Author's Note: Sorry for this annoying little wait guys. I finished moving up to Seattle so I can finally relax. I didn't even know what that meant a week ago. Everything's good now. One thing that's irking me is my pace. I feel a little slow in my chapters and I hate that so I'm gonna work on breezing by episodes but without cutting chapter length. This fic isn't all about the canon. I like to show more of what happened while canon happened too. This chapter I enjoyed because it allowed me to explore some things that gave some characters more depth. I loved writing the dialogue too. Glad Glee's back on FOX and so far so good but last episode the music was kind of lacking. The music is the reason I watch besides the awesome characters. Anyways, you guys left some great reviews last time and I need to say it again it means A LOT. I'm not a greedy person, never have and I will never will be. But just knowing that at least a handful of people appreciate my writing? It's flattering. Also I just want to shout out Drew55 who reviewed throughout the story while reading it in a sitting. Your reviews make me smile! I hope you guys enjoy the chapter.

Chapter 11. Enlighten Me

Eject. Eject—shit, wrong button. Okay, there. Santana don't. Just roll it down a little further. That's mine! Ignore the cries of weeping children and just do it. Clank, clank, clank. Hallelujah.

"That was my favorite Hannah CD!" A whine.

"I can't believe you just did that, San." A reprimand.

Out of my side mirror, I took in the marvelous sight of the silver underside of the biggest monstrosity of music ever known to man flip and drag along asphalt. Much better.

I felt two pairs of baby blue eyes shooting icy daggers into my neck when I leaned my head back into the car. The one in my rear view mirror, I wasn't too worried about. But the one to my right? That one summoned a demon of guilt that could easily lash my stomach into submission. I donned my queen bitch smirk and set my jaw. Not giving in this time. Throwing an eight year old's CD out the window is completely dignified.

"What?" I asked these power twins whose gaze seemed to sneak up on me and slip into my skin. "I just can't listen to Miss Carolina sing about the wonders of being bisexual anymore."

We'd listened to "Best of Both Worlds" twenty times. Twenty. Fucking. Times. I can't even—

"My CD is ruined! I spent my entire allowance on that CD!" Pint sized Polly Pocket shrieked into my ear.

She'd unfastened her seat belt and now deemed it necessary to balance a thigh on the center console of my car where she waved her hands manically at me. In between trying to keep us from smashing into the Prius in front of us and avoiding Brittany's half wounded, half pissed-beyond-recognition-that-I'm-sure-I'll-never-see-her-naked-again-face, I think I did okay. That is...until Britt unleashed the full weight of her stare and I felt a little quiver in my thighs. Damn it.

I caved and stole a glance at the Pierce sisters. Alison's glare would have been so unconvincing if Brittany hadn't have been right behind her; backing that shit up. They were in it together. With just one look, Britt began to peel off my stoic mask layer by freaking layer.

So about that giving in thing...

"Christmas will be here soon, smurf. I'll see what I can do for you," I said with a little monotone coated on.

Brittany's gaze made my skin buzz, like electricity was snapping off of it. Inevitably she finally caught my eye long enough for me to get the memo. Not good enough. Let's do better.

I sighed my defeat for everyone to hear. "I promise I'll get you another, okay? Just...promise not to listen to it all the time. Listening to that shi—stuff is as damaging as sniffing glue in a paper bag."

The eight year old tossed me an a thousand watt smile before sliding to the back. God, she was kind of freaking adorable. How could I ever say no to either of these girls?

"And if you promise to leave a barricade of shoes in front of the door every time Artie comes over, I'll even consider hooking a girl up with one of those bedazzled microphones Rachel Berry loves so much," I told her reflection in my rear view. Beamed again. So easy to please. Brittany's palm slapped over my thigh. Ouch.

"Whose Rachel Berry?" Ali asked suddenly, frowning.

"An Israeli drag queen," Brittany answered without missing a beat.

I bit my lip to discourage the laugh forming in my throat and braked at a red light. My newly manicured fingernails tapped over the steering wheel.

"What's a bisexual, anyway?"

Nails stopped tapping. Um...

"It's like, abstinence," Brittany broke the silence while reaching over to nonchalantly change the radio station. "Like saying goodbye to your sex life."

Well you had to give her credit for trying...

"That's a sin in itself," I mumbled to myself and relaxed in my seat. Brittany looked up from the radio to smirk at me knowingly. I returned it. Seeing her naked is so still on the table for later. Maybe even literally on the table.

I could see the wheels turning in the smaller blonde's head and I worried. That face wanted answers. Answers to sex. Kids were too curious. Alison didn't even know what abstinence meant. I sure as hell didn't have any siblings so what did I even plan on saying?

"Ah yeah!" Brittany piped up the second a Britney Spears song started playing. Dial turned all the way to the right. "Slave 4 U" hit the bass.

Wait for it...

Wait for it...

"It's Britney, bitch," both blondes voice's rang out at the same time.

Brittany turned in her seat to snap a disapproving look on her sister and narrowed her eyes.

"One, language. And two, I'm Brittany, you're Jamie Lynn."

"I don't wanna be the pregnant one!" Ali bellowed.

"You won't be the pregnant one, Alison. Babies don't come unless you ask the stork for them. They're kind of like genies but white and not Aruba or whatever," she explained this in an informative tone.

The logic there...I can't even bother to question it. Even with all the crazy things Brittany said, she usually sounded right. She believed it.

All you people look at me like I'm a little girl
Well did you ever think it'd be okay for me to step into this world
Always saying little girl don't step into the club
Well I'm just tryin' to find out why cause dancing's what I love

Brittany began gyrating in her seat in a way that made me force my eyes on the road. When I checked my mirror to look behind me, I found Alison doing the exact same thing. These Pierce women, I swear. They seemed to carry the energy of a Red Bull truck underneath the balls of their feet; waiting for just the right moment to explode in self-righteous bouts of singing and hypnotic dancing that they only saw as fun. Unsurprisingly, their mother, Lea Pierce, was her own little rain dance goddess—free-spirited, lively, enticing. This was what it meant to wine and dine with the Pierces. They were these women who cracked open the vault of your heart and made you want to give them all your jewels. I gave mine willingly; fell prey to the charms. Don't regret it for a second.

You would think that Mr. Pierce would have a lot to keep up with, with three beautiful blondes taking over the house and all but Alo (short for Aloysius) Pierce could only be described as one thing: unique. Brittany's parents loved telling the romantic tale of how they met. Despite Mr. Pierce's sandy blonde hair and clear as day blue eyes, he had embraced the miniscule trace of Cherokee in his bloodline and took to living on a reservation to "find himself." Along his journey, he met Lea, or at the time Ayita (she had adopted the name after the meaning "first to dance"). Mrs. Pierce had no connection to Native Americans but she loved their lifestyle; she embraced it and in turn, they welcomed her. Alo claims it was love at first sight; Lea says that they tip toed around each other for weeks. The final product was a marriage ceremony on the reservation. The couple then settled down in Lima where they married officially with legal documents and all that. I imagine Alo's presentation of a ring on the reservation was about as fancy as a wound up tree root—they've upgraded since then. No woman can happily turn down a little bling.

They were the kind of couple who never fought; their biggest and single most argument being about Alo wanting to get back to his roots by taking Britt and Alison back to the reservation. Lea fought him tooth and nail on that one, claiming she didn't want to disrupt the girls' lives. That began their first and only separation in which Mrs. Pierce kicked Alo out. Instead of hiding out in a hotel, Mr. Pierce insisted on sleeping in the park where he could hear the birds. Luckily the separation didn't last long. These days they're about as close to Lima residents as they come—sort of. Mr. Pierce still refuses to wear ties and smells a little like patchouli oil; Mrs. Pierce wears her hair long and natural with a good amount of bangles on each wrist. They love burning a mass of incense in the Pierce home and itch for their weekend nature walks. I'd never seen a family more in tune.

I'm a slave for you. I cannot hold it; I cannot control it
I'm a slave for you. I won't deny it; I'm not trying to hide it

The bridge—Brittany's favorite part—was soon approaching and I knew what that meant: hip locking and popping overload. We'd be in a fender bender for sure if that happened—Brittany in her Britney mood isn't something you just ignore. I just got a new coat of wax put on; finishing the song is not an option.

"You know guys..." I paused to rummage through the side of my door for the CD I so desperately needed. "This is my car after all. We should be listening to all of my jams, not fumbling around with the shitty—" Brittany snapped that relentless gaze upon me. I coughed my way through the mistake while praying I didn't blush profusely and corrected myself, "I mean, crappy radio."

While Brittany busied herself with counting every blue car that passed, I slipped the CD in unnoticed. And as Ali mumbled soccer plays to herself in an effort to memorize, I skipped over tracks until my ears picked up a faint voice engraved in a rawness that could only be described as...well, Morisette.

"What is this?" a squeaky little amateur voice asked from behind my seat.

In my rear view I met a curious pair of eyes.

"This, my dear, is Alanis Morisette. Say one bad thing and I will throw you out of the car," I said seriously.

I watched those eyes expand, swallowing my threat and heeding it.

"She's kidding, dork," Brittany commented half halfheartedly. She craned her neck to get a glimpse of the car two spaces in front of us. Was that blue or green? A cyan-y color? Definitely blue.

"Hope you brought your ear muffs kid, cause this song ain't no Kids Bop," I warned before cranking up the volume.

An older version of me
Is she perverted like me
Would she go down on you in a theatre
Does she speak eloquently
And would she have your baby
I'm sure she'd make a really excellent mother

"You Oughta Know" supplied me with a balanced dose of sanity for a year straight. As a freshman, I kept it on a constant repeat when Puckerman used to cheat on me all the time. After a while that does something to you. It screws you in the unkindliest of ways actually and your self-esteem caves in like a wet cardboard box. Without this song I would have gone insane. Lorena Bobbitt insane. And then I realized the only way to make it stop hurting was to do it myself. Cheating fucking enlightened you—reminded you of everything you didn't have in your relationship. Relationshits. I spared a glance at Brittany—were our sweet lady kisses enlightening enough for her?

A lawn of well groomed evergreen came into view. Little people littered the grass, running back and forth, bouncing soccer balls on their knee, and chattering to one another. I had barely finished parking when Ali swung the door open, snatched her small duffel bag, and ran out to greet her peers. She tossed a short "thanks Santana" over her shoulder and bounded off across the field. Britts and I leaned against the hood of my car, hanging back to observe the eight year old's behavior.

"It's kind of scary how alike you guys are," I said thoughtfully as I watched a group of girls crowd around Alison the second she chose to acknowledge them.

"We're totally twins," Brittany said matter-of-fact. "I'm just a giant."

My smile warmed up a degree. Pinky met pinky. Brittany peeled me off the hood of my car and crossed the field with me in tow.

xXx

Coach Diego had it going on. His face could have easily been cut from stone with those cupid bow lips and that sharply pointed nose. His frosty blue eyes stood out in contrast to his dark almost pitch black hair which curled at the ends. If you squinted long enough you could see the inch long scar running along the side of his chin. His smile made you wonder where he's been. And when Brittany pointed out how perfect the contours of his calves were, I had to cross my legs. Best eye candy ever.

"Is that Puck over there?"

And that's how you ruin a good time.

"Where?" I asked. My eyes searched around the field, seeking out a mohawk.

"There." Brittany pointed a finger off to the side near the parking lot.

Dressed down in combat boots, ripped jeans, and a black ACDC shirt, Puck stood next to his shit-mobile, smoking a cigarette. It was all very...Puck.

"What is he even doing here?" I mumbled before cupping my hands in front of my mouth and yelling: "Hey Puckerman, get your sweet ass over here!"

He found me almost instantly and for some reason his face brightened. It wasn't like we were still fucking each other or anything, but I'd reigned in the bi-polar act towards him for both our sakes—it made me look suspicious. The malice he once conjured up had evaporated now that Brittany glued me back together. A brief spurt of dementia—that's how I like to describe that odd emotional shift towards Puckerman. Sans the cheating and toolish remarks, he wasn't that bad...right? Lets not get ahead of ourselves.

"Sup Lopez, Brittany," he greeted and plopped down on the bleacher row in front of us.

"Stalking us now, pervert?" I asked, kinking an eyebrow.

"I knew I shouldn't have let that spaceship probe me with that tracking device," Brittany said, frowning.

"Don't flatter yourself," Puckerman replied with a smile that touched his eyes. He pointed towards the field. "My little sister Abbey's on the team."

I looked over just in time to see a girl with dark black, shoulder length hair jog to the middle of the field near Coach Eye Candy. Like Alison, she wore a signature green and white soccer uniform. Don't let the cookie cutter look fool you, there was no question that Puckerman blood ran through Abbey's veins. Her big brother had indoctrinated the nine year old in the ways of rebellion early on. The girl played dirty; she carried a tom boy air about herself that said "I'm Abbey Puckerman and I will not hesitate to kick you in the balls." Puckerman enjoyed teaching her his favorite past times: pickpocketing, lighting firecrackers in the toilet, and of course kicking someone's ass. The girl had thick skin, for sure, but Puck still saw her as his little sister. He'd chew through his own arm for the girl. The protective instinct only multiplied after Quinn gave her baby up. Abbey was all he had left. He would've been an okay dad. Maybe.

"I didn't know she played," Brittany commented with her eyes straight ahead, studying Coach Eye Candy's every move.

"She wanted to play pee wee football but they wouldn't allow it—fucking assholes. So I convinced her that kicking shins on the soccer field was the next best thing," Puck explained. I could see the pride swimming in his eyes.

I watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed and I suddenly remembered something. "Where did you go after school yesterday? I waited for my churro all fucking day."

Puck turned around to look at me, that asshole smirk pasted over his features. "Had a hot Jew date."

"Really? Taking Finn's sloppy seconds again? Lets get creative here, Puck," I couldn't hide the contempt in my tone and I really had no desire to. "I mean, she wont even let you touch her tits, that can't be enjoyable. What do you do after wards to cool down? Play Scrabble in the living room?"

"Oh don't give me shit over this. Rachel's a good kisser, all Jews are. That whole librarian meets kindergarten teacher thing she's got going is hot," Puck defended.

"Are those argyle sweaters itchy? They look itchy," Brittany added. Her face couldn't have been more curious.

I raised a hand to silence them both. "Alright fine. But just tell me one thing...whose five o' clock shadow felt rougher, yours or Berry's?"

"Oh fuck off, Lopez," he said with joviality and I saw the hint of a smile. A laugh bubbled in my throat, Brittany's lips curled up into a grin, and soon we were all doubled over laughing our personal tensions away.

Coach Eye Candy's attention fell on us briefly. We probably looked incredibly stoned to him.

Puck composed himself long enough to speak again. "But anyways, it didn't last for long. I stopped her. It just felt...wrong. I'd already screwed my bro Finn once, I couldn't go through with it again."

I clapped in mock applause. "Congratulations Puckerman, you've officially grown yourself a vagina. It wouldn't matter how long you decided to suck face with Stubbles and Cream, you got his ex girlfriend pregnant. Finn still hates you."

"Well Rachel still hates you," he countered with vexing intent. "She rambled for hours about how you embarrassed her in glee club when you told everyone that you fucked Finn. And then she kind of just sagged into me...and made all these weird noises."

"That's called crying, silly." Brittany patted his shoulder.

Puckerman nodded in response. "Yeah, so I guess she cried for a while and then she told me I kind of still smelled like porta-jon so she doused me in Lysol. Then I held her some more."

I scoffed and tossed my pony to one side. "Whatever. It's not like Finn cheated on her with me. We did the dirty in that little gap of time I like to call opportunity. It's not my fault he wanted all up on this. He came to me."

"We should have just slept with him after Breadstix that one time," Brittany said suddenly. "Rachel wouldn't be as mad. She likes me more."

My mouth fell open in a gape. Puck's eyebrows lifted in surprise. Too much information.

"Wait a minute. You two planned on teaming up to get Finn in the sack?" Puck's tone was incredulous.

"No."

"Yes."

It never helped when your answers fell out at the same time.

Puck's eyes flicked between us and he raised his hands in question. "Way to leave the sex shark out in the cold! Where's my threesome?"

I yanked his arm down and made sure to sink my nails in deep. "Keep your god damn voice down, there are children around."

"Since when do you care about the well being of kids? Last time we took a trip to that mall in Columbus you held some lady's nine year old over the second floor balcony," he reflected back.

"He stepped on my Manolos." I shrugged.

"Was I there when you borrowed those?" Brittany asked with an innocence that made Puck and I look like vultures.

"Think so, B."

"I'm still game for a threesome. Think of all the things we could do. My bed is capable," Puck continued on with a filthy grin to wipe us down with.

"Kissing you is like kissing my cousin Randy," Brittany deadpanned.

Puck's smile faltered. "Is that...good?"

"It's gross," I told him. "It means you're gross."

Puck cast a pointed look in my direction and I smirked, loving every minute of his agitation.

As practice unfolded, Brittany and Puck engrossed themselves in conversation over their siblings like two proud parents. Puckerman bragged endlessly about Abbey's speed and stamina which made her a perfect candidate for the position of striker. Brittany boasted with enthusiasm over the leadership skills Alison possessed and how they landed her the job of defensive mid fielder which acted as the backbone of the team.

"Been thinking about getting a bike. It'll totally boost my whole rebel without a cause look," I heard Puckerman say as he leaned his elbows on our bleacher row. "Might even impress Zizes."

I rolled my eyes in disgust. Lauren joining New Directions constituted as two new members; she had to be carrying another person in that ass of hers, she just had to. Just the image of Noah in the janitor's closet smacking lips with the blimp made my skin crawl. Buying a pair of steel toed boots just to kick Karofsky in the sorry nuts was still on my to do list. I needed some kind of compensation because Kurt skipping off to live out his Boys Gone Wild: Dalton Edition fantasies with The Garglers had royally screwed us.

"Good luck with getting Zizes on the bike. That thing would tip faster than a capsized Titanic," I quipped.

"You can't compare it to that because I've never finished the movie. The chick I watched it with went down on me before Leo jumped," Puck replied casually before bellowing across the field: "Good job, Abs!"

"He looked like a sexy Popsicle by the end," Brittany interposed herself in the conversation. Her eyes landed on me. "Kind of like those peeled bananas you used to put in the freezer, San. What were those for anyway?"

"I think I know," Puck answered, tossing me a dirty grin. The blood in my cheeks betrayed me and I blushed without warning.

I punched his arm and he winced. "I was making fruit bowls, you creep."

"Sure, sure. So anyways, Zizes is playing hard to get. It's kind of a turn on. I love a chase."

"Sleeping with Shamoo is a hazard. Imagine if she was a top, you'd get lost in the mattress somewhere," I told him without a wink of sympathy. This was a true story.

Puck waved me off. "Oh please, the fatter the better. My boy Chuck told me fat chicks are always the tightest."

Brittany nodded, pulling her Cheerios jacket over her shoulders. "They are pretty cool, aren't they?"

In that moment I had the urge to just wrap my arms around Brittany in hopes that some of her tenderness would escape into my clothes and skin. Her delicacy made me want to shield her from all things wrong in the world. I had to sigh to release the rising furnace of flames in my chest and throat; exhale this spell of warmth that she'd cast on me.

"Hello, earth to Santana."

Puckerman's chocolate glazed eyes stared up at me.

"What?"

"You're singing that Amy Winehouse song for sectionals right?"

I nodded in confirmation, too paralyzed with excitement to make my tongue move correctly. Mr. Shuester assigning me a solo over Berry had been risky and an actual honor. I didn't admit it openly to anyone besides Brittany, but for once I felt proud to be in glee club. Getting the okay to sing "Valerie" had been the icing on the cake. Brittany was ecstatic too; I saw it on her face every time I sat in on her and Mike's practices together. It was our time to shine—Quinn's too. Although The Unholy Trinity may have cracked under the pressure of this year, we were excited to finally be more than the trio that swayed in the background as Berry sung another show tune.

"That's gonna be hot. I mean, it's basically about some chick who wants to sex up a ginger."

"Chickens can't sleep with cookies," came Brittany's reply. With our bodies already so close, I could hear her whisper a soft, "idiot."

I smiled and finally draped an arm around her waist until she leaned into my shoulder. I heard her inhale deeply and some part of me hoped for some reason that she was taking in my scent. That spell of warmth, she'd cast it again. And when Puck gave me a look of curiosity, I shrugged and told him it had grown cold, knowing damn well it was the opposite.