This is what I imagine takes place just before the scene in "Sexy" - Season 2, Ep. 15 - when Brittany confronts Santana about their not talking about their feelings especially since they've just been intimate and have been for quite some time.


Exhausted after a long day at school that was ripe with misunderstandings about baby-making, a racy lesson about sex, and unnecessary Faberry drama, they tiredly step into the front door of Santana's home laden with schoolwork.

"Do you want something to eat?" Santana asks Brittany.

"No," Brittany responds. "I ate yesterday."

"Then I'll bring up something to drink."

As Brittany makes her way up the steps to Santana's bedroom, she hollers, "Make mine a Dr. Pepper."

"You know it," Santana yells back on her way to the kitchen.

In Santana's room, as Brittany puts her schoolbag down, something catches her eye. She walks over to Santana's dresser where she notices pictures of them. There's a standard school-issued group picture of them on the Cheerios; there's another with just the two of them in uniform, sitting side-by-side, cheezily smiling, and holding their pom-poms; then there's another, where Santana has her hand around Brittany's shoulder and Santana is planting a big kiss on her cheek.

That's what draws Brittany's attention. Being a Cheerio feels like another time in her life, even though it has only been a few weeks since she saved her life from an explosive ending and quit the team permanently for The New Directions. The thought of being a Cheerio now fits as poorly and as uncomfortably on Brittany as her uniform did. Yes, she misses the attention and the popularity but she also likes not being tortured by Coach Sylvester's acrid words and her grueling boot camp for pretty girls which Coach lovingly called "practice". Brittany also likes wearing whatever she wants because that uniform was starting to give her jock-itch. But of all that has changed since she left the Cheerios and of all that she has lost, Santana has always been there.

Brittany's heart skips a beat. I think I …

"Love leaving that place," Santana bursts through her bedroom door with two sodas in hand. "I can't wait to get the hell out of there some days. Today more than most. I wish Rachel's neck was fully rotatable because every time I see her I want to turn her face right around to the back of her head like a doll. She's like a nightmare I can't wake up from."

Santana places the glasses on a night stand.

"I was looking, uh, looking around for the 'Sweet Valley High' DVD and couldn't find it," Brittany lies.

"Uh Brittany? There's no video. I only say that to get you over here."

"Again?" Brittany exclaims in disbelief.

"It works every time," Santana says shrugging her shoulders.

"I see," Brittany says. "The old 'mate and switch' trick."

"Ya, something like that. 'Mate' being the key word," Santana says. "Come here."

Santana takes Brittany's hand and leads her to lie down on her bed beside her. They face each other, leaning on their fists to hold their heads up.

Santana says, "I'm glad we figured out that you weren't preggers after all." She gently runs her finger down the bridge of Brittany's nose and pokes it.

"I know," Brittany says, relieved. "I wouldn't know what to do with the stork afterwards."

"Well there's more to making babies than that."

"Like what?"

Santana leans over and whispers at length in Brittany' ear. Brittany's eyes open wider and wider, then a look of terror overcomes her, as she exclaims, "No way!"

"It's true. That's how it happens," Santana says with conviction. "What's wrong?"

"Impossible," Brittany says, worried. "I've been with a college Navy guy before and there is no way that a bunch of sea men could even fit in there. And he was big enough."

Santana stares curiously at Brittany.

"Santana?" Brittany asks, as she moves a random hair that has strayed across Santana's cheek. "Do you miss being a Cheerio?"

"Yes and…no," Santana answers. "No, I don't miss it because Coach Lady-Man totally tortured us in order to win every trophy she hoards in her house. Remember that three-hour practice when she was cracking her whip on us extra harder than usual?"

"I still have the welt marks," Brittany empathizes.

"It was for nothing! I swear that hermaphrodite was on the rag. We weren't even preparing for Regionals or Nationals or anything important like that. By the end of it, I was ready to take off my arms and legs and trade them in for a set of new ones."

"I did that to my Barbie© once," Brittany says. "Now she's a quadriplegic."

"And I remember another time when we were actually practicing for Nationals and she threatened to make us hand wash her underwear if we didn't keep smiling like we were insane. My mouth was so overstretched at the end of practice, I felt like I had just given the world's longest bj."

"Ya, I hate that feeling," Brittany says as she twirls a lock of Santana's hair that errantly hangs alongside Santana's face, out of place and unruly. "I thought joining the Cheerios just meant that we could wear those cute little uniforms. I didn't know we actually had to work to keep on wearing them. But I like red, that's why I stayed. It's one of my favorite colors. My other favorite is vanilla and…sometimes butterscotch."

"Brittany, those are flavors," Santana corrects.

"Not if you wear them they're not."

"What I miss about being a Cheerio," Santana starts, then pauses to sigh. "Is that it was the only thing at McKinley that made me feel important; like I mattered when I showed up at school."

Brittany strokes Santana's cheek.

"And what I miss most of all," Santana says, swallowing apprehensively and lowering her eyes. "Seeing you at practice always reminded me of how we met."

Brittany lifts Santana's chin and looks into the deep, richness of her dark brown eyes. Then there is no more looking and no more talking, only feeling. There are only droplets of sparkle raining on their eyelids, happy snowflakes dancing on their skin, and pop rocks bursting in their heads. Only quiet butterflies, and little birds that barely peep and, hearts that do back flips, and lips that kiss tenderness into rainbows.