Author's Note: This is a series I started a while ago but never posted here. I'm interested in exploring the conscious and subconscious incremental steps that girls like Brittany and Santana take when going from a close friendship to a more intimate relationship. So that's what this series is about - my plan is to track the development of their relationship throughout 8th, 9th, 10th and into 11th grade. (I'm assuming that Season 1 was 10th, and Season 2 is beginning of 11th). Each installment will depict a sleepover, and try to capture some of those moments that may not seem like much separately, but strung together, tell the story of an ongoing and intense connection between these characters.

Also, I know a lot of Brittana shippers are in a tizzy lately, cause the show isn't really lining up with our vision of B & S. Personally, the fact that people are so invested in these characters and connected to their story just brings home to me how few representations of queer, feminine, teenage sexuality and romance there are out there. That fact is only gonna make me ship harder and write more (both fanfic and other fiction about teen girls in love) and share it with as many people as possible. I hope you like what I come up with. Read and review, y'all.


8th Grade - June

"Santana, truth or dare?"

Santana dipped the tiny brush into the pot of purple nail polish on the floor at her side and slowly pulled it out, carefully wiping the excess on the inner rim of the bottle. She swiped the polish on her left pinkie, once, twice, three times. Lifting her hand off of her knee and into the light, she into admired her handiwork. She replaced the brush in the bottle, and handed it to Brittany.

"Truth."

The dares tonight had been totally lame. She wasn't about to kiss a toilet seat or prank call a sub.

"Here, Brit, don't do it right on the pillow." Quinn was lying on the bed and tossed a magazine down to Brittany, who was sitting on the floor with one of Quinn's pink pillow shams on her lap. She laid the magazine on top, and pulled Santana's right hand toward her again.

"How far have you gotten?" Courtney had done her nails first, then promptly bit the polish off. Santana could see chips of purple stuck in her braces.

"Be more specific."

"What base?"

"Regular bases or Quinn's church bases?"

Quinn blushed. That was last year, but Santana never let things like that go.

Courtney snickered into her can of Diet Coke. "Regular bases." She lay down on the floor and leaned her bare feet on the nearest post of Quinn's canopy bed.

Brittany ran the edge of her thumb along the cuticle of Santana's right index finger, cleaning up an errant drop of polish. "Santana doesn't play baseball…"

"No, Brit, like with guys you know?" Quinn scooted to the edge of the bed and tried to sound knowing. "First is making out, second is when he puts his hand up your shirt, third is his hand…down your…" Her confidence failed her and her pale cheeks flushed again.

Santana never blushed. "Third."

"Told ya!" Courtney kicked a foot in Quinn's direction. "Quinny thought you wouldn't, cause you and Matt have only been going out for like, two weeks."

"It just seemed soon. For the first time you…" Quinn's voice was soft, her gaze roamed the room.

Santana made Quinn look her dead in the eye. "Wasn't the first time."

Courtney hyucked up a mouthful of soda, laughing and spluttering as she raised herself up onto one elbow to avoid choking.

Quinn opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. She closed it again.

Santana moved to cross her arms over her chest, but Brittany kept hold of her right hand, blowing on her nails to dry them. So Santana just let her left hand rest on her right elbow, and felt Brittany's breath, soft and steady against her skin.

Courtney was sitting up now.

"Brittany, your turn. Truth or…"

Brittany looked up. "I got to third base with my cousin."

Even Quinn laughed at that one.

"Brit…" Santana scooted closer and nudged Brittany with her shoulder. "Alex isn't really your cousin. He's just your aunt's stepkid."

"Oh."

"Anyway, that doesn't count. You didn't even pick truth or dare. Now you HAVE to do a dare."

"Now you HAVE to do a dare." Santana mimicked Courtney, rolling her eyes.

"You don't have to Brittany, if you don't want."

Santana thought sometimes Quinn just talked to hear herself sound like voice of reason.

"No, it's cool."

Brittany would always rather do something than talk about doing something.

"What do you want me to do?"

Courtney hopped up and retrieved her overnight bag from the far side of Quinn's bedroom. She pulled out a t-shirt and unrolled it. Her old hardcase ipod cover fell from the folds of the shirt.. When she opened the case, there was no ipod. Instead, a few of her mom's Parliament Menthol Lights were rolling around in there. She held the case out to Brittany.

"Smoke one."

Quinn leapt down off the bed, all pretense of the good hostess gone. "Not in my room!" Her voice came out in a panicked, raspy hiss.

Brittany shrugged and picked one of the three cigarettes. "I'll do it on the roof. Hold this San."

She handed Santana the cigarette and crossed to her pile of sleepover gear. She picked her jacket up and slid it on. It was her dad's old letterman jacket from McKinley, and even rolled up, the sleeves hung past her wrists.. She hiked them up and snapped a few of the jacket's buttons closed. The bottom hem came to her knees, covering her shorts. She shoved her feet into sneakers, not bothering with socks or doing the laces.

She grabbed the cigarette back from Santana on her way to the window. It was open already, venting the nail polish fumes. With a swift, graceful motion, she slipped one long leg through, then her body, then pulled her other leg behind.

Quinn broke the silence. "I'm no expert or anything, but doesn't she need a lighter or something?"

Courtney had fished one out of her bag. Santana snatched it up and followed Brittany out the window.

"Make sure she smokes the whole thing!" Courtney called after her.

The roof outside Quinn's window was the roof of the Fabray's kitchen addition. It was almost flat.

Brittany had walked a few steps away from the window. Santana could see her, sitting with her back against the house, legs stretched out in front her. The cigarette was in her right hand, forgotten. All of Brittany's attention was on the night sky.

The night was cold for June, goosebumps rose on Santana's arms and legs. The roof shingles were rough and pebbly under her bare feet. She gingerly picked her way over to Brittany and sat down.

"Look San, make a wish." Brittany pointed up.

Santana smiled. "B, that's a plane."

Brittany smiled back. "Way more wishes when planes count."

Brittany unbuttoned her jacket and slid her arms out of the sleeves. She held the oversized coat open, and Santana slipped in, close against Brittany, and pulled the jacket closed around them both.

Brittany was warm; Santana wrapped her right arm around her friend's waist to get warmer. For a quiet moment, they watched the plane blink in the sky.

"You're supposed to be smoking that." Santana nodded toward the cigarette.

"Right." Brittany put the cigarette between her lips and waited.

Santana slipped the jacket back on her left shoulder and took her arm away from Brittany, freeing her hands, feeling the cold night rush against her skin again. She flicked the lighter, once, twice, before it caught. Santana cupped her left hand around the flame and brought it to the end of the cigarette.

"Suck in. Not too hard. Like, tinytiny."

Brittany obediently took a small puff.

"Blow it out now."

Brittany blew too hard, like blowing the candles on a birthday cake.

Santana giggled. "Not like that."

Brittany tried again, but this time breathed in deep and gagged as soon as the mentholated smoke hit her throat. She coughed. Even in the dim light, Santana could see Brittany's face redden and her eyes tear up. She took the cigarette from Brittany with her left hand and rubbed her back in slow circles with her right. "Take a little breath."

Brittany sniffled, calming.

"Smoke it all Brittany!" Courtney's voice sing-songed through the open window.

"Shut up C, she's doing it." Santana called back.

"Guys!" Quinn shushed them. "You're gonna wake up my parents."

Inside the room, Quinn crossed to the window. She waved away the smell of smoke that was wafting in, and stuck her head out.

"San," she whispered. "I'm gonna close this most of the way. But its not like, locked or anything. Just push it up when you guys wanna get back in. Okay?"

Quinn stayed leaning on the sill for a minute, waiting for an answer. Brittany and Santana were in the shadows, but she could see the pin point light of the burning cigarette as it passed between them. Their soft whispers and muffled laughter floated off into the dark hush of night.

No one answered Quinn. The cold crept over the sill, crawling up onto her bare arms and neck. She shivered, then slid the window almost all the way down and turned back into her bedroom.

On the roof, Brittany was trying another drag on the cigarette, with minimal success.

"It's just gross."

"Just give it to me, I'll finish it."

Brittany handed the cigarette back. Her fingers brushed against Santana's. Santana let the pads of her finger tips linger, feeling the smooth polish on Brittany's nails.

Free of the cigarette, Brittany wrapped both her arms around Santana's waist and cuddled closer.

"Why is it so cold? Its almost summer."

Santana took a drag, deeper and much more expert than Brittany's had been. She didn't like smoking, much. But it was a skill that came in handy sometimes.

Three more drags and the cigarette was almost gone.

"Blow some on me, so Courtney thinks I smoked it all."

Santana took in a lungful of smoke and blew a soft steady stream onto Brittany's skin, against her neck, her ear, across her cheek, her mouth.

Brittany squirmed against Santana. "Tickles."

Santana flicked the butt away, watched it arc off the roof and land in the Fabray's front yard. The ember died in the grass, wet from the sprinklers.

She turned back to Brittany and really tickled her, running her fingertips quickly against the sides of her ribs.

Brittany laughed out loud then, and the sound went skipping through the quiet night, echoing off the roof and walls. Santana clapped a hand over her mouth. "Shh...Quinn'll freak out."

"Quit tickling me then." Brittany giggled into Santana's hand, and then stuck out her tongue, a quick lick against Santana's palm.

"We should go in."

Santana stood up first, and waited while Brittany pulled her jacket all the way back on. She helped her to her feet, and they moved together toward the bedroom window. As the drew closer, Santana saw that Quinn had turned the lights out. She and Courtney were asleep on the bed, laying head to foot.

"Lame."

"What San?"

"Nothing. But next weekend, sleepover at my house. Just me and you."

Brittany nodded. "Sure, just me and you."

Santana pushed the window open, but let Brittany slip through first. She followed, and closed the window behind them.

A little light seeped in from Quinn's bathroom, where her old Noah's arc nightlight was still plugged in. It was enough for Santana to find her bag, and dig her toothbrush out from the side pocket. She slipped off to the bathroom to brush the smoke taste out of her mouth.

When she returned, Brittany had set up their sleeping bags the usual way, both of them unzipped all the way, one on top of the other, making one bigger bed. Santana grabbed a couple of pillows and tossed one to Brittany.

They settled down, their combined warmth making it cozy, even on Quinn's hard floor.

"Goodnight Brittany."

"You're minty now."

Brittany turned over, finding a comfortable spot on her pillow. Santana put her cold toes on Brittany's calves. Brittany gave a tiny yelp, but didn't really mind.

"Sweet dreams San."

Santana closed her eyes, but couldn't sleep right away. She could hear Quinn, tossing in her sleep, and Courtney, mumbling as she tried to avoid Quinn's kicking feet. Beside her, Brittany was fast asleep in seconds, her breathing quiet and even. Santana matched her breath with Brittany's and like always, the peaceful steady rhythm soothed her into sleep.