AN: Thanks for everyone reviewing and favoriting! Hope you like this chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee/X-Factor/Copyrighted material.


Brittany's POV

After Santana left for her meeting, you spend some time lounging in her bedroom. The sheets were a little colder without your Latina lover, but the memories those sheets held warmed them up a bit. Part of you felt silly for pushing yourself on Santana last night, not that you didn't want her, but for the reasons behind it. One stronghold about your relationship with the brunette was that it was very realistic. From the get-go, the two of you have discussed the nature of this competition and what it could potentially do to your relationship. Mainly, it could force the two of you into long distance yet again, but it would feel way more real this time. Meaning it would be a lot harder. But, the closer it gets to that inevitable time, the harder it gets to remain so calm. The thought of not seeing Santana everyday makes your stomach drop and your heart hurt. This girl has meant more to you in 5 months than anyone has in your whole life.

Deciding it was time to stop being lazy, you roll out of bed, pull on some of Santana's sweats and head downstairs to scrounge up some breakfast. You are not surprised to be greeted by Quinn sitting at the kitchen counter. You are a little embarrassed and out of your comfort zone without a particular Latina by your side.

"Hi, Brittany" Quinn looks up from the newspaper "Was wondering how long it would be before you made your way down here." She smiles brightly at you. You can tell why Santana and Quinn have such a connection.

Quinn is Santana's ultimate balancer. While Santana is sharp and quick witted, Quinn is equally as bright, but more thoughtful. Santana can come off as abrasive and harsh, while Quinn is direct but comforting. Quinn is unafraid to knock Santana down, while also being her biggest advocate. Sometimes their relationship makes you jealous, but you also realize how much Santana needs Quinn.

"Well, Santana's bed is ridiculously comfortable" you giggle a touch nervously and head to the cabinet to find some cereal.

"I take it from your bed head and the way your eyes got all dopey when you said her name that you and Santana finally sealed the deal." Quinn states nonchalantly as if this thread of conversation is the most comfortable thing.

You drop the box of cereal you had just picked up and feel your cheeks heat up, "Urm, well, I mean…"

Quinn cackles, "Come on, Britt. She's my best friend, not only does she tell me things, but I have seen plenty of girls on the day after."

Your heart drops. Quinn most notice your sudden change in demeanor and quickly acts "Fuck, I mean, well not PLENTY of girls, just a few. And, usually Santana is hiding in my room waiting for me to break the news that Santana is really more of a loner."

"Holy shit, is that what is happening right now?" You ask "Was that really you on the phone this morning, was Santana telling you to let me down easy? Is that why she isn't here? Oh my god, oh my god. She's breaking up with me." You start to babble and the words pour out of your mouth.

"Whoa, whoa" Quinn jumps out of your seat and puts a calming hand on your shoulder, "Brittany, I promise that is not what is happening. S, left like 20 minutes ago to go meet the producers. I am sorry I even said anything about her old escapades. You are completely different, I promise." She slides her hand into yours and pulls you to sit at the counter, "Let me make you some breakfast, that always makes me feel better – especially bacon."

You try to regulate your breathing. After a rather emotional night with Santana, Quinn's words certainly don't do much for your anxieties about your relationship with the brunette.

"So, how did it go with your family? Did S say anything offensive?" Quinn inquires, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

You're ashamed to say it works. You smile thinking about Santana meeting your mom and Aubrey, "Actually it went really well. Aubrey was already obsessed with Santana before meeting her, so that was easy. My mom was really impressed with all she has done for herself in the past few years. She thinks Santana is good for me."

"I think you are the one that is good for Santana."

Just as you are about to respond, you hear the front door close and into the kitchen walks your beautiful girlfriend, "Well, aren't I the luckiest girl in the world being able to come home to my two favorite blondes." Santana glides into the kitchen, laying a kiss on Quinn's cheek before sliding into the sit next to you. Without warning, she cups your face in her hands and pulls you in for a searing kiss. "Hi, baby" she whispers into your lips "I missed you."

Quinn does her best ignoring your interaction with Santana, you can't help but blush a deep red at your girlfriend's actions. You also can't help but to pull her back in for another kiss before whispering "Not as much as I missed you." Santana smiles her special smile, before entwining your fingers with hers and holding your clasped hands in her lap.

She is rubbing your knuckles, and you find yourself completely mesmerized by the brunette. It amazes you how not 45 minutes ago she left you a panting, heaving mess tangled up in her sheets, and now she is holding onto you like a delicate flower she just picked. You can't help but fall more in love with Santana each day, and right now that scares you.

With her free hand, Santana reaches out and grabs a grape from a bowl on the counter before popping it into her mouth, "So, what did I miss?" You squeeze her hand and pout and glance at her mouth. "What baby? You want a grape, too" you give her a small smile and nod. Her caramel hand reaches out ago and grabs a particularly plump grape from the bunch. She goes to hand it to you, but quickly brings the grape back to her mouth, "Come get it" she says carefully without crushing the grape in mouth. Without thinking, you lean forward and press your mouth against the other girl's, using your tongue to pull out the piece of fruit. Santana involuntarily moans when your tongue swipes through her mouth.

"It's unbelievable how the two of you can be so unbearably cute, while simultaneously so nauseating" Quinn's voice pulls you out of your little fruit sharing bubble.

"Sorry, Q. Gotta make sure my girl gets fed. Speaking of, are you making enough breakfast for me?" Santana asks with a raise of eyebrows, as she leans across the counter and tries to pull a piece of bacon off the plate Quinn is putting them on. Quinn slaps the Latina's hand away before shaking the spatula at her.

"Devil child, devil child" the other blonde chides jokingly. "So, S," Quinn continues to scramble eggs as she talks, "How did it go with the producers? What did they decide to do with Vocal Adrenaline?"

You notice Santana immediately looks down at her hands, and briefly looks at you through the corner of her eyes. "Um, well, apparently in the contract we signed at the beginning of the show there was an integrity clause that basically said any music we performed must be our arrangements, so they violated that." The Latina shrugs, and gets up to go over to the coffee maker. Her change in behavior is not only bizarre, but very noticeable.

"Okayyyyyy, so what does that actually mean?" Quinn presses staring at the Latina, whose back is now to the counter. You see Santana roll her neck, as she pours her coffee as if she is trying to release tension from her shoulders.

"They are going home tonight. The producers were meeting with them after me to tell them the news." Santana says this with a rather dulcet tone, as if she wasn't happy about the results.

"Well, that's awesome! I guess our Twitter campaign wasn't necessary." Quinn finishes serving breakfast and puts plates on the counter. "I wish I could stay, but my parents are coming to take me out to breakfast. I think a bunch of the girls stayed out with their families last night. Hit up the GroupMe with plans for results show." The blonde wipes her hands on a dishtowel before planting a kiss on your girlfriend's cheek goodbye. A small jealousy monster growls in your stomach.

"Tell R and J I say hi" Santana says and smiles at her friend, but it doesn't reach her eyes. You look at your girlfriend curiously, wondering what could possibly be bothering her. She doesn't seem upset or angry, but she seems like she is keeping something in.

Santana returns to her seat next to you with her coffee, and she plants a small kiss on your exposed shoulder. You lean over a kiss the freckle on her right shoulder, before picking up your fork and digging into breakfast. You want to talk to Santana about what is going on, but you can tell she is too wrapped up in her own thoughts.

The two of you enjoy a comfortable silence over breakfast, Santana tangles her foot with yours under the table. Maybe a sign that she is still with or maybe a plea to keep her grounded. When the plates are empty, you hop up and clear them before taking Santana's hand and pulling her into the media room. You know Santana needs a mental break, so you pop in her favorite movie and pull her over to the couch for a serious cuddle session. Santana tells people her favorite movie is Shawshank Redemption, but that is her dinner party answer, her true favorite movie is Bring It On! And though she won't admit it you, you're pretty sure it's because she has a huge crush on Kirsten Dunst.

You vividly remember during one of your many FaceTime sessions before the show restarted, you were going through your high school yearbooks with Santana and you focused in on the Cheerio's page. Santana always thought it was sexy that you were a cheerleader in high school, and even sexier that you had to wear the uniform every day to school.

"Holy shit, you look just like Torrance" Santana says while looking at the page.

"Torrance?" You flip the phone back to yourself "Who is Torrance? Is that some ex-girlfriend?" you ask with a pout.

"Aw, are you jealous?" She giggles, "And, no! Not an ex-girlfriend. Torrance. From Bring It On?"

"Not ringing any bells" you say casually.

"WHAT? Torrance, B! Torrance Still. Perky blonde cheerleader, captain of the Rancho Carne Toros? They stole all their routines from the Compton Clovers?"

You slowly shake your head, pretending like you had no idea what she was talking about.

"B! You were a cheerleader and never saw Bring It On! These aren't spirit fingers, THESE are spirit fingers" the brunette is emphatically wiggling her fingers in front of the camera "Kirsten Dunst v. Gabrielle Union, the hottest cheer off of all time!"

You smile widely at the behavior of the girl, "Of course I knew what you were talking about, I just wanted to see how in depth you were going to explain the movie."

Santana blushes a deep red and groans.

"It's good to know you have a thing for blonde cheerleaders."


Santana's POV

You aren't sure why, but you can't help but feel you should tell Brittany that if it weren't for Vocal Adrenaline cheating that New Directions would be going home tonight. You know she is already beating herself up for their lackluster performance, but maybe knowing that it truly wasn't good enough would inspire the team even more. You are completely torn about what to do. Do you let Brittany and the New Directions get the new theme for this week, and just hope they pull it together at a high enough level to move on? Or, do you intercede and try to help? You and Brittany have always had a very firm rule about not meddling in the other team's business, but you are more worried about losing Brittany than anything else. Brittany was so focused on you all day, and now you're thinking you need to focus on her.

You can't help but smile when Brittany drags you into the media room to indulge in your biggest guilty pleasure, Bring It On. You are surprised at how well the blonde knows you, you don't even think Quinn knows that Bring It On is actually your favorite movie. In fact, only one person ever knew it was your favorite and that was your mom. You found the movie one day at a garage sale of your next-door neighbors and you watched it days on end in the family room. You would even jump up and do the cheers with the squads. On top of everything happening with the show, a stone has been in your stomach since seeing all of the Troubletones familes and Brittany's.

Brittany's eyes are on the screen, but you can tell her focus is on you. Her fingers are religiously stroking your scalp, running your long hair through her hands, which she knows calms you down. You are looking up at the blonde, while her eyes are trained on the screen, but she looks back down at you and your eyes meet.

"Hi" you whisper as your reach your hands up and pull her face into you. You press a kiss on her lips, thanking the dance gods for making your particular blonde just so damn flexible.

"Hi" she whispers back after kissing you. The movie still plays in the background as the two of you stare at each other.

"You know, I used to make my mom watch me perform these routines over and over again in my back yard and give me actual critiques" the blonde smiles down at you as you continue your story "I remember the first time I did it she gave me a ten and I flipped out at her, because I knew I messed up and I never wanted her to go easy on me." The blonde giggles.

"I can imagine ten year old Santana having very high standards for herself."

"You're damn right I did. I said to her, 'Mami, if you tell me I am great when I am not even good then I am going wind up being just good my whole life. Never great. I want to be great.' Ever since that day my mom was nothing but brutally honest with me, and all I ever wanted her to do was just to tell me I am great." I can feel the tears start to collect in my throat. "Even when I got older and I thought I was actually great, my mami and papi made it clear it wasn't good enough. I guess I kind of asked for it."

Brittany leans back down and kisses you gently on the lips and then moves to your cheeks to kiss the falling tears away, "That's ridiculous, Santana. You were a kid, who was asking your parents to judge a silly cheer routine. You weren't asking them tell you you weren't good enough, you were just asking them to be honest." The blonde continues to stroke your scalp.

"Believe me, they have no issues with being honest. 'Being a doctor is a respectable occupation. Becoming a singer is for hussies and idiots. We will not sit by and watch you waste your time.'" You do the best impersonation of your father as you can muster, before more tears stream down your face. "All I have ever wanted was for my parents to tell me it's okay. It's okay to be gay, it's okay to be scared, it's okay to chase your dreams, it's okay to fail as long as you're happy." You choke back a few more sobs, "I just want them to want me to be happy."

The blonde swiftly pulls you up by your armpits and pulls you into her lap, as she wraps her strong arms around you. She slowly starts to rock you against her chest. "It is okay, Santana." She whispers into your hairline. "Everything you are doing and everything you are, is more than okay. You are beautiful and talented, and you are sharing that talent with the world. And, I certainly hope you are happy. You are living your dream every night you perform on that stage, and you are winning! If your parents are too jaded by the title in front of your name, then they don't deserve to see your happiness." She presses small kisses on your head, "I know that's hard to hear and it might not be my place, but I can't understand someone who doesn't love you for exactly who you are – that logic doesn't work in my world."

You melt at the blonde's words. Though they are realistic, which sometimes is hard to hear, they are meaningful. You know that this wonderful creature, who you have been blessed enough to have in your life actually cares about you. She actually wants what is best for you, and wants to see you succeed. She is the only person, maybe with the exception of Quinn and Cedes, that you actually want in your life all the time. A lot of the other things that used to matter to you – like success, fame, fortune, the recording contract, the big loft apartment, the fans – they seem a little more trivial now that you have Brittany. Now that you have true love. You lean back from her chest and look into her blindingly blue eyes.

"What do you think my dream is, Bumble?"

"Winning this competition. Showing everyone you're the best. I remember you told me the night we first met 'Living the dream isn't enough, it's accomplishing your dreams that matters.' Seems like you have always been a very goal oriented person, Ms. Lopez." She squeezes your waist before planting a kiss on your nose. You look at her and cock your head to the side.

"What are you thinking about?" She asks.

You shrug, "I just think that my dream is changing."

"How so…."

You shrug again, "I think my tattoos have more in common than I ever thought they would."


Now you sit in the green room, waiting for the host and producers to come back and announce the next week's theme. The results show wasn't very drama filled, since you knew who was leaving the whole time. The group number was enjoyable, and Marley and Dani got to join 10 other competitors in a Beyonce medley. The remaining teams chatted amicably amongst themselves while waiting. You were sitting and watching as Brittany, Sam and Artie got into a heated battle of three way Rock, Paper, Scissors. Sam had just pulled out fire, which he claimed beat everything, but you're quick thinking girlfriend quickly turned her rock into a water balloon and extinguished his fire. You loved watching the blonde interact with her friends.

Vocal Adrenaline had just left the green room, and while usually group goodbyes are a little sad, since every other team knew the stunt Vocal Adrenaline pulled, the goodbyes were actually a bit awkward. Their team captain tried to come apologize to the Troubletones, and cited the pressures of the show and the desire to be good for reasons for giving in to stealing your work . On the outside, you accepted their apology and moved on, on the inside you were giving them a huge middle finger.

The producers walk in and immediately the rooms goes quiet, as per usual, they congratulate the remaining groups on their hard work and continued success. The red hair producer, her name is Karen or something takes over, "As we move into the top 5, we are going to be seeing even more competition and hopefully more votes. So, we are trying to prepare to make this the best year of X-Factor yet. In doing so, we are going to challenge these groups like we have never challenged any groups before, so we have decided to combine two themes for Week 6."

Combine two themes? How would that even work? You think to yourself. "So," the producer continues "Next week theme is a Top 40 Mash-Off. Each team will prepare one original mash up of at least two Top 40 hits. Good luck."

When the producers leave, all the competitors split into their respective teams and start brain storming. The Troubletones usually leave at this point, thinking it's a little below them to start jabbering the second a theme is unveiled. The Troubletones like to let a theme ruminate, give each member time to work out the theme for themselves, and then come together. As you gather your stuff, and quickly lay a love pat on Britt's rear as you pass the New Directions, Mercedes sneaks up behind you on the walk to the hallway.

"I don't know about this theme, S" she says quietly "In the age of DJs and phone apps that mash songs for you, it's going to be hard to find an original Top 40 mash-up that speaks to us."

You nod your head understandingly at your friend, this thought at crossed your mind the second the producers announced the theme, but you always had a trick up your sleeve, "They never said the songs had to be current Top 40 hits." You smirk at your friend as you continue to walk out of the arena.

"Praise Jesus you are on my team, Santana. I love the way that mind of yours works!" The diva wraps her arm around your shoulder. You are excited to get back to the townhouse, enjoy a glass of wine and spend some time with those who matter to you.

Later that night you find yourself laying in bed, with an ever giggly Brittany laying beside you. "Okay, okay, okay I have a good one! Marry, Boff, Kill – Tina Fey, Amy Poehler or Kristen Wiig" Brittany says as she rolls onto her side to get a better look at you. The lights are off, but the two of you haven't been able to fall asleep, whether it was from the wine or the adrenaline, so you are playing yet another rousing round of Marry, Boff, Kill, this time comedy themed.

"Ugh, that is so hard!" You whine as your stare up at the ceiling "If we are talking their actual celebrity persona's then I would have to say Marry Tina, Boff Amy and Kill Kristen. Not that I don't love me some Kristen Wiig, but she seems a bit unapproachable, where as Amy and Tina seem like the bomb" the blonde hums at your response, "But if we are talking on screen personas like Liz Lemon, Leslie Knope and Annie from Bridesmaids then I would kill Liz Lemon because she is sexual inexperienced AF, marry Leslie Knope because she would just make me waffles every morning and boff Annie because…well, damn girl." The blonde cracks up at your reasoning.

"Who knew my very sexy, very cool Latina girlfriend had such an appreciation for the fine art of comedy." The blonde wraps her arms around your waist, "I am so glad that we have another week together, Santana. I am going to spend every moment that I am not whipping the New Directions into shape lovin on you, feelin on you and bein on you." The blonde winks at as she puts on her best ghetto voice impersonation.

Brittany bringing up whipping the New Directions into shape causes a knot to form in your stomach, "Speaking of rehearsals this week….any idea what you are going to do?" You ask, trying to be casual while running your fingers up and down her arms.

"No, silly. Right after they announced the theme, we huddled quickly and decided to talk tomorrow and then I came straight here." She sits up a bit to look at you, "You never ask what we are going to do for a theme, that's one of those unwritten rules we have."

"No, you're right. I was just wondering if you had any ideas." She looks at your quizzically, while you avoid eye contact, "I mean if you don't have any ideas, I could help you, you know? Pick songs that work well together and would work well with your vocal ranges." You try to sound as nonchalant as possible.

"Santana, do you not think I have the capability of picking songs that fit my own groups abilities? Do you think that the New Directions made a mistake in making me captain? Do you think Rachel should take back over?" The blonde's voice becomes very sharp and she has disentangled her arms from around your waist and is now sitting up in bed glaring at you.

Panic strikes you seeing Brittany's reaction to your words, "No, baby, not at all. You know how talented and wonderful I think you.' You run your hand down her cheek, trying to show through touch how much you care, "You're the most amazing dancer I have ever seen and your commentary and critics of performances are always right on point. I think your team were idiots to not make you captain from the get go." Your voice trails off at the end, clearly leaving things unsaid.

"But…"the blonde spurs you on. Her tone makes it clear that you are already in too deep and there is not getting out.

"But, I just think this week is really important and that you guys need all the help you can get in making sure you present a really strong mashup for the judges. I just want to help you, Bumble. I just don't want you to leave."

"So, you're saying, that if I do this on my own with my teammates, without your help, that we are going to get kicked off?" The blondes words are becoming sharper and sharper and she is moving further and further away from you.

"No, B, you're not understanding me. That's not it at all. I just know you have never done music arranging and it can be really hard, and I just want to make sure you don't mess up." As the words mess up slip out, you slap your hand over your mouth knowing all hope was lost. "Fuck, B, I didn't mean that. I don't think you're going to mess up."

The blonde jumps out of bed and starts grabbing her sweats and redressing, "Brittany, baby, what are you doing?"

"Leaving. Am I doing it wrong? Or do I need your help, so I don't mess it up?" Her blue eyes rip into you with a new icy glare you have never seen before, "You know what Santana, I am sorry that we all can't be as good at musical arrangements as you are, and I am sorry that we all don't have multi-millionaire dollar studios that we work in all the time, and I am sorry that all of us haven't won glee club national championships and don't have producers and agents calling us all the time to sign us. But in no way does that give you the right to discredit what we are doing. WHAT I AM DOING! You don't even fucking need this competition! But, I do. I NEED THIS, Santana. And instead of putting me down and telling me that you can do it better than I can, why can't you just support me? This is a really big week for me to show my progress as an artist, and the one person who I thought would be so happy for me and so supportive, is worried that I can't do it. Well that's just great."

The blonde's words are like arrows, digging into your soul. You don't want her to think you don't support her, because you do, you just want to help. You just want her to be here week after week with you. You just love her beyond words. But, you just can't find the right words to make her understand.

"That's not what I am saying at all. I am just saying you need to be better than this week, B. It needs to be sharper, it needs to have more flow, it needs to have continuity, because if Vocal Adrenaline hadn't cheated, then you guys would have gone home." Again, you lost it. You had no control over the utter garbage flowing out of your mouth.

Brittany's face is bright red with rage and you expect her to burst at the seems, but instead she asks in a very quiet calm and almost eerie voice, "So, I suppose you want some kind of thank you for saving my team?"

"What? No, I…I…I just…." You stutter. You close your eyes and grip the bridge of your nose, at a complete loss.

You look up to see blonde hair vanishing with the slam of a door.


AN: Until next time.