Friday morning Psychology sucks. It sucks like crying for two weeks. It sucks like doing a round off and landing face down, eight times. It sucks like seeing Brittany's Facebook status change to "It's Complicated." Almost as much as it sucked when she changed it to "In an Open Relationship" last summer, although, Santana did eventually figure out that Brittany was trying to tell her she was open to a relationship with her. It sucks like gaining five pounds and feeling as squishy as one of the twinkies Santana used to watch Brittany suck the creamy filling out of. It sucks like the nine times she's called just to have it go straight to voicemail. It just sucked.

Santana was miserable. Not regular miserable, either. Like nuclear meltdown miserable. Like she saw a leggy blonde wearing red in the cafeteria yesterday and burst into tears miserable. Everything hurt. Oh, and by the way, the novelty of some random chick smiling in the library wears off really fast. That big ass neon sign that lit up with YOU HAVE OPTIONS dimmed pretty quickly when she realized she didn't necessarily need other options. She had the best option already. She'd spent three years agonizing over that option. She had the fantastic fortune of being optioned almost daily for a year. She was in love with that option. The distance hadn't made her any less in love, it just made her an idiot. Yeah, because whatever her relationship status was, and it was still up in the air, she was officially a douchebag.

To make it worse, she had 9:00 AM Intro to Psych with Professor Atwater. This guy was the most boring blowhard ever. He made Will Schuester look like a week-long, acid-fueled, underground rave. If Professor Dulljeans said auditory cortex one more time, he was going to receive and process her going postal. She hadn't gone Lima Heights on anyone in approximately six months and her rage meter was reaching critical territory.

She figured she could just leave. She could walk out, right? Sure, there were at least 100 other people here. Atwater wouldn't even notice. So, she did. She slid her book into her backpack. She stood up and she walked out. She walked out of the building. She walked past the path that would have taken her back to her dorm room and to the parking lot instead. She walked to her car, got in, and started driving. It didn't even occur to her what she was doing until she was merging onto 71 toward Cincinnati.

She was going to get her girl back.

If only she had the right song for this occasion. A song that said, 'I love you and I was stupid!' A song that said, 'I don't want to break up with you unofficially!' A song that said, 'I was suuuuuch a fuckbag!' If only. But, she did know who would have the perfect song for this. The person who, while the most annoying human on this planet, had a perfect song for everything. Rachel Berry!

Okay, bad idea.

"I would love to help you win back your Sapphic lovemate, but I too, am dealing with a heartbreak. As you may or may not have heard Finn and I have parted ways romantically. I'm afraid I don't have the emotional depths available at this juncture to sing your reconciliation song for Brittany."

"I'm not asking you to sing to her, Berry," Santana told her over the phone. "I just need a song recommendation."

"Oh, that's a simple request. Are you sure you don't need me to serenade her? I mean, my voice does have a vulnerable quality that I'm sure will lure her back into your awaiting arms. You may need the extra oomph. I heard what you did. And may I say, even I thought it was brutal."

"I don't need your opinion, dwarf."

"I Honestly Love You," Rachel suggested.


"The song!"

"What?" Santana scoffed. "That's ridiculous. I'm not singing I Honestly Love You to Brittany. I was thinking something more upbeat. Like...Love Hurts?"

"What? Santana I vehemently disagree with your choi-"

"Bye Berry. Thanks." When she hung up she added, "For nothing."

Santana thought she had made a great choice. Love does hurt. Love does scar. She blazed down the highway pretty sure of herself, actually. That was until she got just a bit worried about getting the band together for a performance. They didn't just materialize on demand and she'd definitely need the band for that one. Hmm.

Maybe she should ask somebody else.


"Oh, of course, I have a song recommendation. I have a ton, girl. Lemme see, my girl Whitney's I Will Always Love You. Then there's Ain't No Mountain High Enough to keep me from gettin'. to. you. You already know that one."

"Yeah," Santana acknowledged reluctantly. "Those are good, but..."

"But?" Mercedes asked. "Those are classics."

"Yeah, but classics are a little cliche," Santana said. "What about Love Will Tear Us Apart?"

"What the hell, Santana?" Mercedes squealed. "Are you actually trying to get her ba-"

"Thanks, 'Cedes."

That was it. Love Will Tear Us Apart. It was Joy Division! Not cliche at all. Nope. Although, vocally it may not suit her. Hmm.

Who always has good, solid, respectable ideas? Quinn. Quinn will know just what to do.

"Santana, you've got to whip out the big guns for this. I heard all about the breakup and it was harsh."

"Harsh? I sang her a beautiful song and then set her free," Santana said defensively.

"Then why are you asking about a song to get her back?"

"Because I'm an idiot."

"Yep," Quinn agreed without much fanfare. "Go big or go home. My Girl. Temptations."

"That's a great song," Santana agreed. "But I was thinking something more modern. Something more like Goodbye My Lover."

"What? No! No, don't sing that to her, Sant-"

Goodbye My Lover! That's literally the perfect song to sing to Brittany right now. With lyrics like "Remember us and what we used to be." Yes. Goodbye My Lover. Goodbye my friend.

But, foolproof plans: not always foolproof. Just as she was taking the Lima exit, 'Mine' came on the radio. One minute into the song, she was seriously rethinking the whole thing. Brittany must hate her. Santana hated herself, so Brittany must really, really hate her. When she finally stopped to listen to the lyrics, she was horrified. Why the hell did she go with this song? Geez, it must have felt like she gave Brittany a box of DOTS and then slapped them out of her hand as soon as she got them open.

There was no way she could just show up and sing a song. She needed to grovel. She needed to beg. She needed to crawl until her knees were bloodied from rocks and glass. Okay, maybe not all that. She did need to apologize profusely, though. And maybe even buy an actual box of DOTS.

When Santana got into town, she drove straight home. She ran in and grabbed a WMHS cheerleading hoodie from sophomore year. She wasn't sure why she felt the need to do it, but she switched cars to her mom's Buick. She searched around until she found an old lady pair of sunglasses that were stashed in the console and headed to the high school on a mission.

School would be out by now. And it was Friday night, so there wouldn't be an after school cheerleading practice. If she cut down the right street, she could probably...yeah. Brittany. The blonde was walking home, hands tucked into the straps of her backpack. Santana slowed down to 4 mph and rolled slowly behind her. She had white sleeves on under her uniform, but those long legs were on display. Legs. She had always known the magic of the Cheerios attire, but it was even more awe-inspiring on one Brittany Pierce. It was probably the way the pleats sashayed over her ass. Day-um her girlfriend was foine. Her ex-girlfriend. Her unofficial ex-girlfriend who hopefully would become her official girlfriend again by the end of the night.

As they both came to a stop at an intersection, she saw who she initially thought was Brandon, Brittany's similar looking cousin greet her. Brandon was a few years older than them and was a Chicken Wrangling Supervisor over at the Perdue Chicken Farms. He was a cool guy, in fact, he was the one who usually hooked them up with alcohol. She wondered for a second if she had his number. Brittany usually called in that favor. She was busy with the thought when she realized "Brandon" was actually Sam Evans.

What the hell was Sam Evans doing talking to Brittany? And why was Sam Evans standing so close to her unofficial ex-girlfriend? Why was Sam Evans smiling his big dopey fucking smile at her? Why was Sam Evans moving closer and putting his arm around her?

Sam Evans obviously had a death wish.

Santana did a lightning quick look around her mother's car. Why didn't that woman keep weapons in here? She checked under the seat. Nothing. She checked above the visor. Nothing. She checked in the backseat. A snow scraper. That would work. Santana cranked down the window and chucked that motherfucking snow scraper at Sam Evans' head harder than a dodgeball at a particularly nerdy nerd.

When the snow scraper was about halfway there, she had a sudden realization. She wasn't technically supposed to be in Lima. Or Ohio even. She certainly wasn't supposed to be creeping down a side street behind Brittany. She wasn't supposed to be tossing snow gear out her mom's car window at former classmates. This was probably not the best idea she's ever had.

She pulled her hood up and ducked down right before she heard a loud girly scream.

A minute or so later when she slowly lifted her eyes to the driver's side window, she found that was caught. Caught of the red-handed variety. Brittany was actually standing there, handing the snow scraper back to her through the open window.

Santana took it quickly and wiped the trace of blood off on her pant leg before tossing it in the floorboard. She'd ditch it in the bins behind QwikMart later.

"Hi Santana," Brittany said, eyes barely meeting hers.

"Hi Britt." Santana sat up quickly, brushing off her sweatshirt nervously.

"You hit Sam with that."

"Did I?" Santana asked with a false innocence. "I didn't mean to."

Brittany's shoulders drooped even more, "Were you trying to hit me?"


"Then why were you hiding?"

"I was trying to be incognito."

"Is that some special kind of mosquito?"

"No," Santana's lips quirked up. She missed this girl. "I was hoping you wouldn't see me."

"Well, I do."

"Yeah, I know."

"What are you doing here? I thought you couldn't come home for a while. Don't you have practice?"

"Uh." That was about the time that Santana remembered that she actually did have practice that evening. Whoops. "I do, but..."


"I wanted to see you." Santana watched as Brittany fought hard not to smile at the declaration. "You think maybe...we could hang out?"

"Football game."

"Yeah, I know," Santana said. "After?"


"It's date night."

"Was date night, Santana." Brittany told her with a shake of her head.

"Will you go out with me tonight?" Santana asked. "Then it'll be date night."

"I was going to Breadstix with Sam tonight," Brittany pointed over toward the boy who was still holding his t-shirt to his neck to stop the bleeding from the snow scraper.

"Are you two..."

"Me and Sam?" Brittany's eyes darted over to him. "Maybe. I don't know."


"Why does it matter, though? I thought we decided we could date other people."

"I don't want to date other people."

"Since when?"

"Since four years ago when I met you. Since the first day of cheerleading tryouts when you walked into the gym. Remember Sue kicked you off the bleachers to test your reflexes and then she burst my eardrum by yelling into her megaphone too close. We bonded in the nurse's office."

"Of course, I do." Brittany smiled at the memory.

"It was the first time you smiled at me. I think you had a concussion, but it still counts."

"I didn't have a concussion, I had a concussion."

"Yeah," Santana nodded. "I've just wanted to date you every day since then, too. "

"Then why did you sing a Taylor Swift song and then break up with me, Santana?"

"I don't know!"

"We swore we'd never use TSwift against each other. You promised. And then you broke that promise and you broke my heart."

Santana didn't have much of a defense against that. It was true. She did break a promise and then Britt's heart. She broke hers in the process, too.

"Well," Brittany bit her lip. "I guess I'll see you around. I have to make sure Sam doesn't bleed to death."

"Not a huge loss," Santana mumbled.


"Bought a luge toss," the brunette said the second time around.


"Caught an albatross!" Santana tried again.

"Cool," Brittany said. "Maybe you can show me sometime. Like, next time you come home. Whenever that'll be."

"Britt!" Santana yelled out the window.

Brittany stopped and gave her a small wave. "Be careful going back."

She should go back. She should go home, get back in her car and drive to Louisville. There's no way she could make cheer practice. She'd probably get lectured, but she could always fake an illness. There were so many reasons she should just go back.

And one excellent reason to stay.

She watched her reason walk back over to Sam, ass hypnotizing her the whole time. Santana cringed when Brittany stood up on her tiptoes to look at his injury. She glared as she thought she she saw Brittany apologize for her. And, she almost came unglued when she was almost certain that Sam shot her a little smirk as Brittany rubbed his back.

There was no way in hell she was going back to Louisville now. Not with that unofficial ex-girlfriend stealer walking around freely. She reached back down to the floorboard and picked up her snow scraper. She tucked it into her sock and pulled her jeans back down over it. She might need it later.

She gave Sam a warning glare before throwing the Buick in drive. She planned to speed away from the intersection. She would have loved a dramatic tire squealing scene. Instead there was a loud pop like a backfire, a rev, a stall, and a jerk before she slowly motored away. Not as convincing as she was hoping for.

When she got back home, she dragged herself into the house, up the stairs, and flung herself onto her bed. She'd never really considered that Brittany may not want to get back together. That never really crossed her mind. She thought Brittany would always be there. Brittany was her girl. Hers. Not fucking Sam Evans' girl. That fucking dweeb with his stupid impressions and his big ass lips and his stupid Bieber hair. What a fucking jackass.

She looked over to her memory board. It still had a picture that Brittany had drawn over the summer and tacked up. Santana was in Louisville and Brittany was in Lima, but they were still holding hands over the distance. Geez, Brittany was a genius.

Just a few hours later, she was planted in the stands at a Lima home football game. She vowed to keep an eye on her unofficial ex and that Belieber she was cavorting with.

"This is weird," Santana told the person next to her. "I've never seen a game from this high up before. Not having to be on the lookout for a huge sweaty linebacker to completely flatten me makes it halfway enjoyable."

"Cool," the guy said before returning his attention to the game.

Just a few minutes later, Sam was sacked pretty hard by the opposing D-Line.

"Yeah! Get that blonde fucker!" Santana stood up and cheered. "Kill him! Kill him!"

She suddenly felt out of place when she realized the entirety of Lima's bleacher section was looking at her. She slowly sank back down onto her seat. "He's trying to steal my girlfriend," she explained to her buddy in the stands.

"Oh," he said. "That explains it."

"She's down there," Santana pointed to Brittany, who was currently flipping like a mad woman down the sidelines. "She's the blonde with the legs, ass, and body that makes you want to press against her in tight spaces."

"I can see that," the guy said angling for a better view.

"Okay, stop perving, asshole," Santana said.

Great! Now she had two jackasses to beat off with her snow scraper.

After the game, she waited for Brittany to emerge from the locker room. When she saw her, her heart fluttered. Note: Don't break up with the girl that makes your heart flutter, Santana. Brittany had traded in her Cheerios uniform for a pair of jeans and a long sleeved McKinley High shirt. Her hair was thrown back and her bag was hanging off her shoulder.

"Hey!" Santana said as she stepped in line with her. "I thought you were going to Breadstix. You don't look like you're going to Breadstix."

"I'm not," Brittany answered, readjusting her bag.

"So, if you're not hanging out with Sam, you can hang out with me."

"I'm still hanging out with Sam, Santana."

"But you just said-"

"He's coming over."

"To your house? Do you parents know? Will they be there? Did you mom make a pie?"

"Yes. Yes. No. and Apple."

Santana gasped, "Apple? She only makes apple for me!"

"Just because you're not around to enjoy the apple, doesn't mean she should stop making the apple."

"Even your mom is moving on."

"I guess so..." Brittany said.

"And they're okay with their teenage daughter hanging out with some boy in their house?"

Brittany stopped abruptly, "As okay as they were knowing what we were doing in my room when you stayed over."

"You're not doing that."

"Whoa, what?"

"You're not sleeping with Sam," Santana took a step back. "Are you sleeping with Sam?"

"Is that any of your business?"




"Just because you're a lesbian, San-"

"No, no, this has nothing to do with me being a lesbian," Santana argued. "This is about you...sleeping with...anybody that isn't me."

"Okay, you should have thought about that before you sang a song about me being the best thing that's ever been yours and then dumping me."

"I said I was sorry about that."

"And I forgive you," Brittany said as turned away from Santana. She made it a few steps before she called back over her shoulder, "Go back to Louisville."

Why was Brittany making this so fucking hard? It was the question that kept rolling through Santana's mind like a marquee. She had to know they belonged together. She just had to. And why in the hell did being gone for a couple of months make climbing up the Pierce trellis so much more difficult. Pete and his fucking ivy. She'd kept this squashed down for years, Brittany's dad must be elated that she's gone.

She'd almost made it to Britt's second story window, when she noticed something pretty important. Britt's second story window wasn't open. It was always open. Even in the winter, it was open just enough for Santana to slide it up and tumble over. This was bullshit. She pulled herself up to just catch a glimpse in. There was her Brittany sitting on her bed. She was playing Candyland. Aww, Britt! She was moving the blue kid-shaped game piece across the board. Of course, Brittany was always blue. Oh, and looky there, it's Sam "Fuckface" Evans using Santana's red piece. Just, no!

Santana knocked on the window. When Brittany shot her a glare and made a motion for her to go away, she knocked again.

"Let me in!" Santana yelled through the glass.

Brittany shook her head and Sam reached down to take another turn.

"I'm not going anywhere!" Santana yelled. "And Evans, if you touch the red piece one more time!"

"Santana, what are you doing?" Sam asked as he walked over to the window. "You're going to hurt yourself."

"I've done this a million times," Santana said as she dangled above the ground. "But I might hurt you."

Sam opened the window and leaned out, "C'mon, we're all friends here."

"No, no, we're not. You and I might be friends. Might! I'll have to reassess that. You and Brittany might be friends. Possibly. Only. But Brittany and I are fucking soulmates, okay."

"San!" Brittany sighed. "Get down! And stop stalking me already."

"I'm not stalking you, I'm trying to talk to you."

Sam leaned "Santana, just climb down, okay? Go home, get some sleep."

"Don't tell me what to do while you're playing Candyland with my girlfriend."

"Ex girlfriend," Brittany added.

"Unofficially!" Santana said emphatically.

"I think it's official, Santana," Sam said as he whipped out another smirk.

That was it. Santana reached down and pulled the snow scraper out of her sock and threw it at him again. Unfortunately, she really didn't have all that good a grip on the trellis and before she knew it, she was on her way down.

"Shit!" she heard Sam scream right before she hit the ground.

"Santana! Oh my god, San!" It was Brittany's voice, but it seemed like it was far away. Like, possibly in Vermont.

She blinked a few times. Still alive: Check. She tried to move. Mobility: Check. Santana Lopez. Eighteen years old. Freshman at U of L. In love with Brittany Pierce. Brain function: Check. She was okay.

Brittany was not, "What the fuck, Santana?" The blonde was standing over her, freaking out. "You could have died!"

"But, I didn't. I'm fine." Santana smiled to prove it.

"Fuck you!" Brittany said as she stormed away...again.

"Britt!" Santana said as she stood up. That was tricky because she was a tad bit wobbly. "I'm sorry! You know I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the song and for breaking up with you and for flipping out and for climbing up your house and for scaring you and for throwing the snow scraper at Sam...twice...did I get him? Did you see?"

"Why are you even here?" Brittany said without stopping.

Santana chased her through the yard, but her shorter legs weren't doing her a whole lot of favors, "Because!"

"Because why?"

"Because I love you!" Santana shouted.

Brittany stopped and spun around. "If you love me so much why did you hurt me so badly, Santana?"

"Don't question whether I love you or not, that's not fair."

"A lot of things aren't fair."

"Oh, believe me, I know," Santana said. "Like Sam. I can't stand seeing you with that douchebag."

"Sam's not a douchebag."

"He is! Maybe he's really not, but he is. Anybody that stands in the way of me and you is a douchebag, Britt. Anybody! I'm a douchebag for breaking up with you. You're a douchebag for not taking me back. And Sam's a douchebag for existing right now."

"God, Santana, Sam's not in the way of us."

"Yes, he is!"

"No," Brittany's shoulders dropped. The fight was slowly leaking out of her body. "He's not. I don't like Sam, Santana. I just said that to make you jealous."

Santana stared at her for long moments before saying, "Well, it worked. I'm jealous."

"But that's not how I wanted us to get back together," Brittany said. "Just because you saw me with Sam-"

"That's not why I want you back," Santana interrupted. "I want you back because I love you, Britt. You make me happy. You make me happy even when we're far apart and I don't get to see you enough. Just the few minutes here and there still made me so happy. It was you that wasn't happy." Then it was Santana's turn to deflate, "It was you that wasn't happy. That's why I broke up with you. And that's why it was selfish to come back here, saying I love you, and being jealous of Sam."

"But I still want to be with you. I was really upset that you weren't here, but I still wanted to be with you."

The news made Santana breathe a sigh of relief.

"Well, that's nice to know," Sam called from the still open window of Brittany's room.

"Get the fuck out of the there," Santana snapped.

"Settle down," Brittany said. "He's harmless."

"Harmless my ass," Santana said before shooting a glance back up to the window.

"C'mon, Sam's so nerdy! Plus, he looks just like my cousin, Brandon. And Brandon always smells like chicken poop. I could never kiss a guy who reminds me of a guy who smells like poop."

"So, you don't like him?" Santana asked with a small smile.

"Nope," Brittany shrugged. "I still only like you."

"I still only like you, too. That girl that I mentioned, I don't like her, Britt. I don't even know her...I don't even know what point I was try-"

Santana stopped when Brittany made a sudden move toward her. "Stop talking," the blonde whispered. Before Santana could think about what was happening, she was being kissed.

It wasn't just a kiss. It was a kiss of longing. It was an I-miss-you kiss tangled with a maybe-the-last-time kiss. Santana felt the kiss in her toes. She felt the tingles in her belly. She felt the warmness throughout her chest. Having Brittany's lips on hers was the rightest thing in the world. Their kisses were an art form. And Brittany knew how to weave in every fucking color of the rainbow. It was perfect. The light sucking on her top lip, the way Brittany's tongue would sweep across and dive into her mouth. It was in the way Brittany clutched her hip and pulled Santana into her while the other hand trailed fingertips down her cheek.

"I missed you," Brittany breathed, barely making space between their lips. "I missed you so much."

"Not as much as I missed you."

"No, San," Brittany pulled back just a little. "I missed you. Since you left, you've been somebody else. Somebody that's too busy for me."

"I'm not too busy for you, Britt!"

"Yeah, right."

"Okay, I'm busy at school. Yes, I know that." Brittany tried to pull away more, but Santana tugged her closer. "Britt, listen. I know that. And I know that I can do better. We can do better. And yeah, I'm different. That's because I'm growing up. You're different, too."

"No, I'm not."

"You are! You're already more independent, Brittany."

Brittany found Santana's eyes, "I am?"

"Yeah, you are. And it's hot."

Brittany smiled, "You think so?"

"So, so, so hot." Santana reached around and slipped her hands into Brittany's back pockets. "We just have to learn to grow together instead of apart, Britt Britt. I think we can. I know I want us to, because I don't think this is just some high school puppy love thing. I really love you. Maybe I'm not supposed to know what that means, but I feel it everywhere. So it has to be the real thing."

"It is the real thing, San."

"You think?"

"I know," Brittany answered assuredly. "I've known I loved you since the nurse's office. You smiled at me and my head didn't hurt anymore. Nothing hurts when you smile at me."

That prompted a wide grin from the brunette. "I love you," she said as she tiptoed for a kiss.

"I love you, too."

"You'll have to forgive me for leaving," Santana said suddenly serious. "You have to, Britt. You can't keep holding that against me."

"You'll have to forgive me for not graduating," Brittany replied.

"What?" Santana asked. "I'm not mad about that..."

"You are," Brittany said. "Maybe not mad...but...I should have tried harder. Studied harder. Asked for help. I should have done something."

Santana nodded, "You could have at least told me."

"I didn't know how."

"We tell each other everything, though."

"I was so scared...of this. Of you going and me fucking Lima...I thought you'd dump me as soon as you found out."

"Why would you think that?" Santana was surprised. "I would have never done that."

"You did!"

Santana rolled her eyes, "But, that was a mistake. One that I'll never make again."

"You better not!" Brittany said. "Never again."

"I won't."

"Good," Brittany said softly as she took Santana's hand to link their pinkies. "That's better," her smile grew at the sight.

"I don't want to go back," Santana said as she leaned her forehead onto Brittany's chest. "I want to stay here with you."

"How about I go to Louisville with you?"

Santana looked up at Brittany's smiling face, "Really? I have some things I have to do. Homework, for one. And, I have my own football game to cheer at tomorrow, if I'm even still on the squad. I've ignored about 20 phone calls. And then fell off a house. I'm probably going to feel that in the morning."

"I'll watch your game. You watched mine, it's only fair."

"You're right. It's only fair," Santana said as she started walking back toward the house still attached to Brittany. "Can we take the pie?"

"Yeah, Santana," Brittany said as she followed her official girlfriend. "We can take the pie."