A/N: Wow the number of alerts and favourites I got on the last chapter was insane! Thanks so much. I had fun writing this one, I hope it doesn't disappoint!
"What is that anyway?" Rachel asked as Santana opened one of the bottles and pulled two pink shot glasses out of her pocket.
"Galliano," Santana replied absently.
"That stuff that smelled like black liquorice?" Rachel asked, wrinkling her nose.
"Yep," Santana grinned as she opened one of the bottles and poured the blue liquid into the shot glasses.
"Santana," Rachel said hesitantly, eyeing the shot glasses.
"Yes?" Santana asked, finally turning her full attention to Rachel, one eyebrow raised and her face a picture of vague annoyance.
"I…," Rachel flushed in embarrassment.
"Spit it out Berry," Santana commanded.
"I…I've never done shots before," Rachel admitted, flushing an even darker shade of red.
"Eh, no time like the present to learn," Santana shrugged and handed her one of the shot glasses. Rachel eyed it nervously. "Don't worry. It's not like tequila or anything. It's sweet. Training wheels shot," Santana told her. Rachel hesitantly dipped her finger into the liquid then licked it. It burned a little bit going down but Santana was right; it was sweet and easy to swallow. "Cheers," Santana held her shot out and Rachel bumped hers against it. They both downed their shots, Rachel coughing a little at the burn as she swallowed hers. Santana smacked her on the back a couple of times to help her clear her throat. "See? Not so bad right?"
"No not really," Rachel replied feeling the warm burn of the alcohol flare in her stomach. She cringed as Santana refilled their glasses and handed Rachel's back. She was obviously trying to get drunk as quickly as possible. Rachel quietly did the second shot and then licked her lips before carefully broaching the topic. "Santana are you sure this is a good idea? Getting drunk isn't really a good way to deal with things-," she was stopped by Santana reaching over and gently pinching her lips closed with her fingertips.
"Ssshhhh, Berry. Drink your booze and be happy," she said gently patting Rachel's arm, her voice sounded like trouble. "We need drinking music," she announced a moment later. "Oh! Or a drinking movie!" she suggested.
"Ok," Rachel nodded. "Movies are in that cupboard," she pointed and Santana darted over to open the large cabinet door and started scanning titles.
"Oh, The Hangover!" she pulled the case out, beaming at Rachel. "Please Rachel?" she put on her best imploring face and Rachel couldn't help but laugh at the expression. It was like a human version of Puss In Boots from Shrek, all wide eyed and innocent.
"Go ahead," Rachel gestured at the TV. Santana let out a little happy squeal and turned to put the DVD on.
"But it's the wrong Doug!" Santana wailed drunkenly into Rachel's lap as Rachel petted her hair and back like she was a cat, in an attempt to calm her down.
"Bu' they find the right one soon, 'member?" Rachel slurred. "It all turns out ok," she soothed.
"But…but…they thought they found him but it was the wrong one!" Santana started wailing again, apparently not placated by Rachel's petting and reassuring. "I need a hug!" she cried. Without waiting for an answer she threw one leg over Rachel's lap, her arms around her neck and essentially plastered herself to Rachel's front, her head coming to rest on Rachel's shoulder.
"Whoa," Rachel commented, completely unprepared for that level of physical contact.
"Ssshhhut up, Berry! This is how I hug ok?! It's not weird!" Santana wailed, sniffling and hiccupping slightly afterward.
"You're ssso drunk right now," Rachel commented dreamily.
"So are you! So are you!" Santana defended herself.
"I'll have you know," Rachel grabbed Santana's upper arms and pushed her back to look at her. "That I am faaairly sssober right now," she frowned at her slurred speech. She hadn't had that much had she? When she glanced at the one empty bottle and the one two thirds full on the table she realised she may have had more than she thought.
"No! No!" Santana threw herself off Rachel's lap and face first into the cushions at the end of the couch. "I want Brittany! I want Brittany!" she wailed after a few moments of quiet sobbing. Rachel shifted, managed to get into a decidedly wobbly kneeling position beside the couch and started to stroke Santana's back again. Santana stopped crying a few moments later and sat up abruptly. "I'm gonna call her," she said firmly.
"I don't think that's such a good idea, S'tana. I think we might be a little inox- inox in…uh…drunk," Rachel informed her.
"I don't care!" Santana's face crumpled again and Rachel reached out intending to pet it but Santana pushed her hand away as she pulled her phone out of her pocket and clumsily tried to select Brittany's name in her contacts.
"Santana-," Rachel started but Santana threw her hand up.
"Shhh 's ringing," she had stopped crying again.
"Santana?" came a voice from the other end, somehow she had managed to hit the speaker phone option but she appeared not to notice that, holding the phone up to her ear anyway.
"Britt Britt?" Santana whimpered pathetically.
"Ugh Santana you hit the wrong button again," Quinn said exasperatedly.
"Who's this?" Santana asked, a lone tear slipping down her cheek.
"It's Quinn," Quinn sounded a bit concerned now. "Honey where are you? Are you alone?" she asked and Rachel could hear rustling on the other end of the phone that sounded like Quinn getting dressed.
"She's at my house," Rachel called out loudly.
"Rachel?" Quinn asked, confusion lacing her voice.
"Yes?!" Rachel was still yelling.
"Oh my God, you let her get you drunk didn't you?" Quinn asked, exasperation replacing concern again.
"Maybe jus' a little!" Rachel yelled back.
"Rachel stop yelling, the phone is on speaker and- Santana are you crying again?" Quinn cut herself off mid way through scolding Rachel. Santana had begun to sob the most pathetic little sobs as tears streamed down her cheeks.
"No!" she wailed in reply.
"Ssshhh it's ok," Rachel slurred, petting Santana's hands where they were now holding her phone in her lap.
"Stop petting me! I'm not a cat! I bet you like strokin' pussies don' you Berry?" Santana tried for snark but snark didn't tend to come off well when it was issued nonsensically in a drunken blubber.
"That doesn't make sense," Rachel mumbled to herself, brow creased in confusion as she tried to figure out where that conclusion had come from.
"Santana I think it's bedtime now huh?" Quinn suggested.
"No! No! I want to talk to my Brittany!" Santana wailed in protest.
"Santana, I don't think that's a good-," Quinn started. Santana abruptly stopped crying and her face turned to an expression of drunken annoyance
"NO! I'm hanging up now Fabray cos you and Berry both suck!" she told her.
"Ok, but how is hanging up on me going to shut Rachel up?" Quinn countered. She still sounded exasperated but now she also sounded vaguely amused.
"I don't know!" Santana replied, tone aggressive and challenging. "I'll figure it out." She said sulkily. "I'm hanging up now," she informed Quinn.
"Well ok. Drink some water before you go to sleep," Quinn told her in the most condescending motherly voice she could summon up. "Don't call Brittany until you've sobered up!"
"You're not the boss of me," Santana replied petulantly, glaring at the phone in her hand.
"Bye Santana," Quinn laughed.
"Bye Quinnie! I love you!" Santana called, her mood swinging abruptly again.
"I love you too," Quinn replied before hanging up.
"I miss Quinn," Santana said sadly about 30 seconds after she had hung up the phone.
"Me too," Rachel mused. "She was fun."
"I'm going to ring Brittany now," Santana replied excitedly.
"Ok," Rachel nodded eagerly, forgetting her earlier doubt of the soundness of that idea. Santana hit a couple of buttons, including the speaker button again, and soon the ringing tone filled the room, soon followed by the phone picking up and a voice that was definitely not Brittany's
"Santana so help me god if you are drunk dialling me while trying to call Brittany again I am going to come over there and strangle you!" Mercedes answered, extremely annoyed.
"How did that happen?" Santana asked out loud, staring drunkenly at the phone in her hand. "I don't even know how that happened.
"Oh my God!" Mercedes cried in frustration. "Girl, we have got to find your drunk ass a better system for when you want to drunk dial Britt," she stated.
"I don't even know how that happened," Santana repeated, looking absolutely perplexed.
"It happened cos you're wasted and can't work your phone," Kurt supplied dryly in the background.
"Lady Lips?" Santana queried, looking even more confused.
"That is NOT my name Santana," Kurt replied, sounding slightly offended.
"It's Kurt," Rachel supplied. "His name is Kurt."
"Well I know that," Santana told her, like it was the most obvious thing ever.
"I was just making sure," Rachel replied.
"Rachel?" Kurt called out; Mercedes had obviously put her phone on speaker now as Kurt sounded louder.
"Hey Kurt," Rachel slurred. "Whatcha doin'?"
"Oh my God, she corrupted you," Kurt commented dramatically.
"I'm not corr- corrupted-ed. 'M just drunk," Rachel replied.
"That much is fairly obvious," Kurt replied dryly.
"You two aren't Brittany," Santana sulked, obviously just realising that. "We're going now. Goodbye," Santana hung up before they had a chance to respond and dialled another number.
"Again Sandbags?!" came Sue Sylvester's irate voice. Santana hung up at a speed that would have been impressive had she been sober.
"Oh sshhit!" she shrieked as she did. "I am not good at this," she commented, trying again.
"Hello?" Brittany's voice finally answered, and Santana promptly burst into tears at the sound. "Santana? Honey?" Brittany said worriedly.
"I'm so glad it's yooou!" Santana wailed. "First it was Quinn and she was meeeeean! Then Mercedes yelled at me and her and Kurt were soooo confusing," she hiccupped then spluttered then sucked in a deep breath. "Then I accidently rang Coach Sylvester and she yelled at meeee and called me mean boob names again and she wasn't you either and I neeeed you!" Santana was blubbering like a baby by the time she finished her story.
"Awww honey," Brittany laughed lightly. "Well you found me now. You're ok," she soothed sweetly. Santana let out another sob and Brittany quickly hushed her. "You're ok, sweetheart, you need to drink some water," she told her. "Can you do that for me?"
"I'll get some," Rachel told Santana, attempting to stand up and only succeeding in falling on her ass. "Whoops. I think my balnance- balance is impaired," she squinted at Santana, confused.
"What does that even mean?" Santana mused, sounding worried.
"Rachel?" Brittany called out.
"Hi Brittany," Rachel called out.
"Rachel are you drunk too?" Brittany asked, her voice disapproving.
"Maybe juuuust a little," Rachel giggled, holding her hand up with her thumb and forefinger pinched about ½ an inch apart to demonstrate her drunkenness.
"You're supposed to be looking after her," Brittany scolded, which ended up setting Santana off again.
"Don't be meeeean to Rachel," she wailed. "It was my idea. It's all my fault!"
"Sssshhhhh," Rachel hushed. "It's ok," she cooed at Santana.
"Ok. I'm coming over," Brittany said decisively on the other end of the line. "I'll be there soon," she told them.
"You don' have to," Rachel slurred. "We're ok," she assured her.
"No, I'm coming over," Brittany replied as Santana started drunkenly wailing something about being all alone and single and how nobody was ever going to love her. "I'm on my way," Brittany's voice was a bit upset and it sobered Rachel a little.
"Ok," she agreed. She heard the jangle of car keys and a door open and close on Brittany's end of the line and then echoing footsteps.
"I have to go while I drive over ok?" she said gently.
"No! Britt Britt don' go. Don' go!" Santana sobbed, clutching the phone tighter to her as if that would stop Brittany from hanging up.
"Honey it's ok. I'm coming to Rachel's house ok? I'll be there in five minutes," Brittany reassured her.
"Ok," Santana said bravely, running the back of her hand over her eyes.
"Ok," Brittany repeated in her most soothing voice. "I'll see you very soon," she hung up the phone and Santana started crying yet again.
"This is getting kind of ridiculous," Rachel stated, suddenly finding Santana's wailing annoying. She hauled herself to her feet, wobbling precariously for a moment before managing to stagger out to the kitchen. She pulled two water bottles out of the fridge and went back into the living room where she found Santana snuffling pathetically as she out another movie on.
"We're watching Mean Girls," Santana informed her.
"Ok," Rachel replied. The alcohol was catching up to her now and after her wobbling, stumbling trip to the kitchen she was beginning to feel a little bit sick. Santana threw herself back onto the couch once she had painstakingly slowly put the disc into the DVD player.
"Are you ok?" Santana asked, reaching up to touch Rachel's face.
"I…I don't feel so good," Rachel admitted.
"Uh oh," Santana looked around the room helplessly. "Do you need a bucket in case you need to throw up?" she asked.
"Don't say throw up," Rachel replied, paling even more. "But yes."
"I don't know where you keep them!" Santana wrung her hands nervously. "This is my fault!" she said sadly.
"They're in the cleaning cupboard in the kitchen," Rachel told her before she could start crying again. "It's the one under the sink."
"Ok, ok. It's ok," Santana told herself as she got up and made her way unsteadily into the kitchen. She came back a few minutes later with a bucket in hand and an extremely proud look on her face. She put the bucket down next to Rachel and Rachel noticed that she had brought a roll of paper towels with her too, which she placed on the table in front of Rachel. "Ok, it's ok," Santana nodded. "You should drink some water, but SLOWLY," she emphasised. "Just sips. And watch the movie and try not to think about it," she instructed.
"Ok," Rachel mumbled miserably. Santana lifted the remote to play the movie but before she could hit the button the doorbell rang.
"Who's that?" she asked, looking baffled.
"It's probably Brittany," Rachel told her. "I think she was going to come over."
"Oh!" Santana said happily. She got up and stumbled out to the front door. "Who's there?" she called out.
"It's me, it's Brittany. Honey, let me in," Brittany instructed. Santana did as she was told and her face lit up when she saw Brittany standing on the porch in her pajamas, slippers and coat.
"Hi Britt Britt!" Santana cooed as she threw herself rather forcefully into Brittany's arms.
"Ooof! Careful Santana," Brittany scolded gently, her quick reflexes only just quick enough to steady herself and catch Santana.
"I love you Britt Britt," Santana mumbled happily.
"I think it's bed time Santana," Brittany said gently, trying to contain her reaction to Santana's drunken proclamation.
"Oh. No. No it's not. We have to take care of Rachel and watch Mean Girls," Santana shook her head at the suggestion.
"What's wrong with Rachel?" Brittany asked, prising Santana off of her to try to get a look at her face. She cringed at her swollen, red rimmed eyes and the glassy unfocussed look in them.
"She's feeling a little sick," Santana whispered.
"Oh Santana," Brittany sighed. "It's bad enough that you're drinking yourself stupid all the time, you don't need to take everyone around you down too." Brittany regretted her words as soon as they were out. Santana's face crumpled even as her eyes went wide and sad.
"I know," she whimpered as the tears began to fall. "I'm sorry."
"It's ok," Brittany sighed. "We'll talk about it in the morning, yeah?"
"Ok," Santana was trying her best to be brave. Brittany detached Santana from her completely and turned to close and lock the door behind her.
"Come on," Brittany took Santana's hand. "Let's go look after Rachel."
An hour or so later, Rachel and Santana had both fallen asleep on the couch, leaving Brittany to try and figure out what to do with them. She sighed deeply as she stroked Santana's head where it rested on her thigh. She really needed to get both girls to bed. She carefully lifted Santana's head, sliding out from underneath it and gently tucking a pillow underneath it before carefully setting it down again. She watched the two of them for a moment, checking that they were ok before she headed off to try and locate Rachel's room and the Berry's guest room where she assumed Santana would be sleeping. That assumption was proven correct when she found the room and saw Santana's duffle sitting beside the bed. She headed back downstairs and contemplated a moment before gently scooping Rachel up into her arms, trying not to wake her. Rachel mumbled a little but didn't wake and Brittany carefully carried her upstairs and settled her in her bed. She went back downstairs and grabbed Rachel's water, the bucket and paper towels setting the bucket on the floor and the other things on her nightstand. She smoothed Rachel's hair out of her face and tucked her in a little tighter before heading downstairs to deal with Santana.
"Wha's goin' on?" Santana slurred, voice sleep and drunk as Brittany picked her up off of the couch.
"Bed time," Brittany told her, hiking her up a little to get a better grip on her.
"I ca' walk," Santana mumbled, tucking the water bottle she was clutching against her chest.
"And I can carry you," Brittany said firmly, making her way toward the staircase.
"Mm'kay," Santana let her head drop against Brittany's shoulder as she reached the top of the stairs, her breathing a little laboured. She carried Santana into the guest room and tucked her into bed.
"Do you need a bucket?" she asked gently.
"Nuh uh," Santana shook her head.
"I'll put your water beside the bed ok?" Brittany said softly, gently prising the bottle out of Santana's hands and setting it on the nightstand.
"Thank you," Santana was almost asleep again.
"I'm going to tidy up downstairs," Brittany told her and Santana managed a slight shake of her head.
"Stay," she whispered.
"Just until you fall asleep," Brittany told her. Santana managed a nod and Brittany sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching out to cup Santana's cheek, stroking her thumb lightly over her cheekbone until her eyes fluttered shut and she began snoring lightly. "You're trouble Santana," she told her softly. "This kind of stuff has to stop. You're worrying me," she stroked her forehead gently with a sigh. "Night sweetheart," Brittany murmured, tucking her in tighter and turning off the light as she left the room.
She headed back downstairs, stretching her slightly aching arms (neither Rachel nor Santana was all that heavy and Brittany was fit but it had still been an effort to carry both of them up a flight of stairs) as she went. She found a cloth in the kitchen and cleaned the spilled sambuca off of the coffee table and screwed the lid back on the bottle that still had some in it. She washed the empty bottle and the shot glasses out and set all of it on the bench, unsure of what else to do with it all. She cleared away some junk food wrappers and turned the TV and DVD player off. When she was done she sat down, wondering whether she should stay or go home. She was worried about Santana. She had always had a tendency to get plastered when she was having a rough time but this was something else entirely. She was getting drunk nearly every night and now she was bringing Rachel into it too. Brittany shook her head; she couldn't help but feel responsible for all of this. After a few more minutes of contemplating she opted to stay the night on the couch so that she could take care of Santana and Rachel in the morning, and kicked off her slippers before lying down and pulling the throw off the back of the couch to snuggle up under. Despite it still being relatively early she ended up falling asleep a little while later, still worrying about Santana.