AN: Hey guys! So so so sorry for the long time to update again! :( It's been a busy week, but, here we go- hope you enjoy it! :)

"Tina! Hurry up with the popcorn! The show starts in," Kurt checked his 'fashionable mens watch', "Three and a half minutes!"

"Kurt, hold up," Brittany turned to the boy on Sam's couch, "I'm still a little confused as to why you came? I mean, don't you hate Dead Sight?"

"I never said hate. Just dislike. The only thing bringing me here is to see my future husband; Shane Lucas."

"Who?"

Kurt looked at her as if she had just asked who Barrack Obama was, "Shane Lucas? Haven't you ever seen Blood Diaries or First Dates?" he inquired, as Tina and Sam returned from the kitchen holding a big bowl of popcorn and milkshakes.

"First Dates? That's a comedy, right?" She clarified, Kurt nodded, "Then yeah, I think I've seen that."

"Ok. Shane plays that guy Roger. He is the most handsomest thing on this planet- besides Channing Tatum. And, he got cast as Garrett Friedman, and he's the main character, right?"

"Ooh, it's on y'all!" Artie fist pumped his hand in the air, and the room fell silent as the television show started. Brittany could almost recite every word, and she knew what was going to happen next by heart- she had read the books about a hundred times. The same book Santana is reading... her book.
Today at school had gone by... disappointingly. She arrived at the school, to find some kind of fight of the century going on inside of Figgins office between the principal, Coach Sue and Mr. Schue. By lunch, every single ex-Cheerio was back in their uniform. She was going to ask Santana if that meant their tutoring was off, but she was answered by a slushy and a laugh. That lunch she had been slushied more than she had in a single day- ever. Six times. All in all, it had been a bad day.

After the premier episode wrapped, and Sam jumped up, flicking on the light,
"That was epic!" He exclaimed, giving everyone a high five.

"Yeah, I was surprised with how well they stuck to the storyline- usually when a book goes into TV they mess it up." Tina remarked, returning the high five to the blonde boy. Brittany nodded her agreement. It had stuck to the plot well. The only thing she could really complain about was the casting for a couple characters; like Carly, in the book she was tan and had dark hair- actually, she looked a bit like a certain Latina at her school... in the show, they had made her a red-head.

"Alright, who's all staying over?" Sam asked. Tina shrugged, Artie nodded and said he could, Kurt shook his head no,

"I can't," Brittany frowned, "My parents said I have to be home- we have a thing tomorrow. I need to go shopping for my little brothers birthday."

"Oh." Sam looked disappointed briefly, but then turned his attention to Tina and began discussing whether or not she could stay the night.

"Kurt, do you think you could drive me home?" She asked, Kurt nodded happily, "Of course!" He waved his hand in dismissal, "I'm planning to head out at about eleven, though. Is that too late?"
Brittany shook her head, "Nah. I'll just text my mom to make sure it's ok."

"So Britt, I meant to ask you," Kurt said as they got into the car, and he plugged in his seatbelt, "Since the Cheerios are all back in order, do you still have to tutor Santana?"

Brittany shrugged, "I really don't know. I tried asking today and got a slushy facial as an answer."

"Ooh..." Kurt cringed, "I'd take that as a no then."
The two fell into silence for nearly ten minutes, it was only broken by two cop cars speeding past them, sirens on.

"What do you think is going on?" Kurt asked curiously, slowing down a little bit. She shrugged, "I don't know, it's Friday night, some stupid party, I bet."

Kurt snorted, "That's right... I heard Noah talking about a party at David's tonight during English class today."

"Doesn't surprise me..." She sighed. All the popular kids partied nearly every other weekend- part of her wondered how they could do it, get drunk and high and stay up till four every other weekend. Hell, if she stayed up till one sober she would have to sleep until two the next afternoon just to feel a bit less fuzzy and stupid.
The car rounded a corner, and Brittany immediately spotted a figure on the side of the road wobbling around and hanging onto a lamp post for support.

"Yupp." She remarked as they drove past the highschool aged boy, "Definitely a party."

"Kind of early to be party ditching, don't you think?" Kurt asked, "I mean, it's only twenty after eleven. Don't those things go until three or something?"

"Must be some party..." She murmurred, striving to get another peek at the guy by craning her head around to look out the back window, although it was no use.

The drove for another two minutes, before they spotted another wobbly figure, "Oh hey look," Kurt said, "Another one." He pointed at the dark figure. Brittany giggled, and tried to recognize the shadowy person. But once they drove closer, it became easier as Kurt's headlights lit the street, and the figure.

"Whoa, Kurt slow down," Brittany stated rather than asked, leering at the person in curiosity.

"Britt, I'm doing sixty- we'll be ok."

"No, Kurt- slow down!" She said with more urgency, and Kurt hesitantly slowed his vehicle.

"That's Santana." She said, a little bit to herself.

"No surprise there." Kurt muttered.

"Kurt, pull over, I think she's walking home."

"What? Britt, no way, I'm not giving that witch a ride."

"Kurt! She lives in Lima Plateau, she can't walk all the way there!"

"Well I am not driving another fifteen minutes out of my way for someone who's only ever been rude to me and my friends!"

Brittany bit her tongue- with every passing second Kurt drove farther away from Santana. Also, truthfully, she knew she shouldn't even be wanting to help the girl- she had every right to be pissed right off at Santana. She had been warm as a blanket and then cold as ice to Brittany at her house, and then treated to a red slushy facial while being laughed at right in her face. Yet she still really wanted to help Santana.
Stupid crush.

"Then drive her to my house!" She insisted. That made Kurt nearly hit the brakes in shock.

"Britt, sometimes I think you're too kind! You shouldn't help Santana, Santana has never done anything to deserve your help!"

"Kurt, please. I don't want her walking home, not when she's that drunk." Kurt looked as though he had strarted to think it over, "After all," She continued, "if I were in her position, I would want someone to help me."

Kurt shook his head, and rolled to a steady halt in the nearest parking spot, "Fine- go fetch her! But if she throws up in my car, I don't care- I will throw her onto the streets while I'm still driving, understand?"

"Understood!" She answered, already closing the car door. The wind outside carried a bit of a chill, and Brittany hugged her arms in attempt to warm herself as she strode down the pathway in front of all the closed stores. It was a bit creepy actually.

"Santana?" She said as she approached the teetering girl- she had an abrupt silly fear that it wasn't Santana. Or what if Santana was some kind of axe murder or zombie?

"Brittany?" The drunken girl kind of hiccoughed; it was definitely Santana.

"You walking home?" She tried to ask gently as she tried to get a look at Santana's face; the girl kept on sniffing, like she was crying.

"Yeah," She rubbed her face, "Yeah, I am."

"You want a ride?" She inquired, still trying to get a good look at Santana's features. But the dark was hiding them, besides the slight light from the streetlamp that was bouncing off her hair and outlining the side of her face.
The Latina fell unusually quiet.
And then broke into sobs, she took Brittany and hugged her so tight it was a difficulty to breathe while she gurgled something through her tears that sounded just like 'yes, yes, yes' repeated over and over.

"Ok," Brittany squirmed out of Santana's grasp and steadied her by awkwardly holding her shoulders, while the other girl cried uncontrollably into her.

"Uhm..." She said as they slowly made her way back to Kurt's car, "So how come you're leaving Karofsky's party so early, anyways?"
The response was hard to distinguish, but Brittany collected enough to piece together what she was trying to tell her with the tidbits she did manage to hear ('Puckerman', 'stupid thing', 'cops', 'for sure.').

Brittany opened the back door to Kurt's car, and carefully lead Santana into the seat and handed her the seatbelt before climbing back into the passenger seat.

"Britt, what's happening?" Kurt asked, obviously horrfied with the scene of sobbing Santana Lopez as he re-started his car.
She shrugged, "I just think she's one of those hysterical drunks."

"...I see. So, does she know that she's going to your house?"

With that, Brittany swiveled around in her seat, "Hey, Santana?" She said softly. The girl looked up at her with puffy, tear filled eyes. She went on, "Kurt doesn't want to have to drive all the way up to the Plateau- he has a curfew, so he's going to drive you to my place, and you could stay there, alright?"
Santana nodded and began to sob again, as she continued to repeat, "It's ok, it's ok!"

"Ok then..." She drawled, turning back to Kurt, who still looked slightly terrified.

Kurt pulled into her driveway, and Santana had passed out in the backseat.
"Alright... best of luck." Kurt gestured back at Santana, Brittany just nodded and rolled her eyes.
She opened the passenger side door, walked back, and opened up the back door.

"Santana..." She tried, weakly shaking Santana. The Latina opened her eyes and cringed back; like she were expecting some kind of blow. But then she just mumbled something incoherent before attempting to stand up and get out of the car. After the failed attempt, Brittany took Santana's arm and helped heave her up.

Brittany opened the front door, hushing Santana because she had started to cry over something.
Still holding Santana's arm, she lead the girl inside. In the living room, Garrett looked over the couch, concern etched in all his features.

"Brittany?" He asked, "Where have you been?"

"Sam's." She continued to lead Santana towards the staircase, but the girls violent wobbling was concerning her ability to even be able to climb the stairs.

"Sam's." He echoed in disbelief, "You've been drinking at Mr. and Mrs. Evans'?"

Her eyebrows hit her hairline, "What? No! No. She wasn't there," She jutted her thumb at Santana, "She was... somewhere. The Karofskys' I think."

"Uh-huh. And who is she, exactly?"

Brittany spoke to Santana quietly before answering Garrett, "Ok, just go to my room, ok? You remember where it is?" Santana nodded, hiccoughing as she tried to stiffle her sobs.
The Latina began to climb the staircase.

"That's Santana," Brittany finally answered, "I tutor her. Me and Kurt just saw her walking home when he was driving me back here. He didn't want to drive all the way up to Lima Plateau, so I said she could crash here. I promise I didn't drink at all." She said quickly but firmly, as she looked over her shoulder at the Latina who was swaying as she escalated up the stairs.

"Don't fall!" She called softly.

Garrett furrowed his brow; he was a nice guy. But he was a little bit over protective sometimes, that's all.

"Ok..." He said, "I believe you. You did the right thing. But... why is she..."

"Crying?"

"Yes."

"I just think that's how she gets when she's drunk. I mean, she started sobbing because there was only one tulip in the garden."

"Oh. Alright, go get her some wate-" Garrett was cut off by a thud as Santana slipped on the top of the stairs and fell down. The Latina curled up and began to whimper into the carpet of the stairs. Brittany bit her lip, struggling to contain her giggles.

"I'll get her cleaned up and in bed, don't worry." She promised, heading up the stairs.

Brittany went over to Santana, "You're ok," She sighed, taking her arm once again, "Just, get up, I'll get you cleaned up and stuff." Santana sobbed and nodded, allowing Brittany to hoist her onto her feet. She brought Santana into her room, glad that she had been too lazy to return her room to its normal state since the Latina had been over for tutoring.
This is so weird! She thought as she helped Santana down on the bed.
"Do you feel sick?" She gently touched Santana's arm, "Because the bathroom is right over there," She pointed to the door attatched to her room. Santana shook her head.
"No? Ok, that's good. Uhh..." Brittany looked around her room, unsure of what to do next, "Why don't we... uhh... Find you some comfy clothes to sleep in?" She got up and crossed the room to her dresser, opened her pyjama drawer and found the pair of plaid winter pyjama pants that were too bog for her, and then the baggiest shirt she could find. Hopefully these would fit the girl...
Closing the drawer, she went back to the bed and handed the clothes to Santana, "Here. Try these on in the bathroom, I'll be out here. Just... Just tell me if they don't fit, ok? And we'll try to find something that does."
Santana nodded, and began to speak through her hiccoughed sobs, "Thank you. I don't understand why you are so nice to me, when all I've ever been is..." The girl broke off into a couple of violent sobs before going on,

"Is crap to you! And yet you're still so kind to me and you keep helping me, when I've never done anything for you!"

Awkwardly, Brittany placed a hand on Santana's shoulder and tried to console the girl,
"Uh... It's ok, really. It's fine. Shh... You don't need to cry."

"It's not ok though! I shouldn't have done half the things I've don-"

"Shh! Santana, I forgive you!" Honestly, she didn't know if she did. She was just trying to get her to quiet down, because she had nearlty begun shouting.

"You... You forgve me? Why?" Santana inquired, she seemed completely taken aback, as she had become somewhat silent as her sobs quieted.

"Because everyone deserves a second chance. Now, you go change, ok?" She insisted, pulling Santana to her feet once again, and leading her to the bathroom.

"Careful!" She warned, still keeping her voice low, as the Latina nearly teetered over and fell onto the floor.

"Ok. I'll be out here, try not to fall, take it easy, and if they don't fit, tell me." She instructed, nudging the other girl lightly into the bathroom. Santana nodded, a little dumbstruck from her intoxication level. Brittany pushed the door shut so that everything could be blocked as Santana changed, but not fully shut so that it could be pushed open.
After a few moments silence, Santana whined something from inside.

"What?" Brittany asked, moving closer to the door. Santana repeated herself, but Brittany only caught bits of what she was tring to say; 'I can't' and 'off'.

"Santana, I can't hear you- is it ok if I come in?"

"Yes."

Reluctantly, Brittany pushed open the door, to reveal Santana standing in the bathroom, leaning against the counter crying quietly.

"I can't get the back undone," She whined, turning her back towards Brittany. Santana was wearing a top with a zipper on the back, that hugged her little frame nicely.
What am I thinking?
Brittany shook her head, as though she could possibly shaker her peculiar thoughts from her head and get herself to focus.

"Oh, yeah, ok, I can help you with that..." Brittany pushed up her glasses, and tensely began to undo the zipper on the back of Santana's shirt.

"I'm sorry I slushied you today." The Latina murmured almost inaudibly. It was actually a bit of a choking sound.

"Oh... Don't worry about it. Like I said, I forgive you." Brittany bit her lip stiffly, as she struggled to pull the zipper down.

"I still don't get why?" Santana sobbed weakly. Brittany sighed, exasperrated with weepy drunk Santana, "Just don't question it, ok?" She said as she finished undoing Santana's top.

"Turn around," Brittany groaned a little bit as she saw Santana's belt, "I have a feeling you won't be able to undo that either."

Santana turned around and faced her without arguing further. Brittany fumbled with the belt, and that's when the thought (Or maybe the reality?) struck her, and she blushed passionately; she was undressing Santana Lopez. Her crush. The best looking girl at the school. She was undressing her.
She finished in a hurry, taken aback by her own thoughts.

"Ok! You should be able to handle it from there!" She began to back out of the bathroom, "I'll be in my room, don't fall over!" She nearly tumbled over her words.

"But," Santana interjected, her tears finally drying, and Brittany could see a small, but still visible blush on the girls cheeks, "My bra clasp..."

Brittany's jaw dropped so low she swore it would have hit the ground if she hadn't caught herself.

"You... You can't undo it yourself?" She croaked,

Santana shook her head. And began to cry again, "I'm useless!" She all but wailed.

"Ok! Ok! Shh!" Brittany said frantically, rushing forward again, "Just shut up, will you? My little brother and parents are asleep!"

Santana stiffled her cries as Brittany moved behind her, "'K, Santana, go like this;" Brittany made an 'x' with her arms over her chest, "I don't want to see all... that." Brittany gestured to the Latina's breasts. Santana nodded and made the 'x' position over her chest.

Brittany began to fiddle with the back of the lacy black bra, and found herself having to restrain from touching Santana anywhere else. Her skin just looked so smooth, so touchable, so loveable.
Stop that!
But that stupid clasp wouldn't come undone. Growing ever more frustrated as her temptation grew; Brittany found an excuse to touch Santana on her rib cage, so she could rest her hand there while she attempted to undo the clasp. The warmth from Santana's skin was relieving- too bad she only felt it for a second; Santana cringed away with a bit of a squeal.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Brittany apologized quickly, "I didn't mean- I just... I needed some support while I tried to..." Brittany rubbed her temples, "Oh, God, I'm sorry- I didn't mean to..."

Santana stared at her with an odd expression; it was... calculation, for lack of a better explanation- with her arms still in an 'x' position.

"It's not that..." The Latina said quietly, before she apologized herself, "It's just... You pressed my bruise. I'm sorry."

"Oh..." Brittany felt a wash of relief come over herself, "My bad- I didn't even see the bruise. Do you still want me to undo your bra?" Santana nodded and shuffled back over to Brittany. She was surprised she hadn't noticed the healing brown bruise on Santana's ribcage before.
She didn't bother resting her hand for support anywhere else; afraid that she'd rest it on another bruise somewhere else.

"Did you... Did you get it in Cheerios?" Brittany tried to break the newly formed tension.

Santana nodded, tears welling into her eyes again, "Yeah... I fell off the pyramid. Coach Sue works us so hard," Santana sobbed lightly.

Biting her lip as she continued to fight with the clasp Brittany said, "Well, she's Sue. She hates everyone. Don't take it personally." She finally undid the clasp, and then backed away.

"Ok, you're good now, right?" She made sure, still backing out of the bathroom.

Santana nodded as she wiped her eyes on her arm, "Yeah." She ghosted a smile, "You're really bad at that, though."

"At what?" Brittany inquired in alarm. Had she been that obvious with her crush? Oh no, oh no, oh no!

Santana shook her head, "Nevermind. Just... you're bad at undoing bra's."

Brittany gaped and then closed the bathroom door again. She could already tell the other girls drunkeness was starting to wear off, and she'd be crashing soon.

Santana made it out of the bathroom in one piece, but her body was still teetering a lot as Brittany lead her towards the spare bedroom, but it was the intoxication causing her to teeter- mixed with the fact the Latina was nearly falling asleep on her feet.
By the time Brittany brought her to the other bedroom, and she tucked herself in, she couldn't even ask if she needed anything else the girl was dead asleep so quickly. Thinking about the morning, Brittany found a tub for soaking feet in the nearest bathroom and placed it near the bed, so that when Santana was hurling from her hangover, she would have something to hurl into.
She felt obligated to stay with Santana for a while, and make sure everything was alright with her. You know, no choking on vomit in her sleep or anything.
She found herself thinking, as she sat on the foot of the spare bed, stroking Lord Tubbington absently; all her thoughts were Santana, however. What would Santana do when she woke up here? Thoughts like that. And then she reminsced secretly about the two of them in the bathroom.
Santana shifted beside her, with a sleepy noise, she rolled over rather spastically- Brittany even mildly wondered if Santana was having a night terror, but brushed it off as she looked at the other girls foot which had thrown over her own. She remained stone still for at least thirty seconds, and then heard Santana start to snore softly. That settles it; the Latina was asleep and well. Brittany tried to pull her foot out from under Santana's, stopped herself, and decided to gently pick up the other girls foot so she could gently place it back under the covers. She grabbed Santana's foot as lightly as she could, and once again, was stopped; her ankle had a funny texture about it. It was... crusty.
What the hell?
Brittany squinted down at Santana's foot, but the dark obscured her view from anything. Curiosity grew with her uncertainty, as she gently rubbed her thumb over the feeling, trying to decipher it. That wasn't normal...
She placed Santana's foot back on the bed and carefully, ever so carefully, got off the bed, and it let out a small creak that went unnoticed by the sleeping teen. Brittany tiptoed over to the night table, and pulled open the drawer- cringing at the loud sound it gave off.
Please still be in here, please be in here!
She, as silently as she could, rifled through the junk in the drawer, striving to find the thing she remembered was always in here-
She found it.
Yes!

Pointing it at the ground, Brittany clicked the button on the flashlight, and it let off a little ray of light down at the floor. She kept it pointed away from Santana's face as she made her way back to the bed, and shone it on Santana's ankle.
Five scratches ran along the length of the girls ankle, dried blood crusting as scabs. They seemed generally fresh, a day- maybe two- old.
Brittany covered her mouth. Why would Santana do this? Is this actually what she had seen on the night of the theatre? Cuts?
Her heart seemed to implode with sympathy. Didn't people who... didn't people who cut usually have something really bad happening to them?
Still dumbstruck, Brittany clicked off the flashlight, and let the information sink in as she shuffled back to her bedroom.