"Ugh, I am so wrecked," Santana moans.

"That's what you get for drinking your troubles away," Quinn sing-songs as she rifles through the other girl's fridge like she lives there. Honestly, she may as well.

Santana is face down on her island, Advil in front of her, clutching a half-empty glass of water. "Can we skip school?" she whines, her voice muffled from the cool marble.

"No, San. I want to go to a good college. Remember?"

"Oh yeah…the lowly little nerd, how could I forget?"

"Be quiet, and tell me where you hid the bacon."

They have known each other since Quinn moved into the house next to Santana's the summer before middle school. Back then, the brunette wasn't quite the bitch she is today, and Quinn eventually wriggled her way into her heart. They would walk to school together, eat lunch together, and hang out all the time. When high school came around, and Santana made Cheerios and Quinn joined the Brainiacs, the social hierarchy threatened their relationship, but somehow, they managed to persevere. Sure, they don't sit together at lunch anymore, but they're at each other's houses enough to make up for it.

"I don't have any more damn bacon. You ate it all yesterday, remember?"

"Saaan!" Quinn whines.

"I'll pick some up later."

"Ugh fine," she groans, grabbing a piece of toast. "Maybe we should just skip. I don't know how long I'll last without bacon in my system."

"Okay, one, that is nasty, and two, I just realized I can't. I have to do damage control with Puck."

"I don't understand why you're still with him if you don't even like him."

"Quinn, I've told you a million times: reputation."

Quinn rolls her hazel eyes. "Whatever, San. Now come on. We're going to be late."

Santana groans loudly as Quinn pulls her out of the house.

Despite her hangover, Santana struts down the halls of McKinley, alone. Most students don't dare to look at her, let alone speak to her. There are only a set amount of people she talks to besides her family: Quinn, Puck, Coach Sue, and some of the Cheerios. Then, there are people stupid enough to provoke her, namely Pierce, JewFro, and…

"Hello Santana! I was wondering if you would reconsider my offer to join our school's Glee Club. As you know, we won our Sectionals last year, and this year, we are—"

"Look, dwarf. For the last time, I don't want to join your gay leprechaun clan. I don't sing, and you don't talk to me." Fucking Rachel Berry is always asking her to join that goddamn loser of a club.

"But I—"

"RuPaul, if you're not gone in the next two seconds, I guarantee that you will become a slushy rainbow." Rachel's eyes widen as Santana glares at her. "Now get the fuck out of my way."

Rachel hesitates for a second. "You know, Santana, you have wonderful talent. Maybe if you took the time to explore it, instead of fretting about the social ladder of a dreary Lima High School, you'd see that."

Santana is stunned, so much so that she gives Rachel a small window of opportunity to scurry off before she can unleash her wrath. Once she's gone, the Latina can't help but wonder if she's losing it. First Brittany, now Rachel freaking Berry? At least Brittany has some sort of reputation. Berry is at the very bottom of the food chain. Plus, there's the problem of Puck quickly becoming more and more difficult to maintain. This isn't how it's supposed to be. Shaking her head, she heads to class. She needs to get her edge back, or she'll be at risk of a dethroning as queen of this dump.

As soon as Rachel power walks away from the head cheerleader, she spots her next target. "Hello Brittany! I was wondering if you would reconsider my offer to join our school's Glee—"

"Just stop, Rachel." The blonde waves her off. Disheartened, Rachel pouts; at least Santana had let her start the second sentence. Rachel knows if she can get at least one popular person to join, the rest will surely follow. Slamming her locker shut, Brittany continues, "You're a sweet girl, Rach, but I'm not joining your club."

"But I attended your dance competition last month, and I have to say that—"

"Whoa, hold up. You saw my dance competition? You realize that was in Dayton, right? Are you stalking me or something?" No one knows about her dance classes and competitions. People assume that she's just an exceptional club dancer, which she is.

"No Brittany. I was also there for a dance competition. For ballet, of course, although I admire your advanced work and choreography in both the Contemporary and West Coast Swing categories. You would be perfect to dance behind me in Glee. Besides, we even have a suitable partner for you—"

"Mike Chang, I know. We talk sometimes, and we had sex before he got with his cousin," Brittany replies offhandedly.

"Tina's not his cousin."

Brittany stares at Rachel quizzically. "Oh."

"Anyways, I really think you should consider it."

"I'll tell you what, Rachie. You let me under that short plaid skirt, and I'll join your club," Brittany says with a knowing smirk.

Her intended effect is immediate: Rachel turns as red as a tomato. "Brittany, I…while I'm flattered, I-I'm really saving that for the perfect person."

"What a shame," the blonde sighs, actually a little disappointed. She hasn't been with a virgin in a while. "Oh well, I'll see you around."

Before Rachel can say or do anything, the blonde is already on her way to her next class. As Brittany doodles in her notebook, not paying attention, a note is slipped in front of her. She looks up, and the boy next to her points to a decently hot girl she hooked up with before who is now giving her bedroom eyes. Smiling back, Brittany opens the note.

Breadstix tonight at 7?

Brittany writes down a single word before passing it back.

Yes.

After class, Puck approaches his girlfriend. He has a lot on his mind and is ready to voice his opinion, but not here. "Hey Santana, would you like to go to Breadstix with me tonight?" he asks, half-hopeful. He still isn't totally sure if the decision he made is the right one.

"Sure," Santana says passively.

Puck sighs; it's like she doesn't even care about him anymore. They were friends once, but now…

"Look, Puck. I'm sorry about last night. I just had a little too much to drink, okay? I promise I'll make it up to you," she says flirtatiously, running her hand down his arm.

Puck almost gives in. Almost. "Santana, this isn't just about sex for me!" his voice rises. Why does she always seem to think that? Sure, at the beginning of their relationship, he acted like the horny teenage boy he is, but that doesn't mean he doesn't care about her.

"Can you keep it down? People are staring," she hisses.

"Fine. Whatever. I'll pick you up at 6:30."

"Okay. See you then." Santana watches as her boyfriend storms down the hall. What is his problem? Seriously, she already said she'd take care of him. What more does he want from her? She wishes there were someone better she could replace him with, but no. She is stuck with Noah Puckerman. As she walks to her next class, AP Biology, her phone vibrates in her hand.

From Quinn: I heard something went down in the hallway between you and Puck.

To Quinn: That literally happened two seconds ago! WTF? Hold on.

Stashing her phone in her bra, she walks into the classroom and takes her seat next to Quinn. "How do you already know that?!" she demands.

"Jacob just updated his blog." Quinn shows her her phone, opened to the blog, where the title "School Power Couple Spotted Having a Spat. Trouble in Paradise?" flashes across the homepage.

"I'm going to kill that little rat."

"Save the murdering for later. Tell me what happened!"

"Can't you just read it on his stupid site?"

"San…"

"Okay, okay." Santana rehashes the conversation in detail, Quinn nodding along as she speaks. "It's no big deal. We're going out tonight," Santana finishes, then shrugs. Quinn's eyebrows raise in that "are you kidding me?" look. "What? Don't give me the Quinn look."

"Santana, I think you might be in trouble."

"What? Why?"

Quinn hesitates, wondering if she should ease her friend into her conclusion or just rip it off like a Band-Aid. "I'm pretty sure he's going to break up with you." Band-Aid it is.

Surprised, Santana looks at her before breaking out into laughter. "Please! He would never. He needs me just as much as I need him."

"San, I think you need to think about this rationally. Just look at all that has happened. From what you told me, it's—"

"Q, stop, okay? I appreciate the concern, but Puckerman would never," Santana says defiantly.

Quinn gives her one last disapproving glare before sighing and looking away. "Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you."

Brittany dances around to music as she gets ready for her date. She doesn't want to look like a slob, but she also isn't trying to impress too much. Deciding on skinny jeans and a v-neck that makes her boobs look amazing, she grabs her wallet and heads out.

"Britty?" a tiny voice calls.

The blonde whirls around with a smile on her face. "Hey T, why are you up?" she asks, scooping her sleepy brother up in her arms and walking towards his bedroom. Little Tommy is six years old and the cutest, sweetest kid in the world.

"I couldn't sleep."

"Well, you sure look tired!" Brittany observes, wanting to get the real answer.

"I wanted to see you before you left on your date. You look really pretty, and I miss you."

Brittany's heart melts as she tucks the boy in. "Aww, thanks kiddo. I miss you too, but school has been really tough on me lately. I promise we'll hang out tomorrow, okay?"

"Mmkay," he says, yawning.

Brittany kisses his forehead before standing back up. "Bye T, I love you," she whispers as she closes the door.

"I love you too!"

After hurrying out of the otherwise empty house and to her bike, she drives off to Breadstix. When she arrives, the girl is already seated and waving her over. She starts walking over with a smirk before her eyes land on something else, making her stop dead in her tracks. None other than Santana Lopez and Noah "Puck" Puckerman are seated in the booth behind them, so when Brittany sits down, she'll be back-to-back with the Cheerio. Puck glances at her before quickly looking away, and Santana turns to see what caught his attention. Her eyes widen.

"Brittany! Over here!" the girl yells.

As the blonde slides into the booth, she can practically feel the Latina's presence behind her. They haven't exchanged any hateful glares or witty retorts since the party, almost as if they have some sort of silent agreement. The girl across from her starts talking, but Brittany can't help but eavesdrop on the slightly more interesting conversation going on behind her.

"Look, Santana. You obviously think I only want sex from this relationship."

"It's fine. We knew from the start of this that we were just using each other."

Brittany can only imagine the look on Puck's face right now. "Wh-what?" the boy stutters.

"Well yeah, I thought that's why we agreed to do this. You wanted satisfaction, and I wanted a boost on my popularity."

"That's why you said yes to me?!"

"Well…yeah."

"You know what, San? Maybe if you stopped thinking about your fucking reputation, you'd see that I actually like you!"

Brittany's eyes widen in shock, matching Santana's expression. Santana had no idea Puck actually liked her.

"But you know what? If that's how you really feel, then I don't think I can be part of this 'agreement' any longer. I'm out."

"What? No! You can't be. I need you!" Santana has never begged before, and this is as close as she will ever get.

"Yeah, well, I don't need you. I can't believe I ever fell for you," Puck spits out darkly.

Santana looks around in desperation, only to see that most of the people in the restaurant have their eyes on them. There is no way she's going to let Puck win this; she has to find a way to hurt him more, make him look like the bad guy. "Fine! That's fine, because I've been cheating on you!" As soon as Santana screams it, she covers her mouth with her hands. Where the hell did that come from? It's the first thing that came to her mind.

"You did what?" Puck asks, trying not to look hurt.

That's how Santana knows she made the right choice. "Well, yeah. You never got me to finish. I had to take my sexual frustration out somewhere." She shrugs nonchalantly.

Puck mimics what she did earlier, looking around to see who is watching. "No way," he says in disbelief. "You wouldn't have the balls to do that."

"Are you kidding? You obviously don't know me at all."

"Who? Who was it?" Puck demands.

"I don't have to tell you." She's biding her time, desperately trying to think of someone who is worthy, a name that will make Puck hurt even more.

Puck smirks smugly. "See, now I know you're lying. That's really pathetic, San. I was right to break up with you."

As he starts to stand up, Santana racks her brain for an idea. Then, it hits her. Who's more badass than Puck? Who gets more lays than Puck? Who's hotter than Puck? "I'm sleeping with Brittany."

Puck's jaw drops (along with every other person in the room), and Brittany's fork clatters to her plate. Suddenly, she feels a hand grip hers, and she looks up to see Santana smiling at her.

"See, babe? I told you I'd tell everyone," the brunette says.

Shocked, Brittany just looks at her. What the fuckity fucking fuck?

Lightly tugging at her hand, Santana brings her to her feet, then into the booth next to her, across from Puck.

"You have got to be joking! There's no way you like her," Puck snarls.

Santana glares at him, then smiles sweetly at the blonde. "Tell him, Britt, how long we've been secretly seeing each other. How we fucked in Karofsky's upstairs bathroom last night." On the outside, she maintains her cool facade, but inside, she's panicking. Her whole reputation is banking on what the blonde is about to say.

Brittany is so fucking confused. Santana — the same Santana who makes sure to tell her she hates her on a daily basis — now wants to pretend that they're in a relationship? Staring at the Latina, she suddenly sees the proverbial light. While Santana is acting all coy and smug, her eyes are singing a different tune. Before Brittany's mind can even process her response, she opens her mouth. "We've been going out for a month now," she says, putting her arm around the Latina's shoulders. Santana makes a show of leaning into her. "In fact, last night, she faked being sick so she could be with me. I begged her to come and fuck me, and of course, she's so pussy-whipped she came running."

"So when we were…you left for her?" Puck asks in outrage.

"Yup, that's right," Santana sneers.

"This is…this is bullshit!" he screams, slamming his hands down on the table, making both of the girls jump.

Someone clearing their throat causes the three of them to look up. The manager is staring at them, arms crossed. "I'm sorry, but you are causing a public disturbance. We are going to have to ask you to leave."

"Fine. No problem," Puck snarls, grabbing his jacket and storming out of the restaurant.

Santana stares after the last three years of her life and can't help but feel…relieved. "Show's over, guys!" she addresses the still-watching crowd.

"Come on, babe, let's go," Brittany almost growls. Still acting her part, she grabs Santana's hand. When she turns around, she is met with a slap to the face.

"You suck!" Brittany's outraged date storms off as well.

Brittany feels a cool hand on her stinging cheek. "You okay, baby?" Santana asks.

Holding back a glare, Brittany refrains from slapping her hand away. She is going to make Santana pay for this. "Fine," she says through gritted teeth.

As they're about to leave, however, the manager stops them. "Excuse me. You both have yet to pay for your meals."

He hands Santana the check, who in turn gives it to the blonde. "Honey, I seem to have forgotten my wallet."

Oh, fuck no. Brittany forces herself not to scream in frustration and hands the guy $60, which is barely enough to cover all four of their meals. "Come on!" she seethes. As soon as they're out of everyone's sight, Brittany turns on Santana. "What the hell was that?"

"I'm sorry, okay?! My reputation was at stake, and I panicked!"

"Why the fuck did you say we were dating?"

"You're the only person who's more badass than Puck. The school would go crazy, knowing I'm the one who tied you down. It makes Puck dumping me null and void."

Brittany stares at her, wondering just how she became so manipulative and twisted. "You're insane. I'm leaving," Brittany says, shaking her head.

"No, wait! You can't just leave!"

"Why not? Haven't you used me enough?"

"Our little act is probably all over town by now. If we don't show up to school tomorrow as a couple, I'll be ruined!"

"Not everything is about popularity, Santana," Brittany sighs before turning around to walk away.

Santana grabs her arms and tugs so that they're facing each other again. "Brittany, please! I need this. I'll do anything," she says desperately.

"Why the hell should I do anything for you? We can't stand each other."

"I'll be nicer. Look, I don't like this any more than you do. You think I want to pretend I'm head over heels for you? It's not even realistic, but I can't take it back."

"Oh yeah, I can see you're definitely going to be nicer," Brittany chuckles humorlessly.

Santana holds back an eye roll. "Please, just act like you're my girlfriend for a week, and then I can break up with you."

"What? You get to break up with me? Why can't I break up with you?"

"Because my—"

"Your reputation. Of course." Brittany rolls her eyes. Then, she takes a moment to think about it. "You know what? Fine. I'll do it."

"You will?" Santana asks, shocked.

"Yup. I'll pretend to be your girlfriend, on one condition."

Santana waits as the other girl stays silent. "Well? What is it?"

"I'm not sure what it is yet. I have to think."

"Well, hurry up!"

"God, my girlfriend is so impatient. I'll tell you what. When this is all over, you have to do one thing for me. Anything I say."

"What? That's stupid! No way in hell."

"Well then, I guess you don't have a fake girlfriend."

"Wait, no!" Santana says before groaning. "Fine. It's a deal."

"Awesome. Now should we seal it with a kiss?" Brittany teases. If Santana wants to be fake girlfriends, then she is going to go all-out and make sure the bitch suffers.

As Santana flips her off, the blonde just smiles deviously, and the cheerleader can't help but think…what has she gotten herself into?