Title: Rock Bottom
Pairing: Mentions of Brittana, Quinntana if you want to see it that way
Summary: Santana honestly has no idea what to do when she leaves the choir room. Post-3x01.
Rating: T
Warnings/Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: I own nothing. All rights for the characters and the world go to their owners. I, in no way, believe – or would lead others to believe – that I own Glee. Though, I would have no objections to having some time with this cast.

Author's Note: Quick thing I wrote after the episode. Share your thoughts.

Santana honestly has no idea what to do when she leaves the choir room. Schuester's words still ring in her ears like the bell at the end of class. She feels like she's being tossed out and she has somewhere to go, but where? Where the fuck is she supposed to go now?

"It was dumb of you to do that," a voice tells her. Santana nearly turns towards it, but she recognizes the voice from late night phone calls that were never mentioned again. She knows the slight huskiness better than anyone else, except maybe Quinn herself.

Santana says, "You lit it on fire."

Quinn shrugs. "You poured the gasoline."

"Aren't we just a match made in arson heaven?" Santana quips, turning towards her. Quinn grins at her, teeth shining more than they have since the whole Nationals fiasco. Even before if they're being honest. Santana misses that the most. Q's smile can light up a room when she actually means it. Too bad she's so deep in whatever fucking madness that's eating at her that she can't see the light. And really, who the fuck told her to dye her hair pink?

Quinn tugs at a strand of her hair, almost as if following Santana's thoughts. She releases it with a sigh.

"You picked the wrong side," Quinn tells her. "Team Sue only leads to ulcers, malnourishment, and a superiority complex that you really don't need."

"It also means I'm not a joke. We came in twelfth. Zizes ran away. I mean, Zizes, Q. I didn't want to be like ruler of the anti-arts campaign. I just want to win a Nationals competition and go to college somewhere where the sun is hot and everyone I meet kisses my ass like they're supposed to," Santana says.

Quinn rolls her eyes. "You're a coward and now you're paying for it. Sue's not going to take care of you."

"I'm taking care of myself," Santana declares. "Since some people care more about their bullshit than the team, I've got a lot to do. I've got to get out of this town, Q. I've got to... Our last call, I told you that I didn't know what I was doing. Do you know how hard it was for me to admit that? And then you left. You dropped off the grid and next thing I know you're a Skank! I mean, what the fuck?"

Quinn glances away. She mumbles, "I needed a change."

"Then try being yourself. Try admitting to yourself that when you said 'you don't want those guys', you didn't just mean the Glee ones going around like the bong at one of Azimio's parties. Then, get a fucking time machine and be my friend when I need you. Be there to stop me from setting a piano on fire. And I'll stop you from tattooing ancient B-list celebrities on your neck."

Santana's pissed. It's easier than being hurt or confused or whatever. She just needs some sort of stability in her life and that used to be Quinn. Used to be Brittany. Used to be the status quo. But every single one of those things started falling apart the day the Unholy Trinity took the assignment to spy on Glee Club. Two years, a handful of solos, and a heartbreak later, Santana wonders whether she's better for it or not. Right now, she's leaning towards the latter.


"Shove it," Santana barks. She straightens her shoulders and turns away from Quinn. She always did do great at walking away. Santana is the queen of waiting for others to crawl back to her. Quinn will crawl back, right?

She gets to the end of the hall before she recognizes that the footsteps aren't following her. She turns to look over her shoulder, but the hall is empty.

Maybe there's just a new status quo, one where the Unholy Trinity is actually just three very fucked up girls trying to stay afloat and the one they thought to be the strongest of them all shatters in the quiet of the halls. When she thinks of it like that, Santana knows exactly where to go.

Rock bottom.