A/N:...This is sooo late. I'm SO sorry, I've been feeling like crap this week because of tryouts but now that I can walk up and down the stairs properly I've been able to get on the computer. Anyways, here it is. A little longer.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or it's characters.


Chapter 4: Trouble

Santana sits bolt upright in fright as chills leach down her spine. Memories of what had happened just over two weeks ago still terrorized her in her dreams. News of "the blast" had spread quickly across all major news outlets, including ones outside of New York.

"Sources have yet to identify the person who was at the center of this catastrophe, but some are worried this isn't the last New York will see of trouble." The anchor on TV droned on about news that had been a hot topic for days.

Just yesterday she had received a call from Mr. St. James telling her not to come in for the next week until a few things were 'sorted out.' Whatever the hell that meant, she wasn't one to complain about a break. Especially after what happened to her that afternoon of her first day.

Santana's head was throbbing like nobody's business. She could literally feel it pulsing if she put her hand up to it—and what was that godforsaken noise in her left ear? The ringing like alarm bells wouldn't stop torturing her left eardrum and her fingers felt like there were little paper cuts all over them. She peered down and saw the shards of glass littered across the floor that had cut up her fingers.

Why were there broken pieces of glass on the

"Hey! Are you okay?" A gruff voice interrupted through the destroyed window of her taxi cab.

"Yeah" She paused, her voice sounded so rough and scratchy. "Yeah, I'm fine." Maybe she'd spoken too soon because no less than two minutes later she was up and out of the taxi as the contents of her stomach came tumbling out on the sidewalk. She could hear herself retching in the dead silence and it was embarrassing. When her stomach had quit disagreeing with her she pulled out a tissue from her bag to wipe her mouth. Popping in a stick of gum and chewing, Santana turned to survey her surroundings. There wasn't major damage except for maybe every window for a few hundreds miles was completely blown out and their remnants littered the sidewalk and street down below.

There were a few people in the streets here and there that had been knocked out like she had.

She felt something warm trickle down her forehead and when she reached up to swipe at it her fingers came back coated with blood. Apparently the reason why her head had been swimming so violently was because she'd taken a major blow to it. Her stomach was still unsettled as she heaved again at the sight of so much blood. Going to the hospital was not an option because ever since she was a child, Santana had an irrational fear of doctors and the white walls of a hospital. Despite the fact that the halls always smelled like cleaning supplies they were harbors for disease. Besides flu shots and check ups Santana stayed out of the hospital as a child and her father would just simply tell her to suck it up when she'd fall and scratch herself up.

Somehow, by the grace of God she had made it back to the apartment that was surprisingly the least damaged out of all the places she had passed. Her bloodied face, once cleaned, was simply a small cut that followed her hairline but bled heavily. By the time Rachel's panicked voice came barreling through the front door and Mercedes came right behind her, Santana's eyes had closed and she had passed out on her bed.

From then until now Santana could only remember bits and pieces of what had happened as she slipped in and out of consciousness. She'd wake up and hear Rachel on the phone panicking and asking for someone called Brittany and then getting angry when no one would respond. Then her eyes would droop again and she'd pass out for a few more hours.

The next time she'd wake up with Mercedes rubbing a cold washcloth across her forehead and ridding it of dried blood. She would hear the loud sirens rushing past her building, more than likely headed to the site of "the blast" as everyone liked to refer to it as. Then she would pass out again after forcing down a bottle of water or two and only a few crackers to stay nourished.

It had been a few weeks since then and Santana still had a small headache but not half as bad as what it once was. Last night she had answered the door and found Rachel passed out and leaning against the door frame. Mercedes had woken up and rushed to the door at the sound of Santana's uncharacteristic squeal, holding a bat above her head and sporting a murderous look. When they tried to get Rachel to talk about what happened she was beyond incoherent, mumbling something about someone trying to take her stupid candles and how she was miraculously saved by 'the heroine' that had come out of the shadows. Bullshit, and Santana called her out on it but Rachel was persistent and refused to believe what happened to her wasn't real. Then again, strange things were happening lately.

About as soon as Santana's eyes had opened from sleep and she had gone out into the living room to find Mercedes cooking pancakes and behaving normally like Manhattan hadn't just been attacked, Rachel was up and as lively as a jack rabbit. She was rushing and grabbing a bunch of crap, like extra blankets, water bottles, and socks.

"What the hell is she doing?" Santana was hoping Mercedes would know, but all she was given was a confused shrug.

"Where are you going, Broadway?" Santana griped as Rachel continued to flit from place to place, picking up random items and shoving them in a huge black duffle bag.

"If you must know Santana," Rachel paused, stopping to eye a few boxes of dots on the counter before she rested her arm behind them and swiped every last one into the duffle bag. "I'm going to see a man about a dog." Rachel continued, her eyes flicking everywhere but directly at Santana. Santana screwed her face up at that. Rachel was a horrible liar.

"What?" Santana chalked up her confusion to the minor concussion she attained yesterday, but Rachel wasn't making a lick of sense.

"I have a few prior arrangements to...attend to. A friend that hasn't been feeling too well." She continues to count off lies and the horrible attempt at a nonchalant smile gives Rachel away.

Santana sighs, rubbing at her throbbing temples. "Look Rachel, if you're trying to sneak away for a bootycall with Finnoncence just say so. I mean, you don't have to sneak around." Mercedes cackles from the kitchen as she flips a pancake and Santana smirks. It was fun making fun of Rachel because she always reacted. She couldn't just ignore it like normal people would.

Rachel huffs indignantly, readjusting the strap of the duffle bag on her shoulder and opening her mouth to rebut Santana's insult but she closes it abruptly turning on her heel and heading for the door, leaving Santana completely shocked.

Rachel was out of the door before Mercedes could offer her a plate full of pancakes which Santana gladly accepted in Rachel's absence.


Brittany can hear the loud banging even before her eyes are fully opened. She jolts awake and immediately feels the stiffness that has overcome her body due to her passing out on the carpet the night before. A plush blanket—since when had that gotten there—is wrapped around her shoulders. Tina probably covered her up the night before, having gotten used to Brittany stumbling in at all hours of the night and passing out before she could get to bed.

Red and orange early morning rays filter in through the slits in Brittany's curtains. She lifts her head up and the impression from the rough carpet is left all along the left side of her face in red angry blotches. She has just enough time to get up on her feet before someone bangs through the front door. Brittany is startled when Rachel rushes into the living room and plops a big black duffle bag down on the worn cushions of her couch. Immediately Rachel starts rifling through it in search of something Brittany isn't sure of.

"Brittany," Rachel pauses and looks directly at her for the first time since she barged in. "I believe I know what you are." She stares at Brittany for a long time for dramatic affect then she shakes her head as she goes back to rifling through her bag.

"I'm Brittany." Brittany mumbles confusedly. Rachel just laughs and shakes her head again.

"No, Brittany not that. You have powers, therefore you're a superhero." Well duh, if the bolt of electricity that shot through Brittany's hand was any sign of that. Brittany rolled her eyes at Rachel's antics. She plopped down next to the bag on her couch.

"But I don't wanna be a superhero." Brittany states simply. Rachel stops shuffling through her bag and pulls out a big thick leather bound book with yellowing pages.

"May I ask why not?" Rachel flips open to the first page.

"Superheroes don't always get a happy ending. I'm just...Brittany." Brittany sighs. Rachel snaps her head up at Brittany's gloomy tone, different from her normally bubbly attitude.

"Don't say that. You don't know that." Rachel tries to reassure her as she skims over the worn article in her lap.

"I was perusing the news archives at the library," Rachel pauses, running her hands over the partially faded words in newsprint. "And I found something peculiar," she sits next to Brittany on the couch and sets the book down across both their laps.

"It's an article from a few decades ago. It documents the happenings of an event that are scary similar to what happened a few weeks ago. I tried looking for relating topics but kept coming up blank or with an access denied."

Brittany takes the book out of Rachel's lap to get a closer look. "So this isn't the first time something like this has happened?" Brittany questions Rachel hoping that she'll have all the answers.

"No, it most definitely is not. But...it's weird."

"Why is it weird?" Brittany asks distractedly as she starts digging through the black duffle bag and spots the yellow corner of a box of dots sticking out.

"Well..." Rachel pauses unsure if she wants to reveal what happened in fear that she might upset Brittany. "The guy—whatever his name was, he disappeared a few weeks after what went down." Rachel waits for Brittany's reaction.

Brittany tears open the box of dots, opening the bag and pushing a green thimble shaped candy through her pink lips. She waits expectantly for Rachel to continue but Rachel doesn't say anything else, instead she keeps staring at Brittany.

"What?" Brittany questions simply.

"Brittany! Did you not just hear what I said? This guy mysteriously disappeared, completely unexplained and undocumented." She flails her arms and she kind of reminds Brittany of a screeching bird. She knew there was a reason why she didn't really talk to Rachel all that much. She was always so loud.

"So, does that mean I can turn invincible?" She pops another candy into her mouth and begins chewing away.

"Invisible, Brittany—and no! I mean, what!?" Rachel frowns.

"Well, you said he disappeared and nobody knew what happened to him. Maybe it was just that nobody could see him. Somehow he turned himself off and couldn't figure out how to make himself visible again." Brittany tries to explain to Rachel. Rachel doesn't say anything, actually contemplating if what Brittany said was plausible, quickly ridding her mind of such thoughts and continuing to stare at Brittany with a perplexed look on her face.

"Yeah," Brittany nods. Rachel shakes her head and reaches for the remote on the coffee table, quickly flicking on the television and turning to the news.

"Listen, Brittany." Rachel leaves the TV going as she turns towards Brittany who was in the middle of placing the book back into the duffle bag. "I have no clue why you were out of the hospital and I don't know why you can summon energy from your hands but you need to stay low. Under the ra—"

"This just in." The news anchor speaking from the TV sounded frantic. "News of who was at the center of the blast just reached our studio." There was a pregnant pause as the anchor pressed his fingers up against his earpiece to better hear what he was being told. Rachel's eyes bugged out of her head.

"Street camera footage of an unidentified blonde female was sent to us from an anonymous source a few minutes ago." Just as he says this, a pixel riddled video feed plays across the screen and it shows Brittany struggling to keep hold of the rumbling box in her hands. Of course no one else knows it's Brittany besides Brittany and the people that personally know her because the footage is shot from an angle where you can't see her face, only her back and the box held out in front of her. It helps that the quality of the video is grainy.

"Apparently after the blast she was taken to an inner city hospital, Hope Medical Center. But get this...after nurses had come to check on her they found the bed empty and her change of clothes missing." Suddenly the picture on the screen began to flicker fading in and out of visibility. Rachel looked around frantically searching for what might be causing the power surge, not taking into consideration that her friend sitting right next to her was practically an open fuse. Brittany tried to stop the weird feeling that always built in her chest and spread to the tips of her fingers when she got nervous. Rachel shrieked and Brittany jumped, startled.

"What's wrong?" Brittany squeezed out as she struggled against the rising feeling. Brittany's eyes, they had an eerie glow—not overwhelming like a flashlight—but almost like someone had lit a match that burned blue behind her eyes and the flame was dying out. There was still a distinct difference between her pupils and her irides though. A small ring of sparks surrounded the outer ring of her pupils and it literally looked like her eyes were an open socket.

"Y—your eyes, Brittany. They're glowing." This was the first time Rachel had ever been short for words in her entire life.

Brittany rose from the couch, quickly walking to the bathroom and turning on the light, dimming it down low so it didn't destroy her were still a little sensitive from earlier. She gasped at what she saw in the mirror, but then she began smiling and laughing. She thought she looked badass. She closed her eyes shut tight and concentrated on getting the buzz feeling to go away and then she opened them again, the glow having disappeared.

She went back out into the living room with a cheshire grin on her face. Rachel was again left confused.

"Why, might I ask, are you grinning so?"

"Oh...nothing." Brittany kept smiling.


The magazine currently in Santana's hands fell from her grasp when she saw the woman in the footage holding onto the rattling box. She would know that outfit and lively golden hair from anywhere. It was the girl on the bike that had run into her cab door. She turned the volume up on the TV and listened intently.

"Apparently after the blast she was taken to an inner city hospital, Hope Medical Center—" Santana stopped listening there because that was the exact hospital Rachel had rambled on about when she'd woken up after falling through the door the night before. The exact same hospital where Rachel had been rescued by a mysterious heroine. The same damn hospital that had checked in the woman from the blast.

"Mercedes!" Santana yelled from the couch.

"What?" Mercedes yelled back as she opened her door and came out into the living room.

"Who was Rachel going to see yesterday?" She turned her head to look over the back of the couch at Mercedes.

"Um, some girl that lives in our apartment building actually, why?" She frowned at Santana's random question.

"Nothing..." Santana's eyebrows pulled together in thought, but then she was interrupted by the door opening and Rachel waltzing in.

"Hey." She greeted tiredly, shoving the strap of the duffle bag off her shoulder and letting it plop on the floor.

"Hey." Santana and Mercedes both said in unison.

"That was quick. Finn must have had some bad milk." Santana turned her nose up mocking Rachel's self-obsessed boyfriend.

Rachel frowned, confused at why Santana was talking about Fi—Oh! "Yeah he wasn't feeling too well." Rachel went along with it so that they wouldn't get suspicious.

"Gross," Santana turned back to the TV to flick through more channels.


Brittany had been flitting around her apartment for the past hour, looking for things to practice on. Old pillows, pieces of broken down cardboard boxes that she had yet to recycle, and other odd things lying around like the hideous desk lamp Rachel got her last Christmas. It was a tacky hot pink lamp with a forest green lamp shade. Apparently she'd gotten it from a mixer with the rest of her colleagues after a big show.

Brittany picked up the lamp, set it down on the kitchen counter and took a few steps back. First she shooed Lord Tubbington away and he ran to her room, then she rose her left arm, lifted her hand and waited for the feeling to come. In no time the tingling of cooled flames reached the tips of her fingers and she set her sights on the lamp, focusing in on it and aiming. She surged forward and the tingling in the tips of her fingers intensified to the point of exploding and the lamp shattered to a million tiny ugly pink and green pieces. Then immediately she swept her arm to the right and honed in on the stack of worn pillows resting helplessly in the center of her living room. One well placed bolt demolished the pillows and stray plush feathers fell from the ceiling and littered the floor. Brittany pulled her hand back and peered at her palm that looked completely unaffected.

She started laughing and she's sure if anyone were to walk in and see her grinning maniacally, surrounded by the mess of glass and raining feathers, they'd admit her.

The screen on her home phone lights up and the ring soon follows. She snatches it off the receiver, placing it in the crook of her neck to hold up to her ear while she takes graceful steps towards the kitchen.

"Hi! This is Brittany!" She greets cheerily and waits for whoever is on the other side of the line to talk.

"Hey, Brittany it's Sam. I wanted to check on you. I was going to come see you this morning but the woman at the front desk told me you had been discharged the night before."

"Yeah. The doctor said I was healing up really quick, so I could go home whenever I wanted." Brittany knows she sounds like she's lying but hopefully Sam wouldn't notice. It's strange though, if she remembered correctly—which she did—then she had left the hospital without being formally discharged. She had escaped in the middle of the night actually. Things were just progressively getting weirder.

"Well since you seem to be feeling better.." Sam trails off, sounding hesitant like he needed to get something off his chest.

"I was wondering if you wanted to go out for drinks with me and a couple friends at around eight." Brittany looks at the clock, seeing that it reads 4:30 PM. She doesn't really know what to say, she literally just got out of the hospital a few hours ago after having been blown up. On top of that she had these strange powers to deal with and keep hidden so that people wouldn't start getting suspicious.

"You know! To celebrate your fast recovery." Sam quickly adds, and when Brittany still doesn't say anything he continues, pleading down the phone for her to go.

"Please, Brittany. It's going to be so dry without you there to tear up the place." This goes on for about another three minutes until Brittany finally agrees to go. It's probably for the best that she keep her mind off things for a while.

When he hangs up, she sets the phone back on the receiver and heads to the cabinet, pulling out a tall glass and walking over to the sink. She turns on the tap and sets the glass underneath it. Brittany brings the tip of the glass to her lips but quickly lets it slip from her fingers and clatter to the floor when the water currently slithering down her throat feels like its frying her from the inside. She starts choking on her own spit and and can't breathe for all of a minute before she gasps in deeps breaths, clutching helplessly at the collar of her shirt.

She goes to the fridge to pull out one of the cold bottles of water that Rachel had brought over. They're all labeled with a bright red 'DISTILLED,' and the bottle she picks up has a small sticky note on it written in Rachel's curly scrawl. It read:

"Brittany. Don't drink from the tap, drink these. You can find them at the 7-11. If I'm correct, which I most definitely am, then you should be fine. Oh! Also, don't take a bath, only showers. Please sustain from damaging yourself."

—Love, Rach ;)

Brittany reads over the note one more time, peeling it off and sticking it to the fridge as a reminder. Then she unscrews the cap on the bottle of distilled water, bringing the tip to her pink lips and tilting it back so the icy liquid can flow down her throat. Rachel was right, it didn't feel half as bad as the glass of water from the tap did. Maybe like a small case of heartburn but not like she was going to choke and stop breathing.

Now, if she could just get out of these clothes and clean off without completely electrocuting herself.


Well, the shower had been...eventful. Brittany spent half the time worried if standing under the flowing droplets of water would kill her and when she decided to just throw herself under the stream all at once it was definitely a bad idea. The water felt like huge needles were prickling at her skin, but she could suffer through it for about 10 minutes—enough to lather up some soap and rinse off—before she had to get out and dry herself off.

The minute she had stepped out of the shower her knees buckled beneath her and she toppled to the floor, feeling completely drained all of a sudden. Not like the dehydrated lacking water kind of drained, but the bone tired lacking life kind of drained. Brittany could just barely wrap the towel around her body and crawl out into the hall. Using the wall as support, she shimmied up the side of it, leaning heavily onto it as she slid through the hall. She stumbled into her room, tripping over her own two feet and just barely catching herself by gripping the side of the TV. Suddenly a surge of energy rushed through Brittany's fingers and the electricity from the TV was flowing into her arm like she had absorbed all the stored energy from it.

The longer she held on the more alive she felt and slowly she was able to stand on her feet with some ounce of stability. Lord Tubbington sat curled up in a big ball of fur at the foot of her bed, swishing his tail from side to side curiously, eyes sharp and focused on Brittany.

"Hey, Tubbs. I'm not doing so good huh." She laughs at herself, slowly making her way towards her dresser where she pulls out a pair of tight dark wash jeans, and the small pin necklace she always has around her neck. Then she makes her way to her closet where she takes a low cut deep blue top off the hanger.

Brittany undoes her ponytail and runs her fingers through partially wet hair, loosening the tangles and letting it billow down around her shoulders. She peers at the gummy bear clock sitting on her bedside table, it reads 7:30 PM and she has about thirty minutes until she has to meet Sam and his friends for drinks. It's at a big club just a few minutes walk down the street.

Brittany tried to call Tina but she wasn't picking up. She thought maybe she'd stayed the night over at Mike's apartment and would be back tomorrow. Her and Tina shared an apartment together and Tina was usually out late like Brittany, so most of the time both of them weren't at the apartment.

She slips on a pair of black heels and says goodbye to Lord Tubbington as she picks up her leather coat off the back of the couch and heads for the door, closing and locking it after herself.

As she's heading down the stairs, Rachel's apartment door opens and out steps the beautiful brunette Brittany had just so happen to run into while delivering the package. The girl looks absolutely amazing in a simple pair of sweats and and a loose T-shirt that had 'Cheerio' written across the front. She must really like that honey cereal, Brittany thought. Once she comes off the last step, their eyes finally meet and swirling russet brown eyes clash with ineffable azure ones. Brittany smiles, stopping at the bottom step.

"Hey." Brittany barely whispers out, waving an awkward hand.

"Uh, hey." Santana responds, frowning at Brittany's strange behavior as she heads for the stairs, slipping the keys to her apartment into her sweatpants.

Santana is halfway down the stairs before she hears a small 'wait.' She stops at the very last step and turns around, an unimpressed hand resting on her hip.

"What's your name?" Brittany asks, cheeks flushed angry and red with embarrassment. She felt like the one kid that was always playing alone in the sandbox at recess. The tingling starts up again and her nerves only get worse. She has to clutch her fingers behind her back to keep them from shaking.

"Santana." Curt and simple. With that Santana is gone, disappearing around the corner into the night. A stupid grin spreads across Brittany's face as she familiarizes with Santana's name, rolling it around in her mouth and letting it come off her tongue.

"Santana." She sighs.


Brittany makes her way through the crowd and heads to the bar, quickly spotting a blonde head of shaggy hair that's definitely Sam's. She orders something to drink, not with the intention of drinking anything but in an attempt to occupy her time. Just as the bartender slides her a drink with an annoying green olive at the bottom—the olives always made her feel like she was going to swallow an eyeball—Sam spots her and waves her over. She heads further down the bar towards him and finally sees who all he invited. Mercedes, Rachel, Kurt, Blaine, the medic from the ambulance whose name she can't remember, Tina, and Mike. She smiles kindly, giving everyone a hug and Rachel a particularly long one for her sweet sticky note.

"Hey...?" She trails off, directing her greeting at the guy from the ambulance.

"David." He smiles and Brittany nods her head in recognition.

"Excuse us, me and my lady are going to dance." Mike interrupts, sweeping a slightly tipsy Tina from her stool and out onto the dance floor. Brittany smiles at how cute they are together.

"So, David here was just talking about how well you were doing when the ambulance came." Sam starts, Brittany cringes.

David pauses, a little stunned that Sam wanted to talk about potentially one of the more traumatic events in Brittany's life.

"Yeah, you were responding well and you didn't pass out...immediately. You did by the time the ambulance came though." David notes awkwardly. Brittany just nods, taking a stiff seat on the stool next to Rachel who has been glued to her phone the entire time.

"Although you did keep mumbling about an angel with nice legs and stilettos." David smirks, throwing a knowing look at Brittany. The rest just seem confused.

Sam turns back to the bar to order another drink.

"Brittany, girl, what happened to your arm?" Mercedes asks. Almost immediately Rachel's attention turns towards Brittany who is slowly looking over the purple bruises that litter the fair skin on her arm.

"I don't know." Brittany hadn't seen them earlier today, it's like they'd come from nowhere.

"Maybe I slept on it wrong." She knows she doesn't sound quite so sure. Rachel definitely notices because her eyes don't leave Brittany's fingers as they continue to trace over the bruises.

Unsure questioning browns eyes lock with confused blue until someone coughs, interrupting the moment.

"Excuse me miss," Some guy with oily slicked back hair and a bad five o' clock shadow leans between Rachel and Brittany, boring lecherous hazel eyes over Brittany's long legs.

"I noticed that you were all alone," He runs a meaty hand through greasy hair, wiping it off on his shirt when he realizes all the junk that comes back on his hand. Brittany sighs in disgust, frowning when he leans closer. She can see everything, like the wicked scar that ran the length of his face, starting from his eyebrow across his eye and down over his lips, ending just above his chin.

"And I wanted to know if you would grace me with a dance." He continues, eyeing what little he can see of Brittany since she was pretty covered up. Brittany hears the scrape of a chair behind her and no sooner than a few seconds does Sam come whizzing by and straight towards the creep who kept smiling at her.

"Hey back off!" Sam shouts, quickly getting in between Brittany and the man. The man raises his hands in surrender.

"Hey, I was just asking for a dance. Let the lady answer." He smiles, continuing to leer at her.

"I'm here with someone actually." Brittany lies, resting her hand on Rachel's thigh when the man frowns. Rachel's eyes bug out and Brittany tries to contain her smile.

"Brittany!" Rachel whisper shouts. "What are you doing?" Brittany's hand still rests on Rachel's thigh. She gets up and moves closer to Rachel, turning her back to the man and leaning down to whisper.

"Just trust me. Pretend that we're together so this guy'll leave me alone. Okay?" She pulls Rachel from the bar, slipping past Sam and the creep—who looks irrationally angry—and out into the crowd.

Once Brittany can't see the bar anymore, she turns to Rachel loosening her death like grip on her hand.

"That was awesome." Brittany says, smiling at the perplexed look on Rachel's face. She starts moving her hips, dancing to the heavy beat pounding through the speakers.

"Come on Rachel. Dance!" Brittany takes Rachel's hands, lifting them to her shoulders to let them rest there.

Eventually Rachel loosens up, at least she gets as loose as Rachel Berry can go, and starts swaying with Brittany, laughing when she messes up the dance that Brittany's trying to lead. Brittany just rolls her eyes and smiles.

"Come on, Rachel. I know you can do better than that." Brittany teases. Rachel huffs indignantly, smiling when she sees the evil glint in Brittany's eyes. Then her face turns serious again.

"I do hope that you realize this relationship can go no further then tonight." Rachel rattles off, stopping the dance to cross her arms defiantly. Brittany keeps dancing, moving around Rachel.

"What are you talking about?" She frowns.

"Yes, I know I'm a very desirable woman but I am also a taken woman." Brittany shakes her head as Rachel talks.

"Although I've had my fair share of sapphic relationships. Me and Finn are going steady." Rachel continues.

"Stop talking." Brittany stops to stand in front of Rachel, bringing her hands up to her crossed arms to pull them down.

"I don't want to date you Rachel. You're my friend...most of the time."

"Hey, what is that supposed to me-" Rachel cuts in.

"Besides," Brittany quickly continues "You're not my type." Brittany dismisses and slowly slips away.

Rachel thinks about it for a minute.

"Wait! I'm not your type? Then what is your type?!" Rachel yells after Brittany as she heads for the bar.

Hot Latinas in taxi cabs.


"Rach..." Brittany slurs, heavily leaning against Rachel who is struggling to keep her upright. "You know, you're kind of pretty." Brittany mumbles.

"Mercedes, can you get the door open?" Rachel grunts, struggling to help a drunk Brittany up to their apartment.

"I'm trying, practice some patience girl." Mercedes sasses back, rolling her eyes as she fumbles with the lock, the alcohol raging through her veins making things a little difficult.

Rachel seemed to be the only one that wasn't shit-faced.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry!" Rachel apologizes when Brittany slips from her hold and falls to the floor pretty hard.

Brittany doesn't even seem to care because she just wiggles around on the ground, laughing hysterically and clutching at her stomach.

"Rachel!" Brittany screams from the floor. "I can see up your skirt." She giggles childishly.

Mercedes finally gets the door open and Rachel scrapes Brittany off the pavement and haphazardly into the apartment.

"Mercedes, could you fetch her a glass of water and a bag of chips or something?" Mercedes just nods and disappears into the kitchen.

"Hello Kitty underwear." Brittany whispers, waggling her eyebrows at Rachel.

"Ugh, you're insufferable." Rachel admonishes, tugging Brittany into the bedroom to get her cleaned up and in some sleep clothes. They don't hear Santana come out of her room in search of what's causing all the noise.

"Why can't I go to my place?" Brittany pouts like a child. Watching Rachel ruffle through her drawers for clothes long enough to fit Brittany. She couldn't find any so she just settled for some shorts and a shirt that fit pretty loose on her. It would probably be tight on Brittany though.

"Because, I genuinely fear for your life when you get like this." Rachel shuts her drawer and tosses the clothes to Brittany who lets them bounce off her chest and hit the floor.

"And I don't want you to fall down the stairs and crack open your skull like an egg." Rachel continues. Blue eyes stare at the clothes dejectedly. Rachel stares at Brittany completely perplexed.

"Wait...what's the difference between an egg with a baby chicken inside of it and an egg with an egg in it?" Brittany asks innocently, struggling to pick up the clothes that fell.

"They're the same thing, Brittany." Rachel states knowingly, stepping out of the room so Brittany can change.

"That doesn't make sense." Brittany sighs.

She huffs frustratedly when she puts two legs in the same pant hole for the shorts. Santana slips into the room, looking for Rachel.

"What's with all the noise?" Santana grumbles sleepily, not noticing Brittany. In her drunken daze Brittany doesn't realize that who was currently speaking wasn't actually Rachel and when she lunges at the body, no shirt and all, Santana immediately stiffens at the soft porcelain skin currently all over her.

Brittany nuzzles her nose into Santana's hair, hugging who she thinks is Rachel super tight. "You smell...spicyyyy." Brittany slurs. "Like cinnamon—you're my little cinnamon stick." She sighs into Santana's neck.

"Thanks Rachel." Brittany continues, dozing off just a little on Santana. "I'm so drunk." She chuckles sleepily.

"Yeah, because I'm not Rachel!" Santana snaps and Brittany startles, tripping over her own two feet and falling to the carpet, rubbing the skin on her knees raw on the carpet. This almost completely sobers her up.

"I'm so sorry!" She apologizes profusely, an angry blush spreading down her neck and down her face. She tries to cover her naked torso up with the throw rug on the floor and Santana kind of feels sorry for being so harsh.

Santana doesn't miss the glimpse of Brittany's lean body though. She was like, wonder woman but blonde.

Rachel rushes in at the noise and Mercedes soon follows, carrying a bag of chips and one of those weird water bottles that Rachel had filled the duffle bag with.

"Oh goodness, Brittany are you okay." Rachel crouches down to help the blonde up on her feet and into a shirt.

So that was her name. Santana lets the tiniest of smiles grace her face. Brittany. Hm.

Mercedes sets the bag of chips and the bottle of water down on Rachel's dresser. Brittany soon face plants into the bed, mumbling something about being afraid Sam would swallow her whole with his huge lips.

"Eat this okay? Nurse that hangover before it actually comes." Rachel chastises Brittany who has already dropped off into dreamland. Rachel then turns and heads out of the room, shooing Mercedes along with her. "Love you!" Brittany yells out to Rachel.

Santana hangs back a little, curious as to why everyone seems to know this Brittany except her. She flicks the lamp light off and prepares to leave until long fingers wrap around her wrist. It's weird, but Santana literally feels sparks shoot up her arm at Brittany's touch.

"Stay." Brittany mumbles, her eyes still closed.

"I don't even know you." Santana frowns, unsure.

Brittany huffs, pouting. "My name is Brittany S. Pierce—not Britney Spears—I have a cat, Lord Tubbington, and I think you're crazy beautiful. Does that work?" Brittany's voice is clipped but Santana can't help but smile at the adorable pout on her face despite her eyes being closed.

Wait what?

Brittany pulls the covers back on the other side of the bed, patting the spot next to her. "I don't like sleeping by myself." Which was true, since when she was at her apartment she'd either be with Lord Tubbington or in Tina's room.

"Sure." Santana slips under the covers and Brittany pulls them back over the both of them. Santana scoots as far left away from Brittany as she can. Despite her consent to sleep with Brittany—not in that way—it was still awkward.

"Thank you." Brittany says sweetly, yawning and drifting off to sleep. Later into the night, Santana snakes her hand across the bed to connect with Brittany's fingers. A smile subconsciously spreads across both their faces.


Brittany jolts awake, shooting up in bed in a cold sweat. The red covers pool around her waist and Brittany shivers. Her temples throb and all of last night and her drunk charades come back to her. Filters of the morning light just before sunrise flood in through Rachel's blinds.

She peaks over at Santana who is still resting peacefully—thank goodness—her chest rising and falling soundlessly. She was surprised Santana actually agreed to stay with her, and was currently snuggled up underneath her. Brittany was certain Santana practically hated her before, which made her a sad panda. That familiar—annoying—buzzing came back, tingling like butterflies in her chest and fluttering down her arms the longer she stared at Santana. But this time the feeling settled in her stomach, with a nervous beat of butterfly wings.

Her black hair lay splayed across the pillow's like a curtain of silk. Brittany just wanted to run her fingers through it. Santana's mouth was slightly open, snoring softly but her eyebrows were furrowed in discontent. Brittany just wanted to kiss it away and before her mind could think about it her body was reacting for her.

Brittany leaned forward, twinkling blue eyes checking Santana's features for any disturbances. The buzzing had increased tenfold and she was literally shaking by the time she laid shuddering lips onto the warm skin on Santana's forehead. Almost immediately, the frown leaves Santana's face and Brittany leans back, slipping out from under the covers and taking a deep breath. She had literally stopped breathing. Her powers must be tied to her emotions...well that's not good.

Brittany turns away from the bed and stretches out her tired limbs. The flexing only makes her headache worse and she feels dizzy for a minute. She freezes when the bed sheets rustle.

"So now you're leaving me." Santana's raspy voice floats into Brittany's ears. The way she said it made it seem like they'd had sex and Brittany was trying to sneak away.

Oh dear jesus.

She immediately faces Santana.

"I don't even know you." Brittany smiles, repeating what Santana said last night.

"Hmm, lets see." Santana pauses, tapping her index finger against her chin in thought. "My name is Santana Lopez—not like the guitarist—I don't have any pets but I do have a little brother...oh, and apparently I'm crazy beautiful." Santana mocks Brittany, smiling and her dimple showing. Brittany was mesmerized by the little hole in Santana's face.

Brittany's ears heat up and she's sure Santana notices because she sees the subtle shaking of her shoulders.

"I-I was drunk." Brittany tries to explain.

"Mhm," Santana nods skeptically. The smell of pancakes waft into the room and Brittany's eyes immediately light up. Santana chuckles at the sudden change.

"Do you want pancakes?" Brittany asks, already half way out the door and before Santana can answer she's gone.

"Sure." Santana says to herself.

By the time Santana makes it to the kitchen. Brittany is already plopped down on a stool, chowing down on some of Mercedes' delicious flapjacks.

That sounded sexual. Santana chuckles to herself and blue eyes immediately zone in on her smiling face. Brittany looks like a chipmunk with her cheeks full of pancakes and a little syrup dripping down her chin.

"Do you need a bib, baby?" Santana mocks Brittany, smiling and pointing at her chin when Brittany looks confused. She grabs a plate for the pancakes.

Santana turns to Mercedes who plops two fresh pancakes onto her plate. She turns back to the island and sees Brittany frantically wiping at her chin, her cheeks a furious shade of red.

"You're cute." Santana says offhandedly, going to sit on the couch in the living room. Brittany just smiles, saying nothing.

Ugh, say something doofus. Brittany smacks her forehead.

Mercedes sends a curious glance over her shoulder, watching as Brittany not so subtly leers at Santana's swaying ass. She rolls her eyes and flips a few more pancakes for her and Rachel in case she wakes up.

"Ugh! You make the best pancakes." Brittany moans, devouring the last bite of fluffy cooked batter. The more food she got into her system, the less her head throbbed.

"You're like, Mama Odie from Princess and the Frog." Brittany says simply. Mercedes rolls her eyes and smiles.

"Brittany, giiirrl, how many times do I have to tell you that I don't make gumbo, and just because I'm black doesn't mean I sing about it either." Mercedes laughs and Brittany smiles, a glint in her eye that gave away that she was joking and knew what she was doing. Brittany wasn't as clueless as some people thought.

"Damn, I guess I'll have to look for another diva that can cook me some then." Brittany tests evilly.

"Oh hell to the no. You can't replace this." Mercedes shouts, spatula waving around in the air. Brittany gets out of her seat and attacks Mercedes with a hug.

"You're my favorite little tater tot." She squeezes Mercedes harder. "I can't replace you." She lays on the sugar.

"Get off me." Mercedes laughs, whacking Brittany with the spatula.

"Good morning, Hobbit." Santana greets from her place on the couch.

"Why thank you, Santana." Rachel says dryly.

"My pleasure." Santana retorts around a mouthful of pancakes.

"Brittany can you and Mercedes head out a little later to go grocery shopping? I have a workshop that I need to do this afternoon and I can't go." Rachel turns to Brittany and Mercedes.

"Sure." Brittany agrees, even though she doesn't live here permanently, most of her time was spent eating up their food in their apartment so it was only fair.

"Nope. Can't." Mercedes says apologetically.

"I can go." Santana offers shyly from the couch. Brittany immediately looks over at Santana, their eyes locking. She tries to contain her smile.

The tips of her fingers start buzzing and only when Rachel snatches them up to hide behind Brittany's back does she realize they were sparkling with blue energy. Maybe the whole powers being tied to her emotions wasn't a very good thing. Mercedes and Santana were none the wiser to what just happened.

"Okay, well then get dressed Brittany and I'll give you guys the list. Perfectly arranged alphabetically in order of their food groups I might add." Rachel shrugs.

A few minutes later Santana and Brittany are both dressed and ready to go. Brittany in a pair of Rachel's grey sweats and a loose worn top that had 'Aerosmith' written across it. Santana in a pair of tight dark wash skinny jeans that hugged her hips and a simple sweater.

Rachel handed Brittany the list as she was pulling her blonde hair back into a messy ponytail.

"Don't take too long." Rachel said as Santana and Brittany left.

Once outside, Santana immediately pulled her keys out for her car but Brittany rested a steady hand across Santana's.

"We can just take the metrobus. It's easier." Brittany shrugged and Santana followed after her towards the bus stop. Speaking of transportation, Brittany needed to get a new bike. Mr. Wally had given her like a week off after the accident and she was bored out of her mind.


"Let's split up." Santana said, slipping the list out of Brittany's hand and reading over it. Santana tried to ignore the tingle that shot down her arm when their fingers brushed. Brittany was focusing on the weird looks almost everyone was sending their way. She knew they were hot but damn.

"You take snacks and fruit, I'll take meat, bread, and seasoning." Santana rattles off the list. Brittany just nods absentmindedly. Splitting up with Santana and immediately heading to the fruit section.

Brittany was picking up a few apples and turning them over to look for bruises when she felt someone's eyes on her. She looked up, locking eyes with the cashier that always creeped about by the birthday balloons waiting for someone—anyone—to ask them to blow up something. She frowned, scanning her eyes to the left and locking eyes with someone else looking at her curiously. An old lady that had her miniature chihuahua pulled up to her chest as she shopped. Gross.

Brittany—substantially creeped out—shoved a few apples, oranges, and pears into some bags not caring if they were beat up or not and rushed off to quickly get snacks. Turning onto aisle Brittany spotted Santana down at the end of the aisle, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as she held the box of cookies up close to her face. She looked like she was reading the nutrition facts. Brittany smiled, turning to look at the row of chips but glancing at Santana every once in a while. She was so beautiful.

Crazy Beautiful.

Their eyes locked when Brittany looked up from the chips again, blue eyes widened momentarily when Santana frowned. But she smiled when that frown turned into a shy smile as Santana turned back to looking at the nutrition facts, tucking a raven lock of hair behind her ear nervously. Brittany smiled happily, moving down the aisle swiftly, sweeping her hands across the rows as she continued to eye Santana.

As she got close enough for Santana to finally notice, Brittany winked, a twitch of her eye that had Santana melting inside. But Brittany's smile soon turned to a frown when she caught sight of the newspaper sitting in the racks at the front of the store. She moved closer, snatching the newspaper out of the holder when she saw the headline written across the top in big black letters.

SECRET TERRORIST PLOT?

That was the title plastered over a picture of her leaving—which she wasn't aware had been taken—BioTech a few weeks earlier...just before the blast. She could see her face as clear as day and completely visible. Her fingers were itching like crazy. There was a little excerpt beneath it:

Brittany S. Pierce—25 years old—has been placed under government surveillance within the past 48 hours for rumored involvement with the plotted attack on the Pentagon's intel systems a few weeks ago. Systems went offline for an undisclosed amount of time just after the blast. She is considered a serious threat and a spy. Report sightings on the spot.

After mouthing the words over again Brittany heard a commotion just to her left. Men in black suites and opaque black shades barged through the front doors. They needed to leave—now.

Brittany snuck back across to Santana, snatching up her hand and pulling them to the back of the grocery store. "What the hell, Brittany?" Santana yelled indignantly. Brittany had long since dropped her shopping cart full of fruit.

"Where are we going?" Santana stumbled when Brittany sped up after someone yelled after them to stop.

"There are bad guys." Brittany responded vaguely, gripping Santana's fingers tighter at the sight of the men closing in on them. She was focusing on not getting thrown in jail for the rest of her life. Or worse. Santana scoffed.

"Oh, okay." Santana said dryly, rolling her eyes at Brittany's antics. They brushed through the plastic flaps separating the freezer in the back from the rest of the grocery store. Brittany pulled them into a corner, pressing Santana further into the space when the the men sped past. The energy surging through her veins forced it's way down her spine. She had to hide her hands behind her back to keep Santana from seeing them glowing.

"What is going on? Brittany, you can tell me." Santana pleaded with worried eyes.

"I-I'm in some trouble." Her voice shook.

And then the power went out, shielding them in darkness.

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