A/N: I meant to say this last time, but THANK YOU to everyone, this story has had the highest response of any of my stories, so, thanks :D

This is, pretty much, a chapter of fluff. I'm in the throes of exam stress, and so fluff is all I can muster at the moment, but I hope it's enjoyable fluff :D Also, I've only had the chance to read through this once, so there may be a few more mistakes than normal, feel free to point them out haha

As ever, any mistakes are completely my own, Glee and the characters aren't. Reviews would be much, much appreciated. Please? ^.^

Berkeley, California: October 2012:

Santana woke to the smooth heat of the sun along her arm and soft kisses being brushed along her jaw and cheeks. As her eyes flickered open she became aware of the warm, slightly sticky body pressed alongside hers, hips occasionally pressing harder against her thigh and she did nothing to stop a tired moan pushing into the heavy, moist air. She heard a light giggle and painfully hot, wet flesh move across her leg until Brittany completely straddled her, still swirling her hips every now and then.

"Good morning. I thought you were never going to wake up. Although," Brittany moved her hand down to grip between Santana's thighs. "Some of you woke up much earlier." Santana's mouth popped open and her cheeks heated and darkened at Brittany's unabashed stare. Brittany's eyes darkened and deepened, sparkling gently in the early morning light as her hand slowly shifted up and down, her touch feather light; just enough to begin to frustrate Santana. "I am so, so, so glad you have a single room." Brittany whispered before her hand tightened and she pressed their bodies flush.

If Santana could have formed a coherent thought at that moment, she would have wholeheartedly agreed.

Brittany stretched her body indulgently, knees and shoulders cracking rewardingly, before she rolled to her side and realised that she was alone, and where Santana had been, was cold. She scrunched her nose in confusion as she looked around the room finding it completely void of Santana. She sat up, causing the thin sheet to pool around her waist and her skin automatically turned to goose flesh. Pointlessly turning her head once again (she knew Santana wasn't just going to pop out from under the bed or the desk or materialise from thin air) she suddenly felt self conscious at her exposed skin and tugged and shrugged the sheet up and around her shoulders, before wriggling from the bed and grabbing at her clothes still strewn across the floor from last night.

She stood, fully clothed, and pirouetted on the balls of her feet, completely at a loss as to what to do. She slumped down into Santana's desk chair, pulling her knees towards her and resting her chin upon them, suddenly feeling irrationally hurt and the itchy prickle of tears in her eyes. She hugged her legs closer towards her torso and moved her gaze to the window.

She didn't know why she was so upset, it's not like Santana would have left her, this was Santana's dorm room after all; but she couldn't stop the doubt from tugging at her heart and a forlorn, solitary ache in her gut.

Lima: March 2009:

Santana twisted her head to look at the clock that Brittany always had on her bedside table. The small green luminous numbers flashed 02:37am and the sheen of sweat upon her skin was clammy, uncomfortable, suffocating.

It had only been three minutes since she last looked, and only another two before that and only another five before that and only…Since she woke up at 1am in the arms of the person she had just lost her virginity to.

She turned her head away, looking down at the blond wave of hair (the only visible part of Brittany to her without moving) and was suddenly hit with a rolling flood of nausea and self loathing. She took several deep breaths staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore the softening in her heart at the sight of the glow in the dark stars a ten year old Brittany had pushed up onto her toes to press firmly to the smooth, white ceiling, with Santana's hands at her back and waist to stop her toppling off the bed.

She turned her head once again to the clock, taunting her reading 02:41am. The smell of sex and sweat and the musty heaviness in the air made her stomach twist once again and her breath to come out raggedly in loud pants.

"Shit! What did I do?" Her voice was hoarse in jarring in the otherwise silent room.

She couldn't stay here.

She couldn't stay in this bed where a circle of the sheet was stuck to her knee, obscenely by her own release, and where Brittany was curled into her side, hair spilling across the pillow to tickle at Santana's cheek.

"Fuck! This was such a mistake."

Santana tried to gently wiggle her arm from underneath Brittany's neck without waking her, but it was taking too long, and she suddenly felt trapped by Brittany's weight and the sheet wound around their legs. She tugged sharply and her arm slithered out, causing Brittany's body to tilt slightly; Santana held her breath praying that she wouldn't wake. When Brittany hummed in contentment and only pressed her face further into her pillow, Santana released her breath, turning and grabbing at her clothes.

She hadn't even pulled on her jeans before she could feel the first of the tears stinging at her eyes.

"I'm not a dyke. I can't be." She was muttering to herself under her breath, voice thick, tugging at the zips and buttons more forcefully than necessary, her fingers fumbling uselessly.

By the time she had zipped up her jacket, it was taking all of her strength not to start sobbing (and if she was honest, she was using all her strength not to climb back into the bed and wrap Brittany tightly back around her) and she clumsily tripped down the stairs, angrily dragging at the corners of her eyes.

She couldn't believe what she had just done.

She wasn't gay.

She wasn't.

Just because she had a penis didn't mean she was gay.

She didn't need to be any more of a freak than she already was.

That's why her parents had changed her schools when she became Santana; no one would understand how Santiago had become Santana, was so much happier as Santana.

(Except Brittany, a small voice whispered)

She couldn't be gay.

She couldn't disappoint her parents, or her Abuela (possibly the most important adult in her life) like that; she knew this was wrong. She spent hours throughout her life reading the small, white leather bound Bible her Abuela had gotten her for her First Holy Communion, and listening to her priest and her family discuss God and the way He helps people to live and make choices in their lives.

It had never being directly discussed, but it didn't change that Santana knew that with another woman, even if one of them had male sexual organs, was not one of those options.

She hadn't even made it to the end of the street before she felt the acid and bile bubble up her throat and burst onto the pavement. She fell to her knees and retched repeatedly before she managed to get her breathing back under control and push up onto her feet.

Her sobs bubbled into the otherwise silent night as she stumbled back along the streets; her feet felt heavy like lead or gold, her legs non responsive whilst flashes of the evening, indelibly burnt upon her memory, followed her home.

Her hands were shaking so badly by the time she reached her front door that it took her several attempts to push the key into the lock and twist it successfully until the tumblers clicked and the door swung open. She had managed to stop the sobs, but by the time she had pushed her bedroom door behind her, her knees buckled, her body sliding down the door where she collapsed onto the floor into a ball and let them take over her body.

Brittany shifted in her sleep, her subconscious aware of movement other than her own in the bed. As the movement increased her brain started waking up, and she registered Santana's whispered, rasping voice.

Feeling Santana's warm arm moving from beneath her body, she twisted, but kept her eyes closed in an attempt at not becoming fully awake. A heavy breath hit her face and she sensed Santana moving away. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought and her eyes automatically flickered open landing on the clock.

02:49am

She heard the sounds of Santana scrambling on the floor and clothes being pulled against skin before Santana's voice once again filled the room. "I'm not a dyke. I can't be." Brittany could hear the tears that Santana was trying to stop from falling, and the hate that threaded through such a simple sentence made her heart ache and her stomach twist and her muscles tense painfully. She felt her bottom lip begin to tremble, and quickly sucked it into her mouth to stop any sounds escaping.

It wasn't until she heard her bedroom door and then the front door click closed that she let her lip go and loud sobs reverberated around the room as Brittany curled up in her bed, desperately hugging the pillow Santana had being using.

For a week Brittany stoutly ignored Santana at school, getting there early to grab all of her books and binders from her locker and then staying later to avoid her when she returned the ones she wouldn't need. Every time she caught a glimpse of Santana in the hallway or the library or the cafeteria or her classes, her heart would clench and ripples of hurt would march down her spine, spreading throughout her body. It wasn't until Puck's weekly party that Friday that she was in the same room as Santana without the protection of tables and chairs and teachers.

Santana smiled hesitantly across the room at her, she had no idea why Brittany had been avoiding her; she had sent a text explaining that she had to get home before her parents woke up, oblivious to the fact that Brittany had heard everything she had said. When Brittany didn't turn her head away instantly, Santana took a small step towards her and reached out to take Brittany's hand.

Brittany recoiled, tucking her hands under her arm pits and emphatically shook her head no, glaring at Santana. Santana frowned, her arm hanging uselessly between them, unsure what to do.

"Britt, what," Brittany took another step back, hugging herself tighter and Santana's frown deepened. "Brittany! What the fuck? Why are you ignoring me and treating me like I'm Treasure Trail?" Santana tried to stop others from noticing them having what anyone could see was closer to a lovers spat than an argument between best friends, and her words came out as a low, harsh hiss. "I mean, did I do something?"

Brittany scoffed turning her body away from Santana and pulling at the wisps of hair that were escaping her braid in frustration. "You left me Santana." Santana frowned, and her mouth opened a little in confusion. "You fucked me, and then you left!" Santana's eyes widened, grabbing onto Brittany's wrist before she could stop it and pulling them into one of the other rooms away from the crowd. Brittany yanked her arm away and pushed forcefully at Santana's chest. "You, you…you were my first, and you just leave like I'm some…some slut who opens her legs for anyone! And then! And then you send me a shitty lying bullshit text and act like nothing happened." Santana felt her cheeks burn and her palms begin to sweat.

"I told you, I had to get back before my par-"

"No!" Brittany yelled, pushing at Santana once again. "No! I heard you. I heard you Santana. Saying it was a mistake and that we shouldn't have done it and that you can't be a dyke. I heard you." Angry tears were pooling in Brittany's eyes and falling down her checks and she pulled roughly at them.

"I…I'm sorry B. I didn't…I didn't mean to make you feel like that." Santana took a small step closer, her face scrunched in hurt and confusion and the self disgust that had been brewing steadily since their first kiss suddenly boiling over, becoming too much. "I'm so sorry, I just…I'm not gay, and that night, we shouldn't have done it, that…it's not-" Suddenly Santana's cheek was burning, stinging, and Brittany's mouth sprung open in shock, eyes wide.

Brittany had slapped her.

Brittany had slapped her.

Santana lifted her hand, protectively to her cheek, wet from tears and hot from the impact. Brittany's mouth formed, as if speaking, but no words made it out into the uncomfortably silent room. "I love you Santana." The words were broken and sharp in the room.

"As friends, Brittany." Brittany shook her head in wide over exaggerated strokes, but she allowed Santana to step closer and wind her fingers around Brittany's wrist. "As friends Britt, we can't…" Brittany's bottom lip and her chin trembled, and an urge to kiss her, make her stop looking like a kicked puppy spread through Santana. She lifted slightly onto her toes, her hands tightening, before her brain realised what she was doing and pulled away, putting a small gap between them. "Friends."

Brittany looked at her, blue eyes hard and disappointed, causing Santana to flinch back in fear and she tugged her wrists free. "Friends?" Santana didn't know if she was meant to answer or not, so she remained silent, sure that Brittany had more to say. Brittany huffed before pushing past Santana towards the main room again. "If you say so Santana."

Santana spent the rest of the evening slumped on the couch, pushing at Puck's wondering hands away from her chest and glaring at Brittany as she danced with as many guys as possible. The dancing got sloppier and the guys got more handsy as the beer kegs started to diminish, until Mike Chang had his arms wrapped around Brittany's waist and his tongue down her throat.

Or maybe Brittany's tongue was down his throat.

Sudden white hot rage and jealously spiked through Santana and she shoved Puck (much harder than she meant causing him to fall off the arm he was balanced on in order to get the best look down Santana's dress) storming through the dancing bodies until she reached the blonde.

"Britt! Brittany." Brittany pulled her mouth away from Mike's, but didn't pull their bodies apart or slow their hips from shifting with the beat, although Mike's eyes widened a little in fear even through the beer haze. Brittany's eyes were hazy, slightly unfocused, but Santana could still make out the strong disappointment.

"What?" Her voice was sharp, stinging Santana more than the slap had.

"What are you going Brittany? I thought you said you didn't want a boyfriend." Santana had no idea why she was so angry, or so jealous, but she was going to back down now.

"Mike's not my boyfriend. He's just a boy I'm kissing, who knows maybe doing more with later." Brittany paled slightly, sleeping with Mike, or anything more than kissing, was the last thing she wanted to do, but she wasn't going to let Santana keep treating her like this. "You left me remember?" Santana looked hurt, but still didn't move, and the smell of her perfume and her soap was making Brittany's head spin much faster than the beer and she wanted her to either leave or hug her and never let go. "I don't need any more friends." She spat, and Santana finally turned to leave. She made it to the front door before the tears start to drip down her face again.

Berkley: October 2012:

It wasn't the last time Santana left Brittany in her bed alone, hating herself and feeling sick and wrong every time.

It wasn't the last time that Brittany spent the night crying into the pillow Santana had been using and feeling so angry at Santana that she didn't know what to do.

But Brittany thought Santana was long over that, she thought Santana realised that yes she was gay, like really gay, and that there was nothing wrong with that.

So why had she once again woken up alone in a cold bed?

Brittany had just shuffled her feet back onto the floor, decided that she was going to pack up her bag and get a taxi to the station when she heard loud footsteps, deep pants and the unmistakable thump of a bass line. The door swung open and Santana, un running shorts, sports bra and a hoodie bounced into the room, head nodding along with the beat from her iPod.

Brittany yelled in pleasure, before launching herself towards Santana, pulling the smaller woman flush against her body and clinging to her tightly around her waist. She was mumbling into Santana's neck, the movement of her lips causing tingles to spread across Santana, but her proximity and low volume meant Santana couldn't understand what she was saying. Santana gently pushed her palms against Brittany's shoulders, moving to cup her chin her thumb brushing at the tears, kissing those she couldn't reach. "Sweetbee? Why are you crying?" Santana's voice was soft, soothing and she pressed her lips gently against Brittany's cheeks once more.

"I thought you were…I thought…I woke up and you were gone!"

Santana cringed, mentally slapping herself at not leaving a note so Brittany would know she had gone for a run. She pulled Brittany close, placing a hand at the back of her head, rubbing circles onto her back with the other. "Oh Britt, I'm so sorry! I didn't think to leave you a note. I'm so sorry." She kissed along Brittany's hairline, her fingers massaging at her scalp, until Brittany's tears stopped.

"No, I'm sorry I didn't trust you San. You haven't done that to me in like two years. I just…I woke up and the bed was cold. And I panicked. I'm sorry." Santana smiled a little before brushing their noses together and trailing the tip of her tongue along the edge of Brittany's bottom lip. The rest of Brittany's apology caught in her throat, turning into a quiet moan.

"How about," Santana's breath was hot, tickling at Brittany's lips and she leant forward, trying to capture Santana's lips again. "Nuh uh," Santana pulled back a little, their noses still touching. "How about, we go for a late breakfast, then come back for some more," Santana gently nipped at Brittany's lower lip. "Physical activities?" Brittany whined, the sound reverberating in her throat before she nodded, eyes flickering to where she knew Santana's lips were. "Awesome. Let me just have a shower then, I'll be ready in twenty minutes tops."

Brittany firmly gripped Santana's chin before she turned her head to the side and licked slowly with the flat of her tongue up her neck. "But you taste, and smell, awesome S." Brittany's voice was lower and slightly raspier than usual and Santana felt the breath in her throat catch and a slight pressure building in her gut and between her legs.

"But I'm hungry B. We had like, four rounds of sex and I've just gone for a run." She frowned, trying to pout, but Brittany just flicked at the protruding bottom lip.

"Well, the sex was brilliant and the run was your idea, so stop your bellyachin'" Just then Santana's stomach growled loudly, and both women burst into giggles. "Fine! Fine! We can go eat. Go in the shower." When Santana didn't move, still giggling, Brittany twisted her body towards the door and slapped her arse. "Go!"

Two hours, three showers and another round of sex later, they walked out fingers lightly tucked together, headed to Santana's favourite café (where the coffee was cheap but tasted amazing, the food was filling, if simple, and the wait staff were cute, coming in all different shapes and sizes and colours) that she had found, completely by accident on one her more adventurous runs.

A café, she later found out when excitedly explaining its location to Alice, everybody else on campus knew about after the first week. (They had laughed at her shocked and confused pout for what felt like hours when she finished describing it).

The exterior was lavish, almost Georgian with a narrow, but tall, entrance way in sculpted smooth white, surrounded by uneven bright red bricks, like fresh raspberries clustered around crisp, sweet crème fresh. The interior couldn't be more different. The multiple, mismatched frames holding photographs of the surrounding area, paintings of far away places (some Santana wasn't even sure were real places) and the seemingly pre-requisite still lives and enlarged coffee cups, were haphazardly strewn along the walls. The walls themselves were once a rich, earthy, dark orange (it always reminded Santana of the clay soils seen in adverts for Australian outback holidays or safari packages in Africa) that was now faded and covered in random swatches of different colours that Henry and Olivia had contemplated repainting with. The mixture of square and circular tables were obviously old, but clean, never with the sticky remnants of past spilt coffee or smeared detergents, and Santana loved the way she had to zig zag to reach anywhere and that the layout changed every time she was there.

They turned into the street the café was on, and Santana suddenly felt nervous. What if Brittany didn't like it? What if she thought the paint swatches (with the name of the colour scribbled hastily in pencil underneath) were scrappy, not quaint? What if she thought the arrangement of the tables was cluttered, claustrophobic? Or that the food was too plain? The art wasn't thematic enough or uncultured? She subconsciously slowed the closer she got to the entrance, hers and Brittany's arms stretched between them until their fingers slipped apart and Brittany turned towards her in confusion.

"What's wrong Dollface?" Brittany walked back, tilting her head and holding Santana's hips occasionally pressing her thumbs against the exposed bones.

"I just…I really…oh my God this is ridiculous." Santana shook her head quickly and ran her fingers through her hair nervously. "I really like this café, and I don't want you to think its...cheap and tacky or something." Brittany smiled, biting her lip as she leant forwards and rubbed their noses together in an Eskimo kiss.

"You're fucking adorable San. You know I'm not a big judgemental…person. And if you love it, I'm sure I will too. But," Santana frowned slightly. "It doesn't matter if we don't feel the same way about everything, so long as we're not rude about the things that we don't like. Okay?" Santana smiled softly and nodded before kissing Brittany chastely and tangling their fingers together again dragging her towards the café.

Santana led her to her favourite table (today it was even close to her favourite location, near the back and allowed people watching) as Brittany's neck stretched and twisted to look at all of the pictures and trying to read all the colour names (impossible even up close most of the time).

Santana pushed gently at her shoulders to get her to sit down, before kissing her on the forehead and making her way over to the counter to order their favourites. Brittany loved this place. It was cluttered and quirky and completely different to any other café or coffee shop she had been in before. And it smelt like real flowers and coffee and bread. She noticed Santana was taking longer than expected to order their drinks, and had to stifle her giggle at the barista desperately flirting with a flustered awkward Santana, who apparently still wasn't used to girls flirting with her or how to tell them politely to get lost. She would leave it another couple of minutes before she saved her.

Or until the girl touched her one more time.

Which she did.

Brittany narrowed her eyes before sauntering over and leaning her chin on Santana's shoulder. She could feel Santana instantly relax into her touch and reach a hand back to grip Brittany's own. The barista looked awkwardly between the two of them, occasionally glancing at the small notepad between her fingers. "This, um, this is my girlfriend I was talking about." Brittany mentally high fived that she had been brought up, and smiled sweetly at the girl as her fingers wiggled in a curt greeting.

"Oh, your girlfriend. Right. I'll make your drinks and bring them right over."

"Thanks." Brittany said in her best sweet, innocent Cheerio voice before tugging gently at Santana's waist back towards their table. "She was flirting with you."

Santana's cheeks flooded with heat and her breath caught in her throat. "I know B, I'm so sorry, I didn't know how to get away with being rude, I kept mentioning you, but it didn't seem to make a difference. I didn't know what to say. It was always easy with the high school guys. And being a bitch was easy, I was always so angry with myself and with the world…but I'm not like that here, and I had no idea what to say to her."

"Oh Sanny, it's okay! I don't mind if people flirt, even if you flirt a little back, so long as I still have your heart. And obviously you don't kiss or sleep with any of them." Brittany smiled softly as she reached across and plucked at Santana's pinkie.

"Really? You didn't mind that she was flirting with me?"

"No! You're hot. And, like, really gay. Like I said, so long as I still have your heart." Brittany scrunched her nose, and seeing the barista making her way over to them, gripped Santana's hand a little firmer. She set the drinks down, unable to meet either of their eyes before quickly making her way back to the safety of the counter, the muffled giggles of Santana and Brittany trickling into the air.

The weekend passed in a blur of (passionate, rough, slow, fast, loud, intimate, quiet, frantic, controlled) sex, discussions about nothing and everything and visits to get food only when desperately required. It seemed altogether too soon when Brittany twisted in Santana's arms and reached for her watch, sighing before wriggling from the bed. Santana, whose eyes were still closed, breathing deeply and slowly, whined in protest before clumsily twitching her arms in a delayed attempt to prevent Brittany from leaving. Brittany giggled softly as she pulled on her clothes and stuffed the few things that had actually made it out of her bag, back in. She sat and watched Santana sleep for a few minutes more, before looking once again at her watch.

"San?" She pressed a soft kiss to Santana's forehead, brushing her fingers to what was sure to be some epic sex hair. "Santana? Sweety? My train leaves in half an hour." Santana's face crumpled into a frown before one eye opened, dark brown swimming into view.

"Do you really have to go?"

Brittany bit her lip, scratching gently at Santana's scalp. "Yeah Santana, I do. Unless you want me to become a bum and for you to be my sugar mama. 'Cos I feel I should warn you, if that happens, you better be a good and rich one to keep me into the style of life to which I've become accustomed, otherwise I shall have to find a better offer." Brittany quirked her eye brow, trying to keep a straight face at Santana's over exaggerated pout. A loud, forceful laugh tripped from Brittany's lips and she reached forward to nip gently at the extended bottom lip. "Come on, time for me to head back San." Santana sighed before pulling herself from the bed, kicking at the thin sheet they had thrown over themselves to keep the chill away.

"Okay, I'm coming."

They stood on the platform, bodies flush together, fingers tickling at any exposed flesh, Santana's eyes flickering over Brittany's face (they never could keep still, even when she was a baby, always curious and conscious about what was going on around her) whilst Brittany's gaze was steady and calm.

"I had a really beautiful weekend Britt." Santana's voice was low and quiet, not wanting to pop the bubble around them.

Brittany smiled before rocking on her heels gently. "And, by beautiful, you mean sex filled."

Santana opened her mouth in shock insult and quickly averted her gaze. "No! Well, I mean, it was sex filled, which was most defiantly spectacular, but we spent Saturday afternoon away from our bed. Plus, anything that involves you being naked is automatically beautiful."

Brittany snorted before kissing the tip of Santana's nose. "Dork." Santana shrugged one shoulder nonchalantly before she gripped at Brittany's fingers tightly with her own and trailing one finger along Brittany's exposed collarbone.

"Maybe, but I'm your dork." The sudden loud arrival of the train made them both jump, then laugh at their own skittishness. Santana felt a sudden wave of loss and an ache in her heart; she quickly grasped at Brittany's cheeks, crashing their lips together in a desperate, sloppy kiss. "I love you so much Brittany." Brittany smiled, before gently repositioning their mouths in a softer more practised kiss.

"I love you too San." She brushed their noses gently before chastely kissing her once more and pulled away. "Now, I have to get on this train, but that doesn't mean I want to leave you, or love you any less dork." Santana smiled, wiping the few escaped tears on her shoulder. "I will see you in two weeks time, okay? Two little, short weeks. And we will text and call and sext." Brittany wiggled her eyebrows suggestively making Santana laugh, thickly, wetly.

Santana squeezed Brittany's fingers one more time before they pulled apart and Brittany boarded the train. "Two weeks." Santana called behind her, causing Brittany to twirl on the balls of her feet to nod emphatically, trying to keep her owns tears at bay. It was silly, they would see each other soon, and one of them would crumble and call the other before Brittany had even got off the train, but the weekend had been so intense and so isolated that it physically hurt to be separated. As Brittany sat in her seat, she leant her forehead against the window and waved at Santana (whose arms were wrapped around her waist tightly and whose left foot was nervously twisting and pressing against the right, face gently scrunched in an attempt to stop anymore tears from falling) not even blinking until Santana was too small to be seen an her gaze was so unfocused the world was just a swirl of colours.

A/N: So, the café is completely fictional, I spent about two hours trying to find cafés or coffee shops that were near by the university but couldn't find anything that I liked enough to describe or from a website reliable enough for me to be sure that it was actually where they said it was; so if you live in the area and there is nothing like that, I'm sorry!

Thanks for reading! ^.^

Review please? *blatant begging*