I don't think there's any mistakes but i'm tired soy u neevr no (lol that was a joke)

"Bedroom, 0800 hours, Codename: Black Panther, mission: allocate and fondle the treasure known as the glorious twins A.K.A. Santana's boobs...I'm going in"

Brittany does a forward roll out of her closet, humming the James Bond theme tune under her breath and holding her index finger and thumb out like a gun.

"What are you doing?" Santana questions from the bed, leant against Brittany's Superman pillows, eyes confused and yet scared.

Brittany scans the room, gun momentarily aiming at a suspicious shadow on the far left side before turning her away because it turned out to be her own. All seems clear.

There on the bed: her mission objective, trapped behind the confines of a dark purple tank top.

She plays it cool, putting her hands by her sides and standing up straight "Nothing" she lies "What are you doing?"

Santana smirks "Waiting for you… and you really shouldn't keep me waiting"

Brittany gulps, façade falling slightly "Why?"

Santana shifts on the bed so she's on her knees, grabbing Brittany by the hand and pulling her on, Brittany nearly falling on top of her but catching herself at the last minute, only leaving a fraction of a gap between them in the process.

Not that she's complaining.

"Come here 007" is husked in her ear and she would have fallen again at that because like hot but a firm set of lips on hers stops her.

And then, just as it's getting good and she's just about to complete her mission, the bed starts to vibrate and Santana's phone starts to light up at the side of them.

"Ignore it" Santana murmurs between kisses, fingers splayed on Brittany's backside. The buzzing stops.

Two seconds later it starts again. "Will you just answer it" Brittany whines "The buzzing is like rumbling through my brain and making me picture alarm clocks and wind up dolls when I should be thinking about your boobs"

Santana grumbles harshly in Spanish, snatching up her phone and letting out a growled "What" into the receiver.

There's a lot of eye rolls and a few mumbles of yes and no's before Santana drops the phone on the bed and her hand falls back into its place on Brittany's ass.

"Quinn says she's having a party for her birthday" she explains to a still patiently waiting Brittany above her "And it's fancy dress"

Brittany's eyes light up "That sounds awesome" she smiles "We could go as a famous couple. Like Princess Leia and Han Solo or Superman and Lois Lane or Spider Man and Mary-Jane Watson or-"

"Britt" Santana warns in a quiet, regretful voice, eyes betraying emotion she can't put into words.

"Oh right, I forgot"

Brittany says no more, surging forward and connecting their lips.

A hand slams into the locker next to hers, the face of the perpetrator masked by the door to her locker but the gruff grumble of "Sup specky four-eyes" tells her who it is.

She discreetly pulls her glasses off the bridge of her nose and places them on top of her books, leaning back to look behind the door at the letterman wearing, knuckle dragging jockstrap by the name of Dennis.

Santana described him as that not her, after laughing about how the black eye Brittany gave him hadn't heeled after three weeks- at the time Brittany had just nodded weakly, the repercussions of that bout of jealously still in full swing.

She raises her eyebrows, replying civilly "What are you talking about?"

The door slams shut and she narrowly misses her fingers getting jammed into the metal, her hand jerking back. He stares down at her, fists curled and teeth gritted. She cowers.

Which isn't an easy thing to admit because heroes never cower, did Batman ever cower in the face of The Joker or The Penguin, the answer would be no. Cowards cower, not heroes.

She shrinks in on herself and her head ducks away from eye contact, the other occupants of the hallway ignoring them, always ignoring.

"Daily rounds Pierce, you knew it was coming" he spits.

"Yeah I guess so" she murmurs before a hand grabs onto her backpack and pulls her back to slam her straight into the locker, cheek pushed up against the cold metal. She grimaces.

"Later dip wad" he laughs, shoving her once more before sauntering down the hallway like he owned the place.

She doesn't allow herself to gather her thoughts, pulling the straps of her bag together and staring at the ground she staggers down the hallway, rubbing at the spot where her temple made contact with the locker.

She should have known really, like Dennis said, it happens the same every day, but it still knocks the wind out of her when that icy cold liquid gets dunked on the crown of her head. The sickly blue slosh running down the back of her neck and her cheeks, sending a burning shiver down her spine, and it's like Carrie. It's like Carrie and she wants to run away.

So she does, pushing past the smirking and laughing girls with their red uniforms and their empty cups, their glaring eyes and their fowl words. She doesn't stop running until she's collapsed in a heap under the stairs.

Yet if only she knew what eyes were watching the scene. If only they all knew what was going on behind brown eyes.

Santana had watched the proceedings like a hawk, stood at the end of the corridor, books held limp at her side and her brow furrowed.

White hot heat coursed through her body, nearly causing her to collapse at the pressure of it. The sudden urge to through a brick at that stupid idiot jocks face so overwhelming that she nearly does it. She nearly grabs the back of his head and slams his face against a locker because he winks at her. He fucking winks at her.

Like slamming her girlfriend against a locker was doing her a favor, like his amazing bullying skills were supposed to make her weak at the knees.

And then to top it all off, the people that are meant to be her friends, the people that she talks to every day though secretly hates walk up to her Brittany with not one but four slushies and pour it on her.

Pour it. Not throw it. Not even having the decency to allow her to see the attack coming. They poured it on her downcast head like an overbearing chore of theirs, like it happens every day.

She was fucking seething.

"I love Tuesdays" Sam declared, his voice echoing off the locker his body was practically diving into.

Rachel lets out a puff of air, blowing a few strands of fallen hair out of her face, as she leans casually against the lockers "What's so great about Tuesdays?"

His head pops out from the locker, a wide smile adorning his features "It's just the best day"

"Isn't Tuesday just the best day?" Mike exclaims, walking up to them. Sam holds out his hand to give him a high five.

At his side Brittany rubs at her eye, one hand clutching her back pack strap the other soothing the incessant irritation.

Rachel takes a step forward, slapping Brittany's hand away "What happened to your eye?"

"She got slushy in it" Mike answers for her, taking Rachel's place leaning against the locker.

"Cheerleaders?" Rachel sighs.

"Who else" Brittany grumbles still rubbing her eye, Rachel shakes her head disapprovingly "It's not like I'm hurt or anything, it just itch-"

She stops abruptly when her eyes land on the two people stood at the end of the hallway, Santana and Dennis.

Her eyes are disbelieving as she watches her girlfriend flirt with the boy, batting eyelashes, hair twirling and everything, her hand pushing against his chest when he says something that was most likely not even the slightest bit humorous.

The entire exchange sends her head whirling in a stream of jealousy so gastronomical that she nearly sprints down the wall and throws the knuckle dragger through the fucking wall.

A tight grip on her arm stops her and she turns to find the sympathetic eyes of Mike, telling her wordlessly to not do it.

Out of nowhere Quinn appears, Dennis and Santana now long gone, "They're going on a date at Breadstix" she informs glumly. Brittany looks up in shock at the information, Quinn's hand gripping her shoulder in sympathy "I got your back" she reassures.

Still in complete shock and betrayal Brittany stares hard at the ground.

Sam steps up "Then I guess we're all going on a date at Breadstix"

"Hola!" they all shout in unison at the scared family sat in the booth below them.

"Welcome to Breadstix, home of the place with the stix" Quinn babbles in her best Mexican accent, the large moustache adorning her face morphing her voice slightly.

Fully in role Rachel, holding her maracas while Sam strums an ethnic tune on his guitar, takes a step forward "We're going to play you the music of our country"

"Apparently our country is Lithuania" Quinn says under her breath, receiving a sharp jab in the ribs from Rachel's elbow in retort.

"Our family used to play on de streets of Mexico for money until we formed this mariachi band and came to America"

The terrified man on the right side of the booth raises his hand in question; Rachel nods for him to speak "Isn't this an Italian restaurant?"

Rachel flounders "Yes, yes it is. We're- We're a-"

"We're a new race of Italian-Mexicans" Sam jumps in to save her, nudging Mike and Brittany up front and center, Mike's sombrero falling to the side "See"

They give their best smiles, Mike trying and failing to play the trumpet in his hands and Brittany strumming the two chords she knows on her guitar.

"Umm… hola" she tries. Her eyes land on the two people sat in the booth at the end of the row. Enraged with a new bout of jealousy she straightens her moustache, fixes the angle of her sombrero and practically struts over to their table.

"Okay we go now" Quinn fumbles, quickly moving with the group to follow Brittany in her path of destruction.

The scared family breathes a sigh of relief.

Brittany opens her mouth to shout what most likely would be a very big mistake at Dennis but is pushed to the side by Sam.

"Are we enjoying our meal?" he twangs in a surprisingly better Spanish accent than before.

It's like a day at the fair in Dennis' mind "I love mariachi bands" he exclaims flipping his decidedly shitty haircut, his stupid ass bangs covering his eyes like the douchebag he is. God Santana really fucking hated his guts.

Yet she puts off her hatred for a second to stare confusingly at the surprisingly familiar Spanish singers.

"Don't you Santana?" he asks with his stupid voice and his stupid bangs and his stupid face.

"Uh yeah sure" she smiles slightly and the next thing she knows the moustache wearer to the right- the same one who's been glaring daggers at Dennis the entire time- is slamming the base of their guitar straight into Dennis' stupid face.

"Oh sorry" they spit sarcastically, still slamming the guitar in his face three more times "Didn't see you there"

They only stops when one of their fellow band members holds them back, the guitar player struggling in his arms to get to Dennis.

She doesn't know why she didn't see it straight away and that it took the man to struggle out a "Brittany stop" for it to click in her mind that that is in fact her girlfriend.

And then she feels like throwing up because holy shit what must this look like.

They're all thrown out by some extremely pissed off waitresses, Dennis is hurling threats of suing and before she can think she's jumping up after them.

"Where are you going?" he gurgles through the blood pouring out of his nose, his hand vainly trying to stop the flow. "You're my date"

Santana stops in her pursuit, back rigid as she turns around "Just shut your fucking face" he stares at her in shock and it makes her even angrier "Oh get your head out of your ass, as if I'd go out with you. You've about as much personality as a piece of crap stuck to my shoe and you look a lot like that piece of crap after I've just walked through a field of rusty nails" she turns back to storm out, stopping short to shout "By the way, get a fucking haircut. NSYNC was in the nineties"

She runs all the way through the restaurant- even through the kitchen which caused her to almost fall on her ass due to a misplaced sauce pan- until she bursts out the backdoor and finds the back alley empty.

"Shit" she curses, kicking her foot against the brick wall in frustration.

"Quinn! I swear if you curse one more time"

She'd recognize that nasally and annoying voice anywhere.

"You're off your rocker girl, I didn't say anything"

"Yes you did I just heard you, it's like you're just finding any excuse nowadays, that word was not needed"

"I didn't say anything!"

"Don't lie to me!"

Santana follows the arguing voices, turning the corner to find all five of them getting changed out of their costumes. "Britt" she tries, her voice weak and apologetic, Brittany turns to face her, face glum and seconds away from crying. "I can explain"

Brittany just shakes her head "There's no point" she croaks out and without another word she's mounting her bike and riding down the road before Santana can stop her.

"Double shit" she shouts.

"Quinn!"

"It wasn't me!"

Mike knocked on the door of the Pierce residence, his knuckles scraping slightly on the old white wood. It swung open not seconds after, a little blonde boy greeting him with a fist bump.

"Sup T-dog" Mike smiled.

"Sup Changster" Tobi greeted back "You here to cheer Britt up?"

"You know it"

Mike wondered around the house towards Brittany's room after Tobi let him in, knocking on the slightly ajar door quietly. "Come in" sounded a soft voice from inside. He pushed the door open more and slipped in, finding Brittany knelt in front of a fish tank in the corner of the room.

"Since when do you own fish?" he asked, walking toward where she perched, kneeling down beside her to look at the loan small goldfish in the tank.

"My mom bought it me" Brittany explains keeping her eyes on the gawping fish, though he can still see the prominent dark circles under her eyes "She thought it might cheer me up" she sighs, tapping the tank with her index finger "She's called Debbie"

Debbie the fish stares at her in shock.

"Debbie?"

Brittany hums "I named her after the woman in the post office"

"I didn't know you were friends"

"We're not. I just admire her sass" she says and goes to sit on the coach, un-pausing her game of crash bandicoot.

He goes to sit next to her "When was the last time you slept?"

"Umm" she spends a while thinking, even having to pause her game again "What day was it when I broke that guys nose?"

"Monday"

"Yeah then the night before that" she slumps down on the couch "Though I did fall asleep in AP English but Rachel woke me up when I started drooling down the back of her shirt"

Mike clears his throat "Has she called?" he asks and Brittany picks up her toy gun and shoots one of those bright orange sucker things at the far wall, when he looks he sees her phone taped to the wall, the screen lighting up to show twenty missed calls and forty messages. She slumps even further on the couch, slipping her head inside her oversized jumper. "Why don't you just talk to her?"

"You don't understand" she states, still inside her jumper.

"Exactly" he grits "I don't understand. I don't understand why you can't just talk to her. You're clearly miserable without her, why can't you just talk?"

She pulls her head out the jumper "Because it hurts" she stops "Alright? It hurts so much that I can't eat, I can't sleep, and I can barely even get out of bed in the morning. It just hurts too much"

"Fine" he gives up "But someone who calls and texts that much clearly is hurting just as much, if not more than you are right now" he gets up to leave, pausing at the door "It's Quinn's party tomorrow" he tells her in an expectant manner.

She smiles for the first time since he got there "Batman and Robin?"

He smiles back "I'll even let you be Batman this year"

Once he's gone and Brittany's left alone with a half completed game of crash bandicoot and a goldfish that keeps eating her own poop she stands and reaches over to the wall, tearing the tape off her phone and dialing the speed dial number one, popping the little orange sucker off the wall and sticking it to her forehead while she waits the five seconds it takes before a raspy and hopeful voice comes through the speaker.

"Hi…yeah I know…" she speaks earnestly in reply, rubbing at her temples "I miss you too"

Brittany stood with Mike on the sidewalk, looking decidedly old school in her vintage Batman costume- a little too big for her but her and Mike had been alternating these costumes for years so she can't expect it to be fitted exactly to her body- holding onto her utility belt with her left hand and gripping onto the carrier bag with Quinn's present in in with the other.

Mike pulls his green underwear out of the crack of his ass once again.

"You keep doing that all night you'll get nowhere with the ladies you seem so eager to acquire" she smirks at him.

"It's not my fault this costume is like four sizes too small" he grumbles, rearranging his underwear again "This fabric is all tight on my man bits"

Brittany scrunches up her face in disgust "What did I say about talking about your man bits?"

"That you'd rather eat raw eggs for the rest of your life than hear about them" he repeats on oath.

Brittany smiles and starts swooshing around her cape in boredom "Where's Sam?" she asks "He was supposed to be here like two minutes ago" her questions are answered when she spots the bumbling man jogging down the side walk, hair abnormally long and body clothed in a green sort of tunic.

Brittany furrows her brow "Is he…?

"Dressed as Hank the Ranger from the 1983 Dungeons and Dragons series?" Mike supplies and Brittany nods.

"I thought so" she sighs.

Sam finally reaches them "Hey guys" he says enthusiastically, blowing his long blonde wig out of his eyes while catching his breath.

Mike shakes his head "Really Sam?"

Sam's face falls "What?"

"Hank the Ranger?" Mike questions condescendingly "You could have come as Captain America or Superman but you came as Hank the Ranger"

Sam shrugs "I wanted to be Hank the Ranger, besides no one's gonna know who I am let alone pay attention to me long enough to notice"

"You should have joined us and gone as Cat Woman" Brittany jokes, causing Sam to laugh and Mike- though he had his protests- to at least crack a smile.

"Where's Rachel?" Mike deflects.

"She said she was five minutes away when I called five minutes ago so…" Sam shrugs and miraculously ten seconds later a bright blue smart car pulls up to the curb.

Rachel rolls down the window "I'm ready" she shouts.

Sam scrunches up his face in disgust "Your car looks like it's been doing the nasty with a Smurf"

"Rude" Rachel states; not impressed in the slightest with Sam's attitude.

"What are you supposed to be?" Brittany asks as she gets in the passenger seat, Mike and Sam in the back, and looks over Rachel's costume, which just looks like she's thrown on her normal clothes.

Rachel pulls away from the curb driving under the designated speed limit to Quinn's house "I'm Courtney Cox circa 1994"

Brittany looks back confused at the other guys, who are sporting similar looks "Okay" is all she says in reply.

Which is exactly the same as what she says when Quinn answers the door- to the already full house- shouting "I'm a Banana!" and shaking about her yellow costume. Rachel is already in the habit of rolling her eyes at anything Quinn does so she just does what she does best, which of course causes an argument between the two.

"Quinn" Brittany interrupts the fight "I got you a present" she holds out the plastic bag.

"Sweet" Quinn sings, taking the carrier bag and searching through it.

"It's a ficus" Brittany shrugs.

Quinn pulls out the potted plant "Awesome" she nods appreciatively "I love plants"

"We know" Sam, Mike and Rachel seem to say in unison like one of those cheesy eighties sitcoms.

Quinn rolls her eyes "Where are all my presents from you guys?" she questions with raised eyebrows, to be met with half assed murmured excuses.

Brittany's then ushered into the house by an impatient Mike, being pushed and shoved by people she somewhat knows and some she's never seen before in her life, and to be honest she's glad she doesn't know them-who dresses up as the declaration of independence?-. But then she's practically shoved back onto a huge couch which is as soft as a cloud so she's not one to complain.

Sam falls down next to her "Oh my god I want to be buried on this couch" he gushes.

"I know right?" she agrees "Quinn where did you get this couch?" she calls over to Quinn, who's still very much in a heated argument with Rachel about her costume choice.

Nevertheless she seems to have miraculously heard her "Santana brought it" she shouts offhand like over her shoulder.

"Santana's here?"

"Yeah she helped me set everything up"

"She did?"

"Yes" Quinn huffs out, exhausted with all the questioning.

Brittany stands "I'm gonna go look for Santana" she says to Sam, who waves his hand for here to go, leaving him alone with a still arguing Rachel and Quinn.

He throws his hands up "Where's Mike?"

Santana was bored, like really bored.

She knows sitting on her own on Quinn's back porch with her legs dangling off the edge and a wine cooler in her hand isn't exactly the most social behavior but in the most literal sense, she don't give two shits.

And since for the last week she'd been cooped up in her room wallowing in self-pity and constantly calling Brittany she really wasn't in the mood.

She should be happy really, Brittany did finally answer and they talked on the phone for like three hours, Santana explaining that the only reason she went out with that ass hat was because she saw what he did and it was part of her plan to get revenge on him.

She now understands that luring him into a date so she could beat the living shit out of him with a baseball bat without getting suspended, wouldn't have really panned in her favor in the long run.

What can she say; she's a slave to love.

A purposeful cough breaks through the noises of drunk teens and Dub step and she turns to find Brittany stood alone with a drink in her hand.

She smiles and pats the space next to her "You found me"

Brittany sits down next to her, handing her the bottle that was in her hands "It wasn't hard, you always tear the labels off your drinks" she points to the torn label on the bottle "I just had to follow them"

Santana looks at her for a long time, her blonde Batman "You're like Sherlock Holmes but for semi drunk girls"

"Yeah…?" Brittany smiles shyly, briefly looking her in the eyes before looking down again when Santana nods "I like your costume" she says, rubbing the pink fabric between her thumb and index finger.

Santana leans in a little closer "I used to watch Power Rangers every morning since I was like ten, I had all the tapes and everything" she says, shuffling a little closer "You make a really awesome Batman by the way"

"Thanks" Brittany leans in too but at the last second scans her surroundings and pulls away, scratching a non-existent itch on her nose, finding the grass suddenly extremely interesting and planting her hands firmly at her sides.

Santana brushes her finger tips lightly against Brittany's arm "Britt" she calls out to her and Brittany turns her head to look up at her "I think…" she pauses to gather her thoughts "I think we need to be more open with each other"

Brittany nods "Alright" there's a long moment of silence.

"You're gonna make me go first aren't you?"

"Yep" Brittany nods again this time with an amused smile lighting her face.

Santana lets out a breathy laugh, staring down at her hand where it rests a breath away from Brittany's "Alright then…um" she lets out a nervous laugh "I'm pretty sure all my friends hate me now because I made them run laps all day in the rain… in their underwear… carrying four five hundred page textbooks each" Brittany's eyebrows shoot up "I was mad at what they did to you and I wanted them to feel bad but of course they didn't because they had no idea what they'd done" she sighs "They just thought I was being a total bitch"

"Kinda defeats the purpose of the thing I was gonna say" Brittany shrugs, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth "Thank you though, I don't think anyone's done anything like that for me before"

Santana scoots closer, her hand falling to cover Brittany's "How long?"

"Do you remember that time I kind of lost my head and punched Dennis at that party because he was gonna put his hand on your ass?" Santana nods, the memory causing a small smile despite the somber tone "Well, that was when it got past weekly slushying"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know" she says smiling a small bitter smile and shrugging her shoulders "I guess I was ashamed, and I didn't want you to think less of me because I couldn't stand up for myself" her head falls to stare at the floor in shame, but not a second passes before a soft hand is nudging it back up to look into brown eyes.

"I would never think less of you" Santana promises "For anything. Even if you said you farted on an old lady" she adds to break the tension "Though I really hope you haven't"

"I haven't" Brittany breathes through a laugh, her face suddenly turns stoic "I have to tell you something"

Santana almost gulps "What?"

"I really, really, really don't like any of your friends" Brittany brakes out into a smile, Santana smacking her playfully with the back of her hand.

"You'll give me a heart attack one day" she says, pointing an accusing finger at Brittany.

Brittany grins, wiggling her eyebrows "From loving too much?"

"Of course" Santana agrees, leaning forward to kiss her.

Brittany, though momentarily fixated on the taste and feel of Santana's lips after so long without kissing them, pulls away as if scolded "What are you doing?"

Santana doesn't move an inch, keeping them only a fraction away from each other "I'm tired of hiding" she declares "I don't care what people think anymore, I love you. I love everything about you. I love your bed head in the morning; I love that stupid little crooked smile you do, I love that my parents love you, I love the clothes you wear, the way you part your hair to the left because you heard that it makes you look more dangerous and I love the fact you care enough to notice that I tear the labels off everything I drink. I just love you, and I don't care anymore. I don't know why I ever did… you and I are perfect together and I want everyone to know it"

Brittany smiles that crooked smile, eyes slightly watery before surging forward to marry their lips together once again for the entire world to see. "Sometimes I can't believe I'm lucky enough to have you" she breathes when they break apart, her hand resting on Santana's thigh "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about everything from the start"

"It's alright" Santana shrugs.

She stands, holding out her hand for Santana to take.

Santana stands up with her, tugging on her utility belt to bring her closer "You wanna go watch Wheel of Fortune with me, Bruce Wayne?" Santana flirts.

"I sure would Kimberly Hart" Brittany smiles.

"How did you remember her real name?" Santana laughs.

"I have an amazing memory for things that don't matter in the slightest" Brittany kisses her one last time before they walk hand in hand through the house and all the way home to Santana's bedroom.

this chapter was a lot more dramatic i gotta admit but i had to get it outta the way for all the awesome fun times ahead ;)
(that was not a suggestive winky face in the slightest get your mind out of the gutter)

i've come to the conclusion that you are all beautiful people for all your reviews and alerts and favorites and awesomeness, and i'm going to continue to shower you with compliments in every author note so get ready.

let me know what you think... you lovely lovely people