*!*!* PLEASE READ! *!*!* Okay, check it out. I watched Silly Love Songs, and immediately thought of a little interaction between the characters after they verbally attacked Santana. I had originally thought of the scene involving a different character, but I couldn't put that in this story. So I ended up using Brittany because obviously she is the perfect choice for what was said. Anyway, know that she is out of character. But then again, I do think people act differently when they're genuinely pissed off. So, maybe she's not too far out there. Also. This story does NOT follow Silly Love Songs, or anything else chronologically. It's pretty much floating in a relative time around season 2. So I beg you not to look too deep into the timeline. Just know that I might pull some scenes out of the show and throw them into my story simply because I liked them, and thought I could do more with it. I'm well aware that I may have events pop up throughout my writing that happen extremely out of order with one another. Hopefully it doesn't throw you guys off too much.

Another thing. I know in the show they're not cheerleaders. But I have kept them as that because it gives me an extra way to describe them. Haha.

I would also just like to thank all of you guys who reviewed. Especially DaynaKelly, killercereal, ysubasson, and Cognitivism. You guys always make my day with your kind words. Haha. But seriously, thanks to EVERYONE! 12 reviews within 36 hours? That's the most reviews I've ever gotten for one sitting of a story. I was so touched. Considering how poorly chapter one was written… man. You guys spoil me!

Alright, on with the show!


Mr. Schue was talking, but Santana wasn't listening. And frankly, she didn't really care what he had to say. For all she knew he could have been sharing his plans of world domination with the help of his hair products. But based on the way he seemed to be flailing his arms around, Santana had a pretty good idea he was either going on about the choreography, Journey, or Journey's choreography. The Latina had tuned out the director's persistent yammering a few minutes ago when the group was stopped mid routine. She was too busy concentrating on the fact that a certain blonde was currently hanging from her back.

When Mr. Schue had told everyone to hold up for a second so he could talk at them, Santana had ended up on the middle level of the room and Brittany was on the highest level directly behind her. Before their teacher could even finish his first sentence, the small girl felt her knees slightly buckle underneath her when extra weight was abruptly added to her shoulders. Pale arms circled her collar and Santana could only imagine what position the already tall girl – who was given an extra two inches thanks to the level difference – had put herself in just so she could rest her chin on the crook of Santana's neck. The brunette smiled peacefully when she felt the steady rise and fall of the Dutch girl's chest against her own back fall evenly into place so their breaths were perfectly in sync with one another. It happened every time.

Santana's brain immediately switched into auto pilot and she began rocking her hips back and forth bringing the dancer along. As the two girls gently swayed together, Brittany took the opportunity to lightly blow into the Latina's right ear; an act she knew would make Santana develop a major case of the creepy-crawlies. And, naturally, the moment she felt warm breath tickle her skin, Santana instantly closed the gap between her ear and shoulder, pushing the Dutch girl's head away in the process. Wanting to give the brunette more goose bumps, Brittany tightened her grip around Santana's chest so she was trapped and blew into the newly exposed left ear. This only caused the Latina to squirm violently in an attempt to keep the taller girl from winning this battle. The two girls couldn't contain themselves for another second and it wasn't long before the cheerleader's laughter cut through Mr. Schue's speech causing him to look at the two disapprovingly.

"Brittany. Santana. Is there anything you guys would like to share with the rest of the group?"

The blonde let an explosive laugh escape her nose and she buried her head inside the mess of Santana's hair out of embarrassment.

"No. Not particularly." The Latina tried to come across as her normal, bitchy self but failed miserably. She had started cracking up all over again due to the fact that she could hear Brittany whispering an attempted insult, targeted at the man before them, into the base of her neck.

"Well, I would appreciate it if you two separated for one second and pay attention to what's going on."

"Got it Mr. Schue," Brittany nodded in confirmation. At that point she unwound her arms from Santana's body and held them above her head. "One Mississippi!" The cheerleader then re-placed her arms into their original position around the smaller girl. She smiled innocently down at her teacher, proud of herself for following directions.

The choir director hung his head realizing he had once again forgotten the blonde had a tendency to take things a little too literally. Running his palm across his face, Mr. Schue sighed, "Okay everyone. Take five. When we come back we'll talk about this week's assignment." With those words he went to hide in his conjoining office as he let the teenagers cool off.

Before the has-been superstar could get his entire thought out, Santana whipped her body around in a tight circle careful not to break the hold the Dutch girl had on her. Brown eyes immediately got lost in blue as the Latina - completely forgetting they were still standing in the middle of the choir room - reached up to brush an uncooperative strand of hair off of the uncharacteristically flushed face in front of her.

"Brittany Susan Pierce? Are you blushing?" Santana questioned teasingly.

"Ha! You wish." Brittany scrunched her nose at the smaller cheerleader.

The two left their conversation hanging comfortably above their heads and just stared at one another. They held each other's gaze until they were once more interrupted by the wheelchair clad boy.

"BRITTANY!" Artie called out a little too sharply, causing the blonde to jump. When she looked down at her boyfriend he was sporting that strange, unfamiliar, evil doll look again. "Can I talk to you for a sec please?"

"Um…sure." The blonde bit her lower lip flashing Santana an apologetic look.

The brunette stood rooted in her spot, absolutely dumfounded, as she watched her other half skip over to Artie and plop down on his lap. That should be her. Why couldn't that be her? Why wasn't she the one Brittany cuddled with during school? Why did she have to be so concerned with her reputation that she was willing to push away the one person who was able to override her system? Why can't sex be dating? Why, why, WHY? !

After a few more seconds of wallowing in self pity, Santana was literally pulled from her thoughts; suddenly finding her body being dragged across the room.

"OW! Can I help you? !" the cheerleader snapped, yanking her forearm out of the obnoxiously tight grip it was in.

"Yes. You can tell me what the HELL was that? !" Mercedes yelled as quietly as she could.

"What are you talking about? I didn't do anything!"

"You're damn right you didn't do anything!" the diva scolded, getting louder with every second. "Why didn't you say anything when you had the chance? ! Brittany was practically begging you to confess your undying love for her!"

Santana clamped her hand over Mercedes mouth with extreme force and nervously looked around the room trying to spot any eaves droppers. To her relief the rest of the group was too preoccupied with Finn's attempts to do the limbo under the double bass Puck and Sam were holding up. No one seemed to be paying any attention to the bickering girls in the corner.

"How many times do I have to tell you? !" The Latina spat through her clenched teeth. "Keep. Your voice. Down!"

"Here's the deal," Mercedes continued obviously ignoring Santana's request. "You need to show Brittany how much you love her before she gets tired of waiting. Girl can't hang around forever."

"Okay first of all, I'm not in love with her! So can you stop saying that? And second of all, I don't do love. I do revenge. I enjoy destroying feelings, not expressing them."

Out of nowhere, and with absolutely no warning, Mercedes grabbed Santana firmly by the shoulders and gave her a good, hard shake. "Wake up and smell the roses you obtuse moron!"

Under normal circumstances, Mercedes would never have touched the Latina in any way, shape or form, or spoken to her in that manner. But given the situation, she was confident enough to do what she had to do. There was no question Mercedes was enjoying her position as an authoritative figure and she was taking full advantage of it. She liked being the person calling the shots for a change. It made her feel like the bitch in charge. Santana's completely bewildered expression was just an added bonus. "Let me tell you this nice and slow. You like Brittany. Brittany like you. You go tell Brittany how you feel. Or Artie win."

"Why are you so convinced that she likes me? I don't know if you've noticed this but she has a boyfriend!"

"Details," the diva shrugged.

"Plus! I don't want to be that pathetic idiot who makes everything up in their head only to get shot down."

Mercedes shook her head while rolling her eyes. "I can't believe – This is ridiculous... Brittany!" She called over the smaller girl's shoulder.

From her position on Artie's lap the blonde jumped for the second time that day. When she saw who was calling her name she smiled warmly, "What's up?"

"Santana wants to know if you like her."

The moment those words passed Mercedes' lips, Santana momentarily blacked out. Her brown eyes were practically bulging out of their sockets as she realized what was just said was said out loud – very loud. Her toned legs suddenly became too weak to hold her body up and she collapsed onto the nearest chair.

It also didn't help that Brittany's blue eyes sparkled as she smirked to herself. "Duh! She's my best friend!"

"Not what I'm talking about darling."

The dancer played with the break of Artie's wheelchair rather nonchalantly, her smirk getting bigger. She had known exactly what the other girl was talking about the moment she spoke. "Can you please tell Santana we're not in middle school anymore? And that if she wants to talk to me she can't play monkey in the middle with my friends."

"Will do!" Mercedes look down at the mortified girl, "Brittany says you're not in middle school anymore and to talk to her yourself."

"I… you… wha… how… BITCH!" Santana stammered. It was a good thing she didn't have rabies because she was fuming.

"You're welcome buddy!" the diva patted the brunette on the back. This gesture only caused the cheerleader to retaliate and smack Mercedes' thigh as hard as she could. Thankfully, before they could get any more violent, Mr. Schuester walked back into the room.

"Alright everybody, take your seats," he announced on his way to the whiteboard.

Santana rose to her feet and got as close to Mercedes' face as humanly possible. "I fucking hate you," she hissed, then turned around to walk back to her spot at the beginning of rehearsal in the front.

"Tell me something I don't know!"

"You're adopted!" the Latina shot over her shoulder.

"Okay guys settle down." Mr. Schue picked up a red marker and wrote the word LOVE on the board drawing a heart around it. "I have a word for you."

Brittany's hand immediately shot into the air, "Is it love?" She looked over to flash Artie a proud smile. "Totally going to graduate now!"

Much to Brittany's disappointment her boyfriend didn't join in on her celebration. He nodded without even looking at her and went on listening to what was happening in the front of the room. On the outside Artie's actions didn't appear to faze the blonde. On the inside, however, she was crushed. There was a reason why Brittany seldom spoke up: she hated that crappy feeling she got whenever people ignored what she had to say. She understood that she thought differently than most people; she was well aware of that fact. What she didn't understand was why everyone always felt the need to call her out on her differences or use them as a punch line for their jokes. They all thought differently from Brittany, but you didn't see her belittling their inadequacies.

Brittany thought by getting Mr. Schue's answer correct it would make her boyfriend proud of her. Instead he shot her down and basically said she wasn't worth his time. She looked straight ahead as the first signs of a faltered smile appeared on her face. But before the blonde could get any more down on herself, she felt delicate fingers crawl between her own. She allowed her blue eyes to wander down to her hip, onto her hand, up the tan arm she was attached to, and into her favorite brown eyes. Santana presented Brittany with a reassuring grin and shook the hand she was holding for emphasis.

"Good job!" the Latina mouthed.

A thankful smile spread evenly across the dancer's face. Santana was always able to understand what she said, and never made her regret speaking up. That was why she usually turned into a chatterbox when it was just the two of them. Talking to Santana made her feel important.

She was also glad Santana never failed to see through her happy façade. Even if Brittany was jumping up and down cheering, the brunette always recognized when she was actually broken inside. It was a comforting piece of information for Brittany to know that she could simply blink and her best friend would immediately know how she was feeling. It was especially comforting now because it proved to her they still had a part of that psychic bond. Lately it seemed as if Santana wasn't able to read Brittany's mind as easily, or at all, like usual. The blonde had been slowly breaking by herself for weeks now as the pressing matter of the unknown future loomed over her; something the Latina wasn't the slightest bit aware of. Or if she was, she certainly wasn't showing it. Not only that, but Brittany had practically screamed, "I WANT TO BE YOURS!" when she had kissed the smaller girl the previous day. And yet here Santana was, acting like it had never happened.

The Dutch girl was so lost in her debate about whether Santana was still psychic or not, that she hadn't been paying any attention to the discussion around her. However, her ears perked up right away when she heard the girl next to her speak.

"No, not really."

Oh dear. Brittany knew that voice. That was Santana's "continue to push me and I will end you" voice. The dancer knew that absolutely no good could come from this situation.

" 'Cause you always just seem to be meddling in everybody else's business."

I'd stop right there if I were you Finn, the Dutch girl silently warned. She also wondered how the boy even got to be standing with Mr. Schue in the first place.

"Oh please. You guys love me! I keep it real and I'm hilarious."

Oh no. She's about to snap.

"Actually you're just a bitch," Lauren piped up.

And she's gone. Brittany could visibly see the anger inside the tiny girl reach a boiling point as she whipped around in her seat to stare down the offender.

"Okay, I'm sorry. You've just got eyes for my man!"

"Okay, first of all I'm not your man," Puck defended.

"Yeah, and Finn's right. All you ever do is insult us…"

The fact that Quinn jumped right into the conversation did not go unnoticed by Brittany. The blonde could only sit in her seat with her jaw on the floor as everyone seemed to be hopping on the "Bash Santana" bandwagon. Her blue eyes remained glued onto the Latina as she watched her best friend's features contort from pure anger to genuine hurt. Brittany knew the words being spoken by the Glee club members were hitting Santana hard. Despite what anyone else thought, the brunette took what people said about her seriously. The dancer was confident Santana's self respect plummeted as she listened to the only people she thought would never insult her continue to beat her down. But any respect the Latina did have for herself completely disappeared when Rachel Berry decided to open her mouth.

"The truth is Santana, you can dish it out but you can't take it. Okay, maybe you're right. Maybe I am destined to play the lead role in the Broadway musical version of Willow. But the only job you're gonna have is working on a pole!"

As Rachel's words lingered in the air longer than anyone was comfortable with, Santana could feel the color quickly drain from her face. She swallowed with difficulty, trying to force the lump in her throat to go back down so she could say something, anything. Anything so she wasn't just sitting there like an idiot attempting not to cry. But as Santana's eyes began to prick around the edges she knew she needed to leave before she broke down in front of everyone. She had already let them insult her. There was no way she was going to let them see her turn into a blubbering mess. She certainly was not the most attractive crier in the world.

"Fine," she finally whispered. Grabbing her bag, Santana stood and left the room.

Brittany immediately moved to follow the fleeing girl, but was stopped by a firm hand gripping her elbow. She looked down at Artie shaking his head at her.

"Don't. She got what she deserved."

The blonde fell back on her seat not believing what she had just heard. It wasn't long before the rest of the room confirmed Artie's statement.

"He's right. Girl has done nothing but make our lives miserable ever since she showed up. She got what was coming to her." Tina agreed.

"Seriously, I don't know why you hang out with her Brittany. Santana has got to the biggest, most selfish bitch on the planet," Quinn inquired leaning over so she was looking at the blonde opposite her.

"Oh no. You're absolutely right," Brittany spoke up irritably, eliciting shocked expressions from the group. "I mean the other day she placed clues all around town so I could have a scavenger hunt because she assumed I have always wanted to be a detective. Can you believe it? !" The Dutch girl shot a look at Puck who slid down in his seat unable to meet her gaze. Disappointed in the boy, Brittany continued on, letting the sarcasm in her voice pierce through the stunned silence. "And another time when I had to get blood drawn she forced the nurse to draw her blood first. She thought she had the ability decide whether or not the nurse did it correctly, otherwise she wasn't going to let her do it to me. But that's not all she does! Get this! Every single night at three a.m. she has the audacity to walk to my house, sneak into my room and check on me to make sure I didn't have a nightmare. Oh but wait! It gets worse! If I do have a nightmare, not only does she refuse to leave until morning, but she'll actually hold me until I fall asleep. What a selfish bitch, right? !"

When she finished her angry outburst, Brittany stormed out of the room in pursuit of her best friend. The rest of the group, Mr. Schuester included, were left resembling eleven deer caught in the same headlights. Moments later Mike's voice was the first to break the awkwardness.

"So… Brittany knows what audacity means… Anyone else surprised?"

Ten hands instantly shot up.

Outside the doorway Brittany came to an abrupt halt. She furiously looked both ways trying to figure out where Santana ran off to. Thankfully she didn't have to look very far. About halfway down the hall Brittany spotted the brown hair she would know anywhere sitting on a randomly placed step. Sprinting the remaining distance to her friend, the dancer threw herself onto the small girl, enveloping her in a death grip.

Somehow Santana knew Brittany was coming before she even heard her stampeding down the hallway. It was that psychic connection kicking in. She already had her arms wide open, waiting to be smothered by the blonde. The Latina clung desperately to the only person that was ever there for her as she let her emotions take over. She felt the impossibly strong arms wrap tighter around her slender frame when she let out a particularly loud sob.

"Don't cry! You're too pretty! Now your nose is gonna be all red," Brittany pouted.

When it came to comforting styles, Brittany and Santana were completely different. While the Latina was quiet, sweet and always knew exactly what to say to make Brittany feel better about herself, the Dutch girl chose a more comedic route knowing a good laugh always cheered Santana up. They would be the first to admit that it was a strange approach, but it worked for them.

"Ewww. Don't tell me that!" the brunette whined. She pushed herself off her friend so she was sitting up.

Brittany watched Santana wipe her nose with the back of her hand as she continued to let the tears fall freely down her cheeks. The blonde reached up and began running her fingers through the other girl's hair.

"Maybe try rocking back and forth. People do that in movies," she tried again in an effort to at least make the crying girl smile. Unfortunately it didn't seem to be working.

"No. Because I try to be really, really honest with people when I think… that they suck! You know? No one gets it." She said through her tears.

"I get it!" the dancer declared as she squeezed the Latina's chin between her fingers to make her listen.

The brunette pulled away shooting Brittany an obvious look, "Well I know you do, ya crazy cat! You're the only one who does get me…" Santana trailed off, staring blankly into the space in front of her.

Brittany chewed on her bottom lip wishing she could help Santana more. So far she hadn't been able to make Santana smile, let alone laugh, and she was starting to doubt herself. This moment was definitely going down as her record for "Slowest Time It Took to Make Santana Happy". A record she was not happy to uphold.

After observing the Latina for a few more seconds, the blonde finally spoke up. "Yo!" she shoulder checked the girl to make brown eyes meet her own. "I used that new word you taught me."

"Ignoramus?" Santana was hoping Brittany would use that on Artie one day.

"No. Audacity."

"Yeah? When?"

"After you left the Glee room."

"Did you use it correctly?"

The dancer shrugged her shoulders matter-of-factly, "Pro'lly not."

"That's totally okay. Remember how I told you that using big words takes practice? You might not get it right the first time. I'm just proud that you used it!"

The cheerleaders smiled sincerely at each other for a little bit. Brittany was glad Santana appeared to be getting happier, but she was far from satisfied. She still had yet to make the small girl laugh. Guess it was time to pull out the big guns.

"Hey San? Did you ever blow bubbles as a kid?"

"Of course I did. Why?"

"Well, he's back in town and wants your new number."

The brunette gasped in horror pushing the other girl back. "You're such a poop face!"

"You're laughing," Brittany pointed out.

Low and behold, the brunette had erupted into a fit of giggles at the Dutch girl's little remark. Cutting of her laughter, but still keeping her smile, Santana stopped to admire the girl across from her.

"You're amazing, B. You always know how to make me feel a bajillion times better."

"Actually, I don't really know what I'm doing. I kinda just wing it."

" Then you 'wing it' splendidly…Hey, you wanna get out of here?"

"Definitely!" the blonde nodded enthusiastically.

The two friends linked pinkies and pushed themselves up off the ground. They walked quickly towards the nearest exit, careful to avoid any and all teachers, and took off running once they were outside. Neither one knew where they were headed, or what they were about to do. But what they did know was that some crazy shit was about to go down.


So I hoped you enjoyed this chapter.

Please let me know what you thought! I appreciate any and all reviews.

Also, I'm sort of just writing this as I'm going. Which is different than "S.S.S.S", when I was always one or two chapters ahead of what I posted. So chapter three has yet to be written. Do you guys have any suggestions as to what the girls might be up to?