*BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP*

"Santana," said Rachel sleepily, "Turn off your alarm."

"Okay," mumbled Santana, eyes still closed, "Just get off my arm." Rachel shifted her weight so Santana could extract her arm from under Rachel. Then Santana leaned over and shut off the alarm clock. She sat up in bed rubbing her eyes. Santana then looked at Rachel, who looked back over at her. Their eyes widened in horror as they realized that they had woken up in the same bed together.

"AHHH!" they both screamed.

"Berry, what the hell are you doing in my bed?" asked Santana, freaking out. She looked down and was relieved to find out she was fully dressed.

"Me? You were the one practically spooning me," said Rachel, scrambling out of the bed as fast as she could.

"What's going on?" asked Kurt, running into Santana's bedroom after hearing the screaming. He, unknowingly, had a thick handlebar mustache drawn on his face in permanent marker. "Rachel, did you sleep in here?"

"What the hell happened last night?" asked Santana, looking from Kurt to Rachel, "And where's Brittany?"


EARLIER THAT WEEK

"Kurt," said Rachel, "Thank goodness you baked all those desserts. I brought them in for the cast and crew, and now everybody loves me."

Santana, Brittany, and Kurt all looked at her skeptically.

"Well... they definitely tolerate me much more now," said Rachel, still proud.

"Did they cast your understudy yet?" asked Kurt.

"Not yet," said Rachel, "We're still looking. I hate having to help cast some fame-hungry vulture looking to viciously rip my dream away from me the minute I show any sign of weakness."

"Well, I guess that's one way of looking at it..." said Kurt.

"Kurt," said Rachel, "I am playing Fanny Brice on Broadway. I'm the envy of every musically inclined Jewish girl this side of the Hudson."

"Well, as much as I'd like to stay and explore the full depth of your champagne problems," said Santana, standing up, "I have to get to the bar."

"What?" said Brittany, "You just got back from the diner, like ten minutes ago."

"Don't remind me," said Santana, visibly tired, "There's nothing quite like having multiple jobs in the service industry, but the bills won't pay themselves. See you guys later."

"Bye," they all chorused.


"Are you sure you're up for this?" asked Brittany.

"Yeah," said Santana, "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, you must be exhausted. You've worked, like, 50 hours this week," said Brittany.

"That's not so much," said Santana.

"It's only Wednesday," said Brittany.

"Oh... right," said Santana, "I'll be fine, besides I want to capitalize on having the apartment to ourselves for a change. I haven't had a movie night that hasn't featured a musical in forever. I always get outvoted by Midler and Streisand."

"Okay, but you can't burn the candle at both ends forever," said Brittany, concerned, "Eventually wax just gets everywhere and you burn out."

"Noted," said Santana, nodding.

*Ding!*

"That's the popcorn," said Brittany, "I'll get it."

"Okay," said Santana, "I'll be here, alert, and waiting to get my 'Legally Blonde' on."

By the time Brittany got back to the couch Santana had fallen fast asleep and was snoring lightly.


"I'm the rainbow," Santana muttered in her sleep, her brow wrinkled, "I'm the rainbow..." Brittany couldn't help but smile at her cuteness, before nudging her.

Santana suddenly awoke, startled, "Did I miss it?"

"Well there's still like, a minute and half of credits left...but it's pretty much over," said Brittany.

"Crap, I'm sorry Britt," said Santana, "This week has been insane. I've had to cover like four different people's shifts because there's a stomach bug going around. ...I'm starting to think I'm over employed."

"Me too," said Brittany, "Maybe you should cut back your hours next week, give yourself some time to recharge."

Santana nodded, "I could definitely use some down time."


Rachel and Santana were walking back home together after running into each other on the subway. Rachel was coming from rehearsals and Santana was coming from the diner.

"Trying to balance Funny Girl rehearsals and school is running me ragged," said Rachel, "And you should see the girl they're considering as my understudy, she's awful. She's like seven feet tall and has crazy eyes. If she's the understudy, you should prepare to start fearing for my life."

"Don't you think that's a tad dramatic, Berry," said Santana.

"No, I don't," said Rachel, "You should see this girl. She has 'All About Eve' written all over her... But, I managed to persuade Campion to hold another round of auditions, so I was thinking, maybe you could audition. It would be amazing to have an understudy who I know I can trust not to conspire against me."

"Me? Are you kidding? This is Broadway, not a small town high school play," said Santana, "They're not going to want a Latina with a perfect nose and no Jewish lineage as your understudy."

"No, my director is really interested in making this a fresh take on Funny Girl. There's no point in reviving it and just making a carbon copy of Barbra's masterpiece. So, we're playing with it a bit. It would be great exposure for you, and I know you're interested in getting into Broadway, Anita," said Rachel, attempting a wink.

"I don't want to make a fool of myself up there," said Santana, shaking her head, "Won't it be weird that I look nothing like Fanny Brice?"

"You won't make a fool of yourself, trust me. Campion's favorite movie musical is the Cinderella with Brandy and Whitney Houston. If you recall, in it, Victor Garber and Whoopi Goldberg had a biological son that was Asian."

"That version of Cinderella was flawless," said Santana, thinking it over.

"Exactly, and it worked because everyone was so good in their part. It's all about who's talented enough and who has the stage presence to handle the role. The biggest problem we've had with the girls that auditioned is that none of them have been able to carry a joke. And that's not an issue for you at all, no one delivers a line like you," said Rachel.

Santana still looked skeptical.

"Come on, if you got this part, you could quit the diner, at least for a few months. Then you'd never run into Dani, you wouldn't have to interact with the general public, and you'd get paid for working on your craft. There are no downsides," said Rachel.

"I guess I could try out," said Santana, giving in, "Acting parts have been really hard to come by lately..." Then she pointed at Rachel, "But it's on you if this blows up in my face."

"I take full responsibility," said Rachel, smiling, "But, it won't".


"Santana's going to audition to be my understudy in Funny Girl," said Rachel, as they returned to the loft.

"Really?" asked Brittany, a little surprised Santana would willingly play second fiddle to Rachel.

"I know it's a crazy idea, right?" said Santana, "It would be a total mismatch casting."

"Well, actually...not really," said Brittany, "You're the funniest person I know, girl or boy."

"But I don't fit the physical description of the part at all, and my voice isn't really suited for Broadway," said Santana.

"First of all, that's racist," said Brittany, "And, second, you murdered your part in West Side Story."

"Exactly," said Rachel, nodding, "Natalie Wood was a Jew playing a Puerto Rican when she was Maria, this is like, the reverse. You can do this. "

Santana looked to Brittany for confirmation. She nodded in agreement.

"Look out Broadway," said Santana, sighing, "Here I come..."


Rachel and Santana were standing at the audience entrance to the auditorium.

"See that girl over by the stairs?" asked Rachel, "That's Carmen, you're main competition."

"Holy shit," said Santana, checking out the girl, "Lady Sasquatch? Really?"

"I know right?" said Rachel, "You should see her with heels on. I swear, she bumped her head on a stage light."

"I don't doubt it," said Santana, discreetly sizing up the competition.

"Seriously, if you get this, you might be saving my life, Santana," said Rachel, "I did some background investigating, and I'm pretty sure Carmen has a history of backstabbing."

"So do you," said Santana, dismissive.

"No, I mean literally," said Rachel, nodding as Santana gave her a skeptical look.

"Ooh, they're starting, I have to get out there," said Rachel, "Just look at me if you get nervous, and remember the choreography I showed you, it'll totally set you apart. Good luck!"

"Sure, Berry," said Santana, rolling her eyes, trying to look unperturbed.


"Santana?" said Brittany, answering her phone, "Aren't you about to audition?"

"Britt, I'm freaking out," said Santana, whispering into her phone.

"Why? You go on auditions all of the time," said Brittany.

"For like, toothpaste commercials and bad telenovelas," said Santana, "This is Broadway. This counts. If I get this, it'll prove that I'm good, like professional singer good. And that I didn't drop a full ride to college in order to follow a dream that has a snowball's chance in hell of coming true."

"Santana," said Brittany, "You're putting too much pressure on this. This isn't going to prove you're good enough to live your dreams. You already know that. No matter what happens today, you made the right choice leaving school. New York is where you belong, and you're going to have an amazing career here."

"How do you know?" asked Santana.

"Because," said Brittany, smiling, "I believe in you."

"Thanks, Britt... I just wish..." said Santana, "I wish you were here."

"Okay, one second..." said Brittany, her end of the phone went silent.

"What? Brittany? ...Hello?" asked Santana, wondering if she had been hung up on. A few minutes later, someone tapped her on the shoulder.

"Britt!" said Santana, after turning around, "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you audition," said Brittany, "And provide moral support, if you had a freak out."

Santana hugged Brittany, "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Well you won't ever have to," said Brittany, smiling, " Now, you're going to go out there and knock them dead, because you're Santana freaking Lopez, and you haven't met a song you couldn't kick square in the crotch."

"You're right," said Santana nodding, "You're right."

"And if you get nervous there's an old trick..."

"I know, picture everyone in their underwear," said Santana, nodding.

"No, you perv," said Brittany, "Picture everyone with a mustache."

"Really?" said Santana.

"It works," said Brittany.

"Santana Lopez," a voice called from inside the auditorium.

"Okay, now get out there," said Brittany, "I'll be right here watching. You're going to be great!"

As Santana turned to leave Brittany gave her a quick smack on the ass, an old pre-solo tradition between them.


"Britt!" said Santana, beaming after she finished her audition. She ran up to Brittany and jumped into her arms in celebration. Brittany twirled her around and then set her down .

"Did you see?" said Santana, unable to stop smiling, "How was it? I thought it went really well. I think I might have a chance."

"You were amazing," said Brittany, "Like, I can't feel my face amazing. They'd be crazy not to pick you."

"Really?" said Santana, "I mean, they probably have tons of girls who fit the role better than me... I'm probably not gonna get it..."


THE NEXT DAY

"I got it," said Santana, smiling as she hung up her phone, "Although I'm not entirely convinced this isn't some sort of affirmative action thing ...but, I'll take it. "

"Yes! It's going to be so much fun to work with someone I won't alienate with my aggressive thirst for perfection," said Rachel, clapping happily.

"Congratulations Santana," said Kurt, going into the kitchen to get celebratory glasses of champagne.

"I'm so proud of you," said Brittany, hugging Santana.

"Thank you, Britt," said Santana, "For everything. I wouldn't have got here without you."


"So, what did you think of her audition?" asked Kurt, as he and Rachel poured champagne in the kitchen.

"She went with a pop arrangement of 'Don't Rain on my Parade'," said Rachel, "Which was risky. Die hard Broadway fans might have torn her apart for it. But all in all she scored an 8.2 on the Rachel Berry Solo Performance Scale."

"Solid," said Kurt, nodding, "I'm proud of you Rachel, your high school self might have viewed Santana trying out for your understudy as betrayal."

"I like to think I'm a bit more mature than that," said Rachel, "Besides, it's still clear who's the student and who's the master when it comes to the role of Fanny Brice."


"Hey Berry," said Santana, answering her phone, "Congratulate me, I just quit the diner. No more salt shaker refill duty for me."

"I'm having a major emergency," said Rachel, ignoring Santana's news, "I'm at the cover shoot, for New York Magazine, and I'm surrounded by super models. I don't know what I was thinking, I don't belong here. I know we've done a lot of work on my self image over the years, but next to them I'm just a short Jewish girl with a big nose who will never..."

"Rachel, Rachel," said Santana, "Calm down. You're the reason this whole shoot is happening. Those models are just your back up bitches. I bet you look great... but maybe ask for some five-inch heels, just to be safe... Oh, and if you're feeling nervous just picture them-"

"Santana, these women make a career out of looking good naked," said Rachel, cutting her off, "I don't think picturing them in their underwear will inspire much confidence."

"No, picture them with mustaches," said Santana, "Smart huh? Britt thought of it."

"That's ridic...oh wow," said Rachel.

"I know, it works right?" said Santana.

"Totally," said Rachel, "Uh oh, the photographer already has a mustache."

"Hmm..." said Santana, "Uni-brow?"

"Sporting one of those as well," said Rachel.

"Comically small hat?" suggested Santana.

"Are you secretly here?" asked Rachel.

"No," said Santana, "Just relax and enjoy your moment. You've earned it. I have to go. I have extension dance class, but you'll be fine. Remember, you're the cover girl, Berry. Own it."

"Thanks Santana," said Rachel, "Can I text you if I get nervous again?"

"If you must," said Santana.


"Planning this whole big, romantic gesture thing is insane," said Brittany, "The more I investigate things to do, the more different things I find, and now I just have all this mismatched stuff and I don't know how I'm going to put it all together."

"What do you have so far?" asked Kurt.

Brittany got out a large 3 -inch binder from under the couch, mislabeled, 'Lord Tubbington's Cat Diseases: A Visual Reference.'

"I thought I'd title my idea binder as something Santana would never look through," explained Brittany, "In case she ever found my hiding spot." The binder made a loud thud when Brittany dropped it on the table. Kurt picked it up.

"Maybe instead of trying to make everything work together, you should narrow it down," said Kurt, thumbing through Brittany's idea binder.

"How?" asked Brittany.

"Um, maybe eliminate the aquatic options," said Kurt, "Those have the most potential to go wrong. Also the airborne section may be out of your budget."

"True..." said Brittany, "It's just, I'm having a hard time deciding what to do. This has to go perfectly. I don't want to mess it up."

"You can't," said Kurt, "Trust me, no matter what you do, it's going to be great, and you and Santana will end up together."

"How do you know?" asked Brittany.

"Because, I've seen the way you two are around each other, and you're one of those couples," said Kurt.

"What couples?"

"The kind that it doesn't matter who you're dating or what your relationship status is, you'll always be the most important person in the world to one another," said Kurt.

Brittany nodded, "You're right, we belong together. I'm just stressing because so much is going on this week."

"Why? What else is happening?" asked Kurt.

"Well, at work, they're doing these performance reviews," said Brittany, "I wasn't worried about it at first, but they fired two people yesterday because they weren't up to code."

"What?" said Kurt.

"Yeah, this dance studio is ridiculously elite. I mean, people sign up for the waiting list before their kid's even born. Apparently it's a pipeline to Julliard."

"Woah... I'm not trying to be rude or anything," said Kurt, "But how did you get hired at a place like that?"

"I may have fudged the old resume a little," said Brittany, "Okay, a lot... if anyone asks, I've been on tour with Beyonce."

Kurt raised his eyebrows.

"But I'm still a really good teacher and a kick ass dancer. I just have to whip those kids into shape by next Thursday, and I can keep my job," said Brittany.

"I'm sure you can. If it makes you feel any better, you're not the only one stressed out. I'm about two weeks of work behind at vogue-dot-com, I have a couple of papers due, and every time I see a bowtie it reminds me of Blaine and I become emotionally compromised," said Kurt, "So I'm having a bit of a hell week myself." Then, his phone buzzed. He looked at it and frowned.

"What is it?" asked Brittany.

"Rachel's having a full on panic attack about her Funny Girl magazine shoot. She's convinced they're going to crop her out because her shots weren't good enough," said Kurt, "Looks like all of the roommates are at stress level orange... Ugh, Santana's weird military lingo is rubbing off on me..."

"We should do something to relax, you know, relieve the tension," said Brittany.

Kurt nodded, "It just can't make me hung over tomorrow, I have work."

"That gives me an awesome idea," said Brittany, smiling.


When she came out of the subway on her way home, Santana's phone began buzzing like crazy. She checked it.

*You have 48 new messages from Berry*

She rolled her eyes and pressed ignore.


"Hey, guys," said Santana as she walked into the apartment, "You'll never guess what..."

Kurt and Brittany were giggling on the couch, watching the TV, which was turned off.

"What's going on?" asked Santana.

"We lost the remote," said Kurt.

"So you decided... to watch the blank screen...?" asked Santana.

"It's a little slow at first," said Kurt, "but once you get into it. It's amazing."

"What is he talking about?" asked Santana, sitting next to Brittany on the couch, "Is this some sort of weird post break up thing?"

"Hey, it's my little Santana Banana," said Brittany, smiling. Santana looked at Brittany, confused. "Oh, I'm sorry, not mine. You're your own, very strong and independent Santana Banana... But I'm still taller than you."

"Are you guys high?" said Santana.

"No," said Kurt, he turned to Brittany and whispered loudly, "I told you she'd have no idea we're high."

"Berry's gonna be so pissed when she gets home," said Santana, shaking her head.

"Santana's back!" exclaimed Rachel, appearing from the bathroom, "We found a way to make everything magically better... drugs!"

"Or not," said Santana, "How come whenever I come back after leaving the three of you alone, none of you are sober anymore?"

"I think the answer's pretty clear," said Rachel, "We're the fun ones."

"Oh yeah, you're just a bucket of laughs," said Santana, looking at Rachel.

"I saved you the corner pieces," said Brittany, holding up a plate of brownies. "If you'd like to join us."

"You know me too well," said Santana, shaking her head and taking a brownie.


-Two batches of brownies into the night-

Santana and Brittany were lying together on the couch.

"Want to know a secret?"

"Always."

"Sometimes, when we're alone together. I pretend we never broke up, and you're still my girlfriend."

The other smiled and laughed.

"Oh, god, that sounded pathetic, didn't it?"

"No, it's just, I'm doing that right now."


PRESENT DAY

"And where's Brittany?" said Santana. She, Kurt, and Rachel began looking around the loft for Brittany, hoping she'd have some answers about what happened last night.

"Britt!" said Santana, after finding Brittany lying in the empty bathtub, "Are you okay?"

"I think so..." said Brittany.

"Why did you sleep in the tub?" asked Santana.

"I don't know..." said Brittany, looking up at them, "Is it my imagination, or has Kurt suddenly grown facial hair?"

"What?" said Kurt, rushing to look in the mirror, "Oh. My. God. I can't go to work like this. I'll be laughed out of the office." He began scrubbing his face furiously with a loofah, trying to get rid of his sharpie mustache.

"Which one of you did this to me?" asked Kurt.

"I don't think I did," said Rachel.

"Don't look at me," said Santana.

"...I might be able to find out," said Brittany holding up her video camera, which she just discovered she had with her in the tub.


Santana, Rachel, and Kurt crowded around the TV screen, as Brittany plugged in her camera.

"Remember, viewer discretion is advised," said Brittany. She pressed play, trepidatiously.

It started with a shot of Brittany's face. She was holding the camera up in order to film herself.

"This is Brittany S. Pierce, documenting what happens when theater kids stop being polite, and start getting high."

She turned the camera over at Kurt and Rachel.

"Do you ever wonder if you're a mental patient, and everyone around you is just a figment of your imagination?" asked Kurt.

"I am now," said Rachel, poking Kurt as if checking he was really there.

"Oh god..." said Rachel, covering her face with her hands.


They then fast forwarded through a twenty minute segment featuring Kurt, putting all of his bowties through a shredder and laughing hysterically.


Santana and Kurt were lying on the floor next to each other, head to foot.

"But I don't think that would work on me," said Kurt, "I look good with a mustache."

"You can't grow a mustache," said Santana.

"Yes I can," said Kurt,

"When have you ever had a mustache?" asked Santana, sitting up.

"You don't know my whole life," said Kurt.

Santana still didn't look convinced.

"Fine I'll prove it to you," said Kurt. He got up, found a sharpie marker, and stumbled off to the bathroom.

"I did it to myself?" said Kurt, watching the tape, disbelievingly.


They also fast forwarded through Rachel holding a shampoo bottle and giving a ridiculously long acceptance speech for her first Tony award. As well as Brittany playing poker with Lord Tubbington.


Rachel was walking around the apartment whipping curtains back, looking into the different rooms as Brittany followed her with the camera.

"Santana," yelled Rachel, when she got to Santana's bedroom. Santana was lying on her bed with her eyes closed. "Santana, I can't find my room. I looked everywhere."

"Shh Berry," said Santana, not opening her eyes, "I worked like 500 hours this week, just let me sleep."

"But I need to sleep, too," said Rachel.

"Sleep here then," said Santana, rolling over and facing away from Rachel, "Just be quiet." Rachel then climbed into the bed.

"Oh thank god nothing happened," said Santana, immensely relieved.

"I am never getting high again," said Rachel.


"So, you spent the night with Rachel Berry," said Brittany. She and Santana were alone together in the loft.

"Can we please never speak of that again?" asked Santana, "At least one good thing came out of it. Berry's finally stopped trying to convince me that I should want to date her."

"Is that good because it's Rachel or because you're not looking to date anyone?" asked Brittany.

"Because it's Rachel," said Santana, confused as to why Brittany would even ask that.

"Good, because, I was wondering," said Brittany, "Do you have any plans next Friday?"