Hey guys! Ashley here. So this chapter has borderline smut in it, and it's the first time I'm doing this sort of stuff so please don't make fun of me! Enjoy! :)

"Do we seriously have to watch this?" I asked, a bit annoyed at the film we were watching.

It was movie night in the Lopierce household, and we did what teenagers would usually do and sat on the couch together with the biggest bowl of popcorn possible. Of course, we sat as close together as possible since the best part of a movie night was what happened after the movie.

Brittany giggled, knowing exactly about how annoyed I was with her film choice. She knew I didn't like the film, but she chose it anyway. She liked to be spiteful with me, and in a way I loved it but I also hated it at the same time.

"What's wrong with The Notebook?" she asked me.

I let out a sigh. "It sucks. And it's completely predictable."

"How? I didn't think there was anything predictable about the two of them dying in the end."

Dying. That was not a term I was comfortable with right now. It'd been days since the nosebleed incident, and I'd been waiting in anguish for the results of those tests. Every time the phone rang, I died. What were those test results going to say? I didn't want to think of the worst that could happen, but I couldn't help it. If Brittany turned out to be sick, I wasn't sure what I would do.

"It's totally gay, and that's coming from a gay person," I muttered, and Brittany laughed. "Titanic at least made more sense."

She gasped in surprise. "What? How could you say that! Jack dying was the worst thing ever!"

I shook my head. "Yeah but it was the message after the movie. That Rose never…" That Rose never stopped loving Jack even though he was long gone. Oh God, my mind was invaded with dark thoughts at the moment. What if Brittany and I were living Titanic? No, no those tests were going to come out negative. I had to stop being so damn pessimistic. It wasn't good for my health. Yet my eyes started watering at just the thought of losing Brittany.

Brittany could tell what I was thinking, and she rested her head on my shoulder.

"Mrs. Lopierce, what did I say about negative thinking?" she whispered.

I bit my lip and fought back the tears, the salt burning my eyeballs. No, I couldn't cry in front of her, I didn't want her to see me like this. I was just very emotional and traumatized from what happened in our kitchen a few days ago. This just made me think pessimistically. She was going to be okay. We were going to be okay.

I cleared my throat before speaking. "Sorry, other Mrs. Lopierce." I turned my head and gently kissed her scalp. I didn't deserve such a wonderful wife, especially not after the shit we'd been through. But that term "soul mates"? You just know when you've met your soul mate. I don't know how to describe it. But I knew that Brittany was my other half.

"Now shut up and watch the damn movie," Brittany teased as she lifted up the remote and pressed "play". I let out a small chuckle and shut up for the rest of the movie, obeying the one woman that was allowed to tell me what to do.

Finally, the damn movie was over. But I had a weeping blonde on my shoulder. What the hell was with this movie and making every girl on the planet drown in their tears? Sure, the ending was sad, but so what? I never understood the hype with this movie. And the worst part is that it made Brittany cry every time. Nothing pained my heart more than a crying Brittany.

"Babe?" I called to her, lifting up my shoulder a bit to nudge her. She removed her head from my shoulder and looked at me. I frowned at the sight of her adorable nose being all red and stuffy, and her eyes pink and swollen. Tears kept rolling down her cheeks, and by instinct I brought my hand up to her face and wiped them away. It was just a movie, after all.

She didn't answer me, instead continuing to cry. I stared into her gems, the gems that had not sparkled in days. Why hadn't they sparkled? They'd been dead ever since the kitchen incident. It scared me. Was it a sign? No, no perhaps it was just me. She wasn't sick. No.

I leaned in and softly kissed her lips, which tasted like sorrowful tears, and it took her some time to kiss me back. The kiss was slow, sensual – not my favorite type but it was quite delicious nonetheless.

It was Brittany who made the first move in making it more passionate. She placed her hand on my left breast – on purpose, clearly – and pushed me down so I was lying on my back and she was on top of me. My fingers slithered into her golden locks, hanging on tight and never letting go. She liked having her hair in my hands, and she especially found it sexy when I pulled it.

My womanhood was on fire right about now, and I began to feel moisture down there. Shit, I was going to stain my brand new purple booty shorts. Ah well, at least it came out in the wash, I would've been fucked if I was a guy. As soon as Brittany started to slowly grind up against me, though, I wasn't too sure. Was it possible to get so wet that it couldn't come out of your clothes?

I moaned into Brittany's mouth, and this just drove her to grind even harder. And, to make it even worse for my poor sex, she surprised me by slipping her tongue into my mouth in the middle of a transition between kisses. I was totally fine with it though, and my tongue accepted her dancing invitation and dancing along. The Niagara Falls was totally happening down in my pants, and we hadn't even gotten to the good part yet.

"Britt," I moaned out. No, it was time for her to suffer just like me.

I pulled her hair, hard and firm just how she liked it, and I was thanked by a moan against my lips. It wasn't enough though, she continued to tease me by speeding up the grinding. I was going to die at this point, holy shit. Brittany may have been a simple girl, but when it came to sex she knew exactly what she was doing.

Her lips finally ripped away from mine, and she placed her tongue on my cheek, moving down to my neck. I was breathing heavily at this point, and my sex was aching for release. When I thought she was just going to stop at my neck, she suddenly adjusted herself so her head was by my stomach, leaving me to let go of her hair, and she lifted up my tank top and attack my abdomen with her tongue. As she was having a field down there, I was up here panting and trying to not die from all these pleasurable feelings I was having right now.

It was always more enjoyable when Brittany was on top. There were times where I liked to be on top, but I mostly enjoyed receiving rather than given since you felt more pleasure that way. But it was also torture being on the receiving end because you just wanted to get to the big explosion so badly. And Brittany was being super cruel right now.

"B..Bri…" I was panting so much I couldn't even speak without wanting to explode. Brittany knew what I was trying to say though, and I felt her tug at the stretchy band of my shorts. Yes, I told her mentally. Do it.

But she was such a damn cocktease. Instead of sticking her hand in there and helping me out, she placed her hand right there on my womanhood, with my stupid fucking shorts in the way, and began to rub it. I let out a louder moan this time, and I was actually in pain with how much of a tease she was being. She must've felt how moist that area of my shorts were, and that just gave her drive to be a little more aggressive in her rubbing. Oh God, I couldn't take it anymore.

"Stop," I gasped. "Stop being a fucking cocktease!"

She giggled, and she moved up so her face was just a couple of inches away from me. I looked at her, right into those beautiful gems. I almost gasped – was that sparkle I saw? No, it wasn't sparkles. Her eyes looked brighter, but they didn't sparkle like they normally did. They were more alive, but they were still dead. What was it going to take to get those sparkles back?

"Anything you say, Mrs. Lopierce," she cooed. She placed her finger on my lips to silence me, and then slowly trailed it down to my shorts. My lungs were going to explode from all the heavy breathing, they were being crushed by ecstasy.

I wanted to tell her to get the fuck on with it, to just spare me the torture. My womanhood was aching so much I felt like it was going to shut down and never be turned on again. The other Mrs. Lopierce needed to get on with it. Now.

And she did. She at long last slipped her hand into my shorts, under the underwear, and I felt her warm skinny fingers come right home to mama. All it took was one rub to have me screaming –

But then the phone rang.

Wait, the phone fucking ran. Shit, shit what if that was Mike?

I didn't mean to be aggressive, but I had no choice but to push Brittany off of me and run for the phone. Thankfully she only felt back into the other side of the couch, because I wouldn't felt like shit.

And damn it, my clit was seriously aching with dissatisfaction as I ran. What horrible timing.

I yanked the phone receiver and brought it up to my ear, my heart beating at an abnormal speed. Was it Mike? Who was it? Because if it wasn't Mike I was going to bash their damn head in for interrupting everything.

"Hello?"

"Hey Santana," said the voice a familiar Asian doctor.

"Mike! I've been waiting for you to call all week. How did the tests go? Is she alright?"

There was hesitation in an answer, and my heart skipped a beat. "I'm actually outside of your house. Is it cool if I just come in and talk to you about it?"

No. That didn't sound good at all.

My eyes were already starting to water, and I hadn't even received the news yet. And the way Mike was talking – he sounded sad, mournful almost. No, this wasn't happening. Maybe he was just joking around.

"Yeah, sure," I sighed out.

"It's stage two pancreatic cancer."

Don't joke Mike. Jokes like that aren't funny.

The room was spinning, slowly, nauseously. I felt Brittany's hand intertwined with my own, but she felt so far. I could feel my heart suffocating, I could feel it slowly dying. This wasn't happening. This was some fucked up dream. A nightmare. I was sitting on a couch? Yeah, I was sitting on my couch. The couch that I was so close to having sex on with my wife. My wife who had…

Pancreatic cancer? That was what Patrick Swayze had. Look how he turned out.

This wasn't happening. No way.

I felt dizzy, I felt like I would black out at any moment. Was I going to faint? My head certainly felt lighter. No wait, I couldn't black out yet. I needed to see Brittany. I needed to see my soul mate. Slowly my head turned to her, and she was already looking at me.

Her eyes were swollen, just how they were after we watched that stupid movie.

Her gems still didn't sparkle. Why the fuck did they refuse to sparkle? They looked more dead than ever. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. Damn it. My eyes refused to release my own tears. They hide in my ducts like damned cowards.

I opened my mouth to say something to her, anything, but nothing came out. How the hell was I supposed to comfort her? I couldn't even comfort myself!

Brittany knew she had to be the stronger one in this, even though she was the one with the damn cancer. She looked away from me and at Mike, taking a deep breath to calm herself before speaking.

"What can we do Mike?"

Mike bit his lip. Something told me he wanted to cry to, but being trained to not show any emotions in front of patients prevented him from doing it.

"First, since the cancer's spread to the organs around your pancreas, we have to perform an operation."

Just the fact she had cancer. What the fuck.

"And then?" Brittany asked.

Mike closed his eyes, unable to bear looking at Brittany while saying what he was about to say next.

"All that's left after that is chemotherapy."

"And how will that help?"

He gained the courage to look at Brittany once more. "It'll slow down the process of the cancer completely taking over you."

No.

No.

I couldn't hear anymore. I ripped my hand away from Brittany's and stormed out of the living room. My eyes finally decided to released tears, and they came by the barrel. I ran up the stairs, then down the hall to our bedroom. I couldn't deal with this. None of this was fucking real.

I barged into our bedroom, slamming the door hard behind me, and I flew onto my bed, allowing myself to sob loudly into my sheets. My heart was bleeding, and it was going to continue bleeding until Brittany's heart stopped beating. This wasn't happening. Hah, no, no I was just dreaming, that's it.

God wasn't taking away my soul mate. That would just be cruel. I knew that I was a bitch, but if God wanted to get back at me he would've made me get the cancer, right? Brittany wasn't sick. This was just a warning to be a nicer person. Right?

So hard I tried to convince myself. So fucking hard. But I continued to sob.

I kept sobbing until I slowly began to black out and entered a world of painful darkness.