AN: Why hasn't this been done yet? This plot bunny has been eating me alive. Also, I don't watch a lot of Glee, so there is going to be discrepancies in setting and in characterization. Forgive me?

"You're pregnant?!" Kurt screeched, his eyes wide.

The glass he was holding dropped and shattered, pieces falling at Rachel's feet. She regarded him with watery eyes, her hand mid-air in a failed attempt to quiet him. There was no need to worry about Brody overhearing; he wouldn't get back until later this evening. But, there was a certain Latina that she was terrified would find out.

She and Santana had become close since high school. In fact, her former nemesis had travelled to New York weeks earlier in order to stop her from pulling a topless stunt; a much needed intervention and an act she would have regretted years later. After the bonding-experience, she would normally have had no qualms talking to her friend about this or anything else for that matter. She trusted the ex-cheerleader more than she probably should, given their history. But, it wasn't this friend that she didn't want to tell.

Holy crap, are you pregnant?!

Rachel's head twitched in a subconscious effort to redirect her thoughts. Of course, the fact that Santana was sleeping mere feet away meant that any hope that she didn't hear what had just transpired was incredibly naïve; Kurt had practically screamed the news to all of New York. Kurt's eyes looked apologetic as she slowly turned around to face her friend lazily appraising her from the couch.

"Holy hell, Berry," Santana commented dryly. "I knew you wanted to be like Quinn, but I never thought you'd take it to this extent."

Rachel let out a small sob before running into her room and slamming the door behind her.

"Santana!" Kurt exclaimed, angrily. Said person cut him off before he could continue with berating her.

"I know, shut it Lady Hummel." Santana ran a hand through her bed-swept hair. "Shit, old habits die hard and all that jazz."

"I thought we had moved past the asinine nick-names."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Did you not hear anything I said after that? Or were you too wrapped up in your wounded ego?"

Kurt clenched his jaw and glared at the fiery Latina who had finally managed to pull herself up from the couch.

"What time is it?" she mumbled, rubbing her bleary eyes as she made her way to her bag sitting on the counter. When she didn't get a reply, she turned to look pointedly at Kurt.

"Three thirty," he muttered before turning to look for a broom to clean up the broken shards.

Four hours, Santana mused. This was way too much drama to be dealing with on her first day rooming with the twins. "Finally found it!" Santana smirked, pulling out her phone.

"Found wha…what are you doing!?" Kurt yelped, dropping the broom and diving towards his new roommate. Santana regarded him with mild amusement.

"Calling someone. Obviously." She started scrolling through her contact list.

"I know that," Kurt hissed. "Calling who?"

Before she could reply, the two's heads snapped toward the sound of a door slamming open.

"Don't."

Rachel was still in jeans and a baggy shirt (probably Brody's), which she had uncharacteristically dawned in an attempt to help Santana move in earlier this morning. Her hair was now pulled back in a ponytail, however, and her eyes were red-rimmed with any trace of makeup gone.

"Please, just don't call." Her, she mentally added.

Santana's eyes narrowed, gears in her head clicking.

"Is there something I'm missing?" She looked from Kurt to Rachel, trying to derive as much information from their body language as possible. "Is there some reason you don't want me calling Quinn?"

Kurt visibly relaxed. "I thought you were calling Finn."

The Latina's head snapped in his direction. "Are you off your rocker? Why the hell would I call Finnocence?" Realization dawned on her face and she rounded to Rachel. "Please tell me the kid's not his."

Rachel shook her head mutely, and Santana looked visibly relieved before turning back to her phone.

"Quinn should be done with her classes by now, so she could probably make an emergency appearance," Santana remarked. "And believe me, this is an emergenc…" She trailed off as a small hand blocked the screen of her phone.

"Okay, what the hell Berry. Explain," Santana demanded; eyes boring into Rachel's.

Rachel bit her lip. "Don't call Quinn."

"No shit," her roommate commented, rolling her eyes. "I'm asking why. If anything, I'm the one who should have a problem calling Emily Stark after V-day." Rachel's brow furrowed in confusion.

"What?"

"Quinn." Santana deadpanned. "It's a long stor-."

"No, I got that." Rachel abruptly cut her off. Santana could merely raise an incredulous eyebrow before the now mildly-hyperventilating diva barreled on. "I'm asking why you would have a problem calling her."

The tables had turned, and this time Santana was the one stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place. "We just haven't talked much since then." Or at all. She had said it offhandedly, hoping to play it off. Unfortunately, Rachel wasn't biting.

She grabbed her arm, and looked up at the taller girl with an unreadable expression. "Beating around the bush isn't like you Santana."

Kurt, throughout all of this, was trying to decipher what was actually going on: what Santana was not saying and why Rachel was so desperate to not inform Quinn of her pregnancy when she was, quite literally, the best person to go to for advice. Technically, Rachel was still a teenager…and he was getting sidetracked.

He decided to focus on Santana at first. She was blatant, blunt and downright rude ninety percent of the time. So what could have happened on the fourteenth that led Santana acting this out of character? Santana had a soft spot for her friends and, despite what she said, would do anything for them. Although Quinn and Santana were usually at each other's throats, they seemed downright friendly at the party. Why wasn't she talking? Maybe the reason the Latina wasn't talking was because it wasn't her secret she didn't want to tell. But then why would she suddenly have a problem calling Quinn if she was protecting her?

Secret…Quinn…Valentine's Day…Falling out…Santana…

The more he mused over the evidence, the quicker pieces started falling into place, and Kurt's jaw practically disjointed as comprehension hit him.

Santana's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I asked you a question first, Berry," she snapped, pulling away from Rachel's grip.

"Oh my god, did you sleep with Quinn?!" Kurt shrieked.

"WHAT?!"

Both brunettes rounded on him with such vehemence that he unconsciously took multiple steps back.

"What the fuck are you talking about, Lady Lips," Santana all but snarled. "Pray tell, how the fuck did you get to that conclusion."

Kurt's eyes were round and unbelieving. "You did, you did, didn't you?" The words fell from his mouth quietly, but with such weight that it left them all momentarily staggered.

"Don't be ridiculous Kurt." Rachel finally recovered, straightening up. "Quinn Fabray is straight. Might I remind you, she did have a child. And even if Quinn did want to experiment," Rachel cast a hapless glance towards the other girl. "There is no way Quinn would have slept with Santana of all girls let alone people."

Santana narrowed her eyes dangerously and looked uncharacteristically affronted.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Rachel shook her head. "Nothing, I just meant…nothing."

"Well, news flash Berry, she would sleep with me if she wanted to experiment; because she did," Santana ground out, pissed. "Now, if you'll excuse me, there's a certain blonde I need to call." And before the shell-shocked Rachel could stop her, Santana had already pressed the call button.

Kurt watched on, silently, in mild horror.

Ring.

"Santana!" Rachel yelped, diving for the phone. Santana managed to hold it above the diva's head.

Ring.

"Damn it, please Santana!" This caused the Latina pause. Rachel never swore.

Rin-.

"Hello?"

Rachel's eyes were pleading with her, and Santana was starting to actually feel bad. Here she was, supposed to be unfeeling.

Please, Santana, Rachel mouthed.

Shit. The watery eyes did it.

"San?"

Santana slammed the end call button, hanging up on Quinn. The first time she called her since Valentines merely to hang up on her. The ex-HBIC was going to be pissed.