It's late and way past my bed time. Was suppose to have this up yesterday. But, alas it's here. Thanks for the continued interest and all the story alerts and your priceless reviews! I'll keep writing, no doubt. Also, it's very late so feel free to point out any glaring typos.

Your parents are home tonight and you're not sure why. You don't care enough to ask for an explanation, but you know you want them gone. They have a knack for being way too overbearing even if they're not speaking or in the same room as you. You've self-exiled yourself, opting to spend the day holed up in your bedroom then to brave the murky waters of idle chit chat with the folks.

They're not bad people. At least you don't think they are. Sometimes you can't be too sure. They're snobs who raised a snob, who turned out to be a lesbian who fell in love with her best friend. But, they'll never know that. If they did, if they knew what you'd become they would ship you off to straight camp faster than anyone could say Lebanese. That's okay though. You've got one more year in this hell hole and then you're out. You're on a one way flight(or drive) to New York City with Brittany in the passenger seat and you're never coming back. Never looking back. Never, ever going to worry again about hiding who you are for the sake of their comfort.

You know you don't hate them, but you can't say that you love them either. Your family isn't tight like Brittany's. Yours is fluid and in it things bend. Like guidelines, like respect. Brittany would never speak to her parents the way you speak to yours. But, in the same breath, Brittany's parents would never neglect her the way yours does to you. This is not a sob story if anything you're grateful for it. They've made you who you are today. A tough as nails, take no shit from no one chick and your dad's wealth has done amazing things for not only your reputation, but for your cosmetic health as well. For that you're thankful. They are the most perfect roommates anyone could ever ask for. They go and you go and you talk but only when it's absolutely necessary. Hugs and kisses were replaced long ago with cash and credit cards and somewhere along the line your heart stopped breaking because of it.

Amazingly, in the middle of breaking away from your family you stumbled into another one. A weird, dysfunctional multi-ethnic, gay/straight hybrid one. One that two years ago you would've pissed yourself if someone would've said you belonged to. But, in your new family you've found solidarity and hope. You've found acceptance and strength. You were allowed to be yourself to such an extent that your heart was ripped apart and out of it tumbled your love for Brittany. You can't even fathom how to begin to say thank you for that.

Grabbing your car keys and cellphone you make your way down the stairs as quietly as possible. But, it doesn't make a difference. A note tacked onto the family bulletin board catches your eyes and you quickly devour the short message, "Gone to the Masons, be back around midnight. Love Mom and Dad."

You snort into the emptiness of the house. Your mother hates Gina Mason and your father thinks her husband is sleeping with his housekeeper. But, they are the creme de la creme of this slice of unimportant suburbia so close knits must be kept. Even if half of the night is spent whispering behind each others backs. You pause for a moment, before continuing out the door as you tally up your options. You could call Britt over now and get your cuddle on in the swimming pool for a couple hours. But, if you do that you're going to have to hurry and you've noticed lately that she hates being rushed. You could continue with plan A and go to her house and have some super sneaky silent sexy time in her bedroom and hope none of the eight billion people in her house interrupt. You can go to Quinn's and use her bedroom but then you would have to deal with Quinn and all her depressive ramblings and offensive looks and "You guys stop doing that on my bed!'

Before you know it you're out of the door and in your car, turning a usual ten minute drive to Britt's place into a record 4.5 minute trip. You shoot her a text and moments later she's running down the steps, blond hair bouncing in a messy ponytail. She's wearing lime green shorts, a polka dotted shirt and one of her flouncy matron hats. If that outfit had been on anyone else you would've found the heaviest object possible and chucked it at them. But, on Brittany it's...adorable. She dives into the car, slightly breathless. Sweat already built on her brow from the short trip in the Lima sun. She leans across the seat and places a quick kiss to your cheek, "I didn't think I was going to see you today."

Before you answer, you wrap your hand around her neck and pull her back in for a proper kiss. Your fingers tangle into blond hair and you nip at her bottom lip. She giggles into your mouth, murmurs she missed you. Her tongue darts out and you immediately catch it with a moan. She fists the bottom of your shirt as she pushes herself against you. Brittany's tongue has the faintest taste of root beer and she smells like she's been dancing around in her mother's aromatherapy room. Both of your hands have moved up to cup her face and you place three kisses to her lips before pulling away. Her eyes flutter open at the lost of contact. She's got a dreamy look about her. A small, delirious smile playing on her lips.

You let the pounding in your ears subside before trying to speak, "I missed you."

Her smile broadens, toothy and wide, "Good."

She turns around to face forward and buckles her seat belt. You remember that you have to stop staring at her to crank the car up, so you do, begrudgingly so. You turn up the air conditioner and she puts her face directly in front of the vent. She asks you wear you're taking her and you shrug your shoulders as you pull out of he driveway silently praying Mr. and Mrs. Pierce didn't see you sexually harassing their daughter.

You've forgotten what roads you've taken to get where you are. But, the cityscape's of Lima have been replaced with rows and rows of green pastures and farms. You know you can't be that far away from home, you know this, but you can't help but feel like you're in an entirely different world. Brittany's curled her fingers into yours over the armrest and she's humming along to the radio. You've been driving for a good hour and your legs have began to cramp. You pull over to the side and she's looks at you questioningly. You smile as you point toward a pasture, "Horses."

As she turns her head, her blue eyes glisten and her mouth pulls into a grin. She's out of the car before you are and she's running down the length of the old wooden gate that's wrapped around the field. You follow slowly behind her. She leans against the gate, mesmerized at the brown and white horse standing a mere four feet away from her. You bump her side as you near her. She doesn't take her eyes off the animal, "I love horses, 'Ana.

"I know." Is all you say as you let your eyes roam over the beast for a moment and then back over to the beauty that is Brittany. You study her face while she studies the horse. A tugging starts in the pit of your stomach as you silently watch her. You suddenly have the urge to touch her and talk to her and make sure she's perfectly content in the world. Because, at least one of you should be.

"Britt?" You start shyly. She must hear the apprehension in your voice because she finally takes her eyes off the horse and looks to you worriedly. She urges you on by grabbing your hand and pulling you down to a sitting position against the gate. You inwardly kick yourself because you know your voice has betrayed you and you can't just laugh off the fear she heard.

"Are you..." You trail off. Your heart begins to pound inside of you and your hands go all clammy. It's like your body is trying to remind you that you are not good at this. You inhale deeply and your voice cracks as you try again, "Are you...happy?"

She wasn't expecting that question. You can tell by the well she jerks her head back slightly. As if you've just asked the silliest, simplest question in the world. "Of course I'm happy, Santana. I love horses."

You shake your head, "That's not what I mean..." The setting summer sun ghosts over her arms making it look as if she's glowing. Like some weird kind of angel. You wonder if you look the same. You know you don't. You know Satan can't glow in the same way an angel does. "I mean, are you happy with us? With this?"

She doesn't answer right away like last time, but she does wrap her hand tighter around yours. "I love you." She says scooting in closer. You appreciate the warmth, but she's still not getting it. "But, are you happy with us?"

Brittany pulls away from you she's tired of the cryptic talk, "Why are you asking me this? "

You shrug your shoulders and it's the truth. You honestly don't know. You don't know why you're turning a perfectly nice afternoon with your sorta girlfriend into an awkward mess. Maybe it's got something to do with the deep seated need inside of you to fuck everything up. Your head drops as you begin to fiddle with your fingers, your heart hammering.

"I'm happy, Santana." She tries again. Like if she repeats the words you'll get it.

"Being who I am with Quinn and with Mercedes and even with Puck is easy...You force yourself to lift your head,straighten your shoulders and look her in the eyes, "They're not going to run from me. Or say they hate me. Or, I don't know..." Your voice trails off as the words from the article you read last night force themselves back into your mind. A 21-year-old college student left for dead in a sleepy town in Wyoming. A town not unlike your own.

Brittany rests her head against yours,"What are you thinking about?"

You don't want to tell her. You don't want to fill her with the fear that eats away at your courage. So instead you tell her, "I'm thinking about you. I'm thinking about how I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I'm thinking that yesterday they legalized marriage for us in New York..."

Your voice trails off as the next sentence gets caught in your throat. You force it out quietly, "I'm thinking that one day, I want to marry you." Brittany's eyes widen and she blushes. She nudges your nose with her own and plants a kiss that lingers to your lips. "Really?"

You shake your head like a maniac, "Yeah. So, I just want to be sure you're happy now. So when we're ready, when I'm ready, I'll have you then. Because Britt? Being all out and gay in front of the Glee kids is nothing. They get it. But, I don't know if I'm ready to be me with you in this town."

A sad shadow falls across her face replacing the bliss that was there moments before, "Are you breaking up with me?"

"NO!" You don't mean to scream it at her, but she jumps anyway. You pull her impossibly close to you, "I'm just saying I'm not ready yet and I hope that you can understand because..." You stop short, you don't want to scare her. You side step it the best way you can, "Brittany there are people out there who are exactly the opposite of you."

She scrunches her face, "Black people? Because Santana, I don't know if you noticed but Mercedes is black and she and I are pratically the same person. Sure, I'm more talented, but she's still a pretty decent singer."

You laugh in spite of yourself and a sob gets caught inside of your throat, "No, Brittany, I mean people who aren't as...accepting...as you are. Who don't want other people to be happy because they're miserable. There are people at there who...who do bad things."

Brittany is silent for a moment. There's clarity in her eyes that leaves you breathless. "You mean people who'll hurt us because we love each other?" She doesn't give you a chance to respond as she continues, "Because those people don't matter to me, those people never cross my mind."

She's rendered you speechless and all you can do is curl yourself into her. She tangles her fingers into your hair and places a kiss to your forehead, "You matter to me. I'm way too busy thinking about you all the time to give them any thought."

You giggle as she stretches her legs out straight in front of you and shuffle so your back is leaning against her front. You're grateful no one has driven by because you're not so sure what they would think and more importantly you don't want anyone to ruin this moment. Then suddenly, something hits you, "Britt?"

She's been trailing kisses along your neck. She murmurs a muffled "Hmm?"

"You asked if I was breaking up with you?"

She nips at your skin, "And you said your weren't. No take backs." Her fingers have wormed their way under the hem of your skirt.

"Yeah, I know I did. But, does that mean...Are we together?"

She wraps her arms around your waist and rest her head in the hollow of your neck. "Together?"

You begin to fiddle with your fingertips as you shrug your shoulders noncommittally. A gesture unfitting to the way your pulse is beating inside of your throat. "Are you my girlfriend?"

You feel her face pull into a grin. "It's about time you asked."

Your fake ID says Brenda Clark and has a picture of a Caucasian woman in her late twenties. It's says that your birthday is December 69th and you were born in Puckzilla, Ohio. Your height is 7'2 and your weight is a whopping 244. Puckerman thought it was funny when he did it and because he got it for you for free you couldn't argue. (You did, but only a little.) Besides it's obvious defects it's never failed you. Not once. As long as you've got the cash or the proper plastic every door imaginable is opened for you in those Podunk town.

And right now your trusty ID lies on the nightstand of the Lima Inn. The only hotel in this entire city that doesn't have a severe case of bed bugs or junkies. Next to it, is yours and Britt's cellphone, both turned off, a bottle of Pinot Noir and Brittany's bra.

And right now you're trying really fucking hard.

You eyes are squeezed shut.

As you try, try, try to keep your grip on this world, but it's leaving you slowly. With every calculated press of nimble fingers to your clit. With every smooth swipe of tongue to the very top of your slit it's leaving you. Every worry, every question, every second guess trickling away like water through your fingers. Or more accurately, hers. The pressure inside of you is building and you know you won't be able to stave of your release for very much longer so you use every muscle in your body to push yourself up and wrap your hands around arms, pulling her up and on top of you.

You kiss her, your tongue licking at hers and the taste of you on her makes your already delirious body whimper on it's own accord. You flip her over and she pushes her thigh between yours and you bite back your orgasm. In one smooth motion you shed her of her underwear, the last piece of fabric between the two of you. She pushes her center against your stomach as you latch onto a nipple, your teeth pulling at the soft flesh. Your hands squeezing tightly onto both of her thighs, her muscles rippling. She's so wet you can smell her and she's leaving trails of herself against your abdomen. You slide your hands up her thighs to where her legs begin and rub small circles into her skin. Your so close to where she needs you to be but you wait to move any further. You move your mouth to her neck and you you lick up to her ear, sucking on her lobe. She moans and moans and moans and you know you should tell her to be quieter but the sounds she's making turns you on in a way you can't begin to explain. You dive back into her mouth, lick at her tongue, draw out the taste again and again. She takes the initiative and wraps her hand around one of yours and presses it against her clit. Your laugh is husky in her ear. She shivers a response. You smooth your palm against her and she cants her hips upward.

"Wrap you legs around me." Your voice is low and needy. She obeys immediately as she locks her legs tightly around your waist. You coat your hand in her fluids, rub circles against her clit. Out comes another whimper, another urgent grind against your hand. You spread her folds and gently urge a finger inside of her. It's slips in easily. She's so ready, she swallows it up to your knuckle. You slide in another and flex your fingers to the side. She pushes her head against the pillows as she murmurs how good it feels. You pull out your fingers and re-enter her with a third one for good measure. You set a slow pace, but she's still not going to last long. You feel the way her legs quake and her stomach tightens. Her breathing has turned to gasps as you slide your fingers in and out of her. She pulls your lips down to hers again. Kissing you deep and hard and as you thrust back inside of her, her body curves into yours and off the bed and she comes with a groan inside of your mouth. You rub her clit as she comes down, never breaking the clinch she has around your waist. You collapse onto her body. You use your position to an advantage to add another hickey to her already bruised neck. Her legs go slack around you and she rolls you back onto your back.

"I wasn't done with you." Her voice is breathless and you want to tell her to wait a second, but her head is between your legs before you can stop her and you're falling inside of yourself again.

When you come, you feel it throughout your entire body. It's like a burst of the smoothest lighting going off in every one of your limbs. You push yourself against her mouth as she moans and pulls you in closer. She takes her mouth off your clit and you fall back onto the bed with a groan as she licks your folds, biting slightly at your skin. You tug at her arms to urge her back up to you. Your lips connect in a slow kiss, that's all tongue and lust and love and you don't ever want to leave this bed.

You pull your lips away from hers and hold her face between your two hands. She smiles down at you her eyes a deep blue. She dips her head and kisses you again, sucking on your bottom lip. Your wrap yours arms around her neck and pull her flesh against your body, "I love you Brittany."