Paperweight

Chapter 10

"How's your coffee?" Kurt asks, breaking the awkward silence that's been engulfing him and Santana for the past few minutes.

"Good." Santana replies, blowing gently on the piping hot liquid in her mug. "Or at least I think it will be when it eventually cools down enough for me to actually attempt to drink it." She gets coffee is supposed to be drank hot, but Christ, there's a difference between hot and melt your tongue into a hideous gooey bloody mess from violently high temperatures.

Kurt laughs, and takes a sip of his tea, before placing it down on the table in between them and fixing Santana with a look. Great. Santana knows the exact conversation she doesn't want to have, is about to happen.

"So," Kurt begins. "How's Brittany?"

Upon hearing her name, Santana's mind immediately shoots to the blond. For a change. It's only been a little over 24 hours since she last saw Brittany, and Santana misses her already. Jesus, she internally berates herself, you sound like a clingy girlfriend. Not that she can help it, Brittany is pretty amazing. She's cute, she's sweet, she's funny, she can make Santana smile even when she's desperately trying to keep her patented – no seriously, it's patented – bitch face on. She's Brittany.

"Santana?" Kurt's voice breaks through her thoughts, and she blinks, wondering how long she'd zoned out, daydreaming about Brittany.

"She's fine, as far as I'm aware." Santana eventually settles on replying with. She's certainly not going to start gushing to Kurt about how wonderful Brittany is, she doesn't even know how much Kurt suspects yet.

"Santana," Kurt sighs, in that slightly condescending, breathy tone of voice he has, and Santana knows she's probably not going to like what he's about to say. "Look, I know something's going on between you two." Ding ding ding.

Santana lowers her gaze, running her finger along the rim of her cup of coffee. She doesn't reply, instead choosing to fix her stare firmly into the black liquid. There's a strange churning starting in her stomach, that Santana eventually identifies as panic. She does not want to talk about this.

"San," Kurt says her name again, evidently not wanting to drop it. "She's your employee."

"You think I don't know that?" Santana bites back, snapping her head up to glare at Kurt. "You think I'm not reminded of that lovely little fact every fucking time I see her at my goddamn studio, Kurt?"

His eyes widen slightly at Santana's sudden outburst, and he picks up his cup, taking another gulp of his tea before speaking again. "So why are you…" He trails off, raising his eyebrows at Santana to continue, to fill him in on what exactly Santana and Brittany are doing.

She doesn't.

"Santana, I'm trying to be your friend here. But I can't help you if you don't tell me-"

"I don't recall ever asking for your help, Smurfette." Santana snaps at him, lowering her voice slightly when the old grandma a few seats away from them looks over in their direction disapprovingly.

Kurt rolls his eyes, huffing dramatically. "Of course you didn't ask Santana, but you need-"

"No, shut the hell up Kurt, you have no idea what I need. But let me make one thing clear, I do not need your help. I can handle things perfectly fine on my own." Santana settles back into her chair, taking a gulp of her finally cool enough to drink coffee.

Kurt squints annoyingly at her, like he's studying her, then sits back in his own seat and folds his arms, mirroring Santana's position. "So what exactly is going on with you and Brittany then?"

Santana freezes, mid-lift of her cup to her lips. What's going on with her and Brittany? Well she would answer that, if she had a fucking clue herself. She deflates, and sets her cup back down on the table, keeping her hands wrapped around it, and staring into the coffee.