There's only one game left of the first qualification campaign and with just three points in the table, it's a must win. Of course there's still plenty of time, there is still fourteen games to play, but they can't afford to drop anymore points considering they're sat at sixth in the table and as harsh as it sounds, it's not good enough, not if they want to qualify, after all only the top three teams are guaranteed a place in the competition with the fourth going to a playoff which is something no one wants to risk.

Then there's the possibility that this also may be the last time they all get to be a part of the team. No one's spot in the squad is safe, it's something everyone has experienced before, some more than others, it's easier to get dropped from the team than it is to get into it. Players get injured or they underperform for a few games or they get sick and they're replaced with someone else. It's something Brittany has been aware of since she was a kid and got dropped to the bench for a month after she sprained her finger. Obviously back then it wasn't as serious as being dropped from an international team but at the time it made her cry for a week straight, the only thing that cheered her up was the promise from her mom that she would finally get a cat.

(She didn't.)

She's seen it happen with her teammates, with her friends, with Santana. Once they would get an injury they would be out and replaced before they would even leave the treatment room.

It's also how Brittany got the call up in the first place, there was a lack of uninjured American goalkeepers, well that and her impressive consistent form, which is something she needs to not fuck up in the next game, which after a heads up from ber coach she knows she's starting, if she wants to keep her place on the team

They had flown back to The States the day before, giving them just two days to recover and practice before playing the next game against Costa Rica.

It had been an uneventful journey, of course there was small buzz after their win against Jamaica but everyone had known no to celebrate just yet, not when there was another game right around the corner and everything was still to play for.

The team were under strict instructions from their captain to relax once they got back to the hotel, that they weren't allowed to leave their rooms unless it was absolutely necessary and to not, under any circumstance, disturb her, not even if someone's leg was falling off.

Brittany had noticed the way her captain had smirked at Tina, sitting beside her when she gave out her instructions, causing the defender to give her a small giggle. Brittany had assumed that they would be unofficially sharing a room, like they had every night, and wondered if she would be doing the same with a different brunette on the team.

The same brunette who hadn't left her side since they had left Jamaica, choosing to sit next to the blonde on both coaches and the plane, despite all of the empty seats. Brittany had wondered if maybe that night she spent holding Santana while she cried had been the turning point, that they would finally stop picking fights with each other, that they were actually starting to become friends, even if Santana hadn't spoken a single word to her since she left her hotel room the morning before.

Then she wonders if she'll receive another late night visit from the brunette and if she does what kind of night will it be? Another night of holding Santnaa while she cries over something that Brittany still isn't sure what? Maybe another night of releasing pent up sexual tension? That's something Brittany knows won't happen again. Not after how it ended last time, she knows it's not good for them, it was just something that they needed to get out of their system and they did.

Or maybe they could just sleep? Side by side, maybe even cuddling? For once with no one being hurt, with no shouting or tears. Santana may even stay for once and they could go and get breakfast together.

Brittany smiles at the thought.

Though she's not sure why.

Especially when she receives a scowl from the brunette beside her.


"I see you're still wearing my jersey." Brittany points out from her spot on the bed, watching as the Latina crouches, tying her laces, "Have you even washed it?"

Brittany's question had been answered a few hours after the team had returned to the hotel. She had just come back from the hotel spa after a well needed full body massage when she noticed Santana sitting on the floor outside of her hotel room. They hadn't seen each other since they arrived back at the hotel, going in the opposite direction once they had walked through the doors. Santana had asked if she could stay over once again and once again Brittany didn't say anything, instead she just held the door open for the Latina.

It had been uneventful. Santana watched TV while Brittany showered. They didn't talk, other than when Brittany asked if the brunette wanted her to hold her again, to which she was told "No."

So without a word or a single glance at the other, they slept side by side the whole night, not touching, other than the odd accidental brush, until Santana's alarm had blared way earlier than Brittany had hoped. Santana had told her that she needed to be up before the rest of the team so that she could get back to her room without anyone seeing her.

Santana doesn't reply. So what if she's worn Brittany's team's jersey with Brittany's surname on the back every time she's been alone? And of course she's washed it. The smell of Brittany being constantly around her was driving her crazy.

Standing up she shrugs the black and white material off, leaving her in just her sports bra.

"What are yo-" Brittany blushes, her eyes drifting down taut abs.

"Take it back." Santana says, throwing the jersey at the blonde who just hands it back.

"Keep it."

"No."

"Santana, ju-"

"No!"

"Why not? It looks good on you." Brittany winks, pulling at the collar of her shirt.

"Of course it does but it's not really gonna go down well when people see me wearing another team's jersey. I don't need to give my club another reason to hate me," Santana explains, paces around the hotel room, "Plus it has 'PIERCE' written in big ass red letters on the back."

"So?"

"So, I don't want people assuming things."

"What's there to assume?" Brittany questions, watching as Santana takes a seat at the bottom of the bed.

"People will assume anything if they're given the chance." Santana frowns.

"Do they assume stuff about you?" She asks, placing her hand on the brunettes.

"Brittany, my entire life is one big assumption." Santana answers, her hand pulling away, "Plus, I've tried the whole 'dating a teammate' thing and I will never make that mistake again."

"Oh." Brittany pouts, lowering her eyes, "Can I ask you a question?"

"No, I'm not gonna tell you who it was." The brunette says, reaching out to take a hair tie off a pale wrist.

"Why don't you leave?" Brittany wonders, making Santana pause as she gathers her hair in a ponytail, "The club, I mean. Why don't you go to a club that actually appreciates you and gives you game time? You're just wasting your talent there."

She expects a defensive reply, she expects Santana to walk away and not talk to her for the remainder of their time at the camp.

But she doesn't.

She stays sat on the edge of the bed, still shirtless, one leg folded under the other."I'd love to leave but I can't." Brittany can see the tears in her eyes.

"Why not? You had offers, didn't you?" The blonde asks, "There were rumors that loads of other clubs wanted you. Even Chicago."

"And that's all they were," Santana shrugs, playing with the strings on her sweats, "Just rumors. No one contacted me."

"What about France? They offered you a permanent contract right?" She knows they did. She had watched the press conference about it. "Why didn't you take it? You did great there."

"I know, and I loved it but I missed my family too much." Santana admits through a small smile, "I mean I still feel pretty alone but I felt so much worse when I was in Paris, at least here I have my mom and my brother."

"You're not alone, Santana." Brittany tells her, reaching over to wipe the tear from the brunette's cheek only for her hand to be gently pushed away. Brittany almost misses the hushed sorry. "You have the whole team behind you, you know that, right?"

"I'm not so sure they are."

She's probably right. She knows that Santana hasn't really made the best of efforts with the rest of their teammates. And she knows that her and Quinn had some sort of history that has made the two have some sort of rivalry. But Santana still deserves to have some support and she knows she's definitely not getting it from her club. Santana needs someone on her side for once.

"Well, you have me." Brittany offers, making the Latina look at her for the first time that morning.

The brunette smiles at her, "I appreciate that, britt, I really do, but it's not a good idea."

"What's not?"

"Me and you." She swallows, "We can't be friends."

"We can't?" Brittany falters, watching as Santana moves from off the bed, shrugging the jersey back on before walking towards the door, "You can't forgive me can you?"

"No."


They're up by a goal to zero, thanks to a head-shot from Phoebe, when Santana makes her way onto the field. It's the 65th minute and without having a single successful attack in the second half, they're desperate for a change up. So their coach subs off their captain, who gives the armband to Tina, and swaps the defensive midfielder for an attacking one.

They had yet to have a shot on target since the first goal that happened at just nine minutes and with Costa Rica coming close to an equalizer, the stadium had become quiet and Brittany could feel the anxiety from the home fans. They needed another goal so that they could put the game to bed.

Brittany watched from the edge of her box as Santana sprinted onto the field, ignoring Fabray's high five as the captain made her exit, pointing up field, shouting their coaches orders and tactics towards their other teammates.

Brittany knew that Santana was often a person that divided people's opinions. She was often at the center of drama and controversy, people either loved her or they hated her and Brittany could feel the atmosphere in the stadium change when the brunette entered the field in the all white US uniform, most had clapped at the switch, some even cheered. But it was hard to ignore the people who had booed and she knew that Santana could hear them too. She also knew that Santana would prove them wrong.

And she did. It's Santana's first touch of the game that sets up their first attack of the second half, after receiving a through ball from Tina, she crosses the ball straight through the Costa Rican back line towards Phoebe, setting the striker up for a head-shot which is flicked off the crossbar by the keeper, bouncing back into play only to be cleared by a defender.

The game pretty much continues like that for the next fifteen minutes, Costa Rica hardly get a chance to attack before the defenders in white come to the rescue, winning the ball back before passing it to the midfield, sometimes out wide, who then get the ball to Santana who always sets up the chance that could possibly double their lead.

But it never happens.

The ball bounces off the woodwork another three times before always being cleared, they've had four times as many corners in ten minutes then they had the previous seventy minutes, all leading to nothing other than another corner and all Brittany can do is watch as her teammates, the brunette number 10 especially, get more and more frustrated.

More changes are made for both teams. There's only ten minutes plus injury time left and after failing to get a second goal, Holly makes defensive changes, switching the two wingers for another center back and a defensive midfielder, changing the formation to a 5-3-1-1, looking to defend the one goal lead for the remainder of the game.

The opposing team do the opposite, bringing on another striker as well as an attacking midfielder, looking to find the equalizer before the final whistle.

The changes are made and the game restarts, the Costa Rican keeper taking a quick goal kick, forcing Alex and the number 14 in red to jump, fighting to win the ball in the air. The American center back wins the header, forcing the ball back down field only for it to go as far as an opposing midfielder who quickly passes the ball forward before Santana gets the chance to put a tackle in. Brittany watches as the ball moves from player to player. The ball always leaves their feet before the players in white can get a foot to it.

It's the most dangerous they've played all game and Brittany knows that there is no way she can concede yet another last minute goal that will make the team drop points in just her second game. Not if she wants to continue being in this team.

Smacking her gloves together she shouts at her back line to push as the other team, to close the ball down and to not let them get through.

But as they move towards the ball, marking man-to-man, there's a gap on the left wing, allowing their fullbacks to run into the space, both teams running into the US' half with Brittany moving onto her goal line, her eyes never leaving the ball.

There's players from both teams in the penalty box as the ball is crossed, beating Tina, and falling to a Costa Rican player who kicks the ball towards goal, forcing Brittany to stretch to push the ball away from the goal, with Alex kicking it out of play before anyone else can get a chance to shoot.

The 18-yard-box is surrounded by both sets of players as a long throw-in is taken, the ball flying into the box once more, but this time Brittany reaches it first, jumping up to catch the ball, crashing into bodies as she does so. The ball remains in her hands, waiting for her players to move up field before releasing it to Alex who runs with it.

It's not until the ball makes it to Jess in midfield when she notices that they're a player down.

And then she realizes who she knocked on the floor when she caught the ball.

"What the fuck is your problem?" Santana hisses as she picks herself off of the floor before shoving the keeper.

"What?"

"I said-" She shoves her again, "What the fuck is your problem?"

"Are you seriously doing this now?" Brittany chides, noticing that the game has paused, the ref running over to them.

"You need to watch where you're fucking going!"

"Santan-"

"The hell is going on?" The German referee asks, pulling on Santana's jersey slightly.

"Nothing." Santana shrugs her off, before glaring at the blonde as she walks off. Brittany just gives the ref a nod, telling her that everything's fine and to just continue the game.

The final whistle blows three minutes later, the score ending in 1-0, the teams shake hands, the crowd cheers and although she's just won her first international game as a starter all while keeping a clean sheet and although it's all Brittany has ever dreamed of, it's not how she thought it would be.

She watches as the rest of her teammates smile and hug each other, yet all she can focus on is a brunette who, once again, storms off down the tunnel alone.


"I wasn't trying to hurt you again, you know that, right?"

She had followed Santana shortly after the brunette had disappeared down the tunnel, leaving behind the on-field celebrations and post-game interviews with the rest of the team.

Santana was sitting on the bench in the locker room, her jersey thrown on the floor along with her cleats.

"So you did try to hurt me last time?" She counteracts, pulling the tape that had been wrapped around her ankles.

"No!" Brittany protects, the sound of her cleats echoing as she walks over to her locker, "Santana, when I'm on the field I do whatever I can to win the game, but I would never intentionally hurt someone to do that." She pauses, taking her own cleats and tape off. "I know what you think, Santana, but not everyone is out to get you. Especially not me."

"It doesn't change anything." Santana mutters, picking at the edge of the bandage on her knee.

"Were you hurt?" The blonde asks, concerned.

Santana rolls her eyes, "No, having surgery and having to learn how to walk again was awesome."

"I meant today." She gulps, "Did I hurt you today? When I fell on you?"

"Oh." Santana shakes her head, "I mean I'll probably have a sweet bruise tomorrow but fangirls seem to dig those so I don't really mind."

"Okay, so are we okay?"

"I told you there is no we."

"I know," Brittany starts, pulling her own jersey off, "But are we?"

"I don't know, are we?" Santana counters, now sat in just her shorts and sports bra, her hair no longer in a ponytail, her dark locks coming down to her shoulders.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know how I feel about you." Her arms are folded against her chest, "You know I don't like you but what about you?"

Brittany sighs, so much for making progress and being friends. "I'm fine with you, Santana."

"What even after I used you for sex?" Santana scoffs, "Twice."

She gulps. She had known the morning after the first time they had slept together all those years ago that Santana had just used her and sure she wasn't exactly happy about it. And she had expected it the second time and yet she still went along with it. Maybe deep down Brittany knew that she was using Santana too? But still, it still makes her stomach sink a little hearing it come out of Santana's mouth.

"It's not gonna happen again." Brittany states, throwing on a hoodie. "Plus I'm not gonna let something that happened off the field change the way I play. Like I said before, I would never intentionally hurt another player, no matter how I feel for them."

"So you do feel something for me?" The brunette smirks. "Anyways, it's not like we're gonna play together again."

"What do you mean?"

"Well this campaign has ended and like hell is Holly is gonna bring me back for the next one." Santana shrugs, standing up, "A suspension and a fight with my own teammate with no goals or assists, yeah I will never get to wear that jersey again."

"Santana, that's not-"

"Whatever, I don't need your pity. I gotta go to recovery. It was nice playing with you, Pierce." She winks, "Actually it wasn't but at least the sex was good."

Brittany sighs as she watches the Latina walk out the locker room right as the rest of the team start to come in.

"That was hell of a save you pulled off at the end, Pierce!" Quinn praises, giving the other blonde a high five before moving to her own locker.

"Thanks." Brittany smiles, turning to close her back before stopping when she realizes something that she definitely didn't have in there before the game.

Frowning, she pulls the item out along with a note.

don't worry i did wash it but it still smells like me. enjoy ;)

Looking at the black and white jersey in her hands she can't help but think that Santana could actually be right, they may never play again and after tomorrow there's a chance of never actually seeing each other again and that maybe she might finally be able to get Santana Lopez out of her head.