"As much as I love boxing, I hate it. And as much as I hate it, I love it." -Budd Schulberg


Brittany pushed her way through the small bar. The maximum capacity couldn't have been more than 50 people, and she was pretty sure it was packed past that. Her eyes scanned the room for Santana, but she didn't see her anywhere. Next step, phone number, Brittany thought to herself as she ordered a beer from the bartender. She ignored the voice in the back of her head (that sounded suspiciously like Wes) warning her to watch her drinking. She had taken some painkillers, but nowhere near enough to interfere with the alcohol.

Moving towards an available patch of wall, Brittany kept on the lookout for Santana. It wasn't until the lights dimmed and a spotlight focused on the small stage that Brittany realized why she hadn't seen her.

Santana was on the stage, adjusting the mic so it was level with her lips as she sat on a bar stool. She brushed a strand of hair from her face, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as her eyes scanned the crowd. Brittany raised her hand in acknowledgement, but didn't know if Santana could see past the glare the spotlight put on her. Someone started playing a piano tucked in the corner near the stage, and Santana picked up on the beat with a slow song Brittany didn't recognize.

The song danced around Brittany slowly; Santana's voice warmed her yet sent chills down her spine at the same time. Brittany sipped her beer but couldn't take her eyes off the woman, raw and vulnerable on stage as she poured herself into the song. Santana performed a medley of sorts and at the end she received a hearty round of applause and wolf whistles. Brittany put her empty bottle down and clapped loudly as Santana took a small bow and headed off stage towards the bar, smiling and shaking hands with other patrons as they fawned over her.

"Well then..." Brittany said as she wheedled her way up to the bar where Santana was ordering a drink. "Yeah, I'm just speechless," Brittany shrugged, motioning to the bartender for another beer.

Santana laughed, a light flush covering her cheeks. "Oh, stop it" she rolled her eyes as she put down money for her drink and Brittany's.

"And now you're paying for my drink," Brittany threw up a hand. "Okay, I give up."

"I think your pain meds are making you loopy," Santana laughed before taking a sip from her drink.

"No, it's the pain meds and the alcohol that are doing that," Brittany deadpanned. She smiled and shook her head before Santana could protest. "I'm fine, I won, remember? Didn't take too much abuse this time." Her thoughts fell back on the match she had lost (or more accurately, the match she threw), but Santana put her hand on her arm and brought her attention back to the present.

"Thanks for coming," she said, her voice rising just enough to cover the music the bar had begun playing.

"Of course," Brittany took a long swig from her beer. She didn't want to ask why Santana had invited her in the first place for fear of making things uncomfortable, she was just happy it had happened. She also didn't mention all the shit she'd be in for completely blowing off her winner's party to be here. "Glad to bump into you in a setting outside a hotel bathroom." Brittany paused, ignoring how that could sound not so great. "How long have you been singing?"

Santana chuckled to herself, almost ruefully. "Well, I've been singing since I was four, but I don't know if I'd call the rare performance in a rundown bar, while using a pseudonym to protect my identity, and more importantly-" Santana rolled her eyes at that "-my father's, 'singing'." She looked down into her drink before gulping down the last bit and motioning to the bartender for another.

"So...your dad doesn't know you sing? Does Ricky know?" Brittany frowned slightly.

"Well, my dad knows I can sing. I grew up with him complimenting my voice, telling me I sounded better than the angels." She laughed bitterly. "And Ricky doesn't know. The most he hears is me singing in the shower, and now, ironically, he's too busy dealing with my father to notice if I actually sound good or not."

"You should surround yourself with people who support what you love," Brittany said, more solemn than she meant to be, and realizing she might be out of line. She bit her lip and stared at the row of bottles along the back of the bar, not risking meeting Santana's dark eyes.

"I never said I loved singing," Santana said shortly.

"So you just sneak into bars and do it because you hate it?" What the fuck, Pierce? Brittany kicked herself mentally. Real smooth.

"And you get the shit kicked out of you because you love it, right?" Santana was staring at Brittany, her face emotionless. Brittany met her hard stare.

"It's different," she said roughly. The women paused, retreating to their drinks, both aware of the tension that had built between them.

"I love the things I box for," Brittany said after a moment. "The people I box for." Images of Kait and her mother flooded her already fuzzy thoughts. Santana nodded slightly.

"I'll drink to that. Actually, I'll take shots to that," she motioned for the bartender and ordered two shots.

"Let me pay this time," Brittany laughed, pulling a few dollars from her pocket, just glad that the tension seemed to be broken. They clinked glasses and tossed the liquor back, both looking back at each other with scrunched faces.

"Shots will never not burn," Brittany smacked her lips together before taking a sip of her beer, trying to get the taste out of her mouth.

"Toughen up there, Miss Boxer!" Santana punched Brittany's arm playfully. Brittany feigned pain, causing Santana to toss her head back with raucous laughter.

The night went smoothly after that, and quickly. They each had one more drink, making them last longer than the other rounds had. Brittany noticed she was a bit drunk when she got up to pee at one point. She also noticed the way Santana would rest her hand on her thigh when she leaned in to talk over the music, making her muscle twitch under pale skin and her stomach flip.

Eventually the two of them made their way out of the bar. Santana said she lived just a few blocks away, and Brittany said she'd walk her back. They walked in comfortable silence, and every so often Santana would veer into Brittany, causing her to laugh before gently righting the other woman. Santana only protested that she wasn't drunk, and Brittany would say "We're both drunk, but you don't see meee veering off in a crooked line."

"You're so drunk you couldn't punch the side of an apartment building," Santana teased.

Brittany promptly walked towards the nearest building a few feet off the sidewalk and lightly hit the brick wall with her fist. "Ow," she stated, drawing her hand back towards her chest. Santana snorted and pulled Brittany back towards her and across the street.

"You're silly," She mumbled as she led Brittany up the front stairs of a tall apartment building. Brittany smiled, sure that "silly" was not a word Santana Lopez used often. Brittany found it was somehow easier to ignore the pain in her hand with the woman in front of her teasing her.

Santana turned around and pushed her hands into her jacket pockets, searching for her keys. Brittany stepped closer, feeling the butterflies in her stomach kick up into a frenzy.

"I had fun tonight," she said, smiling as she watched Santana feel for her keys.

"Aha!" Santana pulled the keys victoriously from her right pocket. "Oh, yeah, me too," Santana grinned as her fingers curled around her keys. Her eyes flickered from Brittany's down to her lips. The look didn't go unnoticed by Brittany, and before she could stop herself she leaned forward.

Santana mimicked the motion, but they both froze halfway, their breaths coming in short puffs, visible between them in the cold night air. Santana's eyes were hooded, and Brittany silently asked her brain to stop thinking for one second before tilting her head forward once more, this time closing the gap and placing her lips softly on Santana's. It was barely a kiss, but Brittany's body hummed with an energy unlike anything she'd felt before.

Santana exhaled sharply through her nose before pressing into Brittany, the hand that didn't have the keys in them finding its way around her neck. Brittany put her hands on Santana's waist, pulling her closer as their mouths opened against each other's, as Santana's tongue pushed into Brittany's mouth hungrily. Her stomach flipped at Santana's eagerness and she stepped forward, pressing them up against the wall next to the glass door of her apartment building.

Brittany greedily swallowed a moan that slipped from Santana's mouth and rocked her hips forward instinctively. She allowed herself to mentally step back for a second and enjoy the fact that this was actually happening before she lost herself again in Santana's embrace. She sucked Santana's bottom lip between hers, nipping it gently with her teeth.

The dull growl of an engine behind them brought Santana's hands to Brittany's chest, separating them gently but urgently. They were both breathing hard, chests rising and falling quickly. Brittany kept her hands on Santana's waist but looked over her shoulder at the car that turned the corner onto the street. She held her breath, almost expecting the car to pull over, for men with cameras and microphones to jump out and swarm them. But the car did not stop, and Brittany turned back towards Santana, a small smile on her face as she bit her bottom lip.

Her smile faltered when she saw Santana's face. It wasn't anger, but she was definitely upset. Not even upset, Brittany decided, but thoughtful. Introspection tinged with anxiety. Brittany removed her hands from Santana's waist and returned them to her pockets. The loss of contact made Santana look up from her daze.

"I - you should go," her eyes were soft, her brow furrowed slightly. Even as her words told her to leave, she raised a hand to Brittany's face, cupping her cheek and running a thumb over her cheekbone. Brittany nodded into her hand before taking it and lowering it between them. They lingered there for a moment until Brittany turned quickly, dropping Santana's hand and retreating down the front steps of her apartment building. She walked briskly down the street, managing to resist the urge to look back over her shoulder at the woman she was sure was already in the elevator by now.


"Where the fuck were you?" Donally threw his hands up in the air with the question. Brittany stood in front of his desk, looking at the floor like she was back in kindergarten being scolded for making a mess with her glue stick. Donally was pissed, but not pissed enough to get up out of the squishy office chair he was leaning back in. Brittany looked at his reddened face, reminding herself not to stare at the floor when she spoke.

"I didn't feel well. I went home."

"Of course you didn't fucking feel well, you just finished a fucking boxing match!" Donally snapped forward, his fists coming down on his desk. Brittany shrugged. "And don't tell me you went home, because your make-up artist called me and said you weren't answering the door."

Brittany's stomach dropped. Shit. "I meant to my mom's apartment. That home. Sorry, still call it home sometimes, even though I'm living in the lap of luxury in the place you gave me," Brittany rolled her eyes, back on the offensive after scrambling to fix her error.

Donally muttered angrily under his breath and Brittany waited for his next outburst. "Alright, whatever. But I swear to fucking God don't pull this shit again. The only reason you miss a party is if you're in a fucking coma. And even then..." he trailed off before waving his hand at her dismissively. "That's your cue to get out of here," Donally grunted.

Brittany didn't waste another second and moved towards the door. Glad to be out from under Donally's questions, she retreated to the back of the gym where Wes was waiting for her. He tossed her weighted gloves at her, which she caught against her chest. She winced but ignored the soreness her muscles ached with. She was used to practicing the day after a match, and at least today was one of the easier practices to stomach.

"So where were you last night?"

Brittany ignored him and sat down to wrap her hands with tape before she pulled her gloves on. She flexed her fingers and ignored the look she knew Wes was giving her. Finally she stood, flexing her taped fingers as she pulled her gloves on.

"Are you gonna help me get these on?" She finally looked at him, holding her hands out. He shook his head.

"Where were you?"

"I went h-"

"Bullshit," he cut over her. He stepped forward to help her get her gloves on fully. "C'mon, Brittany. You can pull this shit with Donally, because let's face it, he doesn't actually want to know." He paused. "I won't tell him, you know, and that should go without saying but I'll say it anyway." Brittany just rolled her eyes and didn't answer. Wes pouted, causing Brittany to laugh. Suddenly Wes' eyes went wide. "No...this doesn't have anything to do with that Lopez girl, does it?"

Her silence was enough of an answer for him. It was his turn to roll his eyes. He shook his head as they moved over to the thick punching bag hanging in the corner. "Britt, you gotta be careful with this one," Wes chided gently as he took his position behind the bag. "Her father's got no shortage of power and pull, and he's no 'friend of Dorothy's'."

"Well, she is," Brittany quipped, throwing a gloved hand over her mouth the second the words were out. Wes threw his head back in a sharp bark of laughter before he lunged forward and pushed her playfully in the shoulder.

"No way!"

Brittany swiped at him and he ducked back behind the bag. She told him about her evening in between rounds of punches - about Santana's singing, their drinks, and their more than friendly goodbye. She kept the details to herself, but managed to paint a decent picture, and Wes made a surprisingly good audience. Brittany realized she never had much to tell him - their conversations were usually kept to boxing or their respective families.

By the end of her training session Wes was asking her if she would take Santana's last name and if he could be her best man at the wedding. Brittany kicked out at him and told him to zip it before she took a real shot at him. Wes pursed his lips and mimed locking his mouth and throwing away the key. Brittany smiled despite herself and pulled her gloves off. It was getting dark outside and her stomach was growling.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" She asked as she gathered her things.

"Yeah. You can even come in a little late if you want," Wes wiggled his eyebrows and grinned as if this was the most generous offer she'd ever heard. Brittany raised her eyebrows in disbelief. "Yup, my treat," he continued. "Have a good night, lover girl!"

Brittany pulled her sweatshirt on and ignored the faces Wes made at her as she headed towards the door. She grinned to herself on her walk home, amused that her adult male boxing coach was secretly a bit of a 13 year old girl at heart.

/

Once showered and in fresh pajamas, Brittany poured herself a bowl of cereal and sat at the small table in her living room. She flipped open the newspaper that got delivered to her mailbox even though she hadn't subscribed to it. Brittany assumed whoever lived here before her never got it cancelled. When she thought about it, she realized she never asked Donally about who lived here before her. She assumed it had been another boxer because she doubted Donally picked up an apartment just for her, but when she thought about it some more, she decided she didn't want to know why the person was no longer living there. Whether they fell from his good graces or met some other fate, neither were her business.

Typically she made a beeline for the comics, but a headline caught her eye. "Mayor-Hopeful Betto Makes Friends In High Places" Brittany read under her breath as she scanned the article. It was more of a blurb than an actual news piece and was accompanied by a picture of Ricky shaking hands with Senator George Lopez. The article gave short bios of both men and noted that they've been getting a lot of face time with each other.

Brittany continued on to the comics but her mind lingered on Ricky. The more she dwelled on the man, the more she wanted out of their "little" arrangement. She had already raked in 55,000 dollars relatively quickly. Kait wasn't even in high school yet; half a hundred grand was a hell of a start for her college tuition. She also considered Wes and Donally. She hated lying to them; particularly to Wes, who always had her back. If she broke this thing with Betto off, she could tuck the two tainted matches away and move on, relieving some if not all of her guilt. They'd never have to know.

And of course, there was Santana. As if their relationship wasn't already complicated enough, Brittany didn't want to be "working" for Santana's boyfriend in any form. Especially not if she was going to attempt to kiss his girlfriend again. Brittany's heart jolted as she flashed back to the note on her bag in her locker after her last fight. The cash had been under the note...had Santana seen it? Brittany's mind raced but she soothed herself when she came to the conclusion that Santana had acted too calmly, (and intimately, she smirked) to have seen an envelope filled with cash. She stood up from the table and put her bowl in the sink before she headed to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

Exhausted from the day, Brittany flopped onto her bed and pulled the covers over herself. Her head hurt from thinking of all the tricky relationships she'd managed to create for herself in a relatively short period of time. She rubbed her eyes and groaned, suddenly annoyed with how quiet her apartment was.

I have time tomorrow morning to find his office and go talk to him, she thought. Brittany rolled over and tucked herself deeper in her blankets. She realized she had no idea on how to really contact Ricky otherwise - he had always found her. Her body and mind instantly relaxed with her newfound plan. She'd look his info up online at the library first thing in the morning, and then she'd go over and talk to him. She didn't let the nagging idea that the talking might be the difficult part settle into her mind.

Content with her plan, Brittany fluffed her pillows once before closing her eyes, easily letting sleep wash over her.


Betto's office was on the third floor of a building near city hall. It was a modest office building, newly built and brightly lit. Brittany took the elevator and stepped out into a small lobby with an empty receptionist's desk. She frowned and looked at the clock on the wall. It was almost 10 a.m., people should be in the office already. There was a jacket hanging on the back of the receptionist's chair and Brittany noticed the screen saver bouncing around lazily on the computer screen. It was oddly quiet, but Brittany attributed that to the fact that it was a small office. People were definitely here.

She walked past the reception area and down a short hallway where she spotted a closed door with "Ricardo Betto" embossed on a small plaque on the wall next to it. Brittany stood in front of the door debating if she should knock or just open it. She moved to grab the doorknob and just burst in, figuring it would give her the momentum to be stern and end things swiftly, but she heard voices and froze.

They were muted from behind the door and she leaned as close as she could to try and hear who it was.

"Oh...baby...uh...fuck!"

Brittany recoiled sharply, her face contorting in disgust. Was that really what she thought that was? She leaned back towards the door and listened to what were definitely the moans of people having sex. She turned and walked briskly back up the hall towards the lobby, shaking away the images of Ricky and Santana going at it on his desk. She passed the secretary's desk and pushed the elevator button repeatedly.

Wait. She turned back to the receptionist's empty chair and cursed under her breath as it hit her. The little sleazebag, Brittany thought darkly as she turned back to continue hitting the down arrow. Impatient and wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible, Brittany found the stairs. Really original, nailing your secretary, she continued seething as she reached the ground floor.

Across the main lobby Brittany spotted Santana about to get into an elevator. She nearly tripped over herself as she ran to where the woman was standing, not thinking about all the consequences that were attached to the action.

"Don't go up there," she blurted, the words flying past her lips before her brain could think of a better option.

Santana jumped. "Jesus, Brittany, what are you doing here?" Her eyebrows furrowed as she looked at Brittany, her soft brown eyes questioning. "And why shouldn't I…"

Brittany just shook her head, her heart pounding in her throat as she fumbled for words. Suddenly recognition dawned on Santana's face. Brittany felt her heart crumple as the saddest look she'd ever seen flitted across Santana's features. The look passed instantaneously, but Brittany was sure it'd been there. The woman pushed her hair back from her face before she spoke again, her expression neutral.

"The receptionist?"

Brittany opened her mouth to speak but found herself still mute. She closed her mouth and nodded.

"Yeah, I know about that little affair," Santana looked down before meeting Brittany's eyes again. "It bothered me at first, but if I'm going to be the wife of a politician, I figure I might as well get used to it."

Brittany found her voice again as the anger of a few minutes ago resurfaced. "You deserve better than that, you know," she spat hotly. Santana eyed her carefully but didn't respond. Brittany bit her bottom lip and tried to get herself to calm down before she said more things she shouldn't say.

"You still never answered my question of what you're doing here?" Santana asked slowly.

"I..."

Shit. Brittany floundered for words again. Having been caught up in her mission, catching Betto, and then intercepting Santana, she hadn't given any thought to an excuse for being here in the first place. Santana's eyes narrowed as she watched Brittany struggle.

"Whatever he's offering, it's not worth it."

"I could say the same to you," Brittany replied quietly before she could stop herself. Santana's eyes blazed with something Brittany didn't recognize, but she held the woman's gaze steadily. This time Santana opened her mouth to speak but closed it after a moment's hesitation. Brittany rubbed the back of her neck, taking the pause to shuffle her feet awkwardly.

"I'm sorry, that was totally out of line," she offered, looking up at Santana meekly. She pressed on when she saw Santana's features soften slightly. "Have dinner with me." It was a statement, not a question, and Brittany held her breath, wondering if boxing was finally messing up her head. It had definitely affected her filter, she decided.

"I can't," Santana sighed, looking around the lobby at the few people moving about. Brittany sensed the hint of disappointment in her voice and decided to push her luck.

"It's just dinner." She hoped she didn't sound as desperate as she felt.

"Just dinner?" Santana raised a skeptical eyebrow. Brittany laughed and held up her right hand.

"Just dinner. Promise."

Santana pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. "Alright," she agreed. "Just dinner."

Brittany's stomach swooped and she resisted the urge to pump her fist. Her stomach did another round of acrobatics as Santana pulled a pen from her purse and grabbed one of her hands. Brittany watched as she scrawled her number on her hand. When Santana pulled back, Brittany looked at her hand, making sure she could read the number.

"There," Santana smiled as she tucked the pen back in her bag.

Brittany imagined she looked like an idiot as a grin stretched her face. Santana turned to press the up arrow by the elevators again. Brittany's grin faltered as she cocked her head and pointed upwards in silent confusion. Santana just smiled wickedly as the elevator doors opened. She stepped in and turned to face Brittany.

"Don't worry, he's definitely finished by now. Call me later." Santana gave a little wave as the doors slid closed, leaving Brittany grinning wildly in the lobby.

/

Practice that day ended up being a bit of a nightmare. It had been a nightmare in the sense that Brittany got her butt kicked by the guy she was sparring with because her mind was back in her apartment, thinking about the phone number she had scribbled on every piece of paper she could find. She had been afraid she'd lose it if she wrote it down on just one sheet. Wes had snapped at her to focus after she took another blow to the gut. He didn't know about her interaction with Santana that morning (Brittany hadn't wanted to explain why she was in Betto's office), but knew enough about Brittany to know what, or who, was on her mind.

She had managed to make it out alive despite her distractions and now she sat on her couch holding her cheap plastic duck phone in her lap. She'd invest in a cell phone if their plans weren't so expensive and/or if they made cell phones in cool shapes like her duck-shaped land line. Brittany looked at the papers scattered around her, all of them with Santana's number written at least once. She picked one up and dialed it quickly, biting her lip as the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hey. It's later. Well, it's Brittany, and you said I should call you later. So, it's later." Wow, Brittany squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. She exhaled slowly when Santana laughed.

"It is later," she agreed.

"So...I was thinking we could get dinner tomorrow?"

Santana laughed again. Brittany swore she could listen to her laugh for the rest of her life, even if she didn't know what was so damn funny.

"You don't waste any time, do you?"

"Nope. Life is short!" Especially a boxer's, Brittany bit her tongue.

"Tomorrow sounds good. When and where?"

"How about 8?"

Santana said that'd work for her, and Brittany gave her the address of a small restaurant a couple of blocks from her building. It was a hole in the wall but she figured discretion was a plus in this case, and from what she could see through the window it looked nice enough.

She managed not to babble too much while giving Santana general directions to the restaurant and they hung up, Brittany flopping to the couch as she put the receiver down. She sat there for a while, a contented smile on her face as she thought about her date. Her date with Santana Lopez. All the worries and complications attached to the both of them seemed so far away and Brittany felt grateful, knowing that that probably wouldn't last.

She stood and stretched, wincing at the pain in her side from a particularly rough hit she received during practice. Too wound up to sleep, Brittany spent the next couple of hours tidying up her room and picking out different outfits. She ended up with an even bigger pile of clothes on the floor, but she held a nice green dress up in front of her. She laughed at herself as she recalled the fact that she had been wearing the dress the first time she made out with a woman at Wes' party.

Nothing like a good luck charm, she mused to herself as she hung the dress back up in her closet. Glancing at the clock on her nightstand she saw it had gotten pretty late. She stretched and yawned instinctively, groaning as another wave of pain stung her sides. Rubbing her stomach, she padded into the bathroom to brush her teeth before she fell into bed, happily replaying the day over in her mind as she drifted off to sleep.