Lopez's 8

Made in Heaven

Santana's not sure what the time is – whether it's the crack of dawn or well into the afternoon – when she wakes the next day. She and Brittany stayed up way too late after returning to the loft and between the champagne-induced giggles and sloppy kisses that tasted of cinnamon sugar that led to even more sex, neither can remember when they managed to fall asleep.

Santana hoped that when she finally cracked an eyelid it would be because Brittany was waking her with gentle kisses or maybe coaxing her awake with the proposition of coffee, but that's not the case. Her phone has been buzzing nonstop for only God knows how long and it's finally driven her to a breaking point.

Brittany begins to stir too, grumbling at the phone's disrespectful interruption.

"Off. Turn. It. Off," Brittany mumbles. Not only are they exhausted, they're a little hungover too and all that noise isn't helping with their developing headaches.

"I'm going," Santana whines as she uses every ounce of strength she can muster and throws herself across Brittany's body to reach the nightstand.

They're a mess of tangled sheets and bare limbs, but Santana manages to get her hand on the phone just as the call rings out. What's surprising though is the amount of missed calls from the same unknown number. There are at least ten there in the span of fifteen minutes and a funny feeling sinks to the pit of her stomach. Her interests are a piqued, but before she can take a further look another call comes through from the same number.

"You're popular today," Brittany grumbles before burying her head under the pillow.

It makes Santana smile – only Brittany can be adorable when she's annoyed – but it's that annoyance that has her answering this time. For both their sakes, she needs to shut this person down ASAP.

"Who the fuck is – "

"You are in so much trouble," The person – a woman – says before Santana can even finish her sentence.

Maybe it's the hangover settling in because Santana is slow to react. In fact, the words make her freeze. A million questions run through her mind: who is this? What do they know? How'd they get her number?

It's so jarring that Brittany senses something was wrong because she pulls her head out from under the pillow and looks to Santana worriedly.

"Who is it?" She mouths to Santana.

Santana just shakes her head and shrugs but the color in her face is quickly draining. Brittany notices that too and holds her hand out for the phone so she can take over.

"Who the hell is this?" Brittany snaps, "And why do you think it's okay to call so goddamn early in the morning? What's the matter with you? Don't you have any respect?"

The person clears her throat before replying, "I'd apologize, but it is half past noon. I thought that this would be an appropriate time to call."

Brittany frowns at their matter of fact tone, "Oh. Well, it wasn't. We're very hungover so the appropriate time to call is never. Who is this?"

"This is the victim of your latest crime."

Santana's jaw drops and Brittany's eyes go wide, "How did you get this number?"

"I have my ways."

Santana and Brittany exchange a look of concern, but before Brittany can follow up the woman on the phone adds.

"We should talk. In person. I don't trust someone I can't look in the eye and you're going to want to hear what I have to say."