I know what you're thinking. "Why did I just get a story alert for this fic? Wasn't it completed two years ago? Do people still write Glee fic? Did I just go back in time?"

Alas, you did not. But somehow, my writing muse did, and I've started a sequel to this story. Since it stems directly from this one, and takes place just a few months after this story ends, I decided to add a sneak preview here so that all the people who had this fic on "story follow" (many more than the number who have me on "author follow") would get the alert. Maybe most of you would rather read a 50 Shades/Fox News mash-up than venture back into the world of Glee. Maybe you left it years ago and will never look back. I get that! I thought I had, too. But just in case anyone still wants to catch up with my versions, I thought I'd let you know I was starting a new one. Below I'll post a short snippet from the beginning of the chapter so I'm not breaking FF rules about adding author's notes, or you can just go directly to the fic itself by clicking back out to my profile. It's called Matchmakers, and that's where the rest of the author's note is as well.

Thanks!

Matchmakers Preview

Chapter 1

Coffee. Check. Waffles with strawberries and whipped cream. Check. Vase. Check. Flower...

Whoops, she'd almost forgotten the flower. Brittany turned around and drew a single yellow rose from the display on the kitchen table, snipped the end of it with a pair of scissors from Mr. Bloom's cluttered junk drawer, and then slid it into the small, slender vase, just behind the plate of Belgian waffles. She moved the coffee cup and saucer an inch to the left, then stood back a bit to survey the breakfast tray with a slight smile of anticipation, hands clasped under her chin. Perfect.

Careful to keep it balanced, she lifted the tray and carried it out of the kitchen, toward the master bedroom, being extra cautious to watch her step in the dim lighting. Mr. Bloom's apartment was darker than theirs, the living room paneled in varnished maple bookshelves overflowing with his lifetime's worth of bibliomania. The drapes were likewise heavy and thick, perfect for a man who probably spent a good deal of his time hungover. When they were closed, even at the brightest part of the morning, they left the room in dim shadow, which also worked out well for convincing their talkative feathered friend that it wasn't really time to get up yet. Brittany tiptoed past the sheet-draped bird cage, hoping not to hear any muttered words about Tony Awards or man jugs. She paused, wincing, at a slight noise like feathers ruffling, but then continued on when there was nothing else.

Slipping into the dark, quiet bedroom, she tiptoed across the bare floor and set the tray gently down on the bedside table. Slowly, without making a sound, she crossed to the window and drew the drapes back, not all the way, just enough to let in a thin spear of morning light across the quilt. Then she moved over to the bed and sank down onto it in a sitting position, crossing her legs underneath her, getting comfortable, and preparing to indulge in one of her favorite morning rituals... watching Santana wake up.

(continued under the title Matchmakers)