A/N

Just watched the Britney 2.0 and my heart is hurting for Brittany. A sad Brittany is just heart breaking. I literally cried watching the last scene where she's on her bed staring at the computer. It was so sad. I know it's not Santana's fault totally and the "I love you britt" was kinda sweet but still hating her a little. Can't help it. I'm an unreasonable Hemo fan. And I don't like seeing her sad. Anyway so I thought I'll update my story and try to get some happy Brittana feelings. Anyway I'm done rambling. Hope you guys enjoy. R&R

"Thank you." Brittany took the stereo stack from him.

"Now, good-bye Artie, Get lost" she said, and tried to shut the door with her hip.

Artie blocked it with his foot. "What that's it? C'mon baby? No, Artie, sweetheart, honey, baby, I missed you? No, God, it's good to see you? No, come on in and take off all your clothes?"

"No. Just get lost" Brittany was still trying to close the door.

"I'm trying to move in a new direction Artie, not backtrack. So kindly just go away." She gave up on the door and went to put the stereo down, and when she turned around, he was in the apartment, looking winsome and apologetic and truly annoying.

"I want to come back, Brittany, I wanna be with you. Please give me another chance babe" he said with all the fake sincerity he was capable of.

What an ass, and I had a relationship with this loser? Brittany mentally kicked herself and then moved on. "I don't want you back, Artie. My stereo is still welcome, of course, but you're not. Go away."

"You're a hard woman, Brittany." Artie grinned at her and kicked the door closed behind him. "That's one of the million things I loved about you." He opened his arms to her. "Come on babe, you don't mean it."

"Sure, I do." Brittany detoured around him and opened the door again. "Just get out. I'm not at all interested."

Artie leaned toward her, obviously ready to deal the ace up his sleeve. "Brittany, the band cut a record. I'm going to be rich." He stood back to enjoy her reaction.

Brittany shook her head. "I can't afford you until you're rich. Get out."

Artie was, as always, a slow learner. And of course there was that hearing problem. "C'mon, just a place to stay for a while, love."

"No. Get out."

"Brittany, baby. Did you forget this?" He reached for her and wrapped his arms around her and kissed her neck while she shrank away.

"Let go." Brittany fell into the hall with him as she tried to squirm out of his grasp. Artie was no rapist, but he was a twit and there was a limit to how much of this she was going to put up with. She kneed him hard on the balls, and as he gasped, she heard the front door open.

"Help!" she called out, hoping Artie would give up since they had an audience. Artie didn't have time. Seconds later he was sprawled across the hall. Brittany straightened her sweater and turned to her rescuer. "Thank you. He wasn't actually—" She gasped softly and her voice faded away when she noticed the person that saved her.

Santana loomed over Brittany, supporting herself with one hand on her doorframe as she tried to bring order and logic into the blonde's life again. Santana reached out her hand and pulled the blonde up and hugged her tightly. The three Scotches she'd had on the plane to get her nerve up had joined the drink that Grey had given her, and it had given her a lot of courage and made it easier to deal with the feelings she had for the blonde. She inhaled Brittany's unique scent before swiftly letting the blonde go and glaring at the man sprawled on the floor.

"Britt never open your door to anyone you don't know."

"She knows me," the creep who'd attacked her said from the floor. "I'm her boyfriend. Who the hell are you?"

Her boyfriend? Santana focused on him. Oh, right. The musician. Adam or Artie or something. Well, he was history.

"I'm her wife." Santana turned and loomed over him too. "Now go away or I'll break your fucking fingers."

"You got married?" Artie stared at Brittany, indignant. "I was only gone eight months."

"But you never wrote to me Artie," Brittany pointed out. "So I took the next one who asked. She's a hit woman. She makes sure that the people who bother me disappear. In fact—"

Santana watched the blonde get into her story. She saw the way Brittany's eyes lit up while making up the story. She noticed how beautiful the blonde looked in her plain, simple clothing. She felt an unbearable urge to kiss the girl. It made her feel nostalgic and dizzy, and she put a hand back on the wall to steady herself.

Brittany's eyes widened and she picked up speed. "She knows my brother in New Jersey. So you have to go now." She took Santana's hand and interlaced their fingers. Santana felt a rush of warmth coursing through her body at the blonde's touch. She got lost in her thoughts while the blonde tugged her in through the doorway.

"You don't have a brother in New Jersey Britt." Artie picked himself up from the floor. "You're an only child from Tennessee."

Brittany was supporting a lot of Santana's weight now; the blonde was stronger than she'd thought. "He's adopted. Thanks again for the stereo. Now, go away or… my wife will hurt you." She looked up at Santana.

"Yeah." Santana nodded slowly. "I will do that. Go away and never come back or I will fucking kill you"

"Come on, Baby." Brittany nudged her with her hip, and the latina stumbled into the apartment so she could slam the door behind them.

"What the hell was he doing here B?" Santana squinted at her.

"Apparently he wants me back." Brittany put her hands on her hips. She still had great hips. Santana stared and unconsciously licked her lips.

"I'm all kinds of awesome and unforgettable. What are you doing here? I thought you moved."

Oh, hell, now she had to explain things. "I did. Look, do you have any coffee? I don't feel very well."

Brittany hesitated and then said, "Sure," and moved toward the kitchen while the latina watched her, thinking unsafe thoughts.

This is a very bad idea, Santana told herself, and then she followed Brittany. Brittany was out of coffee, but there was some left over from the day before in the pot, so she microwaved it, watching the latina out of the corner of her eye while she worked. She was as strong and solid as she remembered. And still beautiful and sexy yet so safe. Oh, damn. She took the cup from the microwave when it dinged and put it in front of the smaller girl.

Santana drank from it and made a face.

"Sorry, that's all I have."

"No, no, it's fine B." Santana focused on her, and her face looked funny. Then she took a deep breath, flaring her nostrils, and looked better.

Tense, Brittany thought.

"B you remember the Cinderella deal?" Brittany nodded and Santana said, "I need a wife."

Brittany's heart kicked up speed, She felt her breath getting caught in her throat. She could feel the butterflies fluttering in her stomach and she wondered if the latina could hear the rapid beat of her heart. But she kept her face calm. "That's what you needed before San."

"No." Santana shook her head, trying to keep the want out of her voice, and the momentum kept her shaking seconds longer than necessary. "Before I needed a fake fiancé. Now Harper wants me to get married in his garden. He wants me to marry you."

Brittany sat down. Marriage. For a moment she'd almost thought her story was going to come true, that the latina was going to invite her back to be a fake fiancé for a while, but this was the real thing, and standing up in front of a minister and lying to God was not a possibility.

"Didn't you tell him we had irreconcilable differences?"

"Yeah. He told me to reconcile them." Santana waved that away. "Forget that." Santana leaned forward and presented her sentences carefully to the blonde. "The house I've got has four bedrooms. You could set up your studio in one and paint all day. I'll support you. All you have to do is show up at campus functions and be a wife. That's all. You don't have to do anything else in Prescott that you're not doing here." She frowned over what she'd said, nodded to herself, pulled her cup back, drank some more coffee, and winced. "I'll make the coffee though."

Brittany tried to think rationally. It wasn't her strong point at the best of times, and it was even worse with Santana sitting across from her in the all too attractive flesh, so she concentrated on the basics. "Ok let me get this straight. Essentially, you want me to marry you for your money. As God is your witness, if I marry you, I'll never be hungry again?"

Santana thought about it. "That pretty much covers it." No, it didn't. You probably haven't noticed, but I have this thing for your body, I'd like it very much if we can have all aspects of the marriage. Don't go there Lopez. Behave.

Brittany took a deep breath. "What about sex?"

Santana blinked at her. Can she read minds? Brittany's golden hair tumbled over her shoulders and all Santana wanted to do was tangle her fingers in it and pull Brittany toward her and kiss her senselessly. That was a bad idea, which was a shame because it had tremendous appeal. "I told you, you don't have to do anything in Prescott that you're not doing here." Unless you want to, she thought, looking at her piercing blue eyes shining at her. Coz I really want to B.

Brittany folded her arms and leaned back, and it was just Santana's bad luck that she folded them under her breasts, and there went her mind again. "What are you going to do for sex?" she asked the latina.

Probably jerk off thinking of you. Fuck. Shut up. Santana needed a different topic fast. "That's my problem, and I'll solve it. Don't worry about it."

"You'd cheat on me? What would Harper say?"

Santana winced at the thought. She'd had enough opportunities to cheat on the blonde for the past few days that she was in Prescott but for some reason she found it incredibly hard to think of anyone else. She would never cheat on Brittany but even she did, she knew that Harper wasn't the kind of a man that would mind it.

"He'd probably say 'Way to go, Lopez.' College professors are not known for their fidelity B."

Brittany felt a pang of hurt in her heart when Santana didn't decline that she won't cheat. She took a deep breath and she stuck out her chin at the latina, and immediately Santana's gaze travelled down the curve of her throat.

"Ok so what about me?" she asked.

"You? Sex?" Santana hadn't thought about her having an affair. Or, rather she had thought about it, but she had thought about Brittany with her. Some other person? I'll definitely break someone's fingers if that happens. Santana didn't like it, she didn't want Brittany to be with anyone else and for the first time she felt something she had never felt with any woman before. Jealousy. But she couldn't afford to scare the blonde off. So she shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't care what or who you do, but just be discreet."

"Sure, that's always been one of my specialties." She took a deep breath. "You know San, I'm not sure I wouldn't like to pretend to be married for a while. I can't do it for real, the vow would be a lie to God, but I think I could pretend. It sounds sort of… secure."

Santana nodded, nudging her down the road to Prescott. "Security I can give you. And we could get married by a judge. No God in the ceremony at all."

She thought about it. "When's midnight?"

"Midnight?" Santana frowned.

"You know. When Cinderella turns back into a pumpkin. Midnight. When we stop being married."

"Oh." Santana hadn't thought far enough ahead to worry about an end. And honestly she wasn't sure If she wanted an end. "I don't know."

Brittany pursed her lips. Santana couldn't stop staring at the blonde's lips. She had great lips. wonder what it would feel like? They look so soft and delicious. What's wrong with you Lopez. Forget her lips.

"A year? Lots of marriages hit the skids after a year. Or maybe the end of the school year. June. That's ten months. I'll flounce off at the end of June and leave you to be consoled by your adoring students and Little Gertrude."

"Ten months is fine. Whatever." Santana was having trouble focusing again. "So will you do it?" Brittany looked into the latina's eyes and Santana could feel herself getting lost in Brittany's baby blues. She had never stared in to a woman's eyes and she had always felt uncomfortable even thinking about it. But gazing in to Brittany's eyes gave her a sense of peace and calm. Santana suddenly straightened and patted her jacket pocket. "Wait a minute. Let me do this right." She pulled out the ring they'd used the last time they were in Prescott and got down on one knee and offered it to the blonde, and for some reason, her hand shook. Santana took a deep breath. "Brittany, will you marry me?"

Brittany felt her throat catch as she looked at her old ring, the tiny sapphire blinking in the lamplight. It was pretty and sweet, the kind of ring the Brittany they made up would love. Santana had been right to insist on it. Brittany Pierce still liked the chased silver and free-form pearls, but future Mrs. Brittany Pierce-Lopez would want this ring. If she put it back on, she'd be future Mrs. Brittany Pierce-Lopez again; Santana obviously thought she still was. If Brittany went along with it, she could have everything she wanted and needed.

I guess it's time for a change, she told herself. Stop being such a coward. She nodded at Santana and said "Yes," and Santana exhaled looking genuinely happy and slipped the ring on her finger, fumbling a little because her hands were shaking and so were Brittany's.

Oh, my God, she thought the moment she felt her hand in the latina's. What am I doing?

Santana held both of Brittany's hands in hers as they both stared at the ring on Brittany's finger. She slowly lifted her gaze away from the ring and locked eyes with the blonde once again. They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity and Brittany slowly kneeled down next to the latina. Brittany looked at Santana's lips and then licked her own before looking back at the latina's eyes. Santana leaned a fraction of an inch closer to the blonde. Just as Brittany was about to lean in LT let out a loud groan breaking the two women out of their trance. Santana stared at the blonde for a second more before smiling softly and standing up and pulling the blonde up with her.

"Ok then let's get started," and Brittany pulled her hand back.

"Started on what?"

"Calling movers," Santana said. "Packing your clothes." She frowned slightly as she mentioned Brittany's clothes.

"We've got to get back to Prescott tonight B. Our return flight leaves at seven."

Brittany's jaw dropped. "Tonight?"

"Why wait?"

Brittany looked around the apartment she'd had for eight years. She'd loved it, but now it was too small, like her old life. Just like in the fairy tale: the prince had come along and swept her out of the ashes, and it would ruin the story if they stopped to pack or cancel the phone. "All right." She stood up. "All right, then. Let's go."

She watched bemused as Santana called the movers, who agreed to come on Wednesday. Then she called Quinn, who laughed when she told her she was going to Prescott and promised to take the day off from school to watch the movers, especially when they were packing Brittany's stained glass lamp. Santana left to buy a travel case for the cats, and when she got back, Brittany had her clothes packed and was sitting on the boxes, feeling a little lost.

Santana stood in front of her, looking efficient and in charge and that didn't help her qualms any.

"Our return flight is in two hours," the latina told her. "I picked up tranquilizers for the cats. See if you can find Annie." Santana looked at LT sprawled out on the floor, asleep in the sun. "I have enough for two in case LT regains consciousness."

"Forget LT, give them to me," Brittany said.

Brittany was so stunned when she saw Santana's house that she sat down on the curb to catch her breath. It was her house, gleaming yellow in the twilight just the way she'd imagined it. Less than twelve hours earlier she'd been stuck in her old story, and now she'd been given everything she wanted for her new one. It seemed too good to be true, but there was the house in front of her. Santana paid the cab driver and then turned and saw her on the curb.

"What the hell are you doing B?"

"It's perfect San," she told the latina.

"Good, I'm glad" Santana smiled at her. "Now get up off the curb before the neighbours think you're crazy."

Brittany pouted and thought about telling the latina where she could put the neighbours but didn't. This is Santana's story, she reminded herself as she stood up. Then she looked at the house again, so beautiful in the autumn evening. There was no reason she couldn't make Santana's story part of hers, at least the house part. In a way it already was; Santana had painted it yellow for her.

But after the tour of the house, she knew it was still Santana's story and still the latina's house. True, the house did have glowing amber wood floors and an ornate mantel and an oak staircase, but every single wall was painted stark white.

She looked at Santana in despair. "Seriously San? White?"

Santana frowned at her, defensive. "What? It looks clean. And neat."

Neat. Something she obviously wasn't. The tension of the past day made her temper spurt. "Are you kidding? We could operate in here. I can't live in a hospital room, Santana. And, my God, this furniture, all this leather and metal stuff. I can't live like this."

Santana sat down, looking exhausted and pulled the cat carrier toward her. "So you can mix in some of your stuff when the movers send it." Santana opened the door to the cat carrier and looked inside.

"Hello?"

"They're still asleep." Brittany looked around at the black leather and chrome. "I don't think our furniture is going to mix."

"Let's cross that bridge when we come to it B." Santana picked up one of her boxes and started upstairs. "The house is the least of our problems."

Brittany looked around at the white walls and ugly furniture. "No, it isn't," she said. Whether the latina liked it or not, her furniture was going to have to go and Brittany's would have to come in. She felt her spirits rise at the thought.

Santana would like it once she saw Brittany's things in the house. Her stuff was old-fashioned and warm, just like the house. Santana would love it once she saw it. She'd say, "Brittany, it's amazing what colour can do for a house. Thank you." And she'd smile and the latina would smile and the cats would curl up in the windows and they'd live happily ever after.

Feeling much better, Brittany picked up a box and followed Santana upstairs.

Once she'd helped Brittany unpack and she'd hung her clothes in the empty bedroom across the hall from Santana's, she explored the house, making plans, mentally moving her furniture in and burning Santana's. The moon was high by the time she climbed the stairs again, and Santana was asleep in the only bed.

"Hey." She poked her.

"Mmmphf."

"Hey." She poked the latina harder.

"What?"

"Shouldn't you be on the couch like a gentlewoman? It's not big enough for me. My legs are too long"

"I never said I was a gentlewoman," Santana mumbled sleepily. "This is a king size. I'm so tired I couldn't find you if I wanted you. So just go to sleep."

As a speech, it was a lot more reassuring than flattering, but she was exhausted too, so she knew how Santana felt. She went across the hall and changed into her night shirt and took her soap and toothbrush into the bathroom. By the time she was ready for bed, Santana was asleep again.

She crawled in beside the latina and fell asleep almost instantly, dreaming of gleaming wood floors with LT sprawled in the sunlight.

Santana woke up the next morning with her arm wrapped tightly around Brittany, pressed close against her back. She was wearing the same thin cotton T-shirt she wore the night they'd spent in the motel, but this time they were in the same bed. And Santana was awake in more ways than one.

Move before she wakes up perv, Santana told herself, but she didn't want to. Brittany was so soft and warm and smooth and Santana felt so good pressed up against the blonde. It took all the self-control she had not to move her hand up to the fullness of her breast and give it a light squeeze. She'd be terrific to sleep with in the winter, she thought as she moved her cheek against Brittany's hair, and inhaling her scent. Then she realized that she wouldn't be sleeping with Brittany in the winter. It made her heart hurt again and she quickly tried to push the thoughts away. She'd be terrific to sleep with anytime though, Santana thought, growing dizzy with the thought. Maybe we could…No Lopez, Stop it now. The last thing in the world she needed was to have an affair with her temporary wife. That would simply add an emotional element to an already impossible situation. No, no, no.

So why is your arm still around her? she asked herself. But before she could do anything the blonde stirred.

"Why is your arm around me?" Brittany asked sleepily.

Because you are so soft and smooth and warm. Fuck it Lopez, say something clever

"I never had a teddy bear when I was little." Santana held herself very still. "I'm compensating. Go back to sleep. This is completely asexual."

What the hell was that?

"I don't think so." Brittany yawned and stretched a little, which compounded Santana's problem. "Is that a gun in your pajamas, or are you just really happy to wake up with me?"

Shit

Santana quickly rolled away from her, trying to hide her front and got up to get dressed. "That's your imagination Brittany."

"Right, whatever you say San" she said, and fell back asleep.

She had to be the calmest woman in the world. Either that or she trusted Santana completely. That was depressing somehow. Santana stared at the blonde for a moment more and went to take a cold shower.

After Santana left, Brittany got up and took a cold shower.

Stop thinking about her like that Brittany. She told herself as she shuddered under the icy water. Stop thinking about how good she felt wrapped around you. Stop thinking about how good all that hardness would have felt moving inside you.

She felt hot in spite of the cold water. Stop it Brittany. Yeah she's hot and sexy as hell but she's not the kind of person you wanna get involved with. Just marry her and forget her.

Right.