Faberry (We Might Fall Hard, We Might Fall Fast)

10

Santana was jolted into consciousness Monday morning by the sound of her alarm clock going off. She fumbled around her nightstand, banging the general area of where the offending time piece was, and when she found it, she threw it across the room where it still continued to alert her that it was time to wake up. She groaned as she threw her blankets back and swung her legs from the bed, getting up to turn the damn thing off, and with eyes still mostly closed, moved to the other side of the room and picked up the clock, which her sister had to regularly cover in bubble wrap because the Latina has had a tendency to hurl her alarms since puberty hit. She was not the brightest of people when just waking up. In disposition and intelligence, especially, like today, when she hadn't had enough sleep. She growled at the clock and shook it, then eventually remembered that she had to press a button to make it be quiet. When the silence came she sighed and plodded to the bathroom to carry out her morning hygiene routine.

After having her shower she left the room and mumbled a "Morning" at her sister as they passed each other while she made her way back to her bedroom and once inside she collapsed on the bed for a few minutes until she felt she was awake enough to use her hairdryer. Otherwise, God knows what would happen. By the time she'd got downstairs and had poured herself some orange juice and a bowl of cereal she was mostly awake, but still pretty grumpy, then she went into the living room, turned the TV on, going straight to the News channel, opened up her laptop to check over her homework that she'd stayed up until one in the morning doing, and satisfied that it was at least adequate, she printed it off.

When she checked her emails her inbox was fuller than usual, and apart from the one she had most days about granny porn, they were all from her Glee-mates, well, seven of them. She'd manage to convince a large portion of them to not take this last Glee assignment seriously, all except Jesse and Finn agreed. Quinn and Rachel she didn't ask. When her pregnant friend had made her listen to the song she was going to perform today, she outwardly gagged, but inside she was all 'Awww.' it was obviously about Rachel, and very fitting. So Santana decided to convince the group to do idiotic songs, not that the Diva wouldn't get that Quinn's song was about her, but just to make sure, why not make the rest of the songs sound completely ridiculous. But if it could fit into a general thankful theme, then all the better. The emails she'd received were their song choices and they seemed to have entered into the spirit of it. Today was going to be fun.

From the kitchen she could hear Izzy having a very one sided conversation with their cat about how much food he eats, then a thud sound, followed by "You little bugger." Her sister was especially British first thing in the morning.

She gave a small snort and relaxed, turning her attention to the TV. Sometimes she would try and put something on that wasn't News, because it was always the same old story. Bad stuff, followed by more bad stuff, with the occasional lighthearted piece about a parrot rescuing its owner from a burglar or something, but that was rare, and the parrot usually died. The problem was, whenever she changed the channel to something more entertaining, Izzy would just change it back to News.

Adults. Why did they feel the need to keep themselves informed of world events?

"Morning Ana. I haven't seen you in days."

Santana looked over at her sister who had just sat down next to her, and was nursing a cup of coffee. "Been at Rachel's."

"Berry's?" Izzy asked, confused.

"Yeah. Quinn's living there now. Didn't I mention that I'd helped her move? Again."

"You didn't, no. Did the Puckerman's throw her out or something?"

"Nothing like that. Rachel wants to take care of her; Quinn wants to be taken care of by her. It's pretty symbiotic."

"Is something going on between them?"