Fic: i-80 west, part seven a (Brittany/Santana, R)
Title: i-80 west, part seven a
Characters: Brittany/Santana, Sam, Quinn, Mike
Length: 20k
Rating: R
Summary: Brittany and Santana graduate high school and spend one last summer in Lima before leaving for college.
A/N: This part is for my wonderful beta JJ, who went roadtrippin’ herself this week, albeit in the wrong direction. Thanks to my gf for spotting all my typos and not laughing at me too much.
She blinks a couple of times, quickly, like her eyes just aren’t working and if she blinks hard enough Brittany will be there, bounding out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel and grinning at her for being so worried. She blinks so hard that it stings, and then she presses the palms of her hands into her eyes instead, harder and harder, until her vision swims.
Brittany still isn’t there.
She shifts nervously on the spot, wringing her hands together and trying hard to keep her breathing even, only it feels like her heart is trying to fight its way out of her chest and her lungs aren’t quite working the way they’re supposed to so she ends up gasping for air and pressing her hands against her chest like that’ll help.
It doesn’t help.
She can feel tears at the corners of her eyes, and her breath catches in her throat when she desperately tries to suck in more air. She stays frozen for another second, feeling the panic bubble up in her stomach, before she forces herself to take a step, and then another, back towards the bed. She sinks down onto the edge of it and reaches for her glasses blindly, and it takes her a second to realise that the thing her hand encounters first of all is a bag of salt and vinegar chips, and then her eyes scrunch up in confusion when she pulls her glasses on and the bag gets a little clearer around the edges.
She’s pretty sure they weren’t there when she fell asleep, and even through her panic she realises that means Brittany must have left them for her. The thought almost calms her, until she realises that it’s proof that Brittany has actually left, and that she knew what she was doing when she went.
She wonders what the hell Brittany was thinking, to leave her with a bag of chips and no note, like that would make any kind of sense to her, but she still clutches the chips to her like they might provide some sort of answer, and tries to ignore how pathetic she’s sure she looks right now, cradling a bag of chips and holding back tears.
She stares down at the bag and laughs this sort of strangled laugh, like it gets caught in the back of her throat and almost doesn’t come out.
She twists the packet in her hands, wondering how far she can push it until it bursts.
It’s funny that no matter how far they’ve come she’s still that same terrified sixteen year old, pushing Brittany away instead of talking about how she feels. It’s funny how her first instinct is still to shut down and to push, and how she always thought Brittany would be there, patient and open and pulling her back. It’s funny how a ring that meant absolutely nothing at all suddenly means everything, the difference between Brittany and no Brittany, and how she can’t stop laughing that same broken laugh even though nothing is funny at all.
It’s her phone vibrating against the table that pulls her from her thoughts, and she jerks in surprise before making a grab for it, suddenly realising that she can just call Brittany or call their friends back home in case Brittany spoke to them before she left, and she actually laughs a little at how stupid she was as she presses her thumb against the button at the bottom and waits for it to light up.
She blinks and presses it a little harder, but it doesn’t come on, and she stares at the phone in her hand like she’s never seen it before. It takes her a second to realise that it was vibrating to signal the battery dying, and she tightens her hand around it reflexively, almost like she wants to throw it against the wall but she doesn’t, just drops it on the table next to her and stares at her empty hands, wondering what to do next.
Phone charger, she thinks distantly, Overnight bag.
She stands up jerkily and finds her bag, pulling things out with shaky hands until she gives up and upends the contents on to the bed, tossing things aside and looking for her phone charger frantically. It’s not there, and she swallows the scream of frustration and starts shoving things back into the bag messily, throwing it away from her without looking where it lands childishly. She hates that it makes her feel a little bit better.
She thinks she left her charger in the car, and the thought makes her heart twist because that’s where the ring still is as well, where Brittany left it in the cupholder.
She wishes Brittany was still where she left her.
She finds her car keys on the desk and almost sighs in relief, because if Brittany didn’t take the car then she can’t have gone far, and she’s half out of the door, wondering if maybe Brittany just stepped outside to get some air, before she realises that the keycard is gone and she has no way of getting back into the room if she leaves.
Her fingers slip from the edge of the door, and she watches as it slams shut and winces a little at the sound, squeezing the car keys in her hand so tightly that they start to dig into her skin, and it’s only when her hand starts shaking that she realises it’s starting to hurt. She loosens her grip and drops the keys back on to the desk, staring down at the marks on the palm of her hand without really seeing them. She screws her hand up into a fist, the ends of her fingers pressing against the dents left by the keys until she winces and has to let go.
She doesn’t know what to do. She wants to go and look for her like she’s in some sort of awful romantic comedy but she can’t leave the room, and Salt Lake is so big she doesn’t know where she’d start anyway. For the third time in her life she’s working without a plan, and she feels utterly useless, small and insignificant in a way she hasn’t for a long, long time.
She has to wait, she just has to wait, and then Brittany will come back, smiling and beautiful and laughing at the worried look on her face, and everything will be okay again.
She crawls on to the bed and draws her knees up under her chin slowly, wrapping her arms around them and staring at the door, like if she only stares hard enough Brittany will appear.
She just has to wait for Brittany, and she ignores the tiny part of her mind that wonders what she’ll do if Brittany doesn’t come back.
+
She honestly doesn’t know if she’s been sitting there for a minute, an hour or a whole day when the door opens, and she scrambles to her feet quickly, feeling her heart flutter in her chest. She’s taken two steps before Brittany has even closed the door, and then she stops, suddenly unsure. She hugs herself, her fingers curling into the fabric of her dress as she waits, listening to the ragged sound of her own breathing.
The moment seems to stretch, and Santana can feel everything balancing on it, like their entire lives could turn on what happens next, and she doesn’t want to say anything in case she ruins it all again.
“Oh,” Brittany says, eyes widening, “You’re awake.” She takes a step closer and her eyes get soft, “I wanted to be back before you woke up but I guess I lost track of the time.”
Brittany takes another step closer slowly, like Santana might startle if she goes any faster, “I went to get food. I-I thought you might be hungry,” her voice is soft, and she leans down a little until she’s looking into Santana’s eyes. “Are you hungry?”
Santana nods and takes a tiny step towards her, and she almost sees Brittany sigh with relief, like all the tension has gone out of her body, and then Santana whimpers and feels something snap inside her. She crosses the room in three quick strides, cupping Brittany’s cheek with one hand and pressing the other to the back of Brittany’s neck to pull her closer, until she finds Brittany’s lips with her own.
She kisses her hard, her tongue pushing into Brittany’s mouth clumsily, Brittany humming against her lips in surprise as Santana presses herself closer and holds Brittany as tightly as she knows how.
She doesn’t want to think and she doesn’t want to talk so she just keeps kissing Brittany, deep, desperate and a little bit frantic, over and over again. She just keeps kissing her, until Brittany’s arm snakes around her waist and her palm settles in the small of her back against her spine, until Brittany tugs her towards the desk so she can drop the bag of food she’s carrying there and bring her other arm up to tangle into her hair.
She doesn’t want to stop, because if she doesn’t stop then Brittany can’t leave again, but after a moment, Brittany tries to pull away, pressing kisses to Santana’s lips that refuse to deepen, as she breathes out shakily against her mouth.
“Santana,” Brittany murmurs, and the sound of her own name makes her whimper again. Brittany’s hand is still in Santana’s hair and she shifts until she has her hand at the hinge of Santana’s jaw and tries to tilt her head up to find her eyes. Santana swallows and looks away.
“Santana, talk to me.” Brittany’s thumb rubs at her jaw comfortingly, and Santana can feel herself trembling but she doesn’t know how to make it stop. Brittany just holds her and waits, letting her find the words.
“You weren’t here,” she chokes out after a moment. “I woke up and you weren’t here.” She swallows and risks a glance up at Brittany’s face, finding her eyes soft and impossibly blue. “I thought you left me.” The ring hangs unspoken in the air between them.
“I sent you a text,” Brittany whispers as her eyes screw up in confusion for a second, before being replaced with a look of alarm. “I would never leave you, Santana.”
“You weren’t here,” Santana says again, her fingers tightening in Brittany’s hair as she tries to press herself closer. Her voice comes out sounding kind of broken and she coughs a little, like she’s trying to clear her throat, to cover it up.
“Oh honey,” Brittany murmurs, her eyes going so deep that Santana thinks she could fall into them. “I’m sorry,” she says, and then she nudges her nose against Santana’s until Santana’s head tilts back and she can kiss her again, gentler than before but just as deep, each kiss openmouthed and lingering long after it’s gone.
Santana whimpers into Brittany’s mouth and kisses her back, grasping her face in her hands as Brittany’s arms wrap around her waist and pull her closer, until they’re pressed together without an inch of space between them. She tries not to think of anything but the feel of Brittany’s lips against hers, of the way her tongue slips into her mouth and brushes against hers so softly she’s not sure if she’s imagining it or not.
Brittany presses her lips to Santana’s so carefully, like she’s trying to kiss reassurance into her, but Santana pulls away from the thought and the way it makes her heart twist, and loses herself in kissing her back instead. She savours the feel of Brittany’s body under her fingertips, and how she gasps into her mouth when she trails a hand down and over her breast on the way to pushing under Brittany’s shirt and finding smooth skin. She drags her fingers up and over her stomach, trying to map every inch of it, the voice in the back of her head whispering about earlier and how this might be the last time she gets to do this, no matter what Brittany says.
She pushes her hand higher, until she’s palming Brittany’s breast through her bra and Brittany’s breathing goes a little ragged and her kisses get clumsy, in a way that makes something flip over in Santana’s belly and makes her lean into Brittany even more, their foreheads and noses squashing together as they continue to kiss. She wishes she could turn her mind off and ignore the little voice whispering at her that this won’t last and that Brittany is going to leave again, but she can’t, so she squeezes her eyes shut tighter and kisses Brittany again and again, sucking at her neck and dragging her teeth over the skin until Brittany whimpers and pulls her head up to kiss her.
Santana breaks the kiss just long enough to pull Brittany’s shirt over her head before pressing their bodies together, reaching behind Brittany to unfasten her bra and tug that out of the way too. She still has her clothes on but she doesn’t give Brittany a chance to do anything about it, just starts to walk Brittany backwards towards the bed without breaking the kiss, her hand finding Brittany’s breast again as they go.
“San-” Brittany starts to say, low in her throat, but Santana kisses her and cuts her off, hoping she gets the hint because she still doesn’t want to think, she just wants to feel Brittany everywhere she can in every way she can and shut the voice up in her head.
They take another couple of steps before Brittany’s legs hit the bed and her knees buckle, and Santana pushes her down until she’s sitting on the edge of it and then drops to her knees and kisses at Brittany’s stomach as she reaches for the button on her shorts. Brittany kicks her shoes off and lifts herself up so Santana can pull her shorts down, and she pulls Brittany’s underwear off too, her movements quick and frantic. She hooks one hand around the back of Brittany’s knee and presses a kiss to it and along the inside of her thigh, and when she glances up at Brittany she’s looking down at her with dark eyes, biting her bottom lip and breathing hard, watching Santana carefully.
They lock eyes for a moment, and Santana feels like Brittany is looking into her soul again, looking for something she doesn’t understand, until Brittany’s breath hitches and Santana blinks and looks away, brushing her mouth against the inside of Brittany’s thigh again as she moves higher.
Brittany groans when Santana kisses into her and settles into a slow rhythm, her fingers tangling into Santana’s hair and guiding her where she wants her, Santana happy to go where she leads. She loses herself in Brittany, in the way she overwhelms all of her senses until all she knows is the way Brittany tastes beneath her tongue, until all she can hear is the little gasps she makes above her whenever Santana moves her mouth.
She reaches for Brittany’s hip with her free hand to pull her closer as Brittany’s breathing gets more erratic and she starts to rock into her, tiny movements she keeps trying to stop before they start but Santana notices anyway. She presses her tongue against Brittany a little harder and feels Brittany shudder, her whimpers getting louder as her fingers tighten in Santana’s hair.
“Santana,” Brittany murmurs, over and over again, like it’s the only word she knows, and Santana latches onto her name like a lifeline, swallowing a moan. She brings her hand up until she can slide her fingers, one and then two, inside of Brittany and move them slowly, in time with her tongue, and hears Brittany gasp again.
She hears Brittany mumble something but can’t tell what it is, just hears the way her breath catches in her throat as she rocks into Santana’s mouth. Her movements pull moans from Brittany, the most beautiful noises Santana thinks she’s ever heard, and she can feel Brittany’s body getting tense, the muscles starting to squeeze around her fingers as Brittany’s gasps get louder and she moves more jerkily, like she can’t stand more contact but needs it at the same time.
“I love you,” Brittany says above her, and Santana shifts her head a little so she can look up and finds Brittany looking down at her, one hand behind her holding herself up as the other brushes Santana’s hair away from her face.
“I love you,” Brittany says again, and Santana mumbles the words back to her, smiling a little when Brittany jerks at the way it makes Santana’s lips vibrate against her.
“I love you,” Brittany says, and then she gasps and shudders as every muscle in her body tightens and Santana kisses her down, her fingers stilling inside of her as she licks slowly, her tongue making the tiniest movements against her.
Brittany sighs above her, her body stilling as her fingers brush against the back of Santana’s head. Santana keeps going, moving as slowly and gently as she knows how. First her tongue, and then her fingers start again too, tiny, tiny movements that make Brittany’s breath hitch as the hand on her head tightens.
“Oh,” Brittany gasps, as Santana sucks and rocks her hand, slowly, slowly, slowly. “Oh,” she says again. “Santana.” Something about the way Brittany says her name makes something turn over in her stomach, makes her fingers start to move a little bit faster and crook just so.
Brittany gasps, “Don’t stop. Oh, Santana, don’t stop.”
Santana wants to tell her that she never will.
+
When Brittany comes again, it’s even harder than before, and she falls back against the mattress, her back arching up as Santana tries to hold on. Brittany makes a noise somewhere between a laugh and a moan and squeezes her legs together, the hand on the back of Santana’s head urging her away until Santana is resting her head against Brittany’s thigh, breathing hard.
Santana stays close and waits for her own breathing to even out along with Brittany’s, pressing soft kisses to Brittany’s thigh as she rests her head there, her fingers clutching at her hip and holding her close. It feels like forever until Brittany moves, and then she pushes herself up on her elbow and sweeps her hair out of her eyes to look down at Santana, happy smile on her face, and Santana feels the last of the tension seep out of her at the expression on Brittany’s face, soft and open and loving, until there’s nothing left but a tiny memory in the back of her mind and a vague sense of embarrassment at the way she felt earlier.
“Hi,” Santana says softly, feeling her lips quirk up into a smile when Brittany reaches to cup her face in her hand and tugs her upwards.
“Hey,” Brittany whispers back, leaning down to meet Santana halfway as she comes up. Brittany kisses her softly as she pulls Santana into her lap, her legs either side of Brittany’s as Brittany sucks her tongue into her mouth and nips at her bottom lip slowly. She can’t help the way she leans into Brittany or the way she kisses her back desperately, and she feels Brittany smile into the next kiss before pulling back to kiss a trail up to her ear.
“You’re still wearing all of your clothes,” Brittany mock whines, her hand sliding down to hook under the bottom of Santana’s dress and tug, making sure that she drags her fingers over Santana’s skin as she pulls it up and over her head. She tosses it aside and kisses every bit of Santana’s skin that she can reach, and there’s something about the way she moves that makes Santana think she’s being careful with her, like she’s a precious thing that Brittany is trying to protect. She feels something in her stomach flip flop again.
Brittany unhooks Santana’s bra and draws it down her arms carefully, leaning forward to kiss each patch of skin revealed in its wake, until her tongue flicks over a nipple and Santana whines in the back of her throat and pulls her up so she can kiss her again. Brittany cups her face in her hands and kisses her slow and sweet, sighing and smiling into every kiss like she’s never been happier, and Santana can feel herself melt into the contact, until waking up alone feels like a bad dream that Brittany is kissing away, holding her until the memory fades and everything is okay again.
Brittany shifts a little until she has one hand behind Santana’s head and the other at the small of her back, and she half stands and turns, guiding Santana down onto the bed without breaking the kiss, her hands holding her all the way until her head finds the pillow and settles into it. Brittany’s hips bracket hers, pressing against her when she arches up into the next kiss, and Brittany’s fingertips trace patterns over her body, lower and lower, over her breasts and stomach, and then down to her thigh and up to her hip, her thumb hooking into the waistband of her underwear and staying there for a second as their kisses deepen again.
She’s not even aware that she’s holding Brittany so tightly until Brittany pulls back to look at her, pressing tiny kisses to her chin and cheek when Santana looks surprised at the loss of contact. “You gotta let me go so I can rid of these,” she says softly as her thumb tugs at the last bit of fabric between them again. “I’ll come right back, Santana. Right back.” Brittany kisses her again to prove her point and Santana loosens her grip around Brittany’s back, smoothing her fingers down her spine and away, letting Brittany go.
She still watches anxiously when Brittany pushes herself up and rocks backwards with her legs underneath her so she can pull Santana’s panties off reverently, her fingers brushing down her legs in the wake of the fabric. Brittany exhales shakily once she’s dropped Santana’s underwear on to the floor, sitting back on her feet as she stares at Santana lying in front of her.
Brittany’s gaze isn’t hungry or lecherous when she looks at her, and Santana’s half sure that Brittany’s eyes are fixed on her face anyway, and that she doesn’t even see the rest of her. She doesn’t look at her the way the boys did who came before, and the thought hits her suddenly that she never has, that she’s always looked at her this way, her expression soft and full of love, but also a little bit surprised like Santana takes her breath away, every single time.
She wonders if Brittany knows she takes her breath away too, whenever she looks at her.
Brittany reaches forward slowly with one hand and swirls the tip of her index finger around Santana’s hipbone, then drags it higher, until her palm is resting against Santana’s chest over her heart, and Santana is sure she must be able to feel the way its trying to beat its way out of her chest. She tries to force her breathing to stay even but fails, feeling it catch in the back of her throat, and watches the way the corners of Brittany’s mouth crook up into a smile when she hears it.
“I love you,” Brittany says through her shy smile, leaning forward so that she’s hovering over Santana and using her hand to hold herself up, her other still resting against Santana’s heart.
“I love you too,” Santana murmurs, barely above a whisper but loud enough for Brittany to hear, and then Brittany sinks down on top of her, one arm snaking between Santana and the mattress so she can hold her as she kisses her, licking into her mouth slowly, their foreheads bumping together as Brittany stays as close as she can.
Santana gasps into Brittany’s mouth when Brittany’s hand moves from her heart and finds its way between her legs, Brittany’s fingers settling into a slow rhythm between their bodies. They kiss lazily and a little clumsily, stopping whenever Santana gasps, so close that they’re breathing on some sort of cycle into each other’s mouths, and Santana’s half sure they might run out of oxygen but can’t find it in her to care.
She tries to keep her eyes open, even though all she can see is a blur of cornflower blue eyes and honey blonde hair, Brittany’s sun-kissed skin and freckles dancing in front of her whenever she blinks. She knows Brittany is doing the same when she pulls back the tiniest bit and the blur becomes her smiling face, hovering above her for just a second before she leans in to kiss her again. Brittany’s breathing sounds just as ragged as hers, and she hums into their kisses, her tongue brushing against Santana’s as she sucks it into her mouth, sloppy and clumsy as she concentrates on moving her hand and Santana tries to stop her hips rocking up and pushing them apart.
She doesn’t think she’s ever been this close to Brittany before, doesn’t think Brittany has ever held her like this, like she’s gathered her up and is keeping her safe from the rest of the world, using her whole body to protect her and hold her together. It tugs at something low in her belly, something that has nothing to do with what Brittany’s fingers are doing between her legs, and her hands tighten against Brittany’s back beneath her shoulder blade as Brittany rocks into her and kisses her neck, sucking at her pulse point for a second before coming back up and finding her lips again.
Santana can’t stop herself from groaning into Brittany’s mouth as she feels everything tighten within her and she comes against Brittany’s fingers, can’t stop her hips from bucking up and her eyes rolling back in her head before she has to close them for a second. She knows Brittany is watching her and she tries to open her eyes and find her lips again, succeeding only in pressing a messy kiss to the corner of Brittany’s mouth. She grins when Brittany laughs, low and throaty, and presses her forehead against Santana’s again as her fingers slow and still, drawing the last of Santana’s orgasm from her.
Brittany kisses every inch of her face while she tries to regain her breath; her cheeks, lips, nose, and eyelids, tiny little kisses that ghost against her skin and tickle more than they linger, until Santana laughs and interrupts her, finding her lips with her own and kissing her, slow and deep, and Brittany sighs out contentedly and pulls back to look at her, fingers tracing over her cheekbone when Santana’s eyes settle on hers.
“Hi,” Brittany says with a grin, brushing some of Santana’s hair away from her face.
“Hey,” Santana whispers back happily, and snuggles into her embrace, her whole body feeling heavy and sleepy as she relaxes into her. Brittany presses another kiss to her forehead and then shifts a little, and Santana starts, clutching Brittany to her, thinking suddenly that she’s going to go away.
“Hey,” Brittany whispers and presses a kiss to the underside of Santana’s chin. “I still got you, okay?” She only moves until she’s lying next to Santana on her side, one leg thrown over Santana’s hips carelessly as she settles against her, her hand lying on her heart again, her fingers twitching against her skin in time with the beats.
“I’ve always got you,” Brittany murmurs softly, and when she snuggles closer and holds her with the arm still underneath her, Santana believes it.
+
She thinks she falls asleep, because the next thing she knows Brittany is brushing her fingers against her cheek softly as she murmurs, “I got tacos if you’re hungry.” Santana’s eye flutter open just in time to see Brittany blush when she adds, “I think they might have gotten cold now though.”
“Is that where you went?” Santana asks after a minute, once she’s rubbed her hand over her face in an attempt to wake herself up.
Brittany nods, and presses a kiss to her shoulder as she sits up. “I was gonna go to McDonalds for breakfast,” she pauses for half a second before she carries on. “But I went the wrong way, and by the time I got there it was after 10.30.” She shrugs like it’s no big deal, “So I got Chipotle instead.”
“Tacos sound good,” Santana says through a yawn, and Brittany nods, kissing her shoulder again before she slides out of bed in search of their food.
She bends down to retrieve her shirt from the floor when she goes and pulls it over her head without bothering to put her bra on, then steps into her underwear as well, laughing a little when Santana pretends to whine from her place on the bed.
“Do you want your food or not?” Brittany asks, swinging the bag from her hand and Santana grins, trying her best to look contrite.
“Can you get me something to wear too?” She points at her overnight bag and grins when Brittany pretends to huff, watching as she pulls a clean shirt and underwear out of her duffle.
Santana rolls onto her back when Brittany comes closer, and she drops the clothes on to her chest as she leans forward to kiss her, upside down and clumsy so that Santana’s nose is pressing into Brittany’s chin and they both end up laughing, Santana rolling her eyes when Brittany pulls away.
“You must have mistaken me for Sam,” Santana says, sitting up to pull the shirt over her head, “He’s into that Spider-man stuff, not me.”
Brittany just gives her a look as she pulls the food out of the bag and holds out a bottle of water to her, waiting for her to pull her panties on.
“What?” Santana asks as she takes the water and unwraps her food, and when she looks up at her she’s pretty sure Brittany is hiding a smirk as she takes a bite of her food and chews slowly, eyes flashing.
“Nothing,” she says after a moment, and laughs when Santana rolls her eyes again.
The food’s still good even though it’s cold, and they eat mostly in silence, stealing little bits from each other the way they always do when they have something different, each trying to convince the other that theirs is better. She didn’t realise how hungry she was until she started eating, and for a second she doesn’t think she’s ever tasted anything so good before she fights the sudden urge to cross herself and call her abuela to apologise.
The thought of her abuela sends a pang of homesickness through her, the same way mentioning Sam did before, and she wonders what their families and friends are doing back in Lima, if they’re missing them or if they’ve even noticed they’re gone. She suddenly wants to hear her mama’s voice more than anything, and she glances at her phone on the bedside table, wondering if she’d be at home if she called.
Brittany reaches over to take the wrapper from her food away, scrunching it into a ball with hers and tossing it back into the bag, pulling her from her thoughts. Brittany stares at her for a second, as though she’s trying to work something out, and she reaches over to brush her fingers against her chin softly. “What’s wrong, honey love?”
She shrugs but has a feeling that won’t work, and sure enough Brittany just keeps looking at her, her hand finding Santana’s and rubbing between the knuckles, waiting for her to say something. “Homesick,” Santana says eventually, then shrugs and looks away. “I think I’m gonna go get my phone charger out of the car and call my mom.”
She brings Brittany’s hand up to her lips and kisses her knuckles before climbing off the bed while Brittany nods and watches her go. She yawns and stretches herself back on the bed, reaching for her own phone in the pockets of her shorts on the floor.
“I’ll be right here,” she says, holding her gaze for a moment to make sure she heard, and Santana feels a phantom pang at the words.
She shakes her head to try and clear it, hoping it looks like a nod.
She pulls the shorts out of Brittany’s hands and tugs them up her legs before Brittany can say anything about it, shooting her a smile over her shoulder as she swipes her car keys and the keycard from the desk and heads for the door.
+
She takes a moment to lean against the wall and just breathe once she’s out in the hallway, trying to work out what the feeling twisting her stomach is as she starts to walk, trailing her fingers down the wall as she heads outside slowly, nodding curtly at the guy who beams at her from behind the reception desk as she heads for the doors.
She blinks against the sun when she gets outside, shielding her eyes with her hand as she crosses the parking lot to their car. The sun glints off the silver paintwork, and as she moves closer, reaching for the door to pull it open, something glints on the inside too, catching her eye.
She stills when she realises what it is, swallowing against the sudden tightness in her throat.
The ring is just where Brittany left it, sitting in the cupholder under the radio, and she blinks quickly, forcing herself to look away. Her eyes drift back to it slowly, like maybe if she goes carefully it won’t be there by the time she looks, but it still is, and she moves her hand towards it slowly before stopping, hovering halfway between her and the ring before dropping away.
She swallows again and tears her gaze away, scrambling further into the car and leaning over the console to rummage through her glove box until she finds her phone charger and cradles it in her hand. She starts to move back now that she has what she wants but the ring catches her eye again, and she wonders wildly if the sun is doing that on purpose, or if it’s always shined through her windscreen like that.
She’s fairly sure the sun in Lima never acted this way.
She stares at the ring for a long moment before she darts her hand out to grab it and slip it on to the finger of her left hand, forcing herself to look away as she climbs out of the car and slams the door behind her.
She locks the car and heads back inside quickly, hurrying back the way she came, and just before she gets to their room she pauses and glances down at the ring again, twisting it round her finger for a second before pulling it off and moving it to her index finger instead.
She stares at it for a moment longer before she she reaches for the keycard and pushes it into the slot.
+
Brittany is where she left her on the bed, and after she plugs her charger into the wall and into her phone, giving it a minute to charge up before she switches it on, she sinks down next to her, and watches Brittany tap out a text message to Quinn with quick, deft movements.
She reaches for Santana’s hand absentmindedly when she’s done, and when her thumb moves to rub against her knuckles Santana holds her breath, wondering if Brittany will notice the ring.
Her thumb falters for just a second when it encounters metal before moving again, and she’s sure she sees Brittany glance down at her hand for just a second before she looks back at her phone, and Santana exhales a little shakily, hoping Brittany won’t notice.
If Brittany does, she doesn’t say anything, and when Santana pulls away to retrieve her phone and call her mom, Brittany lets her go, eyes fixed on the phone in her hand like they don’t dare look anywhere else.
+
Calling her mom takes longer than she thought it would because she doesn’t want to hang up, even though they’re not really talking about anything at all. She sits back against the headboard because it’s the only place she can sit and have the cord from her charger still reach, and Brittany curls into her, the fingers of her left hand tangled around Santana’s right, so she can still text while she sits there, pressing kisses to Santana’s knees every now and then and catching her by surprise.
Her mom tells her about how much they’re all missing her, and how Brittany’s mom called and asked if Santana’s parents wanted to go out to dinner with them one evening, so they could miss their girls together and compare childhood stories, and the thought makes Santana feel a little funny though she’s not entirely sure why.
It’s only when she asks if her father is around to talk for the third time and her mom sighs and says, “He’s at work,” again that her mom asks her if she’s okay, and Santana makes a noncommittal noise into the receiver, somewhere between a yes and a no.
There’s a pause before her mom speaks, and then she says, “Santana... are you and Brittany okay? Salt Lake is-” She trails off and there’s a pause while she tries to work out what to say. “You’re okay, right?” Santana can hear the concern in her voice, lurking under the forced casual way she asks the questions.
“Nothing bad happened to us,” Santana says quickly, because it didn’t, not the way her mom means, and she sees Brittany glance up at her out of the corner of her eye, almost like she wants to argue. “We just got in late last night, and I’m still a little tired.”
That makes her mom sigh in exasperation instead and puts them back on familiar ground, “It’s the middle of the afternoon! You should be out seeing the city.”
“We’re just enjoying being in one place,” Santana says softly, and Brittany squeezes her hand at the words, like she’s agreeing with her.
Her mom makes a disapproving sound in the back of her throat, and Santana rolls her eyes, suddenly glad she can’t see. “We’ll be in California in a couple of days,” Santana says, interrupting her mom before she can speak again. “We’re saving all our exploring for then, okay?”
“Well make sure that you do,” her mom says firmly, and there’s a pause before she says, “If you wanted to stay in bed with Brittany you could have done that at home,” quickly and a little bit sternly, all in a rush, like she can’t believe she’s saying it.
Santana blushes so furiously that she almost drops the phone, and it’s only when Brittany looks up at her, trying to silently ask what’s wrong, that she speaks, “Bye mom, tell dad I love him.” Her voice comes out kind of strangled and Brittany’s face scrunches in confusion.
She hangs up with fumbling fingers and almost throws the phone away from her, wrapping an arm around Brittany’s shoulders and leaning forward to bury her face against her shoulder as she groans. “My mom thinks we’re having some kind of sex marathon,” she mumbles after a minute, and feels rather than hears Brittany laugh against her.
When she finally looks up, Brittany is grinning at her like she’s the cutest thing she’s ever seen, and she offers her a tiny shrug, “She’s kind of right.”
Santana opens her mouth to protest, but Brittany laughs and leans forward to cut her off with a kiss, and Santana’s words are lost against her lips.
+
Santana checks through her plans for the rest of the journey while Brittany uploads some of the pictures from her camera to her computer next to her, their feet bumping against each other at the bottom of the mattress. Brittany’s left hand rubs at Santana’s thigh absentmindedly while she cycles through the photos and transfers them off her memory card, and Santana ends up giving up on her plans in favour of watching her fingers skip over the trackpad, watching Brittany’s mouth twist in concentration as she evaluates each photo before deciding whether to keep it or not.
When she gets to the ones she took of Santana in Iowa, her mouth quirks into a smile and she lingers over them, leaving them open while she skips through the others and glancing back at them every now and then.
Santana doesn’t think Brittany knows she’s watching her, and when she starts going through the transferred photos and sorting them into folders, Santana shifts a little, trying to get a better look. There’s a folder called ‘For Quinn’ that all the fields and mountains and canyons go into, and another called ‘Dorktour ‘12’ that she puts the funny ones of herself and Santana in-Brittany peering into the lens so there’s just a photo of her eye, one of Santana trying to push the camera away while she’s driving that’s mostly her hand, one of the both of them leaning together and pulling their faces, half cut off because Brittany was holding the camera and guessing when they were in frame-and soon enough she just has a list of ten or so photos left that she highlights quickly and drags into another folder, one that Santana can’t see the name of because Brittany angles the screen down and moves to unplug her camera, so that Santana has to look back down at her plans quickly before Brittany notices she’s trying to see.
Brittany stretches her arms up over her head until her shoulders pop, and then she slumps down against Santana and nudges her foot with hers, grinning when Santana looks up from her map. “I’m gonna go take a shower,” she says, screwing the lens cap back onto her camera carefully and setting it back in its padded case. She brushes her hand against Santana’s thigh again, in a way that makes something in Santana sit up and take notice, and she shivers a little when Brittany’s fingers dance a little higher. “Are you coming?”
She opens her mouth to say yes just as her phone starts to ring, and Brittany laughs, pushing her towards it with a sigh. “You should answer that,” she says with a smirk, standing up and pulling her t-shirt over her head before dropping it carelessly on the end of the bed.
She still isn’t wearing a bra, and Santana swallows. “I can call them back,” she says quickly, but Brittany’s already pulling her wash bag from her duffle and disappearing into the bathroom, and Santana stares after her, mouth hanging open a little.
Her phone rings again, insistent, and she reaches for it slowly, her brain still stuck on the sight of Brittany in nothing but her underwear, padding into the bathroom.
She hears the water come on, and then Brittany sticks her head around the door, that smirk still on her face. “I’ll be waiting,” she says, and then she tosses something at Santana, something that it takes Santana a minute to realise is her underwear, and Santana presses her thumb against the screen so hard she’s half surprised it doesn’t crack.
“This better be very fucking good, Samuel,” she says brusquely when she hears him say hi.
He falters for just a second before he carries on, unphased by her tone, “I’ve just been to the comic book store, and the new Batwoman came in. You’ll never guess who’s back-”
Santana holds her hand up like she’s trying to cut him off even though he can’t see her. “If your next words aren’t Renee Montoya and/or The Question, I’m going to find a way to smack you through the phone.”
Sam trails off, and she’s just wondering if he’d forgive her for hanging up on him when he speaks again. “Dude, you sound kind of weird. What’s going on? Did something happen?”
She really wants to hate the earnest way he asks, the concern clear in his voice, but she finds it just makes her miss him more, and she holds the phone a little closer to her ear, listening to the sound of his breathing and wondering how even that sounds sincere and solid, just like him.
“Nothing’s wrong, Sammy,” she says, voice a little softer than before. “But Brittany’s in the shower right now and the only reason I’m not is because I’m talking to you.”
He’s silent for about a second before he bursts out laughing and she gets offended that she’s talking to him instead of showering with her girlfriend all over again, and she’s pretty sure he laughs harder when she huffs out an indignant breath, trying to find something to say.
“Is it still cockblocking if it’s two girls?” Sam manages to ask through his laughter, and Santana snorts in spite of herself.
“I’m hanging up now,” she says as flatly as she can, only it’s undone by the smile on her face.
“May the Force be with you,” Sam says solemnly, and then cracks up all over again just as she ends the call.
She stares at her phone in disbelief for a second, before she sets it back down on the table and tries her best to get Sam Evans and his geekiness out of her head. She loves Sam, she really does, but she does not need to be thinking about him or fucking lightsabers while Brittany is in the shower on the other side of the wall.
She glances as Brittany’s computer as she climbs off the bed and searches for her shampoo, and for half a second her curiosity gets the better of her and she considers looking which folder Brittany transferred the pictures into, but then Brittany shouts something that sounds a lot like her name, half whine and half need, and she scrambles towards the bathroom, shedding her clothes as she goes.
+
Brittany’s rinsing the shampoo out of her hair when Santana climbs in next to her, and she waits until all the suds are gone before she slides her arms around Brittany’s waist and presses herself against her back, bumping her nose into Brittany’s hair and kissing the back of her neck while Brittany hums and steps forward so Santana is under the water.
She splutters a little when some of the water gets into her mouth and nose, shaking her head as she squeezes her eyes shut and whines against Brittany’s skin.
Brittany laughs and turns into her embrace, kissing her eyelids in turn. “That’s one way to get clean.”
“You’re mean,” Santana says without much feeling, but she still doesn’t open her eyes, and after a second, Brittany’s nose brushes against hers, almost making her jump in surprise. Brittany’s lips are warm and wet from the water raining down on them, and they kiss under the stream, giggling into every kiss as the water makes their skin flush pink and warm and tender beneath their fingers.
part seven b
Characters: Brittany/Santana, Sam, Quinn, Mike
Length: 20k
Rating: R
Summary: Brittany and Santana graduate high school and spend one last summer in Lima before leaving for college.
A/N: This part is for my wonderful beta JJ, who went roadtrippin’ herself this week, albeit in the wrong direction. Thanks to my gf for spotting all my typos and not laughing at me too much.
She blinks a couple of times, quickly, like her eyes just aren’t working and if she blinks hard enough Brittany will be there, bounding out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel and grinning at her for being so worried. She blinks so hard that it stings, and then she presses the palms of her hands into her eyes instead, harder and harder, until her vision swims.
Brittany still isn’t there.
She shifts nervously on the spot, wringing her hands together and trying hard to keep her breathing even, only it feels like her heart is trying to fight its way out of her chest and her lungs aren’t quite working the way they’re supposed to so she ends up gasping for air and pressing her hands against her chest like that’ll help.
It doesn’t help.
She can feel tears at the corners of her eyes, and her breath catches in her throat when she desperately tries to suck in more air. She stays frozen for another second, feeling the panic bubble up in her stomach, before she forces herself to take a step, and then another, back towards the bed. She sinks down onto the edge of it and reaches for her glasses blindly, and it takes her a second to realise that the thing her hand encounters first of all is a bag of salt and vinegar chips, and then her eyes scrunch up in confusion when she pulls her glasses on and the bag gets a little clearer around the edges.
She’s pretty sure they weren’t there when she fell asleep, and even through her panic she realises that means Brittany must have left them for her. The thought almost calms her, until she realises that it’s proof that Brittany has actually left, and that she knew what she was doing when she went.
She wonders what the hell Brittany was thinking, to leave her with a bag of chips and no note, like that would make any kind of sense to her, but she still clutches the chips to her like they might provide some sort of answer, and tries to ignore how pathetic she’s sure she looks right now, cradling a bag of chips and holding back tears.
She stares down at the bag and laughs this sort of strangled laugh, like it gets caught in the back of her throat and almost doesn’t come out.
She twists the packet in her hands, wondering how far she can push it until it bursts.
It’s funny that no matter how far they’ve come she’s still that same terrified sixteen year old, pushing Brittany away instead of talking about how she feels. It’s funny how her first instinct is still to shut down and to push, and how she always thought Brittany would be there, patient and open and pulling her back. It’s funny how a ring that meant absolutely nothing at all suddenly means everything, the difference between Brittany and no Brittany, and how she can’t stop laughing that same broken laugh even though nothing is funny at all.
It’s her phone vibrating against the table that pulls her from her thoughts, and she jerks in surprise before making a grab for it, suddenly realising that she can just call Brittany or call their friends back home in case Brittany spoke to them before she left, and she actually laughs a little at how stupid she was as she presses her thumb against the button at the bottom and waits for it to light up.
She blinks and presses it a little harder, but it doesn’t come on, and she stares at the phone in her hand like she’s never seen it before. It takes her a second to realise that it was vibrating to signal the battery dying, and she tightens her hand around it reflexively, almost like she wants to throw it against the wall but she doesn’t, just drops it on the table next to her and stares at her empty hands, wondering what to do next.
Phone charger, she thinks distantly, Overnight bag.
She stands up jerkily and finds her bag, pulling things out with shaky hands until she gives up and upends the contents on to the bed, tossing things aside and looking for her phone charger frantically. It’s not there, and she swallows the scream of frustration and starts shoving things back into the bag messily, throwing it away from her without looking where it lands childishly. She hates that it makes her feel a little bit better.
She thinks she left her charger in the car, and the thought makes her heart twist because that’s where the ring still is as well, where Brittany left it in the cupholder.
She wishes Brittany was still where she left her.
She finds her car keys on the desk and almost sighs in relief, because if Brittany didn’t take the car then she can’t have gone far, and she’s half out of the door, wondering if maybe Brittany just stepped outside to get some air, before she realises that the keycard is gone and she has no way of getting back into the room if she leaves.
Her fingers slip from the edge of the door, and she watches as it slams shut and winces a little at the sound, squeezing the car keys in her hand so tightly that they start to dig into her skin, and it’s only when her hand starts shaking that she realises it’s starting to hurt. She loosens her grip and drops the keys back on to the desk, staring down at the marks on the palm of her hand without really seeing them. She screws her hand up into a fist, the ends of her fingers pressing against the dents left by the keys until she winces and has to let go.
She doesn’t know what to do. She wants to go and look for her like she’s in some sort of awful romantic comedy but she can’t leave the room, and Salt Lake is so big she doesn’t know where she’d start anyway. For the third time in her life she’s working without a plan, and she feels utterly useless, small and insignificant in a way she hasn’t for a long, long time.
She has to wait, she just has to wait, and then Brittany will come back, smiling and beautiful and laughing at the worried look on her face, and everything will be okay again.
She crawls on to the bed and draws her knees up under her chin slowly, wrapping her arms around them and staring at the door, like if she only stares hard enough Brittany will appear.
She just has to wait for Brittany, and she ignores the tiny part of her mind that wonders what she’ll do if Brittany doesn’t come back.
+
She honestly doesn’t know if she’s been sitting there for a minute, an hour or a whole day when the door opens, and she scrambles to her feet quickly, feeling her heart flutter in her chest. She’s taken two steps before Brittany has even closed the door, and then she stops, suddenly unsure. She hugs herself, her fingers curling into the fabric of her dress as she waits, listening to the ragged sound of her own breathing.
The moment seems to stretch, and Santana can feel everything balancing on it, like their entire lives could turn on what happens next, and she doesn’t want to say anything in case she ruins it all again.
“Oh,” Brittany says, eyes widening, “You’re awake.” She takes a step closer and her eyes get soft, “I wanted to be back before you woke up but I guess I lost track of the time.”
Brittany takes another step closer slowly, like Santana might startle if she goes any faster, “I went to get food. I-I thought you might be hungry,” her voice is soft, and she leans down a little until she’s looking into Santana’s eyes. “Are you hungry?”
Santana nods and takes a tiny step towards her, and she almost sees Brittany sigh with relief, like all the tension has gone out of her body, and then Santana whimpers and feels something snap inside her. She crosses the room in three quick strides, cupping Brittany’s cheek with one hand and pressing the other to the back of Brittany’s neck to pull her closer, until she finds Brittany’s lips with her own.
She kisses her hard, her tongue pushing into Brittany’s mouth clumsily, Brittany humming against her lips in surprise as Santana presses herself closer and holds Brittany as tightly as she knows how.
She doesn’t want to think and she doesn’t want to talk so she just keeps kissing Brittany, deep, desperate and a little bit frantic, over and over again. She just keeps kissing her, until Brittany’s arm snakes around her waist and her palm settles in the small of her back against her spine, until Brittany tugs her towards the desk so she can drop the bag of food she’s carrying there and bring her other arm up to tangle into her hair.
She doesn’t want to stop, because if she doesn’t stop then Brittany can’t leave again, but after a moment, Brittany tries to pull away, pressing kisses to Santana’s lips that refuse to deepen, as she breathes out shakily against her mouth.
“Santana,” Brittany murmurs, and the sound of her own name makes her whimper again. Brittany’s hand is still in Santana’s hair and she shifts until she has her hand at the hinge of Santana’s jaw and tries to tilt her head up to find her eyes. Santana swallows and looks away.
“Santana, talk to me.” Brittany’s thumb rubs at her jaw comfortingly, and Santana can feel herself trembling but she doesn’t know how to make it stop. Brittany just holds her and waits, letting her find the words.
“You weren’t here,” she chokes out after a moment. “I woke up and you weren’t here.” She swallows and risks a glance up at Brittany’s face, finding her eyes soft and impossibly blue. “I thought you left me.” The ring hangs unspoken in the air between them.
“I sent you a text,” Brittany whispers as her eyes screw up in confusion for a second, before being replaced with a look of alarm. “I would never leave you, Santana.”
“You weren’t here,” Santana says again, her fingers tightening in Brittany’s hair as she tries to press herself closer. Her voice comes out sounding kind of broken and she coughs a little, like she’s trying to clear her throat, to cover it up.
“Oh honey,” Brittany murmurs, her eyes going so deep that Santana thinks she could fall into them. “I’m sorry,” she says, and then she nudges her nose against Santana’s until Santana’s head tilts back and she can kiss her again, gentler than before but just as deep, each kiss openmouthed and lingering long after it’s gone.
Santana whimpers into Brittany’s mouth and kisses her back, grasping her face in her hands as Brittany’s arms wrap around her waist and pull her closer, until they’re pressed together without an inch of space between them. She tries not to think of anything but the feel of Brittany’s lips against hers, of the way her tongue slips into her mouth and brushes against hers so softly she’s not sure if she’s imagining it or not.
Brittany presses her lips to Santana’s so carefully, like she’s trying to kiss reassurance into her, but Santana pulls away from the thought and the way it makes her heart twist, and loses herself in kissing her back instead. She savours the feel of Brittany’s body under her fingertips, and how she gasps into her mouth when she trails a hand down and over her breast on the way to pushing under Brittany’s shirt and finding smooth skin. She drags her fingers up and over her stomach, trying to map every inch of it, the voice in the back of her head whispering about earlier and how this might be the last time she gets to do this, no matter what Brittany says.
She pushes her hand higher, until she’s palming Brittany’s breast through her bra and Brittany’s breathing goes a little ragged and her kisses get clumsy, in a way that makes something flip over in Santana’s belly and makes her lean into Brittany even more, their foreheads and noses squashing together as they continue to kiss. She wishes she could turn her mind off and ignore the little voice whispering at her that this won’t last and that Brittany is going to leave again, but she can’t, so she squeezes her eyes shut tighter and kisses Brittany again and again, sucking at her neck and dragging her teeth over the skin until Brittany whimpers and pulls her head up to kiss her.
Santana breaks the kiss just long enough to pull Brittany’s shirt over her head before pressing their bodies together, reaching behind Brittany to unfasten her bra and tug that out of the way too. She still has her clothes on but she doesn’t give Brittany a chance to do anything about it, just starts to walk Brittany backwards towards the bed without breaking the kiss, her hand finding Brittany’s breast again as they go.
“San-” Brittany starts to say, low in her throat, but Santana kisses her and cuts her off, hoping she gets the hint because she still doesn’t want to think, she just wants to feel Brittany everywhere she can in every way she can and shut the voice up in her head.
They take another couple of steps before Brittany’s legs hit the bed and her knees buckle, and Santana pushes her down until she’s sitting on the edge of it and then drops to her knees and kisses at Brittany’s stomach as she reaches for the button on her shorts. Brittany kicks her shoes off and lifts herself up so Santana can pull her shorts down, and she pulls Brittany’s underwear off too, her movements quick and frantic. She hooks one hand around the back of Brittany’s knee and presses a kiss to it and along the inside of her thigh, and when she glances up at Brittany she’s looking down at her with dark eyes, biting her bottom lip and breathing hard, watching Santana carefully.
They lock eyes for a moment, and Santana feels like Brittany is looking into her soul again, looking for something she doesn’t understand, until Brittany’s breath hitches and Santana blinks and looks away, brushing her mouth against the inside of Brittany’s thigh again as she moves higher.
Brittany groans when Santana kisses into her and settles into a slow rhythm, her fingers tangling into Santana’s hair and guiding her where she wants her, Santana happy to go where she leads. She loses herself in Brittany, in the way she overwhelms all of her senses until all she knows is the way Brittany tastes beneath her tongue, until all she can hear is the little gasps she makes above her whenever Santana moves her mouth.
She reaches for Brittany’s hip with her free hand to pull her closer as Brittany’s breathing gets more erratic and she starts to rock into her, tiny movements she keeps trying to stop before they start but Santana notices anyway. She presses her tongue against Brittany a little harder and feels Brittany shudder, her whimpers getting louder as her fingers tighten in Santana’s hair.
“Santana,” Brittany murmurs, over and over again, like it’s the only word she knows, and Santana latches onto her name like a lifeline, swallowing a moan. She brings her hand up until she can slide her fingers, one and then two, inside of Brittany and move them slowly, in time with her tongue, and hears Brittany gasp again.
She hears Brittany mumble something but can’t tell what it is, just hears the way her breath catches in her throat as she rocks into Santana’s mouth. Her movements pull moans from Brittany, the most beautiful noises Santana thinks she’s ever heard, and she can feel Brittany’s body getting tense, the muscles starting to squeeze around her fingers as Brittany’s gasps get louder and she moves more jerkily, like she can’t stand more contact but needs it at the same time.
“I love you,” Brittany says above her, and Santana shifts her head a little so she can look up and finds Brittany looking down at her, one hand behind her holding herself up as the other brushes Santana’s hair away from her face.
“I love you,” Brittany says again, and Santana mumbles the words back to her, smiling a little when Brittany jerks at the way it makes Santana’s lips vibrate against her.
“I love you,” Brittany says, and then she gasps and shudders as every muscle in her body tightens and Santana kisses her down, her fingers stilling inside of her as she licks slowly, her tongue making the tiniest movements against her.
Brittany sighs above her, her body stilling as her fingers brush against the back of Santana’s head. Santana keeps going, moving as slowly and gently as she knows how. First her tongue, and then her fingers start again too, tiny, tiny movements that make Brittany’s breath hitch as the hand on her head tightens.
“Oh,” Brittany gasps, as Santana sucks and rocks her hand, slowly, slowly, slowly. “Oh,” she says again. “Santana.” Something about the way Brittany says her name makes something turn over in her stomach, makes her fingers start to move a little bit faster and crook just so.
Brittany gasps, “Don’t stop. Oh, Santana, don’t stop.”
Santana wants to tell her that she never will.
+
When Brittany comes again, it’s even harder than before, and she falls back against the mattress, her back arching up as Santana tries to hold on. Brittany makes a noise somewhere between a laugh and a moan and squeezes her legs together, the hand on the back of Santana’s head urging her away until Santana is resting her head against Brittany’s thigh, breathing hard.
Santana stays close and waits for her own breathing to even out along with Brittany’s, pressing soft kisses to Brittany’s thigh as she rests her head there, her fingers clutching at her hip and holding her close. It feels like forever until Brittany moves, and then she pushes herself up on her elbow and sweeps her hair out of her eyes to look down at Santana, happy smile on her face, and Santana feels the last of the tension seep out of her at the expression on Brittany’s face, soft and open and loving, until there’s nothing left but a tiny memory in the back of her mind and a vague sense of embarrassment at the way she felt earlier.
“Hi,” Santana says softly, feeling her lips quirk up into a smile when Brittany reaches to cup her face in her hand and tugs her upwards.
“Hey,” Brittany whispers back, leaning down to meet Santana halfway as she comes up. Brittany kisses her softly as she pulls Santana into her lap, her legs either side of Brittany’s as Brittany sucks her tongue into her mouth and nips at her bottom lip slowly. She can’t help the way she leans into Brittany or the way she kisses her back desperately, and she feels Brittany smile into the next kiss before pulling back to kiss a trail up to her ear.
“You’re still wearing all of your clothes,” Brittany mock whines, her hand sliding down to hook under the bottom of Santana’s dress and tug, making sure that she drags her fingers over Santana’s skin as she pulls it up and over her head. She tosses it aside and kisses every bit of Santana’s skin that she can reach, and there’s something about the way she moves that makes Santana think she’s being careful with her, like she’s a precious thing that Brittany is trying to protect. She feels something in her stomach flip flop again.
Brittany unhooks Santana’s bra and draws it down her arms carefully, leaning forward to kiss each patch of skin revealed in its wake, until her tongue flicks over a nipple and Santana whines in the back of her throat and pulls her up so she can kiss her again. Brittany cups her face in her hands and kisses her slow and sweet, sighing and smiling into every kiss like she’s never been happier, and Santana can feel herself melt into the contact, until waking up alone feels like a bad dream that Brittany is kissing away, holding her until the memory fades and everything is okay again.
Brittany shifts a little until she has one hand behind Santana’s head and the other at the small of her back, and she half stands and turns, guiding Santana down onto the bed without breaking the kiss, her hands holding her all the way until her head finds the pillow and settles into it. Brittany’s hips bracket hers, pressing against her when she arches up into the next kiss, and Brittany’s fingertips trace patterns over her body, lower and lower, over her breasts and stomach, and then down to her thigh and up to her hip, her thumb hooking into the waistband of her underwear and staying there for a second as their kisses deepen again.
She’s not even aware that she’s holding Brittany so tightly until Brittany pulls back to look at her, pressing tiny kisses to her chin and cheek when Santana looks surprised at the loss of contact. “You gotta let me go so I can rid of these,” she says softly as her thumb tugs at the last bit of fabric between them again. “I’ll come right back, Santana. Right back.” Brittany kisses her again to prove her point and Santana loosens her grip around Brittany’s back, smoothing her fingers down her spine and away, letting Brittany go.
She still watches anxiously when Brittany pushes herself up and rocks backwards with her legs underneath her so she can pull Santana’s panties off reverently, her fingers brushing down her legs in the wake of the fabric. Brittany exhales shakily once she’s dropped Santana’s underwear on to the floor, sitting back on her feet as she stares at Santana lying in front of her.
Brittany’s gaze isn’t hungry or lecherous when she looks at her, and Santana’s half sure that Brittany’s eyes are fixed on her face anyway, and that she doesn’t even see the rest of her. She doesn’t look at her the way the boys did who came before, and the thought hits her suddenly that she never has, that she’s always looked at her this way, her expression soft and full of love, but also a little bit surprised like Santana takes her breath away, every single time.
She wonders if Brittany knows she takes her breath away too, whenever she looks at her.
Brittany reaches forward slowly with one hand and swirls the tip of her index finger around Santana’s hipbone, then drags it higher, until her palm is resting against Santana’s chest over her heart, and Santana is sure she must be able to feel the way its trying to beat its way out of her chest. She tries to force her breathing to stay even but fails, feeling it catch in the back of her throat, and watches the way the corners of Brittany’s mouth crook up into a smile when she hears it.
“I love you,” Brittany says through her shy smile, leaning forward so that she’s hovering over Santana and using her hand to hold herself up, her other still resting against Santana’s heart.
“I love you too,” Santana murmurs, barely above a whisper but loud enough for Brittany to hear, and then Brittany sinks down on top of her, one arm snaking between Santana and the mattress so she can hold her as she kisses her, licking into her mouth slowly, their foreheads bumping together as Brittany stays as close as she can.
Santana gasps into Brittany’s mouth when Brittany’s hand moves from her heart and finds its way between her legs, Brittany’s fingers settling into a slow rhythm between their bodies. They kiss lazily and a little clumsily, stopping whenever Santana gasps, so close that they’re breathing on some sort of cycle into each other’s mouths, and Santana’s half sure they might run out of oxygen but can’t find it in her to care.
She tries to keep her eyes open, even though all she can see is a blur of cornflower blue eyes and honey blonde hair, Brittany’s sun-kissed skin and freckles dancing in front of her whenever she blinks. She knows Brittany is doing the same when she pulls back the tiniest bit and the blur becomes her smiling face, hovering above her for just a second before she leans in to kiss her again. Brittany’s breathing sounds just as ragged as hers, and she hums into their kisses, her tongue brushing against Santana’s as she sucks it into her mouth, sloppy and clumsy as she concentrates on moving her hand and Santana tries to stop her hips rocking up and pushing them apart.
She doesn’t think she’s ever been this close to Brittany before, doesn’t think Brittany has ever held her like this, like she’s gathered her up and is keeping her safe from the rest of the world, using her whole body to protect her and hold her together. It tugs at something low in her belly, something that has nothing to do with what Brittany’s fingers are doing between her legs, and her hands tighten against Brittany’s back beneath her shoulder blade as Brittany rocks into her and kisses her neck, sucking at her pulse point for a second before coming back up and finding her lips again.
Santana can’t stop herself from groaning into Brittany’s mouth as she feels everything tighten within her and she comes against Brittany’s fingers, can’t stop her hips from bucking up and her eyes rolling back in her head before she has to close them for a second. She knows Brittany is watching her and she tries to open her eyes and find her lips again, succeeding only in pressing a messy kiss to the corner of Brittany’s mouth. She grins when Brittany laughs, low and throaty, and presses her forehead against Santana’s again as her fingers slow and still, drawing the last of Santana’s orgasm from her.
Brittany kisses every inch of her face while she tries to regain her breath; her cheeks, lips, nose, and eyelids, tiny little kisses that ghost against her skin and tickle more than they linger, until Santana laughs and interrupts her, finding her lips with her own and kissing her, slow and deep, and Brittany sighs out contentedly and pulls back to look at her, fingers tracing over her cheekbone when Santana’s eyes settle on hers.
“Hi,” Brittany says with a grin, brushing some of Santana’s hair away from her face.
“Hey,” Santana whispers back happily, and snuggles into her embrace, her whole body feeling heavy and sleepy as she relaxes into her. Brittany presses another kiss to her forehead and then shifts a little, and Santana starts, clutching Brittany to her, thinking suddenly that she’s going to go away.
“Hey,” Brittany whispers and presses a kiss to the underside of Santana’s chin. “I still got you, okay?” She only moves until she’s lying next to Santana on her side, one leg thrown over Santana’s hips carelessly as she settles against her, her hand lying on her heart again, her fingers twitching against her skin in time with the beats.
“I’ve always got you,” Brittany murmurs softly, and when she snuggles closer and holds her with the arm still underneath her, Santana believes it.
+
She thinks she falls asleep, because the next thing she knows Brittany is brushing her fingers against her cheek softly as she murmurs, “I got tacos if you’re hungry.” Santana’s eye flutter open just in time to see Brittany blush when she adds, “I think they might have gotten cold now though.”
“Is that where you went?” Santana asks after a minute, once she’s rubbed her hand over her face in an attempt to wake herself up.
Brittany nods, and presses a kiss to her shoulder as she sits up. “I was gonna go to McDonalds for breakfast,” she pauses for half a second before she carries on. “But I went the wrong way, and by the time I got there it was after 10.30.” She shrugs like it’s no big deal, “So I got Chipotle instead.”
“Tacos sound good,” Santana says through a yawn, and Brittany nods, kissing her shoulder again before she slides out of bed in search of their food.
She bends down to retrieve her shirt from the floor when she goes and pulls it over her head without bothering to put her bra on, then steps into her underwear as well, laughing a little when Santana pretends to whine from her place on the bed.
“Do you want your food or not?” Brittany asks, swinging the bag from her hand and Santana grins, trying her best to look contrite.
“Can you get me something to wear too?” She points at her overnight bag and grins when Brittany pretends to huff, watching as she pulls a clean shirt and underwear out of her duffle.
Santana rolls onto her back when Brittany comes closer, and she drops the clothes on to her chest as she leans forward to kiss her, upside down and clumsy so that Santana’s nose is pressing into Brittany’s chin and they both end up laughing, Santana rolling her eyes when Brittany pulls away.
“You must have mistaken me for Sam,” Santana says, sitting up to pull the shirt over her head, “He’s into that Spider-man stuff, not me.”
Brittany just gives her a look as she pulls the food out of the bag and holds out a bottle of water to her, waiting for her to pull her panties on.
“What?” Santana asks as she takes the water and unwraps her food, and when she looks up at her she’s pretty sure Brittany is hiding a smirk as she takes a bite of her food and chews slowly, eyes flashing.
“Nothing,” she says after a moment, and laughs when Santana rolls her eyes again.
The food’s still good even though it’s cold, and they eat mostly in silence, stealing little bits from each other the way they always do when they have something different, each trying to convince the other that theirs is better. She didn’t realise how hungry she was until she started eating, and for a second she doesn’t think she’s ever tasted anything so good before she fights the sudden urge to cross herself and call her abuela to apologise.
The thought of her abuela sends a pang of homesickness through her, the same way mentioning Sam did before, and she wonders what their families and friends are doing back in Lima, if they’re missing them or if they’ve even noticed they’re gone. She suddenly wants to hear her mama’s voice more than anything, and she glances at her phone on the bedside table, wondering if she’d be at home if she called.
Brittany reaches over to take the wrapper from her food away, scrunching it into a ball with hers and tossing it back into the bag, pulling her from her thoughts. Brittany stares at her for a second, as though she’s trying to work something out, and she reaches over to brush her fingers against her chin softly. “What’s wrong, honey love?”
She shrugs but has a feeling that won’t work, and sure enough Brittany just keeps looking at her, her hand finding Santana’s and rubbing between the knuckles, waiting for her to say something. “Homesick,” Santana says eventually, then shrugs and looks away. “I think I’m gonna go get my phone charger out of the car and call my mom.”
She brings Brittany’s hand up to her lips and kisses her knuckles before climbing off the bed while Brittany nods and watches her go. She yawns and stretches herself back on the bed, reaching for her own phone in the pockets of her shorts on the floor.
“I’ll be right here,” she says, holding her gaze for a moment to make sure she heard, and Santana feels a phantom pang at the words.
She shakes her head to try and clear it, hoping it looks like a nod.
She pulls the shorts out of Brittany’s hands and tugs them up her legs before Brittany can say anything about it, shooting her a smile over her shoulder as she swipes her car keys and the keycard from the desk and heads for the door.
+
She takes a moment to lean against the wall and just breathe once she’s out in the hallway, trying to work out what the feeling twisting her stomach is as she starts to walk, trailing her fingers down the wall as she heads outside slowly, nodding curtly at the guy who beams at her from behind the reception desk as she heads for the doors.
She blinks against the sun when she gets outside, shielding her eyes with her hand as she crosses the parking lot to their car. The sun glints off the silver paintwork, and as she moves closer, reaching for the door to pull it open, something glints on the inside too, catching her eye.
She stills when she realises what it is, swallowing against the sudden tightness in her throat.
The ring is just where Brittany left it, sitting in the cupholder under the radio, and she blinks quickly, forcing herself to look away. Her eyes drift back to it slowly, like maybe if she goes carefully it won’t be there by the time she looks, but it still is, and she moves her hand towards it slowly before stopping, hovering halfway between her and the ring before dropping away.
She swallows again and tears her gaze away, scrambling further into the car and leaning over the console to rummage through her glove box until she finds her phone charger and cradles it in her hand. She starts to move back now that she has what she wants but the ring catches her eye again, and she wonders wildly if the sun is doing that on purpose, or if it’s always shined through her windscreen like that.
She’s fairly sure the sun in Lima never acted this way.
She stares at the ring for a long moment before she darts her hand out to grab it and slip it on to the finger of her left hand, forcing herself to look away as she climbs out of the car and slams the door behind her.
She locks the car and heads back inside quickly, hurrying back the way she came, and just before she gets to their room she pauses and glances down at the ring again, twisting it round her finger for a second before pulling it off and moving it to her index finger instead.
She stares at it for a moment longer before she she reaches for the keycard and pushes it into the slot.
+
Brittany is where she left her on the bed, and after she plugs her charger into the wall and into her phone, giving it a minute to charge up before she switches it on, she sinks down next to her, and watches Brittany tap out a text message to Quinn with quick, deft movements.
She reaches for Santana’s hand absentmindedly when she’s done, and when her thumb moves to rub against her knuckles Santana holds her breath, wondering if Brittany will notice the ring.
Her thumb falters for just a second when it encounters metal before moving again, and she’s sure she sees Brittany glance down at her hand for just a second before she looks back at her phone, and Santana exhales a little shakily, hoping Brittany won’t notice.
If Brittany does, she doesn’t say anything, and when Santana pulls away to retrieve her phone and call her mom, Brittany lets her go, eyes fixed on the phone in her hand like they don’t dare look anywhere else.
+
Calling her mom takes longer than she thought it would because she doesn’t want to hang up, even though they’re not really talking about anything at all. She sits back against the headboard because it’s the only place she can sit and have the cord from her charger still reach, and Brittany curls into her, the fingers of her left hand tangled around Santana’s right, so she can still text while she sits there, pressing kisses to Santana’s knees every now and then and catching her by surprise.
Her mom tells her about how much they’re all missing her, and how Brittany’s mom called and asked if Santana’s parents wanted to go out to dinner with them one evening, so they could miss their girls together and compare childhood stories, and the thought makes Santana feel a little funny though she’s not entirely sure why.
It’s only when she asks if her father is around to talk for the third time and her mom sighs and says, “He’s at work,” again that her mom asks her if she’s okay, and Santana makes a noncommittal noise into the receiver, somewhere between a yes and a no.
There’s a pause before her mom speaks, and then she says, “Santana... are you and Brittany okay? Salt Lake is-” She trails off and there’s a pause while she tries to work out what to say. “You’re okay, right?” Santana can hear the concern in her voice, lurking under the forced casual way she asks the questions.
“Nothing bad happened to us,” Santana says quickly, because it didn’t, not the way her mom means, and she sees Brittany glance up at her out of the corner of her eye, almost like she wants to argue. “We just got in late last night, and I’m still a little tired.”
That makes her mom sigh in exasperation instead and puts them back on familiar ground, “It’s the middle of the afternoon! You should be out seeing the city.”
“We’re just enjoying being in one place,” Santana says softly, and Brittany squeezes her hand at the words, like she’s agreeing with her.
Her mom makes a disapproving sound in the back of her throat, and Santana rolls her eyes, suddenly glad she can’t see. “We’ll be in California in a couple of days,” Santana says, interrupting her mom before she can speak again. “We’re saving all our exploring for then, okay?”
“Well make sure that you do,” her mom says firmly, and there’s a pause before she says, “If you wanted to stay in bed with Brittany you could have done that at home,” quickly and a little bit sternly, all in a rush, like she can’t believe she’s saying it.
Santana blushes so furiously that she almost drops the phone, and it’s only when Brittany looks up at her, trying to silently ask what’s wrong, that she speaks, “Bye mom, tell dad I love him.” Her voice comes out kind of strangled and Brittany’s face scrunches in confusion.
She hangs up with fumbling fingers and almost throws the phone away from her, wrapping an arm around Brittany’s shoulders and leaning forward to bury her face against her shoulder as she groans. “My mom thinks we’re having some kind of sex marathon,” she mumbles after a minute, and feels rather than hears Brittany laugh against her.
When she finally looks up, Brittany is grinning at her like she’s the cutest thing she’s ever seen, and she offers her a tiny shrug, “She’s kind of right.”
Santana opens her mouth to protest, but Brittany laughs and leans forward to cut her off with a kiss, and Santana’s words are lost against her lips.
+
Santana checks through her plans for the rest of the journey while Brittany uploads some of the pictures from her camera to her computer next to her, their feet bumping against each other at the bottom of the mattress. Brittany’s left hand rubs at Santana’s thigh absentmindedly while she cycles through the photos and transfers them off her memory card, and Santana ends up giving up on her plans in favour of watching her fingers skip over the trackpad, watching Brittany’s mouth twist in concentration as she evaluates each photo before deciding whether to keep it or not.
When she gets to the ones she took of Santana in Iowa, her mouth quirks into a smile and she lingers over them, leaving them open while she skips through the others and glancing back at them every now and then.
Santana doesn’t think Brittany knows she’s watching her, and when she starts going through the transferred photos and sorting them into folders, Santana shifts a little, trying to get a better look. There’s a folder called ‘For Quinn’ that all the fields and mountains and canyons go into, and another called ‘Dorktour ‘12’ that she puts the funny ones of herself and Santana in-Brittany peering into the lens so there’s just a photo of her eye, one of Santana trying to push the camera away while she’s driving that’s mostly her hand, one of the both of them leaning together and pulling their faces, half cut off because Brittany was holding the camera and guessing when they were in frame-and soon enough she just has a list of ten or so photos left that she highlights quickly and drags into another folder, one that Santana can’t see the name of because Brittany angles the screen down and moves to unplug her camera, so that Santana has to look back down at her plans quickly before Brittany notices she’s trying to see.
Brittany stretches her arms up over her head until her shoulders pop, and then she slumps down against Santana and nudges her foot with hers, grinning when Santana looks up from her map. “I’m gonna go take a shower,” she says, screwing the lens cap back onto her camera carefully and setting it back in its padded case. She brushes her hand against Santana’s thigh again, in a way that makes something in Santana sit up and take notice, and she shivers a little when Brittany’s fingers dance a little higher. “Are you coming?”
She opens her mouth to say yes just as her phone starts to ring, and Brittany laughs, pushing her towards it with a sigh. “You should answer that,” she says with a smirk, standing up and pulling her t-shirt over her head before dropping it carelessly on the end of the bed.
She still isn’t wearing a bra, and Santana swallows. “I can call them back,” she says quickly, but Brittany’s already pulling her wash bag from her duffle and disappearing into the bathroom, and Santana stares after her, mouth hanging open a little.
Her phone rings again, insistent, and she reaches for it slowly, her brain still stuck on the sight of Brittany in nothing but her underwear, padding into the bathroom.
She hears the water come on, and then Brittany sticks her head around the door, that smirk still on her face. “I’ll be waiting,” she says, and then she tosses something at Santana, something that it takes Santana a minute to realise is her underwear, and Santana presses her thumb against the screen so hard she’s half surprised it doesn’t crack.
“This better be very fucking good, Samuel,” she says brusquely when she hears him say hi.
He falters for just a second before he carries on, unphased by her tone, “I’ve just been to the comic book store, and the new Batwoman came in. You’ll never guess who’s back-”
Santana holds her hand up like she’s trying to cut him off even though he can’t see her. “If your next words aren’t Renee Montoya and/or The Question, I’m going to find a way to smack you through the phone.”
Sam trails off, and she’s just wondering if he’d forgive her for hanging up on him when he speaks again. “Dude, you sound kind of weird. What’s going on? Did something happen?”
She really wants to hate the earnest way he asks, the concern clear in his voice, but she finds it just makes her miss him more, and she holds the phone a little closer to her ear, listening to the sound of his breathing and wondering how even that sounds sincere and solid, just like him.
“Nothing’s wrong, Sammy,” she says, voice a little softer than before. “But Brittany’s in the shower right now and the only reason I’m not is because I’m talking to you.”
He’s silent for about a second before he bursts out laughing and she gets offended that she’s talking to him instead of showering with her girlfriend all over again, and she’s pretty sure he laughs harder when she huffs out an indignant breath, trying to find something to say.
“Is it still cockblocking if it’s two girls?” Sam manages to ask through his laughter, and Santana snorts in spite of herself.
“I’m hanging up now,” she says as flatly as she can, only it’s undone by the smile on her face.
“May the Force be with you,” Sam says solemnly, and then cracks up all over again just as she ends the call.
She stares at her phone in disbelief for a second, before she sets it back down on the table and tries her best to get Sam Evans and his geekiness out of her head. She loves Sam, she really does, but she does not need to be thinking about him or fucking lightsabers while Brittany is in the shower on the other side of the wall.
She glances as Brittany’s computer as she climbs off the bed and searches for her shampoo, and for half a second her curiosity gets the better of her and she considers looking which folder Brittany transferred the pictures into, but then Brittany shouts something that sounds a lot like her name, half whine and half need, and she scrambles towards the bathroom, shedding her clothes as she goes.
+
Brittany’s rinsing the shampoo out of her hair when Santana climbs in next to her, and she waits until all the suds are gone before she slides her arms around Brittany’s waist and presses herself against her back, bumping her nose into Brittany’s hair and kissing the back of her neck while Brittany hums and steps forward so Santana is under the water.
She splutters a little when some of the water gets into her mouth and nose, shaking her head as she squeezes her eyes shut and whines against Brittany’s skin.
Brittany laughs and turns into her embrace, kissing her eyelids in turn. “That’s one way to get clean.”
“You’re mean,” Santana says without much feeling, but she still doesn’t open her eyes, and after a second, Brittany’s nose brushes against hers, almost making her jump in surprise. Brittany’s lips are warm and wet from the water raining down on them, and they kiss under the stream, giggling into every kiss as the water makes their skin flush pink and warm and tender beneath their fingers.
part seven b