"Alright Mom! Dad! I'm gone!"

"Not so fast, young lady," her mother says, rounding the corner out of the kitchen. "Where is this concert?"

"At the Ziegler Amphitheatre," Brittany answers, fiddling anxiously with her watch. "Can I go now?"

"And who's going with you?"

"Mom."

Brittany's dad turns up in the nick of time. "It's okay sweetie," he says, draping an arm around his wife's shoulders. "Have a good time and be home by curfew. Oh, and here," he adds, digging into his pants pocket. "Just in case," he says, handing her over a couple of bills.

"Thanks Dad," Brittany squeals, launching herself at him and giving him a tight hug, kissing his scratchy cheek. "Be back later," she calls behind her, taking off out of the front door and jumping over the steps of her porch, running to the car still stalling at the curb.

"What took you so long?" Tina asks, making room for the blonde in the back seat.

"The parentals were being weird. Got fifty bucks though so they're not all bad," she grins, holding up the wrinkled bills.

"Nice. Ten of that's going on gas though," Mike informs her, peeking back at the pair through the rear-view mirror.

"Whatever," Brittany shrugs, buckling up. "I just can't wait until we get there."

"Hi Brittany."

The blonde tenses a little before turning her attention to him. "Hi Artie."

She really hadn't expected him to tag along and you would've figured he'd leave her alone after that whole 'I'm so gay I crap rainbows' song and dance she did for her entire class.

But, no such luck.

Artie pushes his glasses up on his nose. "You look really pretty tonight."

"Thank you," she says, giving him a tight smile and breathing a sigh of relief when he finally turns back around. She looks over at Tina and the other girl mouths 'sorry' to her before nodding her head in Mike's direction.

The boy looking through the mirror winces. "You know what, Brit? You can keep the ten."

*o*O*o*

"You cannot wear that shirt."

Santana looks down at herself, the cotton tee fitting snugly and coming to an end just above her low-riding jeans. "I actually believe I am wearing it."

"That's not what I mean," Quinn says, sitting up on the other girl's bed. "You can't wear it because I'm going to look like the fugly one standing next to you in my zip-up hoodie."

"Aww, you mad Q?" Santana chuckles, going back to outing the finishing touches on her make-up.

"No. Just pissed about this baby-weight. Why do you have to gain weight when you're pregnant anyway? This just is another tick in the column for 'God is a man'," the blonde grumbles, flopping back down.

Santana rolls her eyes and puts down the mascara, walking over to her bed. "Don't be ridiculous Q. You're gorgeous."

Quinn grins even though her eyes are closed. "You're just saying that."

"Yeah, I totally am," Santana deadpans, guffawing when a pillow flies in her direction. "Quit being a Debbie-downer, man. We're going to see the Breadstix tonight. To. Night."

"I know. I know," Quinn groans, opening her eyes and holding out her hands. "Pull me up."

Santana obliges and quickly helps the other girl to her feet, her hand sliding around to her lower back as she tries to steady her.

"Santana, I love you like a sister. Groping is not acceptable," Quinn chuckles, pushing the brunette away.

"As if," the dark-haired girl mumbles, looking away shyly.

She really hated that she had come out to Quinn first of all people, because now the blonde wouldn't shut up about it.

"Come on, girl," Quinn says, draping an arm around her friend's shoulders. "It's time to get Stix-faced."

*o*O*o*

Brittany was staring at the ticket man.

"But our tickets say Row B, seats eleven, twelve, thirteen and fourteen. How are we not sitting by each other?" Tina asks; hand on her hip as she stares down the older man.

"Look kid," the guy says, rather rudely too. "I don't make the rules. I check the ticket. I seat the ticketholder. End of story. Now, seat twelve is in this row, do you want in or not, blondie?"

Brittany looks at her friends sadly, not enjoying the fact that they're going to be split up.

Mike gives her a little smile and Tina steps forward to speak. "We'll call you when we get to our seats, okay? Maybe we'll get lucky and someone'll want to switch."

Brittany nods and reluctantly, steps into the aisle and taking a seat on the fold-down chair, waiting.

*o*O*o*

"Oh hell-to-the-NO! I paid good money for these tickets and I am definitely getting in," Mercedes booms, startling the entire crowd of people behind them.

"Damn, Cedes," Santana mumbles, sticking a finger in her ear. "I don't think they heard you in Australia."

"I'm sorry, girl. But if this guy thinks he's splitting us up he's got another thing coming," Mercedes continues, neck action and finger-shaking in full effect.

Quinn and Santana turn to each other and commence the rock-paper-scissor style game, which Quinn promptly loses, which means Mercedes is now officially solely Quinn's problem.

So while Quinn's pulling Mercedes away, explaining to her the new seating arrangements, Santana ducks into the aisle-way and into the curtain and marvels at how incredibly huge the thing looks from the inside.

She absently makes her way to her seat, plopping straight down without paying too much attention.

"Wow!" she breathes, never having seen this many people in one place before. At least, not up close. She has a television after all.

"Uh huh," someone agrees to the right of her and her head whips in that direction, leaving her with a flash of pale skin and a mouthful of hair.

Brittany giggles, unable to help herself with the Latina spits out a few strands of her own hair. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Santana frowns, not used to being laughed at. "You didn't."

"Oh," is the blonde's return response and she just turns back to facing front, her eyes aimlessly searching an empty stage.

"Oh hellz no! And we're a whole three rows back! I wantz my money back!" Santana fights off a snicker while sinking lower in her seat, because although they are her friends, she does not want to be associated with them right now.

"Someone's angry," Brittany says, but she never looks away from the stage.

"Are you talking to me?" Santana asks, somewhat intrigued.

Brittany looks at her as if just realizing she'd been sitting there. "Sure," she says, smiling brightly.

Santana mirrors it for a moment, reflexively of course, before her poker face is back on. "So, you came to the concert alone?"

Brittany shakes her head back and forth. "My friends and I got separated. The ticket guy said that those were the rules or something. It's kind of a bummer."

"Yeah, me too," Santana nods, risking a glance at her friends. Mercedes is sitting in a chair now, arms folded across her chest and face frozen in annoyance. Quinn's next to her looking completely relieved that the other girl has finally calmed her tits. "But, it'll be alright, I guess," she says, turning her attention back to the blonde. "We can be each other's friends for the night."

Brittany's grin gets brighter. "I'd like that."

*o*O*o*

Pretty soon the venue is packed to the brim with young adults and teenagers, the anxious energy in the air making the place buzz.

Brittany and Santana made small talk the whole while, sharing names, talking about friends and family, and, of course, "The Breadstix".

"Favorite song: Go," Santana says, leaning forward in her seat a little.

"Oh that's easy, Meatballs and Mariana," Brittany supplies without even having to think about it. "Yours?"

"Lasagna Lover," Santana answers, gripping the armrest of her chair. "Hottest band member?" she asks hesitantly, shyly averting her gaze.

Only for a moment though.

Brittany grins. "Well, Puck's pretty hot," she starts, carefully observing Santana's reaction and noting that her shoulders slump just a little bit. "But, to be honest, none of them can hold a candle to Rachel."

Santana's cheeks warm and her jaw comically drops open, stunned into shock. "For real?"

Brittany nods. "Uh huh."

"You're getting more interesting by the second Brittany," Santana says, smirking a little.

*o*O*o*

"What's up Ohio?"

Everyone jumps to their feet when the band finally files onto the stage, microphones in hand. Rachel Berry, the lead singer, walks out to the center of the stage, the spotlight shining brightly on her.

"I know we kind of messed you guys up on the seating arrangements but we wanted our fans to get to know one another and it was all Finn's idea so if you want to blame anyone, blame him."

Finn does a little drum roll and about a hundred and one girls swoon.

Pfft.

Drummers.

Santana and Brittany are still standing, less than twenty feet away from the stage actually.

And they're dead middle too so it's almost like Rachel is looking directly at them when she points at the audience suddenly.

"Alright! This one's for you, Lima."

Finn kicks in the bass line and Puck and Sam start strumming on their guitars, swaying from side to side and encouraging the audience to do so as well.

"This song is for anybody," Rachel tells them. "Anybody looking for love. Here's hoping you can find it. Maybe tonight."

Brittany and Santana turn to each other just as Rachel starts the first verse, grinning shyly at one another.

Brittany boldly grabs Santana's hand and the brunette smiles wider, listening to the words of the song.

Rachel:

He was a nice fine boy, wearing skinny jeans

His hair was unkempt but his shirt was clean

Saw him sitting on the side with a few of his friends

Sam:

She was a pretty girl, in a baby tee

Looking like something off a movie screen

And no that's not where the story ends

Both:

You may think that I've lost my mind

But I'm telling you it was love at first sight

All:

Maybe tonight….

Is the night, that we will (we will)

Fall in love

"This is awesome," Brittany yells at the side of the other girl's face but Santana hasn't ever looked away, finding it much more entertaining to watch the way Brittany's face and eyes light up when she's happy.

"Yeah," she mumbles absently. "Awesome."

*o*O*o*

"Good night Ohio!"

The crowd is deafening, and it's no surprise that the hometown rock stars are getting such a warm reception. What is a surprise is Brittany and Santana are not part of that booming crowd.

Nope, they're out in the vestibule, kissing like there's no tomorrow.

"You've got my number right?" Santana asks huskily, her eyes unfocused and crossed as they meet Brittany's.

"I think so," Brittany nods, diving back in. "And you've got mine?"

"Memorized," the brunette mutters, her palm pressed against the brick wall on the side of Brittany's head. "But just in case I stored it on my phone too."

"Good," Brittany breathes, cinching Santana's shirt in her hands, pulling her in tighter. "That's good."

*o*O*o*

Santana finally catches up to Quinn and Mercedes at the main entrance to the venue, the pair looking decidedly sullen.

"What's wrong?"

Quinn holds up a hand and shows how she's attached to Mercedes at the wrist with those little plastic zip-tie cuffs.

"Oh shit," Santana snorts, seeing that Mercedes' other hand is in fact tethered to a small bicycle rack. "What did you do?"

Quinn openly glares at Santana when Mercedes snaps. "I didn't do nothing. That stupid usher said something about not bringing food from outside in and tried to take away my tots. I was like, Oh, hell no!"

Santana shrugs. "So what?"

"So…I may or may not have hit him in the process but nobody's touches my tater tots and now that fool has a black eye for a reminder," Mercedes continues to sass and Quinn just shakes her head.

"How was your night?"

Santana smiles, and then smiles some more and then smiles some more.

"It was alright."

*o*O*o*

"Britt! Over here!"

Brittany can't see Tina but she can hear her voice and she can just make out her hand waving above the throngs of people.

In a short time, she's standing next to them all, Artie's wheelchair loaded with a ton of concert paraphernalia.

"We saw you from where we were sitting," Mike says, sharing a knowing look with Tina as he holds her. "Where's your friend?"

"She went to catch up with her friends," Brittany replies, feeling her cheeks heat up.

"So, I'm guessing you had a good time, then?" Tina asks, relaxing into Mike's embrace.

"Best. Concert. Ever."