So I hate to admit guys, I'm kind of (huge understatement) bummed to see that I only have 24 reviews. I mean I know I'm not very good and kind of a noob when it comes to this writing stuff, but ouch. I was gone to camp for 2 weeks, excited to get home and check if I got any more reviews. As soon as I got home I hauled my ass upstairs to my computer and logged in, and wait for it… saw a total of two reviews.

Bam.

Like a fist in my eye. Total burn.

Anyway, sorry to turn this into a sappy rant page. Now review replies!

Pleasegirldontyoudieonme: Thank you so much. I read your review and as soon as I was done I screamed, "WOOP WOOP!" at the top of my lungs. Kind of lame of me, but I was ecstatic that you liked it!

StillHerRoger: I see you don't have an account (or at least I'm assuming that's what it means when it's not highlighted… I'm still new to this thing), but I'm hoping you're still reading! A HUGE shout out to you and a bigass smile for you because you said it's one of your favorites!

Kalexico: I totally agree. I'm hoping I can keep it interesting. I made this story after reading so many stories that were too alike for my taste. And it's kind of short, but you should check out "Stranded with Dinosaurs" by FrogsRcool. It's pretty interesting and even though I know the Jurassic Park story, it still kept me wanting more. I adore it! And you. This is me sucking up so you keep on reviewing ;)

GhastlytheGhost: Hoping you're still reading, I read your review and took note of it. Did my best to sort that out with some new insults in chapter 2, hope I've satiated your needs.

Whatever1260: Suggestion noted and very appreciated, will do!

Kay: Hoping you're still reading! I totally just realized that, my bad! I'll do my best not to slip again, but thanks for reading and commenting! It really goes to show that you were paying attention and not just skimming the lines.

Anna: If you're still reading, I'd like to say your suggestions are welcome, appreciated, and will be put into action ASAP!

Disclaimer: Glee does not belong to me and neither do the "for Dummies" series, but this story does.

International Annoyance

Chapter 3

The Morning After

A black head of bedraggled hair poked out beneath a mess of Egyptian cotton sheets. Santana Lopez, age 17, snoozed somehow gracefully with her face stuffed in a pillow and her legs strewn oddly, hanging off the bed.

This wasn't her normal sleeping pattern.

Why, you ask?

Because most days her feet were tucked comfortably inside her sheets, but this wasn't most days.

A loud, blaring alarm snapped the slowly awakening Latina out of her slumber. Bleary eyed and desperate she waved her arms around, sufficiently knocking everything off of her nightstand. But despite her best efforts, the obnoxious noises carried on mocking her. Santana glared daggers in the direction, her gaze only filled with half the vigor as usual. She slapped her hands on it fiercely and hurled it across the room to smack into a crinkled up poster of Madonna.

Santana groaned in frustration. She'd forgotten to unplug the damn thing for the weekend. Then she remembered she had absolutely nothing to do for the weekend, what kind of Cheerio was she? Not even a hot date to suffice. What was she going to tell Quinn when she bragged about her own weekend? She groaned again melodramatically.

"Sanny, tell the zombie to stop…"

Santana pushed herself back into bed and thought of zombies and that sleep filled voice that sounded oh so close.

"Thanks, San."

She was up off the bed in no time, scrambling to find the source of the voice. Quickly untangling herself from her expensive sheets she ripped them off her bed to see a very pretty, very half-naked blonde.

Oh shit. Did we do it? What happened last night? Did Puck spike our drinks again? No there wasn't a party last night. This is just like the Hangover, where's that fucking tiger?

Santana stood stock still, staring dumbfounded at the angel in her bed. Her jaw hung loose in the air, panic racing like a loose cannon in her eyes.

"Cold." Brittany mumbled groggily, no doubt hoping that someone would fix that problem for her. She lazed around on the bed, oblivious to the Latina girl staring at her in the room. Said Latina closed her mouth, letting her top lip meet her lower lip and just glanced at the sheets before picking them up skeptically. She turned her eyes to the shivering blonde and took pity, a miracle yes, but took pity nonetheless and laid the golden sheets over her. She ceased her trembling immediately; only to shiver again as Santana brushed her thumb across her forehead to move a featherlike golden wisp to the side.

Santana drew her hand back abruptly, taking notice of how the sleeping girl seemed to curl into her touch. "Sleeping Beauty." Santana whispered to the silent walls. She wandered away from the girl, much less panicked than before and hoping to sooth her racing heart with a healthy dose of homemade waffles. She'd deal with this awkward situation later.

Her bare feet pitter pattered against the stone tiled kitchen floor to a nearly empty pantry. Searching eyes flittered past empty boxes of cereal and past due instant oatmeal packages to land upon a half empty box of waffle powder mix. She smiled softly to herself, imagining the look on Brittany's face when she presented her with her own Lopez home cooked waffle.

She smiled and pulled a bowl and whisker out of her pantry before carefully mixing everything together; trying her best to keep it to a thick, slightly lumpy waffle consistency so it had a little battery goodness left in the crust when she cooked them.

It had been a solid three months since she'd met the blonde, but time didn't seem to matter to them. Their bond grew closer every day, bit by bit. And everyday Santana came home to an empty house, but the goofy smile never seemed to fail to cross her lips. But now, without the blonde in the room to bring that smile back, she remembered why the house was empty. She fumbled with her pajama pockets to cup her cell phone in her hand. She whipped it out and checked for any missed calls.

One missed call.

Her heart skipped a beat.

"Mami."

She pressed the 'select' button and waited impatiently for the name to pop up.

Brittany Pierce. The name flashed in bold white letters.

Santana choked a little, barely holding back a dejected sigh. She hummed to herself as she stirred her pain away, her humming quickly turning to singing. Her Gleemates always sang out their feelings, so why shouldn't she? Brittany was knocked out cold anyways; she probably wouldn't be up for another ten minutes.

She hesitantly let her voice fill the void of space, the empty space in her heart.

The space she held specifically for her mother.

"It's like forgetting the words to your favorite song.
You can't believe it; you were always singing along.
It was so easy and the words so sweet.
You can't remember; you try to feel the beat."

She slid the bowl onto a counter, letting her body flow with the music, emotion flowing from every pore of her body. She twisted with the music in her head, passing by the kitchen counter. She slapped her hands down on the counter, voicing the chorus lyrics louder than she would have intended. She spun herself with her imaginary partner, remembering how her mother waltzed with her around the kitchen like this when she was younger.

"You spend half of your life trying to fall behind.
You're using your headphones to drown out your mind.
It was so easy and the words so sweet.
You can't remember; you try to move your feet."

She stopped in the middle of the song and collapsed on her legs to the floor. She hung her head low in shame.

"I should be stronger than this." She mumbled to herself.

She picked herself up off the ground to stand beside her granite counter. Her eyes fell back to her phone on the counter. She slipped her fingers around the black, plastic casing and went to her gallery searching for a specific picture. She pulled her right hand up to her mouth and held back a whimper. There she was with her Mami back in June. That was five years ago, and three years before she left her fifteen year old daughter to fend for herself.

"Mami, why did you leave me? What did I do?" She clenched the phone in a death grip. Her finger hovered over the dustbin button, ready to delete the cherished photo. Delete the picture. Delete the pain.

She steeled herself and gently laid her finger on the button, not enough to press the button but just enough to scare her. She jerked her finger back and pressed the button beside it instead.

The gallery spun to the next picture to reveal a laughing blonde beauty and herself in their first block class. Her small smile was back and determined to bring her to better days. She snapped herself out of her depression, "I've got to finish these damnable waffles before Sleeping Beauty wakes up."

She smiled to herself at her new little nickname for the golden-haired goddess.

"Sleeping Beauty, eh?"

Santana snapped her head up from her waffle batter before doing a 360 and facing Brittany leaning against the archway to the kitchen. She scrambled for words, her jaw loose and unhinged again. There she stood in all her glory, an oversized blue, button up flannel shirt draping loosely over her denim-shorts clad hips. Her sleeves were rolled up and her bed head hair stuck out in odd angles. She strut her way over to the waffle making girl, squinting her eyes as the Saturday sunshine hit her like a brick.

"Cute name, princess charming. I see you didn't bother to wake me up with a kiss," She added in for good measure, peeking over the Latina's shoulder to see a bowl of patter. "But it's okay. Waffles make up for it."

She leaned up against the counter and bumped her hip against Santana's playfully before winking and clawing the air cutely. All of a sudden she beamed to herself and turned to the still shocked Latina, smirking cockily at her.

"So San, how did you like last night?"

An impressive array of cusswords made their way into Santana's mind before she managed to find her voice. She choked on air a couple more times before she could make use of her voice. She eyed the smirk warily before stuttering, "Good. Great. Amazing."

"Oh really? What was your favorite part? Mine was the cuddling."

After sex cuddling? No maybe she means innocent sleep cuddling. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Santana's mind was going into overdrive, trying hard to decipher the girl's expression. She was hoping to play it off and say the same. But cuddling? Everyone knew Santana Lopez. And Santana Lopez did not cuddle. She let out a groan, "Brittany I don't remember anything, please you're just fucking with me right now."

Brittany looked at her, completely offended. She pushed herself off the counter and started leaving the room, doing her best to make herself look as upset as possible. She looked absolutely livid and even slipped a few tears down her face for her own amusement.

Santana flipped shit.

"Wait, Brittany. Maybe I hit my head or something, um my favorite part? Definitely the foreplay. See? I remember everything."

Brittany spun on her heel and eyed her, sniffling back her tears and crossing her arms across her chest insecurely. "You really mean that, San?"

Santana nodded, still unsure of herself. But was sure she made the right decision and let out a sigh of relief after she saw the tears stop flowing. Brittany glided across the room to stand in front of Santana and rubbed away her tear streaks. "Hey, San?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm totally fucking with you." She deadpanned, waited ten seconds and then grinned like a Cheshire cat.

Complete silence took the room and didn't loosen its hold for a whole twenty seconds.

"Fuck you Brittany, and you're not getting waffles either."

Santana spun on her heel and stormed over to her batter, stirring it with all the pent up anger of a woman going through menopause. She did her best to zone out the boisterous laugh of the blonde in her ear. But she still couldn't help that smile from crossing her lips, no matter how duped she felt.

Brittany just strolled over, tears of laughter still pooling down her cheeks and hugged the breakfast chef around the waist from the back and pushed her lips against the hair shoulder. Her laughter muffled by the tanned shoulder, the vibrations and shudders still shook the two and interrupted Santana's stirring pattern.

"Sanny, I'm sorry," she mumbled against the girl's shoulder in a pleading fashion, "Can I still have some waffles?"

"Fine, but you're washing the dishes." Santana grumbled, still a sore loser after the whole morning fiasco.

"Deal." Brittany grinned cutely; glad she could still bring a smile to the girl this early in the morning. Her smile wavered as she recalled entering the kitchen earlier and watching her friend sing, dance, and cry only moments earlier. She itched with a burning need to race over to the girl and pick her up in her arms, hug the pain away with her soft words and loving touches. But she knew Santana would only be ashamed of her weakness. She didn't need to know that Brittany had seen her, so she stood back and watched the achingly beautiful girl self-destruct and pull herself back together again.

She pushed herself up on the counter to get a better look at Santana's waffle making and watched the Latina act like an average housewife making breakfast for her lover.

Lover.

She liked the sound of that, she decided as Santana poured the batter into a waffle maker.

"Britt, how'd you get here anyway? I woke up and all I saw was a half-naked girl next to me."

Not that I don't appreciate it.

Santana thought to herself and waited for the much needed response.

"You told me you'd help me with my homework last night but you never waited for me at Quinn's car like you said you would. So I took the bus here late last night and copied your homework! Then I got sleepy, so I went to sleep." She said without a care in the world like it was something people did every day.

"How did you get in? I swear those doors are locked." Santana had new locks every week. Some might say she was paranoid, but hell she lived in Lima Heights Adjacent for God's sake. You could never be too carefully in her opinion.

"Window!" Brittany beamed a childish smile in her direction.

Just then her phone sounded out with a text and interrupted her daydreams.

U, me, Satan, Quinn road trip? (; - Puckasaurus

"San, Puck just texted me. He says he wants a road trip with you, me and Quinn! It sounds so fun, can we go? Please?" She chewed down on her lip in the excitement of it all as Santana laid a steaming hot waffle in front of her.

"Sounds fun, but my cars in the shop and Puck wrecked his. And God knows Quinn won't let any of us in her car." Santana said, trying to find a way around their transportation problems.

Brittany hummed in acknowledgement and texted the mohawk headed boy back.

No car. motorcycle, wbu? – B

Santana leaned over her shoulder and scanned the text, "You have a motorcycle?"

"Yeah, I do motocross too. It's fun!" She chirped up happily.

"That's awesome, I'm riding with you because there's no way I'm putting my arms around 'Puckasaurus' stomach." She made air quote gestures just to exaggerate it and shuddered in disgust.

Brittany nodded, her mouth full of waffle and her eyes crinkling with excitement. Santana turned her back to the girl just so she wouldn't see her smiling big at the other girl's expression.

U ride? Me too, meet at Breadstix 1. C u l8r sexii (; - Puckasaurus

"Breadstix at one," Brittany mumbled out through a mouth half full of waffle and syrup. "These are really yummy!"

Santana smirked proudly, "Secret Lopez recipe." She winked and put her finger up to her lips at the word 'secret'.

Brittany hummed in response and checked the clock, "Oh! It's already eleven we should start getting ready." She washed off all the plates and dragged Santana into her room to pick out an outfit.

"You should wear red! I really like red, red like apples. Candy apples. They're so red and yummy. You'd look good in it, especially on my motorcycle because it's black. You should wear a tank top! And a leather jacket or something so you'll look all badass. Not that you don't all the time, but leather is so cool." Brittany babbled on, sifting through the giant closet and throwing clothes out onto the bed.

Santana just lay back on her bead and stared in amusement as the other girl pulled out about half her closet. Normally she'd be upset about someone going through her clothes and pulling out almost all of them for her to clean up. She just let that soft smile reach her eyes. But this was Brittany we're talking about, and Brittany just had that effect of Santana.

Santana twisted around to lie on her back and stare at the ceiling, going over the past events in the last three months. She'd met Brittany and the rest was a blur, a good blur. Everything after that moment had been laughter and smiles, but only with Brittany. She still reserved her spot as bitch queen extraordinaire by snapping at everyone else. No one dared mess with her, and no one dared mess with Brittany.

Last week a sophomore tried to get away with bumping into Brittany and knocking her books to the ground by accident. The next day he was found hanging by his jacket hoodie in a hallway archway. Everyone took turns throwing slushies at him, even Jew-fro.

Brittany had chastised her on being nice to underclassmen, but Santana could see how thankful and amused she really was by her feat.

Out of nowhere a white tank top dropped unceremoniously onto her face, followed by a brown leather jacket, adorned with brass buttons. It had a rugged, European look and made her look like a classy British-Latina girl. Very sexy in her opinion.

Brittany kept rummaging through the piles and sprang up, waving a pair of skinny jeans victoriously through the air. She giggled excitedly as she tossed it to the Latina and ran out of the room before screaming, "You better wear it, or I'll leave you stranded by Jew-fro's house!"

Santana visibly paled before pulling on all the clothes and checking herself out in front of a mirror. She looked good. And Brittany thought so too judging by the blue eyes racking her frame in the door way repeatedly. Santana smirked and waited for Brittany's eyes to meet her own brown ones.

She gasped playfully, "Brittany Pierce, were you just checking me out?"

Brittany gawked at her, remembering her saying those very words to her only three months ago. She struggled to regain her composure and strutted up to the Latina. She held her confident front and stood tall in front of the other girl, no less than three inches away from her.

Blue eyes met brown and held the gaze fiercely.

Revenge is a bitch, hon.

Santana kept her thoughts to herself and smirked, waiting for a response.

"Maybe I was?" She smirked, and spun on her heel with her hair flowing behind her.

Santana stood in her spot, "Hot damn." She ran out the door to follow the blonde, pulling her high brown boots on over her jeans.

They walked the rest of the way to a bus stop, holding pinkies as soon as they stepped off the driveway. Santana eyed every alley warily, her other hand ready to pull out her knife at any second. Brittany took quick note of it and slipped a second finger into Santana's hand. It was a little more intimate than usual, but did the job and calmed the fiery Latina down easily.

Brittany smiled, a skip in her step as she stopped in front of the bus stop. Their pinky and ring fingers still joined in a curling hug. Three fingers away from holding hands, Brittany thought to herself with a playful smile. They rode the bus in silence, staring out the window and shifting their fingers every now and then. But they never let go.

Half way through the ride they stopped at a stop light and let more passengers on. Brittany sat near the window and watched all sorts of people pass by her window. Kids, parents, and people of all ages and all emotions strolled down the sidewalks. Some were crying, some were laughing. It was all so surreal. But through the crowds of different people, Brittany managed to spot two people that were so much more interesting than everyone else in her opinion.

Kurt, she recognized, and a boy holding his hand rather intimately and dressed in a navy blue blazer uniform. They ignored all the passing glares and paid attention to only each other. Brittany let a small smile grace her face as she watched the other boy pull off his blazer and wrap it around Kurt's shoulders with a chaste kiss on the cheek. The chilly November air must have gotten to them.

She hesitated for a second before tugging softly on Santana's sleeve for her attention. Santana turned her attention to her immediately, looking at her with curious, deep brown eyes.

"San, aren't they cute?" She pointed at Kurt and the other boy, desperately hoping for a positive response from Santana.

Said Latina took a second to look between the homosexual couple and Brittany, watching the warm smile and the adoring look in her blue eyes. She took a deep breath and smiled. She wouldn't ever tell Kurt and Blaine what she really thought of them, but she'd tell Brittany. The words she was about to speak would shock the gay couple into a coma.

"Yeah, Britt. They're cute." She smiled softly as she watched the autumn leaves flutter around outside the window. She yearned to be held the way Kurt and Blaine held each other, but crushed that hope in the back of her mind as she watched and elderly couple shoo them away with a newspaper. A couple passing adults sneered at them and bumped them rudely. The couple continued on, braving the onslaught of discrimination.

Brittany watched the yearning look in Santana's eyes change to a look of pained wanting and then anger as she saw the mistreatment of the boys. "Maybe they'll find somewhere else. Like New York or California where they can get married and be okay."

Santana just stared her in the eye and didn't say anything. But her eyes spoke it all, she didn't believe Brittany in the slightest. Santana noticed the elderly woman across the aisle eyeing her hand grasped in Brittany's and shakily pulled their grip apart.

Brittany felt a sharp pang of hurt sucker punch her as they separated. Santana turned her eyes away and didn't say a word for the rest of the ride. At that moment Brittany Pierce knew that there was hope. Hope that maybe Santana would love her. And it would be difficult, but it would be so, so worth it.

Ten pages. Ow.

I have a sore in my neck and shoulder the size of Texas but I really, really loved writing this chapter. So I'm only going to say this once, because I'm not writing another chapter unless I get enough reviews. Sorry guys, but I'm not a self-motivated type of person. So it's review or nothing.

This chapter was definitely longer than my other chapters and it was totally inspired by the song in this chapter, Eet – by Regina Spektor.

Review. Twentyfive by next Tuesday or I'm out. There's like a billion hits and views but no REVIEWS. Maybe I'm being a bitch about this but it's like my only motivation.

And by the way I'm thinking of writing a new fic along the side, so put that in your review. Soccer Brittana or Harry Potter Brittana? I know more about soccer quite frankly, but I think it'd be interesting (:

My bad if I messed up my grammar anywhere, I did this all without breaks so I might've blanked out and messed up somewhere in here.

Over and out!

International Annoyance