Hi :)

Thanks to my beta T97Carolina and also Mellowslinky for reading this over.

Hope you enjoy it!

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Ch 6: Sugar, We're Going Down

Rachel was the first to recover from the shock- which turned quickly into fury. She dropped her bags on the driveway with a clatter and started forwards towards the house.

"Puckerman!" She called shrilly. "I can't believe this. Get out here!"

Puck's grin widened as he saw her coming, and then he disappeared from behind the front window, seconds later reappearing as he opened the front door.

Rachel walked right up to him and punched him on the arm.

"Noah this is highly irresponsible; not to mention illegal. It's called breaking and entering, and God knows what would have happened if you'd have been caught!"

Puck ruffled her hair and brushed past her, flashing his grin at Lauren.

"The hiding place for your spare key is number four on the list of most obvious places to hide keys." He pointed with his foot towards an old pair of dusty boots beside the welcome mat, their openings crisscrossed with cobwebs. "Honestly, Zizes, you were kinda asking for it."

Lauren had her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. "I can't say I'm glad it was you lurking around inside my house. But," she shrugged, "it could have been worse."

Rachel was still furious.

"No, no, Lauren, he should not be allowed to get away with this. I…"

Puck batted her good-naturedly away again and nodded over Lauren's shoulder at the rest of them.

"Hey, ladies."

"You're a loser Puck," Mercedes shook her head.

"I thought I'd surprise you guys," he shrugged.

"Surprised is putting it mildly," Tina muttered.

Puck's grin widened as he spotted Santana.

"Hey," he nodded at her. They hadn't seen one another in a week and had hardly texted at all. Santana felt distant from him, and the sight of his face in the window had only turned her panic into a cool sort of resignation. Puck arrived against her and slung his arms around her waist, kissing her on the lips.

"You could have told me," she muttered, not moving her hands from the straps on her bags. Puck pulled away and rolled his eyes.

"That was part of the fun!"

She raised her eyebrows at him. "Fun?"

"You'll see," Puck said, a suggestive smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Once they'd gotten all their bags inside, Lauren directed them to the basement, which had a TV and a stack of spare mattresses. As Puck and Santana went to follow the others, Lauren stuck out her arm, blocking the doorway.

"Na-uh," she shook her head. "I know you don't deserve this favor, Puckerman, but I'll be damned if I have to listen to any shuffling in a dark corner tonight." She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. "You two are back down the hall in the guest bedroom."

Beside Santana, Puck whooped and pulled Lauren into a hasty one armed hug. When he pulled away he took Santana's hand and led her down the hall.

The guest bedroom was nice- with a high, plush looking bed and a bathroom all of its own. Santana dumped her bags by the corner of the door and looked at the photographs of a young Lauren in her glory days as a toddler pageant winner. Lauren must have forgotten they were hung up there otherwise Santana was sure she never would have allowed them within two feet of the room.

"Oh my God, these are golden," Santana laughed, stepping closer to look at the one on the bedside table. Lauren had a tutu on and two bright pink blotches of blush on her cheeks.

"Look at this," Puck said. Santana saw that he'd sprawled himself out across the bed, and was moving his arms up and down like he was trying to make a snow angel with the bed sheets. "All this space, just for us. And I bet that door looks pretty awesome closed, too."

Santana looked at him incredulously. "I don't think so," she countered, but she approached the bed anyway.

As soon as she was within reach, Puck sat up, cupped the back of her thighs in his palms, and pulled her forwards until she nearly toppled over into his lap. She used his shoulders to steady herself.

"Don't."

"Shh," he tugged her closer and kissed her cleavage. She squeezed his shoulders harder, but the pressure from his hands made her knees buckle and they came down on the edge of the bed. At the new angle Puck could get his lips higher- to Santana's neck. He kissed the skin there open mouthed.

Her breath caught.

"Uh. Lauren wants to know what you did with their spare key."

Santana looked around to see Quinn hovering near the doorway. Her eyes were hard, looking straight over Santana's shoulder to Puck.

"Uh," Puck had to clear his throat to get his voice less hoarse. "On the side table in the foyer, I think."

Quinn dropped her eyes and disappeared. Santana turned back around to Puck, remembering that familiar smell she'd caught on Quinn earlier in the week. Puck's smell, Santana was sure. She could smell it on him now. On herself, too, because of how close they'd been. Puck's gaze stayed locked over her shoulder where Quinn had just been, and suddenly, Santana felt panicky and shaken. She squeezed his shoulders again, and he looked up at her.

"What was that?"

Puck blinked. "What?"

"That…" she tossed her head in the direction of the door.

"Oh," Puck cleared his face of any confusion and drew her closer, "just pissed she interrupted."

Santana strained against his grip and got to her feet, straightening her clothes. "There was nothing to interrupt," she said coolly and left him on the bed.

Down in the basement, the others had set up their beds in haphazard clumps around the TV. It reminded Santana of Mercedes's house, and she sought out Brittany's pillow with the fish patterned cover. She smiled when she saw it placed carefully on a neatly made bed. By the looks of the fluffy pink blanket on the mattress beside it, Brittany was sleeping next to Sugar.

The others were in the far corner of the basement, grouped around the copious amounts of alcohol Puck had brought with him. Lauren and Sugar were crouched down investigating the three crates of beer, while Tina, Amy, and Emma were all tugging a bottle of peach schnapps back and forth between them, each sharing drunken stories. Mercedes had latched on to a bottle of Absinthe, telling an alarmed looking Brittany that it was illegal in some states.

"Where does Puck get all this stuff?" Emma turned to Santana

"Uh," she shrugged. "I never ask."

"That attitude is probably why you're still dating him," Amy muttered.

Santana stilled. "What?"

"Nothing," Amy said airily, waving a hand at Santana while sharing a pointed look with Emma.

Santana felt her cheeks heat up and she took a threatening step forward. "Tell me what you said…"

"Nothing...geez…" Amy said, shrinking back from Santana and giving her a withering look. "There's no need to be such a psycho."

"Such a…" Santana broke away into a breathy laugh of disbelief. "Just a hint, keep your face out of my relationship, because you really don't know shit about it."

"Don't I?" Amy challenged.

"Would both of you just shut the fuck up?" Quinn burst out from beside Brittany, making everyone jump. She was pink cheeked, and her gaze was hard like it had been when she'd asked Puck about the spare keys.

"Excuse me…" Santana started, rounding on her. But she was stopped by Lauren, who stood up and took Santana by the shoulders.

"Alright, ladies, save the wrestling for tomorrow night."

"Yes, I agree, let's not spoil the evening," Rachel added. "There's the more pressing matter of what we're going to have for dinner- it is nearly seven, after all."

"I feel like a Lost Boy," Brittany said suddenly. There was a ripple of laughter- with even Quinn and Amy softening. But Santana couldn't laugh; she just stood and watched Brittany send a small smile straight at her.

Dinner that night turned out to be an eclectic mix of Doritos, Twizzlers and Rachel's special bran crackers –a combination that made Santana think that they weren't too far from being Lost Boys.

Everyone had moved to their own beds to pig out in front of the TV; the air was full of shrieks and clattering as the packets of food were thrown back and forth across the room. From her bed in the prime space in front of the TV, Lauren kept shushing them. She'd connected her computer up to the TV and was trying to get them all as obsessed as she was with a late-nineties show called Freaks and Geeks.

Since they had no bed down in the basement, Santana and Puck were sharing the couch that had been pushed to the side of the room to accommodate everyone's mattresses. It was only a two seater so they were curled tightly together, Puck encircling her with his arms. He had one hand under the blanket spread over them, and he inched it up Santana's thigh, batting away the hem of her skirt like it was some irritating fly. He had no interest in the show or in any of the packets of food being passed around, and he was making it increasingly obvious.

"Let's go to bed," he breathed into Santana's ear.

"Soon," she muttered, nudging his chin back with her shoulder.

The truth was Santana wasn't interested in the show either. She tried her best to follow the storyline, but every time something funny happened her ears would only seem to register the tone of Brittany's laughter. And every time she looked Brittany's way she'd see her fixated on the screen of her phone, tapping the buttons in a furious texting rhythm. Annoyance was beginning to creep up upon Santana, tightening her jaw and hunching her shoulders.

The next time Puck shifted to whisper again, his hand still insistently stroking, Santana agreed before he'd even gotten the suggestion out. She stood up, pulling him with her.

"We're going to bed now," she announced, lifting a foot to maneuver around Tina and Mercedes' mattresses, which were the closest. They were looking up at her, snickering.

"Oh, grow up," Santana aimed a half-hearted kick in their vicinity. At the door to the basement Santana paused and looked back. Everyone was looking over their shoulders at her and Puck. Most were giggling like Tina and Mercedes, but Rachel and Lauren both had their eyebrows raised suspiciously. Quinn was the only one not paying them any attention. Her figure was stiff backed and turned resolutely to the TV screen. Santana looked instinctively up at Puck to see if he'd registered that fact too, but he was too preoccupied in trying to edge Santana further up the stairs.

"Niiight," Sugar called through a mouthful of Doritos, waving a hand in the air, narrowly missing Brittany's head. She'd also turned around, and Santana could make out that stupid smile directed her way again.

"Night, San," she said.

Puck gave his hardest tug yet on Santana's arm at the same time as Brittany's phone lit up amidst the blankets in her lap. She looked down at it and Santana let Puck lead her up the stairs.

Puck was lying in bed waiting when Santana returned from their bathroom in her pajamas, clutching her dirty clothes against herself. He was shirtless, his arms bent and his hands tucked under his head, propping it up so he could grin at her.

She put her clothes and still damp toothbrush on top of her bag and walked over to the bed, slipping underneath the blankets Puck had pulled back for her. As soon as her body met the bulk of the mattress, he rolled closer and threaded an arm underneath her, tucking her against his chest.

The skin there was hot- almost scalding- against Santana's face and it had a thick, musky smell, tinged by his deodorant. Santana inhaled, trying to let it settle her, but for some reason, that smell combined with the crispness of her toothpaste made her feel queasy. She lifted her cheek off his chest and took a breath further away.

"You okay?" Puck asked, his voice low and husked.

"Yeah, just tired," she murmured, settling her head back down against him.

"Too tired to..." He nudged her.

"Yes," she said, unease pricking at her.

There was a heavy pause and Puck shifted his palm up the curve of her waist until his fingers were fanned across her ribs. He kissed the top of her head.

"It's not scary," he said quietly.

Santana stiffened. This was the vein their arguments always travelled down.

"I know that," she said, trying to keep her voice even.

"But you don't 'cause you've never done it. I promise it'll feel real good and..." Puck's voice had risen now, taking on the air and earnestness of those Jehovah's Witness people who came to your door ready to preach you into the ground.

"Puck," her voice was strained- half a plea, "don't."

"But babe," he sat up on his elbow. "This is the perfect time. We're alone, and there are no parents, and..."

"Tomorrow night," she blurted out.

Puck's face, so near her own, lit up. "Really?"

"Really," she said, dropping her eyes to the skin on his chest. She brushed her fingers lightly across it. "I'm just too tired tonight." She dropped back onto her own pillow for good measure.

"Mmm," he murmured, rolling with her and sinking his mouth heavily to hers. His kiss was hot and urgent, making both their breaths come jaggedly through their noses.

"Stop," she managed when Puck rolled further on top of her, groaning into her mouth. His hands were below the blankets shifting up her tank top. "Stop," she said again.

"You're so fucking hot," he groaned, his hands now curving up her rippling stomach.

"Puck," she said louder, putting her hands on his shoulders and pushing.

He sighed heavily and rolled off of her, slumping back against his pillow and slinging an arm up over his face.

"Jesus Christ," Santana heard him mumble in a bitter voice.

Santana rolled over on her side to face him. She felt tense, and guilty, and close to tears. She'd learned that not giving boys what they wanted would make the chase more inciting, threaded with excitement. But now she wasn't so sure.

She wasn't sure of many things these days. But as she watched the dim features of Puck's face under his arm, trying to read what he was feeling, she felt almost sick at the thought of him losing interest. Because at least when he wanted her, it was a buffer between everything that terrified her. Somehow it worked to ward off those squirming feelings she got from someone else's smiles and the touch of their bare skin during a scary movie.

Those thoughts chased her across the mattress back to him. She gently pulled his arm off of his face.

"I said tomorrow, and I mean it. Alright?"

"Alright," he echoed grimly, his eyes directed resolutely at the ceiling.

Santana's panic was white hot now. She scrambled for more; for something to loosen the aloofness in his voice.

"But until then…" She put her palm carefully against the plains of his stomach and edged it down beneath the weight of the blankets. When her fingertips met the ridged waistband of his boxers Santana felt Puck's breath hitch in his chest and then release in a long, loud gush. His hand came up to curl slowly around the back of her head, tangling his fingers through her hair. Then he closed his eyes.

The next morning, Santana woke up to the sound of a very heated discussion coming from what seemed like right next to her head. She blinked her eyes open, flicked the sleep away from the corners and tried to get some bearing on the situation. She and Puck were alone in the sun stifled room, he was still asleep, snoring softly, oblivious.

"I only…no listen…" Rachel's voice travelled down the hall towards them and then Lauren's voice, louder still, interrupted.

"You only half destroyed the contents of my fridge. I made Mom buy all that especially and…"

"There were two buckets of fried chicken in there Lauren. Two! And for breakfast it's just…"

"You scattered it on the front lawn! Two buckets!" Lauren's voice rose.

"For the birds," Rachel annunciated like Lauren was deaf.

"It's chicken!" Lauren shrieked. "That's like cannibalism! It's how foot and mouth disease was invented."

"Diseases aren't invented, Lauren," Rachel said in a mock dumb voice.

"Says the girl who fed chicken to birds!"

Chuckling, Santana got out of bed and plucked one of Puck's sweatshirts from the pile of clothes by his bag, shrugging it over her head. She pulled the door open right on Lauren squaring Rachel off, clutching a crumpled empty bucket of chicken.

"Erm. Morning?" Santana tried.

"Morning, Santana," Rachel said quickly, taking several steps back from Lauren.

"What's, uh…what's going on?"

"Well I started to make everyone a healthy breakfast and then Lauren came in and got upset because I threw out her old fried chicken buckets."

"I heard," Santana said, raking her fingers through her hair.

"My lawn," Lauren gritted out, "is covered in bits of it. Rachel you will go out there and you will pick every single bit of it up even if it kills you."

As Rachel opened her mouth to object Santana brushed past them, heading for the kitchen.

Rachel had made fruit and oatmeal in a large mixing bowl and Santana heaped some into a smaller bowl while she waited for the coffee to be ready. She ate alone in the kitchen, listening to the muffled sounds of Lauren's instructions and Rachel's complaints coming from the back yard.

"Mmm, oatmeal?" A sunny voice sounded behind her. Santana swiveled on her stool to see Brittany, in tiny pajama shorts and a tank, her hair done neatly up in a bun at the top of her head. She looked fresh and bright and insanely awake for this time in the morning. Santana still felt sleep raking at the inside of her eyelids, and she bet her hair made her look like something off of The Ring.

Brittany propped herself up on the stool beside Santana, tugged the large bowl towards her, and grabbed a spoon from the pile Rachel had set on the counter. She dug into it.

Santana paused to watch her chew, her eyebrows raised to see Brittany's reaction. After a moment, Brittany ducked her head to swallow and then shot a look at Santana.

"Are you looking forward to tonight?" she asked, lining up her next spoonful.

Santana shrugged, "kind of."

"It'll be funny to see everyone drunk."

"There's a lot of alcohol," Santana agreed.

"Are you nervous?"

Santana looked up in surprise. It was almost like Brittany had taken the thoughts about what she'd promised Puck out of her head.

"Nervous…"

"About Liv coming. Everyone seems nervous and I thought because you and her are friends…"

"We aren't friends," Santana corrected automatically. She was on autopilot as she remembered that Liv was probably going to show up. The oatmeal she'd eaten felt thick and heavy in her stomach.

"Sorry," Brittany said, her spoon hovering over her bowl as she looked at Santana. "It's just everyone said last night that you two were super close."

"When did they say that?" Santana narrowed her eyes.

"When you and Puck went to bed."

"We were close," Santana said slowly, fixing her eyes on the bench just past Brittany's elbow. "Not so much anymore."

"When was the last time you saw her?"

Santana knew exactly, but instead she shrugged.

"When she left school, I guess."

"The others said…"

"Hey, guys."

Santana and Brittany looked around to see Mercedes, Tina, and Sugar trailing into the kitchen- their hair mussed and their eyes bleary.

"Why's Lauren making Rachel pick shit up off the grass?" Sugar asked, pouring herself coffee into Santana's already empty mug.

"Don't ask," Santana warned.

"Is this…" Mercedes was pointing at the oatmeal in the mixing bowl gingerly. "Is this Lauren's sad excuse for a breakfast?"

"No, Lauren's excuse for breakfast is spread all over the back lawn. That's Rachel's," Santana said.

Mercedes took several steps back with her face screwed up.

"I'd dig in if I were you," Tina said, navigating Lauren's cupboards and pulling out a bowl of her own. "We'll have to keep ourselves fueled if we're going to survive the day. You just know we'll have a butt load to do before the party."

Now that Tina pointed it out, Santana had to agree with her. She'd seen a flash of Lauren's living room on her way to the kitchen- and it was posh. Like… Professionally carpet cleaned posh. You wouldn't know it by looking at Lauren, but Santana had a feeling her family were the "professionally clean" type.

"She'd have to be crazy to have it in here," Tina said, munching on the oatmeal and peering around.

"That means we're going to have to clean out the garage or something," Mercedes huffed.

"Well I'd rather clean out the garage than the basement. I just made my bed perfectly, and no one is going to ruin it," Sugar said warningly, passing her eyes over everyone.

"It's true," Brittany said, nodding and swallowing. "She folded the sheet over the top of her duvet and everything."

As it turned out, Mercedes' prediction was right. Once they were all up and out of bed, showered and, in Rachel's case, thoroughly clean from any residual chicken goop, Lauren led them all to the garage. It was piled so high full of junk that Santana knew there was no way any car could fit in there. Not even those weird Asian bubble cars. Puck took one look at the mess, passed his hand through his mo-hawk and shook his head.

"It's beer o'clock," he muttered, turning and walking out of the garage.

Lauren turned to them apologetically. "My Mom is a hoarder. She likes…"

"…pottery?" Quinn asked, gingerly squeezing past two waist high stacks of roughly molded pots.

Lauren shrugged.

"More like containers in general. All those boxes," she gestured to the piles around the walls, "are mostly empty…Or filled with other boxes. So we just have to collapse them and pile them up in the basement."

"Let's collapse and watch TV at the same time," Amy suggested, moving forwards to heap a bunch of boxes into her arms and headed back in the direction of the basement. Agreeing, Emma, Quinn, Tina, and Mercedes grabbed boxes of their own and followed her.

"Alright, well they're on boxes, obviously," Lauren nodded. "And I need some of you to shift the pottery and Tupperware too."

After a pause, Rachel and Sugar moved to grab some of the pots.

"Good," Lauren said, "just stack them outside around the back of the garage."

Then she turned to Brittany and Santana.

"Actually, I'm glad both of you are lazy shits and didn't offer to help because I have some errands for you to run in town. I would go and do them myself but the last time I left this place unattended someone broke in, and someone else spread chicken all over my lawn."

Brittany snorted. Lauren sighed and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

"Follow me," she said, gesturing wearily.

She led them back into the kitchen where she presented Brittany with a list and Santana with a credit card.

"Pin number is at the top of the list" she said; marching them to the front door. The bus leaves from the street over in ten minutes, and for the love of God, please, take Puckerman with you."

The excitement and anticipation didn't hit Santana until Puck refused point blank to move from the couch in the basement and spending the afternoon alone with Brittany became a reality.

They reached Lauren's mailbox, and Brittany danced forwards into the street, brushing her hands lightly across a hedge of flowers so that they swayed and bounced on their stems. Santana watched her skip ahead, grinning like an idiot and soaring on the inside.

After a few steps, Brittany whirled around, doing an odd backwards skip-hop so that she could look at Santana.

"You wanna know something funny that's on the list?" She asked brightly, waving it in the air.

"What?" Santana asked, lengthening her stride to keep up. Brittany stilled and held the paper up to her face so she could read.

"It says times two buckets of fried chicken."

"What?" Santana took the list off of Brittany and stopped to read it too. It was written at the very bottom. "Na-uh, there's no way I'm walking around this town carrying two buckets of chicken."

"But it's on the list," Brittany said, conflicted.

"Not anymore," Santana neatly ripped the bottom off, scrunching it up and tossing it into a nearby mailbox. Brittany grinned so wide her head jerked backwards.

The bus trip into town turned out to be just as amusing as the one down to Lauren's place. The seats were too small, which meant they were jammed hard against one another, jostling together every time the bus surged forward through an intersection. Brittany seemed to have a talent for spotting random happenings out the window- like the homeless lady she pointed out who was walking with a cat perched on her shoulder. Every person who got on the bus and walked past them to find a seat received a 'hello' and a buoyant smile.

By the time they got the supermarket Santana's cheeks were aching from her own smiles. She grabbed a cart while Brittany stood near the entrance, consulting the list.

"We should be able to get all of this here…" she said, when Santana pushed the cart near her.

"Good," Santana said, pausing to let Brittany through the automatic doors. "What's up first?"

They worked well together- Brittany would go on ahead up the aisle, find the right thing and then skip back to Santana for her approval. Santana couldn't help but smile as she watched Brittany weave her way through people, stopping to let them pass and smiling and bouncing on the balls of her feet like she was having the time of her life.

It registered to Santana that the last time she'd been in a supermarket was with Brittany as well. In the cat food aisle. She smiled at that, doubting that she'd ever be able to think of cat food and not recall Brittany sending it to her cat as a secret admirer. It made her smile, too, to think that she and Brittany kind of had a thing. Granted, that thing was a cat aisle in a supermarket, but it had been the first time Santana had known that she could just be around Brittany- with no answers and no reasons.

"Hey, you, stop skiving off your cart pushing duties." Brittany hip bumped Santana lightly, smiling as Santana blinked and registered her presence. She held up a packet of sparkly pink and purple colored straws. "Will these do?"

"Sugar will like them," Santana conceded.

"Good enough for me," Brittany tossed them in. "Next on the list is… Mixers…"

"Coke and juice and stuff," Santana nodded, wheeling the cart around. "I'm pretty sure we passed them a couple of aisles back."

Ten minutes later, they wheeled the cart into the parking lot full of bags. Santana was of half a mind to wheel it right to the bus stop- because she knew it would probably cost her several fingers to try to carry them all down the road. But Brittany was tugging the front of the cart good naturedly towards the cart drop off, humming again. Santana didn't know what song the tune belonged to, but she started humming, too, loud enough for Brittany to toss a beaming over-the-shoulder smile in her direction.

The sudden blast of a horn from a passing car made them both jump and the smile fell spectacularly off of Brittany's face. The horn blared again and Santana spun wildly around, trying to find its source.

"Santana, hey!" A sleek, black range rover had pulled up into the vacant parking lot nearby, and Sam was hanging out of the back window, waving cheerfully. The front window lowered, and Kurt appeared, looking over the tops of his sunglasses at Santana, and wiggling his fingers at her.

"Well if it isn't my third favorite Fag Hag," He grinned.

"Third?" She asked in mock incredulity, turning the cart around and heading over to the car. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Brittany following.

"You two pretty ladies want a ride?" Kurt said, dropping his voice and roughening it.

Santana laughed. "Actually, for once I'm going to accept." She turned to Brittany. "Britt this is Kurt, another boarder at Andrews' Academy. Kurt, this is…"

"Brittany," Kurt said promptly, nodding. "Artie's little flame." He giggled and then turned to Finn in the front passenger seat. "She's cute," he muttered.

Santana tensed.

Finn leaned forwards in the front passenger seat to see past Kurt.

"Hey, guys!" He waved. "Hop in. There's room in the back with Sam coz Mike went with Artie and his Dad in their special car."

"And Sam'll get out and help you with your bags," Kurt said, looking pointedly in the rearview mirror at him.

Before Santana knew it, she and Brittany were cramped in Kurt's back seat beside Sam, the bags of groceries littered all around their feet. Kurt struck up a conversation with Brittany about Disney while Sam and Finn quizzed Santana about how much alcohol Puck had gotten for them.

When they pulled into Lauren's driveway, the garage door was up and Santana was surprised to see it nearly empty of clutter. Rachel was swiping the vacuum cleaner over the floor; and Sugar and Mercedes were setting up some fold out camping chairs. They all jumped and looked up when Finn honked the horn.

As they piled out, the others migrated out of the house to greet them. Puck moved through the boys, bumping fists with each of one of them before leveling a grin at Brittany, who was beside Santana helping her get the bags from the car.

"Guess who's here," he said in a teasing voice. Santana looked up as Puck stepped back to allow Artie to wheel into view, grinning sheepishly at Brittany.

"Hi," he said, giving her an awkward wave of his hand.

Santana was satisfied to note that Brittany didn't drop any of the bags she was holding to greet him, but she did go pink.

"Hi Artie!" She exclaimed, smiling at him.

"Here, I can…" He gestured at the bags in Brittany's hands and then at his lap.

"Oh, no, no," she said, "I've got it. But, come with me to the kitchen."

Santana watched Artie's face light up as he nodded zealously, spinning himself around as she walked past him.

Santana's chest felt bound again. And suddenly hauling the groceries she and Brittany had had so much fun buying was the absolute last thing in the world she felt like doing. She unfurled her fingers so that the plastic handles slid off of them and the bags clattered to the concrete.

"Sorry," she mumbled, "sorry." But as soon as Sam and Finn bent to pick them up, Santana turned and walked away.

With all the boys there to help, the party space was set up by early afternoon. By then, Santana was thoroughly sick of hearing the others cooing at how cute Brittany and Artie were. They were joined at the hip, and everywhere Brittany wanted to go, Artie wheeled her there on his wheelchair.

One space that remained Artie and Brittany free was the basement- the steep stairs not allowing wheelchair access. It also had remained deserted since Puck and Finn had hauled all the alcohol up into the old fridge that had been unearthed at the back of Lauren's garage.

As soon as everyone became distracted by an argument over what songs should be included on the party iTunes playlist, Santana snuck away down the basement stairs. It was dim and cool and blissfully quiet. Santana picked her way across the mattresses and sank onto the couch, turning her face into the cushions and taking a deep, calming breath. She fought the urge to check her phone for the second time in the past few minutes. There had been no word from Liv and yet the possibility of her showing up still hovered over Santana's head- as quiet and menacing as a storm.

And then there was Santana's promise to Puck- which she knew by the loaded smiles she caught him giving her throughout the day, he hadn't forgotten. It made her feel sick with nerves, and she pressed her face harder into the cushions, wishing she could slip between them. Every now and then the thud of footsteps sounded above her and each time they came Santana tensed, listening wearily to see if they would near the basement. Luckily, they never did. Santana began to feel drowsy- spurred on by the several wine coolers she'd accepted from Puck over the afternoon. Her thoughts wafted away from her and blissfully, she sunk into semi-consciousness.

Santana had been asleep for what seemed like all of two seconds when she was woken by a sharp prodding in her ribs. Breath scattered across her face- heavy with the smell of vodka and cranberry- and there was a sharp, shrill giggle.

"She's waking up," Sugar whispered loudly.

"Is she?" There was another prod in her ribs and the sound of Rachel's laughter- scattered erratically.

Santana sighed and sat up, swiping her hair off of her face and blinking at them. They were leaning on one another, their grins wide and loose. Above their heads the bass of the music was pounding in a steady rhythm, and muffled shouts and laughter sounded too.

"You. You, you, you," Rachel wiggled a finger in Santana's face, swaying heavily against Sugar. "You are missing the party! Everyone has dance and, and…wine," Rachel burped and gestured wildly at herself. "I've had wine."

"I can see that," Santana said, wrinkling her nose.

"Come onnnn," Sugar tugged at her. "Puck's making drinks and he's lined up like four for you."

"Drinks!" Rachel called, pumping her fist in the air. "Let's go!"

By the time they reached the garage, Santana was practically holding them both up, but as soon as they rounded the corner into the room they took off, laughing and shouting at the others. Santana surveyed the room, gauging the state everyone else was in.

Tina and Mercedes were drunk along the same vein as Sugar and Rachel- laughing and swaying and spilling their drinks on the garage floor. Lauren, Emma and Amy were crowded in the middle of the floor, dancing with Mike, Kurt and Sam. Quinn was sitting on top of one of the benches, directing Puck and Finn in their attempts at mixing drinks. And over in the far corner, Artie had his wheelchair parked in front of Lauren's lap top, scrolling through the music. Brittany was standing behind him, leaning over his shoulder and pointing to a song.

She had her back to Santana, and was wearing a short, light blue dress that rose up the back of her thighs as she bent further over Artie. Santana let her eyes linger, feeling her pulse rise as she took in the shape of Brittany' butt through the material of the dress.

"Santana!" Kurt's high pitched squeal pierced over the music, and Santana jumped her eyes away from Brittany- just in time it seemed, because Brittany had heard Kurt's yell and turned around too. Their eyes met. And there was that smile. That smile that made Santana's heartbeat rise up into her throat.

Kurt's face appeared in front of her, and he took Santana by the hands, whirling her into a vigorous, stumbling waltz. It took a moment to extract herself, but when she did she was dizzy. It felt like the spinning had made the wine she'd drunk earlier in the evening bubble back up to her head. She stumbled to the bench and leaned upon it. Further down, Puck looked up from his mixing and caught sight of her.

"Hey, babe, wanna drink?"

Santana shook her head, feeling nausea rising in her throat. She looked up and caught Quinn, further down the bench, looking between her and Puck. Santana suddenly felt reckless.

"What?" She called over to Quinn, notching her chin.

Quinn jerked her head back, looking affronted. "What? Nothing."

"Really? Because you have your mega-bitch face on. Or, wait, is that just your default setting?" Santana's voice climbed.

Finn looked up from his drink. "Common guys," he held up his hands. "Let's just all get along alright? This should be a good night."

"I'm not the one…" Quinn started, but Santana scoffed loudly enough to make her stop speaking.

"Whatever," Santana said, picking up the drink Puck had sat near her and turning around and heading out of the garage. Once she was outside in the drive way, Santana walked aimlessly down the side of the garage into the five foot gap between the garage and the boundary wall. She walked until she was completely in shadow and then leaned heavily against the side of the garage, enjoying its coolness on the back of her scalp. She wanted nothing more than to be back on the couch, not feeling or seeing anything.

Back down the path towards the garage the sound of laughter suddenly came into focus. Santana watched two long shadows stretched across the slither of concrete visible from where she was leaning. There was the slap of rushing footsteps and Brittany came into view around the corner of the garage, propping Sugar up. They stopped not too far down and Sugar doubled over. Brittany rubbed her back and murmured soothing words. After a few moments of retching, Sugar straightened up, patted Brittany vaguely on the shoulder and said, "it's all okay now. Yep. Let's dance!"

She yanked Brittany back around the corner, whooping and giggling shrilly.

Santana looked at the space Brittany had been standing for a long time. And then she tipped her head back and lifted the drink to her mouth, taking an overly large sip. It was gin and tonic with extra gin. It was too strong. Santana gasped, and lowered the drink, her eyes brimming with tears. She leaned down and put the cup on the grass beside her feet.

As she rose back upright, she heard another clatter of footsteps on the concrete outside the garage. Round two for Sugar, Santana guessed. But when the shadow rounded the side of the garage Santana saw it was Brittany.

She watched her pick her way gingerly across the grass, not saying anything as she approached. Santana didn't say anything either. She suspected that maybe she couldn't even if she wanted to.

Brittany arrived in front of her and ducked her head down to Santana's in concern.

"You okay out here? I saw you when I was helping Sugar."

Santana nodded. "I'm okay, just not… Just not feeling well."

"Oh," Brittany pulled a face. "Like Sugar?"

"Yeah," Santana laughed. "But not the vomiting part."

"That's good."

"Yeah."

There was a long pause, in which the music cut abruptly to a different song. Santana recognized the opening bars- the furious notes of an electric guitar and the leap of a drumbeat

"I love this song," Brittany said, tilting her head to the side to listen. As the intro progressed she started nodding her head.

"Am I more than you bargained for yet? Been dying to tell you anything you wanna hear, coz that's just who I am this week. Lie in the grass, next to the mausoleum. I'm just a notch in your bed post, but you're just a line in a song."

Brittany stopped singing and pressed her lips together in a smile.

"I remember the words, too," she said softly. She lifted her eyes to Santana and their gazes caught and held.

It was easy looking at Brittany- far easier than Santana imagined it would be. They didn't break eye contact- not even when they heard the sound of Sam whooping and screaming a few of the lyrics and they both began to laugh.

Santana was becoming achingly conscious of how close up to her Brittany was standing. They were almost toe to toe and Santana could feel Brittany's body heat. It reminded her of that night in the TV room. The memory brought back the beat between Santana's legs.

And if the feeling of it had scared her at Mercedes's place, it was nothing on how Santana felt now. She was scared to move, scared, even to breathe. But in one warping moment, she felt herself reach forwards and take Brittany's hands in her own.

The contact made Santana's heart leap- as though her body had surprised her brain by moving of its own accord.

Brittany gripped Santana's hands and stepped a little closer. They hadn't looked away from one another's faces the whole time, but now Santana grew shy and dropped her eyes to Brittany's shoes in-between her own.

"It's okay," Brittany said in version of her voice that Santana had never heard before. It was lower. Urgent. It made the beating between Santana's legs worsen.

She didn't look up. But slowly, Santana pulled Brittany's hands towards her, directing them around her sides and behind her. When Santana let them go they settled against her lower back and stayed there. Santana reached her own hands back around and placed them not quite on Brittany's shoulders, not quite on Brittany's neck- but on the slopes in between. Near her right thumb, Santana could feel Brittany's pulse jumping. It was quick. As quick as her own, Santana thought.

Brittany leant forwards then, just a little. And Santana looked down and noticed she was almost on the tips of her toes. Santana's stomach dropped and she drew her eyes up quickly to look at her own hands, pressed in the curves of Brittany's neck. She looked at the difference in their skin tones. She looked at how all the hairs on her forearms were standing on end. She looked at the faint trace of veins on Brittany's neck. Then, slowly, and very carefully, she moved her thumb across until it was pressing against the skin above Brittany's pulse, just under her jaw bone.

She looked back up at Brittany then and her eyes were like floodlights on Santana's face. Brittany looked like she was searching for something, darting her eyes around Santana's features. Santana so badly wanted to give her what she was looking for, but she didn't know what it was exactly, so she jerked her fingers softly against that slope of Brittany's skin. That, it turned out, seemed to be enough.

It was surprising how warm Brittany's mouth was. Santana hadn't expected it. Their mouths met and opened against one another instantly, because there was no way Santana could have kept hers closed against that heat. They both took sharp, startled breaths through their noses but neither pulled away. Instead, and this surprised Santana too, Brittany lurched their bodies together with a sharp tug of her hands on Santana's lower back. The force made Santana's body hit the side of the garage, and it gave a hollow twanging sound.

They both ignored it and Santana shifted her hands, curving them up the back of Brittany's head and into her hair. Brittany groaned against Santana's mouth and darted her tongue forwards, curling it against Santana's own. Dimly, through the blood rushing through her ears, Santana registered the taste of alcohol as well as berries. Lip gloss, maybe.

And all of a sudden, the thought that someone she was kissing could be wearing lip gloss had Santana struggling out of the kiss. It took a moment, but once Brittany realized Santana was fighting it, she dropped her arms and stepped away, looking blearily at Santana. Her hair was mussed up, her lips were swollen and she was panting.

Santana stepped away too, forgot the garage was behind her, and clanged into it again. The sound ricocheted in the space around them and made Brittany flinch.

Santana raised a hand to her mouth and gingerly touched her lips, still feeling the press of Brittany's kiss. Everything inside her felt like it was hurling a hundred miles an hour and the several shaky breaths she took did nothing to help.

Brittany's face was pained and anxious. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I…"

Whoever had compared the human body to a machine had Santana's support completely, because her own surged her relentlessly forwards. She cleared the newly created distance between her and Brittany in one step, reaching for Brittany's face. When their lips met for the second time, Santana closed her eyes and let it pull her under like quick sand.