Chapter 7: The Four AM

Becca had left town and they decided to try out the infamous long-distance relationship. Of course, Dani was all gung-ho for it, and she never had the intention to lose interest – but slowly, she did. Well, they both did. It would have been a lie to say that neither wanted to maintain their relationship, because in all honesty it was just a silly little fling.

Nothing more, nothing less. Just a fling.

Or was it?

Having dated Santana had certainly messed up Dani's dating game. For one thing, she had known that she loved that beautiful Latina within less than a month; she knew she had feelings for Becca, and yet she didn't dare act on them. Her heart had always chastised her not to do anything on impulse with 'Owl Eyes', because (a) Dani wanted to be sure, (b) Dani was sure.

Oh, and let's not forget (c): She wasn't over Santana.

Not completely, anyway. Lesbi-honestly, ever since getting with Becca, all Dani had been thinking about was (ironically) Santana. After a little warming-up at The Big Red Door the other night, they had started texting again – but only after the Latina had awkwardly asked Dani for her phone number.

"Hey, Dani?"

"What's up?"

"Can I, um, get your number? I've sort of, um, y'know, lost it."

"You left the napkin in the back pocket of your jeans again, didn't ya?"

"Uh-"

"I keep telling you to check your pockets before putting them in the washer. That one time – and thank God you had me – I found a twenty in those butt-pockets."

Santana blushed, "Have, not had."

It was just a little poke-fun at Santana, because she was sometimes as absent-minded as any other dear old man rocking his chair in the living room. The very first time Dani had given her her number was when they had first met, and being the silly goose she was, Santana had thrown her jeans in the washer without checking for the napkin that Dani had penned her number on for the Latina.

Four days. It took Santana four days to approach Dani again for her number, and the girl simply (and laughingly) wrote on the former's arm in big fat cursive writing, in case she "throws herself into the washer this time".

And that comment at the end – so subtle, so reassuring, yet simultaneously so confusing. It was comforting to know that Santana still cared about Dani and their relationship, really. Even now, waking up in her bed, Dani found herself smiling slightly at the thought of that. But she knew Santana can't really really have her, because she had Brittany.

"Dani, Dani, you're so irresistible / Dani, Dani, you're oh so very fine."

The sound of Santana's mellifluous voice sang through her mind and into her heart; her feet grew cold and Dani hid herself back under the covers.

Another day ahead without Santana. She coaxed herself out of bed.

"I got this," Grabbing the plates at the window, Rachel softened her gaze at Dani and sashayed away with the Oreo milkshake and plate of Breakfast Set C: blueberry pancakes drowned in Hershey's chocolate syrup.

Dani didn't have enough time to respond, and so she let the diva do whatever she wanted. It was painfully obvious that Rachel was handling her with child-gloves, after hearing about Becca returning back to Georgia and that the "promising" (her words, not Dani's) relationship had come to a dead-end. But Dani wasn't complaining – despite that little diva's overbearing attitude and need to baby her to death, she always offered her a plate of comfort-waffles (as Rachel liked to call them) every morning.

Free waffles, who could turn that down?

Flitting back, Rachel looked at Dani. "So, any plans tonight?"

"Oh, nothing. Just gonna be another night in."

"Again?" She furrowed her eyebrows, and Dani felt slightly irritated. She could stay in with ice-cream if she wanted to, so why was Rachel giving her the pointed disappointment her parents had used to shoot her down with?

"Berry, leave Cotton Candy alone. If she wants to stay at home and watch reruns of Germany's Next Top Model, then she will do just that. You're not her mother, so... scram."

Les-bionic to the rescue, and off Rachel went, but of course with an offended look.

Dani turned to Santana and cocked an eyebrow, "Germany? Why Germany?"

"Because German girls are hot," Rolling her eyes – as it it was the most obvious answer in the entirety of the world – the Latina began to sift through the sea of forks and knives on the counter. "Any girl that can speak foreign is hot."

"þú ert hálfviti."

"What?"

"I took a beginner's course in Icelandic when I was still in school," Fishing the forks out, Dani placed them on one side and knives on the other. "That's very foreign, right?'

"(Icelandic? Of all the languages that you took, you decided to take Icelandic?) Yeah, very foreign."

"Very hot."

"Mm, yeah, sure."

With the signature smirk on her face, Dani glanced at Santana.

"I just called you an idiot."

And with that, she walked away to tend to a venting customer, who was outraged over the amount of ice in his iced lemon tea.

It was another night at home; rising from the couch (after slumping onto it when she got home at 1 am, and it was 4 am now) groggily, Dani shuffled towards the kitchen to make a cup of green tea. That was what she needed now – a big mug of hot, fresh caffeine. Changing from the midnight shift to the morning shift and then the afternoon and finally, to an earlier night shift, had really messed up her sleeping schedule. She found herself falling asleep for less than four hours a day, sometimes.

Santana called it the 'Jet-lag of Jet-lags', and Dani just rolled her eyes. The term stuck, anyway.

Taking a sip from the mug and successfully burning her lips off, she left the tea to cool off lonesomely in the corner of the counter. She propped herself onto the opposite table, and leaned against the coldness of the marble; the only thing she hated about summer was the crazy heat. She never was a 'high temperature' kind of girl.

The doorbell rang and Dani cocked an eyebrow. A visitor at four-eleven in the morning? The last time someone came over this early was when she had the best dang cheesecake in the entirety of New York City, and something else about an incident and whore-kisses. The bell rang again, and she contemplated whether or not to open the door and unleash another god-awful argument.

Was she developing a phobia of doorbells? She couldn't tell.

Her hoarse voice croaked, "Who is it?"

"Dani, it's us, open up!"

Us, how very descriptive, Dani thought. Although she could tell in an instant that it had been Brittany's voice on the other side of the door, she still wasn't quite sure what 'us' entailed. Did she bring extra company? And why in God's name was she doing at Dani's threshold at four-thirteen in the morning?

A leap of faith – Dani opened the door.

"Hey Dani!" As if on cue, Rachel emerged from behind Brittany, gave the girl a quick hug, and promptly went on her way to make herself at home. "Well, since you keep insisting a night-in, we'll bring the party here then."

"What does that mean..."

Santana threw Dani a look, and she wasn't quite sure what it meant. An uneasy but surely devious smirk grew on her face.

"Welcome to your first ever Lima Heights sleepover, bitches. I bite."

Oh, how Dani knew.

Hey guys! Sorry that I haven't been updating, but I've been seriously buckled down in studying for finals and stuff. But guess what? Exams are OVER, thank God. This chapter is pretty short and fairly uneven, but think of it as the "disaster-setter". Do your really think nothing would happen when you put those four in a room together, at four in the morning?

Many thanks to the readers who stuck through this way-too-long hiatus, and for those that took the time to have a read. :) Hearts to all!