fic: through the bars of a rhyme, 5/8
title: through the bars of a rhyme (5/8)
fandom: glee
pairing: santana lopez/brittany pierce
rating: T
summary: She was tall, lean, and blonde and Santana barely caught a glimpse of her as she bounced down the steps, but it was enough. AU.
A/N: Sorry for the awfully long wait, there was vacation and now school and I suck. This chapter is almost ridiculously long to make up for it, though!
like the stars above.
Her fingers were unforgiving on her skin. They pulled tight on her eyes, hard against her eyebrows, smoothed against her cheeks, and dipped around the edges of her jaw. They smeared gloss on her lips and pushed a sliver of hair back into her sleek ponytail. They were also precise, though, and the lines of eyeliner above her eyes were straight and even. Her mascara was smooth, her blush blended.
Santana took a step back from the mirror and surveyed the results. Her skin was flawless, her eyes defined. Her mouth looked soft and pink. Her hair swung in a light curl, pulled up close in a ponytail, per Coach Sylvester’s orders. Her Cheerios uniform contrasted warmly with her dark skin.
She smiled a tiny smile. It curved the edges of her mouth and sparkled in her eyes. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt that little curl in her stomach when she got dressed in the morning.
Strangely, that morning was the first morning in three months she hadn’t received a text from Sam to wake her up. She had waited without really waiting, her eyes set on her phone. She knew it wasn’t coming. And somehow, that wasn’t the big disappointment she had been expecting.
No, the feeling in her chest oddly resembled relief.
She smoothed the pleats of her skirt and shut off the lights to the bathroom, catching one last glimpse of her hopeful eyes in the mirror.
-
The morning was soft with spring. A pleasant breeze teased at Santana’s ponytail as she walked through the front doors to McKinley. She reveled, maybe, just a little bit, in the way a path parted for her to walk through untouched and uninterrupted. Sometimes, she could see why Quinn got off on this.
Her eyes fell on a familiar uniform on a tall, pretty blonde girl who was walking like she’d rather be dancing. Santana’s stomach did a happy swirl and she sped up a little, making her strides long to match Brittany’s. She reached and her hand wrapped around Brittany’s arm, pulling the girl to a stop. Brittany spun, ever graceful, and the uneasy look in her eyes faded instantly when she recognized Santana.
“Hey!” Her smile was bright and warm everything Santana was starting to realize Brittany was.
“Hi.” Santana pulled Brittany out of the middle of the hallway, leading them toward a row of lockers. “Good morning.” Her smile was teasing and well perfected, almost instinctive, though she couldn’t recall using it on a girl before. Brittany blushed anyway, her eyes lighting up.
“Morning.” She was openly staring down at Santana, her hands clasped cutely in front of her. “What’s up?” They looked way too good in their matching Cheerio uniforms and Santana, brave in her newfound freedom, reached out to trace her fingertips against the seams of Brittany’s top.
“What are you doing tonight?” Santana asked. She looked up at Brittany as if the fingers of one hand weren’t currently dipping into the space between her top and skirt. Brittany shrugged.
“Painting my laptop lime green.” Santana squinted at her.
“Do you think you could reschedule?”
“For you? Of course.” Brittany tilted her head down and watched Santana’s hand as it came to a rest on her hip, high enough to be respectable but low enough that it counted. Santana smirked- like, actually leaned into a locker and titled her head and let her lips curve into something dangerous. She pulled her hand back and crossed her arms in an effort to keep her hands to herself.
“Good, because Puckerman’s having a party tonight and it’s pretty much mandatory for Cheerios.” Santana was still staring into Brittany’s eyes like she couldn’t possible look anywhere else, when their little world was suddenly rocked off its axis.
“You must be Brittany.”
Their eyes flickered away simultaneously.
Santana had known Quinn Fabray since they were small enough to tumble down plastic slides. She knew almost every one of her moods and the majority of her flaws. She had seen Quinn jealous more times than she could count, but she didn’t think she had ever seen Quinn actually jealous over her.
Brittany, always friendly first, took in Quinn’s matching Cheerio uniform and smiled, but by the time she’d opened her mouth, it was too late.
“I’m Quinn Fabray, your Cheerio captain, although you’ll be more than aware of that by the end of practice this afternoon.” Santana’s eyebrows rose. Brittany, to her credit, didn’t let her eyes drop from Quinn’s, but her fingers fluttered toward Santana’s. Santana let them brush comfortingly.
“Oh. Well, I’ll be there.” Brittany promised, her smile glazing right over Quinn’s threatening stance. Santana wondered if Quinn could see the hesitation clear in Brittany’s eyes as well as she could. But Quinn only regarded Brittany curiously for a moment, before training her gaze on Santana.
“I need you at practice fifteen minutes early. You owe Coach two miles.” Before Santana could respond to that passive aggressive statement, Quinn spun on her heel. Her Cheerios skirt swirled dramatically and she stalked down the hall. Santana turned to Brittany.
“She’s scary.” Brittany intoned. Her eyes were trained on Quinn’s departing figure. Santana nodded absently, her arms crossed, her gaze narrowed.
“Something must have crawled up her ass and died.“ Santana pushed off the locker and looped her pinky with Brittany’s, asking more than pulling her away. “Hopefully she’ll chill out by tonight.”
“Oh, but party!” Brittany said happily. “Can I dance?”
-
“You’re a bitch.” Santana huffed out as she dropped rather ungracefully into her desk. Her ponytail was sticking sweaty to the back of her neck and she whipped it away, some small part of her pleased when Rachel cringed in her seat. She set her gaze on Quinn, who was studiously staring at the whiteboard. “Hello? Virgin Mary, I’m talking to you.”
Quinn’s head turned toward Santana very slowly, as if her whole body was protesting it. Her gaze was cool.
Santana was unimpressed.
“What are you talking about?” Santana bristled, her gaze narrowing.
“I’m talking about the six laps I just ran after practice.”
“I told you. Coach said you owed her.”
“Fuck that noise. Coach hasn’t made me run extras since freshmen year. Something’s stuck up your ass and for some stupid fucking reason you’ve decided to take it out on me.” Quinn rolled her eyes and turned her eyes back to the front of the classroom.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” Quinn said calmly.
“I think you’re forgetting that I’ve known you since forever and I can see directly through your shit. I don’t know why you’re getting all green over some new-” Quinn’s head swiveled back in her direction, her eyes blazing.
“Don’t you ever know when to shut up?” The words flew past Rachel, who was attempting to be as small as possible between the two girls. Santana took her advice, biting down on the phrases that threatened to fly off her tongue. She was aware that the frustration boiling in her stomach wasn’t entirely Quinn’s fault.
“Look, Quinn, I’m not going to ditch you for-“
“It’s not even about that.” Quinn hissed. Her eyes betrayed her for a moment, shifting forward to look for any prying ears.
“Then please, Fabray, fucking enlighten me.” Santana dropped back in her seat, eyebrows raised expectantly. Quinn regarded her passively for a moment, and then shook her head.
“Later, okay?” Her eyes were hesitant and Santana could see honest anxiety shining through, so she backed off. Quinn turned back to the board. Her shoulders were tense and her head high. Santana could feel Rachel’s eyes shifting toward her and she snapped her head in the midget’s direction.
“What are you looking at, Berry?” Santana slouched down, arms tightly crossed.
Rachel blinked once, but turned her gaze back down to her notes.
-
Quinn and Santana, somewhat reconciled in the face of the glee club’s unrelenting cheeriness, held court in their regular chairs on the second row. Santana was picking disinterestedly at her nails, trying to avoid Sam’s stony gaze from across the room. She stared blandly at Mr. Shue. She was sure he was most likely talking, but his words couldn’t pass through the hazy fog she was distracted in. Her eyes flickered over to Quinn, who had that impenetrable indifference painted across her face.
Santana squinted at her for a moment, before the side door opened and Mike Change slid in, pulling Brittany along behind him.
Wait.
Santana’s hands trapped each other in her lap and her eyes caught Brittany’s, who smiled brightly at her.
“Hey, Mr. Shue.” Mike effectively interrupted the rather dreary speech Mr. Shuester had been droning through. “This is Brittany. She’d like to join glee club.” Mr. Shue’s face grew into a grin and he practically thrashed Brittany’s hand with enthusiasm.
“Well, Brittany we are so thrilled to have you. Just take a seat anywhere, I was about to give everyone their assign-“
“Excuse me, Mr. Shuester, but shouldn’t she have to try out?” Rachel squeaked from the front row, practically falling out of her seat.
“Shut up, Berry, she doesn’t need to audition.” Brittany was already halfway to Santana, but paused mid-step, seeming hesitant.
“No, I- I will if you want.” She shrugged. “Do have any, like, Beyonce?” Mr. Shue hesitated for a moment- Santana could practically hear him trying to reconcile Beyonce with the catalogue of classic rock she was sure filled that curly head.
“Here-” Mercedes held out her iPod, the Beyonce page already up. “Take your pick.” A minute later the iPod was jacked into the dock and Brittany was letting her hair down from the strict Cheerios ponytail, tangling her fingers through it, and rolling her shoulders. Brittany caught Santana’s eye briefly and heat rose up on Santana’s cheeks, a blush that she hoped no one else would notice.
Then the music kicked in and she stopped breathing, letting everything else go in favor of watching Brittany dance. It wasn’t pure and liquid like it had been that first night, and thank god it wasn’t slow and dirty like she had been in the studio. It wasn’t even cut and professional like their Cheerios routine. It was something else entirely, a free dance that radiated confidence and talent. She’d chosen Diva and it was quick and strong and Brittany snapped and popped to it, a teasing smile flirting with the edges of her mouth, an edge in her eyes.
Halfway through, she crooked one finger towards Mike and he practically levitated out of his seat to join her on the floor. They moved in unison, reading each other in an entirely natural way that seemed peculiar to dancers. The song cut to a stop and they held their position, staring each other down until Brittany started laughing and the room exploded into applause. Finn appeared to have trouble staying his seat and Mr. Shue’s mouth hung wide open, to Santana’s amusement.
When Brittany hopped up the steps and flung herself in Santana’s arms- well, that didn’t exactly damper her mood, either.
-
The air was still warm with the heat of the day when Santana slid into her convertible. She tossed her bag into the passenger seat and shifted into reverse with practiced ease. Strong fingers gripped the steering wheel and the car curved hard out of the garage. The houses flew past rapidly, green blurring into nothing.
She fidgeted with the radio, switching from R&B and back to top 40. She finally settled on a slow jam and let the music lay a soft beat to the background. Her windows were down, the wind dancing with her lightly curled hair. Her dress was skintight and her heels were high, but it was the sparkle in her eyes that was going to make her the life of the party tonight.
She pulled into Brittany’s driveway slow and smooth, the gravel shifting under her wheels. Her heels crunched in the rock, but her footing was solid. The sun had just set in the sky and the neighborhood was quiet and warm gray, the greens of the trees bright and harsh. The lights in the Pierces’ windows shone warm yellow.
She knocked twice on the door and waited for the pattering footsteps of Brittany’s little sister.
“Who is it?” Sang out from behind the wood. Santana fought a smile.
“It’s Santana.” The door swung open and Santana looked down at Annie, who had the remains of chocolate cake smeared on her cheeks.
“Sannn!” She was all of four and adorable and she threw herself at Santana, who lifted her up in an attempt to keep the chocolate off her dress.
“Where’s Britt?” Annie tilted her head toward the stairs as Santana walked inside, hip-checking the door shut behind her.
“Alright, kiddo, I don’t think I can handle the stairs with you and these heels.” Santana bent down and set Annie back on the ground. When she turned her eyes back to the stairs, Brittany was at the top, her blonde hair long and straight, her shorts tiny and ruffled.
“Hey!” She grinned a little shyly and started down the stairs.
“Hi.” Santana said, swallowing once and glancing back down at Annie in an effort to look casual. Brittany took the last few steps with her hands braced on the banister and the wall, and fell into Santana’s arms, almost sending them both to the ground.
Santana’s stomach roiled with a mixture of emotions.
When Brittany pulled away, she left her face far too close to Santana’s. Her hands rested, friendly, on Santana’s sides.
“You look great. Are you ready?”
“Whenever you are.”
Brittany leaned down and kissed Annie once on the top of her head, then called out to her parents. “I’m gone!” They stepped out into the warm night air, Brittany’s hand finding a spot in the crook of Santana’s arm. Santana swung the car door open for her, a grand gesture of chivalry, and Brittany laughed as she dipped inside. Santana failed miserably to hide her smile as she circled the car to the driver’s side.
The door shut softly. The car was quiet, shielding them from the rest of the world, and Santana turned to Brittany before she started the engine.
“I hope you brought the supplies.”
Brittany’s smile was dangerous. She hefted a bottle of cheap tequila out of her bag and held it aloft.
The night air practically sang with its possibilities.
-
Puck seemed intent on taking advantage of the sweet spring weather. Santana could hear booming music when she rolled up in front of his house. Slipping out the door and locking it twice, she and Brittany followed the beat down the driveway and around the corner. Santana felt back and hooked her pinky into Brittany’s without thinking about it, subtly leading her through the rusted gate and into the fray. Puck’s iPod was thumping dutifully from a table near the back door and most of the party was grouped around a patio table, where Puckerman himself was orchestrating a game of poker. Others stood on the pebbly cement, beer cans sweating in their hands, sun glasses on against the warmly setting sun.
Most of the Glee Club was mesmerized by the poker game. Tina was settled comfortably on Mike’s lap, squinting at his array of cards. Finn looked more than confused about the entire game and he kept leaning over to mutter questions at Sam. Santana ran a fond hand over Puck’s Mohawk and he grinned at her from behind a thick cigar, his aviators reflecting the pit fire that was flickering in a corner of his barren back yard.
Santana glanced over, mostly to make sure it wasn’t going to start a forest fire Lima would never forget, and stumbled when she saw who was gathered around the flames. Brittany, always graceful, stopped on a dime behind Santana, her hands falling on Santana’s hips.
Quinn and Rachel sat on almost opposite sides of the flames, each claiming a blanket on the dead grass. They were talking quietly to each other, Quinn’s eyes focused on the fire, Rachel digging in the dirt next to her.
Santana stared.
“It’s not so big. I think they’ll be okay.” Brittany murmured in her ear, hands still soft on her waist. Santana blinked twice.
“What?”
“The fire. I’m sure they’re fine.” Santana turned in Brittany’s grasp, already shaking her head. She was relieved Quinn hadn’t seen her staring. Maybe this was good, but maybe this was really, really bad.
“Oh, no, I just- well Quinn-.” Santana quit, unsure of how to explain the two girls’ relationship to Brittany. Now that she thought about it, actually, their entire relationship was fucking weird. She snuck another glance at the two. Quinn just kept staring at the fire, nodding along to whatever Rachel was saying.
Santana made a face.
“I need a drink.” She broke away from Brittany’s hands gently and led the way across the patio and though the back door, into Puck’s neat but worn kitchen. Two steps in and she set her purse on the counter, already digging for the tequila, heavy at the bottom. She set it on the counter with a thunk and pulled open the fridge to dig out the orange juice and Sprite.
When she turned back, Brittany was measuring alcohol into two Solo cups. Santana smirked. She knew there was a good reason she and Brittany made great friends. She slid the orange juice down the counter and Brittany caught it without looking up. Santana popped the tab on the Sprite can and moved in next to the girl, their hips touching lightly. They worked quickly, mixing their drinks to whatever ratio they liked better, and Santana gave hers a quick swirl before offering a toast.
She lifted the cup and her eyes glinted.
“To tonight.” She said. Their hips were still too close and Brittany smiled, surprising Santana again with her easy, open eyes, with the humor dancing in them.
“To tonight.” Brittany murmured, tapping her cup against Santana’s. They locked eyes and took the first sip. The alcohol was sharp in Santana’s nose- she always did mix her drinks too strong- and Brittany’s perfume was just as intoxicating when she leaned forward and pressed a neat, soft kiss against Brittany’s cheek.
“Let’s go take some asshole’s money.” Santana said, and grabbed her bag and spun out of the kitchen before Brittany could react.
If had she stayed, though, she might have seen the rosy blush that bloomed right where her lips had met skin.
The poker game was still going strong. Surprisingly, Kurt seemed to have the upper hand, judging from the amount of pennies stacked before him. Santana drug a low bench over to the side of the table and squeezed in between Mike and Mercedes. Brittany pressed in close, leaning a shoulder against Mike’s chair.
“Sorry, ladies but you’re going to have to wait for the next round.” Puck said, his aviators still glinting in the sun. Santana rolled her eyes.
“Its fine, I’ll let you keep your money for another ten minutes.” Beside her, Mercedes rolled her eyes.
“Girl, I wish you were joking.” She said, laying her cards and sighing a heavy ‘fold’. Santana stretched her
legs out underneath the table, thigh brushing against Brittany’s. She buried her smile in a sip of her drink.
“So, anyone have a clue about what’s occurring near the fire pit, right now?” Kurt’s voice was low and he tilted his head toward Quinn and Rachel. His eyes found Santana’s across the table, but she just shrugged and shook her head, lifting her drink back to her mouth.
“They were like that when I got here.” Tina chipped in, leaning further into Mike. Puck remained silent on the subject, his focus set on the cards in his hand.
“Quinn showed up and just disappeared over there.” Sam was staring at his cards and his voice, though quiet, was easily heard by everyone at the table. “Then, Rachel walked in, saw her, and went right over. They’ve just been talking since then.” The table was silent as they all digested this. No one was willing to bring up the reason Quinn had been so melancholy, since he was sitting right there. Finn looked like he was trying to ignore the conversation and down a beer in less than two minutes at the same time.
“Well, I don’t know what’s in the cards for them-“ Artie said, eyebrows lifting in the two girls’ direction. “But I sure know what’s in these cards.” He fanned his against the table and smirked. “Read ‘em and weep.”
“Aw, bro.” Puck groaned, tossing his to the table. The table echoed the sentiment as Artie reached out to drag the load into his arms. The cards were tossed back to the center of the table and they spun against each other. Puck swept them together, the cigar still hanging from his mouth. “Strip poker, anyone?” He was leering.
“Let’s play quarters.” Mike suggested.
“I Never.” Kurt threw in.
“Captain Dickhead.”, was Artie’s addition.
“I think I’ve got just the game.” Puck set the neatly stacked cards back on the table. “Everyone go grab a couple drinks, meet back here in five, and prepare to get hammered.”
Santana looked over at Brittany and wondered if her own eyes were as shiny with excitement as the blonde’s were.
-
The sun had set on the excesses of alcohol and thudding beats of their party. People were still trickling in- a case of beer and a football player here, a handle of whiskey and one of Puck’s coworkers there. Most of the Glee Club was circled around the fire, where they’d drunkenly interrupted whatever breakthrough Quinn and Rachel had seemed to be having. Santana was leaning against Puck’s dilapidated back fence, the fire hot on her legs, Brittany to one side and the bottle of tequila to another.
Santana knocked her knee against Brittany’s and tilted her head to see the other girl’s face.
“You’re drunk.” Brittany said, but her cheeks were also warm with alcohol. Santana smiled wide.
“You’re drunk.” She returned. Brittany’s hand covered hers on the ground and her gaze grew serious and- nervous, maybe. Santana’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly, her heart stuttering. She could feel the emotion sharp on her face and she looked away.
Artie was quietly singing one of their old assignments and Finn was tapping out a messy beat on his empty beer bottle. Santana’s could feel Brittany’s fingers tangling hers like a question, and the slow burn they sharpened in her nerves. The uncomfortable want was spreading all the way down her stomach and up into her neck, hitting nerves and neurons and all the right spots.
Santana stared through the flickering flames and caught Sam’s gaze across the pit. He was always adorable when he was drunk, his ears bright red, his hair messy and fluffed around his eyes. They stared at each other for a moment and Santana felt Brittany’s hand on hers like a brand, warm and suddenly smothering.
She was pulling away before her brain even registered the impulse.
She crossed her arms, breaking Sam’s gaze, and tried to ignore the way Brittany’s looked over at her. There
was surprise written in her eyes and Santana stared down at the ground, her hand reaching for the tequila.
“Leave some for me.” Brittany murmured, sounding a little concerned at the way Santana was swallowing it down. Santana handed the bottle over and caught Brittany’s eyes almost reluctantly.
“You know, I think I’m gonna go to the bathroom. I’ll come find you in a minute.” Santana stood, unsteadily, some half-sober part of her remembering to pull her dress down, and pushed her fingers through her mussed hair.
“Wait, I’ll come with you.” Brittany was starting to stand up, but Santana put a hand on her shoulder.
“No, its fine, I’ll be back in a minute.”
She just needed air, she reasoned, and a little space to rid herself of this slow, soft wanting that was hot in her stomach and warm around her nerves.
-
A minute turned into half an hour and a drunken conversation with Blaine, who cornered her near the front door to talk about the last Bulls game. She hadn’t forgotten about Brittany by a long shot, but it felt nice to be distracted and feel someone’s hand on her arm without wanting to kiss them.
And that- where the hell was that coming from?
At some point she watched- well, really, stared - as Rachel and Quinn disappeared down a hallway, their arms brushing. Blaine was going on and on and Santana was answering on autopilot, her brain not really following what her mouth was saying. Maybe she’d had too much tequila, too fast, because she just really wanted to sit down and close her eyes. She told Blaine as much and together they found an empty space on the living room couch.
It was loud and the room was filled with sweaty teenagers grinding against each other but it was nothing new and Santana was kind of glad, because it was keeping her awake.
At some point, Blaine left. The fog around her head was starting to clear and she took the water someone pressed into her hand. When she turned to see who had taken the seat next to her, her eyes widened comically. Sam looked concerned and cute and totally kissable in the moment. Santana found herself leaning forward before her body rejected autopilot and she dipped her mouth to the cup instead.
“Thank you.” She said, once she’d managed to drink a few sips without spilling it on herself.
“You looked like you needed it.”
He gave her another probing look and then a friendly pat on the knee, before disappearing into the swell. Santana wondered where Quinn was, then remembered Rachel, then made a face she could tell was hilarious, because it twisted oddly in her skin and made her laugh to herself. Eventually, the room slowed down to a reasonable speed and she took in the events going on around her. Lauren was holding court in Puck’s armchair, her wrestling buddies guffawing loudly around her. Mike was mostly holding Tina up while they swayed near the speakers. Mercedes and Kurt had their heads pressed together and their backs against the wall, taking short breaks from gossiping to sip from their matching cups.
The couch bounced with the arrival of someone else and Santana didn’t have to look over to recognize the strong arm that wrapped around her shoulders. She’s felt the same grasp since 7th grade and she’d been there, done that. Puck pulled her closer, though, and she didn’t resist.
“Partying hard?” He called out over the music. She nodded, taking another sip of her water.
“Another epic rager.” She said dryly. She watched her friends bounce to the music, the crowd parting with the movement, someone bumping into her legs every once and again. The crowd shifted again and she had to blink twice before her mind would even process what her eyes were seeing.
“Well, shit.” Puck was chuckling. Santana shrugged his arm off and leaned forward. There was something warm in her eyes and she blinked again. “Your new cheerleader sure moves fast.” Puck’s arm fell behind her and Santana stood up, before realizing she had nothing to do. There was nothing to do.
Brittany was sitting on Artie in his wheelchair, her hair a glorious blonde swirl around her figure, hips rolling, legs flexing. Artie looked like he was experiencing the second coming and Santana was filled with something so poisonous it sparked in her eyes. She turned away suddenly and stumbled out of the room, hip banging into the door frame, water spilling to the ground. She was going for something, but she wasn’t sure what until her eyes landed on the well used tequila bottle on the kitchen counter. She had it open and lifted to her lips before Puck caught up to her and pulled it down. She swallowed against the burn of the mouthful she had managed to steal.
“Whoa, Lopez, I think you need a breather.” She glared angrily at him for a half-second and then laid one hand on his chest and pulled him closer. His eyes were suddenly centimeters from hers and they blurred drunkenly, his lashes so long. She tried to remember what it was like to kiss him, rough or soft or something she even wanted to do.
A flash of blonde hair in the door had her stumbling away.
“Hey, I saw you run in-" Brittany stopped when she saw the two of them, Puck’s shirt crumpled with the force of Santana’s fist. “Oh, sorry.” But she didn’t look sorry. Santana’s held her gaze for one long moment and then turned away. Her anger made her sloppy but focused, the back door swinging open before her.
In the far corner, the fire was nothing but embers, red and warm in the evening heat. Her heels were finding holes in the ground that hadn’t been there earlier. Brittany’s hand found a spot in the crook of her elbow, helping her, and Santana didn’t even want to brush her away. She wanted to want to push her away.
“What’s wrong?” Brittany’s voice was soft and sharp, and she pulled Santana to a stop. “Hey.” She said. Her face was swimming in Santana’s gaze and Santana felt this quick, awful twist in the pit of her stomach that sent shivers straight to her toes.
“Nothing.” She said hoarsely.
“But you’re crying.” Brittany looked absolutely miserable. Santana put a hand to her face and found that she was right.
“I’m just…drunk.” Santana had to move away or she was going to hurtle straight into Brittany’s arms and never let go. Stupid, melancholy drunk. She walked toward the fence. Outside, the Lima sky went on forever, like it always did, but the stars were swaying in their spots and Santana had to put a hand on the wood to steady herself. She could feel Brittany standing behind her.
She took one shaky, watery deep breath and shut her eyes. She’d stopped crying.
“When did you meet Artie?” She asked. She could tell she was being entirely see-through.
“Tonight. He can really sing.” Santana could hear the smile in Brittany’s voice. “And he danced with me when I couldn’t find you. Where did you go?” Brittany set her hand lightly on Santana’s shoulder.
“I- Blaine kept- and then Sam… Sorry.” Santana turned back and her eyes settled on Brittany’s.
“It’s okay. I found you.” Brittany said sweetly. She took a step forward and Santana, her back against the fence, had nowhere to run. “If I knew you were going to run and hide, I would have kept better track of you.” Brittany murmured, then leaned forward and pulled Santana into a warm embrace. She was tall enough in low heels that Santana’s chin fell softly against her shoulder. Santana slid her arms around Brittany’s sides and they stood there, quietly. The crickets hummed in the background, the music thudded loudly, and Santana’s heart thumped, her senses suddenly clear. Brittany was warm ad soft and strong in her arms and Santana’s whole body was alight with energy, spilling through her fingertips and pooling in her belly. She squeezed Brittany tighter. It was hug, but it was something more than that, too.
When they finally pulled apart, Santana’s tears had dried and she blinked up at Brittany, who gazed down warmly, like always. They let go of each other.
“Will you dance with me?” Brittany asked, holding one hand out, pinky lifted. Santana smiled without really meaning to and caught Brittany’s pinky with her own.
“Duh.”
-
Brittany and Santana were sharing an armchair and a glass of plain orange juice in the corner of Puck’s living room. The party was slowly dying out as the clock rounded two. Blaine and Kurt were tangled up on the couch next to them, Blaine blinking sleepily and throwing in the random comment while Kurt speculated on the Rachel and Quinn events of the evening. Santana rolled her eyes at a particularly ridiculous statement and let her hand find the small of Brittany’s back. Almost instantly, Brittany leaned into her touch.
Santana was mostly sober and a lot tired, a headache threatening, but Brittany was soft and her laugh was gentle. Santana was willing to suffer a lot of things to keep holding onto this moment.
That was why, of course, Quinn chose that exact second to stride into the room, her hair down and mussed, her eyes a little glazed and desperate. She went straight for Santana.
“Let’s go.”
Santana blinked, then set her orange juice on the table and exchanged glances with Brittany. With a nod toward Kurt and Blaine, who were watching with wide, alert eyes, she grabbed her purse and Brittany and they followed Quinn through the kitchen and out the back door. They picked across the patio, and slipped out. Santana opened her mouth to ask, but Quinn must have seen it coming.
“Give me your keys. And I’ll tell you later.” She turned, her eyes telling her not to ask, not to question.
“Do I need to kick someone’s ass?” Santana asked plainly, handing over her keys. Quinn shook her head mutely. They piled into Santana’s car; Brittany curled up in the backseat and Santana sent curious glances at Quinn from the passenger seat. The ride back was too quiet, save the dinging of Quinn’s phone as she furiously texted someone. Santana stared out the window, and then, when she realized she could see Brittany in the side mirror, at Brittany’s eyes, at her mouth.
Santana’s house wasn’t far away and Quinn pulled into her garage with practiced ease. Santana was leading the way inside when she noticed Quinn heading out the garage.
“Aren’t you staying?” She asked and Quinn shook her head.
“I’m getting picked up.” The girl hesitated, like she wanted to say more but couldn’t find it in herself to do so. Santana leveled her with a look, kind and questioning and accepting in a way only drunken Santana ever was.
“Call me in the morning.” She commanded. Quinn nodded once and disappeared into the front yard.
Santana’s house was dark and empty, and she made Brittany slip off her shoes before she came inside. They crept up the stairs to Santana’s room and she flicked on her desk light, the light shining intimately through the room. She was suddenly exhausted from whatever the night had been and she tugged off her heels, tossing them in the corner. Digging out a couple pairs of sleep shorts and t-shirts, she tossed a pair to Brittany and slid the shorts on under her dress. She was struggling to get out of it when she felt warm, almost familiar hands brush softly against her waist. They slid up her arms and eased the material over her head and down onto the floor. Santana stood before Brittany, suddenly bare, and felt no shame in it.
Brittany smiled sweetly, and turned back to her clothes.
Dressed, teeth brushed, and face washed, they crawled into Santana’s bed, both still a little tipsy. The light was flicked off and darkness settled. Santana stared across the foot between them on her bed. Brittany’s face was a shadowy silhouette in the dark.
“I had fun tonight.” Brittany’s voice was louder than a whisper. Just quiet enough to fit the space. Intimate.
“I’m glad you came.” Santana blinked, her eyes getting heavier.
“I’m glad I met you.” Brittany murmured, as Santana was falling asleep.
She might have smiled stupidly before dreams overtook.
-
The morning dawned late. The alarm went off, was promptly silenced, and a blonde head and a brunette head buried back into the pillows, shifting under the sheets. It was nearing noon when Santana finally stretched out of sleep, her toes pushing the blanket away, fingers brushing her headboard.
She pushed up on her elbows and surveyed the strewn clothes on her floor, the blonde girl in her bed, and the
shades drawn tight. Her phone was blinking insistently from the desk. She reached over and pushed Brittany, who muttered something incomprehensible and rolled further away. Santana smiled, despite herself, and poked the girl again.
“Britts, wake up.” Two blue eyes blinked back at her, followed by a warm smile that crept up into them.
“Good morning.” Brittany murmured, before burying herself back under the pillows. Santana laughed. She was somehow hangover free and thoroughly rested. Last night’s events were a little vague and hazy, but it seemed
to have gone down okay.
“Come on, get up. I’ll make you pancakes.” Santana rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom. She took her time brushing her teeth and working a comb through her unruly hair. When she finally walked back into the bedroom, she stopped short. Brittany was stretching languidly on her bed, arms raised high above her, legs endless in the Santana’s tiny shorts.
Santana was entirely unaware of the need glazed across her eyes, but she did know Brittany was now regarding her with a soft look, her mouth almost curling into a smile.
“I think I heard something about pancakes.” Brittany said seriously. Santana nodded, unable to do anything else.
“Pancakes.” She managed finally, and tore her eyes away. “A Lopez family tradition. Come on.” She hurried to the bedroom door. This fleeing was becoming a regular occurrence, but then Santana had always been reluctant to devote any sort of courage to anyone.
They padded down the stairs, Brittany rubbing at sleepy eyes, Santana holding a hand against her rumbling stomach. They were halfway down when Mrs. Lopez swept into view, clearly headed out somewhere.
“Well, hello girls.” The woman smiled and it had that same Lopez sharpness to it, with a tinge of easily missed warmth. She was a blur of movement, shouldering her purse and swinging her keys. “I’m headed out to the store. Your father’s been called into work. There’s pancake mix and the fridge and Armando would like you to takehimtothepetstore.” She shot the last bit out quickly with an apologetic grimace and a blown kiss, and disappeared out the door, leaving Santana rolling her eyes. That meant Armando was going to be a royal brat until he was taken to the pet store, and her Mom had left her with the task of putting up with him.
“Sannn!” Armando came barreling through the doorway to the den and launched himself at Santana’s knees, wrapping his small arms around her legs. He had spiky brown bedhead that stood up in all directions, and light blue dinosaur pajamas on. He looked up at her with wide brown eyes that aimed for innocent but were betrayed by a twinkling glint. Brittany was instantly charmed. “Will you take me to the pet store?” Santana rolled her eyes again.
“We’ll see.” She said, and Armando let go of her and sat back with a huff. Then, he caught sight of Brittany and his whole demeanor changed. He scooted behind Santana and stared up with something like awe in his eyes.
He tugged once on Santana’s shirt, unable to tear his eyes away.
“Who’s that?” He asked.
“This is Brittany.” Santana turned to the girl, unaware that her eyes held the same gentle awe that Armando’s did. Brittany smiled down at the little boy.
“Hey.” Brittany sat down on the floor next to Armando and held out her hand. “Nice to meet you.” Armando only
buried his face behind Santana’s knees, his cheeks turning a bright shade of red.
“Say hello, Armando.” Santana looked down at her little brother, who was practically drowning in his sudden embarrassment.
“Hello.” He said finally, his voice very quiet. Santana reached down and pried his hands from her knees, then pulled him up by the hand.
“Come on, quiet being shy. Let’s make some pancakes.” He practically shot off in the direction of the kitchen, pulling Santana along behind him. She turned back and took Brittany’s hand, gave her a warm smile, and tugged her up and then down the hall as well.
-
The pet store was Armando’s idea of heaven on Earth. He was straining against Santana’s hand the moment they walked inside and she sent Brittany an exasperated look before letting him pull her toward the bunny rabbits. She let him press his nose to glass to watch the fish dart back and forth, and they finally ended up at the bird section. One of the employees squatted down beside him, thankfully distracting the little guy with a tiny yellow bird. Santana took a second to breathe.
“He really loves the pet store.” Brittany mused, leaning next to Santana against the wall. Their hands brushed. “I love the pet store, too. But I think the ferrets are plotting an escape.” She nodded toward the ferret cage, where two of them were perched on top of a castle of some sort. Santana laughed.
“Good for them.” They were quiet for a moment. Santana spoke without turning her head. “Thanks for coming with us.”
“Are you kidding? Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Brittany was sincere. Santana glanced down to see the girl offering her pinkie, and took it without a second thought. They smiled stupidly at each other for a second, and then Santana felt a tickle against her elbow. She looked down to see Armando holding a rat near her arm and promptly hopped a foot in the air, making a horrid face. To her credit, she didn’t scream, but Brittany and Armando burst out laughing anyway.
“You should have seen your face.” Brittany said, trying to calm down. She wiped a finger underneath her eyes and then caught Santana’s eye and started laughing again. Armando offered Brittany the rat and she scooped it into her hands.
“It’s a rat!” Santana said, censoring her more colorful comments.
“It’s just a baby.” Brittany was cooing at the thing and Armando ran a careful finger down the length of its tail. Santana sent the two of them a concerned look.
“You two are crazy. I’m going to go over here, where hopefully no one as crazy as you will be.” She walked away- well, kind of ran, really- and spent the next half an hour dodging Brittany’s attempts to hand her a mouse.
-
They dropped Armando back off at Santana’s house with her mom and, after Brittany had mussed Armando’s hair affectionately and turned his face beet red, they hopped back in the car. Santana, who usually couldn’t stand to be around one person for more than two hours, was annoyed at having to cut their afternoon short. Brittany had dance class, though, and Santana had homework and so she found herself navigating through Sam’s neighborhood at a snail’s pace.
Brittany was laughing as Santana recounted a Kurt story from the night before when they pulled into her driveway. Santana was blushing with happiness and the feeling in her chest was something so surreal and unfamiliar that she was desperate to keep it going.
“I had fun today.” Brittany told her, seeming just as unwilling to leave the car.
“I think Armando might be a little in love with you.” Santana teased. She shifted into park and sat back in her seat, giving in to the need to just stare at Brittany’s face. Brittany laughed.
“Maybe I’ll ask him out, then.” She replied easily. Santana rolled her eyes. “What? Then we could be sister-in-laws.”
“First of all, that’s totally illegal. Second of all, I don’t want you marrying my brother.” Santana made a face and laughed.
“Why not?” Brittany asked. Her tone was a little too serious and Santana met her gaze with apprehension. She frowned and started to backpedal.
“I mean, I guess…” Her words trailed off, though, and she found herself staring right back at Brittany, the tension between them melting into an unavoidable tug and flow. Her eyes betrayed her for a millisecond, dropping to Brittany’s lips and then shooting her gaze out the window. Her cheeks warmed, but she couldn’t keep herself from meeting Brittany’s gaze again.
She seemed closer than she had been a second ago and then Santana realized she was moving across the console, one hand braced on the seat, one lifting to settle on Santana’s knee. The thrill that spiked straight down her spine and burned hot in her gut was electrifying. Brittany’s hand was like a brand on her skin.
Santana breaths came quiet and shallow.
Brittany moved another inch closer, her breath puffing against Santana’s cheek, suddenly too close to be mistaken.
“Santana.” She breathed, like a question, and a solid, pure sense of absolute settled in Santana’s chest at the sound of her name, so familiar and so new. Her eyes fluttered shut with the heaviness of reality, but she didn’t need sight to find Brittany’s mouth with her own, crossing the centimeters to press a kiss into her lips. An unbearable warmth and joy ached in her body and the only relief was kissing Brittany again and just when Santana thought she couldn’t bear to feel anything else, Brittany was kissing her back.
She felt a hand soft against her neck, fingers tickling slightly at the hair on the back of her neck, their mouths hot and soft. Then, Brittany’s tongue moved to wet her lips and Santana’s breath left her in a pure, soft gasp. The bolt of need that ravaged her body shook her up and she pulled back, struggling to open her eyes.
Brittany’s mouth was bright pink and her cheeks were rosy and those blue eyes, god, shone warm and bright in the afternoon light.
Santana couldn’t catch her breath and she couldn’t keep from leaning back in.
fandom: glee
pairing: santana lopez/brittany pierce
rating: T
summary: She was tall, lean, and blonde and Santana barely caught a glimpse of her as she bounced down the steps, but it was enough. AU.
A/N: Sorry for the awfully long wait, there was vacation and now school and I suck. This chapter is almost ridiculously long to make up for it, though!
like the stars above.
Her fingers were unforgiving on her skin. They pulled tight on her eyes, hard against her eyebrows, smoothed against her cheeks, and dipped around the edges of her jaw. They smeared gloss on her lips and pushed a sliver of hair back into her sleek ponytail. They were also precise, though, and the lines of eyeliner above her eyes were straight and even. Her mascara was smooth, her blush blended.
Santana took a step back from the mirror and surveyed the results. Her skin was flawless, her eyes defined. Her mouth looked soft and pink. Her hair swung in a light curl, pulled up close in a ponytail, per Coach Sylvester’s orders. Her Cheerios uniform contrasted warmly with her dark skin.
She smiled a tiny smile. It curved the edges of her mouth and sparkled in her eyes. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt that little curl in her stomach when she got dressed in the morning.
Strangely, that morning was the first morning in three months she hadn’t received a text from Sam to wake her up. She had waited without really waiting, her eyes set on her phone. She knew it wasn’t coming. And somehow, that wasn’t the big disappointment she had been expecting.
No, the feeling in her chest oddly resembled relief.
She smoothed the pleats of her skirt and shut off the lights to the bathroom, catching one last glimpse of her hopeful eyes in the mirror.
-
The morning was soft with spring. A pleasant breeze teased at Santana’s ponytail as she walked through the front doors to McKinley. She reveled, maybe, just a little bit, in the way a path parted for her to walk through untouched and uninterrupted. Sometimes, she could see why Quinn got off on this.
Her eyes fell on a familiar uniform on a tall, pretty blonde girl who was walking like she’d rather be dancing. Santana’s stomach did a happy swirl and she sped up a little, making her strides long to match Brittany’s. She reached and her hand wrapped around Brittany’s arm, pulling the girl to a stop. Brittany spun, ever graceful, and the uneasy look in her eyes faded instantly when she recognized Santana.
“Hey!” Her smile was bright and warm everything Santana was starting to realize Brittany was.
“Hi.” Santana pulled Brittany out of the middle of the hallway, leading them toward a row of lockers. “Good morning.” Her smile was teasing and well perfected, almost instinctive, though she couldn’t recall using it on a girl before. Brittany blushed anyway, her eyes lighting up.
“Morning.” She was openly staring down at Santana, her hands clasped cutely in front of her. “What’s up?” They looked way too good in their matching Cheerio uniforms and Santana, brave in her newfound freedom, reached out to trace her fingertips against the seams of Brittany’s top.
“What are you doing tonight?” Santana asked. She looked up at Brittany as if the fingers of one hand weren’t currently dipping into the space between her top and skirt. Brittany shrugged.
“Painting my laptop lime green.” Santana squinted at her.
“Do you think you could reschedule?”
“For you? Of course.” Brittany tilted her head down and watched Santana’s hand as it came to a rest on her hip, high enough to be respectable but low enough that it counted. Santana smirked- like, actually leaned into a locker and titled her head and let her lips curve into something dangerous. She pulled her hand back and crossed her arms in an effort to keep her hands to herself.
“Good, because Puckerman’s having a party tonight and it’s pretty much mandatory for Cheerios.” Santana was still staring into Brittany’s eyes like she couldn’t possible look anywhere else, when their little world was suddenly rocked off its axis.
“You must be Brittany.”
Their eyes flickered away simultaneously.
Santana had known Quinn Fabray since they were small enough to tumble down plastic slides. She knew almost every one of her moods and the majority of her flaws. She had seen Quinn jealous more times than she could count, but she didn’t think she had ever seen Quinn actually jealous over her.
Brittany, always friendly first, took in Quinn’s matching Cheerio uniform and smiled, but by the time she’d opened her mouth, it was too late.
“I’m Quinn Fabray, your Cheerio captain, although you’ll be more than aware of that by the end of practice this afternoon.” Santana’s eyebrows rose. Brittany, to her credit, didn’t let her eyes drop from Quinn’s, but her fingers fluttered toward Santana’s. Santana let them brush comfortingly.
“Oh. Well, I’ll be there.” Brittany promised, her smile glazing right over Quinn’s threatening stance. Santana wondered if Quinn could see the hesitation clear in Brittany’s eyes as well as she could. But Quinn only regarded Brittany curiously for a moment, before training her gaze on Santana.
“I need you at practice fifteen minutes early. You owe Coach two miles.” Before Santana could respond to that passive aggressive statement, Quinn spun on her heel. Her Cheerios skirt swirled dramatically and she stalked down the hall. Santana turned to Brittany.
“She’s scary.” Brittany intoned. Her eyes were trained on Quinn’s departing figure. Santana nodded absently, her arms crossed, her gaze narrowed.
“Something must have crawled up her ass and died.“ Santana pushed off the locker and looped her pinky with Brittany’s, asking more than pulling her away. “Hopefully she’ll chill out by tonight.”
“Oh, but party!” Brittany said happily. “Can I dance?”
-
“You’re a bitch.” Santana huffed out as she dropped rather ungracefully into her desk. Her ponytail was sticking sweaty to the back of her neck and she whipped it away, some small part of her pleased when Rachel cringed in her seat. She set her gaze on Quinn, who was studiously staring at the whiteboard. “Hello? Virgin Mary, I’m talking to you.”
Quinn’s head turned toward Santana very slowly, as if her whole body was protesting it. Her gaze was cool.
Santana was unimpressed.
“What are you talking about?” Santana bristled, her gaze narrowing.
“I’m talking about the six laps I just ran after practice.”
“I told you. Coach said you owed her.”
“Fuck that noise. Coach hasn’t made me run extras since freshmen year. Something’s stuck up your ass and for some stupid fucking reason you’ve decided to take it out on me.” Quinn rolled her eyes and turned her eyes back to the front of the classroom.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” Quinn said calmly.
“I think you’re forgetting that I’ve known you since forever and I can see directly through your shit. I don’t know why you’re getting all green over some new-” Quinn’s head swiveled back in her direction, her eyes blazing.
“Don’t you ever know when to shut up?” The words flew past Rachel, who was attempting to be as small as possible between the two girls. Santana took her advice, biting down on the phrases that threatened to fly off her tongue. She was aware that the frustration boiling in her stomach wasn’t entirely Quinn’s fault.
“Look, Quinn, I’m not going to ditch you for-“
“It’s not even about that.” Quinn hissed. Her eyes betrayed her for a moment, shifting forward to look for any prying ears.
“Then please, Fabray, fucking enlighten me.” Santana dropped back in her seat, eyebrows raised expectantly. Quinn regarded her passively for a moment, and then shook her head.
“Later, okay?” Her eyes were hesitant and Santana could see honest anxiety shining through, so she backed off. Quinn turned back to the board. Her shoulders were tense and her head high. Santana could feel Rachel’s eyes shifting toward her and she snapped her head in the midget’s direction.
“What are you looking at, Berry?” Santana slouched down, arms tightly crossed.
Rachel blinked once, but turned her gaze back down to her notes.
-
Quinn and Santana, somewhat reconciled in the face of the glee club’s unrelenting cheeriness, held court in their regular chairs on the second row. Santana was picking disinterestedly at her nails, trying to avoid Sam’s stony gaze from across the room. She stared blandly at Mr. Shue. She was sure he was most likely talking, but his words couldn’t pass through the hazy fog she was distracted in. Her eyes flickered over to Quinn, who had that impenetrable indifference painted across her face.
Santana squinted at her for a moment, before the side door opened and Mike Change slid in, pulling Brittany along behind him.
Wait.
Santana’s hands trapped each other in her lap and her eyes caught Brittany’s, who smiled brightly at her.
“Hey, Mr. Shue.” Mike effectively interrupted the rather dreary speech Mr. Shuester had been droning through. “This is Brittany. She’d like to join glee club.” Mr. Shue’s face grew into a grin and he practically thrashed Brittany’s hand with enthusiasm.
“Well, Brittany we are so thrilled to have you. Just take a seat anywhere, I was about to give everyone their assign-“
“Excuse me, Mr. Shuester, but shouldn’t she have to try out?” Rachel squeaked from the front row, practically falling out of her seat.
“Shut up, Berry, she doesn’t need to audition.” Brittany was already halfway to Santana, but paused mid-step, seeming hesitant.
“No, I- I will if you want.” She shrugged. “Do have any, like, Beyonce?” Mr. Shue hesitated for a moment- Santana could practically hear him trying to reconcile Beyonce with the catalogue of classic rock she was sure filled that curly head.
“Here-” Mercedes held out her iPod, the Beyonce page already up. “Take your pick.” A minute later the iPod was jacked into the dock and Brittany was letting her hair down from the strict Cheerios ponytail, tangling her fingers through it, and rolling her shoulders. Brittany caught Santana’s eye briefly and heat rose up on Santana’s cheeks, a blush that she hoped no one else would notice.
Then the music kicked in and she stopped breathing, letting everything else go in favor of watching Brittany dance. It wasn’t pure and liquid like it had been that first night, and thank god it wasn’t slow and dirty like she had been in the studio. It wasn’t even cut and professional like their Cheerios routine. It was something else entirely, a free dance that radiated confidence and talent. She’d chosen Diva and it was quick and strong and Brittany snapped and popped to it, a teasing smile flirting with the edges of her mouth, an edge in her eyes.
Halfway through, she crooked one finger towards Mike and he practically levitated out of his seat to join her on the floor. They moved in unison, reading each other in an entirely natural way that seemed peculiar to dancers. The song cut to a stop and they held their position, staring each other down until Brittany started laughing and the room exploded into applause. Finn appeared to have trouble staying his seat and Mr. Shue’s mouth hung wide open, to Santana’s amusement.
When Brittany hopped up the steps and flung herself in Santana’s arms- well, that didn’t exactly damper her mood, either.
-
The air was still warm with the heat of the day when Santana slid into her convertible. She tossed her bag into the passenger seat and shifted into reverse with practiced ease. Strong fingers gripped the steering wheel and the car curved hard out of the garage. The houses flew past rapidly, green blurring into nothing.
She fidgeted with the radio, switching from R&B and back to top 40. She finally settled on a slow jam and let the music lay a soft beat to the background. Her windows were down, the wind dancing with her lightly curled hair. Her dress was skintight and her heels were high, but it was the sparkle in her eyes that was going to make her the life of the party tonight.
She pulled into Brittany’s driveway slow and smooth, the gravel shifting under her wheels. Her heels crunched in the rock, but her footing was solid. The sun had just set in the sky and the neighborhood was quiet and warm gray, the greens of the trees bright and harsh. The lights in the Pierces’ windows shone warm yellow.
She knocked twice on the door and waited for the pattering footsteps of Brittany’s little sister.
“Who is it?” Sang out from behind the wood. Santana fought a smile.
“It’s Santana.” The door swung open and Santana looked down at Annie, who had the remains of chocolate cake smeared on her cheeks.
“Sannn!” She was all of four and adorable and she threw herself at Santana, who lifted her up in an attempt to keep the chocolate off her dress.
“Where’s Britt?” Annie tilted her head toward the stairs as Santana walked inside, hip-checking the door shut behind her.
“Alright, kiddo, I don’t think I can handle the stairs with you and these heels.” Santana bent down and set Annie back on the ground. When she turned her eyes back to the stairs, Brittany was at the top, her blonde hair long and straight, her shorts tiny and ruffled.
“Hey!” She grinned a little shyly and started down the stairs.
“Hi.” Santana said, swallowing once and glancing back down at Annie in an effort to look casual. Brittany took the last few steps with her hands braced on the banister and the wall, and fell into Santana’s arms, almost sending them both to the ground.
Santana’s stomach roiled with a mixture of emotions.
When Brittany pulled away, she left her face far too close to Santana’s. Her hands rested, friendly, on Santana’s sides.
“You look great. Are you ready?”
“Whenever you are.”
Brittany leaned down and kissed Annie once on the top of her head, then called out to her parents. “I’m gone!” They stepped out into the warm night air, Brittany’s hand finding a spot in the crook of Santana’s arm. Santana swung the car door open for her, a grand gesture of chivalry, and Brittany laughed as she dipped inside. Santana failed miserably to hide her smile as she circled the car to the driver’s side.
The door shut softly. The car was quiet, shielding them from the rest of the world, and Santana turned to Brittany before she started the engine.
“I hope you brought the supplies.”
Brittany’s smile was dangerous. She hefted a bottle of cheap tequila out of her bag and held it aloft.
The night air practically sang with its possibilities.
-
Puck seemed intent on taking advantage of the sweet spring weather. Santana could hear booming music when she rolled up in front of his house. Slipping out the door and locking it twice, she and Brittany followed the beat down the driveway and around the corner. Santana felt back and hooked her pinky into Brittany’s without thinking about it, subtly leading her through the rusted gate and into the fray. Puck’s iPod was thumping dutifully from a table near the back door and most of the party was grouped around a patio table, where Puckerman himself was orchestrating a game of poker. Others stood on the pebbly cement, beer cans sweating in their hands, sun glasses on against the warmly setting sun.
Most of the Glee Club was mesmerized by the poker game. Tina was settled comfortably on Mike’s lap, squinting at his array of cards. Finn looked more than confused about the entire game and he kept leaning over to mutter questions at Sam. Santana ran a fond hand over Puck’s Mohawk and he grinned at her from behind a thick cigar, his aviators reflecting the pit fire that was flickering in a corner of his barren back yard.
Santana glanced over, mostly to make sure it wasn’t going to start a forest fire Lima would never forget, and stumbled when she saw who was gathered around the flames. Brittany, always graceful, stopped on a dime behind Santana, her hands falling on Santana’s hips.
Quinn and Rachel sat on almost opposite sides of the flames, each claiming a blanket on the dead grass. They were talking quietly to each other, Quinn’s eyes focused on the fire, Rachel digging in the dirt next to her.
Santana stared.
“It’s not so big. I think they’ll be okay.” Brittany murmured in her ear, hands still soft on her waist. Santana blinked twice.
“What?”
“The fire. I’m sure they’re fine.” Santana turned in Brittany’s grasp, already shaking her head. She was relieved Quinn hadn’t seen her staring. Maybe this was good, but maybe this was really, really bad.
“Oh, no, I just- well Quinn-.” Santana quit, unsure of how to explain the two girls’ relationship to Brittany. Now that she thought about it, actually, their entire relationship was fucking weird. She snuck another glance at the two. Quinn just kept staring at the fire, nodding along to whatever Rachel was saying.
Santana made a face.
“I need a drink.” She broke away from Brittany’s hands gently and led the way across the patio and though the back door, into Puck’s neat but worn kitchen. Two steps in and she set her purse on the counter, already digging for the tequila, heavy at the bottom. She set it on the counter with a thunk and pulled open the fridge to dig out the orange juice and Sprite.
When she turned back, Brittany was measuring alcohol into two Solo cups. Santana smirked. She knew there was a good reason she and Brittany made great friends. She slid the orange juice down the counter and Brittany caught it without looking up. Santana popped the tab on the Sprite can and moved in next to the girl, their hips touching lightly. They worked quickly, mixing their drinks to whatever ratio they liked better, and Santana gave hers a quick swirl before offering a toast.
She lifted the cup and her eyes glinted.
“To tonight.” She said. Their hips were still too close and Brittany smiled, surprising Santana again with her easy, open eyes, with the humor dancing in them.
“To tonight.” Brittany murmured, tapping her cup against Santana’s. They locked eyes and took the first sip. The alcohol was sharp in Santana’s nose- she always did mix her drinks too strong- and Brittany’s perfume was just as intoxicating when she leaned forward and pressed a neat, soft kiss against Brittany’s cheek.
“Let’s go take some asshole’s money.” Santana said, and grabbed her bag and spun out of the kitchen before Brittany could react.
If had she stayed, though, she might have seen the rosy blush that bloomed right where her lips had met skin.
The poker game was still going strong. Surprisingly, Kurt seemed to have the upper hand, judging from the amount of pennies stacked before him. Santana drug a low bench over to the side of the table and squeezed in between Mike and Mercedes. Brittany pressed in close, leaning a shoulder against Mike’s chair.
“Sorry, ladies but you’re going to have to wait for the next round.” Puck said, his aviators still glinting in the sun. Santana rolled her eyes.
“Its fine, I’ll let you keep your money for another ten minutes.” Beside her, Mercedes rolled her eyes.
“Girl, I wish you were joking.” She said, laying her cards and sighing a heavy ‘fold’. Santana stretched her
legs out underneath the table, thigh brushing against Brittany’s. She buried her smile in a sip of her drink.
“So, anyone have a clue about what’s occurring near the fire pit, right now?” Kurt’s voice was low and he tilted his head toward Quinn and Rachel. His eyes found Santana’s across the table, but she just shrugged and shook her head, lifting her drink back to her mouth.
“They were like that when I got here.” Tina chipped in, leaning further into Mike. Puck remained silent on the subject, his focus set on the cards in his hand.
“Quinn showed up and just disappeared over there.” Sam was staring at his cards and his voice, though quiet, was easily heard by everyone at the table. “Then, Rachel walked in, saw her, and went right over. They’ve just been talking since then.” The table was silent as they all digested this. No one was willing to bring up the reason Quinn had been so melancholy, since he was sitting right there. Finn looked like he was trying to ignore the conversation and down a beer in less than two minutes at the same time.
“Well, I don’t know what’s in the cards for them-“ Artie said, eyebrows lifting in the two girls’ direction. “But I sure know what’s in these cards.” He fanned his against the table and smirked. “Read ‘em and weep.”
“Aw, bro.” Puck groaned, tossing his to the table. The table echoed the sentiment as Artie reached out to drag the load into his arms. The cards were tossed back to the center of the table and they spun against each other. Puck swept them together, the cigar still hanging from his mouth. “Strip poker, anyone?” He was leering.
“Let’s play quarters.” Mike suggested.
“I Never.” Kurt threw in.
“Captain Dickhead.”, was Artie’s addition.
“I think I’ve got just the game.” Puck set the neatly stacked cards back on the table. “Everyone go grab a couple drinks, meet back here in five, and prepare to get hammered.”
Santana looked over at Brittany and wondered if her own eyes were as shiny with excitement as the blonde’s were.
-
The sun had set on the excesses of alcohol and thudding beats of their party. People were still trickling in- a case of beer and a football player here, a handle of whiskey and one of Puck’s coworkers there. Most of the Glee Club was circled around the fire, where they’d drunkenly interrupted whatever breakthrough Quinn and Rachel had seemed to be having. Santana was leaning against Puck’s dilapidated back fence, the fire hot on her legs, Brittany to one side and the bottle of tequila to another.
Santana knocked her knee against Brittany’s and tilted her head to see the other girl’s face.
“You’re drunk.” Brittany said, but her cheeks were also warm with alcohol. Santana smiled wide.
“You’re drunk.” She returned. Brittany’s hand covered hers on the ground and her gaze grew serious and- nervous, maybe. Santana’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly, her heart stuttering. She could feel the emotion sharp on her face and she looked away.
Artie was quietly singing one of their old assignments and Finn was tapping out a messy beat on his empty beer bottle. Santana’s could feel Brittany’s fingers tangling hers like a question, and the slow burn they sharpened in her nerves. The uncomfortable want was spreading all the way down her stomach and up into her neck, hitting nerves and neurons and all the right spots.
Santana stared through the flickering flames and caught Sam’s gaze across the pit. He was always adorable when he was drunk, his ears bright red, his hair messy and fluffed around his eyes. They stared at each other for a moment and Santana felt Brittany’s hand on hers like a brand, warm and suddenly smothering.
She was pulling away before her brain even registered the impulse.
She crossed her arms, breaking Sam’s gaze, and tried to ignore the way Brittany’s looked over at her. There
was surprise written in her eyes and Santana stared down at the ground, her hand reaching for the tequila.
“Leave some for me.” Brittany murmured, sounding a little concerned at the way Santana was swallowing it down. Santana handed the bottle over and caught Brittany’s eyes almost reluctantly.
“You know, I think I’m gonna go to the bathroom. I’ll come find you in a minute.” Santana stood, unsteadily, some half-sober part of her remembering to pull her dress down, and pushed her fingers through her mussed hair.
“Wait, I’ll come with you.” Brittany was starting to stand up, but Santana put a hand on her shoulder.
“No, its fine, I’ll be back in a minute.”
She just needed air, she reasoned, and a little space to rid herself of this slow, soft wanting that was hot in her stomach and warm around her nerves.
-
A minute turned into half an hour and a drunken conversation with Blaine, who cornered her near the front door to talk about the last Bulls game. She hadn’t forgotten about Brittany by a long shot, but it felt nice to be distracted and feel someone’s hand on her arm without wanting to kiss them.
And that- where the hell was that coming from?
At some point she watched- well, really, stared - as Rachel and Quinn disappeared down a hallway, their arms brushing. Blaine was going on and on and Santana was answering on autopilot, her brain not really following what her mouth was saying. Maybe she’d had too much tequila, too fast, because she just really wanted to sit down and close her eyes. She told Blaine as much and together they found an empty space on the living room couch.
It was loud and the room was filled with sweaty teenagers grinding against each other but it was nothing new and Santana was kind of glad, because it was keeping her awake.
At some point, Blaine left. The fog around her head was starting to clear and she took the water someone pressed into her hand. When she turned to see who had taken the seat next to her, her eyes widened comically. Sam looked concerned and cute and totally kissable in the moment. Santana found herself leaning forward before her body rejected autopilot and she dipped her mouth to the cup instead.
“Thank you.” She said, once she’d managed to drink a few sips without spilling it on herself.
“You looked like you needed it.”
He gave her another probing look and then a friendly pat on the knee, before disappearing into the swell. Santana wondered where Quinn was, then remembered Rachel, then made a face she could tell was hilarious, because it twisted oddly in her skin and made her laugh to herself. Eventually, the room slowed down to a reasonable speed and she took in the events going on around her. Lauren was holding court in Puck’s armchair, her wrestling buddies guffawing loudly around her. Mike was mostly holding Tina up while they swayed near the speakers. Mercedes and Kurt had their heads pressed together and their backs against the wall, taking short breaks from gossiping to sip from their matching cups.
The couch bounced with the arrival of someone else and Santana didn’t have to look over to recognize the strong arm that wrapped around her shoulders. She’s felt the same grasp since 7th grade and she’d been there, done that. Puck pulled her closer, though, and she didn’t resist.
“Partying hard?” He called out over the music. She nodded, taking another sip of her water.
“Another epic rager.” She said dryly. She watched her friends bounce to the music, the crowd parting with the movement, someone bumping into her legs every once and again. The crowd shifted again and she had to blink twice before her mind would even process what her eyes were seeing.
“Well, shit.” Puck was chuckling. Santana shrugged his arm off and leaned forward. There was something warm in her eyes and she blinked again. “Your new cheerleader sure moves fast.” Puck’s arm fell behind her and Santana stood up, before realizing she had nothing to do. There was nothing to do.
Brittany was sitting on Artie in his wheelchair, her hair a glorious blonde swirl around her figure, hips rolling, legs flexing. Artie looked like he was experiencing the second coming and Santana was filled with something so poisonous it sparked in her eyes. She turned away suddenly and stumbled out of the room, hip banging into the door frame, water spilling to the ground. She was going for something, but she wasn’t sure what until her eyes landed on the well used tequila bottle on the kitchen counter. She had it open and lifted to her lips before Puck caught up to her and pulled it down. She swallowed against the burn of the mouthful she had managed to steal.
“Whoa, Lopez, I think you need a breather.” She glared angrily at him for a half-second and then laid one hand on his chest and pulled him closer. His eyes were suddenly centimeters from hers and they blurred drunkenly, his lashes so long. She tried to remember what it was like to kiss him, rough or soft or something she even wanted to do.
A flash of blonde hair in the door had her stumbling away.
“Hey, I saw you run in-" Brittany stopped when she saw the two of them, Puck’s shirt crumpled with the force of Santana’s fist. “Oh, sorry.” But she didn’t look sorry. Santana’s held her gaze for one long moment and then turned away. Her anger made her sloppy but focused, the back door swinging open before her.
In the far corner, the fire was nothing but embers, red and warm in the evening heat. Her heels were finding holes in the ground that hadn’t been there earlier. Brittany’s hand found a spot in the crook of her elbow, helping her, and Santana didn’t even want to brush her away. She wanted to want to push her away.
“What’s wrong?” Brittany’s voice was soft and sharp, and she pulled Santana to a stop. “Hey.” She said. Her face was swimming in Santana’s gaze and Santana felt this quick, awful twist in the pit of her stomach that sent shivers straight to her toes.
“Nothing.” She said hoarsely.
“But you’re crying.” Brittany looked absolutely miserable. Santana put a hand to her face and found that she was right.
“I’m just…drunk.” Santana had to move away or she was going to hurtle straight into Brittany’s arms and never let go. Stupid, melancholy drunk. She walked toward the fence. Outside, the Lima sky went on forever, like it always did, but the stars were swaying in their spots and Santana had to put a hand on the wood to steady herself. She could feel Brittany standing behind her.
She took one shaky, watery deep breath and shut her eyes. She’d stopped crying.
“When did you meet Artie?” She asked. She could tell she was being entirely see-through.
“Tonight. He can really sing.” Santana could hear the smile in Brittany’s voice. “And he danced with me when I couldn’t find you. Where did you go?” Brittany set her hand lightly on Santana’s shoulder.
“I- Blaine kept- and then Sam… Sorry.” Santana turned back and her eyes settled on Brittany’s.
“It’s okay. I found you.” Brittany said sweetly. She took a step forward and Santana, her back against the fence, had nowhere to run. “If I knew you were going to run and hide, I would have kept better track of you.” Brittany murmured, then leaned forward and pulled Santana into a warm embrace. She was tall enough in low heels that Santana’s chin fell softly against her shoulder. Santana slid her arms around Brittany’s sides and they stood there, quietly. The crickets hummed in the background, the music thudded loudly, and Santana’s heart thumped, her senses suddenly clear. Brittany was warm ad soft and strong in her arms and Santana’s whole body was alight with energy, spilling through her fingertips and pooling in her belly. She squeezed Brittany tighter. It was hug, but it was something more than that, too.
When they finally pulled apart, Santana’s tears had dried and she blinked up at Brittany, who gazed down warmly, like always. They let go of each other.
“Will you dance with me?” Brittany asked, holding one hand out, pinky lifted. Santana smiled without really meaning to and caught Brittany’s pinky with her own.
“Duh.”
-
Brittany and Santana were sharing an armchair and a glass of plain orange juice in the corner of Puck’s living room. The party was slowly dying out as the clock rounded two. Blaine and Kurt were tangled up on the couch next to them, Blaine blinking sleepily and throwing in the random comment while Kurt speculated on the Rachel and Quinn events of the evening. Santana rolled her eyes at a particularly ridiculous statement and let her hand find the small of Brittany’s back. Almost instantly, Brittany leaned into her touch.
Santana was mostly sober and a lot tired, a headache threatening, but Brittany was soft and her laugh was gentle. Santana was willing to suffer a lot of things to keep holding onto this moment.
That was why, of course, Quinn chose that exact second to stride into the room, her hair down and mussed, her eyes a little glazed and desperate. She went straight for Santana.
“Let’s go.”
Santana blinked, then set her orange juice on the table and exchanged glances with Brittany. With a nod toward Kurt and Blaine, who were watching with wide, alert eyes, she grabbed her purse and Brittany and they followed Quinn through the kitchen and out the back door. They picked across the patio, and slipped out. Santana opened her mouth to ask, but Quinn must have seen it coming.
“Give me your keys. And I’ll tell you later.” She turned, her eyes telling her not to ask, not to question.
“Do I need to kick someone’s ass?” Santana asked plainly, handing over her keys. Quinn shook her head mutely. They piled into Santana’s car; Brittany curled up in the backseat and Santana sent curious glances at Quinn from the passenger seat. The ride back was too quiet, save the dinging of Quinn’s phone as she furiously texted someone. Santana stared out the window, and then, when she realized she could see Brittany in the side mirror, at Brittany’s eyes, at her mouth.
Santana’s house wasn’t far away and Quinn pulled into her garage with practiced ease. Santana was leading the way inside when she noticed Quinn heading out the garage.
“Aren’t you staying?” She asked and Quinn shook her head.
“I’m getting picked up.” The girl hesitated, like she wanted to say more but couldn’t find it in herself to do so. Santana leveled her with a look, kind and questioning and accepting in a way only drunken Santana ever was.
“Call me in the morning.” She commanded. Quinn nodded once and disappeared into the front yard.
Santana’s house was dark and empty, and she made Brittany slip off her shoes before she came inside. They crept up the stairs to Santana’s room and she flicked on her desk light, the light shining intimately through the room. She was suddenly exhausted from whatever the night had been and she tugged off her heels, tossing them in the corner. Digging out a couple pairs of sleep shorts and t-shirts, she tossed a pair to Brittany and slid the shorts on under her dress. She was struggling to get out of it when she felt warm, almost familiar hands brush softly against her waist. They slid up her arms and eased the material over her head and down onto the floor. Santana stood before Brittany, suddenly bare, and felt no shame in it.
Brittany smiled sweetly, and turned back to her clothes.
Dressed, teeth brushed, and face washed, they crawled into Santana’s bed, both still a little tipsy. The light was flicked off and darkness settled. Santana stared across the foot between them on her bed. Brittany’s face was a shadowy silhouette in the dark.
“I had fun tonight.” Brittany’s voice was louder than a whisper. Just quiet enough to fit the space. Intimate.
“I’m glad you came.” Santana blinked, her eyes getting heavier.
“I’m glad I met you.” Brittany murmured, as Santana was falling asleep.
She might have smiled stupidly before dreams overtook.
-
The morning dawned late. The alarm went off, was promptly silenced, and a blonde head and a brunette head buried back into the pillows, shifting under the sheets. It was nearing noon when Santana finally stretched out of sleep, her toes pushing the blanket away, fingers brushing her headboard.
She pushed up on her elbows and surveyed the strewn clothes on her floor, the blonde girl in her bed, and the
shades drawn tight. Her phone was blinking insistently from the desk. She reached over and pushed Brittany, who muttered something incomprehensible and rolled further away. Santana smiled, despite herself, and poked the girl again.
“Britts, wake up.” Two blue eyes blinked back at her, followed by a warm smile that crept up into them.
“Good morning.” Brittany murmured, before burying herself back under the pillows. Santana laughed. She was somehow hangover free and thoroughly rested. Last night’s events were a little vague and hazy, but it seemed
to have gone down okay.
“Come on, get up. I’ll make you pancakes.” Santana rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom. She took her time brushing her teeth and working a comb through her unruly hair. When she finally walked back into the bedroom, she stopped short. Brittany was stretching languidly on her bed, arms raised high above her, legs endless in the Santana’s tiny shorts.
Santana was entirely unaware of the need glazed across her eyes, but she did know Brittany was now regarding her with a soft look, her mouth almost curling into a smile.
“I think I heard something about pancakes.” Brittany said seriously. Santana nodded, unable to do anything else.
“Pancakes.” She managed finally, and tore her eyes away. “A Lopez family tradition. Come on.” She hurried to the bedroom door. This fleeing was becoming a regular occurrence, but then Santana had always been reluctant to devote any sort of courage to anyone.
They padded down the stairs, Brittany rubbing at sleepy eyes, Santana holding a hand against her rumbling stomach. They were halfway down when Mrs. Lopez swept into view, clearly headed out somewhere.
“Well, hello girls.” The woman smiled and it had that same Lopez sharpness to it, with a tinge of easily missed warmth. She was a blur of movement, shouldering her purse and swinging her keys. “I’m headed out to the store. Your father’s been called into work. There’s pancake mix and the fridge and Armando would like you to takehimtothepetstore.” She shot the last bit out quickly with an apologetic grimace and a blown kiss, and disappeared out the door, leaving Santana rolling her eyes. That meant Armando was going to be a royal brat until he was taken to the pet store, and her Mom had left her with the task of putting up with him.
“Sannn!” Armando came barreling through the doorway to the den and launched himself at Santana’s knees, wrapping his small arms around her legs. He had spiky brown bedhead that stood up in all directions, and light blue dinosaur pajamas on. He looked up at her with wide brown eyes that aimed for innocent but were betrayed by a twinkling glint. Brittany was instantly charmed. “Will you take me to the pet store?” Santana rolled her eyes again.
“We’ll see.” She said, and Armando let go of her and sat back with a huff. Then, he caught sight of Brittany and his whole demeanor changed. He scooted behind Santana and stared up with something like awe in his eyes.
He tugged once on Santana’s shirt, unable to tear his eyes away.
“Who’s that?” He asked.
“This is Brittany.” Santana turned to the girl, unaware that her eyes held the same gentle awe that Armando’s did. Brittany smiled down at the little boy.
“Hey.” Brittany sat down on the floor next to Armando and held out her hand. “Nice to meet you.” Armando only
buried his face behind Santana’s knees, his cheeks turning a bright shade of red.
“Say hello, Armando.” Santana looked down at her little brother, who was practically drowning in his sudden embarrassment.
“Hello.” He said finally, his voice very quiet. Santana reached down and pried his hands from her knees, then pulled him up by the hand.
“Come on, quiet being shy. Let’s make some pancakes.” He practically shot off in the direction of the kitchen, pulling Santana along behind him. She turned back and took Brittany’s hand, gave her a warm smile, and tugged her up and then down the hall as well.
-
The pet store was Armando’s idea of heaven on Earth. He was straining against Santana’s hand the moment they walked inside and she sent Brittany an exasperated look before letting him pull her toward the bunny rabbits. She let him press his nose to glass to watch the fish dart back and forth, and they finally ended up at the bird section. One of the employees squatted down beside him, thankfully distracting the little guy with a tiny yellow bird. Santana took a second to breathe.
“He really loves the pet store.” Brittany mused, leaning next to Santana against the wall. Their hands brushed. “I love the pet store, too. But I think the ferrets are plotting an escape.” She nodded toward the ferret cage, where two of them were perched on top of a castle of some sort. Santana laughed.
“Good for them.” They were quiet for a moment. Santana spoke without turning her head. “Thanks for coming with us.”
“Are you kidding? Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Brittany was sincere. Santana glanced down to see the girl offering her pinkie, and took it without a second thought. They smiled stupidly at each other for a second, and then Santana felt a tickle against her elbow. She looked down to see Armando holding a rat near her arm and promptly hopped a foot in the air, making a horrid face. To her credit, she didn’t scream, but Brittany and Armando burst out laughing anyway.
“You should have seen your face.” Brittany said, trying to calm down. She wiped a finger underneath her eyes and then caught Santana’s eye and started laughing again. Armando offered Brittany the rat and she scooped it into her hands.
“It’s a rat!” Santana said, censoring her more colorful comments.
“It’s just a baby.” Brittany was cooing at the thing and Armando ran a careful finger down the length of its tail. Santana sent the two of them a concerned look.
“You two are crazy. I’m going to go over here, where hopefully no one as crazy as you will be.” She walked away- well, kind of ran, really- and spent the next half an hour dodging Brittany’s attempts to hand her a mouse.
-
They dropped Armando back off at Santana’s house with her mom and, after Brittany had mussed Armando’s hair affectionately and turned his face beet red, they hopped back in the car. Santana, who usually couldn’t stand to be around one person for more than two hours, was annoyed at having to cut their afternoon short. Brittany had dance class, though, and Santana had homework and so she found herself navigating through Sam’s neighborhood at a snail’s pace.
Brittany was laughing as Santana recounted a Kurt story from the night before when they pulled into her driveway. Santana was blushing with happiness and the feeling in her chest was something so surreal and unfamiliar that she was desperate to keep it going.
“I had fun today.” Brittany told her, seeming just as unwilling to leave the car.
“I think Armando might be a little in love with you.” Santana teased. She shifted into park and sat back in her seat, giving in to the need to just stare at Brittany’s face. Brittany laughed.
“Maybe I’ll ask him out, then.” She replied easily. Santana rolled her eyes. “What? Then we could be sister-in-laws.”
“First of all, that’s totally illegal. Second of all, I don’t want you marrying my brother.” Santana made a face and laughed.
“Why not?” Brittany asked. Her tone was a little too serious and Santana met her gaze with apprehension. She frowned and started to backpedal.
“I mean, I guess…” Her words trailed off, though, and she found herself staring right back at Brittany, the tension between them melting into an unavoidable tug and flow. Her eyes betrayed her for a millisecond, dropping to Brittany’s lips and then shooting her gaze out the window. Her cheeks warmed, but she couldn’t keep herself from meeting Brittany’s gaze again.
She seemed closer than she had been a second ago and then Santana realized she was moving across the console, one hand braced on the seat, one lifting to settle on Santana’s knee. The thrill that spiked straight down her spine and burned hot in her gut was electrifying. Brittany’s hand was like a brand on her skin.
Santana breaths came quiet and shallow.
Brittany moved another inch closer, her breath puffing against Santana’s cheek, suddenly too close to be mistaken.
“Santana.” She breathed, like a question, and a solid, pure sense of absolute settled in Santana’s chest at the sound of her name, so familiar and so new. Her eyes fluttered shut with the heaviness of reality, but she didn’t need sight to find Brittany’s mouth with her own, crossing the centimeters to press a kiss into her lips. An unbearable warmth and joy ached in her body and the only relief was kissing Brittany again and just when Santana thought she couldn’t bear to feel anything else, Brittany was kissing her back.
She felt a hand soft against her neck, fingers tickling slightly at the hair on the back of her neck, their mouths hot and soft. Then, Brittany’s tongue moved to wet her lips and Santana’s breath left her in a pure, soft gasp. The bolt of need that ravaged her body shook her up and she pulled back, struggling to open her eyes.
Brittany’s mouth was bright pink and her cheeks were rosy and those blue eyes, god, shone warm and bright in the afternoon light.
Santana couldn’t catch her breath and she couldn’t keep from leaning back in.