Santana blinked at the message she had gotten from a blocked number, jarred from her light nap on the couch. Yawning, she stretched out slightly, eyes swiveling around in an attempt to get her bearings. She was extremely tired from the the week, having had work and all those other things on her mind.

Blinking, she swiped her thumb over the message, opening it, even as her gaze searched for her roommate, slightly curious.

She didn't seem to be at home, and for the first time, Santana notices how dark it is. Hadn't it just been noon? But no, the stiffness in her bones tells her differently.

"Goddamnit, I wasted a day." She muttered, rubbing at her eyes as she read the text.

Pick any number between 60 and 240.

Confused, Santana checked the time stamp, and found it to be from two hours ago. Concerned, she thought about it, and figured really quickly that it was from Glee.

A weird anxiety grows in her chest, the nerves beating in her stomach. Did she miss the taping somehow? Breathing in deep, she types back the first number she could think of – 99 – and waited for something to happen.

The doorbell rang then, the ducks quacking as loud and jarring as they were every single time. Santana wondered who it could have been, but decides to stand up anyway, going to get the door with sleep-heavy bones.

"Did you forget your keys or something?" She leans on the frame, having swung the door open to reveal her roommate, struggling with a load of groceries. Easily, she catches a paper bag just as it falls from her fingers. "And why do we need tuna?"

"I had a craving. And does it look like I can get in the door with these?"

"Whoa, you ok? You sound like someone put rancid vinegar in your mouth."

"It's just…Glee." Quinn huffs, moving past Santana and setting her armload onto the kitchen island. "Did you even check your tweets today?"

"Why would I? I hate the thing."

"Good." She rests a minute with her arms on the marble top, before looking up and offering her a wry smile. "It's just that because of the show, I was nearly thrown out of the grocery store."

"Why?" Santana asked, grabbing items out of the paper bags to put away.

"I was mobbed, I tell you. Mobbed!" Quinn threw her hands up, as she turned to lean against the island. "All I did was walk into the store to pick up a basket, and these girls come up from nowhere to ask for autographs. So I gave it to them, you know, because it's never a bad thing." She glances at Santana, who hums as she places eggs into the fridge. "And then as I'm putting things into the basket, it happens again, first at the apple counter, then the frozen meat."

"You bought bacon? Again?" Santana's eyes widen, as she scrambles through the mess of bags on the counter, pulling out the pack. "Quinn, really? Your trainer is going to kill you if she hears about this."

"Shut up. I've had a craving for that too."

"Yeah, for the entirety of your life, you pig-murderer." Santana mutters, putting that into the fridge too. Heck, she couldn't care less what Quinn bought and ate – it was just that she was always so possessive of her damn bacon! Sensing a rebuke, Santana quickly changed the subject. "And then?"

"And then apparently someone tweeted about it, because suddenly this huge wave of fans swarm me in the cereal aisle – while I was getting you your stupid Lucky Charms, by the way."

Santana couldn't muster up the energy to be happy for her favourite cereal ever, not when she saw how frustrated her friend was. Rolling her eyes, she leant up onto the counter next to her, crossing her arms. "So what's the problem? You love your fans."

"I do." Quinn concedes, dropping her head to rest on Santana's shoulder, who relaxes enough to wrap an arm around her friend. "It's just…I'm overwhelmed, that's all. I didn't think I wouldn't be able to go grocery shopping without being tailed, is all. God, and the pictures!" She stood, pointing to herself. "Judy would kill me if she saw them."

"You and I both know we couldn't give two fucks about what Judy thinks." Santana scoffs. "And you look fine; what's wrong with what you're wearing?" Santana sometimes thought that Quinn over-dressed, always too ready for a papparazzi shoot. "Anyone else would be proud to be Yale-educated."

"Yeah, but not a Yale drop-out." Quinn rolled her eyes, tucking her hands into her pockets. "But whatever, I'm fine. I still love my fans. Wait," Quinn says, surveying the house. "-did you sleep the entire day?"

"I was tired." Santana shrugged, guiltless. Raising an eyebrow, she returned to her previous task of putting the groceries away, finishing them up as she spoke. "And don't give me that look – if you hadn't wanted me sleeping, you would have woken me up. Speaking of, did you get a text?"

"From Glee? Yeah."

"What number did you give?" Santana glanced at Quinn, who was padding over to the couch.

"200. What did you?"

"99." Santana wandered over to join her friend, pulling her phone out of her pocket to tap on it worriedly. "Wonder what it could be for."

Quinn shrugged, as she pulled her own phone out to ponder it. "Well, it could just be a way to group us the next time. You know, following chronological order."

"I don't think that's it. Why wouldn't they just make us pick between 1 and 8, then?"

"Too easy?" Quinn bit her bottom lip.

Santana re-read the message again, and gave it a bit of thought. "But why sixty?"

"I guess we're just going to have to wait to find out." Quinn sighed. A thought comes to Santana, making her laugh, and Quinn giving her a raised eyebrow.

"Holy shit, I bet you ten bucks that Puckerman chose 69."


Santana loved sleeping. More than anything else, she loved laying down on her huge bed, and sleeping in till two, and then pestering her best friend to make her something, even if she couldn't cook for the life of her.

Which was why when her phone made a noise at 8 am, Santana ignored it and tried to get back to sleep.

"Stupid ringtone." She mumbled, hating the catchy song bursting from her speakers.

When it finally died out, she sighed happily, ignoring the light spilling in past her curtains, and burrowing deeper into her blankets. A muted thump coming from the room next to hers didn't even phase her – Quinn had probably just thrown her own phone at a wall.

Which was why she didn't appreciate it when said blonde bursts into her room, breathing heavily. "San! San, you gotta wake up and get dressed!"

"Fuck." Santana dragged out heavily, barely moving. "Why?"

"We're late, Santana! We're late for the taping!"

"I don't work on Sundays."

"Santana!" Quinn marches right up to her friend's mattress, pulling at the bedsheets. "I'm serious! Glee sent us a text an hour ago! We're the only ones not there yet!"

"What?" That wakes her up, sending her sprawling off her bed when Quinn pulls particularly hard. "Shit!"

"So come on, and get dressed!" Quinn yells, even as she dashes back into her room to change herself. Santana's entire body was set to scrambling, as she clambers across her bed to get to her closet, flinging it open and picking the first two things she could see to wear.

Getting dressed quickly, she dashes back to her side table, grabbing her phone and checking it. How had she slept through all the texts?

Her eyebrows furrow, as she sees only one message from the show, time-stamped only a minute ago. Opening it, she reads the message, and a string of profanities leave her mouth, all of them culminating in one sentence.

"I'm going to fucking kill you, Quinn Fabray!"


Quinn still couldn't stop laughing, and that was after Santana had hit her with her own pillow three different times and changed into a different outfit properly and gotten into the car. She sat next to her right now, held back by her seatbelt, and curled into herself because of the amount of giggling she was doing.

"Oh my god, your face! It was priceless!"

"I swear to god Fabray, I will murder you one of these days. Slowly. And I'll enjoy every minute of it." She mutters, driving down the roads that will take them to where the text had told them to go.

"But I'm serious! And you even fell trying to get your leg into your pants!" She chortled, heaving to take a breath. "What? Shit!" She mimicked Santana's tone, crossing her arms around her body.

"Quinn." Santana hissed through gritted teeth. God, stupid Quinn Fabray and her stupid-ass pranks. "If you don't stop right now, I will stop this car and you will be walking the rest of the way."

"Aw, San, I'm sorry." The blonde finally quietens, putting a hand on the woman's arm. "I just got the text, and I knew it was going to be hard to wake you up, so I improvised."

"Because you couldn't just shake me like a normal person." The latina snorts, stopping at a red light. "Bitch."

"You and I both know you wouldn't get up that way." Quinn shrinks back, slightly hurt, and sighs. "Come on, I'm sorry."

Santana glances over, and lets out a low exhale. "You're lucky you're buying me breakfast."

"I am?" She echoes, and then smiles placatingly when Santana glares. "Alright, alright, I am." She laughs a little, before pointing to the right. "There's that café we met at last week by the bookstore down this way. You wanna get something from there?"

Santana brightens, feeling her mood change as she remembers Kurt. "Yeah, sure. Great idea."

As the light turns green, Santana begins to drive again, speaking without looking at her passenger. "You excited for today's taping?"

"Nervous, yeah. I do not like the look of that penalty."

"Right." Santana laughs, thinking of Brittany in those hotpants. "Well, it didn't look too bad."

"You're just saying that because you totally perved on Brittany's legs."

"What, a woman can't look?"

"No, but a woman who looks should be brave enough to at least talk to her." Quinn rolls her eyes, poking her friend's arm. "When are you going to at least say hi?"

"Soon, alright?" Santana states, rolling her own eyes at her patheticness. "I just don't know how."

"What? Just turn on the Lopez charm, because I'm honestly beginning to freak out over this version of you." When all Santana did was scrunch up her nose, Quinn rolled her eyes. "You know what I'm talking about. You're going soft."

"Am not." Santana scoffed, irritation creeping into her tone. Quinn snickered inwardly.

"In fact, I'd say you were sometimes, positively, cute."

"Am not!" Santana exclaimed, a hand flinging itself at Quinn. Yelping, Quinn tried to dodge out of the way, but still got hit on her arm. "I'm about as cute as a tiger."

"Yeah, yeah." Quinn rubbed the aching spot, looking out the window to hide her smirk. "You're also easier to wind up." Spotting their location, she grinned. "There it is." Reaching a hand out to point at it, Quinn checked the time on her phone. "We have enough time for a take-away. Wanna get everyone else something while we're here?"

"You text them." She paused for a minute, pulling up in front of the store. "We should all exchange numbers today – it'll make it easier to do things like this."

"Or get closer to a certain someone." Quinn waggled her eyebrows, ducking out of the car with a wry chuckle before Santana could get to her. Reaching back into the car, she rolled her eyes easily at her friend, as she rifled through the glove compartment for the extra pair of sunglasses her friend kept in there. "Seriously though. You gotta promise me."

"I'm not promising you anything, Fabgay." Santana snorted, picking up her own pair as she slid out of her seat. "And besides, why would I do it with you? What are you, my fairy god-Melissa Eltheridge or something?"

"I'm just looking out for you." The blonde says, slamming her door shut as Santana does the same on the other side. "And I'm pretty sure she's interested in getting to know you." She idly adds, waiting for Santana to join her before heading into the café, which was thankfully empty, due to the early hour and day.

"God, you're so mushy." Santana gripes, walking through the door. She bites her lips for a second as they walk up to the counter, and then turns to her friend again. "What makes you think that?"

Quinn stifled a laugh, as she pulls out her phone, sending a mass-text to the boys in her band, and Sam and Mercedes and Rachel, the only people she had the numbers of. Adding an extra note to pass it on to Brittany and Mike, Quinn set it back into her pocket as Santana stares anxiously at the side of her head.

"Soft." She repeats her earlier sentiment, enjoying her friend's scowl. "What do you want?"

"Besides to punch you?" Santana glared, turning to the counter and finding the very person that had lifted her spirits before. "Oh my god, thank Batman you're working, Kurt." Santana sighed loudly. "This is Quinn Fabgay."

"Oh." Kurt's mouth hung open, as he stood staring at the blonde next to her. Quinn glanced at Santana from behind her shades, and turns back to Kurt.

"Hey, nice to meet you. And it's Fabray."

"Likewise. And I know." He shakes her hand for a moment, before shaking himself out of it. "I'm sorry, you must get this all the time." He laughs a bit jerkily. "It's just so surreal – I was watching Glee last night with my boyfriend, and we were both watching you, on our screens, and he said that Santana your boobs looked amazing in that robe, and I was totally agreeing and oh my god I'm rambling."

Santana had to suppress her laughter, and when she looked over at her friend, she saw her doing the same. Flipping her aviators up, she looked him in the eye, smiling. "It's cool. You're not as bad as Rachel Berry."

"Oh my god, yes, you guys know Rachel Berry."

"You're a fan?" Quinn asks, finding him amusing.

"Yes. Ever since her Broadway debut, with her insipiring backstory, how could I not? Of course, she does talk a lot, and maybe she could tone down her diva aura a bit, but otherwise, her voice is flawless!"

"Well, I'll be sure to pass it along." Santana chuckled. "You didn't seem to be this flustered when you helped me last week."

Kurt quickly recovers, hiding a cough behind his fist. "To be fair, I didn't know it was you. Your aviators completely hid your identity."

"That is the point of wearing them, yes." Santana jokes, as Quinn feels her phone vibrate with multiple texts. "Is that them?"

"Yeah." Quinn looks up from her phone, and glances at Kurt. "Are you up for a massive order?"

"For customers? That is what my boss is paying me for, yes." Kurt replies, obviously having calmed down a little. "Hit me." He says, picking up a marker.

As Quinn rattled off the orders, Santana thought about their previous conversation right before this one. She obviously wanted to get to know the blonde, but only if she didn't trip on her words half the time, or forgot them the other half.

Sighing hard, she pulls on her fingers in frustration. Why was she such a pussy around Brittany Susan Pierce?

"…and Santana, you want anything?"

"Yeah, a black coffee. As strong as you can make it." Santana looked at the pastry display, and prodded Quinn in the side. "Hey, you still owe me breakfast."

"Oh, right." Quinn narrowed her eyes, as she stared at the rows of muffins and other breads. "One of those lime, smiley face donuts, please."

"Fabgay, you're suppose to be buying me breakfast."

"It is for you." Quinn smirked, winking to Kurt, who suddenly becomes very preoccupied with his job, smiling wide.

"Really? It better be good then." Santana scoffed as she settles into a seat close by the counter.

"It has to be. The smiley face gurantees it." Quinn settles opposite to her. "So I'm guessing Kurt is one of the reasons you were so happy to come here?"

"He's cool." Santana shrugs, rolling her eyes. "Although he dresses as though Ken and Elvis had a baby, and then that baby had a lovechild with Elton John, you can't tell me you don't like him."

Quinn laughs. "I like your hat, Kurt!" She shoots to the man behind the counter, who can clearly hear them, and definitely had a great sense of humour, because he was only rolling his eyes at Santana, and actually curtsied for Quinn.

"You're totally avoiding my question, though." Santana's voice instantly lowers, as she glances around the completely empty café for eavesdroppers. "Why do you think Brittany might be into me?"

Quinn raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "We were watching the same show last night, right? The same two people tussling in the maze, right?"

Santana sighs exasperatedly. "But is she interested in me? I can't tell. I thought she was, I mean, I think she was flirting, and I think I was flirting back, but oh my god I sound like a fifth-grader." She covered her face with her hands. "Why do you do me like you do, Brittany Susan Pierce?"

Snickering at her friend, Quinn leaned back to enjoy her little meltdown. "Look, just start with a hello."

"I'm getting advice from a straight white girl. Dear lord, what has my life come to."

"You really don't check your tweets, do you?" Quinn snorted, pulling out her phone again, bringing up the popular social networking site. "Check out what's trending."

"'Catsringingdoorbells'?"

"Underneath that."

"'Glee'?"

"Will you look down?"

"'Quinntana4OTP'? Wait, what?"

Quinn scowled, raising an eyebrow. "Under that."

Santana's eyes bugged out. "'BrittanaMazeMoment'?" Not waiting for her friend to say anything, Santana clicked on the hashtag, which brought her to a page of tweets. "Holy sweet hell, this many people think I should have got it on with Brittany onscreen?"

"That many people can see the sexual tension, yeah." Quinn started when Kurt came by, juggling four cups of coffee in each hand. "Thanks Kurt."

Setting them down on the table, Kurt leaned back on his heels, grabbing the last cup and a paper bag and placing that in front of Santana, who barely looked up, too busy reading some of the very graphic tweets people had written.

"Ew, one guy wanted me to dry hump Brittany. Look, he even put it in haiku."

"The joy of 140 characters." Quinn mused dryly, standing to settle the payment.

"Sorry, I couldn't help but overhear the conversation," Kurt began, taking her card and swiping it through the reader. "-small place."

Quinn's eyes narrowed. "You said you watched last night's episode?"

"Yeah." Kurt nodded, completing the payment. "And I have to say, those two did look two seconds away from jumping each other."

"You don't have to tell me." Quinn rolled her eyes, glancing back to see Santana still stalking the tweets, looking extremely fascinated. "She's the most stubborn person I know."

"I can tell. Hey, I wrote Brittany Pierce's name on her cup. Was that alright?" Kurt smiled, seeing the idea form in the blonde's head too.

"I think it's more than alright."


"You have got to stop thinking of those things." Quinn rolled her eyes at Santana, who ignored her as she pulled up into the makeshift parking lot. Like last time, they had been tasked to report to a lot just outside of the city, the white tent erected and imposing in the bright morning sun. Crew members and people dressed in white were running around, setting up equipment or bringing them in. Santana killed the engine, leaning back in her seat.

"You shouldn't have shown them to me then. I have that one really weird song stuck in my head now."

"Well, don't. If I have to do the penalty today because of you, wearing hotpants is the least of your problems."

"Threats already? I really am rubbing off on you, Quinnie-boo."

"None of your finer traits, I see." Quinn said dryly, flipping her sunglasses over her eyes. Opening the door, she grabbed the take-out trays, scowling when Santana takes the other, her own cup already in her hand. "I can do it."

"Take the pastry bag." Santana says, slamming her door shut with her hip and locking her car. Quinn rolled her eyes as she began to make her way to the tent, Santana falling in step with her. Looking down at the cups she was holding, she realised that Kurt had written everyone's names on their orders. Mentally thanking the barista for his thoughtfulness, Santana sipped from her own drink, loving the bitterness as it slipped down her throat.

"Wait a second." She mumbled suddenly, counting the number of cups they had properly for the first time since getting them. "Ten?"

"Yeah, Sam had Mike's number, who had Brittany's." Quinn shrugged. "Apparently Sam and Mike really hit it off last week; they hung out this week, remember?"

"Sam did say something about it…" Santana trailed off, remembering an afternoon spent listening to Sam raging about a Mass Effect marathon, which led to Santana glaring at him for romancing Liara instead of Jack.

Ducking under the tent's flap, Santana realised that they were the last to arrive. The tent was still full of filiming equipment, but it looked more like a storage space than an actual set. The cast were milling around in little groups this time, talking politely to each other, getting comfortable with one another. It struck Santana again, that some of these people, she hadn't even met before last week, but she had had felt no awkwardness arise with them because of that fact. The way they looked now, it seemed as though they were more a group of friends at a reunion, than a group of celebrities forced together to participate in a gameshow.

The chemistry was just that good.

It was hot in the tent, and as Santana and Quinn approached the group, she said so. "Damn, Wheezy, can't we do this outside or something?"

The others all looked up in unison, smiles growing on their faces when they saw the coffee. Mercedes chuckled, walking over with the rest to retrieve her order. Picking her cup out of the tray, she took a sip, waiting for Santana to hand out the rest in her hand. "We were just waiting for you two. Could you have driven any slower, Satan?"

"It could have been Quinn driving, for all you know." Santana snorted, tossing the empty tray into a convenient trash bin next to her. Said blonde wandered up next to her, handing her another cup.

"Brittany didn't pick up her order. Why don't you pass it to her?" Quinn said, pressing it into her palm before she could protest. "And here, your donut."

"Thanks Fabray." She said, draining her own drink, feeling Brittany's cup warm her hand. "Where is she?"

"She had to clean up before. Wandered off to the Porta Potty, last I checked. But we can wait for her outside." Mercedes said, turning around and clapping her hands once. "Listen up people. Let's take this outside, alright? I don't want my makeup melting off my face in this heat."

The rest tittered in reply, walking out along with Santana and Quinn, following the host to a clear spot with the tent in the background. From here, Santana could see a structure somewhere in the distance, a building of some sorts. She had no idea what it could have been for, and was not really looking forward to finding out.

A few cameras were already rolling, a trio of crew members manning their stations. As she walked past, she spotted Marley at the back of one of them, and smirked, catching her attention.

"Haven't run screaming for the woods yet?" Santana asked, slowing next to her. The brunette bit her bottom lip, rocking on her heels.

"Well, I really need this job. So I guess we're stuck together."

"Still, crappy way to spend a morning, isn't it?" Santana said, smirking even more when she heard Rachel chatting with Puck, who looked about ready to run. "Especially if you have to deal with that."

"Rachel's alright." Marley shrugged. "Oh!" She said, as though just realising something. "I think Tina needs to see you and Quinn – she's touched up just about everyone else."

"Where is Other Chang, anyway?" Santana made a face, turning. "I needs ta repencil my eyebrows ons."

"She was in the tent, last I saw." Marley shrugged again, just as Santana's attention was stolen by the sight of two of the people she was looking for coming round the corner.

"…so I ran." Tina laughed, a hand pulling her makeup bag behind her. "So I think I beat your worst date ever."

"That's insane!" Brittany giggled, bouncing slightly as she walked, her eyes bright and blue in the morning sun. "I've never committed arson on my first date!"

"Not yet, you haven't." Tina joked, looking up and spotting Santana, who raised an eyebrow at her. "Santana! I was just looking for you! Where's Quinn?"

Thumbing behind her, she shared a glance with Marley, who waved her away. Santana walked up to the two of them, trying to control her breath and steps.

Alright, Lopez, be cool. Just say hi, and give her her drink. That's it. Say hi, and…

"Is that for me?" Brittany asked, when she was close enough. Grinning, she reached a hand out, taking it from her with a wink. "Thank you so much!"

Santana flushed, looking down suddenly. Her heart was in her throat, and she could still feel the tingles in her fingers from where they had brushed against hers. "H-hi."

Stuttering? Damnit, Lopez, you pussy.

"Hi Santana." She says, waiting and not leaving even when Tina reaches down to set up her mini-dresser. Santana dared a glance up, and found Brittany staring at her intesnely, taking a drink of her coffee. "Where's yours?"

"Oh, um. I finished mine already." Trying to regain her composure, she cleared her throat. "Don't worry, that one has your name on it."

"I know." Brittany says, making a big show of pointing to it. "It's written right here, silly."

"Right, of course." Santana blinks, turning to Tina to distract herself. "Seriously, Other Chang, do I need your help?"

"Calm down, Santana." Tina rolls her eyes, waving a powder brush haphazardly. "You just need a bit of blush. Trust me, I'm glad you and Quinn are the only ones left."

Santana bit her lip, all too aware of Brittany's presence next to her, as Tina picked up on her conversation from before. "So, Britt, you sure you don't want a bit more eyeliner?"

"Positive. I don't want too much and look goth. I'm as white as a pastry – it'll just make me look like someone punched me in the face."

"I don't think you'd look bad." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, and her eyes widened, as she realised that they had. Her fingers immediately began playing with each other, as she tried to dig herself out of the situation. "I mean, not like that would automatically make you look bad, or anything. I mean, you're so pretty, so I don't think that would matter, because it doesn't, and I think you'd look pretty even if you tried not to, like with clown makeup or something and dear god please stop me by saying something because this is really embarrassing." Santana covered her face with her hands, simultaneously wishing that Quinn was here to stop her verbal vomit, and wanting to kill her for putting her into this position.

Brittany giggled, making Santana look at her through the gaps in her fingers, her pale hand covering her mouth as the first hints of a blush tinged her cheeks. "Well, thank you, Santana." She calmed down, eyes sparkling prettily as she looked the latina in the eye. "I don't think anyone's ever told me I'm pretty so many times in one go."

Ignoring Tina's amused chuckle as she tugged at Santana's wrists so she could apply the makeup, Santana flushed even harder as she coaxed a smile onto her face. "Why not? I mean, it's true." She shrugged, trying to play it off, because oh my god, she was seriously planning to murder Fabray in her sleep.

"Alright, Santana, you're done. Just let me go check in with Quinn, then I think you guys need to head over to the rest so they can start. Oh, and here's your mic."

Santana offered the Asian a nod, realising too late that that left her with Brittany alone, away from the rest. Stalling for time, she tried to think of conversation starters as she clipped the tiny microphone to her collar, the receiver to her belt. Turning back to the blonde, she was surprised to find that she was still staring at Santana with interest. "What? Is there something on my face?"

Brittany shook her head, as she looked away. "Nothing. It's just…" She turned back to watch her again. "You're really pretty too."

A fluttering began at the back of her heart, and made heat rush to cheeks even harder than before. Coughing, she couldn't resist the smile forming on her face, as she bashfully held her gaze. "Um, thank you." She replies, their stare not breaking for a few moments, till Brittany coughed and took a sip of her drink.

Deciding that it'd be weird to just stare at the blonde – she had never been so close before – Santana tried to steer the conversation to safer waters, before Brittany reduced her to a nervous mess. "So what do you think they're gonna make us do? The numbers seem to have some sort of significance."

"I thought that too." Brittany said, her eyes narrowing as cradled her coffee. "Sixty is such an odd number."

"Yeah, I thought so too. Quinn thought it might be a grouping thing."

"It could be, but I don't think so." She shrugged. "It could be a timing, or something. There's sixty seconds in a minute, and sixty minutes in an hour."

Santana thought about it, and realised she did have a point. "Huh. You're right. It could be." Santana said, looking at Brittany in thoughtful awe, wondering how on earth she got to that point.

"Lord Tubbington used to peddle watches to neighbourhood cats. Then I caught him, and he stopped, but he never got over his obsession with clocks."

The deadpan way she said it would have made Santana confused, but it was the lightness in her eyes that let her know that she was joking. So she laughed, not catching the delighted surprise in the other woman's eyes.

"Interesting cat." Santana nodded, reaching into her bag to pull out her breakfast donut. She was hungry, and the coffee had woken her up enough to want to eat. She doesn't miss the way Brittany eyes her donut, an odd edge in the curve of her lips. "Um, Q bought me breakfast. You want half?"

"Oh, no, I couldn't." Brittany immediately refuses, waving her hands uselessly, one still preoccupied with her cup. "It's yours."

"No, it's fine. It has a smiley face on it. I feel my appetite going already."

"No, really." Brittany says, but Santana just continues to hold it out. "Are you sure?"

"Like I'm sure it's a miracle there's still pigs alive in the world because Quinn seems to be eating them all." Santana rolled her eyes, softening into a smile when Brittany reaches out to tear a piece off. "Oh, come on. I never pegged you for the polite eating type."

"'Polite eating'?" Brittany raised an eyebrow, confused. "What's that?"

Smirking, Santana carefully halved the pastry, giving the slightly bigger half to her. "Not doing that."

Brittany rolled her eyes. "I just thought it'd be rude to-"

"I told you, it's fine."

"-the contestants on my show if I pig out while they sweat." Brittany smirks, as Santana blushes again. "But thank you, again."

"You don't have to keep saying that, you know." Catching her adorably confused look, Santana clears her throat. "Thanking me. It's fine."

Before anyone could say anything else, Mercedes calls them over. "Satan, Brittany! We're starting!"

Santana took a bite of her pastry, liking the lime flavoured jelly on the top. As she walked over to join them, Brittany fell into step beside her, their arms brushing and sending tingles up Santana's body. She tried to not look over, though, keeping her gaze forward despite everything in her wanting to see the blonde's face.

"Finally." Mercedes huffed, facing her cast as Santana squeezed in between Quinn and Sam who stood at the end, Brittany falling in a step beside her. Idly, Santana held out her half of breakfast, offering it to her best friend, who pinched a bite from it, not bothering to take it from her hand. "We're rolling in a second, so just play along, alright?"

When everyone nodded, Mercedes madea gesture to someone next to her, who lifted a clapboard and began the countdown. Next to her, Brittany took another gulp of her drink, happily chewing on her mouthful of donut.

(Santana hadn't realised just how tall the fitness host was.)

"Hello, and welcome again to another exciting episode of Glee! Before we begin, we'd just like to thank all you viewers for tuning in last week – the numbers were off the chart, and our cast truly appreciated the support! Speaking of, let's let them say hi, why don't we?" Turning to face them, she winked, as they all waved at the cameras, unsure of what to do. "So, guys. What did you guys think of last week?"

"Quinn wouldn't stop whining about her muscles." Santana spoke up really quickly, ignoring the protest from beside her, as she took another bite of her pastry. "It must be because she was so out of shape."

The cast laughed, as Quinn grew red, a blush hot on her cheeks. "Well, at least I didn't spill my beer when I found out Sam had some comic on his wall!"

"Which brings me to ask, Trouty Mouth, what on earth made you think it was alright to make a scan of my comic and not tell me?" Santana leaned forward, talking past Brittany, who took a half-step back.

"I bought that online!" Sam held his hands up, pouting when Santana scoffed. "I'm serious! It's been signed by the writers!"

"Right. You're never borrowing my comics ever again."

"Wait, Santana, you read comics?" Mike asks, stepping out of line to make eye contact with her. Santana's eyes widen, as she straightens.

"What? I need my daily dose of lady-lovin'." She mutters, stuffing the rest of her donut in her mouth. When it looked like no one else was going to say anything, Santana rolled her eyes. "Don't give me that look. Rachel was reading 50 Shades of Grey!"

"I was not!" The brunette bursts out, but her red cheeks said otherwsie. As the cast snickered and exchanged glances, Rachel stared at Santana. "And where did you hear that?"

"Here and there. And also, that not-really cryptic tweet about taking out chains."

"I was talking about the ones on my bikes!"

"Sure you were." Santana smirked, even as Brittany elbowed her. Looking up quizzically, she found a pout on the blonde's face. "What?"

"That was mean." Brittany said simply. "Don't mind her, Rachel. It's alright even if bike chains are unsanitary. You washed them first, right? They'd stain your bedsheets."

Santana cracked up while Rachel huffed indignantly, everyone else stifling their own laughter.

"Laugh while you can, but I have actually been readying myself for today's competition." Rachel decrees, crossing her arms imperiously.

"Really? So where'd you hide your stilts? Or are you planning to ask Finn to carry you around on his shoulders so you can see the top of everyone's heads-"

"Santana." When Santana looks up, she sees Brittany's eyes stormy and decidedly not happy. "Apologise."

"What did I do? I'm just pointing out the fact that the Hobbit would need help to reach the height requirements that'll be her passport out of the Shire-"

"Santana."

Something in Santana curdles then, and she decides she never wants to see Brittany mad at her again. Or pouting. Ignoring the butterflies in her stomach, Santana coughed, as she leaned forward, wondering when the hell she lost every single one ounce of cool she owned.

"I'm sorry, Berry."

"Why, Santana, I've never heard you say that before-"

"That you'll probably never grow anymore!" Santana adds on, ducking behind Quinn, who yelps and tries really hard not to spill whatever's left of her coffee.

"Santana!"

"San!" Her best friend reaches back, grabbing a fistful of Santana's hair and pulling her back in front. "There are cameras!"

"What? They'll edit it out!"

"No we won't, Satan." Mercedes cackled, as everyone else watched in awe and disbelief. "Serves you right."

"Alright, alright, ow!" Santana yelped, rubbing her scalp. "My hair is not a weave, bitch!"

"Then behave yourself!" Quinn hissed, leaning in close. "Or you're on your own today."

"Alright, seeing as how Lopez insists on hogging all the screentime today, why don't we move on?" Puck yells loudly, as an eyebrow cocked. "I'm especially looking forward to seeing what penalty she and Fabray have to do when they lose today."

"Do you really think it'll be that easy?" Sam spoke up, sharing a grin with Quinn, who just rolled her eyes. Santana was still too busy hiding behind her friend and not looking at Brittany. To be honest, she was beginning to feel bad about ragging on Manhands.

Great. So now I'm a jerk too. Way to go, loser.

"I think we've seen last week how crazy they are in a team together." Artie chuckled, as Finn joined in the conversation too.

"If it's individual, we all have a shot guys."

"I'll show the audience my abs if you'll tell us they're not on the same team." Mike offered.

"So just tell us what the task is, Mercedes. I'm ready to show off my Sugar-shine." Sugar did a little jiggy as everyone gave her a weird look.

"Alright, alright. Your tasks today are in that building behind us." Pointing to the structure Santana had spotted before, Mercedes began to explain. "You'll be split up into groups again today, and as a team, your ultimate goal is to leave."

"Wait, what?" Mike asked, scratching the back of his head. "You mean we'll be trapped in there?"

"You'll have to do the penalty in there, yes."

"Do we get a hint of what it is?" Rachel asks, staring at the building.

"Of course not." Mercedes smirked. "First, groupings!"

"I call dibs on Q!" Santana raised a hand, as everyone else's eyes widened.

Quinn, on the other hand, scoffed. "No thank you. I don't have enough coffee in me to deal with you today." She smirks, as Santana feigned offence.

"Fabray, I'm appalled!" Santana swooned. "You'll leave your oldest friend behind in the dust?"

"Alright, the two of you!" Mercedes said past a laugh. "That's enough of that. We've already decided for you."

"Free country, my ass." Puck coughed, crossed his arms.

"Anyway!" Mercedes continued threateningly. "First group, Rachel, Sam, Puck, Quinn, you're the CEOs."

"Wait, there's a theme? Awesome!" Sam exclaimed, high-fiving Quinn as they shuffled over to form a little circle separate of the group.

"Yes, we get Quinn!" Puck placed a hand on her shoulder, making her sidestep cleanly to avoid it, hiding her face behind her cup.

"We keep getting paired up, you and I." Rachel commented, as Quinn grimaced slightly. Dear Lord, she thought, looking over her little group. Let me keep my patience.

Somehow, Sam and Puck had gotten into a playful scuffle, with Puck held in a headlock by the shaggy-haired blonde. At the same time, Rachel was doing a few jump-squats to psych herself up. Inwardly, Quinn sighed, finishing off her coffee.

Or my sanity.

Meanwhile, Santana barely glanced over, as her heartbeat thudded in her ears. Brittany had shuffled in closer to accommodate for the space, and now they were standing so close that their arms pressed up against each other. Brittany was just wearing a tank top and some dark tights, which meant that there was a lot of exposed skin to be pressed up against.

Holy warm skin, Batman.

"Second group, you're the workers! Sugar, Mike, and Finn." Mercedes called out, directing them to stand further away. "And that leaves us with Brittany, Santana and Artie!"

"Why do I get the feeling I won't like what we are?" Artie remarked airily as he walked over to join the two women.

Mercedes waved a hand. "Please. Being the janitors aren't that bad."

Santana had to resist the urge to facepalm. Cursing in Spanish, she glared over at the rest, who were laughing at their expense.

Brittany, on the other hand, was enjoying the role play, sharing a laugh with Artie, who apparently found it funny too. The only person who looked remotely disturbed by the notion of it was Santana, who smirked humourlessly as she raised a hand. "I declare this to be completely racist, on terms of my ethnicity. And surpassing my own brand of racism towards Asian 1 over there, and Other Chang." She thumbed over to Mike, who gave her a weird look. "I call you that in my head." A pause. "Sometimes."

"Oh suck it up, Santana. It was based on the numbers you all picked, anyway."

"Are you going to explain that?" Quinn asked, tucking a hand into a back pocket of her fitted pants. "Or are we going to just have to find out later on?"

"You both know how to take the fun out of a show." Mercedes rolled her eyes. "For now, all of you have to get changed into the costumes we have for you, and then we'll meet back at the building. Go, shoo!"

"And, main camera, cut!" Someone called out from behind the cameras, and everyone began to relax. Santana, on the other hand, sighed, as she made to walk over to her best friend, who was already searching for her amongst the group.

Before she could, however, a very warm and soft hand caught her wrist. "Uh…" Santana trailed off, realising that it was Brittany, and she wasn't really sure how to react now. The blonde was biting down on her bottom lip, and she wasn't too sure if that meant Brittany was nervous, or something else she didn't want to linger on.

"Santana, wait." Brittany started, stepping closer to her, her other hand fidgeting with the cup still in her hand. "Please don't be mad at me."

Santana's nose scrunched, as she tried to focus on what Brittany was saying, instead of the warmth still wrapped around her wrist. "About what, Brittany?"

"I don't know." Brittany's eyes darted away, before coming back to lock with hers. "I think I might have overstepped my boundaries before. When I made you apologise to Rachel."

"Oh, that." Santana made a face, wondering how on earth that made Brittany think she was mad at her. Embarrassed, sure. But mad? "It wasn't a big deal."

"Still. I'm sorry." Brittany bit her lips, giving Santana a look that nearly melted her. "I shouldn't have done that on camera."

Scuffing the toe of her shoe against the ground, Santana shrugged. "Don't be. I'm…honestly, I'm sorry too. I realise I might have taken it too far."

"It was pretty mean of you." Brittany said, making Santana smirk up at her incredulously.

"Go back to being sorry." She said, laughing when Brittany did, grinning at her. "But seriously though. Don't be sorry for things like that." Not breaking eye contact, she slowly rotated her wrist, moving her hand to grasp her palm. "I sometimes need someone to yell at me to remember how to be nice."

"Well, let's both agree to be sorry here." Brittany said, bashfully swinging their hands together. At the motion, Santana couldn't help but play along, giggling slightly. She nodded at the blonde. "But you still gotta be nice to Rachel." Brittany threatened, knocking their clasped hands against Santana's hip.

"Ok, ok. I'll try." Santana rolled her eyes.

"Pinky promise?"

And with anyone else, Santana would have scoffed and called them a fifth-grader, but with Brittany, she couldn't help but intertwine their pinkies, repeating an oath she and Quinn used to make all the time. "Pinky promise."

"Good." Brittany smiled, dropping their hands, but not their pinkies. "So we're janitors, huh?"

"God, I'd nearly forgotten about that." Santana scoffed, slumping her shoulders slightly. "If they make me clean anything, I will hunt them down and shove those mops up where the sun don't shine."

Brittany couldn't resist her laughter, tugging Santana into walking with her, headed towards the tent, where everyone else had already congregated to figure out sizes. "I don't think it'd be anything that bad. It wouldn't make for good tv."

"Yeah, well. It would, the way Quinn does it." Santana snorted. "She's like a horde of Mexican maids on her own."

"Really? You guys room together, right?"

"Yeah, but we sleep separately, duh. Quinn says I kick. Well, she snores." Santana squints. "Actually, it's more of a spatial issue."

"How so?"

"Quinn has this thing about cleanliness, like I said. Everything is really elegant and vintage and clean." Santana rolled her eyes. "Me, as long as the important stuff aren't being stepped on, I'm cool."

"And what's important?" Brittany held the flap back for her, as she stepped through, Santana tugging lightly on their still interlocked pinkies.

"My bed." Santana chuckled, threading carefully amongst the wires. "Q can't believe how little I have in my bedroom."

"So where do you keep your comics?" Brittany asked, a sly grin on her face, and Santana nearly stumbles over a cable.

Blushing, she eyes Brittany with wide eyes, embarrassed about her hobby. "Uh."

Brittany just laughs, clearly not expecting an answer. "I'm teasing." As they join the rest in the cleared space at the back of the tent, she leans in to whisper into Santana's ear. "You can just show me next time."

Santana blushes even harder at that, as Brittany's warm breath hits the shell of her ear, making her shiver. Later, she will punch herself for being so obvious, but right now, with Brittany leaning back with that bright look in her eyes, she can't help but feel anything more than bashful.

(Not that she'd ever admit that to anyone.)

Clearing her throat, she catches Sam's eyebrow waggle from over Brittany's shoulder, and she immediately searched for a distraction. "We should probably get changed."

"Yeah, we should." Brittany winked, slowly releasing their pinkies as someone calls for her from beyond them. "Bet you'd look sexy even in a uniform."

Santana nearly faceplants.