A/N: While i love sports, I have no clue how college ones operate first-hand, I know they're an insane $$ business so I avoided most of that stuff in this story (Canada Uni-level sports are nowhere near as pimped as the US). Believe it or not, this story started off inspired by the TV show Blue Mountain State, i picked soccer bc that's my fav sport.

Disclaimer: this story is not intended for copyright infringement.

Warnings: Contains use of a strap-on and coarse language

FWB

/

Brittany gulped water eagerly as she followed her teammates into the locker room. She was gasping for air and had a sharp cramp in her side but knew she shouldn't quit now. This game was a must-win because Carmel College was McKinley's biggest rival in all things and the crowd – most of whom were McKinley fans- were booing the shit out of them.

"I don't even know where to start," her soccer coach, Sue Sylvester says, deathly quiet. "You're down by one – a goal that should not have happened in the first place but did because of pathetic effort! This is not a way to start the season-"

Sue's rant is interrupted by the fierce entry of team captain, Santana Lopez. Santana is fuming and she grabs the rack of towels to hurl it angrily across the change room.

No one says anything, and Sylvester is pleased with the tantrum instead of annoyed.

Brittany is kind of afraid of Santana, she's pretty sure everyone on their team is afraid of the captain so it's not like she's a wuss or anything.

Santana is just, well, scary.

"Fuck this!" Santana mutters under her breath before slumping down on the bench (the girl closest to her, Sugar, moves a few inches away).

Everybody is silent.

"Lopez," Sylvester barks before heading towards the door, "get this team in action! I can't even LOOK at you all right now. You think this is hard? Try surgically removing your own toe – that's HARD!"

Santana glowers at Sue's disappearance and then looks briefly at her exhausted teammates before not saying anything. She rarely does at game, usually only insulting everyone at practice.

Everyone knows they're in for an earful tomorrow.

Brittany takes a few more sips of water and starts over thinking her last shot on net. She kept on hitting the goalie, unable to find her favourite right corner goal like usual.

Santana sniffs when someone kncoks on their locker room door to warn them for time and stands up, stretching her arms and tightening her ponytail before storming back out of the locker room without talking to anybody.

With a deep breath, Brittany tries to figure out how to up her game. She couldn't afford to lose this scholarship so she had get her head in the game and perform well.

/

Practice was more tiring that the game.

Brittany huffed in pain during the third rep of crunches. Her abs burned and she was really thirsty. Since their fucking captain was the one leading training today (the official trainers were taking notes on clipboards and gossiping while their coaching staff met over coffee to discuss strategy) no one could get away with half-assing it because she'd single you out and tear into you, and it sucked. She was mean.

Brittany happened to be a half-assing pro and she hated having to work herself so hard in the blistering sun. Like, fuck. She was too hungover for this intense training. Yesterday's loss was tough but her sorority house was having 80's night and she needed to lighten up her mood so there was that.

"Alright that's good, let's grab some water," aforementioned captain Santana, the notoriously hardass center midfielder (commonly known to most on campus as that hot soccer chick whose gorgeously photogenic features were on that massive advertising billboard at the centre and also on their school website when you logged into the homepage) said, showing off how she was hardly out of breath and clearly disappointed with them all gasping for air.

She loved showing off, and yeah Brittany found it attractive sometimes but very rarely and today was not one of those rare days.

Today Santana was being bitchier than usual, in fact.

Santana gave her signature eye-roll of shut the fuck up as the girls groaned and clutched their stomachs, someone even calling her 'devil-child' which was followed up with a coughed out 'Satan!'

Brittany got along with Santana for the most part when it involved soccer, even though Santana was frightening. Though all pleasant conversations she had with Santana were drunken ones.

They had some stuff in common. Like they both loved the new Brazil team over the old one, teamed up on some good team goals (Santana has assisted almost all of Brittany's), agreed Christiano Ronaldo could out-school Beckham one-on-one, and while they disagreed over Messi (Santana liked his old hair better and Brittany liked his new hair better), they both loved Ke$ha.

Also, most importantly, they were an undefeated beer pong duo.

Recently they even shared a hotel room on their trip down south for the Texas tournament. She even painted Santana's toe-nails red and watched Toddlers and Tiaras with her on TLC.

"I'm doing an extra run, but practice is done." Santana jumps to her feet and then eases into a pace around the soccer field. She throws them all a taunting, "pussies!"

"Fuck you," Quinn says for the rest of the team as Santana leaves them in peace. Finally and surprisingly.

"I can't feel my legs," Sugar moans out, "or my stomach. I'm dyyyyying."

"Bitch is letting us out early? The hell," Mercedes, their best defender but laziest athlete (and most vocally antagonistic to Santana) collapsed back on the grass with a groan. "That must mean she's in a good mood. Maybe she'll throw a party."

"Whatever it is I'm glad we're stopping… My arms are numb and I think the Oreos I ate for breakfast want to come back up," Brittany moaned, clutching her stomach and falling down on the grass next to Sugar.

"Tell me about it," Marley rubbed her own queasy stomach. "Just when I think we've trained everything, you know?"

"How can she still run? We just finished a marathon yesterday, I'm stiff as fuck." Kitty said through sips of water, looking kind of envious of her captain.

Someone's voice said, "Steroids much?" It turned out to be a nonchalant Mercedes and caused a few giggles amongst the girls.

Brittany rolled her eyes because Santana was a lot of things, but she was not a performance enhancer type of athlete, she was too high profile for that and it was insanely difficult to get away with. Plus she showed none of the steroid symptoms so, duh.

"Girl you didn't even play much yesterday," Bree taunted Kitty while stretching out her body, also gasping for air.

"Bitch."

"Extra bitch."

Kitty made a face at Bree and then Santana was back from her first lap, interjecting with, "knock it off. You guys are fucking pissing me off with your hissy fits and I'm still pissed off at our performance last night – you should all be pissed off! There goes our undefeated streak!"

They both clamped their mouths shut, cowering in front of their intimidating captain. Everyone looked down, like they thought Santana overheard the unfair steroids comment.

Brittany remembers their trip to France and how Santana went crazy drunk Spanish beater on who she called a 'potential rapist' outside their hotel. The guy followed them back to the hotel from the club and Santana just lost it on him, and ever since then her temper was always taken seriously by all the girls who watched her real rage.

"We should have gone over some corner-kicks," Quinn tells Santana who is now busy fixing her wind-blown hair (and still not as out of breath like everyone else).

"Uh… no." Santana dismisses the idea. She sees Quinn's face clench so she decides to reaffirm her captainship with a snap of her fingers for everyone's attention. "You see this?"

She lifts up her shirt to show off a slim, toned core that is instantly the envy of every girl on their team, and then twirls a little so all eyes are on her body.

(Except Brittany, she's more appreciative and enjoys the free show.)

"Sure," Santana pats her flat stomach twice and smirks boastfully, "this perfect muscular definition gets me laid and keeps my balance good so I can play my best, but I can't be the only one on the team who works out and doesn't faint after a few crunches. Face it, we've been getting sloppy and I blame yesterday's loss on fitness FAIL. This is college sports – how the hell did any of you make it on the team?"

Someone coughs 'steroids' again but Santana didn't hear it, surprisingly, because she's too into her tangent.

"After last game I realized we suck so much at fitness all around so we're working on fitness for the next two weeks – my way – to build up a new fitness regime. Coach agrees with this so you ladies better stop whining and get used to it. When you can KEEP UP with me we'll all be a better team and you'll all feel great and then you can fucking tell me to fuck off. Got it? Good."

Brittany is the only one who speaks up to defend this idea with, "I get laid without all this extra workout, Santana. And I played awesome last game."

"Whatever! I'm captain what I say goes." Santana says indignantly.

"You're a controlling bitch," Mercedes sneers at her. "They just want a pretty face to be captain so don't let this shit into your head that you're in charge of us because you're not."

"She has a point," Quinn sides with Santana, however. "None of us follow our conditioning like we're supposed to except for Santana and well… she is the best in the conference Mercedes."

"Only one of the reasons I'm captain and you're not," Santana says to Mercedes with a smirk.

"Whatever," Mercedes snaps back, pissed off while muttering harshly, "arrogant bitch."

Santana hears this and doesn't start a fight, (mostly because she realizes good leadership isn't just about self-bragging which she's been trying to do less of) so she tries a different and very rare approach to get her teammates into a better mood.

"I know it sucks but we can have a real shot at winning it all this year and I really, really want to win! I'm a senior, I'm out after this. Same with Quinn, Britt, and Diva-Delight-"

Mercedes glares at her again but silently agrees because winning is part of the plan.

"-So… Party at mi casa tonight to celebrate our progress. Mandatory drinkage," Santana tells them all, "so we can put yesterday behind us."

She then goes back to her run and everyone is suddenly in a better mood because parties were a college student's common ground and the only thing their team was better at doing than playing soccer.

It was why they inevitably put up with Santana's controlling ways to make them all clones of her on the field, they wanted to use her student house for parties.

Sure on paper she made a good choice: played the Youth National USA Team, got scouted to a bunch of colleges and has been the star player of McKinley-U since she chose it. Then she became the first sophomore captain ever two years back and is only four goals away from breaking the single female goal scoring record in a college season as well.

But in person she was so much more. Bitchiness and drill sergeant spunk aside, Brittany thought Santana was driven, focused, competitive as hell, and a great, great, great partier who threw the best team parties. She couldn't picture anyone doing a better job, even though her body felt like it got mauled by a bear.

"Yes," Brittany raises her hands in triumph and forgets about her hangover. "Par-tay tiiiiime."

The younger girls let out 'whoo's' of eagerness because they're still cute and tend to they gush over what to wear and who else is probably going to the party which is 'super important because apparently Marley has a giant crush on one of the male soccer team players' or something.

Yeah, Brittany is so over practice. She just wants to drink, fuck, and dance. The three perks of college.

"I'm out. See you ladies tonight," she jumps to her feet and pokes Sugar's forehead.

"See ya Britt!" Mercedes hollers happily because while she hates on Santana she still goes to her parties and enjoys the shit out of them.

/

"You show up to my party in sweats Pierce?" Santana's arm comes around her shoulder seconds after she's entered the front door that night. She smells and sounds like vodka.

"Came from Jason's," Brittany defends coyly but leans into the embrace. She loved drunk Santana.

"Hold up. Dickface Jason? I thought you didn't like him anymore because he's a dickface who four-timed you," Santana smirks at this and says, "new favourite word. Dickface."

Santana is already tipsy because she's being social and tolerable. Brittany falls into pace with her, grabbing Santana's plastic beer solo cup to steal. She huffs sarcasticaly, (she'll probably have to be drunk to appreciate why 'dickface' is so funny), "no one cheats on me and gets away with it."

Santana's eyes fall to her lips because when she gets drunk, her lesbian shows. Brittany finds it flattering whenever it does happen because it means her 'I'm so hot' captain thinks she's hot, so she licks her lips and leans in a little closer to tease. It works, and Santana's hand lingers on her waist.

"What did you do?" Santana asks into her ear.

"I invited him over… told him how hot he makes me feel and how good in bed he is…"

"So you played up his ego?" Santana blinks and presses closer. Brittany always finds it fun to give Santana sultry eyes and see how she'll react.

"It was easier than I thought it would be."

"God, you're so freaking sexy," Santana says, gushing.

"You drunk?" Brittany teases her.

"Yep."

Brittany laughs, "so get this. I told him I want him to wear my pink thong and then fuck me real hard."

Santana sighs and Brittany is pretty sure her captain just inserted herself into that image.

She brushes it off though, because it's Santana. She's harmless with her 'look but don't touch' thing.

The arm around her shoulder gently drops and Santana bursts into laughter, "please tell me you tricked him and got a photo."

"I kicked him in his cheating junk and…" she presents a photo from her phone. "I may have sent it to his professor from his account asking for a higher grade. His fault, he called me stupid."

It's embarrassing for him. He's got a red look on his face and the thong he's wearing is still lacey and noticeable even though he's trying to cover it.

"I hate that guy," Santana high-fives her and then takes her drink back. "Let's go play beer pong and celebrate your badass revenge."

Brittany sometimes gets lost in the moment with Santana. When they win they have a special victory dance (twirl, dougie, shimmy, blow-kiss), but today Santana has been throwing back the hard liquor so they just play one game to defend their title, which they win of course, and Brittany smacks Santana's ass and then realizes what she just did and drinks off the awkwardness.

She's pretty sure she's the only one who felt awkward because Santana just kept on throwing insults at the guys who tried to take them on and didn't even flinch from the love tap…

But still.

She dances the rest of the night away, does team tequila shots mostly off of some hot bodies and then shotguns a beer with some guys who were terrible flirts.

"Hey Britt," Quinn stumbles into her later with tangled hair and narrowed eyes. "You see Santana?

"Noooope."

"If you do, tell her Talia is looking for her and won't leave me the fuck alone cus of it. Like fuck, just because I drink her beer doesn't mean I'm her friend."

Brittany nods and then wanders up the stairs of the house. She's too drunk to make it back to her dorm room, and Santana is surprisingly always welcoming of her teammates crashing as long as its not in her room and they leave her two roommates alone.

There's always the random people that end up sleeping on the lawn outside because she kicks them out and they can't make it home, only the teams gets to use the indoors.

Santana lives in an abandoned frat house with only two other music kids, (because that's her major, music of all things). Brittany didn't think Santana was into music but she loved it more than soccer, which was friggin weird because that girl really loved soccer. When they shared a room that one trip she talked about it in her sleep.

Brittany usually avoids the first door, Santana's room that has a DANGER ZONE sign, and goes to the third where two bunk beds are. Santana's room is usually closed with a hook-up inside or whatever it is Santana does anyways when she dissappears, but this time the door is open and Santana is visibly crying.

Well, she's just sitting at the edge of her bed with wet tears on her face and grimly staring at her lamp.

Brittany goes inside and closes the door behind her, looking sympathetically at Santana.

Santana never cries, she makes people cry.

"You okay?" She sits down and rubs Santana's back soothingly.

"Fucking….ffffuck…" Santana purses her lips and then wipes at her eyes. "Britt, what am I doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean… I fucked Talia Johnson."

"Jamaican girl? She's hot."

"So hot," Santana agrees. "She makes great sounds in bed, too. Like damn I could fuck her over and over again."

"Right. Quinn said she was looking for you by the way. Go geddit. Go get laid. Fuck her over again."

Santana sighs, hugging her upper body and twisting to meet Brittany's eyes.

"She has a boyfriend."

"That bitch." Brittany gasps for effect of this scandal even though she's not really surprised. This was college, cheating and fluidity happened all the time.

"No, it's not her fault," Santana says and then collapses backwards onto her bed with a sniffle.

Brittany follows her, but on her elbow and side so she can lean in to hear more of the tale. She glances around Santana's room and is amused by the giant neon Bob Marley poster.

"Wait, did you know about her boyfriend before you boinked?"

"Yeah… you know, I've kind of mastered this stupid skill of getting girls to want to test me out… or they think it turns their boyfriends on or something, fuck if I know why they want to sleep with me."

"I know. You're really good with your eyes."

"My eyes?"

"You smoulder-stare. You're hot and it makes you hotter."

Santana laughs and wipes at her eyes, the tears having stopped, "what the hell are you talking about!"

"No, check it out," Brittany does the unthinkable. She straddles Santana against the bed, pinning her waist down into place. She giggles when Santana's spaghetti top rides up to tease extra skin and then imitates the 'smoulder-stare' with her own twist of a lip bite.

"You look…" Santana bites her bottom lip and moans quietly. "Shit. Britt, get off. I'm turned on."

"So? You always smoulder-stare at my ass," Brittany challenges her, raking her eyes down the submissive position Santana is in. Her body stiffens in want. This is hot and suddenly she can imagine hotter things for them to do… together.

"Bitch please," Santana rolls her eyes, apparently unaware that Brittany's planning to get in her pants. "Don't flatter yourself. I stare at a lot of ass."

(Apparently it was a very rare day, because Santana was more attractive than ever before.)

The denial though, was really, really turning Brittany on. And those lips were really, really inviting. Brittany felt like the need to prove to Santana that it was so obvious she wanted to tap Brittany's ass was unbearable, so dropped her weight onto her hands and leaned down over Santana's smaller frame.

"Why are you upset about Talia if you got to fuck her? I thought you preferred being single and unattached… getting laid all the time…" She gently toys with Santana's exposed shoulders and then plays with the heart-shaped necklace that sits between breasts. "Hm?"

"I dunno…." Santana does her smoulder-stare unintentionally as she stares at Brittany's fingers ghosting along her chest. Her hand glides along Brittany's sweatpants and then palms the ass that started the debate.

"You want to hook up?" Brittany throws out there to be blunt and prove her point because Santana seemed to realize how closet they were. She closes her yes and nudges her nose against Santana's lips, waiting for answer.

"Fuck yes," Santana says breathlessly.

Point proven.

Brittany leans in and gets a taste of those soft lips, gasping into every smacking sound their mouths made. She should have hit on Santana by now – this is amazing.

"Your mouth," Santana moans appreciatively, one of her hands slipping up the back of Brittany's shirt to tickle her spine.

Brittany moves her kisses to Santana's neck, suckling hard. She interprets that command as meaning her captain wants her mouth to go down, down, down.

For once, Santana's authority is sexy as hell instead of scary. She kisses her way down Santana's body, pushing up her the thin shirt so she can savour the abs showed off earlier that day.

Santana gasps in pleasure, and curls a hand into Brittany's blonde hair to pet her. Everything is good and steamy like a great hook up should be, and Santana seems to be enthralled with the attention… until Brittany pops the button on her tiny jean shorts.

"Woah," Santana slurs loudly and grabs at her wrists to stop them from going any further, "what are you doing?!"

Brittany tilts her head in drunken confusion, "I'm going down on you."

"You're WHAT?" Santana squeaks out, looking shocked and almost in horror.

Brittany makes a 'V' with her fingers and obscenely wiggles her tongue in between to demonstrate. She figures Santana finally understands because the girl covers her crotch with both hands and her jaw drops.

"Oh." Santana looks uncomfortable before removing her hands and taking a thick swallow. "Right. Um…. Okay? Yeah. Okay."

Brittany bends down to resume but is stopped again with a hand on her shoulder.

"What's wrong, Santana?" She asks in annoyance (and a little insecurity).

"It's just… I've never… I mean, no one has ever…" Santana drops her hand from Brittany's shoulder and points at her zipper.

"No one's ever gone down on you before?" Brittany can't help the amusement that expands in her voice.

Santana nods, looking reluctant to admit it.

"What the fuck!" Brittany snorts in laughter. "But-But you get laid all the time!"

"Yeah… and I always give. I've never…" Santana sighs and then gets mad, "I've never received, okay! Shut up!"

"Oh my god! That's why ladies love trying you out for the night? Because you just fuck them?" Brittany bursts into giggles, burying her fact on the mattress next to Santana's waist, "why is this so funny!"

Probably because she had a lot of rye and coke (and because 'I get laid all the time' bragging Lopez is half-full of shit).

"Oh shut up," Santana crosses her arms over her chest, mortified. "Sometimes I can like, get off."

"Sometimes." Brittany mocks her.

"Whatever! I'm really good at it!" She snaps.

"Oh I bet," Brittany is still giggling. "Are you embarrassed of someone's face getting near your chapel?"

"No," Santana murmured, shoving at Brittany's shoulder to make her stop giggling. "Just… no girl has ever offered and I don't want to make them like, uncomfortable or whatever so I don't ask."

Her giggles slow down and her eyes soften. She found this kind of… cute?

"I'm never letting you live this down," she says, grinning with her voice lowered.

"Bitch," Santana scoffs at her. "If you ever want me to pass you the ball again you best fucking keep this to yourself!"

"Oh?" Brittany gets on her knees and slowly drags her hands up Santana's thighs and back to the zipper of her shorts. "How about I do one better?"

Santana looks nervous but also very intrigued now that she realizes this is actually happening. She sits up and watches Brittany's fingers tease her button.

She gasps when the button is undone.

"Fuck… are you serious?" Santana watches the zipper slowly be separated.

"I'm pretty good at this," Brittany grabs the waistband of the shorts and flimsy red underwear to tug them off next, smirking triumphantly up at Santana who is now breathing heavily in anticipation and tenser than a stretched rubber band.

"You want me to do it, don't you?" Brittany asks for final confirmation even though she can smell Santana's nonverbal yes.

Santana swallows thickly and spreads her legs, eager and suddenly not as nervous as before. "Look who's talking… didn't' realize you were so …."

Brittany grabs Santana's thighs and presses her mouth forward to shut her up. She sucks hard and then flicks her tongue as Santana's hips start to shake in ecstasy.

Santana falls backwards, which hurts Brittany's scalp because of the grip on he blond hair, and struggles through a long moan. She looks like she had just won the lottery after her body quakes subside.

"Seriously?" Brittany wipes her mouth and then removes her sweatpants before lying down next to her captain to rub their bare legs together.

Santana came pretty fast, in fact she came really fast.

Then again, she doesn't blame Santana. The girl has never experienced the wonder of receiving oral before, a true tragedy.

"What?" Santana turns her head, looking worn out and sluggish but mostly really relaxed and unaware that most people should be self-conscious about being so quick.

"That tired you out? You ran a marathon this morning and were fine."

Santana ignores the jibe and just sighs out contently, "That. Was. Awesome."

Brittany thinks that is very sweet and smiles.

"Yo' welcome," Brittany leans over and kisses her on the mouth with a grin of accomplishment, breathing through her nose.

Santana kisses her back immediately, this time opening her mouth and slipping her tongue against Brittany's lips for something deeper.

When Brittany meets her tongue with her own, Santana rolls on top of her and grinds her thigh down hard between Brittany's legs to spread them. Her hands grab at Brittany's hips and the grinding gets harder.

"Holy shit," Brittany gasps, closing her eyes and turning her head away from Santana's lips. Santana bites her ear and Brittany raises a leg to wrap around her petite waist. There's no penetration and this feels really, really good.

So good that she's done pretty fast too, gripping Santana's shirt with her fingers and holding her breath so as not to moan out too loud (because humping Santana's leg to orgasm is kind of embarrassing).

Thankfully Santana doesn't point it out and only kisses her cheek while lets her orgasm ride.

"You good?" Santana asks while rocking her body slowly.

"Mhmmm," Brittany finally drops her arms to her side and enjoys the aftermath.

Damn. That was a good one. They both came embarrassingly fast but weren't embarrassed and it was hot.

/

Brittany huffs as she runs the four hundred meter outdoor track, keeping the beat of her feet with the hip hop she had shuffling on her iPod nano. She doesn't expect someone to join her in stride, tapping her shoulder.

She feels very shy when she takes her right earbud out and turns her head to find Santana of all people to be the culprit.

Santana who she hooked up with last night. Her team captain with the bossy voice of ice-bitch-cutthroat-steel.

(And a godly body.)

"Sup Pierce," Santana says breezily, not apologizing for the fact that she ruined Brittany's jam.

"Um… not much," Brittany looks down at the track and keeps the jog going, "running off your hangover?"

"Obviously," Santana says. "You disappeared this morning."

Brittany hadn't anticipated Santana being the type to bring up a one-night stand, or care about where the girl she didn't cuddle after went. They slept with their backs turned, Brittany was pretty sure that meant 'thanks, okay bye' sex.

"You getting clingy on me?" She teasingly accuses. Not that she blames Santana, because apparently Santana had never been blessed with 'receiving' and that was obviously excitement to be had.

And still, so, so funny that she can't help but giggle.

"Shut up," Santana sneers at her, "I just want to make sure we're cool. We got a big game tomorrow and I'm counting on no drama, I mean I've never slept with a teammate before."

"I have," Brittany reveals as they continue running, "in high school. Three girls on my team, and two of them fought over me. It was hot."

Santana snorts, "nice."

Brittany smiles. She's amused that Santana appreciates her story. She's never had a girl-friend she can talk to about other girls before, it's kind of like a connection of some sorts.

"So then… how often do you hit up the ladies, cuz your dickface boyfriend was a boy and I had no clue you were into that until you attacked my vagina."

Brittany punches Santana's shoulder and laughs because she's pretty sure Santana is trying to be funny (from the smile that's on her lips) and not mean for a change.

"I really liked Jason so I gave him a chance. He fucked up. I tend to like a person over a gender, you know?"

"So you're pansexual?"

"Labels suck. I'm Brittany."

"Well I'm a lesbian," Santana tells her with some attitude, "I guess I just don't know how you can be so indecisive."

"There's nothing indecisive about liking what I like," Brittany stops running, glaring at Santana now.

That wasn't so funny, and the lightness they had dissolved instantly.

Santana slows down a few steps in front of her, confused with why Brittany was now glaring, "what? You cramping?"

"You're such a jackass."

"What?" Santana looks taken aback from this and questions, "how?"

Brittany just turns around and runs in the opposite direction.

/

Brittany hears knocking on her dorm room and opens the door, surprised to see Jason standing there.

God, she is so over him.

"You fucking bitch," he points his finger at her, "you know what I had to talk to my Professor out of doing? Getting a restraining order!"

"Woah dickface," someone says from the side and shoves him away from the door, "you shouldn't accuse Brittany of doing something so insensitive. Her phone went missing for half the night, she didn't do it."

Brittany raises her eyebrows, unimpressed as Santana shuts the door in Jason's face and smiles brightly at her.

"I can deal with him," Brittany crosses her arms, not appreciating the help.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?" Santana says right off the bat, "I didn't realize what I said was like… ignorant."

"But you realize it now?"

"I repeated our conversation to my roommates… they filled me in," Santana says sheepishly, "well, Kurt screeched at me and Rachel smacked me with a hairbrush. Verdict."

Brittany feels herself soften almost immediately because wow, Santana actually was that clueless about the shit she said sometimes, wasn't she?

"You're not like the other girls on the team," Santana says further, "you're not as easily upset when I yell… and sometimes you talk back but not undermining me. I mean, Cohen-Chang cries all the damn time and Mercedes gets defensive over every fucking critique, so… I didn't realize I offended you and I know better now… we cool?"

"We cool," Brittany smiles, "and thanks for getting rid of Jason. Between you and me... I totally did send out that thing on purpose to humiliate him. It was pathetic and petty but I was really, really hurt and took it beyond the prank it was supposed to be."

Santana looks at her darkly after her admission like she's turned on with Brittany's spiteful side, and Brittany takes a step closer with a finger reaching out to flirtingly caress Santana's collar.

"I mean… I'm not a very good person and everyone thinks I am and you are really decent even though everyone thinks you're naughty," she tells Santana, effectively asking her if Santana wants to go for round two.

Santana gulps and Brittany feels empowered, taking another step forward to encircle her arms around Santana's neck. She presses a kiss under Santana's ear and groans softly, "hm?"

"Um…" Santana closes her eyes, shakily breathing and obviously aroused, "what are you doing?"

"You know, I'm on the rebound and you've obviously been dreaming about the day I'll go down on you again. What do you say? FWB?"

"Friends with benefits?"

"No, silly…" She kisses Santana sensually and elaborates, "Fucking with Brittany."

/

Brittany cringes as Mercedes screams during a shoving match with Amanda Walder, the starting center midfield for UCLA.

Practically everybody on the field was yelling and the ref was blowing his whistle fervently while waving his yellow card around to break up the fight.

She rubbed her neck and hated herself for when that girls deeked her.

She turned to her right and was surprised that instead of breaking the fight up or trying to reason with the ref, Santana was standing next to her and talking to her.

"Fuck this."

"Not going to do your captain thing?"

"Quinn's dealing with it," Santana says and then scratches her head. "I can't get into it with Walder, the bitch tries to feel me up."

That was news to Brittany.

"What, like, she has a crush on you?"

"It creeps me out," Santana confesses, shrugging her shoulders. "Whatever it is."

"She's kind of hot," Brittany looked back at Walder, who was shouting at Mercedes as they were taken away from each other.

Santana scrunches her face in disgust, looking irked at this point. "Nah, I prefer girls to be slimmer and cute."

"You don't find muscles attractive?"

"Does your ass count?"

Brittany punches Santana's arm and then laughs as Santana's lips pull into an amused smile.

"Looks like he gave us the ball," Santana grins as the ref made the call, "go long, Pierce, I got this."

Brittany nods and takes off in a slow jog down the wing as Santana prepares to left hook the ball deep.

They win.

Santana doesn't host a party because the boy's team bought keggers and everybody stayed on the fields.

"That game was exhilarating!" Rachel cheers, clapping her hands happily.

Brittany curiously stepped into the kitchen of Santana's student house, overhearing her and her roommates.

"I loved the drama," Kurt, the other roommate, was sitting on the kitchen counter with a glass of wine.

Santana was seated on a chair opposite Rachel with her legs kicked up on the table and a cigar dangling out of her lips as she giggled with them.

The three of them looked to be really enjoying their time and wine, and Brittany briefly lost her liquid courage that got her to ditch the field party and seek Santana out.

To like, FWB it up and shit.

She had been feeling hornier earlier while celebrating with their team and horny thought immediately made her think of Santana and the fingers she worked inside of Brittany on Brittany's tiny study desk.

When she couldn't find her latest, most amazing hookup she decided to text and ask where Santana was.

' home' was the response Santana sent her, and she personally liked to think of it as an invite so she went over there.

"Oh, hello," Kurt notices her and waves his fingers cutely, "Brittany!"

"Hi guys," she confidently strides into the room and smiles warmly at them, "thanks for coming out to support us!"

"Anytime," Rachel slurs with a happy laugh, "Santana is familia."

She expects Santana to make fun of Rachel, but instead Santana says, "FAMILIA!"

Which in turn causes Kurt to screech and toast the air, "FAMILIA!"

And then another round of drunken music-major hollers, which turns into reciting some kind of play lines together and laughing their asses off.

"This is crazier than the field party," she tells them as she leans next to Santana's feet at the table and reaches over to pluck Santana's cigar out from her lips and claim it as her own.

Santana's eyebrow raises a little bit and then her eyes travel down from Brittany's mouth to the rest of Brittany's body which was displayed in a slutty pink-mini and a thin white tank.

Blonde hair was down around her shoulders and her makeup was smoky tonight. She could tell Santana appreciated her high-heeled gold peep toes the most (with the way she stared down Brittany's legs longest and all).

With a cough, Santana removes her feet from the table and stands up.

"Sorry guys, I promise not to ditch next familia night but Britts and I need to talk upstairs."

Brittany looks over her shoulder while blowing out her drag of smoke, giggling from Rachel and Kurt's scandalized faces.

"But-" Rachel starts to say the same time Kurt yells, "GO!"

Santana rolls her eyes at her friends and grabs Brittany's wrist, tugging her out of the kitchen and upstairs to her room.

Brittany giggles and stumbles behind her.

"Ditching your friends for me? How sweet." She teases Santana as they enter her room.

She walks around the space as Santana closes the door for privacy, picking things up and looking at them while continuing to smoke the cigar slowly.

"Yeah, well, they'll be fine. We were just going to play a Golden Girls drinking game."

"Captain of the soccer team wasn't looking to get laid tonight?" Brittany's finger glides over Santana's desk and then trails up along Santana's bare arm, snail-slow, from her fingers to her shoulder. "After that winning goal?"

Santana stares at her, lips parting her mouth in want. "You scored, not me."

Brittany lets the anticipation of touch sink in before leaning down to press her lips gently against the other girl's, waiting for a gasp before she opens her mouth and gets more aggressive.

"Hmmmm," Santana holds one hand against her cheek and fondles reaches up to roughly fondle a breast with the other. Brittany smiles at how easy she is to rustle up and then backs out of the kiss to tease her some more.

She watches Santana calm herself down while struggling with confusion at being left hanging.

"What?" Santana looks chastised, "What's wrong?"

"Smoke this," Brittany holds the cigar for her to take, enjoying the way Santana listens to her and takes it back.

She likes this control she had over her captain during their rendezvous, the way Santana just gave in to her.

"Do you have a dildo?" She asks Santana.

Santana chokes on the smoke, "no!"

"That's too bad," Brittany pouts. There goes that idea.

"I'm not into that," Santana tells her harshly.

"You should get one if you want to keep hooking up with me," Brittany leans back on Santana's bed and challenges the limit of her desire. She touches the bedsheets with seductive circles of her finger while making sure her legs are on show – the high heels waving around Santana's line of sight.

"Why?" Santana challenges her back, eyes glued on Brittany's show.

"Relax," Brittany sits back up and takes her tank top off before pushing her chest out so that her black bra can be admired. "I just think it would be hot if you fucked me with one."

"Can't find any dick to satisfy you?" Santana looks away from her, sounding angry. "I told you I'm sick of being an experiment!"

Brittany rolls her eyes and stands up, grabbing Santana's face and making eye contact.

They had already been over this, but they were both drunk so obviously they would end up saying dumb shit to each other.

"Oh stop whining!" she says before letting go of Santana's cheeks and then grabbing the cigar to drop in the glass of water on the desk so it's put out, "I could get any guy I want, so you're not some male substitute. We've been fucking, and I want you to fuck me with a nice big strap-on because that's what I want. Think you can handle that?"

When nothing is said, Brittany twists Santana around and shoves her onto the bed before climbing on top of her. She slips a hand up Santana's shirt and kisses her on the mouth, moaning in earnest when Santana gets over herself enough to go with the flow and kiss her back.

From the way she pushes up into her, Brittany can tell Santana's turned on by either the idea or the way Brittany demanded it.

She pulls her lips back with a smirk, pleased to see the glazing desire Santana's eyes are brimming with, and amused that her mouthy captain is speechless and ready for her.

"You played really good today," she compliments Santana, tickling her firm stomach before slipping a hand down Santana's yoga pants.

"Oh shit," Santana gasps in surprise, her hands clenching around Brittany's shoulders, "you don't mess around."

/

It's a few hook ups later that the dildo she convinced Santana to buy is delivered, and Santana tells her as much at practice.

"Yo um… the thing… came today… in the uh…" Santana looks around like someone can hear them, which is adorable to Brittany because they are alone at the water cooler as everyone else warms up.

"Wow. Santana Lopez, everybody!" she teases her usually over-confident captain, "she gets laid without actually getting laid and can't say the word 'dildo' – she's a real player."

"Shut up!" Santana blisters at the tease, "you don't see me harking you about your freaky ass needs!"

"That's becauuuuse," she takes a healthy gulp of her water, "I ain't got no shame in ma game."

She leaves Santana at the water cooler with her perturbed face and heads back to join in on the scrimmage while Santana goes to see the athletic therapist for some stretching instead to check out some muscle soreness.

After practice, she decides to wait for Santana and slowly changes out of her gear.

"Santana didn't even join in on practice today," Mercedes complains loudly, "bitch is all about fitness – I don't see her doing shit."

"Get over it Mercedes," she says, annoyed that Mercedes was bad-talking Santana. "Her leg hurt."

They were like, pretty much friends now and Brittany felt Santana did more than enough as a captain and the other girls were starting to get on her nerves. They didn't know Santana.

"Excuse me?" Mercedes whirls on her, "you're standing up for her?"

"She's cool," Brittany says plainly, "and what's your angle? You bitch at her when we play and then go to her parties like you're her BFF. Your bullshit is annoying."

Some girls whistle and jeer, and Mercedes is most definitely not pleased.

"When did you become her fucking fangirl?" Mercedes slams her locker. No one has ever stood up for Santana before when she's bad-mouthed by the team and Brittany regrets that.

The door opens and Santana walks in, limping, which puts an end to the fight that didn't really start yet.

Brittany is worried and asks her, "what happened?"

Santana rolls her eyes and then sits next to Brittany, she whispers so no one else can hear, "apparently I pulled a hamstring pretty bad. I got to take it easy."

"Ohhh," Brittany pats her thigh, "then we better not."

She's referring to using the dildo and she's kind of disappointed. All that anticipation gone, just like that.

"Sorry," Santana apologizes, louder than intended while standing up and grabbing her bag. "But you can still come over later to hang out."

Brittany waves her goodbye and then starts gathering her sports bag so she can leave quickly too.

Mercedes accuses her in front of everyone, "you're like her fucking soldier now the way you two hang out, I bet you tell her everything we say!"

Brittany ignores her, the term Mercedes is looking for is 'friend' and she needs to get out of here because she doesn't enjoy being on the receiving end of negative attention.

She probably should have stayed to hash it out though because as it goes, next day at practice her team gives her the cold shoulder.

"What the hell is going on!" Santana asks her at water break. "Why isn't anyone passing to you and why are you pouting?"

Brittany shrugs it off (and pouts even more), "I'm not really open so they can't, right?"

Santana of course, doesn't buy it. After scowling at Brittany for not telling her the truth, she limps back to the therapist to resume her hamstring massage and eyes everyone like a predatory hawk.

Brittany was surprised with the extent of pettiness the girls on the team were showing her.

They thought Brittany had told Santana things they said behind Santana's back, and Mercedes was still waving her pitchfork in the lead to make Brittany the team outcast.

She hated them all and was thinking of ways to get back at them until Santana decided to lose it in the locker room.

"I don't know what the fuck is going on with you all but just because I'm injured and have to chill this week does not mean you get away with fucking up everything! Our whole offence is about driving right and today nobody-"

"WENT RIGHT!" Their coach intervenes from out of nowhere and then shit gets twice as scary because of her booming megaphone. "YOU GIRLS THINK I'M AN IDIOT? I KNOW DRAMA WHEN I SEE IT AND WHATEVER THE HELL IS GOING ON-"

She takes a slow breath and then turns to a wide-eyed Santana after dropping her megaphone, "better get fixed."

When Sue leaves them in silence, Santana crosses her arms and waits for someone to speak up.

"Okay it's my fault," Brittany says because the most important thing was that her team got over their shit to pass her the pall at tomorrow's game so Sue would stop yelling through megaphones in enclosed spaces, and she was probably in the best position to end this.

Santana raises an eyebrow, not believing her for one second, but letting her try to explain.

"I called Mercedes uh, a bad name and it was totally uncalled for-"

"Everybody calls me bad names," Santana cuts her off. "You don't see me not passing them the ball."

This time the girls on the team remain quiet, and for once even Mercedes has the guts to look guilty.

"Santana," Brittany pleads, "just drop it okay?"

"Fine," Santana sucks in her bottom lip and then opens her locker, "but I will just casually put out there that if anyone of you does shit like this again I am personally campaigning to have you kicked off the team," she ends with an especially cruel sneer in Mercedes' direction and then leaves.

Brittany gathers her things and rushes out to chase Santana, ignoring someone calling her name.

"Santana," she catches up pretty easily because Santana is walking slow due to her hamstring, "I'm sorry, alright? I just didn't want to make more drama."

Santana stops walking and turns on her, "Look I get we're friends Britt, but I'm also the captain, I don't' like teammates hiding crap from me – I get enough under the belt crap from them I don't need it from you too."

"They're mad at me because of you, alright?" Brittany says, exasperated. "Yesterday Mercedes bitched about how you didn't join in so I told her to shut up and I may have also called her a bullshit-whore and then she told everybody I was your reporting-for-duty lackey who gave you everybody's dirty little secrets."

Santana looks at her and processes her explanation. She grabs Brittany's duffle bag and shoulders it before continuing to walk back towards the student homes.

With a confused look, Brittany just follows her. Like, she wants to tell Santana that carrying someone else's bag when you've got an injured leg and have to take it easy isn't the best idea… but it's endearing and sweet so she doesn't.

/

Santana scores the only goal next game which means they win, but the goal was from outside the eighteen yard box and it hooked beautifully into the top corner with so much power in her strike that the televisions around the university were replaying it over and over again, and the local news talked about it, and on top of that scouts for the National team had apparently contacted coach Sylvester.

"How's the hamstring?" Brittany asks her. They're hanging out in Santana's room and while Brittany brought a paper to work on with her, which she should really get started on, she was more interested in re-establishing their sex life that suffered a brief hiccup due to the injury.

"Uh…" Santana looks up from her laptop, "it's good. Didn't you see me kick the shit out of the ball?"

"If it's good then how come you invited me over to 'study' and we aren't having sex?"

"Because we're studying?" Santana says with a flush on her cheeks.

Rolling her eyes, Brittany rolls over onto her stomach so that she's lying next to Santana on the bed.

"I thought it was code for some FWB."

"It was," Santana confesses before closing her laptop, "I just didn't want to like, make you feel…"

She trails off and focuses on Brittany's angled neck.

"… care to finish that sentence, Miss Articulate?" Brittany teases her captivation.

"Oh shut up," Santana puts her laptop aside and then takes a quick breath before leaning down to put her lips against that soft neck and suckle.

Brittany closes her eyes and enjoys the gentleness before she remembers what exactly she's been hoping to try out and a sudden wave of arousal shoots through her.

"Wait," she gently pushes Santana's soft lips away and asks, "dildo?"

"That's such an unsexy word," Santana groans while looking back at Brittany's lips like she wanted to ravish them and leave that suggestion for another time.

"If you're not comfortable…" Brittany cups Santana's cheek and smiles, "that's okay. I'll only be a little disappointed…"

Santana looks at her closet, then back at Brittany's hopeful eyes, and gives in with an unhappy groan, "fine. Fine."

Brittany watches her get up and rustle around the bottom of her closet for a bit before bringing out a closed cardboard box.

"You haven't opened it?" Brittany asks as the box is put between them on the bed.

"No. What if someone came in my room and like, found it."

Rolling her eyes, Brittany calls her out, "you mean the person who ignores the 'danger do not enter' sign on your door? Yeah. You're right. They also go to your closet and dig around all your clothes."

Santana just crosses her arms and glares, "hey I'm the one who had to buy it, it's not like you offered."

Brittany reaches over on Santana's nighttable and picks up a tiny bottle opener to use on the package tape. After getting the box open she picks up the plastic inside and bursts into giggles.

"Is that a glow in the dark one?"

"I thought it was cool," Santana defends lamely, watching Brittany attack the hard casing eagerly.

"Put that harness on," she tells Santana as she uses her strength to rip the wrapping and hold up the glow in the dark phallus. "And I guess turn off the lights too."

Santana examines the harness in her hands before standing up from the bed and taking off her pants and underwear. She puts it on quickly without a problem, and looks down at herself before taking her top and bra off too.

Brittany holds out the dildo for her to attach, biting her lip in want.

Santana shyly takes it and then clears her throat before weaving it into the special straps.

Brittany raises herself on her knees and swallows, whispering, "this is so hot."

She grabs Santana's hair and entangles it with her hands to pull her into a kiss.

"Let me get the lights," Santana husks back at her when she manages to catch some air.

"Let me get naked," Brittany agrees, taking off her shirt and jeans.

It's not too dark that she can't see, but it's dark enough for the dildo to glow a bit and it makes Brittany giggle again. This time Santana giggles with her.

Santana helps her get her underwear off and the end of dildo nudges Brittany's stomach. It's hard and touches it to feel it's width in her palm.

"Lie down," Brittany commanded, getting Santana onto her back.

Santana rested her head on her pillow and ran her hands up Brittany's flat stomach when Brittany sat down on her waist. She cups Brittany's breasts next and then runs them back down until they were holding Brittany's hips.

"How does it feel?" Brittany asked her, using her hands to gently rub Santana's nipples.

Santana arches up into her, "I'm turned on… but this thing is huge."

"It's not that huge," Brittany says, mostly so she can see Santana's eyes pop wide at that dirty thought (which they do). "Stretch me with your finger first."

Santana does as told and Brittany kisses her more for it.

Raising her hips and pushing Santana's wrist away form her, Brittany aligns the tip of the strap-on to enter her and closes her eyes. She's so wet for this but she doesn't want to rush it, she's not that ready.

Santana's breathing gets louder beneath her, "do you need… damn that's so hot."

She can see the tip disappear into Brittany, followed by more, and soon Brittany is gasping in pleasure as she starts to gently pump herself up and down.

Santana watches her friend work herself to orgasm, letting her hands run along Brittany's muscular thighs and waist encouragingly. She feels partially useless from lying down but it's probably the hottest thing she's ever seen a woman to.

When Brittany collapses against her chest, Santana feels like she's on fire. She's beyond turned on but hadn't managed a release of her own.

"Did you?" Brittany kisses her neck and rolls off of her to the side.

"Is that possible?" Santana asks in interest.

She closes her eyes in pleasure when an exhausted Brittan cups her sex and cuddles her side to angle her wrist.

"Yeah," Brittany whispers, still out of breath, "tomorrow we'll do it again after soccer and I'll show you how."

It turns Santana on when Brittany tells her what to do like that – everything about Brittany seems to turn her on, even, like she hadn't known what real desire meant until they started hooking up.

"More," she begs her tired friend's hand, craning her neck to sweeten the sensation of those fingers with a kiss.

/

"You alright Santana?" Rachel asks her housemate over breakfast.

Santana sighs, "I don't know."

It's a step up from her usual response of a noncommittal hum when she daydreams, and Rachel knows whatever it is might actually be serious because of that.

"Do you need to sing about it?"

"NO!" Santana drops her spoon back into her cereal, "hell no."

"Do you want me to sing for you?" she offers.

"No, Rachel."

"This is about Brittany, isn't it?" Rachel presses her. "You spend a lot of time with her – are you guys going to start dating?"

"I don't know," Santana says in frustration. "I don't think she wants to date at all and…"

"Ah," Rachel lets it drop, "I see."

"It's stupid," Santana murmurs. "I think I… like her."

"While I would usually suggest a song, a bouquet of flowers, and a humble request to go steady-"

Santana rolls her eyes before putting her finger in her mouth and gagging.

"—I know you well enough to know you're incapable of that type of romantic consideration."

"Britts and I fuck a lot, but lately it's full of feelings and, shit, but I think I'm the only one feeling that way cuz she still seems 'whatever' about it."

This time Rachel is the one to make a face.

"I'll figure something out," Santana dismisses her own mood, "maybe I'll talk to her tonight at the victory party."

"Presumptuous as usual," Rachel teases her friend, "at least you're still confident!"

"You and Kurt coming to watch? It's playoffs which means I play extra-exceptional."

/

They ended up winning their first round of playoffs, and the quarter finals would happen next week out of State.

"You close?" Santana asks Brittany while slowly rotating her hips in and out behind.

"Ugh, yes," Brittany collapses from her hands and knees onto her stomach, "keep going… arms… sore…"

Santana lies flat against her back and resumes her thrusting, moaning as she gets closer.

This time Brittany had explained how she should rub herself off with the strap-on and it was much more enjoyable.

"Brittany?" Santana ask, because even though her release is so close, Brittany's body just lurched and it didn't look like she was enjoying this even though the position was her drunk idea.

When Brittany doesn't respond, Santana stops the thrusting and asks again, "are you okay Britt?"

"I don't feel so good," Brittany admits with a non-pleasurable moan, jumping away and off the bed to stick her mouth in Santana's trashcan.

She starts vomiting and it sounds horrible. But she feels ten times better when Santana's hand brushes her hair away from her face and gently rubs her back.

"I'll be right back okay?" Santana tells her gently, "I'll go get you some water."

She nods, spitting the taste from her mouth and waiting apprehensively for the next wave of nausea to strike.

Santana drops the strap-on off from her hips and kicks it under her bed before grabbing some clothes to slip on so wasn't nude heading back into the victory party.

Brittany groans after round two and thinks she's done vomiting, so she takes Santana's black robe and puts it on to stop from feeling the cold chills on her nude body.

It's just as well she covered herself because the door opens and she's about to give Santana a thankful smile, only to come face to face with some of her teammates.

It's not hard to put together what had been happening. While glow in the dark dildo was thankfully out of sight, Brittany's rustled hair and utilization of the bathrobe were telling enough.

"What are you guys doing here?" She asks, shaking off the shock of them being there and almost catching her in her birthday suit, not that she was ashamed.

Mercedes, Quinn, Marley, Kitty, Bree and even their goalie Lauren continue to stare. Brittany notices the posters of naked men they are clutching and the roll of tape Tina stumbles in with, last to arrive.

"Oh snap," Bree smiles drunkenly at her, "were you getting it on with el Capi-tain?"

Brittany feels her face heat up. Before she can say anything (she's too drunk to come up with anything except admitting to doggiestyle), Santana bumps through them with the water in her hand, "get out."

They giggle and leave, and Mercedes gives Brittany a loud, sassy, judgmental "I knew it," before leaving the room last.

Santana shuts the door and then sighs in irritation, "damn."

Brittany sinks down on the mattress, "they must have seen me go in here with you, don't get why they're so surprised."

Santana sits down next to her and hands her the water, "can't believe they thought that was a good prank. It sucked."

Brittany smiles half-heartedly and then sips the water.

"Hey, I get it, we were fucking on the DL but it's not the end of world." Santana says, noticing Brittany's gloomy demeanor.

"I'm just going to get more shit from them is all," Brittany explains before rubbing her sore forehead.

"For what? Sleeping with me?"

Brittany finishes her water, "I drank too much tequila… I better go, Santana. I'll buy you a new trashcan… um, sorry you didn't get off."

She drops the robe and starts redressing into her clothes from earlier, clothes that Santana had ripped off her body and thrown all over the room.

"You got any mouthwash?" She asks a still frozen Santana who hasn't said anything to her. Realizing this she adds, "are you okay?"

She's confused when Santana stands up and leaves the room without saying anything.

/

It becomes pretty clear to Brittany over the next week while training for the quarterfinals that Santana is avoiding her.

The teammates seem to notice this too and haven't commented on anything past the first practice back where they whistled and catcalled Brittany in the change room (but not Santana which made Brittany kind of jealous).

On the ten hour bus drive out East, Santana keeps to herself at the front of the bus with headphones in and doesn't speak to anyone except Coach Sylvester.

"I was fucking open," is the first thing Santana says to her, during their playoff match when Brittany's shot is deflected by the other team.

She doesn't get a chance to respond or defend her action because Santana gets open right away for the defense to pass it to her, and for the first time ever Brittany is sad when her team scores (because Santana got possession of the ball and dribbled it like a pro and got them the lead with that beautiful lace-top strike… but Santana won't talk to her).

At half-time, she catches Santana excuse herself after Coach Sylvester's pep talk to go wash her face so Brittany corners her at the sinks.

"What the hell, Santana?" She hisses.

Santana catches her eye in the mirror and then spins around, "let's just win this, alright?"

She's about to move around Brittany and leave, but Brittany is angry with being given the cold shoulder and frustrated with the pressure on this game so she just stops Santana with her arm and says her mind.

"You're being a frigid bitch to me for no reason! I'm sorry, are you done with using my body and don't want to be friends anymore, huh?"

She doesn't expect Santana to kiss her as a response. It's passionate and fast and they're breathing into each other. It feels so tingly that Brittany doesn't remember what's going on until she hears some chatter in the other room and realizes Santana's hands are palming her ass.

She shoves her captain off and wants to ask, again, 'what the hell?' but just ends up leaving Santana and shaking off that moment to finish the game.

They win 2-0, and Brittany can't for the life of her understand how Santana can hate on her for a week and then suddenly kiss her and follow her around.

She keeps shooting these looks that make her look like a kicked puppy and it starts to get on Brittany's nerves.

The bus ride back is festive with celebration and good moods for the first few hours before people tire out and sit back down in their seats.

Santana is on the phone for a while and the other girls start chatting in the back. Brittany decides to have fun – things are cool between everybody again and Mercedes has backed off of her ever out of an uncharacteristic courtesy.

When Tina and Sugar stop giggling next to her, Brittany looks up and sees that Santana is standing over them with her arms crossed. She's walked to the back of the coach and doesn't apologize for intruding their laughter.

"Can we talk?"

Brittany wants to say no and yell a few things at her because she's still hurt even though Santana passed the ball to her a lot in the second half and didn't say anything when Brittany messed up a few touches.

But nosy girls are listening in so the most she does is frown and clarify, "now?"

Santana's bravado seems to falter for a second but she carries forward, "Britt. Please."

It's more shocking at how soft and pleading she sounds than it is how apologetic she looks. Brittany feels her resolve crumble. She stands up and gestures Santana to go back to the front where no one could hear them.

She hears some whispers with her name but ignores them and sits next to Santana behind the snoring coaching staff.

"I'm sorry for how immature I've been," Santana says gently. "I was just acting out because um… I just…"

Brittany raises her eyebrow and scoffs, "this is a sucky apology. You ignored me."

"I didn't use you for your body, okay," Santana says angrily, "and I do want to be your damn friend."

"Oh really? Then why the cold shoulder?"

"Because I-" Santana clamps her mouth shut and closes her eyes in anguish.

"Santana…" Brittany starts, "we were getting along so well – I know you, you're not mean like everyone thinks you are… you're awesome. If you wanted to stop hooking up or it was getting weird for you-"

Brittany is cut off from speaking further as Santana leans over and kisses her lips hush. It's more of a timid touch and nothing nearly as zealous as their half-time Frenching, but it's new and full of something sweet Brittany has never felt before.

"I really like you is what happened," Santana whispers against her in confession, her eyes droopy and serious. "I wanted to tell you that night but then you just… you got sick and said you were leaving and acted like I was nothing but a fuck to you."

Brittany knows her jaw is still slack and she must look foolish. She's speechless.

"Is that all I am to you?" Santana asks her quietly. "Your goddamn human dildo?"

Since she can't get words out, she leans in and kisses Santana again, soft and sure.

They kiss slowly and calmly, sucking and nipping, and it isn't until Brittany giggles because woah, her heart is beating so fast, that Santana smiles shyly back at her and lets her breathe for real.

"Yeah?" Santana asks, like she wants to make sure Brittany understands what she's asking for.

"Yeah," Brittany grins brightly before leaning back in to have more of those delicious kisses.

fin