have to talk to him. Just set the record straight. He still thinks something is there."

"Set the record straight," Santana scoffed. "Ironic."

"There's a lot of bad blood between all of you. Quinn and Rachel too," Mike sighed. "But you've been able to put it behind you before, right?"

"Yeah," Santana exhaled. "Yeah, we have. I'll talk with him the next time I see him."

She had twisted in her chair, looking back to the living room. She stared quietly at Brittany, quite the opposite of absent-minded.

I inhaled deeply as cool hands found their way to my stomach. I blinked, but the darkness of the room was the same as when I closed my eyes.

"Shh," Santana whispered softly, lifting me up off the couch. I felt my body flounder for a second as I reached out for something that I couldn't see. My vision started to clear as I grasped the hands that had warmed since their initial touch to my body.

"Hey," she cooed. "It's okay, it's just me."

"Santana," I breathed. I felt my body relax immediately, and she let out a little 'oof' as she nearly dropped me back on the couch. I sleepily tried to sit up to help, but only managed to somehow tangle us together in the blanket that covered me. She laughed as we both struggled to tear our legs free. Once we'd managed to rid our bodies of the blanket, she twisted to her side. She managed to pull the blanket back over us and kissed my nose.

"Hi," I whispered. "Did I fall asleep?"

"You did," Santana replied, dragging her hand through my hair.

"Where did everyone go?" I asked, groggily turning my head to look out at the dark room.

"Home," Santana whispered. I looked back at her and smiled. She was fiddling with the tips of my hair. Even though it was dark and I was tired, I could tell her own smile seemed half-hearted. I leaned forward and kissed her properly. She seemed surprised by it at first, but after a pause, she seemed to melt into me. Or had I melted into her?

"You okay?" I asked. My lips brushed hers as I spoke, and again when she laughed.

"Yeah," she murmured. "Yeah... Ever just feel like your heart aches from loving someone a lot?"

"Mm," I nodded, feeling my nose bump against hers. I realized I couldn't see her anymore because I had closed my eyes. I could still hear her breathing, so I had to be awake. I nuzzled against her, feeling my cheek brush past hers as I instinctively nestled myself into the crook of her neck. I slipped my hand from her arm to her chest, placing it as gently as I could over the space that made the tiny thump-thumps that made my own heart flutter.

"It's called a heart attack," I murmured.

"...Yeah?" Santana breathed. She huffed and pulled me closer.

"Mm-hmm..." I tried to nod again. "Do you need me to take you to the hospital...?"

"I think I'll manage," she whispered. The last thing I knew before falling asleep was that she kissed my forehead.

"-I swear, no one ever even comes in on Wednesdays other than that old man," Santana sighed as she slipped past the bar to fill a new glass with ice. "What's his deal, anyway?"

"He's actually a really nice guy," Tina said, sliding into the chair in front of her. "Lonely, but nice. From what I know, anyway. He tells funny stories. Shouldn't you know more about him? You're the bartender."

"I've only been doing this for so long," Santana said, wrinkling her nose. "And he always sits over in the corner there. It's not like we talk."

"He likes you," Tina said, propping her chin with her hand. "He told me once he prefers you over Rory to mix his drinks."

"He only ever drinks a Tom Collins," Santana said as she poured gin into the glass. "It's not that hard to master something he orders every day."

"At least he tips well," Tina said.

"Yeah," Santana nodded. She silently continued to pour ingredient to the glass, garnishing it with a cherry and orange before sliding it to Tina. "Give him that, will you?"

"Maybe I should make you take it to him," Tina said, sticking out her tongue. "Get to know him a little."

"Thanks, but no thanks," Santana grimaced.

"Suit yourself," Tina shrugged and twisted around to deliver the drink. Santana leaned against the counter, looking out quietly at the near empty bar. Her phone buzzed against the inside of the counter, and she smiled.

Would it be okay? - Britt-Britt

Santana tilted her head to the side, watching as three dots appeared underneath the message signalling that her girlfriend was still typing a message.

Would it be okay? - Britt-Britt

Santana's brow furrowed at the repeated message, but the dots continued.

If I took your breath away...? - Britt-Britt

Santana's confused frown vanished as a smile replaced it. She immediately started to type a response, but a moment later, another message popped up. But instead of displaying a text message, it was a bubble with a picture in it. Not a picture, no, a video. Santana looked up again at the empty room before returning her attention to her phone. She tapped the play button, and after a moment of loading, Brittany's face popped up on the screen. She was laughing and the camera was shaky. Santana could make out another person behind her.

"Okay okay, it's on," Brittany squealed. Rachel appeared from behind her, swatting the spatula in her hand at Brittany.

"Do it again," Rachel shouted with a grin on her face. Brittany shook her head vigorously.

"Please don't make me do it again," Brittany laughed. She turned to face the camera as Rachel attacked her with a bear hug. "Santana help! Rachel's making me sing!"

"She has to," Rachel shouted. "You got me banned from Whole Foods!"

"I said I was sorry!"

"Sorry doesn't buy me groceries!"

"It's Santana's fault!" Brittany cried.

"What is that?" Tina asked, popping up next to Santana. Santana had her hand clasped to her mouth to hold back the fit of giggles that was taking over her body. She shook her head and just nodded at the screen.

"Santana will get what's coming to her, too," Rachel scowled. "You promised to sing it again!"

"Fine! Fine! Okay!" Brittany straightened up a bit, clamping her hands at her sides. She appeared to tremble a bit, and Rachel squeezed her again.

"I-," she squeaked. "I've never seen... a smile that can light the room like yours..."

"Is she singing to you? Or because Rachel's making her?" Tina asked. "This is cute. She looks so nervous!"

"Rachel's making her, of course she's nervous," Santana said through her hand. "Oh my god, she's so embarrassed."

"You're embarrassed for her!" Tina said, snapping up. "Oh my god, you're so red!"

"Sh-shut up!"

Brittany was tapping her hands at her side like she was trying to keep a beat, even though her arms were still squashed at her sides by Rachel's embrace. She nervously looked up at the ceiling as she sang.

"It's simply radiant... I feel more with every day that goes by..."

Rachel let go of her and took a step backwards, and Brittany immediately lifted her hands to cover her face.

"Keep going," Rachel scolded.

"I watch the clock to make my timing just right," she half sang, half murmured. "Would it be okay? Would it be okay...? If I took your breath away?"

Brittany's face was bright red now, even her ears were a tinged a few shades darker. Rachel laughed and placed her hands on Brittany's shoulders, swaying her back and forth.

"And I'm wasting away, away from you," Rachel sang encouragingly.

"And I'm wasting away, away from you..." Brittany repeated, nodding and slowly lowering her hands to peek at the camera. "What have I... gotten into... this time around?"

"I don't know this song," Tina shook her head. Santana swatted at her.

"Shh!"

"I know that I had sworn... I'd never trust anyone again, but I didn't have to..." Brittany sang, gulping nervously as her eyes shifted from the camera to glancing back at Rachel. "You had me at Hello."

"You gave me butterflies at the mailbox," Rachel sang softly.

"You had me at Hello," Brittany repeated.

"Good enough," Rachel said, finally letting go of Brittany to turn around and return her attention to the stove. Brittany scrambled forward and grabbed the camera.

"She wouldn't let me dance!" Brittany cried, and then the camera shut off.

Santana had finally caved to the laughter that was bubbling in her chest. She had to hold herself up by gripping the side of the counter. She was a little afraid of what sort of embarrassing punishment Rachel had in store for her, but she was also positive she was going to go home and pepper her girlfriend's face with kisses to make up for the second hand embarrassment she was feeling.

"Oh my God, poor Brittany," Santana giggled, carefully dabbing her finger at the corner of eye to avoid smudging her mascara.

"I know, it's like Rachel knew that song would be the most embarrassing-!" Tina's voice rose a pitch as she straightened. "-Puck!"

Santana shot upright as well, greeted by a concerned and confused looking Puck. He was seated across from them at the counter, and the arch of his eyebrow meant he'd been there long enough to witness them doubling over with laughter.

"What's so funny...?" he glanced between them and then to the phone in Santana's hand.

"R-Rachel made Brittany sing," Tina said quickly. Santana shot her a glare.

"That's funny because...?" Puck didn't seem to follow.

"She's a dance major, not a singer," Santana said, shoving Tina lightly. "You should get back to your post if people are coming in."

"I'm not just a 'people'," Puck said as Tina brushed past him on her way out from behind the bar.

"That would be because you're a person, not a 'people'," Santana said, rolling her eyes.

"Obviously not the person you wanted to talk to," Puck replied, leaning back in his seat. Santana froze mid-turn, and glanced up at him. She shook her head and sighed.

"Sorry," Santana murmured. "Of course I want to talk to you."

"Yeah? You don't act like it," Puck sighed, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked to the side, tilting his head back in exasperation.

"I've had a weird... whatever. Month? Semester, even," Santana shook her head and turned as she brought her phone back up to type a response to Brittany.

It's definitely okay, babe. :3 Can't talk right now, okay? I'll be home soon. -

When she finished typing, Santana looked back up to Puck. He was still seated in the chair, pretending not to give her any attention. She sighed and pocketed her phone.

"Do you want something to drink?" she asked as politely as she knew how. "On me?"

Puck glanced at her, held his gaze a moment, and then slowly sat forward.

"A coke," he mumbled.

"Rum and coke, got it," Santana repeated with a tiny smirk.

"Just a coke," Puck corrected.

"Last I heard, guys couldn't get pregnant," Santana said as she dropped a few cubes of ice in the glass.

"I wanna talk."

"We are talking," Santana said with a smile.

"I want to talk," Puck repeated. "And you get off soon."

"Oh." Santana paused over the glass. She looked up and past him to where Tina stood at the host kiosk. She was speaking with customers - no chance of avoiding a talk with Puck. She could call or text Brittany, think up some excuse.

"Is that okay?" Puck asked, snapping Santana out of her thoughts. She looked down at him as he gazed sheepishly up at her. "I mean, you're mad at me, right? I don't want to bother you if you're still pissed off."

"I'm not mad at you," Santana said, wrinkling her nose.

"You're mad about something," Puck said. "And you only seem mad when I'm around. There's a correlation."

"I'm not mad," Santana repeated. "I'm just..."

The wave of a hand from the end of the bar caught Santana's eye. She smiled weakly at Puck and backed up a step.

"Annoyed is too strong of a word," Santana said as she lifted the glass of coke up to the counter. "But it's the only one I've got. Can this wait until I get off?"

"...Yeah, sure," Puck nodded.

"I'll be back."

"I'm surprised it's not raining," Puck said, stepping along the sidewalk next to Santana. She stared up at the sky and gave a tiny nod. It was late, and not a lot of people were out, but there were still a few lights that kept the street aglow. They walked along in silence for a bit longer, before Puck spun around and smiled.

"Three years ago, did you ever think either one of us would be living in New York?"

"No," Santana replied. She jammed her hands in her coat pockets as she smiled at him. "Three years ago, this time of year, I was sure I was going to be stuck in Lima forever."

"What about me?"

"I don't know what I thought you were going to do," Santana shrugged. "Pool cleaning in L.A. was the dream then, wasn't it?"

"Sad, right?"

"Little bit," Santana chuckled. "More of a dream than I had."

"Nah," Puck said, elbowing her arm lightly. "You've always had the dream, just not the balls to believe in it."

"Is that so?" she replied, arching her brow.

"Yeah, I mean," Puck shrugged. "I know you. Everyone knows you're a great singer, even you do. But you don't believe that you can go anywhere with it."

Santana kicked at the ground, remaining silent.

"You know we all believe in you, right?" Puck said, looking up at her. "We- No, I make jokes sometimes. At your expense. Like at the party, I didn't mean to make a big deal out of you not singing. Dreams change, right? I mean, you've changed. I'm sure your dreams are different too."

Santana stopped in her tracks and looked after Puck as he kept shuffling forward. He stopped and turned to lean against a parking meter, his hands jammed in his pockets for more reasons than the cool night breeze.

"Have I changed that much?" Santana asked, leaning against the wall of the building across from him.

"Different than from when I left a year ago," Puck replied.

"I like that I'm different," Santana admitted.

"I didn't say it was bad," Puck sighed. "Just, that you are. Not saying I don't miss how it used to be."

"And how did it used to be?" she asked quietly, as if she didn't want to know the answer.

"A year ago, you wanted to get out of here," Puck chuckled. "I offered to let you join my band. We were going to go everywhere. Travel. Play gigs. Screw around."

"Sounds downright glorious," Santana scoffed. She caught herself and shook her head. "I mean... it did have a certain appeal."

"That offer always stands, Santana," Puck said sheepishly.

"I want a degree, Puck, I told you then," she said with the same stern look she'd given him a year ago.

"...You know I'm sorry about that." Puck looked up at her and pushed away from the parking meter. "I know an education means something to you. I didn't get it then, 'cause I'm not in school. But you're right, eventually I'm going to need someone to record my music, right? I didn't mean to make you feel like you weren't pursuing your dreams. You are."

"I'm not," Santana chuckled. "I am, but I'm also not. And it's fine, Puck, we just chose different paths."

Puck stepped closer. He looked down at Santana with a calm smile.

"I gotta admit, I wish those paths would meet again."

"Puck..." Santana murmured. She scooted to the side against the wall.

"It's not ever going to happen, is it?"

"No," Santana said softly. He sighed and twisted around to lean against the wall next to her.

"Can I at least know why?"

Santana stared down at her feet, pressing the tips of her toes together as she appeared to search the cement sidewalk for answers. There were blackened marks from residue of whatever had fallen on it, but no words to find their way to her mouth. She tilted her head back to look up at the top of the buildings again.

"There are a million reasons why, Puck," Santana sighed. "But the main one is... I could never love you the way you loved me."

"You don't know that-"

"I do, I do know that," Santana replied, looking over to him sadly. "Puck, I wanted to. I tried to..."

"Then what-"

"Puck, let me... just let me get this out, okay?" Santana lifted her hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. "It's still really hard for me to say, but there's not any easy way for me to say it. Puck, I like... girls."

The last syllable from her tongue felt like it lingered in the air. Maybe not a tangible object, but a presence in it's own right. For a second, there was silence. Then, Santana braved seeking out eye contact. She looked up at him to see his brow furrowed in confusion, but a wave of relief washed over her. He was confused, but his expression was anything but angry.

"Puck... I wanted to tell you so many times," she continued. "I mean, for years, it was about saving face and just... I couldn't even admit it to myself, and just... It's been this constant internal struggle, you know?"

She shook her head and let out a small laugh.

"No, of course you don't know. It's... I was never happy before. With you. I was lying to myself and everyone else, trying not to be eaten alive in high school. But I got so used to hiding how I felt, it was easier just to stay that way." Santana twisted her fingers nervously in her hands. Puck wasn't talking. He was just leaning against the wall, caught in a daze. One moment, she'd been at a loss at words. The next, she was saying everything at once, but nothing felt like the right thing to say. The only thing that ever felt right was Brittany.

"You're so important to me, Puck. That's why it was so hard to tell you. You've always been honest with me, even though I've always lied to you," she continued. "What I'm trying to say is... I was just never happy. Because I was lying. With Brittany, I don't have to lie about how I feel. I just am. I'm me."

Puck shifted, and Santana looked up.

"...Brittany?"

"Yes," Santana nodded.

"Brittany is your...?"

"My girlfriend, yeah," Santana breathed. She looked down, slowly taking her phone from her pocket. She smiled weakly as she swiped her finger at the screen. "I never thought anyone could make me so happy. She's funny and sweet, and a little bit of a dork, but-"

"Your roommate," Puck interjected. He sounded a bit distant, as though he hadn't heard anything she just said. "The girl you met barely two months ago?"

Santana looked up. Her smile faded at his tone of voice.

"You're banging some chick you barely know, and I'm supposed to just... what?" Puck tossed his hand up in the air as he twisted away. "Fuck, Santana."

"Puck, I'm not banging some chick, Brittany is my girlfriend," Santana said defensively. She took a step forward and furrowed her brow. "I... I love her."

"Love...?"

Santana hesitated, scanning his expression for a moment to gauge her response.

"Yes," she admitted, puffing out her chest a bit. "I love her. God... Puck, I didn't even know what love was before her."

Puck lifted his hand to his forehead as he shook it, taking a step away from her only to double back. He didn't appear to have any direction, just the need to propel his body forward.

"And what? What do you want from me, Santana? To forget that the last four or five years didn't happen? That none of it mattered? Well, it mattered to me. You want me to just be okay with the fact that you can throw away our entire history over a girl you just met? Is that it?"

"You're overreacting!"

"What the fuck did you expect?"

"-I expect you to support me!" Santana shouted.

"Support you?" Puck recoiled. "You fucking lied to me, Santana. Not over something small like a missed date or some shit, but the whole damn thing. The whole fucking thing was a lie!"

"That is not true," Santana snapped, pushing away from the wall. "I-"

"You know what, no," Puck snapped, tossing his hand out to the street. "If I'd have come back two months ago and you told me then instead of pulling me to the back of the bar to make out, then maybe I'd have a little sympathy."

"You were the one that pulled me to the back of the bar-"

"It doesn't matter, Santana," Puck shouted. He exhaled heavily and took a step backwards. "You should have said something then. You said so yourself, you've been struggling with it for a long time. Why did you have to keep stringing me along with you?"

Santana's shoulders fell slightly as her gaze dropped to the ground. She could hear his heavy breathing as he waited for a reply. There was nothing she could think of to say.

"You made me feel like I was important in your life," Puck said. "Fuck, Santana, do you know how much that meant to me? After high school, I felt like such a fucking loser, and then... Damn it!"

Puck twisted around, clenching his fists. She tensed, waiting for him to shout again. Instead, he let out a loud sigh and shook his head.

"Heh," he scoffed. "I hope she can handle it."

Santana's brow furrowed as she looked up to catch his gaze.

"Dating someone like you. Shit, Santana, you're still just... you really had me going, thinking you'd changed," Puck sighed. "I guess the most you've changed is back to that self-centered bitch from high school. But now you're a liar, too."

A/N:

Who was the fool...?

Puck's Song: Your Biggest Fan by Never Say Never

Brittany's Song: You Had Me At Hello by A Day to Remember

English Translation of Santana's phone call with her abuela:

"Hello?" Santana spoke curiously as she raised her phone to her ear. She glanced up at me and then averted her gaze. "Oh, hi grandma. Is everything okay?"

Santana took another step away from me and adjusted the basket on her arm. She licked her lips as the other person, her grandmother I assumed, spoke on the other end. It was hard not to notice she was nervous. Her hand twitched as she smoothed it over her jacket before she lifted it to run her middling finger over the edge of her lips, as if somehow her grandmother could see that her lip gloss was smudged. She caught me gazing at her and smiled for half a second before her attention was drawn back the phone.

"Hm? Grandma, tickets for what?"

Observing a one-sided conversation was always weird, but it was even weirder when Santana switched between Spanish and English. Tickets for what, indeed.

"I don't know yet. No, of course I know when my finals are. Yeah, May 15th. No, I haven't planned anything yet-"

Santana hesitated, before letting out a loud sigh. She looked back to me and smiled weakly, rolling her eyes. She mouthed, my grandma. She held up her index finger and I gave her a warm smile in return. Santana rarely spoke of her family, but maybe that was just because they really never came up in conversation. I knew very little about her grandmother - only that she was there for Santana when Quinn got in a car accident and that Santana mentioned that her grandmother practically raised her.

"-Grandma, I don't know yet. It's going to be really expensive."

She exhaled again, shaking her head this time as she pressed her fingers to her forehead. The conversation sounded serious.

"I know. I just think that for that much time, a hotel room is too much." Santana waited and nodded her head. "I could let you stay in my room?"

I stepped closer to Santana and could hear the Spanish on the other end of the phone get a little louder.

"It's not that big a deal, I'll just crash in Brittany's room-"

The woman on the other end of the phone seemed to explode with questions. I heard my name repeated amongst a bit of Spanish. Santana lifted her hand and swatted lightly at me as she smiled. It was reassuring.

"Brittany is my roommate, Grandma. I told you, Tina moved out-" Another pause. "I know we haven't spoken since then. I'm telling you now, we have a new roommate. No, she's not crazy. Why would we do a background check on her? That's insane. Stop it. Yes, we made an ad, remember? I told you-"

Santana's expression dropped into a frown as she stared absently at the shelf across from us.

"Grandma, I trust her, okay? She's a good person. She's a great roommate," Santana said, smiling at me. "She won't mind if I crash in her room, it's not a big deal. Yes, I know for sure. Look, we're grocery shopping. Can we talk about this later? Yes, she's right here with me."

Santana lifted her hand to the phone and covered the bottom.

"My grandmother says hello," she rolled her eyes. Suddenly she dropped her hand from the phone and scowled, "No, you can't talk to her."

"I don't mind," I laughed. "As long as she doesn't mind English."

"Yes, she pays her rent on time! Grandma, we have to go. I'll talk to you later. I love you too. Bye."