Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nobody really owns anything, if you think about it.

A/N: Thanks for the reception, everyone. Some people seem to be concerned that you need to watch HoC to understand this 'verse. You don't. This is a Brittana story before it is anything else. I'm not going to deny that I'm copying the basic plot of HoC, but I am trying to add stuff to make it a bit different. I will do my best to clarify anything I borrow. If there are vague references anyway, tell me, and I will try to explain it.

And as for the question of how similar Brittana will be to the Underwoods, I have no idea yet. (Can you imagine Santana killing for power? I can't.)

Also, thanks to HeyaBrittana for pointing out I misspelled Schuster. I laughed so hard when I realized why it looked wrong.

you may be good-looking (but you're not a piece of art)

The headquarters of the Women for Equality is a terribly cramped place. When Brittany first bought the property that holds it, there was only an empty, narrow hall that never got rented. "It's a temporary investment," she had told Santana, when she had raised her eyebrows at the choice. "With the hope of expansion in the near future."

Three years later, no such expansion has materialized. The charity seems to become smaller and smaller each year, with its tight cubicles and suffocated staff. But if Santana stays true to her promise, and all things go well this morning, then it isn't going to stay that way for long.

"Brittany, Ms. Wilde is here to see you."

Brittany forces herself not to grimace, and glances at the clock. Her guest is unexpected, abrupt, and early. She's going to need to think fast on her feet. "Send her in."

Unique nods once, then disappears. Brittany only has enough time to stand and smooth down her blazer before Unique reappears, Kitty Wilde following close behind her.

"Hello, Mrs. Lopez."

Brittany takes the hand offered to her, trying to match Kitty's ferocious smile. "Kitty. I heard you just made partner at Jackson-Hart. The first in …how many years now?" She waves Kitty towards the hardest chair in her office.

"Almost a decade."

"Impressive." Brittany glances surreptitiously at her phone as she settles across Kitty. No messages. "One of the youngest, too, right?"

Kitty's smile widens. She isn't fooled by the small talk. "The youngest, actually."

"Of course. Santana always did say you would make it far. Which accounts are you holding?"

Something in Kitty's face shifts. Her eyes narrow, her smile thins. "Like I'd ever believe Santana hasn't told you." The time for niceties has ended. "Brittany, Sylvester Corps is concerned that Santana isn't planning to honour our deal."

Brittany feels herself start to tense, and tries not to show it. Calmly, she replies, "Santana doesn't break her promises. You know that."

"I know that she doesn't break some of her promises." Kitty corrects. "I've worked with your wife for four years, Brittany." Kitty eyes Brittany across the desk. Brittany feels the tightness in her office more than ever. "I think there's only one promise she hasn't broken, one way or another."

"Be careful, Kitty. Insinuating my marriage isn't very professional, is it?"

"Spare me, please." Kitty coolly interjects. "Santana made this personal long before any of us even considered it." She waves her hand dismissively. "We couldn't care less either way. Our only concern is the deal. If Santana doesn't follow through, we'll take our business elsewhere."

Brittany clenches her jaw.

"You know what that means, don't you? She won't survive the next election without us." Kitty stands abruptly, and Brittany rises after her. She will never give Kitty the pleasure of talking down at her.

"Don't forget," Kitty warns, "if Santana's right, and the President vets her for Secretary of State today, you stand to gain, too. Sylvester Corps is prepared to pledge half a million dollars to your charity." Her gaze roams across Brittany's office. "I heard you had plans of expanding. I'd hate for that dream to go to waste. You've already lost so many."

Brittany holds her breath. If your opponent ever manages to hurt you, Santana told her once, never let them see the wound. But it's too late—Kitty's seen the wound, and she is smirking triumphantly.

"It's been wonderful seeing you again, Mrs. Lopez. I'll see myself out."

It's been hours since Kitty left, and Brittany still hasn't heard from Santana. It's beginning to get on her nerves.

"Hey. I feel stupid leaving you messages like this, Santana. Call me."

Before they parted ways that the morning, Santana said she was meeting with President Schuster and Chief of Staff Hummel at exactly ten. Then she promised to call as soon as it was over, to share the news with her before the White House staff made the official announcement.

Now it's turning six. It's been nine hours.

"I'm leaving for the day." Brittany informs Unique, pulling on her coat with a huff. "I might not be around tomorrow. Hold all my messages."

It isn't like Santana to ignore her like this. Brittany runs through the possible explanations behind her silence, and dislikes each one.

She reaches for her phone and dials again. "I swear to God, Santana."

It's almost midnight when Santana walks through the front door. Brittany can tell that she's trying to be discreet: she keeps the lights off and carries her heels in one hand.

On any other night it might be amusing. Tonight it just pisses her off even more.

Brittany flicks the lamp beside her, flooding the room with light. Santana jumps like a startled wild animal, dropping her heels.

"Brittany!" She whisper-shouts, clearly dismayed Brittany hasn't already gone to bed. Santana's face falls at the sight of Brittany's hard gaze. "I—"

"You didn't call."

Santana makes a step closer. "I know. Britt, I—"

"You didn't call." Brittany interrupts. "You can't do that, Santana. Not when it's this important."

Santana nods, her hands fidgeting. She steps closer into the light. "I know. I should have called. I just…" She takes in a shuddering breath. "I wanted to have a solution first."

Brittany wills her voice to calm. She's been upset all day, but it's nothing compared to how she feels now, seeing Santana like this. She hasn't seen this version of her wife in years. "Do you?" Santana shakes her head. "What happened?"

Santana says nothing for a long moment. "Schuster didn't even show up." Everything in Brittany clenches at the defeat in Santana's voice. "He couldn't even tell me himself." She laughs mirthlessly, and Brittany hates the sound. She watches Santana walk to the wall, and lean against it. Every single movement looks dulled. "I walked into a trap in Kurt's office, Britt."

"Kurt? Kurt was in on this?"

"He said I'm 'more useful' to the administration in Congress."

"But you wrote Schuster's entire foreign policy. You secured his presidency. Everyone knows that." Brittany shakes her head in disbelief. "They promised you Secretary of State."

"Yeah, well. 'The circumstances have changed,'" Santana quotes, exaggerating Kurt's high voice. She snorts. "I can't believe I got him hired."

Brittany's mind races. Kurt must have already known they were going to betray Santana when he complimented her the other night. "We underestimated him." He was just buttering them up for the frying pan. "First Kitty Wilde, then Kurt Hummel. This is becoming inconvenient."

"What? What does Kitty Wilde have to do with any of this?"

"She came into my office today."

"What? Why didn't you—"

"I tried," Brittany says dryly. "You wouldn't pick up any of my calls." Santana opens her mouth, but Brittany cuts her off. "They're worried you aren't going to deliver on your deal." Brittany runs through the conversation in her mind. "I told her there was nothing to worry about, but she didn't believe me. She must have already known."

"She might have." Santana agrees. She studies Brittany for a long moment. "She said something else, didn't she?"

Kitty smirk flashes in Brittany's mind, and she breaks her gaze. Santana pushes herself off the wall automatically, and moves closer. Brittany can feel the dullness fading away; everything about Santana is becoming sharper again. "Britt."

Brittany shakes her head. "It doesn't matter."

"Britt."

Brittany sighs. "She just wanted to treat me like an idiot."

Santana's eyes flash dangerously. "What did she say?"

"She made some comments."

"That bitch," Santana growls. There it is. This is the anger Brittany's been waiting for. "What was it? Did she talk about the dancing?"

Brittany shrugs. It hurts to recount, but if this is what Santana needs to get back on track, she'll suffer the wound all over again. "She was being vague. It might have been the baby, too."

"No class." Santana sneers, as she begins to pace, fuming. It's never pleasant to rile Santana up. But they've been together for so long now, and she's already tried everything else. Nothing has ever managed to ground and motivate Santana as much as her anger. "This isn't over. I swear to you, Brittany." She marches abruptly to Brittany, before dropping to her knees before her. Santana takes her hands—it's a little rough, but Brittany doesn't mind—and grasps them tightly. "I'm going to fulfill my promise. It's going to be harder than I thought, but I don't care." She kisses her palms, her fingers. "You, me, and the world, baby. I won't stand for anything less."

Nay? Yay? Leave? Stay?