"Welcome back to NBC's coverage of the 2014 United States Figure Skating Championships here in the lovely TD Garden building in Boston. I'm Rod Remington, your sports correspondent for tonight and with me is former Nationals silver medalist, Cassandra July. Thank you for joining me, Cassandra."

"Of course, Rod."

"Now, for you folks at home who are just tuning in, we're in the first day of competition here in Boston and the ice is hot tonight. Up now, we have the remainder of the Pairs' short program. For those who don't know, can you explain a little about pairs, Cassandra?"

"Sure, Rod. Well, like the name suggests, it's a pair of skaters, a man and a woman, who skate together. In a pair."

"Excellent, thank you, Cassandra. And we've already seen many excellent teams skate tonight, you can see the leader board there on the screen as the last round of skaters finish their warm up. There are some fierce competitors in this group, including last year's title winners, Scott Cooper and Missy Gunderson, who have been leading the US pairs team for two years. If they win tonight, it will be their third. This season-"

Brittany Pierce rocked up on her toe picks, sending any nervous thoughts out through the motion of her blades on the rubber mat below. To her right, she could see her partner, Mike Chang, stretching out his arms. He didn't need to. They were warmed up, stretched out, and had run a few jumps and a lift. Brittany had even already been through the short stretch routine she did every time before she stepped on to the ice and been given her final reassurance from her best friend. Everything was ready. They were ready. After a long year of training and a whole lot of hard work, they were ready to win this. Or, at least, place well.

Still, this was a big competition and, though they had done well last year, coming in above half of the other competitors, Brittany wanted to show everyone how much they had grown as skaters this year. She wanted to have a good performance and feel the electricity of the crowd. They had put in hours upon hours of training and conditioning and lifting and running and practicing all the time... Of course, she couldn't help but consider what winning this competition would really mean. Every year, the United States Figure Skating Association held a series of events leading up to the final championship, determining the best skaters in the country and the international team for the year.

And with the Olympics only a month or so away, it was a very good time to qualify for the international team.

Brittany turned to look at some of the spectators. She knew that the seats this far down, the people that she could see, they were expensive seats that sold out in hours. When Brittany had first moved to Boston at thirteen, she had begged her mother for tickets to sit that close, to be able to see every facial expression, every mark on the ice, to be able to live and breathe the sport she had devoted her life to. By chance, nationals that year had been in Boston, in the exact stadium she was in now, where one of Boston's biggest teams played regularly. Competitive spirit was alive in the building. Her mother had been able to get tickets, but only a few rows from the top. Brittany understood now why, considering the several thousand dollars that her mom would have had to spend, months before they had even moved, just to be able to sit in the seats she was looking at now.

It had been an amazing experience, all the same, even after Brittany's small disappointment to be so far away. Her mom had pointed out how they could see the layouts of the routine from their height, a bonus to sitting so far up in the stands. Brittany almost could still feel the way that she had squeezed her mom's hand tightly as she had watched the incredible lifts, jumps, and steps that she hoped someday to accomplish, feeling the grace and power as if it were her own.

Her very best friend, Santana Lopez, had sat beside her the whole time. It was almost an unspoken understanding between the two families that taking one meant taking the other. They'd had a medium popcorn wedged between their legs and followed the salty popcorn with sips from the red slurpies in their hands, shivering in their matching skate jackets. Brittany definitely could still remembered how Santana's bright red lips had made her smile look so sparkling and how they had stayed up half the night, whispering in their sleeping bags on Brittany's floor about their favorite routines and costumes they wanted to wear when they grew up.

And now, six years later, she was one of those people, one of those skaters doing daring feats and making them look easy so that hundreds of little kids in the audience and even at home watching on the big tv in the living room with their families would go to the rink the next day and beg their coach to learn how to do an axel, right now. Her skinny, too long legs had filled out, and she was the one with the grace and the power, for real.

That's what made it easy to send the nerves out of her toe picks for Brittany, just knowing that if Mike threw her up into the air, looking like it caused them no effort at all, and she landed cleanly, her back that perfect arch, her arms out, her smile on bright as her blade made a pleasant whisper on the ice, that she would inspire a kid like her. She would be able to tell them all about the joy that skating was.

A cheer broke her thoughts, bringing her back to the ice in time to watch the last few seconds of the previous program. It never really bothered Brittany to watch. It didn't matter how good or bad the other skaters did; it just mattered how well she did.

As the music came to a close and the announcer repeated the names of Blaine Anderson and Tina Cohen-Chang from Chicago, Brittany turned to look at Mike. He stuck his tongue out and scrunched up his eyes, causing her to laugh and cross her eyes back.

It was easy to skate with Mike. They always did their best, fought for a high score, but never let it get to them. If she stumbled or he missed a step, then they had a goal for the next time they worked. That was why they were still such a strong team, even after so many years as a pair. Skating well together, doing the absolute best that they could and improving when they couldn't, that was always more important than the final score. As the team before them left the ice, Mike took her hand and Brittany stepped out onto the ice.

It was always amazing, that first step onto the ice, feeling the friction and physics of every day life fall away, leaving nothing but her partner, herself, and a stretch of perfect ice. To some, the frozen surface might be unforgiving. To Brittany, it was freeing. It was peace. It was almost like home. They quickly fell into rhythm skating around the ice together, motions in synch like two cogs in a machine, waiting to hear their name so they could take their place in the center and begin.

A smooth voice came over the announcements, "Competing next and representing the Skating Club of Boston, please welcome Brittany Pierce and Mike Chang." Brittany gripped Mike's hand as they glided toward the center of the ice, arms out to the judges and huge smiles on their faces. Brittany felt her nerves rise for a moment, her stomach tight and her knees weak.

But then she took the opening pose, her back pressing into Mike's, one foot cocked up, her head tilted back, and she felt the energy of the crowd. Like a friend, waiting to see her do her best. Brittany's smile grew.

"Next up are Mike Chang and Brittany Pierce from the Skating Club of Boston. This is their second year at the senior level. Last year, they came in tenth place, didn't they?"

"That's right, Rod. They've been a team for the last six years and were able to scoop up both the novice and intermediate national titles. Two years ago, they won the silver medal at the junior level. These guys are definitely ones to watch though. They've been working hard all year and they've really got some enormous jumps and throws. I think they definitely are going to be big contenders for one of those top three spots."

"Absolutely, Cassandra, and you know, they're still fairly young. Brittany is nineteen, Mike is twenty-two, these are good competitive ages for pairs skaters, are they not?"

"Of course, yes. And the short is their strong routine, where they can shine with their technical strength. I saw pieces of this during practice earlier today and it's very exciting. Their struggle, though, is that emotionality, really selling the music, and I'm not totally sure they've learned how to do that."

"Well, we'll see how they do today, as they go ahead with their first big skill, a triple twist lift. Wow! I can see what you mean about that technical skill! Did you see the height on that?"

"Yes, they'll score a lot of points for that. His balance was good when he threw her up, she definitely made three clean revolutions in the air. It'll be up to the judges to determine, but I think they'll also get points for the way that he got his hands down before he caught her. It was really effortless."

"Wow, Cassandra, really, if they can keep that up for the rest of this competition, we might be looking at new champions."

There was no fighting the grin on Brittany's face, no matter if she and Mike were supposed to be fierce to match their pirate themed music. It didn't seem to matter how many times Shelby made them drill the emotions of the piece, how many times she had to explain about how Brittany and Mike were fighting to the death, trying to outmaneuver and outwit each other. When it came time for the competition, Brittany felt too much joy at the feeling of the ice to hide anything. And right now, she could feel them nailing every single move, their steps in between clean and together, nothing inviting loss of points. Mike was doing a slightly better job at glaring than Brittany was, probably because he enjoyed the part of pirate so much, but she wasn't sure that he would be able to keep the smile off his face as they moved into the next part.

It was easily their favorite sequence of the routine and they had practiced it until it was perfect and then practiced it some more, until even their coach had nothing to say. And when Shelby Cochran couldn't find a criticism, it was usually a good sign. As the music swelled and shifted, becoming heavier and more dire, they moved smoothly down from the lift. Brittany could feel Mike's hands changing position on her waist, waiting for the right beat, the right feeling before she tumbled forward out of the air, landing smoothly to the cheers of the crowd. She loved when a routine felt like this, like a perfect game of tetris, every piece falling precisely into place.

Brittany grinned at Mike, bringing up an imaginary sword and pointing it at him. He responded with the same movement, bowing at the waist before they took off, skating around each other, completing the same set of steps on opposite feet. It looked easy, Brittany knew, but the exact edges of their blades, the crossovers, the quickness and the closeness of their steps made it anything but. There were very few people in the world, much less the country, who could perfect a sequence like that. Halfway across the ice, passing over the logo in the middle, they "lost" their swords. Brittany's smile grew as she heard the audience clapping along to the beat of the music. She swung her arm towards Mike, who blocked it and returned the blow, moving together now.

She had been right about Mike. Once they got going, he was just as bad as she was. The grin on Mike's face matched hers as they fought, performing the complicated steps that were part of their trademark. After so much dancing outside of skating, it was no wonder they took the joy in those elements back to the ice with them.

Brittany could feel the energy of the audience, of Mike, of the judges, and knew they were going to really nail the rest of this routine, too. She could just feel it. Mike caught her fist, aimed for his face, spinning her around and falling perfectly into the correct hold, both skating backwards, their hands ready and gripping each other's. They completed their crossovers, each movement of their blades in perfect synch as they brought their left skates over, each stroke strong.

It was almost like time stood still for a moment, the crowd disappeared, as Brittany crossed her foot over once more, holding the position for a second before, perfectly timed with the music, she and Mike both uncoiled, extending and lifting.

Brittany soared off the ice, completing all three rotations with ease, before landing. Her blade made almost no noise, coming down on the ice exactly right. Brittany shot out her arms and her free leg, controlling her rotation easily with the perfection of the landing. If she hadn't been smiling before, she wouldn't have been able to stop herself now. The roar of the crowd told her everything she needed to know.

"Wow, what amazing height on that one. You know, Rod, Team USA might be looking at a great contender for Sochi in a month. The other pairs are really going to have to step up their game if they want to win out one of the spots over this team. They are absolutely on tonight."

"You're right, Cassandra. And- Oh, did you see who was just there on the screen, watching from the barrier? It looks like Santana Lopez is here."

"She definitely is. Lopez is a ladies single skater, but she never misses one of Pierce and Changs's routines. She and Pierce started at the same rink, didn't they?"

"Yes, Brittany originally came from a small club in Ohio, where Santana also started out. The two have been best friends and training together since they were four. Brittany has told us before that Santana is her good luck charm. If that's true, she's certainly working for them tonight! Did you see the togetherness on that jump?"

There wasn't much left now. Brittany had seen Mike out of the corner of her eye, pulling out of the jump at the exact same time as her, holding the landing for the same amount of beats, before they grabbed hands again, performing more crossovers to build power for their final spin. They were going to get big points for that jump. She hadn't seen Mike's take off, but she could tell from his landing that they had both managed three rotations. The spin they had left was pretty unique, but it was a partner spin, both of them together, and that meant that they didn't have to worry about keeping in synch with each other, because they were spinning as one.

Brittany could feel the energy of the crowd as the routine came to a close and it gave her the burst of energy that she needed to add a little extra speed to the spin. She felt Mike fit his hips behind hers, both of them spinning together, a leg stretched back and their bodies parallel to the ice. If this was the speed they were going for their camel spin, she couldn't wait to pull herself in and see how fast they began to spin when they were in a tighter position.

At the squeeze of his fingers, Brittany stood and brought her foot up, kicking over Mike's head as he moved down to a sitting position, low on the ice, his hands around her knee as she held her leg up straight. The change in position made them spin even faster, and Brittany's grin grew as the audience became a blur, only their applause and cheers to let her know they were still there.

She kicked down again as Mike rose, narrowly missing his head. That had always been her least favorite part of the routine, as she was so afraid of somehow kicking her partner and great friend right across the face with what was essentially a knife. However, when she had brought it up, Shelby had talked for a long time about how important it was to carry the theme throughout the routine and then had Brittany and Mike practice the spin twenty-five times in a row, until it was absolute muscle memory. It was still dangerous and Brittany was still careful when she did it, but she grew comfortable enough with it after so many times that she could be okay with it.

Brittany caught her foot behind her, bending back slightly as Mike's hands wrapped around her waist. They spun, quick and centered, until a few beats before the last, gliding out of the spin at the center of the rink. Mike dropped to one knee, and Brittany mimed kneeing him in the back, the final blow of the fight that had been their routine. Mike sprawled on the ice and Brittany struck her triumphant pose.

The cheers were deafening.

With a laugh, Brittany reached for Mike and helped pull him up, instantly wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. As much as she had felt the crowd while they were in the routine, felt how involved and excited they were, it wasn't until the very end, the cheers that they got that made her realize how connected they had felt. This was their hometown crowd, after all, and they clearly loved the routine.

Her heart singing with pride, Brittany took Mike's hand and bowed to each side of the rink, the gesture gaining an extra sweeping flair with her joy. She knew that was their best, no matter what the scores said. They couldn't have done the routine any better and they managed to do it in front of people who really cared about them and how well they did. They skated off to the side, Mike pausing to scoop a rose off the ice as several little girls in matching dresses darted out to collect the things being thrown on the ice.

As they stepped off, Brittany's grin grew as she finally caught sight of her very best friend, Santana, standing there, holding Brittany's sparkly blue and purple skate guards in her hands, her pretty, million dollar smile across her face. Brittany immediately darted forward, hopping onto the mat just on the other side of the opening and bending down a bit to pull Santana into a tight hug, necessary since Santana was wearing boots and Brittany, skates. "You were so great!" Santana said in her ear. "Amazing, Brittany. Really."

Brittany gave Santana an extra tight squeeze as thanks and straightened back up, accepting her guards from Santana. She pulled them on and hugged Santana one more time, before going to sit in the kiss and cry booth, a bench in front of a backdrop with the media cameras pointing towards it, where they waited for their scores. Brittany sat in the middle. Mike followed her, settling down on one side, and Shelby took the other.

Brittany was still looking back at Santana, who was smiling more of the shy, sweet smile that Brittany had loved from the first time she had caught sight of it, years and years ago. It took Mike nudging her in the ribs for her to remember to thank the people that she wanted to, shouting out to the skating club, her parents, and Ashley, before sending a smile at Santana again. She had asked once, a long time ago, if Santana would be allowed to sit with them, but Shelby had said no.

"The scores, please, for Brittany Pierce and Mike Chang." Brittany sat up a little straighter, eyes glued to the board where her scores would appear. The crowd quieted, the entire arena seeming to pause for a moment. "For the short program, Pierce and Chang have scored a total of 62.51 points, putting them in first place." Brittany stood up as soon as she heard the score, her fist pumping into the air. That was their best score ever. Maybe there was something to the idea of a home court advantage after all. Or maybe it was all the hours she had put in with Mike. Either way, they were in a great place going into the free skate. Already up, Brittany headed off the small platform to give her best friend another hug.

"I knew you could do it!" Santana said in her ear, letting herself be pulled onto her toes.

"I know you did." Brittany replied, having a harder time hiding her smile than when she had been skating a few minutes ago. She was trying not to get too excited. It was only the short program after all. The free skate was longer and required more emotionality from her and Mike. The score was larger meaning it counted for more of their overall score. Still, more than 61 points was definitely a good headstart for the free skate tomorrow. "Thank you for believing in us."

"Of course, Britt. Always." Santana said. Brittany looked back and forth between Santana's brown eyes, sparkling beautiful and not just because of the glittery grey make up on her eyes. Santana had obviously started getting ready for her own routine which wouldn't be for another few hours, though she was still wearing her big, puffy coat and boots lined with faux sheep skin. Brittany curled her hands around Santana's arms, just above her elbows. She believed every word that Santana said with her whole heart.

They had been friends since the first day of skating lessons, fifteen years ago in Ohio. And now they were both rising to the top of their fields. It might not have turned out exactly how they imagined all those years ago, but it was a pretty awesome place to be. Brittany opened her mouth to say something to Santana, but was interrupted by Mike calling, "Hey, Pierce! Press," he said, nodding towards the reporters waiting for them.

Brittany gave him a thumbs up and then held out one finger, letting him know that she'd make it over in a moment. "I guess I've got to go be a fox," she said with a shrug, the fingers of her left hand squeezing into the plush of Santana's thick jacket for a moment. She watched the quirk of Santana's eyebrow as her forehead contracted slightly, the look that she got when she trying to work out exactly what Brittany meant. Brittany smiled softly. She could always count on Santana to give her the benefit of the doubt.

"Okay, Britt," Santana said after a moment, the pinch in her forehead letting Brittany know that she still hadn't quite figured it out yet but that she wasn't done trying. "I'll be in the back room. I still need to stretch and change."

Brittany nodded. "I'll come find you." She gave Santana's arm one more squeeze and jogged off to meet up with Mike at the entrance to the press area, her guards making a loud smacking sound against the tile and mats. Press wasn't particularly fun, but they were part of the whole package of getting to do what she loved. She just wished they would ask questions that were more interesting. There were only so many ways to talk about how she and Mike obviously wanted to win, but would be happy with doing their best before she had to start slipping in something to entertain herself.

Just before she and Mike walked through the doorway, she heard her name behind her. Brittany turned to see Santana, calling from where she had walked to. "Newshounds?" She asked. Brittany realized that Santana had figured out her reference and laughed, raising a thumbs up over her head. Santana flashed her one of her big, honest smiles and headed off towards the back rooms with a spring in her step.

Brittany turned to Mike and laughed at the half-amused, half-bemused expression on his face. Mike was a good guy and never questioned her silly jokes with Santana. "Come on, Chang-a-lang. Let's get this over," she said, threading her arm around his waist and stepping forward.

By the third reporter, a lot of the shine had already come off of their big score. It was tedious trying to answer these questions over and over again. Most of the time, the few actual press around after competitions were for diehard skating magazines and they usually had more interesting questions. Brittany loved to talk about the training that they had done to finally land their side-by-side jumps in synch. That was sharing her joy and her victory with the people who loved it, from the reporters at the scene to the readers who would be logging on tonight or flipping through the magazine in a couple of days, wanting to know more about the skaters they had just watched.

With the Olympics coming up, though, those small reporters seemed to have gotten drowned out by people who were willing to pay more to get a spot, just because skating was one of the best known events to consumers in the United States. So by the third time Brittany was given the same question by a reporter who clearly had been assigned this and done nothing more than the very basic research, she wasn't in the mood for giving good sound byte clips, no matter how many lectures and workout drills it was going to earn her.

"What were you feeling when you finished the routine?" the reporter asked, looking lost without a page of stats and an in depth knowledge of things like scoring stats, rulebooks, and exciting plays.

Brittany just restrained herself from actually rolling her eyes and decided to give him the most honest answer she could think of. Leaning into towards his recorder, she met his eyes and said very carefully, "Sweaty."

Mike tried not to laugh and shifted his hip subtly into Brittany's as he took over. "Yeah, I mean, we put a lot of hard work into performing our absolute best and I think that was it. We're just glad that the judges agreed," Mike broke in, delivering something more along the lines of the answer that the reporter would actually be able to print.

The reporter nodded and looked down at the scribbled notes that he had made. Brittany could practically see in his eyes the question that was coming next and it made her want to sigh. "So, a lot of people seem to think that the two of you are a couple. Can you comment on that?"

It was one of Brittany's least favorite questions. She loved Mike. A lot. But there wasn't a drop of romantic or sexual love in her whole lake of love for Michael R. Chang Jr., which was an actual quote that she had given to a reporter once after they had won their intermediate national title a few years ago, though she had refrained from launching into a full explanation about dilution in large volumes and how not even a drop really meant something because she could dump thousands of gallons of romantic love into her bro-love lake for Mike Chang and it would still be just a bro-love lake.

Brittany got that it was a good story, them being paired together and falling in love and raising little ice skating babies by the broodful while winning medals left and right. She didn't even mind fans who hoped that they'd get together as long as they didn't get mad at them when it didn't happen. It just wasn't and wouldn't be true, and it was lazy reporting when there were probably easily ten quotes on the first page of "Brittany Pierce Mike Chang dating" results from their mouths which would let him know that they weren't together.

Well, lazy reporting deserved a lazy answer. "No, that would be illegal. Except maybe in Rhode Island. But this Massachusetts." Brittany's face was completely neutral, and it was totally worth the five hundred sit ups she was going to do if Shelby found out that she had been responding to questions this way. The reporter blinked slowly a couple of times and slowly turned to look at Mike.

Mike looked at Brittany, a smile hiding in the corner of his mouth. "We're not a couple. Just friends." He answered.

The reporter nodded, forgoing any follow up, perhaps wisely sensing that Brittany's answers would only get more opaque as he continued down that line, and looked at his list of questions. "What are you feeling about your chances at the Olympics now?" he asked.

Brittany sighed.

Brittany found the room that Santana was in and pushed the door open, her guards still clacking loudly against her blades as she walked. Santana was on the floor, her legs stretched out to either side as she rested against the ground in between them. Brittany watched as Santana's expression went from adorably startled to even-cuter smiling. "Hey Britt," she said, propping herself up on her elbows a little bit, but not fully sitting up yet. She gestured to Brittany's bag sitting beside the bench and stretched herself back out flat.

"How are you so great?" Brittany asked, clacking over to the bench and throwing herself down so she could start untying her skates. She wrestled them off her feet, sighing as she wiggled her toes inside of her tights. She was pretty much used to wearing skates for long periods of time, but for some reason, wearing them to walk around always made her toes feel cramped and sweaty.

Brittany reached for her skates, pulling the hard plastic guards off the blades and tapping them against the edge of the bench to knock any dirt out of them, as well as whatever water was left over from melting off their skates. It wasn't strictly necessary, just something that she had started doing when she was seven or eight and started taking care of her skates on her own. She found the pale blue cloth in her bag and ran it over the blades a couple of times, wondering as she did what exactly made microcloth so much more absorbent than regular cloth and if it had anything to do with marketing hype and if really small creatures like fairies or archaea might use micro cloth too.

As she reached for the soft terry cloth guards - one purple, one pink - Brittany caught sight of Santana's amused expression from where she had propped up her head to watch. "What?" Brittany asked, glancing around, wondering if she'd maybe been using the wrong bag or something. But no, there was her name embroidered on the front, Brittany S. Pierce, all in a neat, script font.

"Nothing." Santana said, shaking her head and sitting up to draw her knees up to her chest. "I've just never seen anyone else manage to look so serious and so-" Santana tilted her head, "So funny all once while doing something as ordinary as drying skates." The way that she said it made it seem like maybe funny hadn't been the word on the tip of her tongue after all. Brittany studied Santana's expression for a moment, taking in the soft hints of pink in her cheeks and the way that her mouth was parted just a sliver. Her eyes were still sparkling. Briefly, Brittany tried to think of the last time that she hadn't see a spark in Santana's eyes, but she never figured it out because Santana let out a soft laugh and pushed herself standing.

"You're a dork," Brittany said, shaking her head as she fitted the cloth guards onto her blades and slipped them into the open pockets of her bag. The cloth and hard guards went back in as well, before Brittany located her sneakers and fleece jacket, which she pulled on over her costume.

"I learned it from you," Santana said, sticking her tongue out at Brittany, before setting herself up for a jump. Brittany realized that she had toed off her boots at some point, leaving her in bare feet on the mat spread on the floor. Santana stretched her arm out and tapped back with her left leg, jumping up and spinning twice in tight succession before landing back down. If she had been on the ice, it would have been an easy triple toe loop. There was no way that her toe pick wouldn't have stuck perfectly and she wouldn't have come down with that perfect easy, quiet landing.

Brittany, of course, clapped. Santana shook her head, but there was a grin hiding in the dimple at the corner of her mouth and an extra spring to the next jump. Brittany, making no attempt to hide her smile, clapped again. "Britt, you're going to make me fall," Santana said again, though the smile was still there.

"How am I going to make you fall?" Brittany protested. "They're going to clap for you out there."

"They don't make me laugh, though," Santana pointed out, swinging her arms. "Fine, if you're going to be in here, make yourself useful." She said shaking her head and walking over to the hook where her costume was hanging. "Help me into this."

"The confusing red one?" Brittany asked coming up behind Santana and looking as she unzipped the protective bag. Brittany nodded, seeing that it was. It wasn't so much that it was confusing, but that the three straps had a tendency of getting tangled as Santana tried to pull her arm in, and it always took Brittany a minute or two to get them all laying perfectly again.

Santana pulled the dress out and handed it to Brittany before pulling off her comfy jacket with a soft shiver. Brittany still wondered how exactly Santana had gotten so into skating if she got cold so easily, but she thought it was pretty cute so she never really asked. Brittany caught her lip gently between her teeth as Santana pulled her t-shirt off, the black cotton revealing bare skin, wonderfully tan, strong abs, and higher...

Brittany focused on making sure the perfectly aligned straps were straight on the hanger one more time. When she saw Santana's pants pushed down, revealing her tights, Brittany pulled the dress, shimmering softly in the light of the room they were in, off the hanger and into her hands, stooping to allow Santana to step into it properly. She brought it up Santana's legs, stepping behind her to keep the straps straight as Santana pulled the dress up. Brittany carefully smoothed the straps over Santana's bare shoulder and back, her fingers gliding over the skin underneath each of the three straps, making sure they were straight. Santana's skin was so smooth.

"Are they set?"

Santana's voice startled Brittany out of her trance. "Yeah, they're all set," she said, stepping back and letting Santana turn to face the room again. "Sometimes I wonder if it's more fun to have the pretty costumes or the fun costumes."

"Fun," Santana said with a decisive head shake. "Fun but classy, at least. Will wanted me to wear this purple one with this cut out like-" She traced a shape onto her side that would have bared much of her stomach.

Brittany shook her head. "I like this one, though," she said, reaching out to let her fingers trail up to Santana's shoulder, following the dark red material.

"Do you?" Santana asked with a shy smile, fingering the edge of her skirt as she looked up at Brittany.

"I do. It makes you look... even prettier," Brittany said, focusing on the center of Santana's eyes, marveling at how the brown there could be so deep and rich and alive with so many shades of colors at the same time. She watched with a breathless curve to the corner of her lips as a shade of red close to Santana's dress was echoed in her cheeks.

"I thought... it was the best choice. Even if it... it's... confusing," Santana murmured, slowly leaning closer to Brittany, her eyes flicking back and forth from Brittany's eyes to her lips. Brittany couldn't help but lick her lips and lean in as well.

The sound of the door handle turning was like a gunshot.

Brittany took a step to the side, narrowly avoiding crashing into Santana who apparently had the same idea as her. She hung the hanger back on the wall and tried to wipe the guilty and annoyed expression off her face as Santana straightened her own face.

"So, I thought we could go over the last few-" Will broke off, looking up from his clipboard, seeing that his skater wasn't alone. "Oh. Hi Brittany," he said with a nod.

"Britt just helped me get my costume on," Santana explained, tugging on the skirt once more, before clasping her hands behind her back. Brittany could see her left thumb and forefinger massaging the right one and she nodded dumbly.

"Oh, well, we're going to go over a few things now," Will said, pointing to his clip board, a dismissive tone in his voice.

"Aye, I'll just go change me togs," Brittany deadpanned, grabbing her back as she walked past Will, throwing a wink back at Santana, who smiled for a moment before settling back down on the bench, her shoulders tense, as Will sat beside her. The door closed and Brittany went to find a place to put on her regular clothes until it was closer to the time for Santana to skate.

"Welcome back to NBC's coverage of the 2014 United States Figure Skating Championships in Boston's own TD Garden building. I'm Rod Remington."

"And I'm Cassandra July."

"Weren't those opening ceremonies a few hours ago lovely? We're now deep into the fierce field of ladies' short programs. We've seen a lot of great performances today, as well as many that will be trying to make up these point losses in the long. Coming up, though, we have several competitors who are favored to come out of tonight as winners and move on to the Olympics in just a few weeks."

"Yes, there is a lot of pressure on these skaters. Now is not the time to choke."

Santana's knee shook, a little too fast for the rhythm of the song playing through her earbuds. In reality, she wasn't listening to the song, though its familiar tune was soothing in her ears. She had listened to the same song, probably hundreds or thousands of times. Sometimes, while she was spread out on a pale blue comforter covered in tiny pink roses. Occasionally, in a car, blaring over the stereo. Even sometimes with only one earbud in her ear as she rode the T or sat on an airplane. However, most of the times that she had listened to this song and the others on the playlist were situations just like this. Standing in a rink full of people, her coat draped over her shoulders, stretched out and warmed up and trying to keep anything from getting into her head and messing her up, be that the crowd or something said to her five months ago in practice or anything else.

A hand on her shoulder made Santana jump and whirl around. She instantly relaxed when she saw Brittany standing there, and pulled the earbuds out of her ears. "Hi," she said with a soft grin. A moment ago, her heart had been thumping heavily in her chest. Now, it was fluttering.

"Hi," Brittany said back with a soft smile. She wrapped her hands gently around Santana's arms, just below her elbows and gave her a gentle squeeze. "How are you doing?" She asked, looking back and forth between Santana's eyes.

For a moment, Santana felt like she forgot to breathe. Though Brittany was now wearing sweatpants, sneakers, and her jacket, her eye makeup was still on and it made her eyes stand out even more. Santana had already lost herself many times, just by catching sight of that startlingly blue color, and when the effect was enhanced, well... After a moment, she realized that she was just staring and jolted a little. "Fine." She answered automatically. "I'm doing fine."

"You-" Brittany said, leaning in a little closer. Santana couldn't help but notice the way that the corner of her mouth was quirked, like she was holding back a smile. The angle of her lips gave it away and Santana wondered if anyone else would know, looking at it, "-are a shitty liar."

Brittany's unexpected swear pulled a laugh out of Santana. The answering grin, pink lips parting to show white teeth, made it clear that Brittany had been hoping for that result. "I'm a little nervous," Santana admitted, reaching out to tuck her hands into the front pockets of Brittany's jacket. "Will gave me a whole list of things to remember about this routine."

The look on Brittany's face made it quite clear that she was less than impressed with anything that Will might have told Santana before. "Why does he do that to you?" she asked quietly, with a soft shake of her head.

Santana's heart skipped a beat. She loved that Brittany knew her so well. Brittany knew that Santana wanted to do her best and that she spent all this time stuffing her head with corrections about every little thing - that was the reason why she choked. She knew that Santana's knowledge that she choked when she over thought things also made her choke. And she conveyed it all with just a little sentence. It made things so foggy for Santana, who never could be sure what she was with Brittany. Best friends knew each other really well. But sometimes...

"I've seen you practice. You're going to be amazing," Brittany assured her softly. Her thumbs moved in circles in the crook of Santana's elbows, and Santana felt the last of the tension slip out of her limbs.

For a long moment, she just looked up at Brittany. She had seen this face change a hundred thousand times over the years. Gone were the sweet chubby cheeks of four year old Brittany, replaced by lean, gorgeous cheekbones. The too big front teeth from middle school were now a flawless, radiant smile. Brittany had even become leaner since they had started high school. Still, she was still the same Brittany. Same eyes, full of spirit and life. Same joyful smile. Same little freckle just above her lip. Santana let out a shaky breath and leaned into Brittany, putting her arms around Brittany's waist. "You're my best friend," she mumbled into the collar of Brittany's jacket.

"Yeah." Brittany murmured back, crossing her arms over Santana's back, holding her tightly. "Me too."

For a moment, the noise of the crowd and music dimmed and Santana just inhaled the sweet smell of Brittany. She never had any words to describe it, but she had noticed it more and more the older that she got. They spent a lot of their time in a cold rink and it was kind of interesting how things that would usually have a strong smell seemed to be dulled or covered by the smell of the rink or the chill in the air. However, Santana could always catch that hint of Brittany that lingered wherever she was. Santana had breathed it in off pillows and jackets and the crook of Brittany's neck. It radiated from Brittany's hair and lingered in her t-shirts. It calmed Santana down.

Eventually, they pulled away and Brittany cupped Santana's chin gently. "Kick some ass," she told her, grinning for real. Santana couldn't help but grin back, saluting to Brittany. Brittany gave her arm one last squeeze and walked back through the door. Santana put her earbud back in. There was only one more routine before she had to be out on the ice. Feeling much more relaxed, she listened to the music in her ears, trying to block out the routine and anything that might undo what Brittany had just done.

"Wow, that was impressive, Cassandra."

"It sure was, Rod. There is a reason why Quinn Fabray is the favorite to win tonight and that was it right there."

"She really has that classical, elegant element to her routines. It was very clean throughout. I would be incredibly surprised if anyone managed to beat that tonight."

"The best contender is probably up next. Santana Lopez, eighteen, out of Skating Club of Boston. She has been a long time rival of Fabray's and the competition between these two is fierce. And, as I've heard, can sometimes turn a little vicious as well. Ever since Lopez transitioned to a singles skater a few years ago, they have been struggling for that top slot."

"Santana has the potential to outscore Quinn, as we've seen, but Quinn gives a much more solid performance. Santana has enormous jumps and great flexibility, but she chokes."

"Exactly, Rod. It's something that really started happening after the split between Lopez and her former partner, Noah Puckerman. Of course, she still is a young skater. This is only her second season at the senior level, but in order to win one of those spots for the Olympics, Lopez is really going to have to nail these routines. It's enormous pressure and she hasn't always shown that she can handle that."

Santana pushed off on the ice, gliding smoothly around the edge as she shook out her arms. She was trying to focus on the things that Brittany said, but the comments from her coach kept sneaking in. Santana knew that this competition was a big deal, and even bigger than the one last year. She knew how Will would feel if she messed this up. She knew how she would feel. She had to do well.

Clasping her hands together in front of her stomach, Santana rounded the corner of the rink, automatically checking up her body, looking for anything that needed to be adjusted or shaken out before she began. Her skates felt good. There were no twinges in her knee, where she had the occasional flare up of aches. Her stomach was a mass of knots, but that was nothing new for Santana. She rolled her shoulders as she rubbed the base of her right thumb, her blades making tracks in the nearly spotless ice. It seemed like she had stepped out onto the ice years ago and a moment ago all at once.

Finally, she heard the announcer call out her name and club. Santana forced a smile onto her face and glided to the logo at the center of the ice, waving to the audience as she did so. It had seemed so much smaller as a kid, sitting there. Like they were all part of this family or this experience or something. Santana still wasn't sure if that was just because she was young or because of who she had sitting next to her, all slurpie-dyed smiles and salty popcorn fingers laced with hers... Either way, standing out on the ice alone, facing a table of judges and a huge audience of people, it didn't feel so much like they were all in it together. Not yet at least. Santana had to prove herself first.

She took a deep breath and struck her pose.

The music started and Santana forced her smile into place, moving through the motions to the quiet trumpet of the beginning. At the first small swell of the music, she pushed off to skate backwards across the rink. The first thing was a flying sit spin. Santana leapt off the ice, bringing one leg up and out in front of her and landing so that she was crouched low. Her heart pounded in her throat already. Not from the exertion of one fairle simply spin, but out of the fear of disappointing the people in the stadium, her parents and abuela watching, and Will. Mostly, though, she worried about disappointing Brittany.

Already, Santana could hear in her head all of the things that she could be doing wrong. She wondered if her leg was pointed enough and if she was low enough to get the points that she would need. Her spin felt centered, spinning on the sweet spot under the ball of her foot, but had she miscounted the revolutions? Was she spinning fast enough to make it around enough times and still come out of it in the right spot for her music? Santana had been skating for just about fourteen years, but she never trusted herself in competition enough to let go of these questions. Even the best, most reassuring speech from Brittany couldn't seem to last for very long once she was on the ice.

Santana glided out of the spin, smile still stuck on, despite her insecurities. After the comments of last year, that had been one of Will's focuses, getting her to appear happy, even if she wasn't. It wasn't the most successful of goals. For whatever reason, Santana never connected with the music enough to emote like some of the other skaters that she saw. She clearly was just too closed off or emotionless or cold - both literally and figuratively- to be able to convey the joy and heartbreak and love and sorrow that she saw others do.

It wasn't that she hated skating. That couldn't be further from the truth. After all, there was a reason why Santana had devoted her life to the sport and it wasn't the pretty dresses or the crowds or even the fact that her best friend in the whole world had come to her, gliding across the surface of ice rather like this one. It was that Santana loved it more than anything else in the world. She loved working hard at something that she was good at. She loved the accomplishment that she felt when she landed a jump cleanly that she had been working on for months. The feeling in her stomach and heart, bursting out of her face in a smile that even she couldn't stop when she finished a routine without a single stumble was worth five a.m. conditioning practices, more blisters than she could count, freezing her ass off for hours on end, and anything else that had led up to it.

Santana let out a huff behind her smile and continued with the next part of her routine.

"Well, it's still early in the routine, but we're already seeing some great things from Lopez."

"Certainly, Cassandra. A clean and tight sit spin followed by an enormous triple loop. The height that she gets on those jumps is just incredible and she makes it look so easy."

"That's right. Those huge jumps are definitely one of her trademarks. But you can see during this step sequence how it often seems like Lopez is just going through the motions. It isn't something that will hurt her as much in the short program, but free skate, you need that."

"Wow! Did you see that triple axel?! Santana is one of the few ladies doing them right now and she makes it look like nothing! Jumps like that will keep her in the running, for sure."

Santana bit the inside of her lip as she landed her triple axel. It felt like a clean landing, but she was worried about her position in the air, if it was clean enough, if she had landed smoothly enough to get high execution marks from the judges, or if she'd get some deductions. Her triple axel had huge point values, definitely, but they only covered her deficits, as Will called them, if she got a lot of execution points for them. Otherwise, she could jump all she wanted and she would never be able to secure herself one of the spots to head to Sochi in a month.

As much as competitions stressed Santana out, that was the goal. Any other year, she'd be hoping for one of the four medals on their own merit, just to accomplish that. But it was an olympic year and she couldn't help but want her shot at that. Four years was a long time in the athletic world and there was no guarantee she'd get another shot. Even with three spots to the Olympics, it wouldn't be easy to grab one. She needed a huge short program score if she wanted to have enough points over all.

Santana wound up, stroking backwards powerfully, before stepping into the rotation of her spin, her body taunt and extended in a camel position. The spins and jumps were the times that she could let the smile off her face, to focus on doing the best she could without putting on some image. Her ears were focused on the music as she counted in her head until she could pull her leg down and in, extending it out in front of her as she sat into her second sit spin of the routine.

The crowd was a blur and so were the judges as she spun and spun. Santana could almost imagine that they weren't even there, that she was at their home rink across the city, skating for Brittany. With that easy picture in her mind, the bright brilliant smile of her best friend, Santana switched feet and drew her leg up straight in front of her. The increase in speed blurred the crowd even further, giving Santana just a moment to breathe in the middle of her routine.

As she held the position, her arms and stomach tense, keeping herself balanced over the sweet spot of her blade as the world rushed by in an indistinct blur, a piece of Santana's mind not devoted to keeping her time and her focus and her nerves slipped back to many years ago when she was first working on the flexibility to do spins like this. Brittany had always been naturally flexible, able to slide out into a split with hardly any effort at all. Santana had seen this as something else to work on, to catch up. And Brittany, being the best friend that anyone could help for, had spent hours with Santana, propped up in a split as they watched movies together or pressing on Santana's legs or back to get her to bend a little further. She didn't think many people knew it, but Brittany was the reason she was able to have the signature i-spin that she did now.

Santana heard the cue that told her to come out of the spin and she did so nearly automatically, gliding out, to finish the spin, before skating around the edge of the rink. She was nearly done. Only two more jumps and one more spin and she would maybe post enough points to put herself in a good place for the long program and avoid a long lecture meant to inspire and shame her at the same time.

Hearing the beat of the music and the vague noise of the crowd behind, Santana glided backwards, arms checking her rotation as she prepared for the jump. At the right moment in the music and when she felt it in her bones, she sprung off the ice, using her toe pick to vault herself up. She made three quick revolutions before touching back down again. Almost instantly, Santana reached her other foot behind, tapping it down into the ice to push herself up again, completing three more quick turns.

On the way down, the back of her blade got caught for moment, somehow, as she uncrossed her legs, leaving her landing shaky, though she managed to hold it. The smile was gone off Santana's face, a worried scowl in its place. The short was supposed to be her crowning glory, to make up for her problems in the long. There was no way that she was going to make it onto the podium, much less on a plane to Russia if she made stupid mistakes like that. Santana gritted her teeth as she wound up for her final spin. Jumps were supposed to be one of her trademarks, something that she was good at and didn't need to worry about.

Of course, there was nothing in any routine that Santana didn't worry about, especially when the stakes were so high. But of all the things, a silly triple toe loop, even in sequence, shouldn't have been any problem for Santana and there she was looking at a significant downgrade in quality. It might not cost her ton in points, but, really, she was fighting for very few spots and the competition would be fierce. Who knew how little of a difference there would be between one place and the next. Messing up, even in a small way, now was a good way to guarantee she'd spend the next winter doing small time shows and drilling endlessly.

As her brain whirred, Santana's muscles clicked into play and she spun, leaning backwards gracefully, her body centered and her spin fast. As the music faded away, Santana pulled out of the spin and struck her final pose.

The crowd cheered. Santana couldn't tell if it was particularly loud or not, but she smiled and waved anyway, dipping her head as she bent at the knee for each of the sides of the huge stadium. Though she wasn't exactly beaming, the cheers did remind her that there were several things that, at least to the relatively untrained eyes around her, looked quite good, and that was probably something to be celebrated.

As she bowed, Santana avoided looking towards one particular part of the stadium. Although, of course, a small part of her worried about what she might see on that face that she knew so well, most of her just wanted to save that for last, so that she could treasure every inch of that expression and tuck it away in her heart slowly and completely, without interruption. Finally, she was able to exit towards the kiss and cry and there was no avoiding where her eyes went.

Somehow, it was still amazing that that smile could be seen so clearly from so far away.

Santana smiled, an automatic response that she had long since stopped questioning. Things were confusing enough without Santana examining every little reaction that she had to Brittany. None of that stopped her from skating over and stepping off the ice, her smile turning a bit shy. Brittany didn't mind at all and pulled Santana into a hug. Santana felt her tense muscles relax as she took in Brittany's scent again. "You were wonderful," Brittany murmured in her ear. Santana didn't comment, but she felt a calmness spread through her bones as she tucked her nose into Brittany's collar. The moment stretched on, just Santana, Brittany, and their embrace.

Will's hand on Santana's arm made her jump, and the sound of the crowd came back in a wave, washing over Santana and making her drop her arms from around Brittany. Will wrapped his arms around her and Santana lifted hers to almost hover around his waist. She waited, hearing the sounds of the crowd, talking and shuffling, as he patted her back and then let her go. "We'll talk about it later," he told her with a nod, heading for the kiss and cry to wait for Santana's scores.

Brittany handed Santana her guards, holding her hand to help Santana keep her balance as she pulled them on. Before Santana could follow Will, Brittany squeezed her hand. Santana looked up into Brittany's eyes, nearly level with her own and relaxed into an easy smile again. "You did wonderful," Brittany repeated and Santana couldn't help the shiver that ran through her at the sincerity of her words.

As much as Santana wanted to linger beside Brittany for a moment longer, she knew that she had to go up and sit in the booth to get her scores, so she squeezed back and hurried up to the bench to perch lightly beside Will. She rattled off an automatic thanks to her family and her friends at the rink, though her mind was on her performance. She had landed her triple axel, and she didn't think there was any way that could be downgraded to a double, but she just didn't know how it had gone. Were the mistakes that stood out in her mind, the toes that weren't pointed and the wobbles and shallow edges, all real or were they made up? Santana didn't know.

She glanced to the side and caught sight of Brittany. For a moment, she just looked at the features of her best friend. Brittany was so beautiful and Santana's eyes traced the graceful curve of her jaw and neck, the way that her hair curled out of the ponytail, sticking up a little in the way that it did after her routine got it just a bit sweaty. Santana could practically smell the sweet, Brittany scent that she knew would be lingering there. For a moment, she focused on bright blue eyes, studying them like she didn't already know them by heart, as if she hadn't memorized each shade and tint to her iris and every expression that they made over the past fifteen years.

Santana started for a moment as Brittany's eyes focused on her. But, far from being weirded out that Santana had been staring, Brittany just grinned and sent Santana a thumbs up. Santana may have returned the smile if she had not suddenly heard the announcer over the noise of the crowd. Her eyes went to the board where her scores would appear.

"For the short program, Santana Lopez has scored 65.1 points. She is in second place." Santana's heart sunk in her chest. Sixty-five points was really not a bad place to be, especially with a long term goal of wanting to go to the Olympics. In order to get there, she wouldn't need to win, she would just need to place in the top three i order to prove she should have that spot. However, the short program was supposed to be her forte and if she couldn't even beat Quinn Fabray out for that spot in her better program, she definitely wouldn't be able to do it in the free skate.

With just a look at Will, Santana could already tell that he was thinking the same thing - there was no way that she was going to win this unless she could somehow stumble upon a perfect performance tomorrow.

Santana turned and looked the other way. Brittany's grin was, if anything, brighter. Santana felt her own smile grow again, watching her very best friend hop a little bit in excitement.

"And that's it for Ladies' Short Program. Quinn Fabray in first, Santana Lopez in second, and Marissa Gardner in third. It's shaping up to be a fierce fight for those podium spots, isn't it Cassandra?"

"You bet, Rod. Lopez delivered a solid performance tonight with some graceful spins and great height on those jumps. Fabray is going to have to fight to keep that gold in her hand."

"As long as Santana can bring that emotion to her free skate, you're absolute right. Textbook perfection in her spins and jumps-"

"Absolutely, but there's a robotic sense to her. Quinn Fabray is more of a whole package skater, and that might be enough to take that top spot from Lopez, no matter how high she jumps."

"You'll just have to tune back in to see who comes out on top. Ladies' Freeskate will be Saturday. In the meantime, be sure to catch Men's Short Program, tomorrow at eight. I'm Rod Remington."

"And I'm Cassandra July."

"Thanks for watching with us this evening for NBC's coverage of the 2014 United States Figure Skating Championships. Goodnight."