A Little Unbroken

by trifectaimperfecta

The story of how the misunderstood dreamer, the attention seeker with a secret, and the outcast-turned-social butterfly became what was known as the Unholy Trinity. It begins when Brittany and Santana are twelve and follows the journey all the way to senior year. Pairings: principally Brittana and Faberry.

10. A Body in Motion

AN: The lyrics that appear in this chapter are from You Oughta Know by Alanis Morissette.

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Two roads diverged in a wood and I - I took the one less traveled by...

The line came back to Quinn's memory as she sloshed through the ankle-deep clusters of fallen leaves. While she had understood the moral at the time, putting it into practice was another matter entirely. Instead, Quinn had taken the easier path, or at least the more familiar one. All her good intentions to stay single and sort out her life had crumbled away at last.

Then again, in her own defense, Quinn had to admit that Sam had been very persistent. He had tried every sweet gesture imaginable to convince her that they should be together. Most recently, he had even bought her a promise ring to say that he wanted to marry her someday. It was a bold and overhasty move, to be sure. Still, Quinn couldn't help being grateful that there was someone who didn't think she was a train wreck and a bad bet in a relationship.

Sam's blind faith and open heart made Quinn wonder about him, and she decided to voice a question that would either confirm or deny her suspicion.

"You've never had a girlfriend before, have you?" she asked as they carefully picked their way down a steep hillside.

"Not a serious one," Sam admitted as he waited on the flat land below, ready to catch Quinn if her foot should slip. "There was a girl when I was about seven or so. We played on the monkey bars at recess."

They found a faintly discernible trail of trodden dirt and followed it beneath the whispering trees.

"I used to share my Doritos with her at snack time," Sam continued. "Which was a big deal for me, because you know how much I love Doritos."

Quinn laughed and nodded. She caught up to him and linked their arms.

"Anyway, I thought sharing something special like that meant forever," Sam recalled with a chuckle. "Until this other kid gave her half his bag of Funyuns two weeks later and she forgot all about me."

"Aww!" Quinn sympathized and ruffled his hair.

"Yeah," Sam shrugged embarrassedly. "But I was still the one who helped her hop to the school nurse when she scraped her knees on the gravel."

"Always so chivalrous," Quinn remarked with an affectionate smile. "Just like how you and the guys stood up to Karofsky for bullying Kurt. He's twice as broad as you are at least an inch or two taller. That was really brave. I admire you for it."

"Admire me enough to accept my ring?" Sam asked, shooting her a wink.

"It's still a maybe," Quinn replied. "But keep trying."

"Patience you must have, my young Padawan," Sam quoted, but then he noticed Quinn's quizzical look. "Yoda? Star Wars? …Sorry."

Quinn shook her head and rested her cheek on his shoulder.

A short while later, they reached the last stretch of the path and a vast expanse of water came into view. Weathered boards had been nailed together leading out a few yards from land's end.

"Watch your step," Sam cautioned.

"Thanks," Quinn murmured as she accepted the hand he offered.

The dock onto which they were stepping was clearly aged and of questionable construction. However, Sam graciously had his date wait behind him as he tested each board. When he was certain it could hold their weight, he beckoned for Quinn to join him at the edge.

"Are you sure this is the best idea?" she asked. Her arm looped around his while she peered at the surface of the lake.

"Absolutely," he insisted. "Just wait until we get out there. It's amazing. You'll see."

Sam dropped down to his knees and cautiously lowered himself into the boat that was waiting there. He untied the boat and rolled up the rope to sit on the seat beside him. Then he held the craft in place with one palm and aided Quinn in her descent with the other. She settled onto the seat opposite him and neatly tucked her long skirt around her legs.

Sam reached to either side and hefted the oars in his hands. They slid smoothly into the water without making a sound. With a fluid and steady movement, he began to row.

"Have you ever gone out for an afternoon boat ride before?" Sam asked as they glided away from the dock.

"I can't say that I have."

"You'll like it," he assured her. "It's really peaceful. You can get away from everything and it's just you and the lake and the birds chirping in the distance."

"That sounds nice," Quinn said softly. "Do you usually fish, too, when you visit?"

"Nah," Sam replied with a shake of his head. "I tried a few times but I couldn't really get into it. They give you such a betrayed look after you reel them in, you know?"

He widened his eyes and puckered his lips, which he opened and closed slowly with a comical pout. Quinn giggled at his imitation but nodded understandingly.

"I'm sure they appreciate your decision," she remarked with a broad grin.

Unnoticed by Quinn, Sam had increased the speed of his rowing and they had covered quite a bit of distance. His bright eyes sparkled with excitement as they neared the spot he had in mind. Quinn noticed the change in his demeanor and arched an eyebrow while she waited for the next part of his plan to unfold.

"We're here," Sam finally confirmed and pulled the oars up into the boat. "Go ahead. Take a look around."

Quinn did as he suggested and her mouth hung agape. From this place, land was only visible as a thin line at the furthermost extent of her vision. To the north, where the lake stretched out as if reaching for the sun, no earth could be seen at all. The world got lost somewhere on that invisible horizon line between water and endless sky. The light from above caught on the tiny waves and bounced prettily onto the sides of the boat and their skin. She watched the way this illumination danced across Sam's smiling face and felt a painful tug inside her chest.

"Thank you for bringing me here," she told him. "You were right. It's beautiful."

He beamed happily.

"See? I knew you were nervous when I told you what I had in mind today, but isn't this so much better than going to Breadstix? It's just like I told you; you don't need to go to a fancy restaurant or spend a lot of money to have a good time."

Quinn blushed as she realized how high maintenance it must have sounded when she protested the notion. Sam noticed her embarrassment and decided to alleviate it by shifting the focus back to their surroundings.

"It's good to be away from the buildings and all those faces," Sam said with a contented sigh as he rested his elbows on his knees. "You can actually hear yourself think out here."

"And what are you thinking?"

"That it's even more special now that I have someone else with me," he admitted. "It's like we're the only two people in the world. What about you?"

"That maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing if we were."

Sam's brow furrowed before Quinn leaned forward and clarified her meaning with a soft and tender kiss. Then Sam lifted his hand to curl some of her long hair around his fingers as he returned the touch. Their joined reflection shimmered on the shifting surface of the lake. The day wore slowly on around them as if it had set itself apart from time, with no sign of life save for the boy and girl that had forgotten all else but each other.

… … …

"What are you looking at?" Santana snarled.

Lord Tubbington attempted to hop off the windowsill and landed clumsily in the tall grass. He hastily stood upright again and licked his paws, as if the tumble had been entirely intentional.

"Smooth," Santana guffawed.

She fished into her pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

"Not a word to Brittany, understand?" she sternly instructed.

The cat merely blinked back at her and watched as she took a lighter out of the opposite pocket. Santana shut her eyes, took the first drag, and exhaled.

"I'm not wild about the taste," Santana said. "But they help calm my nerves. I couldn't tell that to anyone if they caught me, though. It'd be all, 'Oh, you're seventeen, what do you have to worry about?' They think I'm the one who's got a lot to learn while they're the ones that really don't know shit."

She let another thin tendril of smoke escape from between her lips.

"I swiped these from Puck's nightstand," Santana explained, angling the label toward Lord Tubbington as if he could read it. "It's all that jackass is good for now. He cut off our previous agreement. Well, good riddance."

Santana slid along the passenger door of her car and sat down on the driveway.

"Not that it's stopped people from assuming we're friends with benefits," she grumbled. "But they're bound to find out that he shot me down. Then what? If I'm not attached to one of the football players, where does that put me?"

Santana shivered as a cool autumn breeze ghosted across the back of her neck. Her eyes looked up toward the second story windows of the Pierces' house and she frowned.

"Even being here is different," she murmured. "I don't come over as often or stay as long. Any time Artie's coming over I have to make myself scarce."

She stamped out her cigarette and let it tumble from her fingertips, rolling down the incline until its path was blocked by the car's rear tire.

Lord Tubbington wandered over and began gnawing on her shoelace. Santana twitched her foot listlessly but did little else to deter him.

"I swear, Tubbs, I'm going crazy," she sighed. "I even considered starting something up with Finn, for Christ's sake."

Santana let her head bounce against the side of the car with a thump.

"Quinn's been getting all cozy with Sam. I just know she's going to get it all back, be ruler of the school all over again. Meanwhile I'm losing more and more influence every day. Some damn freshman let a door slam in my face this afternoon. A freshman! If I can't put the fear of God in a shrimp that small, who's to say what anarchy I'll be facing with the upperclassmen? Karofsky bullied Kurt until he transferred to Dalton. I—Are you even listening to me?"

Lord Tubbington had crouched down on all fours and was wriggling his rump, slowly approaching something that had caught his eye. He prepared to pounce.

Santana got on her knees and squinted as she tried to discern what the cat wanted to catch. A moment later, he reemerged from under the car with something bent and white hanging out of the corner of his mouth.

"Tubby, what the hell?!" Santana scolded him and scooped the feline into her arms. "That's my used cigarette, you crazy cat. That's not for you! Drop it."

She gently applied pressure to either side of his jaw with her fingers until he released the stub. Reluctantly, Lord Tubbington let it fall to the ground.

"There. No use with us both picking up bad habits," Santana said. "Although, honestly, I had enough of those even before I started smoking."

The corner of her mouth turned down and she chewed pensively on the inside of her cheek.

"Like nosing into other people's business," she clarified aloud, even though the occupant of her embrace was closing his eyes. "I told Rachel about how I hooked up with Finn. It's just been eating away at me, and I convinced myself I was totally justified, all the way up until Rachel looked like someone had kicked her in the gut."

Santana dropped her chin onto her chest as her shoulders drooped.

"That voice in the back of my mind kept calling bullshit, you know?" she said. "I kept thinking, 'He can't just pretend that didn't happen. I can't stand by and see him act like having sex with me didn't count, because it did.' Sex is still sex even if it's with somebody different from who you planned; it still means something."

Her eyes traveled to the silver bracelet on her wrist and she sniffled loudly.

"In the end, I'm not any better. But, even after denying the truth, I'm still facing the consequences."

… … …

"Woah, look out for that ledge!" Mike cautioned as he caught Brittany's hand.

She had accidentally spun in too many circles and nearly toppled over the side of the stage.

"Thanks," Brittany smiled gratefully.

"No problem," Mike nodded. "Maybe it's a good time for a little breather."

They had been rehearsing for Sectionals at every available opportunity, even packing their lunches so they could eat them quickly and then continue to practice. Both Brittany and Mike were very nervous about the importance of their role in this competition. While they had danced in front of an audience many times before, they had never had the possible fate of their group's win or loss resting on their shoulders.

Brittany sat down by the curtains on stage right and pulled her backpack toward her. She opened the front pouch and took out a comb. Her free hand untied her ponytail before she began brushing it all back again.

"What happened to that thing?" Mike asked and pointed at the comb. "The shaft's all cracked and the teeth are sticking in different directions."

"It's Artie's magic comb," Brittany explained. "He said it's lucky. If I brush my hair with it, I'm guaranteed to succeed. It can't hurt, right?"

"I guess," Mike agreed hesitantly.

"Ouch," Brittany mumbled as the comb hit a snag in her hair. "I must've knotted it up during the routine."

"Here, let me see if I can get it," Mike offered.

He scooted over and put his legs on either side of her. Brittany passed him the comb and held patiently still. One of Mike's hands pressed down on her shoulder while the other gently worked at the knot until it untangled.

"Looks like your dance partnership isn't the only thing that's been rekindled," said a voice in the front row.

Brittany and Mike turned toward the sound and saw Tina standing there with tears rimming her eyes. Mike's jaw dropped and his brow furrowed. Tina didn't wait for an explanation. Scarcely stifling a sob, she darted out of the auditorium and into the hall.

"Tina, wait!" Mike cried desperately.

"I'll go after her," Brittany offered as she was already leaping off the stage. "I can explain."

She ran as fast as her legs could carry her, out through the door and along the hall, until she skidded to a halt in front of the other girl.

"Tina, please, what you saw wasn't what you think," Brittany insisted.

"I don't want to talk to you," Tina shot back, trying to sidestep her, but her classmate was too quick.

"You've got to hear me," Brittany said. "Mike is like the greatest guy I've ever known. He would never cheat on you."

"Maybe he wouldn't mean to, but spending all that time with you could bring something back," Tina retorted. "Which it clearly did since you were in his lap!"

"It didn't, I promise." Brittany shook her head.

"You were his first," Tina wept bitterly. "He told me so! Now he wants you back. Of course he would. Look at you, with your perfect blonde hair and long legs and blue eyes."

She kicked a locker before resting her head against the one above it.

"I can't pretend I don't see the appeal when I kissed you, too," Tina mumbled.

Brittany's eyebrows lifted. Tina angled her head and gave the other girl a rueful smile.

"Yeah, I remember," she confirmed.

Brittany cautiously approached Tina and touched her shoulder.

"That was a long time ago," Brittany said softly. "Did he tell you why we broke up?"

Tina shook her head.

"Because we weren't right together. We knew as soon as that happened that we were really better off as friends, and we still are."

She bobbed her head reassuringly. Tina turned away from the lockers and ran her thumb under both her eyelids.

"But you know who is good with him?" Brittany prompted. "You. Mike is happier than I've ever seen him and I know it's because of you, Tina. He's crazy about you."

More tears spilled from Tina's eyes, but the joy in her expression indicated that they were of a glad variety.

"He makes me really happy, too," she said. "That's why I'm so afraid to lose him."

"I won't take him from you, cross my heart," Brittany promised.

She held out her arms invitingly. Tina hesitated a moment but then accepted the hug.

"But, if I see any non-dancing funny business, I reserve the right to protest," Tina asserted and pointed at her. She smiled a little to soften the words.

Brittany smiled back and nodded.

"Understood."

… … …

The night of Sectionals, their bus did not return to McKinley's parking lot until long after darkness had fallen. The New Directions filed down the steps onto the blacktop and dispersed toward their respective vehicles, cheering triumphantly over their tie with The Dalton Academy Warblers. They would be going on to Regionals.

Santana shouldered her duffel bag and listened to the echoing cries of her classmates. She allowed herself a brief smile and then veered off down a small flight of steps to the lower lot where her car was waiting.

"Santana!"

She shut her eyes and clutched the strap of her bag a little more tightly.

"Yeah?" she asked lightly as she turned to face her friend.

"I wanted to tell you that you did a really great job tonight," Brittany said from the top of the stairs. "Your solo was perfect. It was why we won, I know it."

"I don't know," Santana countered. "I think it was your dancing that put us over the top. You and Mike really killed it out there."

Brittany beamed. She sat on the railing and slid down, landing directly in front of where Santana stood.

"Maybe it was both," she shrugged. "We always did make a good team."

"Yeah, we do," Santana agreed softly.

They both shuffled their feet, tapping the toes of their sneakers against each other.

"Well, I've gotta go," Brittany said regretfully. "Artie just called his mom to tell her we're back and she's gonna be here in a minute to get us."

She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Santana's cheek.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Santana returned with her eyes still averted. She couldn't bear to watch the other girl walk away from her.

When she was sure that Brittany had gone, Santana continued walking toward her car and took the keys out of her pocket. She climbed in, threw the duffel onto the backseat, and started the engine. Evidently, she had left the radio playing on her drive to school because it began blasting through the speakers a moment after she turned the key.

Santana winced at first, adjusting the volume, but then she recognized the lyrics midway through the song. As she turned left onto Spartan Way, her hands tapped angrily against the steering wheel. By the time she was on East North Street, Santana's eyebrows had lowered and she was singing along passionately, altering the words to fit the images tormenting her thoughts.

"Did you forget about me, Ms. Duplicity?

I hate to bug you in the middle of dinner

It was a slap in the face

How quickly I was replaced

And are you thinking of me when you fuck him?"

She rolled down her window and let the evening air cool her skin, although it did nothing to cool her anger. Her fingers flicked on the turning signal before cranking the volume back up as she belted out the chorus.

"And I'm here to remind you

Of the mess you left when you went away

It's not fair to deny me

Of the cross I bear that you gave to me

You, you, you oughta know!"

Santana rubbed furiously at her eyes, disgusted with herself for crying when she had been trying so hard to hold onto the rage. The scenes that had been playing before her mind's eye had certainly been enough to make her blood boil – Brittany wheeling Artie down the aisle at Burt Hummel and Carole Hudson's wedding, the two of them being each other's partner for group Glee numbers, seeing them kissing backstage at Sectionals – but she could not seem to take all that anger and direct it at Brittany herself.

Because it isn't her fault, Santana acknowledged inwardly. It's yours.

She smacked her dashboard and growled a stream of swear words, blending them all together into a single utterance. Her eyes met those of her reflection in the rearview mirror.

"Snap out of it!" she commanded.

Santana shut her eyes at the next stoplight, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth. She forced herself to think instead of how it had felt to perform not just a few lines, but to have an entire song being led by her alone. Her heart swelled with pride as she remembered how loudly everyone had cheered. For just those few minutes, she had really felt special as though she were one of a kind.

She'd give anything to feel that way again, to feel that way always. Out there under the lights, everything felt right and the whole world made sense. Why couldn't real life be that simple?

… … …

"So, what are your plans for Christmas vacation?" Artie asked.

He handed Brittany the next string of lights, which she carefully pinned in place with thumbtacks. They were decorating Katy's dollhouse as a surprise for when she came home from school. It was turning out to be quite extravagant; Brittany had even fashioned tiny ornaments out of beads and wire.

"Just the usual," Brittany replied as she sat back and surveyed the scene. "We put trees in every room, like a whole Christmas forest. They're artificial 'cause my sister's allergic to the real ones, but that's okay because fake trees last longer. We keep them up all the way until right before New Year's Eve."

She turned to Artie and beamed, already thinking ahead to the morning of December 25th.

"I wake my sister up and carry her downstairs. It's a little tricky getting down the steps when I can't see my feet, but I just go extra slowly and hold on to the railing. She doesn't totally wake up until she sees the tree in the living room. It's the most magical of all, lit up with the different colored lights and the glass ornaments."

Artie nodded and smiled, captivated by Brittany's descriptions. It was hard not to get caught up when her eyes were so alight and her face became so expressive. She could make anything sound wondrous.

"We get to be as messy as we like on Christmas morning," Brittany enthused. "Wrapping paper everywhere – you can't even see the carpet underneath it. We stick the bows on Dad's head and tie the ribbons to Lord Tubbington's collar. Dad doesn't mind, but Tubbington's kind of a Scrooge."

She chuckled as she set up the dolls around their own little tree, positioning the Ken doll to hold the little Kelly up where she could top the tree with a star.

"That sounds really special," Artie said and watched how steady her hands were while she focused on the most miniscule details. "What are you expecting to get this year?"

Brittany placed her hands on her thighs and shrugged.

"I don't really have anything I want this Christmas," she admitted bemusedly. "Except… but you can't wrap a miracle and put it under the tree. They're supposed to just kinda happen on their own, or at least that's how it sounds from what Santana told me."

Artie's brow furrowed and his head tilted to the side.

"A miracle?" he repeated. "What did you have in mind?"

Brittany shifted to face him, although her eyes didn't quite meet his.

"Every year, my sister and I go sledding at that really big hill in the park. It's one of the best parts of our whole winter break and we always have so much fun."

She scooted across the carpet on her knees and held his hands in hers.

"I just… I really wish that… I really wish you could walk, so you could come with us. I want to sled with you and have snowball fights and build forts. I want to share all that special stuff with you, because you're special, you know?"

Brittany frowned and rested her cheek on Artie's kneecaps. He smiled and smoothed back her hair.

"I'm really glad you want to take me with you. It means a lot," he told her. "But, I mean, just because I can't run or trek up and down that hill doesn't mean we can't come up with other ways to make it happen."

Brittany lifted her head hopefully and looked into his eyes.

"I can still decorate the face of the snowman, and I can make a mean snowball. I've got a wicked arm," he boasted with a grin. "And I'm always game for some hot chocolate."

"With extra marshmallows?" Brittany asked brightly.

"Hell yes," Artie enthused. "See? It's okay. We don't need to have a miracle. I'm not gonna let a little thing like this chair get in the way of having fun with my girlfriend."

He waggled his eyebrows and Brittany giggled at his implied double meaning. She climbed up onto his lap and put her arms around his neck.

"Thanks, Artie," Brittany whispered and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. "I feel a lot better now."

"That's what I'm here for," Artie shrugged modestly. "If you can't cheer up the people you care about the most, what good are you?"

… … …

Quinn tugged on a robe over her pajamas and quietly locked her bedroom door. Her mother was downstairs drinking eggnog and watching It's A Wonderful Life, which should give her at least a couple of hours of peace.

She picked up her laptop where it sat on the bedside table and carried it over to the mattress. Quinn leaned over to check her alarm clock. 1:59 p.m. Just one more minute. Her fingers whizzed over the keys as she logged onto Skype and pressed the green call button. Quinn's own image sat in a small box before another larger one loaded to fill the screen.

"Hey," Frannie greeted with a warm smile. "Merry Christmas, Goose."

"Merry Christmas," Quinn returned, gripping the sides of her laptop as though it would somehow let her touch her sister even from so far away. "How's Chicago?"

"Freezing," Frannie replied with a laugh. "The porch looks like it has a set of teeth with all the icicles it has hanging off it."

"And Alisha?" Quinn prompted.

"She's great," Frannie said as her face broke into an irrepressible grin. "Her family's here visiting. That's where she is now, playing foosball with her brothers. She told me to say hello."

"Tell her I said hi back," Quinn told her, unable to keep from smiling a little as well. "I'm so glad you're happy, Frannie."

Her sister poked the screen as though she were nudging Quinn's shoulder.

"What about you?"

"I'm all right," Quinn answered. "Sam's going to pick me up a little later to take me to his house for dinner. Anyplace would beat staying here. Mom's not taking her first Christmas without Dad too well."

Frannie chewed on her lip.

"No, I suppose she wouldn't be," she murmured. "Keep an eye on the mini bar. Let me know if she starts hitting the stock too hard. Mom may not have drunken rages, but that doesn't mean she can't wreak emotional havoc of her own if she gets too far gone."

Quinn nodded in silent agreement.

"I wish I was enough," she confessed after a moment. "To pull her out of it. She just keeps acting like her whole identity is gone. What about being our mom? That's one title she hasn't lost."

Frannie sighed and rested her chin on her fists.

"To tell you the truth, kiddo, she may have spent the past twenty-five years being a mother, but Judy has far less experience being a mom. She doesn't know how to do the whole parenting thing without Russell making all the big decisions. I think it freaks her out to suddenly have to do all this thinking for herself."

"She's a human being with a mind of her own," Quinn griped. "She can't be that much of a blank slate."

"You might be surprised," Frannie countered. "Somebody keeps you in line for that long, sets boundaries and makes you pay if you don't respect them… You teach yourself not to have opinions."

Quinn folded her arms and frowned.

"I guess so. I suppose you and I aren't the only ones who have a lot of recovering to do."

"Exactly." Frannie nodded. "Just give her time. There's some good in there. She'll come around."

Quinn nodded reluctantly.

"All right. I'll try."

"That's all anyone can ask of you," Frannie smiled.

"Frannie?" a muffled voice called from somewhere off-screen. "Lunch is almost ready. Are you coming?"

Quinn could tell from the way Frannie's whole face was suddenly alight that it must have been Alisha who had spoken.

"Go ahead," she permitted kindly. "I'll talk to you later."

Frannie pressed her fingers to her lips and then touched them to the camera at the top of her laptop.

"I'll see you soon," she promised.

"Yeah," Quinn agreed quietly and returned the kiss gesture. "See you soon."

… … …

Brittany set her duffel bag down on a bench in the locker room. She and Santana were the first to arrive for cheerleading practice after returning from the winter break. Someone had finally mopped the floors and the linoleum gleamed and squeaked underfoot. The various odors had been cleared away by the strong scent of cleaning products.

"Not half bad," Santana remarked approvingly. "The place looks halfway clean."

"Yeah," Brittany agreed. "Only… What is that?"

She pointed to what appeared to be a pair of sneakers sticking out from the storage closet in the far corner.

"Did Sue finally snap and finish one of us off?" Santana joked. "Not gonna lie; I hope it's Veronica."

Brittany cautiously approached the closet and swung the door open with a push.

"It's a dummy."

"That could describe at least half the squad," Santana quipped. "You'll have to narrow it down a bit for me."

"No, it's literally a dummy. Like the kind in crash tests. Look!"

Santana's eyebrows drew together as she joined Brittany on the other side of the room.

"What the fuck?" she mumbled.

She hefted the large doll over one shoulder and dragged it to a bench by the wall. With some difficulty, Santana propped it into a sitting position and studied the dummy more closely.

"It kinda looks like you, Britt," Santana remarked.

Brittany wrinkled her nose in disagreement.

"Somebody's got some creepy as hell fetish that we don't know about," Santana concluded. "But they didn't do half bad on the face."

She held the mannequin's chin and tilted it toward Brittany.

"Look at this little cutie," she teased. "All shut up in the dark and she still comes out smiling."

Brittany laughed and shook her head.

"She has to smile. They made her that way."

Santana leaned back against the wall while Brittany opened her bag and began putting things back in her locker. When Brittany turned around again, Santana had pulled the pair of sunglasses out of her own bag and perched them on the end of her nose. Her arm was slung casually around the mannequin.

"How you doin'?" she asked with a nod in the doll's direction.

She turned the dummy toward her as though it were responding to her greeting.

"Listen, babe," Santana continued with a thick Brooklyn accent. "You've gotta lay off this thing with the coach. She's bad news, kid. Why don't you come out with me tonight? I could show you what it's like to have a real good time."

Her free hand pulled off the sunglasses and she leaned in to give the mannequin a kiss. She slid that same hand along its thigh and edged under the doll's skirt.

Brittany stifled her laughter and cleared her throat.

"Should I leave you two alone?"

Santana pushed the doll away and pretended to smooth her hair.

"Later, baby, later. I've gotta get to practice. Big game comin' up, ya know."

Brittany giggled and zipped her duffel closed.

"You're silly," she said affectionately. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom really quickly before everybody else gets here."

Santana watched her go and sighed. She lolled her head to the side and looked at the mannequin, still smiling benignly.

"Looks like that little tryst with you is the most action I'm gonna be getting for a while."

… … …

"Well, this is a whole new level of crazy, even for Ms. Sylvester," Quinn groused as she accepted her coffee from the barista and walked toward an empty table in the corner.

"Shooting Brittany out of a canon? That's crap!" Santana fumed. "Now we know what that doll was for."

"She thinks it's the same thing," Brittany mumbled dejectedly. "Shooting the mannequin out of the canon and shooting me – trading one dummy for another."

Quinn frowned sympathetically and patted Brittany's hand.

"We won't let her do it, Brittany," she promised. "There's no way. You could die. I'm not losing my best friend because our insane cheerleading coach wants us to finish the season with a bang."

Brittany smiled gratefully but then continued fretfully stirring cream into her drink.

"So what do we do?" Quinn asked her friends. "Quit?"

"Hell no!" Santana responded immediately. "How does us getting thrown to the bottom of the social ladder do anything to punish Sue?"

"I don't want to let it go either but, if we stay, it's like we're condoning her behavior," Quinn said.

"But if we go, nobody else is gonna have the guts to take a stand," Santana protested. "None of them have any loyalty to each other. They don't care who gets hurt, so long as it isn't them."

"So we go over her head," Quinn suggested. "Take it up with the board. Get them to tell her she can't pull a stunt like this. If I get Mr. Schue to file the complaint, she'll think it was him and not us."

"She'll know, though," Brittany said quietly. "She'll know one of us told him. Coach will still make sure we suffer."

Santana frowned and rubbed Brittany's arm. The three girls released a collective sigh.

"High school is all about boxes," Brittany said after a moment. "I just don't want cheerleading to put me in the permanent kind that goes in the ground."

Santana bobbed her head in agreement.

"We used to be looked at as a kind of female trifecta," Santana said. "The Slut, The Bitch, and The Tease."

She shot an apologetic look at both of her friends in turn.

"Now we're barely holding onto our status as the stars of our squad," Santana continued. "I want to hit Sue where it hurts just as much as you guys, but I want to do it in a way that won't ruin the year and a half we've still got in that prison."

Brittany reached for Santana's hand. She rubbed her fingers over the back of it pensively.

"Maybe I can do it."

"No," Quinn disputed vehemently. "I'm not letting you get in there."

"I'm good at risky stuff nobody else can do," Brittany shrugged. "At least there will be a net. It'll be fine."

Quinn bit her lip. She looked from Brittany, with her trembling hands and determined face, to Santana with her set jaw and guilt-stricken eyes.

"Maybe you're right," she admitted despondently. "Coach has us between a rock and a hard place right now. Maybe this is one of those battles we have to let her win."

… … …

Fortunately, they did not have to concede defeat for long.

Just when the situation had escalated to an all-out showdown, with Sue forcing the three of them to choose between the Glee Club performance in the halftime show at the football game or attending their own cheering competition, things finally turned around in their favor. Finn arrived just before they could get on the bus and encouraged them to rebel, to deny Sue her three key players when it was too late in the game for her to replace them with other teammates.

Without conferencing, Brittany, Santana, and Quinn knew that this was the moment. They agreed and proudly called out their resignation from across the parking lot, far enough away that Coach Sylvester could not physically strike at them.

Naturally, she was livid, but there was nothing she could do. For once, her temper tantrums and double dealing could not remedy the situation to suit her purposes. She would have to face the competition without her three best Cheerios and, whether she ultimately admitted it or not, Sue had no one but herself to blame.

The night could not have been more triumphant. Their performance of a Thriller and Heads Will Roll mash-up was a smash hit, and the Titans went on to win the championship. Amidst the rush of the cheering crowd, Quinn turned and caught Finn's eye. His face was aglow with joy over their victory and pride in the part he had played. Quinn returned his smile as she felt a familiar pang in her chest.

That Friday, after school was out and most people had gone home, Quinn waited patiently in the hall to speak to Finn. He was a short distance away, trying to talk to Karofsky. Quinn clasped her hands behind her back and leaned against the lockers. Her pulse was thundering, but she knew this was a conversation that she wanted to have.

As Finn turned and approached her, she greeted him and explained that she never got the chance to thank him for helping her do the right thing. He graciously said that she eventually would have found the courage even without him. Quinn felt her heart swell at the fact that he could still say something so kind, even after how badly she had hurt him the previous year.

"You were amazing this week," she told him sincerely. "On the field and off. Reminded me of why I loved you."

She took a deep breath and reached out to cup the back of his neck. As her lips touched his, she tried to convey all the words she'd been wanting to say to him but had been afraid that he wouldn't let her speak.

I miss you.

I'm sorry.

You're still so special.

Forgive me.

She broke away and looked up into his eyes. Though Quinn wasn't sure what she had wanted to see there, all she was able to discern was surprise and confusion. Losing her nerve, Quinn turned and walked briskly away.

Finn stood with his arms still extended, gazing bewilderedly at the vacant space she had left behind.

… … …

"Don't you have any more of the red kind?" Puck asked the cashier desperately. "It's really important. My girlfriend's super picky, so it's gotta be perfect."

"I'll see if I can check the back," the cashier shrugged and shuffled away.

"What could you possibly be getting from this pitiful little place that would make a suitable Valentine's Day present?" Santana demanded from behind him.

Puck jumped.

"Shit!" he swore as he held a hand to his chest. "How do you always sneak up on me like that?"

"Maybe it's because you're so oblivious," Santana replied. "So I take it this 'girlfriend' you're referring to is Zizes?"

"Yeah, I'm trying to surprise Lauren so she'll finally give me a shot at being with her," Puck answered a little defensively.

"C'mon, Puckerman, you can't be that hard up," Santana said critically. "Where is the appeal in someone who could crush you like a soda can?"

"She's really cool, all right?" Puck shot back irritably. "And she's just got this hold over me. None of the usual things work. She isn't impressed by any of my moves. Plus she's so confident. It's sexy as hell. It makes me want to get with her that much more."

"You are one sick, twisted little man," Santana sneered with a curl of her lip. "That number in Glee Club was supposed to get you in her pants too, wasn't it? Fat Bottomed Girls. Here's a tip, genius: Fat, skinny, or anywhere in the middle, girls don't want you to sing an entire song about their ass."

Puck rubbed the back of his neck.

"Yeah. I, uh, found that one out the hard way."

Santana folded her arms across her chest.

"While I've got you as my captive audience, since the cashier hasn't returned yet," Santana prefaced. "Let me ask you a question."

"I thought that's what you were already doing," Puck grumbled.

Santana held up a finger and waggled it in front of his face.

"I don't want any of your snark right now," she growled. "I just want to know one thing. Did it ever occur to you to sing a song to me in Glee when we were together?"

"No," Puck answered immediately without thinking. "Why would I do that?"

"Because I was your girlfriend," Santana shot back heatedly. "You really are something, you know that? Most guys start out strong with all these big gestures and then, as time goes on and they get new girlfriends, they start slacking off because they set the bar too high. You went the other way around. You treated me like complete crap, so you could only go up from there. Rachel got Prince Charming, Quinn got Mr. Family Man, and now Lauren is getting freaking Don Juan!"

She set her basket of items down on an empty register, leaving them behind as she sidestepped Puck and walked briskly toward the exit.

"You know, you'd be a lot happier if you could just admit that I never could have given you what you wanted," Puck called after her.

"That right there," Santana responded as she turned around to face him. "Is probably the only thing on which you and I will ever agree."

She shouldered her purse and glared venomously.

"It was true then and it's true now. Just like always, if I want something done, I've gotta do it myself!"

… … …

Brittany was passing the nurse's office when she suddenly did a double take. She thought she had seen a familiar face. Walking backwards, she peered in through the doorway.

"Santana?" she said softly.

The other girl wiped hastily at her nose with the back of her hand. Brittany frowned and approached her.

"What happened?" she asked. "Why are you in here?"

"I got in a bit of a fight," Santana shrugged bashfully. Her eyes stayed downcast, trying to hide that they were rimmed in red from crying.

"Who did you fight?" Brittany questioned, crouching low to see her face.

"Lauren Zizes."

Brittany checked to make sure the nurse was nowhere in sight. Then she popped herself onto the patient's table where Santana was sitting.

"It was over Puck, wasn't it?"

"Sort of. I don't know. The whole thing just got way out of hand," Santana admitted. "I went to Jared and got myself a heart necklace for Valentine's Day. I knew that was the only way I was going to get one. Then I met up with Puck and tried to talk him into taking me out on the fourteenth. I even agreed to be nicer to that troll he calls a girlfriend, but then Lauren was right behind me and I kind of broke my promise."

Brittany couldn't suppress a tiny smile. She knew full well what 'kinda' likely entailed. Santana must have unleashed the full wrath of Lima Heights Adjacent the moment Lauren made her presence known. Not that doing so would have been much of a deterrent to someone who could so easily best her in strength.

"Then what happened?"

Santana hid behind her fingers.

"It was a disaster," she groaned. "I put everything I had into going up against her but she threw me around like a rag doll. That wouldn't have been so bad if she hadn't topped it off by spiraling me across the floor at the end. I slid right to Coach Beiste's feet and she slung me over her shoulder to take me here to the nurse's office. It was humiliating."

Brittany reached out a hand and rubbed Santana's back.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Santana responded sulkily. "The nurse patched me up and everything, so I'm all set to go."

Brittany slid her feet onto the floor and circled to stand in front of Santana.

"But are you okay?" she repeated.

Her eyes looked right into Santana's until the latter had to look away.

"As well as can be expected."

Brittany edged Santana's clothes up and clicked her tongue when she saw the thick white bandages that were wound around her ribcage.

"Any breaks?"

"Just some bruising, as far as she can tell," Santana replied. "But she wants me to keep the wraps on in case there are any hairline fractures or something. I guess I'll have to have Papi take a look at it for me. That ought to be fun."

Brittany smoothed back Santana's hair.

"I have to get to class," she said regretfully. "But I'll call you later."

Santana nodded, staring down at her sneakers. Brittany cupped the other girl's face in her hands and pressed a kiss to her forehead. She rubbed her thumbs along Santana's cheeks and then let her hands fall back to her sides.

"Feel better soon."

… … …

"So how was it?" Sam asked.

"How was what?" Quinn said benignly as she drove out of McKinley's parking lot.

"The kiss with Finn."

Quinn shut her eyes and shook her head. Finn had recently set up a Kissing Booth under the pretense of earning money for the Glee Club. He was charging a dollar per kiss and was drawing in almost every girl in the school – every girl except Quinn herself.

She alone knew the real reason he had started the fundraiser. Finn had read more into their kiss in the hall than she intended, and now he wanted another to confirm his suspicions. Quinn hated to admit it, but she had felt something, too. It was just a spark, but it was there. She was determined not to let it be anything more, to leave it behind as a momentary impulse that should never be explored.

Only then Sam got involved. He saw the way Finn was talking so close to Quinn's face - "kissing distance," he had called it – and he confronted his girlfriend about the conspicuous behavior. Irritated and determined to prove both to Sam and to herself that this meant nothing, Quinn had consented to visit the kissing booth. Sam had accompanied her to witness it for himself and make sure it was all as innocent as she claimed.

"You watched me, Sam," Quinn reminded him at last. "It was a blink-and-you-miss-it kiss. No big deal, hardly worth the dollar that it cost."

"Did you feel anything?"

"No," Quinn lied immediately.

She had. With just that one extra kiss, the spark had fanned itself into the same old flame she had felt when Finn was still hers. It sent a jolt through her system and, after deliberately leaving her purse behind, she ran back to whisper to Finn that he should meet her in the auditorium the following afternoon.

Sam turned and studied Quinn for a moment. She tried to give him her brightest smile and, after a moment, he returned it.

"Cool," he murmured. "Sorry for all the hassle. I should've just taken your word for it. What's passed is past, right?"

Quinn nodded and kept her eyes trained on the road.

If only that were true…

… … …

Sam wasn't the only one with suspicions. Santana had seen the looks that Finn and Quinn were exchanging in the choir room and knew immediately that something had changed.

Just to be sure that she was right, and to guarantee that everyone else would catch on as well, Santana hatched a plan. She took out the candy striper outfit she'd worn the few times that she volunteered at her dad's hospital and set to work. It required a few modifications to suit her style, but soon Santana had made it short and low-cut enough that she felt the costume was ready for its McKinley High debut.

The next day, Santana went back to the nurse's office, this time to offer her services to help the sick. There was a boy who had recently come down with mono and was sitting concealed behind a privacy curtain. Perfect.

Santana sidestepped the nurse and burst through the curtain, making a beeline for the miserable teen who was seated there. She told him that she needed to borrow his germs. Utterly transfixed by both her outfit and the awareness that he was being addressed by one of the most popular girls in school, the boy did nothing to protest her proposition.

So Santana grabbed the back of his head and pulled him in for a kiss. When she was sure she'd lingered long enough to make herself a carrier, she released her hold on him. While the boy was still stammering his thanks, Santana whirled around and left the room just as quickly as she had arrived.

Her next stop was Finn's kissing booth. He barely had long enough to register that she had approached before Santana pressed her lips against his.

"Sorry about that," Santana said in a chipper voice. "I couldn't help myself. If I have anything, I hope it's not contagious."

Then she left Finn with a parting smirk and waited for her plan to come to fruition. Sure enough, by the following afternoon, both Finn and Quinn were showing signs of mono. Santana helped diagnose them in a confident, carrying voice. She added that it helped increase the likelihood of spreading if the kiss involved tongue. Though Sam protested on Quinn's behalf that the kiss she had shared with Finn was only a peck, the expression in his eyes was one of doubt.

When both Quinn and Finn finally had to be excused to see the nurse, Santana crossed her legs and sat back proudly.

Mission accomplished.

… … …

"Rachel talked to me the other day," Brittany announced as she settled into her desk chair.

On her computer screen, Santana and Quinn looked back at her, both appearing surprised and perplexed.

"She paid me a bunch of money."

"For what?" Santana queried.

"She wants to make a comeback," Brittany explained. "I don't really get what she's coming back from, though. Rachel said to buy clothes like hers and wear them to school, and then tell anybody who asked that she was the one who inspired me."

"The only reason anyone would ask you about clothes like that is to make sure you hadn't suffered a recent blow to the head," Santana deadpanned. "What are you going to do?"

"I tried legwarmers first," Brittany explained. "Only I didn't like having them on my legs. They felt like they were squeezing my calves like a python. So I put them on my arms 'cause it's been so cold."

"Oh yeah, I noticed that," Quinn recalled in a slightly raspy voice. "I sort of wished I had some, because it was freezing that morning."

"Yeah, it did come in handy," Brittany acknowledged. "But Rachel didn't like it. She told me I had to wear what she wore the same way she wore it."

"Demanding little bitch," Santana commented. "If she weren't paying you, I'd recommend that you tell her to fuck off. Actually, even though she is paying you, I still encourage it. She has it coming after telling me the only job I could get is as a stripper."

Still bitter about Santana's involvement in her catching mono, Quinn did not dispute the insult Rachel had fired. She did, however, offer a suggestion.

"What if there was a way to turn it around and make her plan backfire?"

"You have our attention, Froggy," Santana acknowledged. "Shoot."

Quinn glared but continued.

"What if everybody started wearing exactly the same wardrobe she does, head to foot, but she didn't get the credit for starting the trend?"

"Maybe then she'd stop following me," Brittany said hopefully. "But who would be the trendsetter instead?"

"You," Quinn replied simply.

"Go on," Santana prompted as Brittany blushed a little.

"Britt's the perfect candidate," Quinn continued. "She's already been paid to wear the clothes anyway. Not to mention that she's nice to everyone, so they admire her already. Getting them to dress like her will be a synch. They already emulated the legwarmers on the arms thing, right?"

"Yeah," Brittany acknowledged reluctantly.

"So we take it one step further," Quinn replied. "Tomorrow, Britt, you and Santana and I will all wear pencil skirts and sweaters with carousel horses. Oh, and tights with penny loafers."

"Wait, but how do we make sure Brittany gets the credit?" Santana clarified.

"We talk about it," Quinn responded. "Stand together and talk it over. People will overhear and word will spread."

"Berry is gonna be so pissed," Santana cackled. "I love it!"

"Won't it look suspicious if only my two best friends are following my lead?" Brittany voiced tentatively.

"Good point," Quinn conceded, but then suddenly her eyes brightened. "Tina!"

Santana and Brittany both leaned away from their computers, alarmed by the exclamation.

"You have Tina's number don't you?" Quinn asked Brittany. "You guys have been kind of getting along ever since you sorted out the Mike situation."

"Yeah, she's really nice," Brittany nodded. "And she's not always too crazy about Rachel…"

"Exactly," Quinn nodded sagely. "She'll help us out; I know it. Text her the details. Tomorrow, at eight o'clock, it's game on."

… … …

Though she did carry out Quinn's mission as they planned, Santana did not let that deter her from her own course of action.

She had found her window of opportunity: a chance for a new boyfriend, a new start, and strengthened social status. Santana had decided to start dating Sam. The only trick now was convincing him that this was a good idea.

Santana fed off his doubt about Quinn's fidelity. She flat out told him that the story he'd been fed – that Quinn had caught mono by sucking a gumball out of Finn's mouth to save him from choking – was a laughable lie. Then she offered herself as a mistress, a means of paying Quinn back in kind.

Sam looked wounded and hesitant, wanting so badly for his first love to still be someone on whom he could depend. However, it was clear that he knew no amount of wishing could change the facts that were staring him in the face.

He didn't give her an answer just then but, after school that day, Santana received a text on her phone.

The offer – I'm in. Meet me at 7 to talk?

Where? Santana sent back as she unlocked her car door.

GameStop. It's where I like to go to think.

Santana laughed and shook her head, but then she texted a confirmation that she would see him there.

That evening, Santana stepped into the store and lowered the hood of her jacket. She spotted Sam standing over a bin of discount games, rifling through them one at a time.

"Hey, Sammy," she greeted in a low voice.

"Hey," he muttered back without looking up at her.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like crap," Sam answered honestly. "My heart's broken. When I sang that Justin Bieber song earlier this week, it wasn't supposed to be like some kind of prediction. Only now it is, and I just feel stupid."

"You're not stupid," Santana countered automatically. "Pathetically hopeful, maybe, but it's your first time getting ditched. Now don't try to pull that bullshit guy swagger with me and say you've had a bunch of girls before, because I know you haven't."

"I wasn't going to," Sam said. "She is… was… my first love."

He sniffled and started sifting through the games more rapidly, his fingers flying over the titles without really reading them.

"It wasn't supposed to end this soon," he murmured. "I guess it really was naïve to want it to last forever, but was at least one school year too much to ask?"

"No," Santana replied.

She was suddenly beginning to feel that familiar guilt in the pit of her stomach, the kind of sinking feeling that told her she had hurt someone more deeply than she realized by telling them the truth.

"I'm really sorry, Sam," she said sincerely.

"It's not your fault," Sam told her kindly. "You just pointed out what I was being too trusting to see."

"Maybe, but that doesn't make me any less of a bitch for doing it," Santana mumbled.

Sam looked up for the first time and held her gaze.

"I think maybe you're a better person than you realize," he said.

"You really think so?" Santana asked desperately.

"Yeah, I do," Sam nodded. "Which is why I want to spend more time with you, Santana. Only I don't wanna stoop to their level, you know? I want to be the bigger man. I'm going to break up with Quinn first thing the next time we're alone. I won't be a cheater like her."

"Fair enough," Santana agreed and nudged him teasingly with her elbow. "So chivalry isn't dead after all. Sam Evans is going to make an honest woman out of me!"

… … …

"Hey, Brittany?"

Brittany shut her eyes and turned around slowly.

"Yeah, Rachel?"

"Could you listen to something for me?" Rachel asked timidly from the doorway of the choir room.

Brittany shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

"Okay… What is it?"

She followed her classmate inside but stayed close to the exit.

"I've written a song," Rachel explained. "An original song for Regionals. I played it for Finn earlier and we agreed that it sucks but… I want to think maybe there's something I could salvage in it. I just need someone to let me bounce ideas off them. What do you say?"

Rachel patted the piano bench invitingly and gave Brittany a hopeful smile. Scarcely suppressing a sigh, Brittany crossed the room and sat down beside her.

"Thank you," Rachel beamed.

She settled down and fanned out her fingers across the keys.

"There you rest

With all the rest

Of my accessories on my nightstand…"

Brittany nodded encouragingly throughout the song which, as far as she could tell, was about a headband. She wasn't sure if it was dedicated to the red or yellow one Rachel mentioned, but she doubted that part was important.

"So?" Rachel prompted when she finished. "Do you hear anything I could keep and start from there?"

Brittany blinked a few times and twiddled her thumbs.

"Maybe the music part?" she suggested. "You could write different lyrics to go with it. Like maybe about a person instead of… headbands."

Rachel nodded.

"You're right," she said. "I'm hoping that I will have gained a little more emotional depth after the party."

"Party?" Brittany repeated confusedly.

"My dads are going to be gone on a cruise," Rachel elaborated. "Puck suggested throwing a party. I was fully against it at the time but then, after the debut of the song with Finn, now I think it's just the solution I need for this writer's block."

Brittany bobbed her head vaguely although she wasn't entirely convinced the plan was so foolproof.

"Will you come?"

Rachel's voice made Brittany snap back to attention.

"Huh?"

"Will you come to the party this weekend?" Rachel asked.

She clasped her hands together.

"Please say yes. Please, please, please, please, please!"

Brittany bit her lip and leaned her head forward to rest against the piano.

"Okay."

"Yes!" Rachel cried and pumped her fist in the air. "I'm going to hug you now."

She embraced Brittany suddenly and the latter's eyes widened.

"Okay, first things first, I'll have come up with some ground rules," Rachel said aloud as she stood and began pacing the room. "Any party with alcohol is bound to get rowdy. I need to keep it contained."

Brittany turned to watch her walking back and forth across the floor. She eyed the door and wondered if she was allowed to leave.

"No inappropriate language, no raucous behavior around breakables, no sitting on anything, no partygoers allowed to go behind any locked doors," Rachel rattled off the top of her head.

Brittany edged along the wall and backed out through the doorway.

It looked like she'd be going to another party…

… … …

"Well, this is a slow motion disaster," Santana drawled from where she sat sprawled out on the arm of the chair that Sam was occupying.

"Nothin' but wine coolers. What the hell?" Artie chimed in with a wrinkled nose.

Quinn listened from a short distance away and folded her arms across her chest. She ran her tongue over her teeth, struggling not to remark how insensitive it was to serve wine coolers at all, given what they had led to in her own past.

Her eyes traveled idly across the room. There, at the center of the floor, was Rachel. The girl was wandering around and despairingly watching as her party fell apart before it had even really begun.

A small part of Quinn felt pity for the other girl. All Rachel had wanted was to be able to help the club have a good time and enjoy herself along the way. However, quite the opposite was happening now as half the club started meandering over toward the stairs that would lead them to freedom.

Then Puck tried again to persuade Rachel to let him break into the Berrys' liquor cabinet. Left with no alternative except to end the party right there and then, Rachel finally agreed.

Quinn looked on as Rachel tried a series of harder drinks in rapid succession, getting very quickly and visibly inebriated. All around her, the rest of the club members were following suit. Meanwhile, Quinn selected a single cup and curled up in the corner, glaring at where Santana and Sam were making out with abandon.

Why did she suddenly have the feeling that this weekend was about to go from bad to worse?

… … …

All it took was one lingering look and Santana knew that Brittany understood her unspoken message. The throbbing between her thighs had been growing stronger all night; it began when Brittany started stripping and got even stronger after someone suggested body shots. Licking salt off Brittany's abdomen, feeling that skin beneath her again, had been more than a sober Santana could have borne. Fortunately, she had downed enough gulps of various drinks that she was able to laugh it off while everyone was watching.

Now she casually wandered toward the bathroom, swaying her hips as she sauntered. Santana entered the cramped space, turned on the light, and closed the door. By the time Brittany opened it again and slipped through the crack to join her, she was already sitting on the edge of the sink, waiting.

"You dropped this earlier," Santana remarked, waving the girl's discarded white shirt back and forth as she came into view. "I went ahead and picked it up for you… not that you'll need it."

With a flick of her wrist, she threw the blouse toward the open shower.

Brittany's fingers twisted the lock on the door with a soft click. She had scarcely turned back around when Santana leaned forward and kissed her. Brittany's hands hastily pushed back Santana's vest until it slid off her arms and onto the faucet. Santana's nails scraped her bare back as she scrambled for the latch to Brittany's bra, grunting with annoyance when it did not immediately yield to her touch.

The polka dotted garment at last came free and Santana crooked Brittany's elbows while she guided the straps from her limbs. She tossed the unwanted article over her shoulder and lowered her head to drag her warm mouth over the exposed flesh. A low, guttural sound rumbled in Brittany's throat and she clawed at Santana's dress. Cooperatively, Santana pulled away long enough to let her companion push the material down her torso. She guided it the rest of the way herself, allowing the outfit to slip off her feet and pool on the linoleum.

Her legs wrapped around Brittany's hips, locking in place at the small of her back. Brittany's hands gently roved over her body, gradually making their way toward the elastic band around her waist. Santana squeezed her tighter, panting heavily as she waited for Brittany to close the distance. Slender fingers wriggled beneath the lacy material and trailed slowly lower. Santana's breath was just beginning to hitch when everything abruptly stopped. The hand between her thighs withdrew.

"We can't do this," Brittany murmured.

"What are you talking about? Of course we can," Santana insisted.

Her tongue flicked lightly against the other girl's earlobe before her lips pressed against the space directly below it. Brittany did not fight the advance but turned her head away.

"Artie," she whispered by means of explanation.

That was all it took. Instantly, Santana's passion subsided and she jerked back as if burned.

"What does he have to do with anything?"

Brittany's eyes welled up and she shook her head sadly. Without any further clarification, she scooped her shirt off the shower floor and pulled it back over her fair skin. Her fingertips hastily buttoned it in place before she unlocked the door.

"I have to go," she choked out and then darted from the room to return to the party.

Santana was left with her mouth open, mostly naked and entirely confused. The sharp pang that always made it hard to breathe returned to her chest. She decided that the only thing that would silence its nagging persistence was more alcohol. With a huff, she tugged her clothes back into place. Then she briefly checked her appearance in the mirror and went out to join the others.

After successfully locating another drink, Santana wandered around aimlessly. She was in front of Rachel's basement stage when she noticed a strange rubbing sensation against her back. Her hand reached around to determine the source of her discomfort and found a folded lump tucked beneath her vest. When she yanked the object out to look at it, she realized that she had unknowingly been carrying Brittany's bra concealed beneath her clothes.

Her dark eyes bulged and she pressed the material against her stomach, frantically searching for a way to dispose of it. The girl it belonged to was already halfway across the room, seemingly content atop her boyfriend's lap. With no other means to be rid of the incriminating garment, Santana chucked it behind her and hoped that no one would notice its flight.

With that done, Santana set off to search for her new boyfriend. It had been an agonizingly long evening, and, if Brittany wouldn't accept the invitation to touch her, at least Sam would.

… … …

"Who's ready for Body Shots: The Sequel?" Rachel cried raucously.

The cheer was almost entirely unanimous, save for Quinn, who was already feeling moody enough and did not want the anger to become magnified by more alcohol in her bloodstream.

"You know the drill," Rachel continued as she passed out shot glasses and lime wedges to everyone near her. "Lick, shot, lime!"

Puck grabbed the nearest bottle, already more than half empty, and poured out another round of shots. Rachel moved to the middle of the circle and shut her eyes.

"I'm gonna pick two people at random," she announced and began spinning in a circle with her eyelids still clamped together. "Aaaaaand it looks like it's... Sam and Kurt! Ohohoho!"

Their friends clapped and teased good-naturedly. Sam stood and took a bow while Kurt was frantically protesting and looking at Blaine, studying his face for any sign of jealousy.

"Don't worry, man," Sam assured him. "I know you're one of our D.D.s tonight. I'll do the shot."

"That isn't quite the reason for my objection -"

"Oh," Sam realized and his eyebrows shot up comically. "No, no. Clothes are staying right where they are, buddy. Here, I'll show you. I've got an idea."

He picked up his shot glass, the salt shaker, and a lime and set them on the nearby end table. Gently, Sam unbuttoned the sleeve of Kurt's dress shirt and folded back the material. His left hand reached for the salt shaker and shook it twice over his friend's wrist. Then Sam took one quick lick, threw back the shot, and sucked the lime with gusto. Everyone cheered again and Sam tipped an imaginary hat.

"See?" he cried and gave Kurt a few bracing thumps on the back. "No sweat!"

Kurt mouthed 'Oh my God' and darted as far away as possible, sitting instead with Mercedes and Tina who could scarcely breathe from cackling.

Rachel clapped and returned to the middle of her group of companions.

"That was great!" she enthused. "There's just one little problem. This is your hostess's big introduction to alcohol, but I have yet to play this game! We can't have that now, can we?"

Most of the partygoers shouted "No!" Finn, however, was clenching his jaw and taking a sudden interest in the room's décor.

Rachel covered her eyes with one hand and spun in a clumsy circle. She came to a slow stop and peeped out to find herself pointing at someone unexpected. Quinn looked up and blanched.

"No," she said immediately. "Like hell. I have had plenty of drinks already, thank you very much. I'm not in this."

"Oh yes, you are!" Rachel cawed merrily. "You haven't played a single round of this either, Miss Fabray. Don't think I haven't noticed. Get over here."

She grabbed Quinn's arm and hauled her off the stool where she had been perched. Rachel snatched up a filled shot glass, a lime, and the salt shaker Sam had just used. Quinn grimaced and rolled back her sleeve.

The touch of Rachel's lips over her pulse tickled a little and her tongue left a glistening sheen in its wake, but otherwise the experience was relatively painless. Quinn avoided eye contact with anyone all the while and kept an extremely inconvenienced expression on her face.

Rachel withdrew and then saw the way that her friend looked.

"It wasn't that bad, was it?" she asked in dismay. "Tell you what: You do me. Here, we'll switch."

She handed Quinn a shot glass and lime and loosened her dress, exposing her neck.

"I told you, Rachel, I don't want to drink anymore," Quinn protested uncomfortably.

"One more shot!" Rachel pressed, and then she shook salt liberally over her collarbone. "See? You can't just leave it there!"

Quinn rolled her eyes and sighed. She grabbed Rachel's shoulders and pulled her close. Her tongue slipped from between her parted lips and lapped up the salt, every last granule. Rachel shrieked and giggled uncontrollably. Quinn broke away and took the shot, sucked the lime, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

Rachel held her fists high over her head.

"Quinn Fabray took my Body Shot virginity!" she declared.

The rest of the club whooped and hollered appreciatively. Quinn returned to her stool with her face burning. Given how much alcohol had been and remained yet to be consumed, she felt fairly certain almost no one would remember what had just transpired. All the same, she made herself a personal vow: she would never attend another drinking party with Rachel Berry.

... ... ...

The hangover from the previous night proved relentless. Everyone texted each other throughout the following day to complain about their various afflictions. It was ultimately decided that there was only one solution to chase away the pain: have another party. Only this time, no Rachel. Mike's father had an important event out of town to attend and his wife went with him, so the Chang residence was the location of choice.

Santana set off that evening with every nerve ending on edge. She kept her sunglasses securely in place, shielding her squinting eyes from the burning glare of the setting sun. She chewed on her bottom lip and switched on the radio, trying to keep her mind off the fact that Brittany and Artie would no doubt be showing up together. Two consecutive nights of watching the way he smirked so possessively and raucously shouted his claim over her body was more than she could handle.

The minute she arrived and found her way to the Changs' basement, she hit the ground running. Her legs carried her straight to the drinks table and she downed two full cups consecutively before she even said hello to her host. Things were only just beginning but already this promised to be a better party than Berry's. The music and the drinks were better, for a start. Also, the overhead lighting was turned off in favor of scattered lamps and strobe lights. Mike had even managed to find a fog machine. As she made her rounds and greeted the few other early arrivals, Mike brought her a glow-in-the-dark necklace and cracked it. He handed her the glowing green circle to slip over her head. Santana accepted it and lifted the cup she was currently nursing in his direction as an unspoken thank you.

The basement seemed almost impossibly large. As she meandered around the space, Santana made note of several secluded areas she could potentially use as a place to escape if she ran into... them. There were a couple of doors at the far end that likely led to guest rooms. Perhaps she could rely on one of those, if they weren't occupied at her time of need.

Other guests slowly began to filter in: Lauren, Tina, Quinn, as well as quite a few other people who were uninvolved with McKinley's Glee Club but knew Mike in one way or another. Santana nodded to them each in turn and then walked toward the dance floor, where she ran into Sam. He smiled hesitantly, still unsure how enthusiastically she would allow him to greet her.

She was just going to reply with a simple "Hey." However, at that moment, she spotted Finn and Puck helping carry Artie down the stairs in his wheelchair with Brittany not far behind. Santana immediately turned back to the boy standing in front of her and pulled him close enough to crash her mouth against his. She could tell from his initial stillness that she'd caught him by surprise but then his arms wound around her back and he responded in kind.

By the time Brittany and Artie were going to pick up their first drinks, Santana had already tugged her boyfriend to the middle of the floor to dance. She planted both his palms firmly against her hips, making sure to graze her pelvis tantalizingly against his groin as they moved. A low grunt escaped him but Sam just continued to sway with her, waiting for her to indicate when they could go further. His dance partner flicked her dark gaze over his shoulder, curling her lip at what she observed. Brittany was on Artie's lap now. She was carefully easing a cup against his mouth and tilting it back for him to drink since both his hands were occupied holding her in place. Even from that distance, Santana could see the way his eyes locked on Brittany's, suggesting a thousand things in a mere fraction of a second. Brittany set his drink aside on an end table nearby and then grabbed his shoulder, leaning in to kiss him with a smile. Santana's insides boiled and her face felt hot. Rather than turning it into a competition of affection, she just buried her face in Sam's strong chest and shut her eyelids. What she didn't see couldn't hurt, right?

The first couple of hours passed this way. Santana resurfaced from her harbor only long enough to revisit the drink table each time that her previous cup was emptied. She offered to get Sam one as well but he declined. His parents needed him to babysit his brother and sister later, he explained, so he wouldn't be drinking and would also be leaving early. Santana pretended to pout and complained about abandonment, but she was secretly glad that she would soon be free from her latest arm candy. Paying attention to him was exhausting when she would much rather be in a corner somewhere drinking herself into oblivion and keeping an eye on the ever-present happy couple.

Not too long after, Sam checked his watch and confirmed that it was, in fact, time for him to head home. He gave Santana a quick peck on the cheek and flashed her an apologetic smile. She waved him off and Sam crossed the room to let Mike know he was about to go. After his departure, Santana was left to her own devices. She decided that it didn't hurt to stay on the floor for a few more songs. Besides, it would undermine her attempts at feigned indifference if she darted out of sight the minute that she no longer had a man to provide a social buffer.

Her eyelids fluttered closed and she threw back her head as she let the beat take over. The whispering touch of the rapidly spreading fog from the machine breezed across her skin, and for a time she allowed it to convince her that everyone else had disappeared. When her eyes opened again, the wall of gray had indeed grown thick, and it became difficult to distinguish the others in their various places around the darkened basement. Santana grabbed another cup off the table and chugged its contents in one long gulp. She was now decidedly unsteady on her feet and so far removed from her surroundings that she didn't even mind when unfamiliar arms wrapped around her waist from behind.

At some point over the course of the night, all the lamps had been switched off until the strobe lights were all that remained. With so little light and no contacts in – she had been unable to find them that morning - Santana could only distinguish two things about her newfound companion: the person was taller than her by a couple of inches and was definitely female. Not much to go on, but at the time she didn't care. With the fog so thick and all other eyes in the room presumably locked on their respective significant others anyway, she found herself unwilling to spurn this stranger's attention.

They danced together for a time, and Santana allowed herself to enjoy the way smooth, slender fingers skittered across her exposed skin. It wasn't the person she wanted most but right now this was the closest thing she had hope of finding. A firm hand cupped the back of her head, and the next thing she knew a soft mouth was being pressed to hers. This was the first time she had ever kissed any girl other than Brittany but somehow the sensation wasn't altogether unpleasant. She ran her fingers through the other teen's long hair and inhaled her perfume deeply. The stranger released an almost inaudible sigh and Santana smirked against her lips. There was something exhilarating about this anonymous opportunity for experimentation, and she decided to test the water to find out how much she would be allowed to do.

One hand left the other girl's hair and trailed down her body to the back of her pants, wriggling beneath the hem of her jeans to squeeze the curve of cotton beneath. This earned her a muffled moan, which only further encouraged her advances. She freed her other hand to wrap around the teen's waist, edging it underneath the bottom of her shirt and sliding up the gloriously soft skin of her back. Her companion nipped at Santana's bottom lip and pressure built up between her legs that begged for some release. Giddy both from the alcohol clouding her thoughts and the possibility of getting some much-needed satisfaction, Santana guided her potential conquest toward the guest rooms she had scoped out earlier.

Their path was mercifully clear of inquisitive eyes and they reached one of the closed doors without incident. Santana turned the knob and swung it open wide. They entered the pitch black space before them. As the door shut, all the air left Santana's lungs when she was shoved forcefully against the adjacent wall. She giggled to find that she was not the only one currently filled with this undeniable wanting. However, as hands jerked her arms above her head, Santana felt the first tremors of anxiety start in the pit of her stomach. After all, she didn't even know her...

While she was pinned in place, the other girl's mouth found her shoulder. Her teeth grazed the skin and continued their path until they reached Santana's neck, where she gave her several sharp bites. Santana groaned and felt her knees buckle. Forget fear. She needed this. Now.

She wriggled and pouted a little, bumping her hips against the other girl's pelvis, hoping she would take the hint. The stranger released her hold and yanked Santana's torso against her own, allowing them both to fall back onto the large bed behind them. She twisted their bodies around until she was over Santana, swinging one leg to the other side to straddle her. Her hand wrapped around the glow-in-the-dark necklace Santana was still wearing. She tore it off with a pop, exerting so much force that it lifted Santana's head off the pillow and allowed it to fall back with a thump. The plastic was tossed across the room indifferently, and then the girl's hands were back to being pressed against her, setting to work at removing her clothes.

Santana lifted her arms readily, feeling the fabric of her short dress move off her limbs and over her head. She gasped as the slightly chill air left pinpricks across her skin. She helped the other girl unbutton her blouse by touch alone, still having trouble discerning details even by the thin slivers of moonlight coming through the blinds. After that, she removed the stranger's jeans, adding them to the growing pile on the floor.

That soft mouth was on hers again and together they leaned back against the cool sheets. The firm hands pushed roughly along her ribcage, gliding smoothly across the fabric of her bra as they rose higher, and Santana shivered. Still, wonderful as it was to be touched again, she wanted her own chance to explore. Rather than roving over the tempting curves, her hands went first to the girl's face. Her curiosity left her dying to learn who this new acquaintance could be, but the other teen gently grasped her palms and lowered them. The stranger sucked slowly on each of her fingers in turn, hoping to please her enough to quiet any protestations she might have at being denied knowledge of the other's identity. It worked. Santana whimpered and soon forgot everything but the burning heat radiating from the place that had as yet been left decidedly untouched.

"Time for a little truth and dare," the stranger purred in her ear with a throaty chuckle.

Santana's brow furrowed as she struggled to recognize the voice, but it was so slurred and husky with drink and desire that she could not match it with anyone she knew. She shook her head, dismissing the question, and waited for what the other girl would say next. One hand grabbed hers and guided it past the band of white around the mysterious teen's waist, holding it an agonizing few inches from its destination. Santana tried to break free but the stranger clicked her tongue admonishingly.

"Not yet. Listen first. Are you ready?"

Santana nodded emphatically.

"Truth? I've been watching you for hours now, and maybe it's just because I have had way more to drink in the last two days than I've had yet in my entire life, but I couldn't tear my eyes away," the voice hissed.

The now familiar touch of that mouth found her once more but this time not on her lips. It pressed wetly against the visible swell of her breasts, sucking and licking the quivering skin until Santana thought she would burst.

"If you hadn't led me away when you did," the stranger confessed. "I think I might have tried to take you right then and there."

The sound that tore from Santana was almost animalistic, and she pounded her fist against the mattress as she waited for the other girl to give her permission to proceed. The stranger laughed and then moved her mouth to tug on Santana's earlobe as she whispered.

"Dare? Make it worth the wait."

She relinquished her grip on Santana's hand, which shot immediately to close the gap between them. Santana felt one of the stranger's hands slip down her body to mimic the movement. Unfortunately, that instant of release was the last thing Santana's mind registered before everything was shrouded in darkness.

...

The following morning, she awoke to the glaring white light of the sun shining directly through her closed eyelids. Shielding her face with one crooked arm, Santana sat up and rolled her head to rid her neck of its stiffness.

She paused abruptly as she realized that she was not in her own room. Given her surroundings, she took this to be what the room she entered the night before looked like in the daytime. Which meant that she had never left after her little... escapade.

Oh, crap.

Her eyes dropped immediately to her chest, which was still concealed beneath the sheets pulled up over her torso. Tentatively, she peeked under the cloth and released a sigh of relief to find that she was at least still wearing her undergarments. Maybe things hadn't gotten as heated as she remembered. Now she just had to find the rest of her clothes.

Again, she stopped, this time because it had occurred to her that she still did not know the identity of the girl she had been with, nor did she know what had become of her after they were together.

Unless...

Slowly, ever so slowly, Santana turned her head to look at the space on the bed beside her. Sure enough, there was another form resting there. Her eyes traveled up the sheets until they saw the other person's hair, and then she froze. The girl was blonde.

No. No, no, no, no, no.

The slumbering teen moaned softly and rolled over onto her back. The curtain of her hair slipped to one side and Santana could finally see her face. It was Quinn.

"Holy shit!" Santana swore colorfully, nearly falling backward out of the bed as she scrambled to get away from the possibly naked former Cheerios captain.

Then she clamped a hand over her mouth and waited to see if her exclamation would wake the girl. Thankfully, it did not. As quietly as she could, Santana eased herself out of the bed and picked her clothes off the floor. She sucked air through gritted teeth as the cold fabric made contact with her skin, but she couldn't bear to be so exposed a moment longer. Not with her here. Even if it was nothing she hadn't already seen before.

Santana shuddered involuntarily and wrapped her arms protectively around her sides. She ran her thumbs over the backs of her hands, trying to soothe herself as she struggled to focus and think. Maybe, if she was having such a hard time remembering how events transpired, Quinn would remember even less. If she was extraordinarily lucky, perhaps her friend wouldn't remember the night at all.

The question was: Now what? Did she stay and wait to find out how much the other girl had retained? Could she pretend that she had crashed in a completely different room after the party and just happened to find Quinn in this bed while wandering around in the morning? Then there was that other thought, the one she tried to push away the moment it crept into her head, but it would not be silenced: What did this make her? Brittany had always been her one exception, the only girl she had ever allowed to know her intimately. But if what she thought may have happened with her other companion the previous evening actually did... What then?

Quinn murmured in her sleep and Santana made a snap decision. Without batting an eyelash, she darted out the door and closed it tightly behind her, leaving the other teen inside. Her heart was hammering so hard that its thumping reached her eardrums and she was having a little trouble breathing properly. However, at least she had escaped that room and all the infernal questions it gave rise to in her mind.