Note: So for most of it, it's mainly from Santana's perspective, even though there are moments where Brittany's thoughts/feelings seep in. Then at the very end, it's mainly from Brittany's perspective. I didn't stick to one narrative mode very well...oops.

Let me know if you like it or not! I've written one fanfiction in the past, but it was a long time ago and a different ship. I mostly did this one-shot just because I thought there was so much possibility for the rest of the night of the BIOTA party and wanted to have fun with it. I finished it in September, but now I want to share in case anyone else would enjoy it. Thank you to anyone who reads it all the way through!

Blame it on the Alcohol: After the Party

Soft lips on hers wake her from her alcohol-induced slumber. Santana lifts her heavy eyelids into the tiniest of slits to reveal a glimpse of straight blonde hair and feminine facial features.

She kisses back automatically. Sitting up more and turning into the body underneath her, she brings a hand up to the face to deepen the kiss. Santana hesitates slightly as she registers the feel of the skin against her palm; it isn't as smooth as it should be. She begins to notice that the tongue working against hers isn't as graceful as usual either. The final clue that brings realization rushing in is when she feels the slight poke against the back of her leg that indicates her partner's growing excitement.

"Urrlllgh!" She springs to her feet before she's even aware of it and can't help the loud groan of disgust that escapes her at the realization that she's making out with her boyfriend.

Now fully awake, her current situation floods back to her. She's at a party at Berry's house with the Glee freaks. She'd been making out with Sam almost the entire night in order to keep her eyes and mind off of other…things, but she must have fallen asleep in the process. She laughs; he really is that dull. Feeling a little guilty for her thoughts and for her earlier outburst of disgust, she looks down at him and is glad that he seems to have dozed off, or at least is pretending to.

Sad. Their whole relationship is a crock of shit. At least she knows it and accepts it. But poor, sweet, innocent Sam. He cares too much. He wants a real relationship, with security, trust, honesty, and all that other bullshit; she wants to tell him to grow a pair.

Glancing down at him again, Santana decides she isn't entirely surprised that she mistook him for someone else a minute ago in her drunken haze. Her mistake can probably be explained by the same reasons that Sam is easier to be with than, say, Puck or Finn. She can usually tolerate him and sometimes even finds herself enjoying his company, especially during the moments when she's making fun of how huge a nerd he is. But right now, still buzzing from the numerous shots of tequila and beers she's downed, Santana feels agitated; she wants what she wants and can't even muster up the willpower to convince herself not to pursue it.

She scans the room for her query, finding her fellow Glee Club members scattered around in various activities. Quinn, Mercedes, and Lauren are sprawled out on the floor talking genially, with Puck's unconscious form beside them. His exposed skin displays the girls' earlier attempts at Sharpie tattoos. In a nearby cluster on the carpet, Rachel sings with her unrestrained fervor at Blaine, who is too drunk to pay any attention, his eyes glossy and unfocused; Rachel doesn't seem to notice. Blaine's head lies in Kurt's lap. Kurt is clearly using his friend's extreme inebriation as an opportunity to stare unabashedly. On the couch, Artie, Tina, and Mike are all fast asleep. From her spot in the middle, Tina rests a hand on each of the boys' knees. When Santana's eyes finally land on Brittany, she emits a noise that is a cross between a sigh of relief and a moan. Britt is across the room, dancing all by herself next to the giant speaker. Actually, Santana notices, Finn sits nearby on the edge of the stage, eyes closed as he drums in the air to the music, completely lost to the world. But what matters to Santana is that there is no wheelchair or glasses in sight.

Santana immediately makes her way over, gaze never shifting from Brittany's dancing form, which is still dressed only in her pink polka dot bra, black shorts, high socks, and heels. Just by watching her friend's body move so effortlessly, Santana feels turned on. How the hell does this girl have so much power over her? It's fucking annoying.

"Yay, San! You want to dance with me!" the blonde girl exclaims excitedly. When Santana reaches her, Brittany immediately pulls the smaller figure to her own and moves them together to the music.

Santana's body automatically fires up at the touch, making her already cloudy mind even less clear. "Actually, I…"

Brittany cuts her off. "Perfect timing, too!" She then begins to sing along with the music, "…with somebody who loves me…"

Santana cannot believe she's dancing to this cheesy ass song, especially not when instead of Whitney Houston singing, it is Berry's homemade recording of her own cover of the 80s tune. But this isn't the first time the best friends have ended up dancing drunkenly together at a party and Santana's body automatically melds with the other, straddling one of Britt's longer legs. Santana gives herself over fully to the control of her partner, letting her hips swing in imperfect circles, her spine curve forwards and back, and her knees bend up and down to the beat. Her hands travel eagerly over all the skin they can find, as Brittany keeps them pressed together with her hands on Santana's ass.

As the song ends and the stereo transitions into a very Berry version of Janet Jackson's "That's the Way Loves Goes," Brittany leans back slightly, separating their torsos while keeping their lower bodies entwined as they sway to the slower song. "You're not making out with Sam." Her face twinkles into a grin with the statement.

Santana glares and snaps, "And you're not making out with Artie, for once."

Brittany's joy remains unfazed by Santana's attitude as she responds, "which is a good thing because I don't expect you'd be up for a three-way with us and I really want to kiss you right now."

She lowers her head to Santana's, but the brunette turns abruptly to the side, dodging Brittany's lips. Undeterred, Britt instead attaches her lips to Santana's neck and begins to work at the skin there.

Santana's eyelids flutter shut and she growls, "Stop. Not here."

Brittany's mouth pauses only long enough to reply, "Why not? I want to."

"Because," Santana says, cradling Britt's head to her neck in one of her hands, "if we keep this up much longer, I will fucking rip your clothes off and have you right here. And I can't."

"Ok," is all Brittany says before she straightens up, unclasps her own bra, and flings it across the room, all in one fluid motion.

In her shock, Santana gasps as she looks down at the exposed chest in front of her, then presses their bodies tightly together before snarling, "What the fuck are you doing?"

Santana feels Brittany's shoulders shrug. "Well, you said you couldn't do it, so I was just helping you out."

Santana's sigh conveys her mix of amusement and exasperation. "No, this is not happening here. Let's go to my house; it's only a ten minute walk." She tries to shrug off her furry vest while still covering Brittany's boobs from view. "And here, wear this. No way in hell am I sharing, not even a peek." She gives Brittany a stern, possessive stare and glances down for a fraction of a second. "Mine."

Though Brittany obeys, helping Santana remove the article of clothing and pulling it around her own naked torso, she objects, "But I can't leave, San. I'm supposed to go with Artie in the morning. His dad's picking us up."

Santana is momentarily distracted by Britt's new outfit. While the blonde has somehow managed to hook the tiny metal clasp in front, the furry piece of fabric exposes most of her smooshed cleavage, leaving little to the imagination. It's absolutely not an option for Santana to leave the party without her. "I'll go tell Wheels the new plan."

She walks over to the counter and uses a Sharpie to write "Britt's w/ me. –Lopez" on a pad of Post-Its before removing the top note and sticking it to the middle of Artie's forehead. Quickly returning to Brittany, who has resumed dancing, she takes her hand and says, "Alright. Let's go."

Brittany hesitates slightly, wondering whether she should go or not, until Santa offers, "We can stop by the park near my house on the way if you want."

This is all that's needed to make up Brittany's mind. "Oooh, yes! You know how I've always wanted to make out with you on the swings." She pecks Santana's cheek in gratitude, making the shorter girl almost blush at the small display of affection.

Santana leads Brittany to the stairs and begins to climb up towards Rachel's main level until she stops on the spot when Britt suddenly exclaims, "Wait!"

Before she has time to ask why the hell Britt's further delaying the time until they get into bed, Santana is pushed roughly up against the wall. Brittany attacks her lips with a ferocity that indicates that her desire for her best friend is at least equal to the brunette's. Brittany pins Santana to the wall with her body, rocking their hips together, eliciting a moan from her companion.

"Fuck, B," Santana murmurs as Brittany slides her hand up the tight black and blue dress so that she can palm Santana's ass. "As funny as it'd be to fuck in Berry's bed, we can't risk getting caught."

After a few more moments, they break apart reluctantly and hurry together out of the house. It takes them four times as long as it should to get to the park, as they stop every few minutes to make out and hide from the few cars that pass by them in these earliest hours of the morning.

When they reach the abandoned playground, Brittany begins to lead Santana over to the swings, but keeps walking past them when her eyes spot something even more appealing in the distance.

Santana has slowed down, so that Brittany is now pulling on her outstretched arm toward the surface of the small lake glimmering with moonlight a hundred yards away. "Wait, I thought you wanted to make out on the swings."

"I did," Brittany responds before correcting herself. "I do. But I just remembered – my favorite swing of all." Her excitement bubbles up, quickening her pace as Santana drags reluctantly behind.

Santana's face contorts with confusion until she grasps what Brittany means. "Oh hell no! I am NOT getting wet. It's March – the water's fucking freezing!" She plants her feet firmly, refusing to move any closer to the lake, and drops her hand from Brittany's in order to cross her arms over her chest.

Brittany stops just ahead of her and turns around with a pout. "Pleeeeeaaaase?" she begs, reaching out to her companion in an attempt to retake her hand. "You don't have to get wet, I promise. I'll wade out and bring the swing over to the edge for you."

Unconvinced, Santana simply stares up at the blonde girl resolutely.

Brittany steps in closer, placing her hands on Santana's waist. After lightly kissing the brunette's pursed lips, she kisses a trail up to Santana's right ear. In a low voice, she says, "I'll make it worthwhile." She then proceeds to trace her tongue along the grooves of Santana's ear before bringing the lobe between her teeth and tugging playfully.

In reply, Sanatna rolls her eyes and emits an annoyed sigh; she grabs Brittany's hand and begins leading the way. When she'd offered the swing idea, she hadn't considered the rope swing as an option, but now realizes that of course Brittany would. Ever since Brittany had discovered its existence in fifth grade, she always had the same answer when Santana would ask what she wanted to do during summertime visits to the Lopez residence.

When they reach the old willow tree, Brittany begins taking off her boots. She proceeds to remove her socks, shorts, and the furry vest, leaving her clad only in her underwear.

"Why are you stripping?"

Brittany shrugs. "I feel like it," she responds, letting out an excited giggle as the water licks her feet. She walks slowly out to where the round wooden seat of the swing hangs a couple feet above the water, the calm black surface reaching up to the middle of her thighs. She grabs the knot that hangs below the center of the seat and runs back up to shore, splashing as she goes.

"How's the water?" Santana asks snarkily.

"Not that bad actually," Brittany says genially, her breathing slightly elevated.

Santana tuts in disbelief. "Tell that to the goosebumps on your legs."

Brittany holds out the swing for Santana to climb on. Santana mounts with one leg on either side of the rope she grips tightly.

"And where should I sit?" Brittany asks coyly, noting that Santana has taken up the entire seat.

"On me," Santana answers, a seductive smirk appearing on her face. She's beginning to warm up to this idea a little bit.

Brittany climbs up, straddling Santana's waist and hooking her legs behind Santana's back. As soon as her feet leave the ground, the girls swiftly swing out over the water, the overhanging branch to which their rope is attached creaking under their weight. With a tinge of panic, Santana inhales an audible breath through her nose as her eyes go wide. Before she can open her mouth to make any sort of exclamation, Brittany attacks her lips. Santana responds instinctively, kissing her back with fervor. Brittany isn't even hanging on anymore; instead, her hands tangle in silky brown hair, deepening the kiss as their tongues entwine. Forgetting all of her former fear of falling in the water, Santana's hands fly from the rope to Brittany's bare back. Needing as much contact as possible, Santana pulls the lithe body as close to her as is possible with the barrier between them. Her nails dig into pale skin. She detaches her mouth from Brittany's only to latch onto her neck, sucking and biting a trail from her jaw down to her shoulder. Her hands make their way around to the front of Britt's body to roughly massage her boobs. The blonde lets out a familiar throaty whimper that sets Santana's nerves on fire. Their perch has almost completely stopped swinging back and forth, but begins to move with the rhythm of their hips. Because of the rope, they can't connect the areas they really want, increasing Santana's frustration.

"I want you," she growls out against Brittany's skin, bringing a hand down and rubbing Brittany through the fabric of her underwear.

In response, Brittany lifts Santana's head up and crashes their lips together once more. Santana wastes no time in plunging her fingers under Brittany's underwear. At the abrupt contact, Brittany lets out a little gasp at the same time that Santana emits a low moan. She's finally getting what she wanted all night. The familiar sensation combined with the satisfaction of victory spur Santana on further; she pushes two fingers inside Brittany, who momentarily breaks their kiss, but soon hurriedly reconnects it.

Suddenly, a sharp bark rings out nearby, causing both girls to jump apart.

"What the hell was that?" Santana asks, terror lacing every word.

"A dog," Brittany answers with a slight giggle. She has already refocused her attention on Santana, placing wet kisses to her ear and cheek.

As a bark sounds again, louder this time, Santana ignores Brittany's ministrations and whips her head around to look for the source of the sound. She spots a small light, wobbling steadily closer to them along the shoreline.

"Fuck! Someone's coming!" Santana exclaims in a terrified whisper. "You have to hide!"

"Why?"

"Because you're basically fucking naked! I can't let anyone see me- us like this." Her eyes are wide and her heart racing; she's never felt more cornered.

Brittany looks at the water that surrounds them. "But where?" she whispers.

"I don't know, but he's going to find us any second. Just fucking do it!"

Santana is right. Mere moments after Brittany slips gracefully into the water, hardly even making a ripple in the glassy surface of the lake as she submerges herself completely, the beam of the flashlight lands on Santana's face.

"What do you think you're doing, miss?" comes a deep male voice with a slight rural twang. "You shouldn't be here. Park's open from 7 am to 10 pm."

"I'm…praying." Normally Santana would put this creep in his place for interrupting them and then blinding her with his flashlight, but all she needs to do right now is get him out of here as quickly as possible without getting discovered, or into trouble. Her response was simply the first thing that popped into her mind.

"Oh," he says thickly, dropping the accusatory tone. He lowers the flashlight so that the beam rests at the level of her chest. Once she can see again, she takes in the shadowed forms of a middle-aged man in a Park Patrol uniform and his large leashed dog. "Is there someone here with you? I heard voices."

"No," Santana lies, watching Brittany out of the corner of her eye. The blonde just emerged from the water and now crouches behind the trunk of the willow tree, out of sight from the shore. "That was just me….talking to Jesus. I'm sorry, I needed a peaceful place to pray," she explains with the most falsely girlish and innocent demeanor she can muster, sort of what she thinks of as a cross between Quinn and Berry.

"It's alright," the patrolman grants. "Just try to pray during park hours from now on."

"I will, sir. I'm so very sorry. It won't happen again."

The man is eating up every word. "You need a ride home, miss?"

"Oh, no, thank you, sir. I live two blocks up that way." Santana uses her finger to point in the direction of her house. This is the first truthful admission she's made in this entire conversation. "I'll go home straight away."

"Good, good." He vacillates for a few seconds. Santana knows he's wondering whether he should make sure she follows through on her word. Ultimately, he decides it's not necessary, trusting her. "Well, take care."

Santana watches as the man and his dog continue their path along the shoreline, waiting until she can no longer hear their footsteps to dare to speak.

"He's gone," she whispers towards Brittany's hunched figure by the large tree.

Brittany stands up and, without saying a word, walks to the rope and pulls it back to land so that Santana can get off without getting in the water. After dismounting, Santana notices Brittany hugging herself and shaking uncontrollably, her teeth chattering.

"Oh shit!" she exclaims, realizing how freezing cold Britt must be. "I'm so sorry, B," she says, wrapping her arms around the taller girl and rubbing her skin. Sensing this isn't a good enough solution, she backs up and begins taking her dress off. "Here, you can wear this on the way home."

Shaking even harder as a breeze passes over the pair, Brittany grasps Santana's hands to prevent her from removing the garment. "N-n-no, d-d-don't. It w-w-on't even f-f-fit."

"Ok," Santana agrees, only because she knows Britt's right; this dress is tight as hell. It might take a couple minutes for her to get out of it anyway. "Well, let's get your clothes on and get you home as fast as possible then."

She dresses a shivering Brittany in the little clothing she had discarded earlier and nearly drags her at a run-walk pace the few blocks back to her house. They walk around to the back of the house, where Santana unlocks the door to the basement with a hidden key she picks up from under one of the landscape rocks alongside the house. Once inside, they go directly to Santana's room. She locks the door quickly behind them before bringing Britt into her bathroom and starting the hot water in the shower.

Brittany smiles sweetly at her friend's frantic actions as she begins to undress. She's still trembling and somewhat numb from the cold water so she fumbles a little, pushing Santana past her patience and inciting her to undress Brittany herself.

"Come on, B! Get in!" she commands, testing the water temperature with an upward palm before guiding the blonde inside.

When Brittany enters, instead of crossing to the other side where the showerhead rains down, she stays near the door, looking out at Santana expectantly.

"What are you doing?" Santana questions in exasperation. "Get under the water!"

"Aren't you going to join me?" Brittany asks coyly.

Santana is momentarily surprised by the question, as she hadn't been thinking about anything other than trying to warm Brittany up, but can't help the pleased smile that overtakes her face at the request. Whether it's due to the alcohol or something else, she doesn't care that her deep-set inhibitions are absent for the moment.

"Of course I will."

She removes her own clothing before joining Brittany and closing the door, sealing them in the warmth of the small area that is quickly filling with steam. Brittany takes both of Santana's hands in her own and leans down to brush their lips together. Opening her eyes, she looks down at Santana, laughing fondly.

"What's funny?" Santana asks, glaring.

Brittany kisses her again before answering. "You taking care of me."

Santana sputters, wanting to defend herself, but Brittany continues first, "It's cute…and kinda sexy." She leans down and begins kissing Santana's neck in her favorite spot. "But I want to take care of you, too." She pushes their bodies together against the wall of the shower as her hands begin to travel down Santana's skin, exploring as they go. Normally Santana would protest that she doesn't need to be taken care of, but right now, she doesn't object.

Santana has no idea how long she's been lying awake, but knows it's long enough to have watched the sun creep up onto the bed and illuminate the sleeping form of her companion. She's been content to simply lie there thinking while she holds Brittany in her arms; but now that the sun's rays dance across the soft, pale face, Santana gives in to her overwhelming urge to trace the patterns she finds there.

After only a few moments, Brittany's eyes begin to flutter open. She takes a while to adjust to wakefulness and the bright light of the sunny Sunday afternoon before she focuses on the face in front of her. "Hi," she speaks in a groggy whisper, smiling shyly.

A matching grin overtakes Santana's face. "Hey. I- sorry…" she bumbles. She no longer has the confidence and clarity of drunkenness to guide her, but instead must rely on her bare self.

Brittany's eyebrows furrow in concern and she speaks with more urgency. "Why? What's going on?"

"Nothing," Santana shakes her head and brushes Brittany's cheek to alleviate her worry. "I just mean, for waking you up. I couldn't help my- it…touching you." She blushes deeply at the admission.

At these words, Brittany positively glows. "I like it." She places a light kiss to Santana's nose. A moment later, her brow wrinkles again. "But I'm confused…it's light out."

Santana's smile grows at Britt's apparent disorientation. "That's because it's daytime, B. Almost one in the afternoon."

"No," Brittany persists, "I mean it's light out, but I'm still here. And you're …snuggling with me…?" She says the last part as though she can't quite believe it.

"Is that a problem?" Santana's defenses perk up. "Is there somewhere else you should be?"

As usual, Brittany ignores the sass and continues. "What happened to your 'sun's risin', your ass best be gettin' out of my bed or it gon' be kicked' rule?"

Santana grimaces upon hearing the harshness of her own words repeated back to her on Brittany's tongue. She reaches around the other girl and grabs her ass, bringing her in closer. "Well, I've decided that I want your ass to stay right here."

Immediately a grin washes over Brittany's features. "Really?"

Santana nods as her hands roam over other body parts – Brittany's back, shoulders, arms, ribs, stomach. "And I want the rest of you to stay here with me, too."

Brittany's smile is, if possible, even broader. "Really? Forever?"

"Do you want to stay here forever?"

For the first time, Brittany looks away from Santana, seeming to seriously contemplate the issue. "Well, we'll have to leave by July 15th because that's when the last Harry Potter movie comes out." Not noticing Santana's giggle and instead thinking further, she reasons, "And actually, if we're staying here until then, Lord Tubbington will have to come over. I'll call him quick." She rolls her body so she's facing her edge of the bed and looks around. "Do you know where my phone is?"

"No, B," Santana says, pulling Brittany back into her embrace, "I don't. But you don't need to call him because, unfortunately, we can't stay; we have school tomorrow, remember?"

Brittany's massive groan suggests that this is the worst news she's heard in a long time. "Fuuuuuuuuuck. I was excited," she whines, her eyes pouting.

Santana feels her heart begin to race, drumming forcefully against her chest, as she revisits the thoughts she had earlier this morning while she watched Britt sleep. She plunges forward before her mind can stop her heart. "Well…what if we…stay, like…this…at, at school?"

Looking at her with an expression of sincere pity, Brittany sighs deeply, regretting having to let her friend down. "I'm sorry, San, but that's just not possible."

Santana's heart, which beat so strongly with hope mere seconds ago, seems to be falling quickly through her body. The oxygen seems to have disappeared instantaneously from the room. Whenever she'd anticipated this scenario, it was always everyone else's reactions she'd feared, never Brittany's.

Not having noticed Santana's response, Brittany continues, "I mean, first of all, there are no beds. Except the one in the nurse's office, which is never washed even though it has Henry Tilladoe's blood from when he cut off the tip of his finger in Home Ec and Lauren Zizes' puke from when she chugged a gallon of milk in the cafeteria. So I don't want to be naked in that bed, even if it's with you."

By this point, Santana's terror has ceased, amusement taking its place, so she allows Brittany to carry on without interruption.

"And anyway, remember the time I wore my bikini to school because it was Spirit Week and freshmen were supposed to wear purple, but it was the only clean thing I could find? That time I at least had certain…parts covered, but Figgins still made me wear that scratchy school sweat suit from the 1900s." Santana takes in a breath to correct Britt's misguided historical estimate, but doesn't even manage to begin before Brittany concludes, "So I'm thinking they won't let either of us in naked."

Santana can't help the appreciative grin that overtakes her features. Brittany's rambling alleviated some of the anxiety Santana experiences while talking about this new, unexpressed territory of feeling. Now that she has to say something again, however, the unease begins to creep back up her throat.

"No, that's not what I meant. Well, sort of. I mean, like this, like…" she tries to find the right words, "like how we are now." She strokes Brittany's sleek hair off of her forehead and looks into her eyes, willing her to understand. "But…standing up and…and…wearing clothes," she closes lamely. Her eyes roll back and she grabs a fistful of the hair on top of her own head as a frustrated growl resonates from her throat. She's an idiot. A complete fucking idiot. She hates herself in this moment, failing to say something even remotely coherent when it really matters.

Brittany pauses for a second, her expression stuck, until suddenly everything seems to click into place. "Oh, like I can finally act how I really feel around you and not have to pretend?"

For a moment, Santana has the urge to sob with gratitude at how this girl can save her when she needs it most. However, the deeply ingrained reflex to mask her emotions kicks in before she breaks down. She nods slowly, while inwardly marveling at the simplicity of the situation for Brittany. How can she so easily understand not only how she feels, but also how Santana feels, even without Santana ever expressing it?

A high-pitched squeal suddenly interrupts her thoughts, causing Santana to jump and clutch at her heart.

"YES!" Brittany closes her eyes and emits a guttural "ugh," as though her reaction lies beyond words. When she opens her eyes again, they stare inquisitively at Santana. She knows her best friend and, through the history of their relationship, has learned to clarify exactly what the agreement implies. "You mean I can kiss you in front of everyone?"

There is a brief pause. "Yeah."

"And call you MaSugaLips?" Brittany uses the strange mix of southern and ghetto accents she always employs when saying the nickname.

Santana's certainty about making this leap solidifies as she sees how happy it makes her best friend. "If you really want to, B," she says, giggling.

Brittany's excitement grows. "And tell you how you look so hot that I want to tear your overalls off and fuck you right that moment on the piano in the choir room?"

This scenario elicits a loud laugh from Santana; Brittany's mounting glee is infectious. "Sure. As long as no teachers are around." After a second, she adds, "And you don't actually do it…"

Santana can tell Brittany's getting carried away, losing herself in the wondrous possibilities that just arose inside her mind. "And talk out loud to Fred and George?" She touches each one of Santana's boobs in turn as she speaks the names she gave them long ago.

"Uhhh, I don't know if I'm quite ready for…"

Brittany's not even waiting for a response anymore and goes on, "And ask the science teachers to start doing experiments to figure out a way for me to someday get you pregnant?"

"B, SLOW DOWN!" Santana demands. Then, in a softer tone, she asks, "Can we take things one step at a time please?"

Brittany takes a deep breath and focuses in, settling her body back into Santana's. "Of course. I'm sorry."

The sweet kiss she places on Santana's lips lights up the brunette's face. "Plus, you've got it wrong…I am going to be the one to get you pregnant," Santana teases.

Brittany laughs, but soon works her expression into a competitive smirk. "We'll see." She kisses Santana's nose before nuzzling it with her own. A contented sigh precedes her admission. "This makes me so happy, San."

Santana feels her fear become buried even deeper beneath the surface as pride swells in her chest for her ability to make Brittany feel this way.

"Remember a few months ago when I said that thing that made you swear at me in Spanish, kick me out of your house, and not talk to me for a week? Well, I won't say it again, but just know that I do, ok?"

Santana can only stare, lost for words.

"Ok, San?"

After several seconds, Santana manages to give a small nod. They are simply feelings, buzzing around in her head and reverberating throughout her body. She can hear the words clearly in her own voice, yet she is unable to even utter the four syllables it would take to say, "I love you, too." Instead, she decides to remain in the realm she knows and showBrittany how she feels. Cupping Brittany's warm cheek, Santana closes the gap between their bodies and brings their lips together.

The next day, as Brittany walks up the stairs through the main entrance of McKinley High School, she can tell that her armpits are already sweaty. She feels excitement, sadness, and nervousness all at the same time. But mostly she's happy, happy that it's finally real.

Of course she's not looking forward to breaking up with Artie. She really, really likes him, has grown to love him even, but it's not the same. As much as she's dreading the break up, it's worth it. His sad looks, the mean names she's sure to be called, the disappointed faces of members of Glee Club – she can take it all if she has this.

As she turns down another hallway, her mind shuts off these thoughts and zeroes in on her current reality as she spots Santana. She's at her locker, collecting her books for first period. Wearing a form-fitting dress that perfectly hugs her rounded curves, Santana inspires an irresistible urge in Brittany to slide up beside her, glide her hand over her ass, and whisper in her ear, "Hey you."

Santana whips around, forcefully smacking Brittany's arm to the side, and demands harshly, "What the hell are you doing?"

"Whoa, it's ok. It's just me," Brittany reassures her, rubbing her hands up and down Santana's arms to calm her. When Santana's look of angry terror doesn't vanish from her face, Britt lets out a little laugh. "Ok, I'm sorry. I'm going too fast, aren't I?" She glows with a genuine smile. "I'm just so…happy, to see you."

At this, she leans down to give Santana a peck on the lips, but the shorter girl pulls away.

"What the fuck, B?" she spits out.

Brittany's reflex reaction is to cry at the combination of this unexpected rejection and her heightening confusion, but manages to hold herself together. In a quavery voice, she starts, "But yesterday, you said that we-"

Santana cuts her off. "Look, whatever I said, it doesn't mean anything; I was still drunk." Her tone is kinder than moments ago, almost apologetic. As she speaks, she fixes her gaze on Brittany's knees, her hands clasped so tightly together it looks as though she's cutting off her own circulation. "So just forget about it, alright?"

Brittany simply stares at Santana, who still refuses to look up at her as 10 seconds, 20 seconds, 30 seconds pass. Brittany doesn't know what to do. She looks around, but obviously there's nothing to back her up. And she can't force Santana to follow through on a promise of something she clearly doesn't want anymore. Santana lied. It isn't the first time. If Brittany presses the issue, she knows she'll force Santana to lie to her further, pushing more distance between them.

So she does the only thing she can think of and murmurs "Ok," and walks away.