A/N: Hello, everyone! I hope you are all staying super safe out there! I did not, unfortunately, get time to write during quarantine, which is why this chapter took a little longer than the year that I planned, but I have a couple of announcements!

1. Great news! I'm officially out of the Navy! Which means now that I get to work a "normal" job again, I should have a lot more time to write (wife willing), so I'm going to obviously work on finishing this story so I can start my next Brittana story. That's right- you guys will probably never get rid of me. Brittana is Forever.

2. I know we are all super bummed about Naya, so I will just say that I hope you guys are doing all right. I have grieved and I'm ready to move on and stay positive about the beautiful relationship she helped create, which is why I'm here, still shipping Brittana. Everyone grieves differently, though, so if you need someone to talk to, my ask box on tumblr- xandylytex for those of you following along at home- is always open, though it might take me a day or two to respond. I will eventually.

And on that note, thanks to everyone still reading, still reviewing, still living the dream! I love all of you and I'll continue to write as long as ya'll continue to read! But honestly, even if ya'll weren't reading, I'd probably still keep writing, I just wouldn't post it, maybe. Idk. Let's not find out, okay? :D

As usual, this chapter is SUPER M RATED. You've been warned. ;)

Brittany boards the Tide Ripper the next morning, surprised when no one pays her any mind. After her heated argument with Santana and such an ominous, stern warning from Kurt, she thought for sure she'd be halted at the gangplank and left at the Beiste without a second thought. Instead, Matt nods at her in friendly greeting as she steps onto the deck, and she nods back, slightly dazed, but knowing better than to question whatever good fortune has befallen her. A quick glance at the sky informs her that it's close to midday, based on the position of the sun; there's still lunch to be made, and since nothing appears to have changed, she hurries to the galley and sets to her work.

From shadow, Santana watches Brittany dutifully descend the stairs to the galley, her thoughts troubled. Mindlessly, she helps Matt and the crew get the ship underway, never thinking herself too elevated to get her hands dirty, but mostly grateful for the distraction from her thoughts. As the ship pushes away from the pier and heads for open water- for home- Santana can't help but notice Kurt with Puck, reporting the status of their supplies, and she feels guilt filling her, knowing their last conversation did not leave them on the best of terms. Determined to set things right as she promised, she waits patiently for him to finish his report, watching him surreptitiously as he falls into step slowly behind David, who's hauling a canvas sack in his arms. She observes as Kurt meanders aimlessly, preoccupied by the small notebook he's scribbling on, but the familiarity of his task keeps him from growing careless. David passes her on his way down below, shooting her an encouraging wink, and she takes a deep, somewhat nervous breath and calls out.

Kurt looks up at her without moving his head, lifting his eyebrows, a look of obvious displeasure crossing his features. "Yes?"

"A word?"

"Of course, Quartermaster." His tone conveys that he indulges her because he must, not because he wants to, but she'll accept it.

She meets his eyes, her expression serious. "It's done."

Kurt crosses his arms. "The exchange?"

"Soured."

"Yet the attempt was made?" He frowns in disapproval.

"Admittedly- though not with much effort."

He sighs, reaching up to rub his forehead in exasperation. "I'm relieved that things have taken a turn the way they have, although," he emphasizes, "I express concern for the next time you decide to be rid of Brittany on a whim."

"It's not a whim," Santana snaps, growing instantly heated from pent-up frustration. "I worry for her as you do, I just-"

"Express it differently, yes. And what next will befall Brittany, should you worry again?"

Santana pauses, her anger draining at his words, her prior guilt resurfacing. "That's not for you or I to decide anymore," she admits softly. "She is to make her own decision on what befalls her from now on."

"Truly?"

"Yes. I plan to release her from servitude. She may go to Argo, as planned- or remain here and join our ranks."

"Join our ranks?" Kurt repeats, raising a disbelieving eyebrow. "How does that safen her?"

"She is to fall under David's instruction, should she decide to stay."

Kurt's speechless, but his eyes convey the incredulity she knows he feels, and it makes her smile in spite of the tension between them as he balks, struggling for words.

"I see you have the same reaction I did," she smiles, saving him from having to come up with a response. "But he offered."

Nodding, Kurt stares off into the distance, contemplating her words and what that means for his charge. "She will have no better teacher, I suppose. And what of Sugar?"

"She will be given the same choice."

"Then it truly is up to them, now. When is this decision to take place?"

"Once we return home. I will speak to Noah about the terms and timeline. I just- I wanted you to know that I- I considered what you said. And also... I'm sorry."

Kurt offers her a forgiving smile. "I know this must be hard for you, Santana- it's new, and you're still learning." She swallows, wishing he didn't expose her so easily... but she was never very good at hiding, anyway. "I forgive you for that, and challenge you to do better."

She nods absently, her thoughts and emotions racing. "Challenge received."

After a productive, busy day full of curing meats, preparing and kneading dough for bread, and storing their newly-acquired provisions for the journey home, where such a fast-paced schedule did not allow her much time to think, Brittany is suddenly left exhausted and alone with her thoughts- and most of them center around Santana. She doesn't know what to do about the situation she's currently in: she's not been left behind as the woman promised, but does that mean she has some other, more horrible fate in store?

Released from her duties for the remainder of the night, she makes her way down to the familiar, cozy cargo hold that she shares with Sugar. It's still not much, but she's moved from sleeping on stiff coils of rope to at least having a proper hammock and a warm blanket. She's been afforded one small box for her meager belongings, and a thin mat with a pillow to lounge on while she practices tying knots or petting Lord when he visits, which is most nights. She doesn't own a lot of clothes, but the relief of taking her boots off every night is a joy that she never would have imagined possible.

As she relaxes for a moment, replaying the whirlwind of events that transpired over the last few days, she can't help thinking about Santana's most recent words, and what the lady pirate might be thinking about her, feeling for her. The unknown burns up her insides, but she knows she can't very well ask her quartermaster for clarification- not without answering her haunting question: what does she want?

Brittany chews her lip. Has she never considered the question before? She's slightly embarrassed that she stood up and demanded to be heard, but in the end had nothing to say. For the first time in months, she's forced to consider that she might have options, and decides that there's really only three ways her immediate future could unfold.

The first, and least desirable, would be for her to be sent home... to allow the pirates to collect the ransom for her safe return, sincerely this time, and upon arrival, face her father and the weight of all that she has done. She would submit herself to her father's rule and punishment and surely be sent to wed Prince Rory, if he would still have her. If she's being completely honest, she would rather serve the Empress of Lao in chains, right alongside Captain Anderson.

Her other, much more pleasant option would be safe passage to Argo, attained through either her already-accomplished feats or through future physical work, depending on the generosity of the pirates she serves. She and Sugar could achieve what they set out for how many months ago? They could finally reach that perfect, faraway paradise, and... and what? The answer makes her spirits sink: live out the remainder of their days together, untroubled on a tropical beach, each day as boring and uneventful as the last. Perhaps she might meet someone to spend those carefree days with, but she knows in her gut that any person she might meet would stand no comparison to, nor be anywhere near as interesting as Santana. The thought saddens her, removing some of the rosy appeal that Argo had always maintained in her imagination. A slow, easy life in a tropical paradise had never seemed so dull, so boring, and so... lonely. Had she truly changed so much?

Only one favorable option remains, but it's the one she knows in her heart she's wanted all along, she was simply too scared to admit that she's changed, grown. Maybe she was meant for this life. The thought sits heavy on her, for she'd never dreamed that she could fit in with a group of people she'd always considered savages... but she can't deny that more often than not, she finds common ground with them. She's found a place where she belongs and a life that she's earned, which is what she'd been inadvertently searching for in Argo.

Her mind made up, she knows if she is to truly get what she wants, she must find a way to prove herself worthy of becoming a full part of the crew.

Sounds coming from the ladder distract her from the ideas turning over in her mind: footsteps, clumsy in their placement, and more than one pair. She sits up in alert, panicking- is this where the pirates finally dispose of her, as promised? Will Santana herself see her walking the plank?

When Sugar and Jake stumble down into view, kissing heatedly, she releases a breath, but holds another. She watches them for a moment, hoping they might notice her presence, or realize that they are not alone, but the pair is oblivious, and the sight sparks a small twinge of jealousy in her stomach. If only she could fall into a fit of passionate kissing with-

The clink of Sugar unfastening Jake's belt cues Brittany to the fact that they are probably never going to notice her, and she coughs adamantly, causing the two lovers to pause in their hasty groping.

"Oh! Britt," Sugar smiles, her cheeks flushed. "I didn't realize you were back already."

Brittany smiles in return, relieved that the situation did not become more awkward. "Already? It's late."

"Is it?" Jake grins regretfully, fixing his belt. "I guess I'll be off, then. I've got next watch."

Sugar kisses him. "Tomorrow?"

"Please..."

He ambles heavily back up the ladder, and Sugar watches him go for a moment before turning to Brittany, who's sitting on her mat, staring at her curiously.

"You still favor him?" she asks.

Sugar grins slyly, slowly strolling over to her own mat and freeing her already-messy hair from the ribbon she'd tied it up with earlier. "I favor myself; Jake is just a means to an end." She stretches out on the mat beside Brittany, still wearing a wide grin.

"What end?" Blue eyes burn with interest, with desperate curiosity, and Sugar indulges her friend with a teasing,

"Is pleasure itself not a worthy end?"

Brittany licks her lower lip, considering. She's never thought of sex in a way that wasn't something more than just... pleasure. In fact, she'd never considered sex pleasurable at all. At least, not sex with a man. She'd always imagined there was more- some deeper meaning, some infinite joining of souls. Pleasure was never a goal or a result, not based on the few stories she'd been able to coerce from friends when they'd visited. The act itself she'd never desired, only the resulting connection. But had she ever pictured herself with a man? With Sam? Had she ever imagined her soul bonding with another?

Had the thought of any man gotten her as fevered as a single thought of Santana?

Clearing her throat subtly, Brittany hopes her cheeks don't betray her with their sudden color. She reaches up as if to straighten her hair, to attempt to conceal her blush, but Sugar knows her too well and grabs her wrist, shrieking with laughter.

"Britt! You're absolutely red! What must you be thinking?"

"I just- never imagined you with Jake," Brittany stammers. "Do you lie with him often?"

Sugar nods, her grin wide and catty. "Almost every night. But do not worry for me- we are very careful to avoid any chance of conceiving a child."

The sudden information opens up an entire new collection of questions in Brittany's mind, so many that she feels overwhelmed. The concept of sex for pleasure is completely foreign to her. She'd never thought to connect the two; even the few times she'd gotten herself off, she didn't think of it as sex, just self-fulfillment, stress relief, that would never be achieved with another person. She's dying to know what sex for pleasure is like... but she doesn't know how, or even what, to ask. Would it be proper to talk about such things? And does she even care what is or isn't proper, now that she's decided to embrace the life of a pirate?

"For pleasure," Brittany starts softly, carefully. "And that's... all?"

"It is more than that," Sugar confesses, sensing her friend's curiosity. "When he's inside me, I've never felt so close to another person, or so- so good. I feel... connected- united, even- and love doesn't matter in that moment, because we're more. I don't need to love him to feel close to him, you know? After all, I'm a person, and I deserve those feelings, even though I haven't found my soulmate, yet. I mean, I may never find my soulmate- am I to spend my whole life never feeling that connection?"

Brittany's thoughts race, struggling to process all that Sugar has said. "Of course not."

"Exactly. So, I don't believe in just one partner, or that you have to love that person to share a connection with them. The idea is silly to me. We're all connected."

"Is that what it's like on Callyst?"

Sugar nods. "I think so. We believe in the union, whether it's for a single night or a lifetime of nights. We want to share ourselves with everyone, to feel close to everyone. There's no shame in it." She closes her eyes, sighing, and Brittany absently strokes her fingers down Lord's back, petting his fur and listening to his loud, content purring. She'd been so preoccupied with her thoughts, she hadn't even noticed he'd sneaked into her lap.

After a comfortably silent moment, Sugar rises and moves to the wash basin they share, using her daily water ration to clean her face, and leaving her friend to her rampant thoughts. Brittany struggles to connect how Santana could unite in such a way with her, to be that intimate with her. Obviously, the pirate's missing a few key features that men possess, but she's certain that Santana can join with her in other ways, she just doesn't know how-

The memory of Santana sucking her fingers clean at the brothel and the way her smooth tongue caressed her fingertips rushes back suddenly, and a hard throb of arousal resonates through her entire body. She gasps at the intensity, her heartbeat accelerating. How is Santana able to ignite her so powerfully, just from the mere memory of her touch? She shifts slightly before realizing that Lord is still curled up on her lap. She looks down at him only to find him glaring at her.

She sighs. "Sorry."

Lord stands pointedly and jumps from her lap, angrily flicking his tail at her. Running a frustrated hand through her hair, she decides that she's done enough thinking for the night.

She just wishes her thoughts would turn off.

"You avoid familiar waters," Santana accuses as she climbs the stairs to the quarterdeck, coming to stand beside her captain.

"We are very wanted, if you may recall," Puck hums, twirling his spyglass on his finger and gazing out into the vast ocean. The waves crash angrily against the side of the ship, the water dark and ominous, despite the fact that it's midday.

It's been two days since they departed from land, but they are not much closer to their home island, a fact that Santana loathes. They have spent too much time in unfamiliar waters, and have gone far out of their usual route to avoid detection by Laoan or Lycan ships... but without knowing what else could find them. It's a risk Santana doesn't like, but she is not the one in charge of their journey, so she merely voices her disapproval to the person who is.

A loud bell rings, and she shakes her head. "Lunch already."

Santana barely hears the sound of Brittany's footsteps approaching over the tumultuous roar of the waves, and she turns, laying eyes on the woman for the first time in days, since Kurt has been making the usual food rounds. Their eyes meet and hold, and Santana's stomach drops, her heart skips about three consecutive beats, and she feels her throat tightening with emotion. She wants to say something, but she's unsure what to say, or even where to start.

Wordlessly, the blonde offers her a cloth-wrapped sandwich, her expression indifferent, her blue eyes guarded. They stare silently for a few moments, each studying the other, trying to discern where they stand.

"Brittany," Santana finally greets, her tone stiff and movements awkward as she accepts the sandwich.

"Quartermaster," Brittany returns, cautious. Her eyes dart down to Santana's lips involuntarily, noticing Santana's do the same to hers. When she raises her gaze again, the heat she feels rising in her chest from the look in Santana's eyes threatens to overtake her. Why does her pulse quicken? Why does her heart pound? Santana opens her mouth to speak-

"Steer clear! Shadow up ahead! Something's in the water! Steer clear!"

-and shuts it at the sound of Brett screaming from high in the crow's nest.

"What is it?" Puck calls up to him, appearing at her side. "Another ship?"

"It's-"

He pauses, and all hands on deck wait tensely for more information, scanning the horizon, straining to see what Brett saw. Puck focuses on his spyglass, but Brett's screaming again before he can lock onto anything definite.

"It's a creature! A creature! I don't-"

Water explodes upward less than 3 ship-lengths away, and from the explosion, a giant, serpentine creature rises high into the air. The darkness of the creature makes its features indiscernible against the darkness of the water, but the silhouette of its many appendages stand out against the sky.

"What the hell is that thing?" Arty shrieks from his place behind the navigation wheel, reaching up to hold his spectacles dramatically, as if they might help clarify what he's looking at, or even make it disappear.

"Sea dragon!"

"Monster!"

"HYDRA!"

Panicked, frenzied voices rise in fear on deck; a loud bell clangs once, twice, three times, then pauses and repeats. The sound of pounding boots echoes into the blackness as pirates, roused from peaceful day sleep, arrive at their sailing stations to help maneuver the ship, and all the while, the monster draws nearer, the Tide Ripper on an unavoidable collision course straight for it.

"Halt the ship!" Puck commands, "bring us about!"

"It's too late, Cap'n!" Hank, one of the riggers, screams from the netting he's climbing, "there's no time!"

Arty turns the wheel all the way over anyway, hoping to avoid damaging the ship with a direct hit. The ship sways roughly, and Brittany's grateful for her developed sea legs; the her of months prior would be embarrassingly sprawled upon the deck.

The creature shrieks at them in greeting as it eyes their approach- a high-pitched, screeching sound that rattles Brittany to her bones. The thing rises higher from the water, and, hands shaking, Brittany steels her courage and waits for orders from her Captain.

"Ready the cannons! Prepare to engage!"

The ship draws closer, closer, and Brittany can make out the individual large scales, like armor plates, covering the monster's body. A collective breath is held as the ship reaches the creature and narrowly passes by the right side of it, avoiding collision by the grace of the gods alone. Brittany feels the fear and panic rising as she and the rest of the crew analyze what they're looking at as they pass, trying to discern a familiar shape, but the monster seems to have been created with no logic in mind.

Her first thought is that it looks like a giant centipede- but with long, lithe tentacles where legs should be. Atop its head- if it can even be considered a head- are two long antennae, and below that is a row of several giant, purple-tinted eyes, their terrifying gaze fixed obsessively upon the ship. Just below the eyes sit three separate sets of serrated mandibles, with two long, whiplike- tongues? (Brittany's not an expert in giant sea centipede mouth parts in the slightest)- between each set. The more she gazes at the creature, the more she stands in disbelief of its existence; she's heard tales of sea monsters before, and never believed them true... but the unnatural thing before her, dripping bright yellow, slimy saliva onto the deck, is living, breathing proof of such tales. Even with the monstrosity in scarily close proximity, however, the sight is still too fantastical to accept.

"GO!" Puck shouts suddenly, and the pirates on deck have moments to react before a stream of acrid, warm water from the sea creature's mouth hits the ship, washing over their boots and breaking their footing. The ship picks up speed for long, tense moments before it is suddenly and jarringly stopped with a slam.

"It has us!" Brett cries from the crow's nest. "We're doomed!"

"Doomed," Santana laughs, rolling her eyes. Tucking the sandwich she'd been holding safely away in a pile of rope for later, she turns to her men, shouting above the sound of the thrashing waves and monster bellows, "Prepare to fight!" She draws her swords, pointing them at the huge, constricting tentacle that has wrapped around the aft end of the ship. She's not sure if it's a limb or a tail, nor does she care. She only knows that it stands between her and life. "We'll show this ugly thing it messed with the wrong ship!"

A shout of affirmation rises up from the pirates, and then one by one, they each swiftly break away from their main positions, as though rehearsed, to other designated areas of the ship- battle stations. Brittany, who normally is in the center of conflict (usually as the cause) has never been assigned a battle station, so instead she stands back and out of the way, watching as Matt and the other pirates work the sails, trying to maneuver the ship out of reach of the monstrosity despite their entrapment. Puck is shouting sailing orders, his sword flashing and already covered with blood, a pile of severed flesh at his feet on the deck. Santana is shouting battle orders, her swords drawn and threatening. Brittany scans the ship, looking for anyone who might need assistance, but-

"Princess- a hand!" David calls to her from his spot below the main deck at the gunwales, and Brittany instantly slides down the ladder nearby to be at his side. With one quick glance, she immediately understands her task and sets to work running him ammunition and gunpowder from the nearby storage crates. She covers her ears to help protect against the boom of the cannon when it fires. The crack is still deafening, and her ears ring as she rolls more cannonballs, hiding her mouth against her sleeve to avoid inhaling the thick smoke as she gets close. David's aim is true, and the round strikes the monster squarely, who shrieks in pain but is otherwise no worse off, unfazed, and if possible, even angrier.

"We'd better get to work," David pants, wiping his sweaty brow with the back of his wrist. "It looks like it's gonna take a lot more than that to slay that thing."

Spears fly, futilely sticking in scale-plated flesh or bouncing harmlessly away to clatter uselessly on the deck. Santana's fought a sea monster only once before in her life- when she was young, aboard her first ship, before it was overtaken by pirates. She was too little to engage in the fight, then; she aided in retrieving fallen weapons and cleaning up the considerable amount of blood and goo afterwards. Now, armed with dual swords and years of experience, she nearly smiles from the sheer challenge. The monstrosity is uglier than Puck, smells like rotten fish guts, and is taller than a ship in the Lycan Royal Fleet, but Santana pursues it, all the same.

"Aim for the eyes, Dave!"

"You don't say!" David hollers from the gunwales, and his stressed tone amuses her, though she cannot discern why. There's a very good chance that their ship could be destroyed beyond repair and they could all meet their end at the hands- or rather, tentacles?- of the creature before them. Admittedly, there's no way else she'd rather die- but then she remembers that Brittany would sink right along beside her, and that's unacceptable. She can't let that happen.

"Look out!" Someone screams, and Santana scans her field of vision quickly just in time to witness the creature lift a giant tentacle from the water. Definitely a limb then, and not a tail.

The ship rocks violently as the tentacle slaps at the side of it, aiming for the source of the cannonballs that are annoying it. Wood splinters and breaks from the force, and on the gun deck below, David and Brittany manage to dodge the cannons that dislodge from their housing as a result. The cannons smash into the side of the ship heavily, but miraculously don't puncture the wood. Sacks of gunpowder rip and disperse the poisonous particles into the air, presenting more danger. The corral of cannonballs shatters, sending the heavy metal spheres rolling wildly; one catches David in the ankle, causing him to buckle. He collapses to the deck with a strangled cry of pain, gasping, leaning on a nearby cannon for support to try and regain his footing.

"David!" Santana shouts, though she can't discern what's happening from her position above deck, only that her friend was the target of the attack, evidenced by his cry of pain. The creature sucks in deeply, preparing to spit again, and Santana dodges the great stream by clinging to the netting above, watching the disgustingly warm water rush across the deck and over the side, to the already-smashed-up gunwales.

Brittany holds tightly to the ladder behind her as the powerful flood of water slams over her, drenching the entire left side of her body and lifting her off the deck momentarily from the force. The ship is still rocking violently from the earlier blow, the shouts of the pirates on the main deck still engaged in the fight a distant noise compared to the crashing of the treacherous waves below. The sound of lines snapping cuts clearly through the roaring water and screams, though, and sends panic into her chest. She looks desperately for David, finding him pinned by a cannon against the side of the ship, the snapped lines trailing in the stream of water. The ship rocks the other way, and the cannon, David, and the wave of water all slide along the deck and, with the railing and cannon housing torn away, there's nothing to stop them from going completely over the side. The realization raises terror in Brittany; if David goes over the side, he will surely end up as a sea monster snack. She watches in horror as he cries out, his fingers clawing at the deck for purchase to prevent his demise, but the water rolls into him, forcing him over.

Without thinking, Brittany reacts quickly, releasing her hold on the ladder and jumping to slide on her thigh across the tilted deck, scooping up discarded rope as she goes. She throws the pile at David as he disappears over the side, yelling, "Grab this!" as she wraps the end of the rope tightly around her hand, determined not to let go. The force of his fall pulls her forward, and she madly grabs the edge of the railing to prevent herself from following him over the side. The sudden stop is painful, especially with the addition of David's weight, and she's sure she broke or pulled something, but she clings to the railing desperately, her grip weakening more every second, her entire body throbbing in pain from the strain.

"Hold on!" She cries, wrapping her body around the railing and gripping the rope with both hands. Her arms and wrist are on fire, the rope cutting painfully into her hand, but Santana's words from the brothel resurface in her mind.

"You wish for them to risk their lives picking up your slack until they are killed for you?"

Brittany clenches her teeth and pulls with all her might, ignoring the stinging tears that she squeezes from the corners of her eyes as a result of the pain. She's not that person, the helpless princess she was- she's going to prove she can risk her life for her crew, that she can be depended on, and strong, and-

"Aaaghhhh!" David screams, and Brittany opens her eyes to find the sea monster grabbing at him, its tentacle stuck to his right arm. Her stomach sinks- she has to win a tug of war against the sea creature, too?

"Quartermaster!" Brittany calls desperately, the first person she could think of to render aid. The line she's gripping pulls at her harder; she's terrified that either her arm or the line will give out. She doesn't know how much longer she can last, and she squeezes her eyes shut again and prays that Santana does something soon-

A loud shriek of pain causes Brittany to release the breath she's holding, and moments later the monster releases David to focus all its tentacles at the ship.

"Holy waters," Mike mutters as he slides in beside her and grabs the rope. Instantly, the pressure lessens, and as Matt grips from the other side, together the three of them pull David back up onto the gundeck. He hits the floor, landing on his back, soaked and gasping, and Brittany watches as Mike assesses him quickly, reassuring herself that he's okay as feeling works itself back into her tingling arms and aching shoulders.

His right side is rubbed raw from where the tentacle grabbed him, but the damage is not critical. "I ain't done yet," he coughs, shivering, shaken, and Mike places his hand on his good shoulder.

"You are. But you'll be all right- I'll tend to you later. Stay back and wait." He turns to Brittany. "Are you all right?"

She nods, feeling slightly nauseous, and she opens and closes her hands a few times as her arm muscles shake uncontrollably from fatigue. She's still struggling to process everything that's happened in the last several minutes, but she knows they aren't safe yet, so she can't rest.

David coughs, flinching as he sits up despite Mike's protest, and he pushes him aside to catch Brittany's eye. "I won't forget this."

Unsure how to respond, Brittany bites her lip, then turns to Matt. "Where can I help, Boats?"

Matt smiles despite himself. "The bunt's jammed. Need to drop the topsail to get out of here. Gotta cut that line up there," he points with his dirk, all the way up to nearly the top of the forward mast, "and free the sail. The riggers are busy with the fight- think you can do it?" He offers the small blade.

Brittany hesitates only a moment before she accepts it, handling it carefully; then, fighting the urge to throw up from nerves, and willing her arms not to shake, she climbs up the ladder to the main deck and begins her ascent up the rigging to the faulty sail, her right shoulder aching with a throbbing, increasing pain.

Santana's angry.

She's had about enough of the stupid sea monster as she can stand, but for whatever reason, it doesn't know when to give up. Growing impatient, the creature lowers its head to snap at the spot Santana had occupied precious seconds before. She whirls, her blades slicing into flesh, and the tip of the monster's tongue lands with a wet smack, writhing on the deck. Gooey blood sprays immediately after, coating the floor, coating her, and she moves away as the creature thrashes angrily. A deafening roar shakes the ship from its proximity, and Santana yells, "Now, Jake!"

Multiple cannons fire from the opposite side of the ship, and seconds later, heavy rounds impact the monster's head, striking the eyes and taking out at least two. Another angry roar shakes the ship. Panting, Puck comes to stand beside her, looking as sticky and disgusting as her.

"One more good hit ought to do it in," she says, breathless.

"Dia-"

"Don't call me that."

"-let's take care of it. I'll boost you." He offers her a genuine, boyish smile, and Santana can't help but smile back, shaking her head.

"You're fucking crazy." But she obediently grabs the lid off of a barrel, throws it to Puck, and sprints to the edge of the deck opposite the monster. "Don't keep me waiting, Guppy."

Puck grins, then kneels, holding the barrel out like a step to Santana. With a deep breath, Santana tosses one of her swords to the deck, clenching the other one tightly as she starts towards him, building up speed and then using the barrel lid as a step to jump from, and Puck lifts with all his might to launch her higher. Santana lands sword-first into the creature, halting her fall by piercing the monster's thick, plated skin. The monster flails, trying to fling her off, but she hangs on tightly, twisting her sword deeply into the monster's flesh, her ears ringing from the piercing screams as she serves her purpose as a distraction.

"Now, idiot!" She hollers, her grip on her sword weakening the longer the monster tosses her around. The ship rocks deeply, but even still, Santana can hear the sound of Puck leading the pirates' final assault, spears and arrows penetrating into the monster's worn-down, armored skin. Another jerk conveys to her that they've struck something good, and she decides it's probably an ideal time to get back on the ship, rather than sink into the ocean with ol' Tentacles. She steadies her foot against flesh and, timing the flailing, tugs her sword free. She spends a brief moment airborne, thrown from the monster, before she unceremoniously hits the deck, sliding in the slick of blood, her sword clattering down beside her.

Puck's at her side, offering her a hand up seconds later.

"Did that do it?" She coughs, wiping gunk from her dominant arm.

"Think so." He turns to Matt. "Can we escape?"

Matt nods. Then, he calls up, "Brittany, you ready?"

The girl in question had just barely reached the designated yardarm at the top of the forward mast. She pulls the dirk Matt had given her from her belt, grasping the buntline, which had tangled due to the monster attack. "Ready!"

"Do it now!"

She pulls the blade through the line and the sail unfurls with a mighty blast, catching the wild gust of wind and jerking the ship forward. Brittany nearly loses her grip on the yardarm as the ship pitches forward, but as the greater, lower sails unfurl moments later, the ship steadies and begins to pick up speed. She begins her slow, painful descent as all hands set the ship into motion and they sail away at a decent pace, leaving the wounded monster shrieking angrily behind them. It's quiet and tense as they wait for the sea creature to decide whether or not to pursue them, but as the ship puts more and more ocean between itself and the monster, it's obvious they have somehow, miraculously, made it out alive.

When the injured sea monster slithers back into the sea, Brittany expects a loud cheer of success to go up, but instead, it remains eerily quiet, with just the sound of the ship cutting through the waves and the normal noises of pirates performing their duties. She wonders what she should do to help as her feet gently touch the ground- surely they don't mean for her to just mosey her way back down to the galley?

As if on cue, Kurt appears on deck with Sugar and a pot of hot soup, which he sets up into a station, making rounds to each of the hard-working pirates. They're all soaked through with blood, guts, and regurgitated ocean water, but before they can begin to cleanse and take care of themselves, they must put more distance behind them- the soup will have to hold them over.

Brittany watches as David weakly pulls himself up to the main deck and collapses heavily against the forward mast nearby, using it as support for his back as he slides to the floor. In the light of the sun, his injury looks worse than Brittany originally thought- the right half of his shirt from chest to shoulder is ripped away, leaving angry, red, pockmarked skin exposed. Mike is immediately at his side, tending to the wound, a pair of tweezers in his hand to remove sharp barbs that no doubt had been embedded in his flesh by the tentacles. In the wake of the removed barbs, bloody holes remain. She chews her lip with worry, hesitating to come closer, but David's cursing the heavens, so he can't be too close to death.

As she moves closer to David, her adrenaline slowly leaves her, and she feels the sharp pain in her shoulder returning, along with heavy fatigue. She rubs at her wrist absently, watching as Jake and Sugar break out swabs and buckets and begin to clean up the mess on deck. She reaches for a nearby swab automatically.

"You saved my life," David interrupts her quietly, halting her from joining the clean-up crew. David's voice is soft, tired, but the ship is so quiet it sounds loud to Brittany.

She turns to look at him. "So then we are even."

"No," David shakes his head. "Not like this."

"How's your wrist?" Mike asks, looking up from David's shoulder. He observes her clutching it without realizing, and she tries to hide it, but a look from him has her ducking her head sheepishly.

"Well, it hurts a little," she admits. "My shoulder..."

"Take care of her, I'm fine," David protests.

"Shut your ugly pie hole," Mike says kindly, pointing the tweezers at him in a threatening manner that belies his soft tone. He turns back to Brittany, beckoning her closer. Petting her wrist, he squeezes it in a few places, nodding, relieved. "Nothing broken. It's probably sprained, nothing too serious." He pauses to assess her shoulder, frowning. "Feels slightly dislodged. I might have to do some work on it. Is it unbearable?"

"It can wait."

Mike offers her a grateful smile. "As soon as I'm done here..." He trails off, turning back to David with the tweezers, who yelps as he pries another barb from his chest. Awkwardly, she reaches for the swab again and sets to work, doing her best to ignore the pain- especially when she catches Kurt's worried expression from his spot near the soup pot.

"The gunwales took the worst of it," Arty reports. "But it's nothing we can't get repaired on our own, with supplies from Phiny."

"I'm surprised," Puck admits. "Just a few scrapes, some smashed up cannon housing? I expected more damage." He glances at Santana, whose attention is focused on watching Brittany swab the deck. She can tell that the girl is tired, she can see it in her movements- but she doesn't quit, and it stirs something in her chest as she watches.

When Santana doesn't respond, Puck raises an eyebrow and coughs. "Nothing to say?" Santana slowly shakes her head, her gaze never straying from Brittany's form. Puck follows her line of sight and smiles. "She saved his life."

"She did," Santana breathes. She's still in shock- not that Brittany saved David's life- the girl never ceases to amaze her, proving herself capable every time she's tested- but that David needed saving. She almost lost her best friend. If it hadn't been for Brittany-

"So what do you propose we do now, eh, Cap'n?" Arty asks, breaking the weird silence that had fallen over them.

"Stay on course for home, Specs. We all need rest for a while to recover from these last few weeks. When we've gotten our strength back, we'll send a party out to Phiny for repair supplies and figure out our next move. For now, let's just enjoy being alive."

"And Brittany?"

"She has a choice to make," Santana whispers.

David Karofsky's been in the infirmary before.

Though, he allows, it's usually for minor things like burns from explosions, cuts from metal rounds, or broken ribs from brawling in pubs, he's no stranger to pain, or to Mike's treatments.

But gods, he hates it.

The antiseptic smell, the echoing emptiness, the loneliness, the inability to leave his bed- all of it puts him on edge, and to top it off, they won't even let him have a single mug of-

"You're an idiot!"

"Ah, knew you'd be by to visit," David laughs weakly as Santana bursts through the door of the infirmary, fuming.

"You're a fucking idiot. Do you know that you could've died?"

"Thought mighta crossed my mind, San," he sighs as she paces by the bed. He knows she doesn't mean to sound so cross- she just deals with her fear and emotions differently than most.

"Then what the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Well, I was feelin' a bit hot and thought, wouldn't a swim in the ocean be absolut'ly refreshing," he says with a shit-eating grin, and she glares at him. "Whatcha think, that I meant to go overboard? I meant to become a sea monster snack?"

Santana sighs, dropping into a nearby chair. "I'm sorry. I just-"

"I know," he smiles. "You was worried."

She pulls a hand through her dark hair. "Yeah."

They sit in silence for a few moments before David sits up, though it's a struggle. He looks at Santana meaningfully. "What about Brittany?"

"She's mostly fine. Mike had to do some work on her shoulder- heard she took it like a shark, though."

"I was there, San. I been in this fuckin' shithole the whole damn time. I watched Mike push her shoulder back in place. You know that's not what I meant... but she did take it like a fuckin' shark, it was admirable."

She resists the urge to smile, and instead considers his words, trying to decide where to begin, and how much of her feelings to divulge. She finally decides on, "She will determine her own fate."

"And you're still right with it?"

"Of course," Santana forces a smile. She's not ready to talk more about her feelings on the subject yet, she knows. David's only just recovering; it wouldn't be right to burden him with such emotions. She will have to work through things on her own.

David nods, suspicious of such a breezy reply, but knowing when to accept Santana's answers, even if they sound like a steaming pile of whale shit. "And when's this decision takin' place? I wanna be there."

Santana smiles slightly. "Once we reach home. You should be mostly healed by then- or at least, that's what Mike assures me." She's not ready to sort through her feelings on almost losing her best friend, either. At least... not sober. And speaking of which- she reaches into her belt and discreetly pulls out a small, metal flask. "Here- I brought you something." She casually offers the flask, and at David's wide-eyed stare she confirms, "It's grog."

David closes his eyes gratefully as he accepts the flask and, hands shaking, gulps the liquid down ravenously. "Thank the fuckin' gods," he gasps as he finishes, reaching to wipe his mouth. "I was dyin' in here."

"Figured."

The sound of the door handle turning breaks the moment, and David surreptitiously slides the empty flask back to Santana as the door opens to reveal Kurt, carrying a tray with a bowl of soup. On the tray, a small flower is laid beside the bowl, and the sight makes Santana's heart ache a little. It's silly, but deep down, she's a little jealous of her friend and the undying partnership, however strange it is sometimes, that he shares with Kurt.

She looks at David, who smiles regretfully, but she shakes her head. "I'll be back soon. Rest, okay?"

"I know," he grumbles, settling back against his pillow.

"And Dave?" she says softly. He pauses in his fidgeting to look at her.

"Yeah?"

She swallows. "I'm... really glad you're all right."

He smiles genuinely. "Me, too."

Their eyes meet for a moment and hold, and then Kurt moves into view, and Santana turns.

"He's all yours, Pony," she calls as she exits, and Kurt mutters an unamused thanks as she closes the door. Once alone in her stateroom, Santana revisits their conversation. She knows she's actually not all right with letting Brittany choose her own fate- she's terrified. Truthfully, she knows which choice she hopes Brittany will make, but she also has to accept that she might never see the girl again. And what's harder, she has to accept that she can't handle the thought of never seeing Brittany again. Allowing Brittany to decide her own fate means that Santana cannot do it for her and choose a favorable outcome- she's powerless. She has no idea what decision Brittany will make... though, thankfully, she does know someone who might.

"Shashaiti," Santana starts casually later that night, when Sugar delivers her laundered clothing items, "if you were offered freedom today, would you take it and leave? Or would you stay and become a true part of the ship?"

Taken aback, Sugar balks at what to say. Santana always makes pleasant conversation, but she had never before imagined being asked about freedom- not since she stole away with Brittany on the Courage so many months ago. "Well, I have never truly considered freedom," she admits. "I have always been at Brittany's side."

Santana nods thoughtfully, setting up her questions with care so as to evoke the information she desires without directly asking for it. "You are in my care, now. And if I were to grant you freedom, what then?"

Sugar pauses. "Brittany remains my closest and dearest friend, and I would not be parted from her."

"So it's her decision, then?"

"Yes. I will go along with whatever she decides."

"And if she were given the choice, what would she choose?"

Sugar laughs- she doesn't have to think about it. She knows, beyond a doubt somehow, that Brittany would not leave Santana. She's not sure why- she knows Brittany's not ready to divulge the answers to those questions, yet- but for whatever reason, her friend is attached to her Master, so with total confidence, she states, "Brittany would never leave you."

Shocked, Santana struggles not to show her emotions. Coolly, she asks, "And does that sit well with you? You don't regret the loss of Argo?"

Sugar laughs again, more fully this time. "I cannot regret losing something I never had. What was I to do there? I would get bored of cleaning sand from my shoes." Santana smiles, amused, as she continues, "No, Master Santana- that was Brittany's dream, not mine."

"I suppose... but then, if it is Brittany's dream as you claim, then what is yours?"

"I desire to be something powerful, to be respected. Not necessarily as a king or queen, but in whatever I am to do. If it's in service, then to serve so good that one cannot function without me. If it is as a pirate, then to plunder and amass my fortune so that others have no choice but to recognize my strength. But what about you, Master Santana? What do you desire?"

"Me?" Santana swallows, unsure that she's ever been asked, nor considered, what her dreams entail.

"Yes, unless your chair has suddenly joined the conversation," Sugar says dryly. Santana sighs, long accustomed to Sugar's tendency to blurt her thoughts. "What do you wish? Surely it's not to sail these seas, pirating forever? Surely there's an end goal?"

Santana's stumped- that's exactly how she'd pictured her life. She'd never really thought that far ahead, never considered that there might be more. To gain money was always the point of their pirating, and then just as quickly, to spend it all in the bars and brothels and markets, or on the next voyage to get more money. To buy and to have, since she never did as a kid. Though she'd been saving since she was a young girl, she didn't know what she'd been saving for, always assuming she'd die in battle or on the sea long before she ever got to use it.

Lately, however, she's been wondering what a different life would feel like. Argo, though paradisal, would seem so dull compared to the pulse-pounding action of pirating. But she has to admit that the idea of relaxing on a private tropical beach far from Puck and life-threatening situations, drinking rum out of a coconut shell with Brittany by her side doesn't sound like a terrible fate.

When Santana doesn't answer her question, Sugar clears her throat. "Will that be all, Master?"

Santana blinks, snapping out of her daydream. An embarrassed, hasty, yes, thank you, spills from her lips as she turns to her small chart table and pretends to search through some parchments.

Sugar leaves with her sack of dirty laundry, curious what the future holds for her and Brittany as Santana sinks deeper into her thoughts of another life.

The stars are bright in the night sky, and the ocean is calm as the ship makes its way steadily towards the island Brittany's come to know as home, even though she doesn't know the location of it on a map, nor what it's called. It's warm, but a gentle, salty breeze teases her as she relaxes on the forecastle under the soft glow of the lamp lights and the dazzling shine of the moon. Lord lies, sprawled and purring, in her lap, content, and it's quiet moments like this that make Brittany appreciate her new life and understand why the pirates have chosen this path. Kurt had informed her that they had less than a week of travel left at least three days ago, so she knows they must be close to their destination. Despite the fact that she will miss the calm of the ocean under the stars, she's definitely looking forward to a long, hot bath, and a full night's rest stretched out in her bed, rickety though it may be.

Lord's ears prick up in warning long before Brittany hears the soft tapping of boots moving toward them. The plump feline tenses for a moment before he bolts from her lap, and moments later, she hears Santana curse lightly, followed by Lord's excited meows of greeting. Brittany turns her head, watching as Lord weaves in and out of Santana's legs, rubbing against her boots incessantly and purring loudly all the while. She catches her laugh behind her hand, gaining the pirate's attention.

Brittany runs her hands over her pants shyly, smiling to herself. "He likes you."

"I wish he didn't."

But Brittany knows better- she's seen the side of Santana that protects and cares for the feline at her feet- everyone has. The only sound for a moment is the waves lapping against the ship and Lord's loud purring, and then Santana clears her throat nervously. "I didn't mean to interrupt-"

"It's fine, Quartermaster," Brittany reassures quickly, desperate for Santana not to leave. She craves the woman's presence- a presence she's felt she's been starved of recently, and even though there's an air of unease between them due to their prior encounters, Brittany would rather be near Santana with that unease than the alternative. She feels herself tensing anxiously, waiting for Santana to reject her as usual, and then Santana does the opposite- she moves closer.

But with Lord circling her feet, she stumbles, and the tension dissipates.

"All right, all right, blasted cat-" Santana growls, reaching down to pick up the soft, furry creature. She cradles him in her arms and pets him, and the sight is so shocking that it makes Brittany laugh in disbelief. The sound makes Santana smile, and their eyes meet.

"Sit?" Brittany breathes, motioning beside her, her heart pounding as her hopes climb higher.

Santana releases her breath slowly. "Sure." She sits down next to Brittany, cautious to keep some distance, but longing to be closer, closer. She feels the tension building as Lord settles into her lap, hyper-aware of the way Brittany's breaths have grown shorter, the way her own heart is hammering.

Brittany nearly shivers with the desire to be closer, to touch Santana, to kiss her, but she holds herself in check with great difficulty, her hands gripping the edge of the deck where she sits so tightly her fingers ache. Longing for Santana is so much easier when Santana isn't right next to her, and now that her proximity is so close that Brittany can feel her warmth, can inhale her scent, it's far more challenging trying to convince herself not to hold her hand, or stroke her cheek, or kiss her. Instead, she's left staring at her full lips, waiting for Santana to say something, anything, to break the silence between them, her body vibrating from restraint.

Santana licks her lips, trying to think of words, herself, because Brittany's blatantly staring at her mouth and her eyes are swirling with obvious desire. "I was wrong, Songbird," she starts softly. "You are more than just a slave."

Grateful for the distraction from her thoughts- remembering the way Santana's lips taste- Brittany refocuses her gaze on Santana's eyes. "Why do you call me that?"

Santana smiles, averting her eyes down to her lap to avoid the question. Lord stands and turns in her lap, his tail alert, and she scratches under his chin absently. Brittany watches them interact and knows that it's obvious why Lord likes Santana- even if Santana pretends like she doesn't know.

When Lord steps carefully over to Brittany's lap, Santana looks up at the sky silently, contemplating her answer to Brittany's question. She's not sure how to explain the feelings behind the nickname- at first she had called her that simply as a joke, without knowing how it would suit her. She decides that showing her would be easiest, and carefully reaches to unbutton her shirt.

Brittany pets Lord, but bites her lip, listening to the slow, cautious way Santana's fingers slide along her buttons, the teasing rustle of fabric deafening to her ears. When Santana slips the shirt from her left shoulder, Brittany holds her breath. Santana pulls her hair to the right side and turns her back to Brittany, uncovering the flawless, bare skin of her shoulder blade. Brittany cannot help but rake her eyes over the suddenly exposed skin, and she's surprised as her gaze is drawn to an unexpectedly colorful spot- a tattoo. The very minimal lines depict a beautiful, small bird in flight, surrounded by a wave in the shape of a circle. Brittany forgets how to breathe for a moment, her eyes tracing the art, and wonders how she had never seen it before, despite having seen Santana naked many times. The memory floods her cheeks- and her chest- with heat.

"They say swallows are a sailor's good omen," Santana starts quietly, gazing peacefully at the sky. "They mean many things. This one," she shrugs her shoulder before she slips her shirt back up over it, "means I've sailed five thousand sea miles." She straightens up and begins to re-button her shirt, turning to look at Brittany's reaction.

"Wow," Brittany whispers, and her genuine admiration makes Santana smile.

"Yeah," she nods. She turns her gaze back to the ocean. "They sing."

Brittany swallows, her mouth feeling dry. She has no idea what Santana's talking about, but she doesn't really care if she understands. Santana's brown eyes look impossibly soft, and warm, and she feels her heart pounding in her chest despite sitting still. When Santana turns those same eyes towards her, Brittany feels as if she's falling, a swooping feeling in her chest taking over her senses.

"Brittany..." Santana starts, and she reaches slowly for her hand, which is resting beside her thigh on the deck. Involuntarily, Brittany flinches from the touch, from the soreness in her wrist, which lingers. Concerned, Santana releases her hand. "It hurts still?"

"It's nothing," she breathes, unwilling to let go, reaching for Santana's hand through the minor pain. Her heart is still pounding; she's dying to know what Santana meant to say. Instead, Santana takes her hand- far more gently than before- and lifts it, palm up, to her mouth, pressing her lips to the inside of Brittany's wrist.

Brittany's breath hitches from the touch, and she trembles as Santana's lips move inches higher to press another kiss, her mouth parting slightly against her skin, and then higher, to her lower forearm, where she can feel the pirate's heavy breaths mirror her own. With each kiss, she ends up a fraction closer, and then their eyes meet, the intensity stealing her breath completely. Santana's face gravitates closer, and Brittany drops her gaze to Santana's lips as their foreheads touch and their noses bump.

And then Lord springs back into Santana's lap, causing the pirate to laugh and pull away, and Brittany's heart feels like it's going to take off into flight. She looks down at Lord, who glares at them knowingly- he's not having the lack of attention they're giving him, and she reaches to pet his back, trying to regain her senses.

Santana pets Lord for a moment before she rises, sending him back to Brittany's lap and causing Brittany's stomach to sink with disappointment. "I get it, Lord," she murmurs. "I interrupted your cuddle session." She reaches her arms over her head, stretching, her shirt riding up slightly and exposing the taut muscles in the small of her back, which doesn't help to slow Brittany's racing pulse.

She takes a few steps, and Lord's ears perk up with interest, his body tensing as if to follow, but she tells him, stay with Britt. She looks at Brittany for a moment, studying her. Her eyes fall to her lips before she finally says, "Thank you for saving my best friend's life."

Her chest feeling suddenly tight, Brittany nods. "I thought about what you said," she whispers. "He would've done the same for me."

Santana feels too many emotions at once, and she's sure she could convey none of them properly in that moment, so she simply says, "Good night, Songbird."

Brittany listens to Santana leave, and then she's alone on the forecastle with just Lord, who settles down contentedly in her lap, and her thoughts. Since she's still on the ship, Santana must've given up her mission to leave her at the Beiste, which is more than fine with her, though she doesn't know what changed her mind- she hopes it was because Santana has grown to care for her. She replays their recent interaction in her mind, still unsure what Santana was trying to tell her, but remembering the dark way Santana stared at her lips, and trying to stop the ache between her legs from driving her crazy. She grins, thinking about how Santana cradled Lord like a baby in her arms, and then, the grin widens as she realizes:

Santana called her Britt.

The thought fills her with an unexplainable joy; she's had her name shortened many times before, by many different people, including Kurt and Sugar, but Santana's never used such affection, and it makes her heart pound in a different way.

She lets the happy feeling carry her through the rest of the night.

Two days from pulling in- from home- and Brittany's up early to start her day, which is not unusual. There's always a lot to do in the galley. After she dresses and washes her face, Brittany heads up to the kitchen to begin her breakfast preparations, working through most of the morning, her mood still elevated from her encounter with Santana the night before. Despite having spent time the night before thinking about it after Santana left, she's no closer to figuring out the meaning behind Santana's cryptic words than she was when she spoke them to her. So when Kurt enters the galley an hour or so into her lunch prep, and she pauses in her task of peeling potatoes to greet him, she decides that maybe she's ready to ask his expertise.

"Kurt, do you have any tattoos?"

Kurt pauses from putting on his apron to give her a curious look. "Yes, several."

"And if I may ask- of what are your tattoos?"

Kurt finds the topic extremely random, but decides to answer anyway, sure Brittany's reason will make itself known eventually. He hesitates, taking a mental inventory of his body art, then gestures to his thigh. "I have a Pegasus here," he says. Then, he points to his right shoulder, "and a- well, an anchor, I guess- here, with a knot. And on my right shoulder blade I have a swallow..."

Kurt tries to pretend not to notice how Brittany perks at the mention of a swallow, but her face betrays her obvious interest and he can't help but shake his head in amusement at how easy she is to read.

"What does that mean?"

Kurt laughs at her eagerness. "What? The swallow?" At her nod, he presses, "Why suddenly so curious?"

Brittany blushes. "Santana showed me her tattoo last night-"

"Uh-huh," Kurt teases, and Brittany blushes harder. "And I'm assuming the one she showed you was the swallow."

Her eyes widen. "She has more than one?"

Kurt rolls his eyes, shooting Brittany a teasing grin. "A swallow can mean many things, but most common is as a marker for sailing five thousand miles at sea."

"That is the meaning she gave," Brittany agrees. "But she mentioned that swallows are a sailor's good omen. How?"

"They can help guide one to land if they lose their way," Kurt explains with a nod. "Many sailors associate a swallow with the feeling of home, and it can symbolize a wish for a safe journey." Brittany's mind struggles to process his words- home. A swallow is a symbol for home. Does Santana view her in that way? Could she have those types of feelings for her? She thinks back to the very few times Santana has opened up to her, and how she had confessed that Brittany means a lot to her. Could it be possible that Brittany represents that feeling for her? Her heart hammers at the thought.

"A safe journey," Mike repeats as he enters the galley, offering them both a smile. "Discussing swallows?"

"Yes," Brittany returns his smile before casually reaching for another potato. "Have you one?"

"No," Mike admits. "I was never much for the spiritual tattoos. The dragon on my back is an homage to my father."

"Spiritual?" Brittany wonders. "Swallows hold such meaning for you?"

"Of course! In my culture, they are sacred."

"They carry a sailor's soul to the afterlife when they die," Kurt says quietly, and it takes Brittany a moment to realize that the culture Mike's referring to is the very-same culture she, herself, is immersed in- pirate culture. She would have never believed that pirates- the people she once thought of as savages- would have such a thing as culture, or morals, or values, or any sort of code. Every day she spends with them, she is taught differently, and it's pleasantly surprising. Every new thing she learns reassures her that being a pirate isn't choosing to lose her humanity to descend into wild, demonic barbarity. She can just be her.

She tunes back into the conversation just as Kurt asks, "What brings you to the galley, Mike?"

"I'm here for Brittany, actually," he admits, moving closer. He looks at her, concerned. "Santana told me your wrist was causing you pain?"

"Santana?" Kurt asks in disbelief. Brittany's mouth drops open slightly from shock as Mike takes her arm gently between his fingers, inspecting carefully.

"Yeah," Mike says, moving his inspection from her wrist, up to her shoulder. "She stormed into my quarters this morning and demanded I check on Brittany before-" he catches himself, "-before we port."

Kurt shoots her a knowing look over Mike's shoulder, but Brittany's too lost in thought to notice Mike's stumble of words. He presses fingertips into her shoulder, prodding, and it does hurt a little, but nowhere near a level that would require her to visit him in the infirmary. The thought of Santana concerned enough about her to visit Mike on her behalf makes her feel warm, and remembering her lips on her wrist the night before has her heart accelerating against her will. Her annoyance spikes suddenly in frustration- how does Santana elicit such a response from her simply from a memory? Even without her presence?

"Well, it feels like everything is still in place from when I fixed it," Mike says as he releases her arm, sounding relieved. Brittany wonders if Santana threatened him, and the thought makes her smile despite her frustration.

"It's sore, is all," Brittany mumbles, blushing fiercely. "I promise, I'm fine."

"Well, make sure you continue to coddle it," he instructs, and she's about to half-heartedly agree when Jake rushes into the galley, bursting with energy, with Sugar on his flank.

"It's time!" he practically shouts.

"We've reached land already?" Brittany asks incredulously, lowering the potato she's holding. "I thought we'd two more days!"

Kurt sets the basket of vegetables he'd been carrying down on the counter. He shoots a look to Jake, then to Mike, and finally to Brittany. He smiles. "Come with me."

Confused, but not disobedient, Brittany rises, wiping her hands on her apron before removing it and following Kurt, Mike, Jake and Sugar up to the main deck. When she reaches the outside, squinting as her eyes adjust to the brightness of the sun, Brittany can't help but notice the crowd of pirates gathered around the main mast, including the captain. Beside him, Santana stands, beautiful under the golden rays of the sun, and Brittany feels her pulse quicken, as it always does whenever she sees the woman. Kurt leads her into the crowd, and Brittany feels nervous, unsure what is happening, since a quick look around reveals they are nowhere close to land. For a moment, she panics, fearing that perhaps it has become time for her to finally walk the plank, but as Kurt offers her a smile, she attempts to calm her fears- he would never let that happen. She glances at Santana, whose expression gives nothing away, but her eyes are soft, and Brittany feels marginally better.

"Brittany Pierce," Puck calls, his voice loud and commanding in a way Brittany's rarely heard, and she's compelled to obey as he says, "front and center." She moves before the captain, her heart racing and her thoughts flying in every direction as he clears his throat.

"You've served us well these past few months," he tells her. "You've proven yourself hard-working, loyal, and invaluable. So it is by unanimous decision of my officers- and myself- that we grant you, and your companion, Sugar, freedom."

Freedom.

The word echoes in her mind, her brain struggling to grasp what it even means after so many months in captivity.

"Freedom?" she whispers, disbelieving, incredulous.

"Yes," Puck confirms. "But with this freedom, you have a decision to make: what now?"

"You've seen that this life is dangerous," Kurt says gently from behind her left side. She turns to look at him, listening intently to his words. "It will not get easier... which is why you must be the one to decide whether or not to continue sailing with us."

Santana, who stands with her arms crossed, chimes in with her smoky, strong voice, and Brittany nearly melts from the authoritative sound. "It's not the slow, carefree life you were used to, Songbird. If you decide to stay with us, your duties will remain the same, but with an important change- you will train, under David, in self-defense." Brittany spares a glance at the man in question, who's leaning against the deck railing, his right shoulder heavily bandaged. His face shows no emotion, but his eyes are soft as he stares at her. "There will be no exceptions to this," Santana continues. "You will earn wage- just as we all do- from now on, and be expected to contribute to our missions."

Brittany lets her breath out slowly, processing. She'd already decided days ago that she wanted to join the pirates as a full part of the crew- the fact that the pirates initiated her conversion from a slave is almost too good to believe. Still, curiosity makes her ask, "And if I refuse?"

Santana's eyes harden slightly and her tone grows a fraction colder as she says, "We will leave you at the port of your choice- even Argo, if that's what you desire."

The crowd of pirates break out into hushed conversations, speculating the outcome of this meeting, but Brittany's stunned. "Truly?"

Kurt smiles. "Yes, Britt. You and Sugar have earned the right to choose. We've all agreed to it- and the terms."

Despite having made her decision previously, she doubts herself in the moment. She can't just make this decision lightly, especially now that the terms have been laid out; she will have to train with David... and what of Sugar? Surely she can't decide to stay if Sugar wishes to leave, can she?

"You don't have to decide now," Mike whispers to her, and as if on cue, Puck raises his hand up to gain everyone's attention.

"When we port, you will tell us your decision," he states with a sense of finality. Then he waves his hand, dismissing them. Brittany disperses with the crowd, feeling as if she floats all the way back to the galley, wondering if the previous events had actually taken place. Once she enters the safety of the kitchen, she immediately turns to Sugar, releasing an awkward, nervous breath.

"Well- I did not expect this."

"I did," Sugar admits neutrally with a shrug.

"How?"

"Master Santana asked me days ago what my decision would be if given the choice, so it clued me in to the fact that this was coming."

"You're free now, Sugar," Kurt reminds her as he enters the galley and grabs up his apron. "You don't have to refer to Santana as Master."

"She is still the Quartermaster," Sugar points out. "And I have never been truly free, not since I was a child."

Brittany bites her lip, deciding not to unpack the layers of emotions that are surely buried in Sugar's statement at that moment. Instead, she asks, "What did you say?"

"To whom?"

Brittany sighs. "Santana."

"Oh... I told her the truth- that you are my best friend and that I wouldn't be parted from your side." Sugar shrugs again, nonchalantly. "That means it's your decision, Britt. I go where you go."

"Thank you." Touched that their friendship means so much to Sugar, Brittany smiles. She's grateful for her friend's loyalty, but then she wonders- could she really decide to stay with the pirates if it meant her friend was miserable? Is her happiness worth the happiness of her best friend, who has been nothing but true to her? "I wish for you to remain by my side, as well, but I could not decide to stay without knowing- could you be happy here?"

Sugar looks at her, offering her a genuine smile. "Honestly? I am happy here. I have companionship, position, and am soon to earn wage in order to procure anything that I may currently be missing. That may not be enough for you, Britt, but it's more than enough for me."

Brittany smiles in return, reflecting on how much her friend has grown, changed since they were captured. She wonders if Sugar sees the same growth and change in her that she feels, herself. "I understand. And you're fine to train with David?"

Sugar laughs. "I am already well-versed in self-defense. Your father had me trained to protect you, if ever the time arose where I must. I do not require training."

"Oh," Brittany breathes, surprised at the news. So it's only her that'll be training with David, then. Grand.

Kurt pointedly sets the basket of vegetables on the table next to Brittany. "There'll be plenty of time to think about that later. There's still meals to prepare."

She'd made up her mind already, days ago. She could find no fault in her reasons for staying, either, no matter how many times she questioned them- they were sound, they made sense. Sugar had given her blessing, professed her happiness, and truthfully, she is happy, herself.

So, why, then, does she doubt her decision? Why does she worry she's making the wrong choice?

After helping to get the ship unpacked, she'd been given the remainder of the day to rest and prepare for the bonfire that evening, where she would present the captain- and Santana- and her friends- with her final decision, a decision she'd spent the last few hours questioning. She sinks into the hot bath she's been dreaming of for days- a rare luxury in her new life that would be a common occurrence on Argo- and wracks her brain over and over, trying to convince herself to leave, to take the easy road- but-

The easy road doesn't have Santana.

She sighs and stares up at the ceiling, leaning back against the metal tub wall, her bare arms dangling over the edge. If she could just escape the spell Santana has cast over her, then she could enjoy the life she deserves...

No- she knows that's not quite true, either. It's not just Santana's charms that hold her back, that keep her from leaving. She enjoys her new life. She has friends- real friends, that would risk their lives for her, not just royals who visit to boast about their riches and probably haven't thought about her since she disappeared. She knows it will never be easy with the pirates, but there's got to be more to her existence than the boring, pampered life she knew, the life that's waiting for her on Argo. Is she a fool for choosing a dangerous life, one where she struggles to survive, over a carefree one in a tropical paradise? Is she crazy for choosing to work endlessly for wage instead of enjoying a prepaid life- one that cost her nothing but perhaps a few months as a slave- where everything would be handed to her? Is she truly ready to give all that up?

And yet... had she ever been truly happy in that life?

So as she stands before Puck on the beach of what Brittany guesses is the interior bay of their island- since the Tide Ripper is nearby, but Brittany can't see the ocean- she knows what her answer will be. She has so much more to learn, to accomplish, to experience- and Argo will always be there.

Puck is dressed in his finest outfit for the occasion, which doesn't go unnoticed by Brittany, who appreciates the obvious effort. A glance at Santana reveals that she's wearing her usual soft, black shirt, but the sleeves are rolled up to her elbows and the top lace is undone. Brittany feels her heart starting to race at the sight of her unreal beauty. The sun is starting to set, casting an orange glow across the gathered crowd, and Brittany waits patiently- though nervous- for what Kurt described as a ceremony to begin.

Sugar stands beside her, and her presence is comforting. They had agreed beforehand that Brittany would make the final decision, so when Puck calls her forward, Sugar shoots her a smile and a discreet thumbs-up for encouragement.

"It's time to decide," Puck says loudly, more for the gathered pirates' benefit than for hers, Brittany knows. "Stay- become one of us..."

Santana speaks next, her voice sharp but not unkind as she recites her line of the ceremony. "We carry a reputation; the land-lovers call us pirates. Our enemies call us savages. But we are a family."

"...Or leave at first light, to a destination of your choosing." Puck pauses for dramatic effect, making Brittany internally laugh, and then he points to her expectantly. "Decide now."

Brittany takes a deep breath. For a brief second she imagines herself on Argo- sipping some exotic fruit and sunbathing on the beach, surrounded by trees very similar to the ones surrounding her now. Her contacts would still be there, with coin Sam had sent ahead of her journey to fund her stay. She would be carefree, worry free, and... she looks at Santana, and when her stomach flips, she mentally says good-bye to Argo.

"I wish to stay." She takes another slow, deep breath, recalling the words Kurt had told her. "I wish to stay and be initiated as a member of the Tide Ripper."

Puck smiles. "Then you are our family, now." He gestures to Jake, who's holding a lit torch that he carries forward. Jake hands the torch to Puck, who then holds it out to Brittany. "Light the fire. And know that tonight we will celebrate in honor of our new family."

Brittany gingerly accepts the torch- which is heavier than she thought it would be- and carefully carries it to a meticulously-piled pyre in the center of the beach. Slowly, she lights the top of the pile, where she hopes she's supposed to, and the wood catches immediately. Within seconds, a roaring wall of flames has engulfed the pile before her. Kurt had told her the night before- when he explained how everything would go- that the fire was meant to represent the end of her previous life, but to Brittany, it represents the end of her dream of Argo. So as the fire flickers in her eyes, raging ever higher, she takes a deep breath, finally at peace with her decision. She has been reborn as a pirate, and she has a new dream now.

She throws the torch onto the pile in finality, and once it touches, Puck gives a shout.

"To Brittany! To Sugar!"

"To Brittany! To Sugar!" the gathered pirate crowd repeats in a cheer, and almost immediately, energetic music starts up, and Brittany watches as the pirates crack open several barrels of spirits, passing around mugs and cups, and just like that, the ceremony transforms into a celebration.

Puck raises a glass that someone handed him from nowhere, throws his head back, and downs his entire mug in their honor, much to the delight of the pirates, who cheer and egg their captain on, clinking their glasses together with joy. Hands clap in time, whiskey sloshes, and the sound of music, of instruments, becomes even more vigorous, taking the already-elevated mood and flying it even higher. Brittany is congratulated over and over, receiving handshakes, slaps on the back, and even a slap on the butt (from David.) Her cup never goes below half full, and though the random assortment of liquors the pirates fill it with (from their own cups) don't necessarily align with her tastes, if she's now truly a pirate then she must learn to drink like one, so she forces it down. All of it is surreal, and Brittany thinks she must still be sleeping most of the time, the alcohol contributing to her trance-like state. Her friends take turns trading drinks with her, Mike hugs her- congrats, Green Bean!- and Matt presents her with a beautiful, polished wooden marlinspike that he had carved himself, because, I knew you'd be here one day.

Sugar is also the center of the celebration, though she spends her time with Jake by her side. Brittany watches her, overjoyed down to her soul that she was able to keep the promise she made so many months ago; her best friend is safe, happy, even, and most importantly- free. It's more than she could've ever hoped, given how their situation started so direly. She smiles as Sugar laughs loudly, noticing that Jake is a very attentive partner who dutifully fills her cup, steadies her drunken steps, and guides her when she wants to change her conversation partners. It causes a sharp pang of jealousy; Brittany wants to be sharing this joyous event, this cause of celebration, this important night, with someone specific. She scans the crowd for Santana, finding her not immediately within view. It concerns her slightly, so she begins a search.

Pirates stop her along the way, talking drunken nonsense and congratulations, chugging various liquors with her, and just generally being merry. She wonders how many of them were slaves before they earned their freedom as she has done, how many of them experienced the same ceremony she had just experienced. She supposes she has all the time in the world to find out, now that she's one of them... but that's a task for later. Right now, she's craving something else.

She slowly makes her way through the gathering, her cup filling up twice more on her winding route, and finally, she spots the outline of the figure she's searching for near the edge of the beach, in the shadow of a large tree, the bonfire's light flicking shadows across her dark features. As she moves closer, she notices that Santana's leaning against the trunk of the tree, clutching a large cup and watching the crowd intently, until Brittany comes into view.

"Quartermaster," Brittany greets.

"Songbird," Santana protests, her brows furrowing. "You are a pirate, now."

"And you are still my quartermaster."

"I am Santana."

"And I am Brittany..."

Santana turns her attention back to the crowd, a small, amused smile gracing her lips. "So you are. This is your night, Britt- enjoy it."

Brittany bites her lip, daringly moving closer. "I plan to." She scans her eyes over Santana, who's leaning heavily against the tree. "How drunk are you?"

"I'm standing, aren't I?"

"And how much support is the tree providing?"

"Most of it," Santana laughs, the sound free and delightful. She looks at her, her brown eyes warm and smoldering in the firelight. She holds out her cup, a challenging smirk gracing her features, and Brittany accepts it without hesitation, her head spinning both from how much she's already consumed and the way Santana's smile makes her feel. She takes a hesitant sip, expecting something strong and barely drinkable, but the taste of the rum is sweet, nutty- different than anything she's ever tasted.

"What is this?" Brittany wonders, and at Santana's nod, she takes another huge gulp that drains the cup before handing it back empty. She needs all the liquid courage she can get. "It's delicious."

"Bumbo," Santana says as she takes the cup back, as if that explains it. Brittany moves even closer, and Santana hums thoughtfully, as if suddenly remembering something important. "I have something for you."

"What is it?" Brittany whispers, leaning in, her forehead brushing Santana's. The alcohol urges her forward, emboldens her, and she lets it carry her until their noses touch. She sucks in a shaky breath, her desire so powerful that she cannot resist, and Santana's mouth opens just barely as Brittany closes the distance and their lips meet, slow and sensual. Brittany kisses her, feeling dizzy, feeling light, feeling invincible. She nearly giggles from giddiness at finally being able to kiss Santana the way she's wanted to for days. She knows her movements are slow, and that her kiss is a little sloppy, but Santana's drunker than her, and gods, she wants it so badly. She memorizes the way Santana tastes- like rum and her own unique flavor- and when Santana bites her lower lip, the ache between her legs grows nearly unbearable, and Brittany wonders if they'd still be doing this if they weren't drunk-

But she doesn't exactly care all that much. Not tonight.

"Britt," Santana mumbles against her, tracing slow fingers down her jaw, down her neck, and leaving Brittany's skin tingling. Her smooth tongue swipes across Brittany's lower lip and Brittany's mouth opens automatically, and when their tongues meet Brittany feels her sex throb in response. They stumble around the tree, deeper into shadow. Santana pushes forward, and Brittany finds her back to another tree, with Santana pressing her into the rough bark, her arms trapping her on either side as the kiss deepens further. Brittany's glad the tree is supporting her, because her legs feel weak and her mind is spinning again, both from the alcohol and from the feel of Santana sucking her lower lip. She wants so badly to touch- and maybe it's the rum, feeding her courage, or maybe it's the fact that she's now a full pirate, equal in status as the rest of the ship, but she reaches her hands forward blindly for Santana's waist. Then, with a boldness she didn't know she had, she slides those same hands down to grab Santana's ass. The action makes them both moan, and the positive feedback encourages Brittany to roughly pull Santana's hips closer, squeezing her hands. When Santana's hips grind into hers, Brittany breaks the kiss to gasp, the pressure and the movement sending intense jolts of pleasure through her body.

Once their mouths part for a moment, Santana pulls back, repeating, "I have something for you."

Brittany struggles to catch her breath, panting, her mind still focused on the way Santana felt pressed against her seconds before. "That wasn't it?"

Santana smiles, a sexy smile, and Brittany feels that unbearable ache again, her heart slamming in her chest, her stomach tight with tension. She doesn't want to stop kissing Santana, but then Santana shakes her head slowly and backs away from her completely. "Come with me and find out," she teases, and Brittany's heart skips a beat as she follows her, stumbling a little, into the dark woods and back to the large, decayed castle the pirates repurposed as their fortress. Brittany has been inside it frequently in the performance of her various ordinary chores as a slave, and to Santana's room, specifically, many times. So as Santana leads her into the castle and down the familiar route to her room, she feels her stomach fluttering with hope and happiness, elevated by the alcohol- or bumbo, as Santana had called it.

When they reach the final intersection before Santana's room, Santana pauses to turn to her, but Brittany doesn't stop, instead closing the distance between them and bringing her face in close again, desperate for contact.

"I knew you would stay," Santana confesses softly, her words beginning to slur. "So I had your new quarters prepared."

Brittany nods absently, her gaze falling to Santana's lips. "I want to kiss you again," she breathes.

Santana grins slyly, her eyes full of mischief as she pulls away, wobbling only slightly. "Not yet. We're almost there."

She leads Brittany forward through the intersection instead of the usual right that would take them to her quarters, and then pauses at the first door on the right. At least, that's what Brittany discerns through the haze of alcohol she's currently in. She's pretty sure she wouldn't remember how to get to this room again if someone asked, but that's the least of her worries as Santana grabs the door handle, then looks over her shoulder at her. "Are you ready?"

Brittany smiles encouragingly, finding it adorable that Santana is clearly excited about preparing her a room- even if it is her job as Quartermaster. Santana turns the handle and pushes the door open dramatically, then takes a step back, proud of herself. At her prompt, Brittany enters and is pleasantly surprised to find it much more spacious than the one she owned as a slave, down in the castle dungeon. Though the room is spinning and her heart is racing, she processes that she has an armoire, and a vanity- with a mirror. She grins, remembering that she will be earning wage now, so she will be able to fill her new armoire with clothes. Her intoxicated mind drifts off for a moment, thinking about buying things, having things, and how satisfying it will be to earn it herself instead of having everything handed to her-

"Do you like it?" Santana breathes from behind her- very close behind her, and it's then that Brittany notices that she has a rather decently-sized bed. She swallows, her heart hammering madly.

"Yes," she whispers, her stomach tensing. She bites her lip as she feels Santana's lips brush her shoulder, burning her even through her shirt. Santana reaches up to tug Brittany's collar lower, exposing the muscle at the base of her neck, and then seconds later, Santana's soft, wet lips are there. Brittany trembles, the desire in her threatening to overwhelm her completely. Santana's lips travel up her neck to the spot just below her ear. Brittany never knew that spot had the power to make her lose her senses- no one had ever kissed it before- but the way Santana's lips feel-

She turns, her eyes dark and fiery, and suddenly they're kissing again, wild and fierce. Brittany's heart soars, her pulse pounds everywhere, and her hands are clenching Santana's silky shirt before she even realizes she'd moved.

Santana's hands grab her ass, crashing their hips together, and when her thigh slips between Brittany's legs to push forward against her sex, Brittany gasps in her mouth, her hips bucking forward in response, desperate for more. Santana bites her lower lip savagely, then soothes the bite with a swipe of her velvet tongue, and Brittany's knees feel weak again, her thoughts lose focus, her head is spinning faster from the feel of Santana, the alcohol, Santana-

Brittany lets her hands roam, her liquid courage taking the lead as she cups Santana's face sweetly, lovingly, as they kiss. She decides, right then, that she loves kissing Santana, with her soft, full lips, and her devil's tongue-

Santana guides them backwards, and as she expected, she's on her back once again- on her new bed- with Santana hovering above her. Teasingly, Santana flexes her thigh, pushing it forward just enough to give Brittany the friction she craves, and Brittany sucks in mouthfuls of air as her hips rut against Santana's thigh almost involuntarily. She struggles to breathe as the pressure builds so powerfully that Brittany feels as if her body can't contain it. She shuts her eyes to keep the room from spinning, concentrating instead on Santana's thigh pressed between her legs, and she's only vaguely aware of Santana's mouth on her neck, Santana's hands opening her belt, tugging- and then Brittany's lifting her hips automatically, allowing the rough fabric of her pants and the softer fabric of her undergarments to slide down her legs. She has seconds to process before Santana's fingers touch her slick, sensitive skin, and Brittany's shaking with anticipation, unsure of what to expect, almost in disbelief that this is even happening- until Santana's fingers stroke over her aching clit, causing Brittany to cry out from how hard the pleasure hits her.

Without hesitation, Santana pulls her hand away and slides the fingers coated in Brittany's wetness into her mouth, moaning wantonly at the taste, which she'd been fantasizing about ever since that time in the brothel. And with her heart pounding wildly, and the taste of Brittany urging her on, she moves lower, pushing Brittany's shirt up as she goes to expose her stomach, where her lips land slowly, sensually.

Brittany gasps and squirms, her drunk mind struggling to keep up, to figure out what's going to happen; she has no idea what to expect, she only knows that she wants Santana so much that it almost hurts. Is Santana going to-?

"Do you want it?" Santana breathes over the V of her hip, so soft Brittany's not totally sure she said anything, and she squirms again from pleasure. She has a wild, drunken idea what it is, but she's not completely sure, especially in her inebriated state. However, all of her is completely sure that she wants Santana so bad-

"Yes."

Dark hair tickles Brittany's inner thigh as Santana's mouth moves lower, lower, and Brittany's not sure where to put her hands- until Santana's tongue flicks out to test her entrance, and then she's automatically grabbing fistfuls of the sheets by her sides in response, her mouth dropping open in shocked pleasure. She's not sure what she expected, but it's not what she's experiencing. Santana licks her, prodding at her entrance with her tongue, teasing her clit, and Brittany watches, gasping for air, feeling the knot in her stomach winding tighter and tighter. She can't believe this is happening, that someone could put their mouth on her the way Santana's doing, but it feels so incredible that she doesn't ever want it to stop. Santana presses her palms to Brittany's inner thighs, holding her open, forcing her not to clench, building even more tension, and when Brittany watches Santana's lips wrap around her clit, and their eyes meet, and Santana sucks, her hips lift off the bed as she falls apart. Thighs shaking, Brittany rides the waves of pleasure under Santana's hot mouth, which is still-

When Santana finally releases her, Brittany melts into her bed, her fists still clenching the sheets, still struggling to catch her breath. Santana licks her lips, sighing at the taste, and kisses her stomach again, fondly, her lips still wet with Brittany's arousal. She wants more. The sight of Brittany coming for her was beyond anything she could have imagined, and she's overtaken with the sudden desire to fuck the life out of her. She slides her left hand up the inside of Brittany's thigh, but once she reaches Brittany's still dripping center, she hesitates for the same reasons she always has. She knows Brittany's never been with another- is she ready, now, to be her first? Is she ready for that kind of responsibility and commitment? The thought still scares her. She knows this thing with Brittany can never just be about the act itself, like it's been with so many others, no matter how bad she wants it to be- not with the way her heart is pounding. Not with the way her hips press into the bed, desperate for friction, for release. She's never been so riled up in her life. She's sure if she even thought about touching herself, she'd come. She growls in frustration.

And then Brittany looks at her again, blonde hair spilling over her shoulders, their eyes meeting in an intense, soul-baring stare. Her liquid courage slips away. She can't- she can't give that kind of control to Brittany. It has to just be about sex, but she doesn't know how to make it that way.

Brittany tenses at the feel of Santana's hand on her inner thigh, and she sits up a little, her thoughts fuzzy, her body still trembling with after shocks. Her conversation with Sugar comes back to her, and she remembers her desire for unity, for a connection. She swallows, still aching, needing something, needing Santana inside her- but with her head still spinning, her feelings unvoiced, she knows she can't give herself to Santana like this- she wants there to be more-

"Santana," Brittany breathes, shivering. Santana's eyes have darkened, and she can feel her energy changing, she just doesn't know what that means. She wishes the room would stop moving.

"Fuck, I want you," Santana groans against her hip before kissing there, making Brittany tense, both from the words and the feel of her lips.

"I want you, too," Brittany whispers, her sex still aching, betraying her. "But-"

"But what? There's a lot of talking happening," Santana murmurs, kissing Brittany's inner thigh, trying to squash any feelings that would make this encounter more than what she wants it to be.

Brittany swallows, struggling to hold onto her thoughts as Santana's mouth moves higher up her thigh. "It's just that we've never spent any time-"

"Time." Santana pauses, lifting her head. She narrows her eyes at Brittany. "What do you mean?"

Feeling rejected, Brittany looks away. "I just- I don't just want your body, Santana."

"What?" Santana's stomach drops as the realization hits her- she will never be able to just have sex with Brittany. Brittany's ruined it, now- she's confessed that this isn't enough, and disappointment eats at her as she shakes her head slowly. "What else do you want?"

"Friendship. A relationship. I want-" Brittany starts, but the sound of Santana's harsh, bitter laughter makes her stop, her mouth falling open incredulously. She glares down at the woman still resting between her thighs. "What's funny?"

Santana sits up. "You're serious?"

"Deadly."

Santana takes a slow, deep breath. She doesn't know how to explain to Brittany that she can't give her what she wants. Not because she doesn't want to- but because she can't. Why couldn't she just enjoy the moment?

"Well, I don't do that. Relationships, I mean. Never have," she shrugs. "Never will."

Brittany's heart shatters. "Never?"

Santana shrugs again, indifferent, helpless, and Brittany can't believe her words. She tries to process through her intoxication, though her head feels wobbly. She's still coming down from her high of pleasure, but her chest aches with hurt. She sits up, pulling away from Santana, and stumbles to her feet, reaching blindly to pull on her trousers, fixing her shirt-

Santana's eyes widen. "Wait- are you leaving?"

"No," Brittany says, tying her hair up angrily, and trying not to reveal how absolutely destroyed she feels. "You are." She walks to the door, her footsteps feeling like lead, and opens it, looking expectantly at her. Santana blinks, disbelieving, but when Brittany doesn't budge, doesn't smile, she accepts the seriousness of the situation and rises, seeing herself out wordlessly.

Santana's head is pounding the next morning as she trudges sleepily to the kitchen to collect her revolting- but necessary- tea. She vaguely remembers the events of the night before- she knows she lost control with Brittany, evidenced by the taste of her, which still lingers faintly on her lips. She also vividly remembers their conversation, and knows, thanks to the sinking feeling that still exists in her stomach, that it didn't end well. She didn't even have the heart to finish herself off after she got back to her room, either. Did she sleep? She can't remember. Everything hurts, but the tea can only help with the physical pain.

When she enters the kitchen, Brittany is already there, alone and looking unaffected by the amount of alcohol consumed the previous night as she folds eggs into flour with her hands on the large wooden countertop of the kitchen island. Her blonde hair is messy in such an attractive way that Santana licks her lip and is greeted with the reminder of Brittany's taste all over again. Her blood quickens at the memory.

Brittany tenses at the sound of Santana's footsteps entering the kitchen, but knows she's not there for her- though, deep down she hopes Santana will apologize, and take back what she said the previous night, even if it's improbable.

Santana helps herself, ladling some of the lukewarm tea into a mug and then choking it down without any added ingredients to make it palatable- an action she immediately regrets as the stinging bitterness lingers on her tongue long after the drink is gone. Once finished, she studies Brittany, watching the girl work the dough like an expert, which impresses her. She rakes her eyes down the girl's back, to the exposed muscle peeking out beneath her shirt whenever she leans all the way forward, and to her ass, which fills out her pants nicely. The memory of how it felt gripped in her hands the night before comes rushing back, and Santana lets her breath out slowly as she feels her body responding, her headache quickly fading thanks to the tea and replaced instead with the heat of desire. She can only stare, wondering if Brittany will always hold such power over her, even from just a memory.

Once the dough forms, Brittany wipes her forehead with the back of her wrist, unknowingly smearing flour there, and glances at Santana, who's still standing awkwardly by the giant stock pot of tea. She moves across the room to the end of the counter, wiping her hands on her apron as she goes, and grabs a cup which she fills with water from a tapped barrel. Then, deliberately, she takes a long, slow sip, and waits for Santana to leave so she can stop feeling so uneasy.

Santana swallows thickly, unsure how to start a conversation; she finally settles on, "Hi..."

Brittany stares at her indifferently before setting her cup down and walking back to the island to continue her work. "Is the tea not to your liking?"

Santana peers down at her empty cup. "It was disgusting. The worst yet. I'm sure Kurt does it on purpose."

Brittany pauses. "I made the tea this morning."

Santana bites her tongue. Fuck. "Oh. Well-"

"Will that be all, Quartermaster?"

The formality stings for reasons Santana can't name, especially after they had deliberately moved past it last night; all at once, feelings, memories from last night rush over her, and she feels overwhelmed. "Brittany," she sighs. "Can we talk?"

Brittany angrily thrusts her palms into the dough, kneading in a fast, brutal rhythm. "Is that not what we are already doing?"

Santana clenches her teeth. She knows she deserves Brittany's cold shoulder, but she doesn't like it. She just wants Brittany to look at her the way she did last night, with that sparkle in her eyes. She knows they've been through a lot of awkward situations before, though, so she's determined to work through it and salvage whatever friendship they had- could still have- if they move past the awkwardness, so she takes a deep breath and blurts, "I'm sorry about last night."

Brittany stops kneading to look at her, directly into her eyes. "Which part?" She demands.

Completely unprepared for that question, Santana stumbles for her words, unsure how to respond. She knows she's falling into some sort of trap, but-

"All of it."

"All of it?"

"No- not all of it. Just- well, I didn't mean to-"

Brittany raises a questioning eyebrow, her eyes still blazing dark blue into Santana's soft brown, intense and unrelenting, and Santana struggles to control the way her heart races, the way her stomach clenches as a panicked feeling takes over her body. "I didn't mean to hurt you," she mumbles, knowing in her heart that that's the truth. She may not regret telling Brittany that she doesn't want a relationship, but she does regret that it hurt her.

Brittany studies her for a moment. Then, she breaks the eye contact to return to her work. "I understand," she says nonchalantly.

"Do you?" Santana presses, disbelieving, and when Brittany ignores her to continue to pummel the dough, she continues, awkwardly, "So, then do you want to-"

"Careful, Quartermaster," Brittany says, low and full of acid. "You risk sounding as if you want something that you never do."

Stunned into silence, Santana watches Brittany for a moment before she turns to leave, placing her empty cup on the counter. "Thanks for the tea," she mutters as she exits the kitchen, frustration overtaking her, and so strong she feels as if she might cry. She doesn't know what these feelings are, or even what she wants. Perhaps it's too soon to try and talk to Brittany, because she has no idea how to proceed with- with whatever they have. Every road leads to a dead end; she feels trapped. She wants Brittany so badly it hurts, but she can't give in to a relationship- she's too scared, and she's never even had one, before. She doesn't know what to do. But she can't just ignore Brittany, either- she's still so attracted to her, and all she wanted to do was grab a fistful of her hair and kiss the anger out of her.

When she reaches her room, she puts her head in her hands and feels tears welling up in her eyes. She doesn't want to be Brittany's friend- she wants to be inside her. But she's not sure she can handle anything more than that.

She really needs to get her shit together.

The taste of dirt- a specific kind of dirt, the kind that's been walked on for decades, bore the footprints of hundreds of people previously, and probably been in the mouths and wounds of those same, aforementioned people- had become very familiar to Brittany in the span of just a few hours. She spits the gritty substance from her mouth as she climbs to her feet again, facing her opponent and teacher, David, with as much energy as she can muster under the blistering sun.

She'd been given exactly one day to prepare after her celebratory bonfire, and then she was expected to be in the courtyard at sunrise the very next day to begin her training. A week in to her sessions and Brittany feels no closer to being able to defend herself, as David's method of teaching was to let her learn from her mistakes when she got her ass kicked.

"Pain is a good motivator," he's assured her many times over the previous days, and though he's right, Brittany's sure there's probably a better way to go about it. Every night, bruised and sore, she takes stock of her injuries before crawling, exhausted and battered, into her bed, which is at least blessedly comfortable. He never breaks anything- he's very skilled at putting just enough pressure into his blows to make her really try to avoid getting hit- but it's still agonizing.

As she hits the ground yet again, she struggles to remember the reasons why she chose this life over a calm, breezy life on Argo. When David kicks her- somewhat gently, if a kick can be gentle- onto her back, she coughs through the dirt that's once again covering her face. He offers her a hand up, which she graciously accepts, and brushes herself off painfully.

"Finished, Princess?" David asks, his eyebrows raised in challenge.

"Hardly." She takes her stance again, and her reasons for staying resurface in her mind- pride. She's too proud to quit. She will rise to this new challenge, no matter how difficult it is. She can't let her friends down. And- in the back of her mind, she knows she can't let Santana down, despite the fact that her heart still hurts and she hasn't seen the woman in days. Santana's still her Quartermaster.

"Then come at me again."

Brittany's so close to mastering the disarming technique she's been working on. She knows she's close, because David keeps switching up his counterattacks, and she's getting better at predicting his movement-

A sudden blow to her good shoulder knocks her off balance and then she's looking up at the sky, struggling for air as David presses his foot to her chest. "You sure?"

Brittany grips his foot and nods, refusing to let her resolve dissipate. He grins, lifting off of her, and she climbs shakily to her feet.

She's not going to give up.

After another solid week, Brittany's improved dramatically, much to David's surprise given how she'd started. But once she'd mastered the basics, the rest came much more easily. He was continuously impressed with how much control she had over her movements, how quickly she perfected the footwork, how she kept her balance with ease, and dodged almost gracefully and effortlessly. He decided she was ready to move on to actually holding a weapon and had chosen a short, wooden sword to practice with, but she didn't take to the weapon as he'd hoped.

"Swords are your best friends," he'd told her. "They don't gotta be your favorite, but you'll encounter 'em on the battlefield more than anything else, so you gotta know how to use one, 'cuz you never know when you'll find an opportunity to take one."

They trained just in swords for at least another week, and once Brittany had reached a level of skill he was content with, he'd moved on to the next most important thing-

"Throwing knives are vital. You can't always be within stabbin' range of somethin', and you might not be able to carry a bow."

It was then that he realized her strength- she had a good arm. Her shoulder was almost completely healed, so he knew once she was at her full strength she would be unstoppable. She excelled and had incredible aim- throwing knives, axes, javelins, and when he put a bow in her hand, she reminded him how truly versatile the weapon is. He'd tested her in each weapon by fighting her, and observed that she had her own style that blended his formal trainings with intuitive, natural movements, and he was more than amazed.

The final morning of her training, David doesn't speak. Instead, he attacks her, and Brittany, weaponless, ducks and maneuvers away until she finds a sword to turn and confront him with. When she finally overpowers him, and he's pinned with her sword at his neck, he laughs, grinning widely. "I think it's time for you to face The Gauntlet."

Brittany had no idea what The Gauntlet was- or even that it was a part of her training- until David told her she'd be facing it the next morning. She spends the night before wondering what part of training could be worse than the parts she's already endured, and after her favorite part of the day, where she relishes in the feeling of the hot water relaxing her sore muscles, she stands before her mirror in her undergarments, examining her much-changed body and reflecting on how different she is from the princess who fled her father's home over half a year ago.

She traces her eyes down her stomach, fascinated that hardened muscle is present where soft, squishy mass had once been. The V of her hips is clearly defined, and Brittany takes a breath, watching the muscles tense and move. Her eyes move next over her tanned arms, which are toned, shaped, and marred with dark bruises from her training, evidence of battles narrowly won. Finally, she studies her own face, her blonde, messy hair, and her dark blue eyes, which are harder, fiercer. She has evolved into so much more than what she thought possible, her confidence unshakable.

The timid, scared princess is truly, utterly gone.

At sunrise the next morning, Brittany enters the courtyard, her worn boots touching intimately familiar dirt as her confident steps bring her to the center. Waiting for her are several of her closest friends- Mike, Matt, Sugar, Kurt- with the rest of the crew surrounding the edge of the courtyard, creating a crowd. David greets her, handing her a cutlass, which she accepts without hesitation.

"You'll need this," he says lowly, shooting her a grin.

"What's going on?" Brittany mutters.

"You're gonna finish your training," he says mysteriously before he backs away, leaving Brittany standing in the center of the courtyard, awkwardly holding her sword. She tests its weight, swinging it a little, before turning her attention back to her friends, who watch her without speaking, and Brittany looks around, waiting for something to happen.

When Santana enters the courtyard, a hush falls over the gathered pirates, and Brittany's heart begins pounding, a feeling unfamiliar to her recently, since she hasn't seen Santana in weeks, except in passing. Her dark, shimmering hair is tied up tightly, and her black, sleeveless bodice, which leaves her bare, toned arms exposed, is tied up neatly in the front. She looks as if she is ready for war, and Brittany swallows. She hopes Santana is not part of whatever The Gauntlet is.

"Who challenges first?" Puck calls from his spot on the other side of the courtyard. Brittany hadn't noticed when he'd entered, nor when he'd moved to sit in a chair that had been placed at a vantage point for the proceedings. She wonders what kind of event he is here to observe, since he's clearly not a participant- not like her.

"I do," Sugar says, stepping forward. David immediately tosses her a long dagger, which she catches easily and expertly by the handle. She brandishes it, crouching low into a fighting stance, and carefully sizes up Brittany, who is facing the last person she ever expected to face in what is clearly about to be a fight.

"Sugar?!"

"All of us," Sugar corrects with a sweep of her unarmed hand, gesturing to Mike and the others, who are all arming themselves behind her.

"We have to be sure you can defend yourself," Mike says from his place beside David, where he picks up a long sword. Brittany feels fear start to creep into her mind. She didn't know she'd be fighting her friends-

"No better way to do that than by fighting you," Matt chimes in cheerfully, gripping his spear.

"And it'll never be one-on-one on the battlefield, anyway," David tells her. He motions to Puck, who thrusts his fist into the air.

"Begin!"

Sugar charges her, and Brittany's all at once surprised and impressed at her form, her energy, her rage- but she's been without practice too long, and Brittany easily avoids her, twirling away. She blocks a swing of her dagger, parries another, and then Matt's charging her, his spear giving him much longer reach. She's forced to split her attention, focusing on Sugar's moves but also following Matt's, dodging his thrusts and blocking Sugar's swings. Within moments she's sweating, her adrenaline peaked and her concentration elevated to levels she'd never before experienced, so that it's almost as if time slows down, as if she can see Mike coming in before he moves-

She steps behind Sugar's foot and pushes against her chest with her forearm, tripping her onto her back.

"Out!" David calls, and Brittany's relieved that she's one person down, and even more relieved that she escaped harming her best friend.

But then Mike is swinging his long, thin sword at her, and she blocks, dodges Matt's spear, swings-

The creak of a bowstring alerts her that Kurt's drawing on her, and she moves quickly, making herself harder to hit, her center of gravity low and her footwork light as she continues the fight, noticing in a background way that she's narrowly avoided several arrows. When Matt finally goes down after she breaks his spear with her foot, David joins the fight, powerfully swinging his short throwing axes, and she's relieved to fight him, first because she's sure he must be the final opponent, which means it will be over soon, and second because she's familiar with his fighting style.

After Mike ends up surrendering- a well-timed disarming technique, sending his sword to the ground- Brittany smiles as she focuses all her attention solely on David, who grins back.

"You and me, Princess."

Brittany takes a breath to center herself before she attacks, summoning all of her strength and energy for a full-on assault. She wants to prove to her friends- and most of all, to herself- that she can protect herself, and them, and that she's capable of being out on her own. David struggles to keep up with her, her thinner frame much more suited to speed than his thick, stocky one. He stumbles, catching himself, and throws his right axe directly at her. Surprised, Brittany brings her sword up automatically, deflecting it, and it ricochets into the dirt, burying its blade deep into the ground, its handle sticking up at a 45-degree angle. Armed with only one axe, David feels proud knowing he will lose this fight. His work is done, and done well- and as Brittany advances, dodging his last few attempts to stop her, and brings her sword to his chest, he laughs, dropping his axe to the ground in defeat.

"Excellent," he mutters. "Now get ready for your final fight."

Brittany doesn't have time to think about his words before the sound of blades unsheathing grabs her attention. She turns, panting, to the sound, and finds Santana standing across the clearing, gazing at her unsheathed swords, which gleam in the early morning sun. She stares in disbelief, her stomach sinking as her worst fear is brought to reality. She has to somehow defeat Santana, who, in her mind, is undefeatable.

Santana smiles, breath-takingly lethal. "Well done, Songbird. But let's see how you fare against a worthy opponent."

Brittany tries to catch her breath, struggling to muster up her last reserves of strength and energy as her friends scoff good-naturedly at Santana's words. Her palm gripping her cutlass is sweaty, her sword slipping in her grip, and she reluctantly- with heart pounding and stomach clenching in fear- lowers herself into a fighting stance. She's seen Santana fight, and she's never witnessed anything so beautiful- or deadly.

Santana steps forward, readying herself. She catches Brittany's eyes. "I won't go easy on you," she tells her softly.

"I would never expect you to, Quartermaster."

Santana takes a deep, focusing breath, hoping that Brittany understands why she can't give her a break- because no one on the battlefield will, and Santana has to know that Brittany won't die easily. It's why she requested to participate in The Gauntlet, which is usually reserved only for those closest to the person being tested, as part of the rite of passage. David couldn't deny her, though- especially knowing her history and how much the girl actually means to her-

Without warning, Brittany slashes, testing Santana's reflexes, because even though she's watched her fight, fighting her is an entirely different experience. Santana easily avoids, testing Brittany's speed- she's confident in her victory, confident that she knows the scope of David's training, but she also doesn't want to underestimate her, because she's done that with Brittany before. They trade blows, learning each other's limits to try and gain an advantage, and then, once she's seen enough, Santana elevates the fight to the next level- Brittany manages to evade her first sword strike, but not her second, and a razor thin, shallow cut appears on her thigh before she even realizes she's been hit.

"First blood," David comments calmly as the crowd screams with excitement.

Pain is a good motivator.

The sting of her thigh grounds Brittany suddenly, and all at once, she's aware of the surrounding pirate crowd roaring with cheers and random advice, so that all of the words blend together in one continuous rumble, and the sound of her own ragged, heavy breathing. She knows her stamina is coming to an end, and that she must finish the fight quickly; Santana grows deadlier by the second, and she has no hope of outlasting her, so she aggressively attacks, attacks again, pressing forward, but Santana dodges, spins, cuts, backs away. Every time Brittany advances, Santana evades and finds an opening, and the second time she does, she leaves another shallow cut in Brittany's bicep.

Kurt hisses from the sidelines, but Mike reassures his concern. "It looks worse than it is because of the blood."

"Don't let her get to you," David coaches from her right, somehow piercing the fog of her concentration. "Keep her back..."

Brittany obeys, jumping away as Santana tries to get in close for the kill, panting, winded- this is the longest fight she's ever endured, and Santana doesn't even seem to be fighting, looking more like she's enjoying a leisurely stroll through the courtyard. The sight angers Brittany, who's still working through her own emotions regarding Santana, so she channels all the conflicting feelings in the hopes that they will give her strength.

On Brittany's next charge, which Santana easily side-steps, she throws a sweep that puts Brittany in the dirt. The screams of the pirates intensify as Santana waits patiently to see if the girl will get up, twirling her sword breezily. Brittany's weak- her arms are shaking from exhaustion as she pushes herself up, but she promised herself she would see this through to the end, so she rises, snatching up her sword, her sweaty palm caked with dirt. She attacks again, taking Santana by surprise, who parries last minute, and their swords clash, the sound of metal on metal echoing through the courtyard, and then they break apart, and Santana swings, and Brittany blocks-

And then Santana viciously kicks her in the thigh, and Brittany collapses to the dirt, gasping in pain. Santana shoots a smug grin at David, knowing her victory is imminent, but when he shakes his head, she looks quickly back at Brittany, who's climbing shakily back to her feet, clutching her sword and coughing.

Santana can't believe her eyes- she thought Brittany would do well to defend herself, but never expected her to last as long as she has. She's partly proud of the girl for taking such abuse, and partly angry that she's forcing Santana to continue to abuse her, because now Santana can't lose. She has her pride and reputation on the line, her entire crew watching, and she told Brittany she wouldn't go easy on her, so...

It's time for her to take the offensive.

With a low cry, she attacks at full strength with both swords, pummeling Brittany with blow after blow, and the girl stumbles, blocks, dodges, barely blocks again, their swords connecting, and then Brittany pushes her back, swinging in an arc-

"Oooo," it seems like almost the entire crowd of pirates crow in unison as Santana wipes blood from her forearm with her fingertips, shocked at the bright red line of proof that Brittany landed a hit- a second too late dodging. She clenches her teeth, her anger rising.

"You've got her now," David breathes from behind her, and Brittany doesn't lose focus as Santana charges again. Brittany recalls her training, blocks with her sword, but then switches to a move she's seen Santana perform in battle: she brings in her fist, landing a hit in her arm that makes Santana drop the sword in her weak hand. Then, just as David taught her in her first week, she sets herself up to disarm Santana's other sword, moving in close.

But Santana did not earn her title as Ira Del Diablo for losing.

She brings her free elbow into Brittany's ribs, then, with a quick roll forward, she hits her in the midsection, wrestling her into the dirt. The pirate cheering and chanting amps up as the two grapple for a moment, but Brittany hasn't learned any ground fighting, and she's utterly drained of energy, which puts her at a severe disadvantage. She finally ends up on her back, pinned to the ground with Santana on her chest, her arms completely immobilized by Santana's knees.

Santana shoots the crowd a winning smile, and as if to prove her point, she draws the small knife she keeps in her boot and holds it up in triumph. The crowd cheers, Puck lifts his hand, awarding her the victory, and Santana gazes down at Brittany, who's staring up at her calmly, her breathing heavy, her bangs stuck to her forehead with sweat and blood.

"I'm impressed, Songbird," she says as she climbs to her feet, releasing her. She offers her a hand up, and Brittany's heart flutters involuntarily as she accepts it and allows the pirate to pull her gracefully to her feet. She's angry with Santana... but her quartermaster is still so hot.

"We gotta work on your ground fighting," David tells her excitedly as he reaches her, placing a large, congratulatory hand on her shoulder and shaking her a little. "But you kicked ass! No one's ever gotten her down to the dirt before. I didn't even think it was possible."

Proud, she smiles wider, catching brown eyes, which watch her guardedly. The crowd of pirates begin dispersing, an excited tone throughout their conversations, and Mike is by her side a minute later, pressing a cloth to her forehead. It comes away red.

"Just a superficial cut," he reassures her as she blinks in amazement at her blood on the cloth. She hadn't even realized she'd been cut there. "But let's go get you cleaned up. Oh, and, uh- awesome fight." He shoots her a thumbs up before he gathers up his small medical bag and leads her to the infirmary, flanked by Sugar, Kurt, and Matt, who take turns congratulating her and regaling her with their thoughts and emotions throughout her various battles, and Brittany enjoys their play-by-plays, beaming the whole way to the infirmary.

Santana watches Brittany go, licking her dry lips. She tastes the salt of sweat on them- sweat and dirt- and the realization that she hasn't been challenged like that in a very long time both fills her with a rare high and triggers something even more incredible: the pressure lifts. She knows now that she no longer needs to worry about Brittany- clearly, she can take care of herself.

Three nights later, Brittany walks the familiar path to Santana's quarters. She's been there many times as a slave, but tonight will mark the first time she's arriving as a pirate. She'd been asked yesterday- by Jake, of all people- to arrive after sunset that night, because Santana wanted to talk with her. She'd almost refused, but after giving it some thought, she knew she couldn't stay mad at Santana forever and decided to hear her out. So as she knocks on the familiar door, hearing the familiar Enter command given to her, she tries to calm her nerves, because Santana still has the same effect on her, and she doesn't want to give in to her charm. She turns the door handle, which reveals the familiar sight of Santana's room, only it's been transformed.

Santana stands before her, captivating in all black, her loose shirt open at the top, exposing her collarbones. Her hair is down, clean and soft-looking, and she smiles when Brittany enters the room. Bundles of colorful flowers sit on her armoire, the small table, the night stand, giving the room a wonderful scent. Opposite the flowers, various candles bathe the room in light, the effect romantic, intimate. On the small table, a large platter overflowing with various expensive cheeses, fresh rolls and slices of fruit sits next to a bottle of wine, two crystal glasses, and a small knife.

Brittany can't help feeling absolutely flattered by the obvious change, and she finds herself unable to be mad, her prior anger dissipating at the sight of Santana smiling shyly at her, and by the thought of her putting in so much effort for her.

Still, Brittany can't believe it. "Is this for me?"

"Yes," Santana says, nervous. "I thought we could spend some time."

Brittany blushes, smiling. A feeling of warmth, of happiness, washes over her, melting away all her lingering feelings of stress and anger, because Santana's trying- she listened to her. The proof of her effort surrounds them. Santana gestures for her to take a seat, and Brittany lowers gracefully into a chair as Santana pours them a glass of wine before sitting, herself, across from Brittany, leaning forward eagerly. A wave of her scent hits Brittany from the close proximity, and Brittany closes her eyes briefly, breathing her in, heightening her senses. The flowers and the soft glow of the candles relax her, casting a spell over the room that she can only describe as magical.

When she opens her eyes again, she finds Santana watching her, and they stare at each other, the heat and the tension building, as it always does when they connect in such a way. After a moment, Santana averts her gaze, then reaches for the knife and begins cutting the small bread rolls into slices. They eat in tense silence, stealing glances at each other. Brittany savors the handful of strawberries Santana had somehow procured for the fruit platter, and Santana agonizingly watches her bite into them, lick the juice from her lips, suck the sweetness from her fingers, her pulse pounding.

Brittany smiles at her before taking her first sip of wine. When the liquid hits her lips, she realizes it's her favorite variety, a fact that only Sugar would have known, which conveys to her that Santana put even more effort into this outing than she previously thought. She regards Santana carefully, nibbling on cheese so luxurious she hasn't eaten it in months. She'd been too nervous to eat earlier in the night, so she sips her wine slowly, careful not to lose control of herself again as she thoroughly enjoys the flavors of the rich variety of foods Santana had chosen.

"Britt," Santana starts awkwardly (though she'd rehearsed it before) attempting to break the tension, "tell me about your life."

Brittany smiles shyly at the shortening of her name. "There's nothing much to tell, really. The life of a pampered princess."

"I find that difficult to believe," Santana teases, swallowing nervously at her words. "What of your parents?"

"Well, my mother disappeared when I was seven..."

"We have that in common," Santana tells her with a sad smile. "Though I was a bit older when mine died- eleven, I think."

"I'm so sorry," Brittany breathes, and it's in that moment that she realizes she still knows nothing of Santana's past or how she became a pirate, and she's filled, once again, with a burning need to know everything about the beautiful woman before her. "It must've been awful."

"I don't really remember," Santana shrugs, trying to turn the conversation from the dark place it's heading. "And what of your father?"

"My father... he's the one who arranged a marriage for me," she confesses, her tone gaining a hint of anger. "My brother is off fighting the war- Father's conquest for more land in the name of the King- but he will inherit Father's legacy, and I was simply a means to more power... a title I'm sure my younger sister gained in my absence."

"Did you truly not care for the Prince of Gabs?" she chuckles, grinning slyly behind her wine glass, fond memories of their time spent in the Empress of Lao's palace surfacing. The memory of the dance they shared becomes prominent in her mind, and she longs for that intimacy with Brittany again.

Brittany makes a face. "He is far too weak of character- I can barely understand a word he says, most of the time. And honestly, he's not much to look at, either."

"I see. Is that important to you?"

"Of course," Brittany murmurs. "Attraction is paramount." She takes a long, slow sip of her wine, glancing at Santana over the rim of her glass.

Santana licks her lips, her eyes watching Brittany's throat move as she swallows, feeling her stomach tighten. "Is it?" she breathes, her heart pounding.

Brittany catches her gaze, and heat spreads through both of their bodies at the speed of light. It takes the span of one more shuddering breath before their lips are crashing together, and then they're breathing together, and then Brittany's moving, bringing Santana with her, and her back touches the wall, or furniture, or-

Santana breaks the kiss, her mouth finding Brittany's neck, finding that spot under her ear, and Brittany trembles, moans, and then their mouths are back together and she's biting Santana's lip. Santana presses her against the wall, their bodies touching everywhere, and Brittany wraps arms around her, crushing her to her, desperate to sate the burning need she's been neglecting for weeks as Santana ruts her hips into her, building her pleasure.

Somehow they end up on the bed, and Santana twists her onto her back, lying atop her, kissing her fiercely. Brittany cants her hips up, searching for friction, and Santana groans, hot and low, into her mouth as she rocks against her in answer. They kiss heatedly for long moments, Santana's hands roaming, stroking her face, her thighs, sliding under her shoulders to hold her closer, and Brittany allows herself to touch Santana in return, boldly slipping her hands under her shirt to trace warm fingers along the warmer skin of her back, memorizing the bumps of her spine and the definition of her muscles, tense with restraint. Santana moans when Brittany's hands touch her skin, eliciting sparks of pleasure, and her hips rock harder down into Brittany, who turns her head to gasp at her intensity. Santana gently bites beneath her ear, dragging her teeth down her neck, then licking, sucking at her collarbone. Brittany's only had one other mouth give her a bruise, but the way Santana's mouth feels is heaven compared to the other, and she squirms, her thighs uncomfortably sticky from her arousal, her heart pounding so hard she's sure Santana must feel it in her own chest from how closely they are pressed together.

She wants Santana so badly, but she wants something else even more. "I want to be with you," Brittany breathes. "I want to be yours."

"Shh," Santana hushes pleadingly, squeezing her eyes closed and focusing on the rocking of her hips. She's close. "Can you just-"

Brittany feels her stomach drop with the realization that once again, Santana has only one goal, one purpose, and no desire to connect with her, no desire for more. Nothing has changed in the weeks they've spent apart, nor resolved. She swallows the sudden bitter taste in her mouth as she sits up, pushing Santana firmly off of her. "I think it's time I retired for the evening."

"Britt," Santana whispers, panicked, her thighs clenching from the denial of her release and her mind struggling to snap out of the haze of arousal. "Don't-"

But Brittany slides off the bed, away from her, fixing her hair and gathering her emotions. "Thank you for the samples, they were delicious." Before she can stop it, Brittany wonders if Santana buys all her partners expensive cheese. Will Santana ever think of her as more than a warm body?

Santana grabs her wrist, and Brittany turns to look at her, her eyes shooting daggers through her. "Please," Santana breathes. "What more must I do?"

"You have done enough," Brittany hisses. "You've made it clear that we don't want the same things."

"Have I?" Santana wonders, confused. "I thought-"

"I thought that you wanted an equal, someone to stand by your side. Instead you just want someone beneath you."

Santana bites her lip. She doesn't want someone beneath her, she wants only Brittany. But she doesn't know how voicing those words could make the situation better, so she keeps her mouth closed as Brittany moves towards the door.

"I'll take my leave now," Brittany sighs, the anger draining out of her and replaced with sadness, her heart breaking all over again- perhaps worse than the first time, since she'd truly believed Santana had changed her mind, had wanted something more-

Santana follows her from the bed as she opens the door, pleading, "Brittany, don't-"

"Enjoy your hand tonight."

Brittany firmly shuts the door behind her, leaving Santana alone. Confused and angry, she slams her palm down on the table; this was not how the night was supposed to unfold. She replays the entire night, wondering where she went wrong, but she knows in her heart that she was never ready to commit, she just missed Brittany. The thought fills her with emptiness- she missed Brittany, not just a warm body. She missed her laugh, her smile, her smell... but now she's worse off than when she started. Sighing heavily, she pours herself another glass of wine.

She might as well finish off the bottle.

Okay DON'T BE MAD AT ME YOU GUYS. I promise they will work their shit out... eventually. ;)

As usual, this chapter was stupid long so I cut it in half again. Hopefully not another year before I update, since I'm freeeeee~

Review if you wanna say hi or yell at me! I love you guys :'D

See you next time!