Brittany's late to class again. Her exhaustion from not sleeping only increased the day before, and then she stayed up later than she probably should have, talking to Santana and cuddling Lord Tubbington.

Sometime past midnight she'd finally fallen asleep, Santana still on the line.

She hadn't meant to ignore her alarm, but the sound was so grating all her tired mind could do was instruct her to turn it off before slipping back into a peaceful sleep.

"Brittany," her mother said.

The voice jolted her from sleep, and she blinked at the doorway. Her mom stood, leaning against the frame, eyebrows knit slightly, a steaming cup of tea in her hands.

"It's seven-twenty," she said calmly, with just a hint of confusion. Brittany leapt from her bed—but the cover over her legs went with her, twisting around her legs, and she tumbled onto the floor.

Soft, warm hands gripped her arms, and she let her mom help her up. Brittany continued to stand there as her mother swept back her messy hair, and then brushed her forehead with the back of her hand.

"If you weren't feeling up to going to school you should have—"

"No," Brittany said, shaking her head. "It's just, my alarm..."

They stood there, looking at one another, and then her mom nodded. "Your sister is downstairs, I'll drive you to school."

"Thanks, Mom," Brittany said. Her mother smiled again before leaving the room.

As she's sitting in first period, not paying attention to all the math that will probably be important for a test soon, a blurry memory flashes through mind: Santana's name on the screen of her phone.

It's very rare for Brittany to pull out her phone during class—except in those few where they're allowed to listen to music—because she doesn't have much reason. But, now, with the dim, insistent picture of Santana in her mind, she can't help it. She's curious.

She looks around at her classmates first, some listening to the lesson, others trying to hide the fact that they're sleeping, but none paying attention to her. She watches her teacher for a few seconds, and then slides her phone out of her pocket.

And there it is, a little blue light flashing at the top of her phone, and then Santana's name.

She opens the text, and even though it was sent at nearly one in the morning, it says Good morning.

She wants to stare at it longer, let her mind absorb the words, but Ms. Bletheim is pretty much the worst teacher to have catch you with your phone, so she slips it back into her pocket, still smiling to herself.

In fourth period, Mr. David reminds them that they start presenting their budgets today—which Brittany forgot all about. Luckily, she finished hers the previous week.

Mr. David calls the first person to present, which is one of the things she appreciates about his class—the structure, the consistency. He uses alphabetical order, A-Z one time and then Z-A the next, which puts her somewhere in the middle of all the presenters and, most times, allows her get it over with on the first day.

She doesn't pay much attention as Aaron starts to present. Instead, she searches through her mess of a binder for her own work, and then looks over it, trying to remember what it's even about.

"Wade Adams," Mr. David calls, and Brittany lifts her eyes, waiting.

"It's Unique," Unique says, standing from her seat. Mr. David mumbles an apology as she makes her way to the front, and then clears his throat and tells her to start.

Brittany listens, but doesn't take in much meaning. Only seconds into Unique's presentation, the boy sitting a row over in front of Brittany starts talking.

Unique does not stop, nor look at him.

Brittany can't help but listen.

"So he's a girl today?" Jared snickers. "Wait." He pauses. "Is he allowed in the girls bathroom?" He looks around at his friends, grin widening like he's about to say something amazing. "I think I might try to be a girl, too..."

Unique's voice falters as the front of the class tries to smother their laughter, and Brittany stares daggers into the back of his head.

It was fairly new—Unique actually being Unique. For a while, she kept going back to being Wade, because it was easier, probably—when she showed up to Glee practice in a dress, the news spread like wildfire, and it was all people could talk about for a week—but Brittany could tell it made her uncomfortable, that it wasn't what she really wanted.

(She doesn't know why people have to be mean just because they don't understand.)

"Shut up."

Unique stops this time. Jared slowly turns his head, his face scrunched and eyes slightly confused. He looks Brittany over like he has no idea where she came from, like he has no idea what's happening.

(Did she just say that?)

The room is so quiet, so still, that for a moment, Brittany thinks she may have frozen time.

"Thank you, Unique," Mr. David says, even though she hasn't finished. Brittany looks up, and for a moment she meets Unique's eyes. "You may sit down." Unique nods, and then looks away from Brittany and returns to her seat.

Mr. David calls the next name, but Brittany lowers her eyes to her desk and doesn't look away until her own name is called.

Apart from the teacher, when Brittany walks to the front of the class for whatever assignment she happens to be doing, her classmates usually stop paying attention.

But today, they don't. Today, as she walks to the front of the class, as she stands there, she feels eyes on her. The room is quiet but for her voice and a few mumbled words, She keeps her eyes on her paper, on her fingers gripping it, and tries not to look up.

She speaks too low, but Mr. David says nothing.

The bell rings not much later, and Mr. David doesn't stop the class from getting up and walking out of the room.

Brittany doesn't finish her presentation, either.

Brittany, for the most part, likes to just get to and from classes. She doesn't like the hallways—not when they're full of people, anyway. That's not to say she likes the classes, she just hates them less.

Yet, as she walks to her locker now, she drags her feet. She puts away her Economics binder, and then her book. She takes out her English binder, and then her book. She waits for a couple of people to walk past, and then starts dragging her feet toward English.

She doesn't make it far.

She's hit twice—from the front and the side—with a cold mass of slushy. Her feet stop, her legs locked into place, and she hears the loud clap of a high-five.

The syrupy mess slides down her face, down her shirt. It drips down from her hair onto her arm and into her ear. It slithers around the curve of her nose, and her eyes twitch, clenching tighter.

She flinches when something touches her hand.

"It's okay," a soft voice says. A small, warm hand takes hers again. "I want to help you."

Brittany hesitates, but she doesn't pull away, and when the hand tugs at hers, she lets it lead her away.

They walk a little ways down the hall and pass through a door. Brittany stands there stiffly, unsure what to do, when the other hand releases hers. She relaxes slightly when she hears a faucet turned on, the water rushing out.

"Come here," the person—a girl—says. Brittany takes a cautious step forward. Something warm and wet touches her face, and she's a second away from jerking back when she realizes it's just a wet paper towel.

"Does it hurt?" the girl says, sounding concerned.

Brittany's brow furrows. She gives a tiny shake of her head.

The paper towel touches her face again, cooler this time, but still warm compared to the ice on her skin. The girl makes slow, gentle swipes around her eyes first.

When the air brushes Brittany's face, and the sickness is gone, she opens her eyes.

The creases in her face only deepen. In front of her, sitting on the counter next to the sink, is a slender girl with long, light brown hair—the new girl.

She smiles at Brittany.

"You're Sugar, right?" Brittany asks, regretting it immediately as some not-quite-dry syrup makes its way into her mouth.

"Wait," Sugar says, smile widening like she wants to laugh. Brittany tries to relax her face, but it's hard when, without warning, Sugar brings a new, freshly wet paper towel to the corner of her mouth, and wipes it across her lips. "Yeah, I'm Sugar."

Brittany only frowns back at her.

Why is she even helping her? Doesn't she know that it's a horrible idea—that Brittany isn't exactly this school's favorite person, if that wasn't obvious by the whole slushy thing that just happened?

"I thought it was totally cool, what you said in there."

Brittany's eyes snap up. She just stares, and then she has to think back, trying to remember if this girl is even in that class or not. She hasn't really been paying much attention in her classes, but she figures she must be.

(How else would she know?)

Sugar lifts her arm, and Brittany realizes she's still working, still trying to clear all the slushy away. Brittany looks up and Sugar meets her gaze. She smiles again.

Brittany looks down to the arm being cleaned. The blue and red from the different slushies has mixed on her arm, creating streaks of purple.

(If it didn't feel so gross, it might look kind of good.)

She can do this herself, she does all the time—yet here she is, standing there, letting a stranger do it.

They both startle as the bell rings.

When it stops blaring, Sugar looks at Brittany again, her lips spreading into a mischievous grin. "Do you want to stay in here?" she asks.

Brittany considers her and then, finally, she smiles back. "Okay."

Sugar's grin morphs into a broader, more excited one. "Perfect!" she says, "I haven't skipped any classes yet, anyway."

Brittany can't say that she even cares she's skipping, that she could get in trouble. In fact, she's a little bit relieved to not be returning to English.

"First," Sugar says, tearing off a new piece of paper towel and wetting it, "let's finish cleaning you up."

Brittany's reminded of the syrup sticking to her skin and nods quickly. "I can—"

"Come here," Sugar says, tugging her closer. Brittany doesn't have a chance to protest before Sugar's wiping at her skin again.

Sugar glances up at Brittany frequently as she rubs hader at her skin, the syrup slightly harder to remove since it's had time to dry, but it doesn't hurt—she's used to it. She's pretty good at getting it all cleared before it dries, but she doesn't mind.

Once Brittany's almost as sticky-free as she can be, she steals the paper towel from Sugar. She moves back and lifts herself up onto the counter, sitting on the other side of the sink.

"What?" Sugar says.

Brittany shrugs, lifting the paper towel to her ear. "It's in my ear."

"Oh, sorry," Sugar says.

Brittany focuses on getting her ear clean.

When the bell rings for lunch, Sugar and Brittany slip off the counter and to their feet. Sugar turns to Brittany and smiles.

Brittany hesitates, and then says, "Thank you."

Sugar waves it off like it's no big deal, and then they walk out of the bathroom, just before a group of girls goes in. Their laughter brings Brittany back to reality, and she looks to the slushy stains on her clothes.

Sugar's looking, too. She smiles sadly, and then she's pulling off her jacket and handing it to Brittany.

"I'll see you later, okay?" she says, smiling brightly again. Brittany nods, staring at the jacket in her hand as Sugar walks away. She slips it on, zipping it up over her shirt, and then heads to her locker.

She's eager to get to the gym, thinking about Santana, thinking about Sugar. She can't get her mind to stop. She gives up on her locker and takes her books with her again. Her phone vibrates when she's halfway to the door, but she doesn't stop. She walks faster.

She's sitting on the gym floor before she knows it, dropping her books next to her and pulling out her phone.

Missed call

Santana

She presses call back.

"Hey," Santana answers.

"Hey," Brittany says, smiling. "Sorry I missed your call. I was having trouble with my locker and the combination and... I was still in the hall."

"Oh," Santana says. "Isn't it lunch, though?"

Brittany lies back, using her free arm as a pillow. "We're not supposed to use our phones," she says. "A lot of seniors get away with it, but I have a feeling if I tried I'd be expelled on the spot or something."

Santana laughs, and Brittany loves it.

Brittany closes her eyes, relaxing into the silence.

"What is it?"

"What?" Brittany says.

"What is your locker combination?" Santana asks.

Brittany pauses, and then digs the numbers out of her mind. "Nine, forty-seven, eighteen."

She waits, but all Santana says is, "Okay."

For some reason, this makes her smile. "What are you doing?" she asks.

Santana starts talking about homework, her roommates, and people coming over for a party Kurt insists on having.

Brittany forgets to mention Sugar.

Brittany sneaks off to her room when she and her sister get home. She's tosses Sugar's jacket onto her bed, thankful she had it, but more than ready to get out of her sticky shirt. She changes quickly before joining her mom and sister downstairs.

There's a platter of fruit, veggies, and hummus (and ranch for her sister) when she sits at the table. Her mom smiles at her as she reaches for the bell smiles back, and then pulls her phone to text Santana.

Brittany eats the majority of the bell pepper, but forces herself to stop when she notices the pile getting low. Her dad would be disappointed if she didn't leave him any.

She starts on the cucumber. Her mom shoots her a back off look, but Brittany slowly bites into the cucumber slice, and her mom grins.

By the time Brittany's sister has told them all about her day, and their mom asks about homework, she's eating cherry tomatoes and carrots. She bites into one last tomato before offering to help her sister—as long as she promises to stop eating celery.

Her sister giggles, but agrees, and then pulls it out of her backpack. Brittany spends the next half hour helping her sister with her homework instead of doing her own.

Santana sends her the last text of the night just after Brittany has dinner—the party is starting.

Have a good night, Brittany says, Tell Kurt hi for me!

After helping clean up, Brittany decides to join her parents and sister in the living room for a movie.

Her dad turn off the light, and she has the urge to run up to her room and grab Santana's blanket, but her sister's already picked a movie, and it's too late.

The picture fades in and the music starts up, and when it zooms in on DUMBO, Brittany realizes how long it's been since she's seen it; she hardly even remember anything about it except for who Dumbo is. She needs to expand her re-watching list.

With that thought in mind, she stretches out on the couch, settling in to watch.

Brittany's dad kisses both Brittany and her sister when the movie ends, and then steals a quick kiss from their mom before he heads toward his room. The rest of them head for the stairs.

Lord Tubbington trails behind them, but Brittany picks him up and carries him to her room, pausing at the top to say goodnight to her mom and sister.

She sets her cat and phone on the foot of her bed before stripping herself down to only underwear. She throws her shirt, bra, and jeans into her hamper and then finds her sleep clothes next to her bed where she'd left them in her hurry this morning.

She sits on the edge of her bed and grabs her shirt. She slips it on, and reaches back down—

Lord Tubbington purrs so loudly behind her she almost mistakes it for her phone. However, nobody besides Santana would be texting her—and a quick glance back reveals Lord Tubbington stretched out on Santana's blanket, kneading it happily.

She smiles at him and falls back, twisting slightly to avoid landing on top of him. He lifts his head to look at her, and then she lifts hers to lean over and kiss his nose. He resumes his kneading, and Brittany relaxes into her bed, watching him.

Not that she forgot, but it suddenly occurs to her that this is Santana's blanket, and she's borrowing it, and it now has cat hair all over it. She frowns at Lord Tubbington, but he doesn't take notice.

(Does Santana like cats?)

She'll have to wash it before...

(Before what?)

She's been too preoccupied to really consider it, but she misses Santana like crazy. She misses the excitement she felt with her. She misses the freedom.

Because here, she feels trapped.

Her house is safe, but not as it once was—now, after the relief of being out of school fades, she can't help but dread the coming day, having to go back and spend hours in a place she has come to loathe.

She sighs and lifts herself back up, trying to clear her mind, but as soon as she's upright, her eyes slide to the drawer of her table. She narrows her eyes at it, and then pulls it open.

She pauses for just a moment, and then lifts out the white, crumpled envelope. She holds it in her lap.

(It's worse, because of this.)

So many of the things that happened this week are reasons she wrote this letter, why she wanted to do it. Santana tore all that away, she gave Brittany a glimpse of the life she wanted. But now she's back, stuck in it again.

Santana's still here, still helping—and she can hardly believe Sugar today—and she's so grateful for the glimmer of hope, the light still shimmering within sight. She has to focus of that.

Without opening it, without doing anything but staring at it, resting lightly between her fingers, she places it back in the drawer. She pushes it closed.

(Santana knows, but nobody else does.)

For a minute, she's not sure what to do. It's the first night this week that she hasn't spent talking to Santana. And then Lord Tubbington nudges her, and she glances back, finding him settled in the most ball-like fashion he can manage against her hip. She smiles, running her hand down his back.

Brittany turns back, grabbing her remote from the table, deciding to watch a movie. She lies back, fitting herself in the space next to her cat, and turns on the TV. She doesn't want to get up, so she just plays the movie that's already in there.

When she tries to lightly tug Santana's blanket out from under Lord Tubbington, he looks up at her, disgruntled, but doesn't move. She throws the blanket over her legs and settles back into her pillows.

Brittany frowns, annoyed at the sound that's waking her up. She feels like she just went to sleep.

Which she kind of did, because it's only a little past one in the morning, and her phone is ringing.

But when she answers and Santana greets her with a long, drawn out, "Hey," her annoyance falls away.

"Hey, Santana," Brittany says, settling back into her pillows and blankets.

"Hey," Santana repeats, and Brittany giggles. Lord Tubbington lifts his head and crawls toward her.

"My rose is dead, Britt," Santana whines.

Brittany frowns, trying to push Lord Tubbington back as he rubs his head against her face. "What?"

"The rose you got me," Santana mumbles, her voice unsteady. "It died."

"Oh,"Brittany says, making a note-to-self to remember to get another as soon as she can.

"I'm so... I want to kiss you again, Brittany. I wanna..."

"Are you drunk?" Brittany asks, smiling as she pets an insistent Lord Tubbington.

"No," Santana says distractedly. "Sam's here. Remember when you were here? You said I was beautiful... but you are. And I just... I hate Ohio."

"Santana," Brittany says, her voice low, full of adoration.

"Oh shit," Santana says too loudly, causing Brittany to pull the phone away from her ear. "Shit," Santana says again, quieter. "You have to sleep!"

Someone on the other end calls Santana's name, and for a moment all Brittany can hear is a conversation she can't understand. And then Santana's voice returns.

"'Cedes says I have to go," Santana mutters, and it sounds like she's pouting.

Before she or Santana can say anything else, a few voices shout, "Bye, Brittany!" and then the call ends.

Brittany holds Lord Tubbington to her and kisses his head, not sure what to think about the call.

She puts her phone back on her table. She grins, thinking back on Santana's words. She hadn't wondered about drunk Santana before, but now she wants to know more. There's so much they don't know about each other.

(She wants to be with Santana again.)

She closes her eyes, smiling to herself as she lies there, trying to go back to sleep.

You guys are wonderful. Thank you for reading and reviewing.

I didn't think to mention it on here last time, because everywhere else I've put it, it's been ignored, but...

I'm working on a new fic and I've been thinking about getting a beta for it (or for this one, I suppose, if anyone wanted). So if anyone's interested... message me on here or tumblr.