Brittany's not sure what wakes her. She's still in that fuzzy place between the dream and waking worlds, so she hopes that if she keeps her eyes shut maybe she can just drift back to sleep, but when she stretches an arm out across the bed to find the other side cold and empty, they snap open and she sits up.

It shouldn't still surprise her when Santana does this, she's done it enough times since the summer, always waits for her to fall asleep and then leaves as if afraid of what will happen if they wake up together, as if that would make this all too real. It shouldn't surprise her, but it still does, every single time, and every single time it feels like she's being stabbed in the gut.

It's still pitch black outside so she knows it's late, or early, she isn't really sure, and it takes a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the dark. When they do, she notices that Santana hasn't actually left after all. She's sitting at the window, which she has thrown open, her eyes closed, leaning back against the frame, one leg hanging outside, the other resting on the window-ledge, knee pulled up to her chest. She seems to have claimed one of Brittany's hoodies rather than putting any of her own clothes back on, and starts something inside her that she can't quite place, the same feeling she always gets when Santana wears her clothes.

She wonders if she does this every time, sitting awake in her room for hours before she sneaks away. She'd always just assumed that Santana was out the door the minute she'd fallen asleep, but watching her now, she realises this is just another battle that Santana has to fight every night. The urge to stay versus her need to run. She might always be on the losing side of that fight, but it means everything to her that Santana is keeping her promise of at least trying.

Santana doesn't seem to have noticed that she's awake, so she quietly fishes around on the floor at the side of the bed, searching until she finds her tank top in the pile of discarded clothes. She pulls it on over her head, and then slips out of the bed, carefully making her way over to Santana and places a hand on her shoulder.

Santana jumps at the contact and jerks forward, losing her balance and falling sideways towards the open window. Luckily Brittany has always had awesome reflexes and she's able to wrap both her arms around her, one around her waist, the other across her chest, and she holds her steady.

"Jesus, Britt."

She can feel Santana's heart pounding, can tell her breathing has increased, so she tightens her grip.

"I swear you're like a fucking ninja or something. Next time try making some noise so a girl has a bit of warning when you're sneaking up on her, will ya?"

"But where's the fun in that?" She nudges her to move forward so she can sit behind her, both arms now securely around her waist, and she pulls Santana so she's pressed against her. She presses her lips against Santana's neck, once, twice. Santana shivers and she's fairly sure it isn't from the cold.

"Well where's the fun in having to explain to your parents how I ended up falling out your window at god knows what time in the morning?"

"I wouldn't have let you fall." Another kiss, this time she nips at the skin slightly. "And anyway, not like it'd be the first time."

"Okay, first of all, last time I fell climbing in your window, I didn't fall out of it."

Brittany doesn't really see the difference, but decides not to argue, instead just keeps kissing her neck, Santana tilting her head to give her better access.

"And secondly..." Her words trail off when Brittany moves a hand lower, slipping underneath material in search of bare skin. "And secondly..."

"And secondly?" She mumbles the words against her neck.

She hears Santana's breath catch. "And secondly, something I can't seem to remember while you're doing that."

She stills, though she keeps her hands where they are. "You want me to stop?"

"God no."

Brittany is about to continue when she notices the cigarette in Santana's hand and she pulls away. "I thought you weren't going to smoke any more?"

Santana glances from the cigarette then back at her, guilt in her eyes. "It isn't lit." She seems to realise that the fact that she's holding a lighter in her other hand doesn't exactly help her case here, and closes her fist around it. "Fine, okay." She holds the cigarette up to Brittany and then flicks it out of the window. "It's gone. Happy?"

Brittany frowns. "I think that counts as littering."

"I think it's a waste of a good cigarette." Santana leans forward slightly, peering down into the darkness below them, and Brittany wonders if she's considering climbing down after it. She keeps a tight grip on her just in case. Instead Santana sighs and leans back against her, resting her hands on top of hers. "I have to go see Ms Pillsbury tomorrow."

"Why?" She can feel worry setting in. Santana never reacts well to people trying to force her to talk about her emotions, she learned that the hard way.

"Apparently vandalism of school property doesn't go down too well."

Maybe they should have expected some comeback from torching that piano other than Mr Schue kicking Santana out of Glee club, but usually Coach Sylvester protects them from any punishment. "I thought you frightened her so much last time, she wouldn't let you in her office any more?"

"So did I. Guess I'm losing my touch."

She somehow doubts that. "Maybe you should take the lighter. If you sit and play with it, maybe she'll get scared you'll burn her office down and let you leave."

"That's not a bad idea, not bad at all."

It isn't but she hadn't meant for it to be taken as a serious suggestion. She hesitates before making another one. "Or maybe, I dunno, maybe talking to her wouldn't be such a bad idea either." She feels Santana tense in her arms and knows instantly she's made a mistake.

"I can't, you know that I can't."

"Okay, okay." She peppers Santana's neck and jaw with soft gentle kisses until she feels her start to relax against her.

It must have turned colder outside as she shudders as a breeze hits her. Santana turns to look at her, gently reaching a hand back to cup her face, the other remains pressed against the two of hers that are resting on her stomach. "Shit, B, you're freezing."

She hadn't even noticed until now, but now she has she can't seem to stop shaking.

Santana leans to the side and pulls the window closed. She takes hold of Brittany's hands and Brittany finds herself being pulled back towards the bed, where Santana sits her down on the edge.. "Might help if you'd put some clothes on."

"I would have but someone's stolen my favorite hoodie." She reaches out and gives a pointed tug on the hem.

She can't make out Santana's features fully, but she just knows that would have earned her an eye roll. "You have other clothes. Brittany." Santana crosses over to her dresser and starts searching through the drawer. "Besides it looks better on me."

"Would look even better off you."

Santana freezes and slowly turns to face her. "Tell me you didn't just say that. Because that's just..."

"True?"

"I was gonna go with lame, but you know, you have a point. I am really hot."

"You are really, really hot." She allows her eyes to roam over Santana's body, taking her in.

Santana is now walking back towards her, the hunt for clothes abandoned . Brittany finds herself being pushed onto her back, Santana wasting no time in straddling her.

"What happened to needing clothes?"

"I've suddenly thought of better ways to keep you warm, and none of them involve clothes."

Santana is leaning down to kiss her, but Brittany places her hands on her shoulders and gently stops her. Questioning brown eyes meet hers. "Will you stay with me? I know I said I wouldn't push, and I know how hard you're trying, but just for tonight, will you stay with me? I'm not asking for more than that. I just...I need you to be here when I wake up. Even if it's just this once."

Santana holds her gaze, and she knows she's thinking carefully about this. Both of them have said they won't make promises they can't keep. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

There aren't any words she can say to explain how much this means to her. She always has been better with actions anyway, so she simply slides an arm around Santana's back and pulls her down to her so she can show her instead.

As a rule, Emma makes a point of having as little contact with Santana Lopez as possible. If she's honest the girl terrifies her, always has done. She only has to fix her with that stare and she looses the ability to speak, or at least to form coherent words. She thinks it's because Santana reminds her so much of those girls that had made her life a living hell back when she was in high school. They'd also been cheerleaders with vicious tongues, and sometimes it only takes the smallest of snide comments from Santana and she finds herself having flashbacks.

When Will had asked her yesterday if she'd talk to Santana about the incident with the purple piano, she'd at first refused point blank to get involved, Santana has been sent to her office on many occasions over the past three years, not as many as she's no doubt been summoned to see Principle Figgins, but it's still an impressive number all the same.

The problem is that every session always turns out the same. Any questions she dares ask are always met with an exaggerated eyeroll, followed by stony silence. Then the two of them sit in silence, her watching Santana filing her nails, until she can't handle any more and gives permission for her to leave.

So far today isn't looking like it's going to end any differently, but Will has asked her to at least try, so try she will. "So how's everything at home?" She knows very little about Santana's home life so thinks it's a good place to start.

At the very least it doesn't result in an eyeroll, though she does find herself on the receiving end of an incredulous stare. "Really? You're really going to do this? Because I thought we had an understanding that in these little chats of ours, you don't ask me any questions then I don't have to refuse to answer them. Wasn't that the deal we had?"

She's fairly certain that she's never made any such deal. "Santana, you set fire to a piano last week. That could be taken as a warning sign of you being a socio-path."

"Okay, technically I didn't start the fire, Quinn Fabray did. Maybe it's her you need to be having this conversation with."

She has a point about Quinn, but she'll work on one problem at a time. "It was you that added the gasoline though, correct?" All that gets her is a shrug. "Santana, you're lucky you weren't suspended over this."

Her comment is dismissed with a wave of a hand. "Oh please. Like Coach Sylvester would have let that happen."

Of course she's right on that, Sue would have stepped in to protect her girls from any fallout from this, Cheerios gives them that protection, which suddenly has her wondering something. "You quit the Cheerios last year, didn't you?."

"So?"

"What made you decide to go back?"

Santana just stares at her, for what feels like minutes, then says, "You wouldn't understand."

"Why don't you try me?"

"Why don't I try you? How about because you're a high school guidance counsellor who has more issues than the entire student body combined?" Santana folds her arms and leans back in the chair. "How's that for a reason? Or do you want more than one? Because I have a list, a long list of reasons why I don't want to talk to you about feelings and crap."

She fully believes that's true, and she's almost tempted to say yes, she'd love to hear that list, to let her rhyme off every single item on there. It would at least give her some insight into the girl. However there's also a chance it might reduce her to tears, and that would just be unprofessional. "No, I think one is sufficient."

Santana just returns to filing her nails.

"Mr Schuester told me that he's asked you to leave New Directions."

Santana keeps her eyes on her hands. "Yeah, he kicked me out. S'no big deal. Spending so much time with those losers was really starting to make me feel depressed anyway."

"Do you think you're suffering from depression?" She's not sure why she asks that. It has gotten Santana to look at her though, even if it is only to scowl at her.

"I didn't say that."

"Actually, Santana, you did."

"Come on, it's a figure of speech. I've nothing to be depressed about any more."

"So you have been depressed in the past?" She knows she's starting to get to Santana with all her questions, but the girl's talking to her, so that's progress at least.

"No." Santana lets out a sigh that's pure frustration, and Emma can tell that she's struggling to hold her tongue here, not to lose her temper completely. She also suspects she's onto something, but she knows you can't push Santana Lopez too hard without getting pushed back. "Look, I don't care about Glee club, okay?" There's something in her eyes that tells Emma that isn't exactly the truth.

"Well, I think that's a shame because you're incredibly talented, Santana, and I hate to see all that potential go to waste."

She finds she's done the impossible and left Santana Lopez speechless, she just stares at her, disbelief written all over her face, as if she doesn't quite know how to take the compliment.

"You have an amazing voice, you can certainly dance, and I think we've all seen that you can be quite the actress when you want to be. I think you're actually one of the few triple threats that New Directions has."

She finds Santana won't look at her now, her arms are folded across her chest, her eyes fixed firmly on the carpet. "Yeah, well too bad that it'll always be The Rachel Berry Show."

She wants to argue against that, to defend Will, tell her that he doesn't have favorites, but she isn't one hundred percent sure that's the truth so she lets it go. "Auditions have started for West Side Story. Maybe that's an option, something to consider if you're not interested in going back to Glee club."

Santana's quiet for a while but eventually looks up at her. "If I promise to think about it, can I go?"

She nods and Santana is on her feet and at the door immediately. She stops though and turns back to her. "Thanks." Then she's gone.

Later she's doing paperwork when Will knocks on her door. "Hey, did you get chance to talk to Santana?"

"I did."

"And?"

She looks up at him. It might not be the answer he wants to hear, but it's the only one she has for him right now. "And I think you should let her back in Glee Club."

Santana arrives at Brittany's house after school to find her lying on her stomach on her bedroom floor, tongue sticking out in concentration as she draws intently on a large sheet of paper. She's so focused on whatever it is that she's doing, she hasn't even heard her come upstairs so Santana takes the opportunity to just lean against the doorway and watch her, her eyes slowly traveling the full length of her body and yeah, so what if her eyes might linger on that ass for maybe a bit too long.

"You're staring."

She jumps as Brittany's voice breaks her out of her trance and she's suddenly not even sure just how long she's been stood there, probably a while if the satisfied smirk on Brittany's face is anything to go by. She enters the room, dropping down onto Brittany's bed, rolling onto her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows so she can look down at Brittany. "Whatcha doing?"

"Making campaign posters for Kurt."

"Why?" Santana's eyes narrow, and she can't keep the sneer out of her voice, though maybe she doesn't really try.

"I'm his campaign manager. It's in the job description, I think. Wanna help?"

"Hell no." She rolls over onto her back,staring at the ceiling before Brittany can start with the puppy dog eyes, or worse, break out the pout.

"But San..." She draws her name out, and Santana knows she's only going to end up losing this discussion.

"I don't do arts and crafts." She really doesn't and she hopes that'll be the end of it. She has no interest in playing any part in Hummel becoming their Class President and still can't figure out why Brittany does. When she feels the bed dip, she knows she's in trouble. She closes her eyes, hoping to delay her inevitable defeat.

"San, but I need you."

"Sorry, but I don't remember volunteering to waste my time helping Hummel with his suicide mission. This was your thing, so you're on your own."

"Please, Santana." She feels a hand rest on her bare thigh, just above the knee to start with but soon it's sliding it's way upwards. She swallows as it slips under her Cheerios skirt. "I'd owe you."

She squeezes her eyes shut even tighter, as if that could keep out the images that are suddenly invading her head. "You're cheating," she mumbles.

"Don't know what you're talking about."

When she feels the bed dip again and Brittany slide a leg over hers so she's straddling her, she knows for sure that Brittany knows exactly what she's doing. She has to bite back a moan when she feels lips on her neck, long fingers sliding underneath her cheerios top, tracing shapes over her skin.

Yeah, she has no choice but to give in, but she decides to make the most of it first and lets it continue for another minute or so. When she opens her eyes, she finds Brittany staring down at her, her eyes dark. She doesn't get the chance to tell her she'll help with the stupid posters, instead Brittany's lips are on hers, and she's kissing her hard and deep. Eventually oxygen is an issue and Brittany pulls back, though she stays hovering over her.

"What about the posters?"

"I've found something better to do."

Santana sits up to capture her lips again. She's going to choose to take this as a victory.

She should have just agreed to help with the campaign posters in the first place. That fact hits her when it's two am and they're laid out on the floor of Brittany's bedroom, surrounded by a laptop, pink card, marker pens and balled up pieces of paper, staring down at their latest effort. She tried not to laugh, she really did, especially as Brittany had been so excited that they'd finally completed a poster at last.

Brittany's face falls. "What's so funny?"

"I'm just picturing Kurt's face when he sees it."

"You don't think he'll like it?"

She pauses, debating her options. Tell Brittany Kurt will love the poster and bask in the fallout that will be the result. Or be honest and suggest they maybe rethink a couple of things. As she looks over it, she realises that it did kind of escalate, each of them adding to it as they went along, the whole thing getting more and more over the top, and okay maybe she shouldn't have suggested Kurt be carrying the unicorn on his back. She blames the sleep deprivation. "I'm sure he'll love it, B." The temptation of seeing Kurt throw a full blown hissy fit, is too good an opportunity to pass up.

"Wouldn't it make more sense for the unicorn to be carrying Kurt?"

Oh well, there goes her fun with the one. "Okay, you might have a point."

Brittany sighs and throws the marker pen she'd been using across the room. It bounces off the wall and lands harmlessly a few feet away from them. "This is all your fault."

Santana raises an eyebrow. "Seriously? You're blaming me? Just how exactly is all this my fault?"

"You distracted me."

Santana's pretty sure it was the other way round, but she keeps her mouth shut. Starting an argument with an exhausted Brittany has never ended well in the past and no-one can ever accuse her of not learning from her mistakes. "I just don't see why we have to do them tonight. It's not like a few posters are gonna make a huge difference. No matter how kick ass they are, it won't be enough to make people vote for Hummel. Even I'd rather vote for Rick the Dick than be caught dead voting for Hummel."

"I told him I'd help."

"Britt, it's two in the morning."

"You said you'd help."

"Actually I didn't." A hollow victory it might have been, but it's a victory all the same.

Brittany frowns at her. "You didn't?"

"No." She didn't, did she? She doesn't remember doing so, but then her attention had been focused on other things at that point.

Brittany sighs. Again.

Santana slides closer to her until she's sitting behind her and wraps an arm around her, her chin resting on her shoulder. "Listen, how's about we get some sleep and just set the alarm to get up extra early in the morning and work on them then? And if we've not finished, we'll skip first period, and second, and so on until they're done." It sounds like the perfect plan to her, hell, anything that leads to spending more time with Brittany always sounds like a good plan to her, even if it does mean doing something for Hummel.

"And you promise you'll help tomorrow? Won't just say you're too busy or make up some excuse?" She feels her lean back into her embrace slightly.

"I promise." She's surprised to find she means it, isn't plotting on how to get out of it. Baby steps, right? If she starts with the small promises, then maybe she can eventually work up to the big stuff.