Hi everyone. Glee sucks, but what else is new. I mean, I didn't watch the episode so I don't even know, but if you did- I'm sorry. :(

Keep calm and ship Brittana, because they are endgame no matter what trolls say.

Thanks to everyone for reading, reviewing, following, lurking, etc. the story. I love you all. :')

Happy angsting! 8)~

It isn't easy for me to let go

'Cause- I swallow every single word

And every whisper, every sigh

Eats away at this heart of mine

There is a hollow me, now

Brittany knows whose perfume invades her senses before she sees her, and, not for the first time, she feels the beginnings of anger stirring in her blood. She wonders why Santana thinks she can just walk in and out of her life when it's convenient for Santana- especially since they haven't spoken since Santana went back to Louisville after the holidays. Brittany wonders at unofficial, and how Santana even knew there was a Sadie Hawkins dance tonight-

But all those feelings get pushed aside as leather-clad arms slide around her waist, pulling her back into a still supple- but significantly shorter than she's been used to the past few weeks- body, and she sighs, she relaxes, her eyes slide closed in unrestrained bliss because Santana, and-

Her eyes snap open, dart around quickly. She's here with Sam, and Sam will unfortunately be returning to break her perfect moment very soon with the drink he had gone to procure for her. Her heart flutters, just barely, at his consideration. Consideration- something the body attached to the arms around her has obviously forgotten.

Santana, Brittany sighs, the slightest hint of anger in her tone. She struggles to turn, for Santana's arms have not loosened, and she feels mild panic in her for a moment- what if someone sees?- before pushing it aside. She doesn't care- she's never cared. That's always been for Santana to do, and at the moment Santana doesn't seem to, either.

Santana's eyes are dark, burning, like a firestorm- she's got the possessive look in her eye that tells Brittany that Santana knows Brittany's been dancing- a respectable distance from, but still- with Sam all evening- has asked Sam to a dance when Santana has only ever been her date to dances, and she's not happy about it.

But how can Santana get upset? She told her to- she told her-

Brittany glares in response to Santana's heated gaze, but it's just a front. She's beyond happy that Santana is here, is standing in her arms, is looking at her like that. So she sighs, and she caves, and she offers Santana a half smile. Not here, she says lowly, and Santana smirks in response, as if she's just won a battle- and maybe she has.

Come with me, Santana breathes, and Brittany feels Santana's warm hand slipping into her own, their fingers lacing together as Santana tugs her gracefully through the crowd of dancing people and out the side door of the gymnasium, into darkness.

Once the door closes with an audible click, Brittany is assaulted with Santana's lips on hers, warm and wet and claiming, as teeth graze her bottom lip and Santana's free hand moves to blatantly grab her ass through her silver dress, pulling Brittany closer, pulling their bodies together flush.

Brittany kisses back, trying to convey to Santana how angry she is but softening the blow with loving nips and licks, and Santana accepts her anger and returns her own, their teeth clashing as the kiss picks up in ferocity and Brittany's back hits the doorframe.

Not here, she repeats, but a lot more breathless; Santana hums in her throat, her eyes burning holes into Brittany, and she turns, leading Brittany around the corner. Their footsteps echo in the dark, empty halls and Brittany feels her heart racing as Santana guides them to one of their old spots. It's a small niche in a brick wall downstairs, in an older, empty wing of the school, behind a sharp corner. It was never the most ideal place, because it wasn't like they were the only ones in the entire school who knew of its existence, which made the risk of getting caught pretty high; but now, with the school mostly deserted except for the people at the dance, and the chaperones concerned with punch-spiking attempts, there was very little chance of them being found out.

Brittany's stomach clenches in anticipation as Santana brings them to a stop in front of the alcove and then traces her fingers over the rough, unpainted texture of the brick. Brittany watches as Santana seemingly gets caught up in remembrances of previous moments spent against the wall, and takes the opportunity to trace her eyes over Santana's form. Santana's dressed in all black with her hair up, like she's a ninja or maybe a jewel-thief or even a robber, since she stole Brittany from the dance. Santana's wearing her black leather jacket with the hood, tight black pants and high-heeled boots. Under her jacket is a purple-striped shirt but Brittany's eyes linger the longest on Santana's exposed neck, and she's overcome with the urge to bury her face there in the warmth and just breathe Santana in like she's some sort of exotic drug. Brittany licks her lips- she wants Santana so, so much.

The next thing she knows, Brittany's being pressed up into the brick wall and Santana's kissing her again roughly, and Brittany feels angry and guilty all at once. She'd been doing this with Santana for weeks- for months while dating Sam- but never while Sam was in the same building. She'd asked Sam to the dance because she'd felt guilty, heartbroken, lonely, unofficial. She didn't even really want to go to the dance- she'd only ever had Santana as her date to dances- but that's what girlfriends did, right? They asked their boyfriends to Sadie Hawkins dances, and went with them even if they were thinking of someone else and remembering the previous year's Prom instead-

Santana bites down harshly on Brittany's lower lip, and Brittany gasps, reminded of the fact that she's currently cheating on Sam- because it is cheating, of that Brittany's completely sure. Her guilt turns to anger as Santana's hands return to cupping and groping her ass, the feeling sending a jolt of arousal straight down to her groin. Sam is her boyfriend, and Santana told her to date other people, but she hasn't respected her and Sam's relationship or treated it like a real thing, because he's just a stupid boy. Brittany can't blame her, because she doesn't feel that it is, either (maybe Brittany thinks he's just a stupid boy, too) - but what if it was? Would Santana halt? Would she keep her distance?

Would they always be just a stupid boy to Santana?

Admittedly, Brittany knows she's done nothing but encourage Santana to ignore the fact that Brittany's in a relationship with Sam; but Brittany knows Santana would have, anyway. Brittany doesn't want to crumble, doesn't want to cheat, doesn't want to have to sneak off to dark, abandoned hallways with Santana anymore- they'd moved past that, hadn't they? - but she can't be without Santana, and she can't be with Santana, so she allows herself to be pushed up against the brick more firmly as Santana begins to hike Brittany's dress up, enough for Santana to get her hand underneath.

Brittany swallows. She shouldn't feel guilty- she doesn't want to feel guilty. She wants Santana, but instead she has Sam- Sam, who is not Santana- and she's irrationally angry at him in that moment, because he's the one that asked her out when she was at her most vulnerable, he's the one that put her in a position to say yes, he's the one that talked her into a relationship when she tried to politely decline in her own way. She wasn't ready, she isn't ready, she may never be ready- she only wants Santana. And Trouty should've known what he was getting into- he watched Brittany and Arty fall apart, he watched Brittany cheat on Arty because she couldn't stay away from Santana, he watched Santana cheat on him because Santana couldn't stay away from Brittany- why, why, why did he think things would be different?

He's just a stupid boy.

Would they always be just a stupid boy to Santana?

Brittany gasps in Santana's mouth as she feels the smaller girl push her underwear to the side and enter her with two fingers. She's ready- she always is when Santana's around- but the sudden intrusion takes her by surprise. She reaches to yank Santana's ponytail out quickly, tangling her fingers in the smooth, dark locks. Brittany grips hard, pulling Santana deeper into the kiss, dominating Santana with her tongue as Santana dominates her between her legs.

Santana plunges into Brittany again, harder, and Brittany breaks the kiss to gasp again, louder. Don't you have a girl in Louisville to fuck? She blurts, half in anger at all her conflicting feelings. Then she moans. Oh, God-

What's your point? Santana growls into Brittany's jaw, teeth nipping into Brittany's skin, and Brittany feels her heart twinge painfully- Santana didn't deny it. But Brittany already knew, and Brittany's underneath Sam, too, and-

You left me, Brittany accuses, hating herself for bringing all of these feelings up now, but her walls are up even though she's completely at Santana's mercy, completely exposed, and the oxymoronic emotions combined with Santana's fingers sliding through her wetness- sliding into her- are making her dizzy, making her thoughts race, making her head spin.

Because I was hurting you, Santana pants, pushing into her with more force, and Brittany takes it, takes it, takes it.

You don't think this- fuck- hurts me worse? Brittany claws at Santana's neck, holding tightly. Her body is tensing, her hips move with Santana's thrusts. I can't get over you-

I don't want you to get over me!

Then- what- do you want? Brittany's breathless, Brittany's close, so close, and she buries her face in Santana's neck, bracing herself. Don't stop, don't- San- Santana-

I want you, Brittany, Santana says, just as breathless, just as close to breaking, but differently. I just- want- you.

Brittany closes her eyes, bites down on Santana's shoulder as her hips thrust forward violently and she comes, her body arching off of the brick and into Santana. She shakes, pants, clutches Santana tightly. Santana holds her for a moment before she pulls away; the expression on her face catches Brittany's attention as she leans, gasping for air and trembling, against the brick- a mess.

Santana looks lost, helpless, scared- like a trapped animal. Brittany watches Santana's throat as she swallows thickly and in a shaky voice, confesses, I've only ever wanted you.

Brittany feels her own throat tightening, feels tears springing to her eyes as Santana turns to leave, reluctant but quick, as if she'll break down if she stays one more second.

But Brittany doesn't have the same restraint. She breaks down immediately, the overwhelming emotions and the aftershocks of her orgasm still pulsing through her. She's still shaking; she's still raw, exposed, vulnerable, and she won't just let Santana walk away, not again, not right now.

Then why? Brittany calls, her voice cracking. She releases a shuddering sob. Why did you leave? Brittany knows she's giving herself away- that Santana will be able to see all her insecurities, will be able to see that no, she's not okay with this, she's never been okay with this, she's never wanted this-

Because you need more than I can give you! Santana turns abruptly, nearly yelling the angry words at her, as if it's Brittany's fault that Santana left, as if it's Brittany's fault that Brittany needs more. Brittany doubts herself for second- is it her fault? Did she make it seem like she needed more from Santana? She needed more- yes, but it was only things that Santana could give her. It was only Santana she needed. Why couldn't Santana see that?

But Santana doesn't stop to address Brittany's insecurities. You need more, she repeats. Which is why we are unofficial. Which, she says in an increasingly angry tone, is why I haven't smothered Trouty in his sleep with his own humongous lips for even looking at you. I can't stand the thought of him touching you, Britt. But I can't- I can't give you- she pauses, closing her eyes in anguish and shaking her head slowly. She takes a deep breath, stepping forward, moving back into arm's reach. But I can't be completely without you, Britt-Britt, Santana admits, shakily. She offers her a watery smile. You're the one that I want.

Brittany laughs, but it comes out sounding more like a sob, and reaches to wipe her eyes. Being mature sucks, she says lightly, but the sadness and truth of the statement rings true.

Brittany watches as Santana gently wipes a tear from her own eyes and nods. Yeah. It does. Santana reaches for Brittany's hand, holds it reverently a moment, strokes her thumb over the back of it and both of their eyes fall to their clasped hands as if it's the most magical scene they've ever witnessed.

Santana takes another deep breath and looks up into Brittany's blue eyes, shiny with freshly cried tears. Brittany's heart pounds in her chest at the intimate eye contact, at the warmth of Santana's hands. I have some clothes in my car, Santana starts- soft, cautious.

Brittany smiles, because she understands Santana. She has always understood Santana. And she understands when Santana is telling her- if Brittany wants to- to ditch her just a stupid boy at this stupid dance and get a milkshake with Santana instead.

And Brittany nods, squeezing Santana's hand and lacing their fingers together more securely. Because in the end, Sam is just a stupid boy, and Santana is her forever- is her everything- and there are some things Brittany is willing to give up, but there are some things- like Santana, and milkshakes, and unofficial- that Brittany is not.

I'm not sure if I'm gonna do one next week or not. I have an idea for one, but we shall see. But if I do, I hope you'll be here to read it, lol.

Review if you feel like it! :D

Thanks for reading, and don't ever give up on Brittana! :')