Glee and all related characters and places are owned by Fox - I just make them dance for my own amusement.

By my calculations, this fic has the highest review-per-chapter ratio of any fic I've ever written. Have I ever mentioned that you guys are awesome?

Lots of people wanting to know more about Brittany's background and just why she's decided to help Santana out. Not really explained in this chapter, but it's definitely something that will be addressed. One thing people familiar with my fics will know is that I like to plant the seeds of future plot points very early.

~xxx~

By the end of the week, it was hard not to think of it as a routine. Santana told herself again and again that it was only temporary; that it had been going on for a grand total of four days, and would likely end as soon as the bad weather subsided. And yet, she couldn't help but hope the rain never stopped. Sure, their rides were mostly awkward conversation or complete silence, but the time she had spent with Brittany was something she was going to treasure for a long time to come.

Still, she was somewhat baffled by the blonde's motives; just why was she helping Santana out like this? How had she known where her house was? In all likelihood, there were probably perfectly reasonable explanations for everything. Not that that stopped Santana from fantasising that Brittany actually wanted to spend time with her. It was a curious situation, to be sure – the most respected girl in school giving secret rides to a complete nobody. But after much contemplation, Santana decided that she didn't really care – she was just grateful she had finally been given the chance to talk to her crush for such extended periods of time.

Mind you, she was pretty sure it was developing into more than a crush. If watching Brittany Pierce from afar was enough to get Santana interested, then being driven to school by her – in her own car, no less – had definitely stirred something far stronger. And if anything, it scared her. Santana hadn't even kissed another person, let alone gone further. And yet, every night since that rainy Tuesday, her mind had been filled with images of the blonde – and very few of them were what you would call innocent. It was even worse during school, having to stop herself greeting Brittany, or even simply smiling, when she saw the blonde in the corridors. Naturally, Brittany still didn't even acknowledge her, and Santana couldn't really blame her; who would want to be seen with her, after all? She knew she should be hurt, or insulted, but if anything she found it somewhat exciting – this was a secret; their secret. She doubted Brittany thought of it in such a way, but having such an overactive imagination, Santana found it hard to see it any other way.

She had checked the weather forecast, and to her dismay, it was set to improve greatly over the weekend; the following week would be nothing but clear blue skies. It was amazing how much could change in a week, and Santana had been forced to feign happiness when her parents had joked about her no longer having to walk to school in the rain. Far from welcoming the impending change in weather, she felt only anxiety that it would mark the end of her brief time with Brittany.

On Friday evening, she had been hoping for some sort of comment when Brittany dropped her off; any sign that the blonde intended to continue the routine they had built over the week. But to Santana's dismay, Brittany's farewell was no different from the previous three days – a casual wave and a nod, before driving off without a word. That was probably it then, Santana mused; in years to come, she would look back on this week as a bizarre occurrence, where she had finally been able to speak to her high school crush, and had been utterly passive and made no move to form an actual friendship with the girl. Even as she shut the front door behind her, she felt nothing but regret for having remained so quiet during their rides. That said, Brittany probably would have ditched her if she had done nothing but babble; Santana was well aware that she had a tendency to ramble when she got going.

On Sunday, Sam and Artie came over. It was a welcome return to normality for Santana, and was definitely an improvement over Saturday, where she had spent most of the day pacing her room, replaying her various brief conversations with Brittany in her head. Of course, her two friends were still oblivious to Santana's time with Brittany, but it hadn't stopped them from noticing something was up. They were sat in the living room of Santana's house when Sam finally spoke up.

"You okay?" Sam had asked eventually. Santana glanced away from the game they were playing, frowning slightly.

"Yeah, why?" she asked. Internally, she was panicking that her façade of a good mood hadn't been convincing enough.

"You've been quiet all week," Artie chimed in. "We've all noticed, you know."

"It's the slushies, isn't it?" Sam continued. "They've been really going after you this week, huh?"

"Something like that," Santana shrugged, relieved that she had a valid excuse. Not that it was exactly untrue; she was sick to death of constantly wiping the freezing mess from her face.

"You should go to Principal Figgins," Sam suggested, but Artie just scoffed and shook his head.

"Like that would help," he muttered. "Remember last time we tried that? All of us went at the same time, and he just rattled off the whole 'slushies aren't recognised as weapons' crap."

"It couldn't hurt to try again," Santana said quietly, turning back to the television.

"You know who we need?" Artie said firmly. "Brittany Pierce."

Santana all but smashed the 'pause' button on her controller.

"What?" she and Sam said in unison. Sam was probably just surprised, but Santana was already panicking again – did Artie know they had talked? Did he think she had some sort of connection to Brittany?

"Well come on," Artie said incredulously. "She's the only person all those dicks are afraid of, right? Maybe we could pay her off or something?"

"Pay her off for what?" Sam asked. "To be our bodyguard? Not gonna happen."

"Why would Brittany want to help us?" Santana asked, hoping the bitter note in her voice was only imagined. "She doesn't even acknowledge we exist."

"It's just an idea," Artie replied with a shrug. "Don't tell me you want to spend your entire senior year getting slushy facials every five minutes?"

"Don't be stupid," Sam sighed.

"Of course we don't, but that's just crazy," Santana said. "Besides, what makes you think Brittany would even consider it?"

"The last time I tried to talk to Brittany Pierce," Sam began, sounding rather embarrassed. "She told me to fuck off and stop 'wanking over that blue chick from Avatar.'"

Santana supressed a laugh; that was definitely the sort of thing Brittany would say. She wasn't sure what was more amusing though; that Brittany had said it, or that that Sam seemed so scandalised that Brittany didn't know Neytiri's name.

"I guess you're right," Artie said, shaking his head. "Whatever, she's still awesome."

"Now that, we can agree on," Sam said enthusiastically. "Now, we fight this boss or what?"

Santana nodded and unpaused the game, remaining silent. She had no doubt that Artie's 'plan' was foolish, and yet a small part of her couldn't help but picture Brittany sticking up for her. With a small smile, she returned her attention to the game. It would never happen, but it was nice to dream.

~xxx~

As predicted, Brittany was a no-show on Monday morning. Santana had even stood at the foot of the path leading from her door to the sidewalk for a few minutes, eagerly turning her head every time she heard a car. But no, Brittany wasn't coming. At least the weather had brightened, making her walk to school rather pleasant. There was a gentle breeze, preventing things from getting too hot. All in all, it was a beautiful day. And yet, just as it had been on Friday, Santana couldn't help but wish the rain had continued. Though she had to laugh at something her mother had said that morning – it was a miracle she had managed to survive the week without coming down with a cold - if only she knew the real reason.

The day passed as usual until lunch, following which, Santana had Biology.

With Brittany.

The brunette's heart was in her throat as she entered the room and took her seat. Sure enough, a few minutes later, Brittany entered and found her own usual spot near the back. Every table seated two students, but naturally the blonde sat alone. The class progressed as expected, but Santana found herself only half paying attention. She couldn't help but shake the feeling that Brittany was watching her, though she wasn't sure if it was simply wishful thinking. About halfway through the class, by which time they were all working on assignments, an idea occurred to her. She wasn't quite sure what possessed her to do it, but she just had to see how Brittany would react.

Getting to her feet, the brunette made her way to Brittany's table. Slowly, the taller girl looked up and raised an eyebrow.

"Can I borrow this?" Santana asked, pointing to the eraser sat beside the blonde's arm. She could have slapped herself for such a pathetic request, but she was too busy watching those blue eyes. Without a word, Brittany flicked the object across the table, before returning to her work.

Santana mumbled thanks and returned to her seat. Brittany probably thought she was a complete freak; that she was trying to trick her into acknowledging their familiarity or something.

'Damn, Lopez' that infuriating voice in her head scoffed. 'You realise she's going to think you're a total creeper now, right?'

For the rest of the class, Santana kept her head down, asking herself again and again why she had even bothered. Was it some sad attempt at reminding Brittany she existed? Feeling utterly miserable, she packed her bag as fast as she could when the bell rang, all but running from the class.

~xxx~

By the end of the day, Santana was tired. Not physically, but mentally; her mind was abuzz with yet more thoughts about Brittany, and she wondered whether this was even healthy anymore. She was crushing on a girl that had as good as told her they couldn't be friends. Brittany was at the top, Santana was at the bottom; she had accepted it long ago, so why was it suddenly so hard to accept? About the only positive thing on her mind was the fact that somehow, she had escaped her usual 'start of the week slushy attack'.

Or at least, she thought she had.

Just as she was crossing the parking lot, trying her best to enjoy the warm afternoon sun, things suddenly became very cold.

"Whoops!" a familiar voice cackled. Santana stopped dead, already feeling the freezing slushie running down her neck. As she stood, Quinn Fabray entered her peripheral vision, casually walking past with an empty 'Big Quench' cup in her hand. "Sorry, Lopez. Thought you were a trashcan again."

Santana could only watch as a large car pulled into view, into which Quinn quickly disappeared. From within, the brunette could hear Quinn's friends laughing, having obviously seen everything. As the car sped off, Santana remained rooted to the spot, the all too familiar prickle of tears stinging her eyes. She couldn't go home like this. If her parents saw her in such a state, they would take it further and Quinn Fabray would never let anyone forget that Santana Lopez 'went running to her mommy and daddy.' Sighing, she looked around to see how many other people had seen. Not having any of her clubs on Mondays, she was leaving at the same time as most of her peers. There were a few onlookers, standing awkwardly as though they didn't quite know whether they should be helping or laughing.

Well, some were just laughing.

Wanting to get out of their sight as fast as possible, Santana made a beeline for the nearest entrance to the school – through the gym. Unsurprisingly, it was a place she wasn't too familiar with, though she still had a rough idea of it's layout. Not that it even mattered – all she needed to find was the toilets. The building was cool and quiet; Santana assumed there were no after school sports events today. Thankful for the peace, she quickly made her way along the corridor, trying her hardest to ignore the sound of slushie dripping onto the polished floor. She quickly found what she was looking for, and set about the familiar routine of cleaning herself up. By now, she had it down to something of an art-form, and within minutes she was as dry as she was going to be; though she would still need a shower as soon as she got home to wash the sticky substance from her hair.

Just as she was about to leave the building, a peculiar sound reached her ears – a rather angry sounding voice.

But it wasn't simply someone talking loudly, nor was it someone in pain; if anything, it was a sound of exertion. There was a brief pause, and then she heard it again, louder this time. Santana didn't entirely trust her senses, but she couldn't help but feel as though she knew who it was. Biting her lip, she turned away from the door to the parking lot, and instead headed further down the corridor. The gym was the oldest part of the school; the main building had been renovated about ten years ago, but as far as she knew, McKinley's gymnasium dated all the way back to the 1950's. As she walked, the sound grew louder still, and she became more and more certain that the voice belonged to Brittany Pierce. But what on earth was she doing?

Judging by the short, sharp sounds she was making, the blonde was definitely performing some sort of physical activity. As Santana drew even nearer, a second sound became clearer; a rather firm 'twack' after every one of Brittany's grunts. Suddenly, a rather macabre image filled Santana's mind – Brittany stood over a helpless student, laying into them with her fists and feet. But no, that wasn't Brittany – she didn't attack people at random; what had happened to Karofsky and Azimio was their own damn fault.

Finally, Santana reached the source of the sound; a pair of double doors leading off the corridor, one of them hanging open. Careful not to lean too far, she moved as close as she dared, and peered through the gap into the room beyond. It was the main hall of the gym, bathed in golden light filtering in through it's dusty windows. As with the rest of the building, it was very old-fashioned, with wood panels everywhere – even some of the equipment seemed ancient.

And there, in the center of the gym, was Brittany. The blonde was wearing a pair of baggy grey trackpants paired with a rather worn tank top. The top itself was ripped, missing it's entire lower half. This of course meant that Brittany's whole stomach was exposed; and Santana couldn't take her eyes off of it. She knew that Brittany must be well-built, but having never seen her without her usual leather jacket and the shirts she wore beneath it, it was a completely new sight.

Well-defined abdominal muscles twisted and rippled as she moved, and with the light hitting her at just the right angle, they were so defined that they cast small shadows across her stomach. Santana's eyes moved up to the blonde's arms; something else she had never seen uncovered before. The only way she could describe them was appearing akin to tree trunks; they were absolutely huge, thick with powerful biceps that swelled as she brought her fists back. Only then did Santana return her attention to what it was Brittany was even doing – or who she was doing it with. The blonde was hitting a rather battered looking punch bag, her hands thickly bandaged. Gripping the bag to prevent it from swinging too far, was Coach Sharon Bieste. While Santana had never particularly exceled at sports, and had dropped phys ed as soon as she was able, she knew Coach Bieste to be something of a gentle giant, and they often shared smiles in the corridors.

Oh, and Bieste had been the one to fish Santana out of her first dumpster visit.

But naturally, Santana's eyes quickly moved back to Brittany. She was positive she had never seen a more impressive – or arousing – sight. The blonde's face was twisted with concentration, ignoring the beads of sweat running down her brow and chest. Had Brittany been standing still, Santana was sure she would have been able to track the small droplets as they slid into her top. And the noises she was making. The brunette knew it wasn't right to stand there staring, hidden from view by the door, but she couldn't help it. She was mesmerised by the girl before her; this unreal marriage of a beautiful face with such an imposing body. Brittany was nothing short of perfection in Santana's eyes – so strong and powerful, yet somehow graceful at the same time.

Though perhaps 'graceful' was the wrong word; Brittany's movements weren't exactly delicate, but there was a definite confidence and smoothness to them. This was clearly something she had been doing for a long time – not that it was any great surprise. Now, the reason behind Brittany's startling strength was clear, and Santana couldn't be any more awed by the other girl.

Well, more than she already was, anyway.

However, as much as she was enjoying the sight before her, Santana couldn't fight the growing feeling that she shouldn't be watching in secret like this. If she really respected Brittany, she shouldn't be as good as spying on her. Judging by the fact that Brittany was doing this alone, and not as part of some club or group, Santana could only assume it was meant to be private. And so, taking one last lingering look at Brittany – who was continuing to pummel the punch bag with increasing ferocity – Santana tore her eyes away, and slowly began making her way back to the parking lot. However, she only got a few paces before a different sound reached her ears: a cell phone ringing.

"He did what?" she heard Bieste's voice ask. "Well tell him to get his stupid butt in my office right now; I'll show him just how funny I think it is." There was a pause as the call was disconnected. "Sorry, Britt. Apparently Rick Nelson thought it'd be fun to take pot shots with a hockey puck round by the Principal's office. Figgins is still hiding under his desk."

"It's fine," Brittany replied quietly. She sounded slightly out of breath.

And breathless Brittany? Super hot.

Santana shook her head to herself and made for the door, but before she could reach it, she heard the other doors open behind her.

"Santana?" she heard Bieste ask. She turned on the spot and gave the coach a shaky smile.

"Hi, coach," Santana replied, trying her best not to sound guilty.

"What you doing in here?" Bieste asked, stepping towards her and smiling warmly. "You lost or something?"

"I…er…" Santana thought desperately for a moment, wracking her brain for any kind of excuse. "I…was looking for Brittany Pierce. I have something of hers."

"She tell you she was here?" the coach asked, sounding surprised. "Didn't think anyone knew." She shrugged, and gestured towards the doors. "Well, she's right in there. Just don't keep her too long – she gets real pissy when people interrupt her workouts."

"Okay," Santana replied with a nod. "Thanks."

"No problem," Bieste smiled, heading past her. "Now I gotta deal with the mulleted moron…"

Santana waited until the coach was out of the door, before turning back towards the gym. She could hear the now familiar sounds of Brittany striking the punch bag again, and found her throat suddenly growing very dry. Just as she had done during Biology, she had made up a reason to simply spend more time with Brittany, but with one crucial difference – this time, they were completely alone. What if the blonde took offence at being interrupted and turned her fists on Santana? Swallowing uncomfortably, the brunette steeled herself, and stepping into the gym.

For a few seconds, Brittany continued her activities, oblivious to Santana's presence. However, she was quick to spot the newcomer. The blonde stopped what she was doing, raising a hand to still the punch bag; swinging freely without Bieste to steady it. There was silence for a few moments as their eyes met. As always, Brittany's expression was unreadable. She looked Santana up and down, quirking an eyebrow just as she had done in class.

"Can I help you with something?" she asked, dabbing at her sweaty brow with the back of a bandaged hand.

"Uhh…I have your eraser," Santana replied quietly, reaching into her pants pocket and retrieving the item in question. Brittany looked at her for a moment, her eyebrows slowly rising.

"Christ, Lopez," she said incredulously. "Are you fucking serious?"

"Um…" Santana didn't know what to say; she couldn't tell if Brittany was angry, amused, or both. "I'm sorry, I…"

"Keep it," Brittany shrugged, turning away and starting to unwrap her hands. "Guess that's something else you don't have, huh?"

"What…oh, the car thing, yeah," Santana nodded. Brittany chuckled.

"Well I ain't lending you the Chevy, if that's what you're thinking," the blonde said. She turned back to Santana, regarding her in silence for a moment. She ran a hand through her tangled hair, pulling away the stands that had become stuck to her face. "You know, you're the only person apart from Bieste that knows I come here."

"I didn't mean to, I-"

"Specs, if you apologise for something one more fucking time, I think I'm actually gonna swing for you," Brittany warned. She was still smiling, but she raised a fist half-heartedly all the same. Satisfied that Santana got the message, she turned away and finished unwrapping the bandages from her hands. Remaining silent, Santana went back to watching Brittany's movements. Even when she wasn't pummelling that bag, her muscles were still prominent enough to make the brunette's mouth water.

"Hey, pass me that bottle," Brittany said, gesturing blindly to the side. Santana looked over to a nearby table and quickly retrieved the water bottle, passing it to the blonde. Brittany took a long swig from it, before turning back to the other girl.

And she was licking her lips.

Santana knew it was just because of her drink, but she couldn't help but stare as the blonde's tongue made a brief appearance. And once again, Brittany was just staring.

"You need a lift?" she asked, screwing cap of the bottle back on.

"Uh…well…if it's no trouble," Santana began, shocked by the question, given Brittany's behaviour earlier. Then again, there was no one watching them now.

"If it was, I wouldn't be offering, genius," the blonde said, tilting her head to the side. "Just gimme a sec to clear this crap up."

And so Santana stood, her eyes yet again glued to Brittany as she unhooked the punch bag from it's chain, slinging it over her shoulder and carrying it through to what she assumed was a store room. When she re-emerged, Brittany threw her bottle into her bag, before rummaging around in it for something else. Santana cocked her head slightly, subconsciously trying to get a look at what the taller girl was searching for. Eventually, she pulled something out, but it was so small that her hand completely hid it from view. Brittany looked back at the other girl, giving her a searching look.

"Do you think you could…uh…" She trailed of, chewing the inside of her mouth for a moment. Then she seemed to change her mind. "Fuck it, whatever."

Santana then watched with surprise as the blonde looked down, and finally she saw what was in her hand – a navel piercing.

Brittany rather quickly put it back in, making sure it was sat properly before straightening up and pulling her jacket from the nearby table, slinging it over her shoulder along with her bag. She nodded towards the door, and Santana quickly followed, marvelling at what she had just seen. They stepped out into the sun together, crossing the now deserted parking lot towards Brittany's car. The blonde tossed her bag onto the back seat, before holding her hands out for Santana. The brunette blinked, confused for a moment, before catching on. She shrugged her rucksack off, passing it to the other girl who – far more gently – placed it alongside her own. They climbed into their respective seats, and without a word, Brittany brought the car roaring to life, and turned onto the road.

The ride home was – unsurprisingly – another silent one. Santana had often wondered why Brittany was so quiet during their journeys, given that she was as far from shy as a person could be. But this time, she had a pretty good idea why the blonde was keeping quiet.

Because now Santana Lopez knew she had a navel piercing with a unicorn hanging from it.