Doing It Right (2/15)
Title: Doing It Right, Chapter 2: Regret Nothing
Author: creedogv
Rating: T
Summary: Santana was not one to believe in New Age-y stuff, but when given the opportunity to correct her past mistakes with Brittany, she can’t help but take it. Step 1 is to do a super-hot duet with Brittany.
Pairing: Santana/Brittany
Word Count: ~1800
Spoilers: 2x04 “Duets”
Author’s Note: Four reviews! Validation! This is going to be a problem. I’m not going to be able to stop updating. So, yes, this is a problem for me and a good thing for you.
Chapter 1
So here’s what you missed on Glee. Santana, hoping to get Brittany back, goes to this weird New Age-y doctor who lets her astrally project back in time… or something. She goes back to the duet assignment where she totally blew off Brittany the first time. This time, she does this instead: “So, Who are you going to sing a duet with?” “You.” And so begins her quest to win Brittany’s heart. And that’s what you missed on… Glee!
It seemed like only a breath later and Santana was sitting in the choir room at school. The doctor had mentioned she might lose time. Her experience in the past would pass like a dream; unimportant things would fly by in the blink of an eye. Making out with Brittany-and more?-seemed pretty damn important.
But was more important was finding her best friend by her side, their pinkies linked, the girl bouncing up and down with nervous energy.
Something caught her eye: near the door to the choir room, Tina was talking to Artie. This seemed vaguely familiar. Over the din of her glee mates talking, she caught the gist of Tina’s conversation with Artie: she was asking him to be her partner for the duet assignment. Artie was nodding and grinning. Santana’s head twisted to where Mike was sitting, on the back row, looking forlorn at the same development.
The facts came together: Brittany’s my partner. That means she’s not Artie’s partner. That means if Asian of the Night were to ask Wheels, he wouldn’t say no. He still wants all up in her yin-yang.
Tina’s asking. He’s not saying no.
The last thing Santana needed was to play Butterfly Effect, so while the change of events was a little ominous, she needed to focus on keeping Brittany and Artie apart.
Mr. Schuester got up and, cheerily as always, announced that Santana and Brittany had volunteered to go first. Santana wasn’t sure how to react to that. She and Mercedes had gone first before, but at least in that timeline, she’d known and practiced what song she had signed up to sing. Would they be doing “River Deep, Mountain High”? It didn’t seem likely. Brittany could rock a mean Britney Spears, but her voice was not well-suited to power belters like Ike and Tina Turner. It was too late to stall; Brittany was dragging her down toward the floor and frowning at her reluctance. Santana put on a fake smile that she knew Brittany would see through, but hoped to pass off as nervousness.
The Veronicas - Untouched
When the band started playing the song’s introduction, an almost classical arrangement of violins and cello, Santana’s anxiety lessened considerably. It was one of Brittany’s favorite songs, something that Santana had been forced to listen to hundreds of times over the past couple of years. Her anxiety returned when the implications of the song hit her.
Her anxiety jumped through the roof when, offset by a heavy beat on the drum set, Brittany strutted two steps forward and unzipped the back of her Cheerios skirt in front of the entire club. The fabric collected on the ground, and Santana released a sigh of relief, seeing that Brittany was wearing a tight black miniskirt underneath. Four measures later, her Cheerios top was similarly discarded, revealing a black blouse with quarter-length sleeves and a lacy (and distracting) square neckline. Releasing her hair was the final stage of her costume change, which after two shakes of her head was perfectly set, a trick only Brittany could do.
She looked back expectantly, and Santana took a leap of faith. Her eyes scanned her audience, whose eyes were all expectantly wide. She brought out her bedroom eyes; it was second nature to her. She took two deliberate steps forward, unzipping the back of her skirt as she advanced, kicking the skirt back with her foot without pause. No one fainted, so she assumed the fabric she still felt around her hips was a miniskirt and not some sort of undergarment. She peeled her top of with similar mystique, catching an eyeful of a black keyhole-button tank. She let her hair down, attempting to tease with two hair tosses, like Brittany. No doubt she was less successful than Brittany and ended up with sex hair. Probably for the best, she thought. At that moment, Santana realized that the choreography up to this point was probably her idea. Brittany’s arm was held out by her side, her fingers splayed welcomingly. Santana took the hand, recognizing the callback to the music video.
Brittany started, talking more than singing: “I go-”
Santana instantly took over, “Ooh ooh, you go-”
“Ah ah,” Brittany breathily finished the tricky first lines.
They continued together, switching off occasionally, but Brittany taking the lead with the majority of the sing-talking:
La la la la la la la la
I can’t lie lie lie lie lie lie
I wanna wanna wanna get get get what I want
Don’t stop
Give me give me give me what you got got
Cause I can’t wait wait wait any more more more more
Don’t even talk about the consequence
Cause right now you’re the only thing that’s making any sense to me
And I don’t give a damn what they say, what they think think
Cause you’re the only one who’s on my mind
I’ll never ever let you leave me
I’ll try to stop time for ever, never wanna hear you say goodbye (bye bye bye)
Up until then, they mostly sway in tempo, but as Santana came in strong for the more musical chorus, Brittany backed down her vocals and amped up her dancing:
I feel so untouched
And I want you so much
That I just can’t resist you
It’s not enough to say that I miss you
I feel so untouched right now
Need you so much somehow
I can’t forget you
Been going crazy from the moment I met you
Santana danced in place with greater energy, but Brittany absolutely bounced around her, leaning in intimately close during the harmonizing portions. Another musical interlude came up, and Brittany started to slither around Santana, who played her part well, dragging her hands through Brittany’s hair and shifting away flirtatiously. True to the song, they didn’t touch much more than a ghost of a hand across one’s arm or brief fingering through the other’s hair.
Brittany took center stage again for the second verse. The vocals were more equally shared, so Santana kept her voice strong, putting a lot more purring in the song that did the original singers. While she sang, Brittany did a more complicated routine: a mix of spins and struts that Santana prayed she wasn’t meant to be mirroring. Instead she played off Brittany the best she could, masterfully if she did say so herself. If she wasn’t meant to improvise, Brittany was adapting well to her ignorance of the moves.
The chorus came up again and Brittany really powered through it, matching Santana’s volume throughout. Brittany grabbed Santana’s hand a line in and tightly held it. The Latina became worried about how long Brittany intended to squeeze her hand as the chorus closed, but it was all part of the plan it seemed, as Brittany dragged her forward until they were a step away from the front row where Artie, Tina, Berry, and Finn sat. When Brittany turned out, dropping Santana’s hand and walking away, Santana did the same. They repeated the chorus while walking up the risers and singing in the faces of their classmates, slowly making their way up and down, and finally toward each other.
Been crazy from the moment I touched you
Brittany extended her hand and Santana did the same, their fingers an inch apart. To the other, and no one else, they chanted:
Untouched… untouched… untouched
The cello belted out the familiar introduction as they remained eying each other.
The room was dead silent. Mr. Schue looked like he may have suffered an aneurysm from where he was sitting at the piano bench. Artie broke the silence by hooting and hollering, and soon the boys joined in, followed by the girls, who provided more applause than cheering. Finn’s enthusiastic whooping died down a lot off a nasty glance from Rachel, who clapped politely while utterly failing to look sportsmanlike. Santana noticed that one person had considerably less enthusiasm: Kurt was doing a private slow clap, watching them with a pensive and perhaps knowing look.
“Wow, ladies,” Mr. Schue finally said, clearing his throat, “that was certainly… passionate. The vocals and choreography were exceptional. The theatricals might have been a little much.”
Santana shrugged and the pair made their way to the front of the room to collect their discarded uniforms. Santana briefly considered apologizing for the overt subtextual homoeroticism and striptease motif, but realized she wasn’t the type of person who apologized for that sort of thing.
Plus, she reasoned, if Finn and Rachel plan to do a romantic duet dressed like a priest and a nun, there’s no reason why Brittany and I singing a song by a couple of sisters who act like they’re into each other is somehow worse. We might have even saved their asses from losing the competition by doing something more inappropriate. Santana frowned at the premise of helping out Finn and Berry, even unintentionally.
After returning to their seats, Mike leaned over, across Santana’s lap, not touching it-he was smart enough for that, at least-and congratulated Brittany. When he pulled back, he amended his praise to Santana, too, but the undertones of his actions were obvious. Santana was ready to tear out his spiky Asian, anime-esque hair when the boy hazarded a glance toward the front row, where Tina was looking up at the exchange. Santana’s anger dissipated immediately, at Mike at least. She sent him a patented Santana glare, not even her best work, and it was enough to get the boy back in his seat.
It seemed that this duet competition was going to be ripe with jealousy scams no matter what, so Santana realized she had no choice to put her expert scheming skills to work. It almost seemed like more work than it was worth, but all it took was the feel of Brittany sliding her pinky into Santana’s to really that nothing was more work that it was worth when it came to her current assignment.
Her eyes scanned the room while the gears turned in her brain. She need a plan, nothing too complex; no elaborate games of chess, or even checkers; no, this was going to be a simple game of three-card Monte: getting her what she wanted directly and efficiently. She had her mark: Tina; her target: Mike; her decoy: Artie; and now she just need her shill. And there she was.
Schuester was giving his closing remarks, his usual mixture of abject praise and fatherly pearls of wisdom. Santana leaned over, pulling Brittany in, whispering into her ear, making sure to tickle the blonde with little puffs of air to elicit giggles. “So, sexy lady, I think we rocked the house. We’ll celebrate at Breadstix when we win, of course, but I see no reason to wait. You wanna dust off your Sailor Moon box set and have a sleepover in my basement tonight?” Brittany nodded vigorously at the suggestion. “Okay, then, be at my house at 9 PM sharp. Look, I gotta go talk to somebody, but I’ll meet you at my car in ten, okay?”
“‘Kay.”
Santana reluctantly unhooked her pinky and raced to catch up with her selected pawn. “Hey, Mercedes, hold up…”
Author’s Note: Trying out a new music embedding system.
Chapter 3: A Game of Three-Card Monte
Author: creedogv
Rating: T
Summary: Santana was not one to believe in New Age-y stuff, but when given the opportunity to correct her past mistakes with Brittany, she can’t help but take it. Step 1 is to do a super-hot duet with Brittany.
Pairing: Santana/Brittany
Word Count: ~1800
Spoilers: 2x04 “Duets”
Author’s Note: Four reviews! Validation! This is going to be a problem. I’m not going to be able to stop updating. So, yes, this is a problem for me and a good thing for you.
Chapter 1
So here’s what you missed on Glee. Santana, hoping to get Brittany back, goes to this weird New Age-y doctor who lets her astrally project back in time… or something. She goes back to the duet assignment where she totally blew off Brittany the first time. This time, she does this instead: “So, Who are you going to sing a duet with?” “You.” And so begins her quest to win Brittany’s heart. And that’s what you missed on… Glee!
It seemed like only a breath later and Santana was sitting in the choir room at school. The doctor had mentioned she might lose time. Her experience in the past would pass like a dream; unimportant things would fly by in the blink of an eye. Making out with Brittany-and more?-seemed pretty damn important.
But was more important was finding her best friend by her side, their pinkies linked, the girl bouncing up and down with nervous energy.
Something caught her eye: near the door to the choir room, Tina was talking to Artie. This seemed vaguely familiar. Over the din of her glee mates talking, she caught the gist of Tina’s conversation with Artie: she was asking him to be her partner for the duet assignment. Artie was nodding and grinning. Santana’s head twisted to where Mike was sitting, on the back row, looking forlorn at the same development.
The facts came together: Brittany’s my partner. That means she’s not Artie’s partner. That means if Asian of the Night were to ask Wheels, he wouldn’t say no. He still wants all up in her yin-yang.
Tina’s asking. He’s not saying no.
The last thing Santana needed was to play Butterfly Effect, so while the change of events was a little ominous, she needed to focus on keeping Brittany and Artie apart.
Mr. Schuester got up and, cheerily as always, announced that Santana and Brittany had volunteered to go first. Santana wasn’t sure how to react to that. She and Mercedes had gone first before, but at least in that timeline, she’d known and practiced what song she had signed up to sing. Would they be doing “River Deep, Mountain High”? It didn’t seem likely. Brittany could rock a mean Britney Spears, but her voice was not well-suited to power belters like Ike and Tina Turner. It was too late to stall; Brittany was dragging her down toward the floor and frowning at her reluctance. Santana put on a fake smile that she knew Brittany would see through, but hoped to pass off as nervousness.
The Veronicas - Untouched
When the band started playing the song’s introduction, an almost classical arrangement of violins and cello, Santana’s anxiety lessened considerably. It was one of Brittany’s favorite songs, something that Santana had been forced to listen to hundreds of times over the past couple of years. Her anxiety returned when the implications of the song hit her.
Her anxiety jumped through the roof when, offset by a heavy beat on the drum set, Brittany strutted two steps forward and unzipped the back of her Cheerios skirt in front of the entire club. The fabric collected on the ground, and Santana released a sigh of relief, seeing that Brittany was wearing a tight black miniskirt underneath. Four measures later, her Cheerios top was similarly discarded, revealing a black blouse with quarter-length sleeves and a lacy (and distracting) square neckline. Releasing her hair was the final stage of her costume change, which after two shakes of her head was perfectly set, a trick only Brittany could do.
She looked back expectantly, and Santana took a leap of faith. Her eyes scanned her audience, whose eyes were all expectantly wide. She brought out her bedroom eyes; it was second nature to her. She took two deliberate steps forward, unzipping the back of her skirt as she advanced, kicking the skirt back with her foot without pause. No one fainted, so she assumed the fabric she still felt around her hips was a miniskirt and not some sort of undergarment. She peeled her top of with similar mystique, catching an eyeful of a black keyhole-button tank. She let her hair down, attempting to tease with two hair tosses, like Brittany. No doubt she was less successful than Brittany and ended up with sex hair. Probably for the best, she thought. At that moment, Santana realized that the choreography up to this point was probably her idea. Brittany’s arm was held out by her side, her fingers splayed welcomingly. Santana took the hand, recognizing the callback to the music video.
Brittany started, talking more than singing: “I go-”
Santana instantly took over, “Ooh ooh, you go-”
“Ah ah,” Brittany breathily finished the tricky first lines.
They continued together, switching off occasionally, but Brittany taking the lead with the majority of the sing-talking:
La la la la la la la la
I can’t lie lie lie lie lie lie
I wanna wanna wanna get get get what I want
Don’t stop
Give me give me give me what you got got
Cause I can’t wait wait wait any more more more more
Don’t even talk about the consequence
Cause right now you’re the only thing that’s making any sense to me
And I don’t give a damn what they say, what they think think
Cause you’re the only one who’s on my mind
I’ll never ever let you leave me
I’ll try to stop time for ever, never wanna hear you say goodbye (bye bye bye)
Up until then, they mostly sway in tempo, but as Santana came in strong for the more musical chorus, Brittany backed down her vocals and amped up her dancing:
I feel so untouched
And I want you so much
That I just can’t resist you
It’s not enough to say that I miss you
I feel so untouched right now
Need you so much somehow
I can’t forget you
Been going crazy from the moment I met you
Santana danced in place with greater energy, but Brittany absolutely bounced around her, leaning in intimately close during the harmonizing portions. Another musical interlude came up, and Brittany started to slither around Santana, who played her part well, dragging her hands through Brittany’s hair and shifting away flirtatiously. True to the song, they didn’t touch much more than a ghost of a hand across one’s arm or brief fingering through the other’s hair.
Brittany took center stage again for the second verse. The vocals were more equally shared, so Santana kept her voice strong, putting a lot more purring in the song that did the original singers. While she sang, Brittany did a more complicated routine: a mix of spins and struts that Santana prayed she wasn’t meant to be mirroring. Instead she played off Brittany the best she could, masterfully if she did say so herself. If she wasn’t meant to improvise, Brittany was adapting well to her ignorance of the moves.
The chorus came up again and Brittany really powered through it, matching Santana’s volume throughout. Brittany grabbed Santana’s hand a line in and tightly held it. The Latina became worried about how long Brittany intended to squeeze her hand as the chorus closed, but it was all part of the plan it seemed, as Brittany dragged her forward until they were a step away from the front row where Artie, Tina, Berry, and Finn sat. When Brittany turned out, dropping Santana’s hand and walking away, Santana did the same. They repeated the chorus while walking up the risers and singing in the faces of their classmates, slowly making their way up and down, and finally toward each other.
Been crazy from the moment I touched you
Brittany extended her hand and Santana did the same, their fingers an inch apart. To the other, and no one else, they chanted:
Untouched… untouched… untouched
The cello belted out the familiar introduction as they remained eying each other.
The room was dead silent. Mr. Schue looked like he may have suffered an aneurysm from where he was sitting at the piano bench. Artie broke the silence by hooting and hollering, and soon the boys joined in, followed by the girls, who provided more applause than cheering. Finn’s enthusiastic whooping died down a lot off a nasty glance from Rachel, who clapped politely while utterly failing to look sportsmanlike. Santana noticed that one person had considerably less enthusiasm: Kurt was doing a private slow clap, watching them with a pensive and perhaps knowing look.
“Wow, ladies,” Mr. Schue finally said, clearing his throat, “that was certainly… passionate. The vocals and choreography were exceptional. The theatricals might have been a little much.”
Santana shrugged and the pair made their way to the front of the room to collect their discarded uniforms. Santana briefly considered apologizing for the overt subtextual homoeroticism and striptease motif, but realized she wasn’t the type of person who apologized for that sort of thing.
Plus, she reasoned, if Finn and Rachel plan to do a romantic duet dressed like a priest and a nun, there’s no reason why Brittany and I singing a song by a couple of sisters who act like they’re into each other is somehow worse. We might have even saved their asses from losing the competition by doing something more inappropriate. Santana frowned at the premise of helping out Finn and Berry, even unintentionally.
After returning to their seats, Mike leaned over, across Santana’s lap, not touching it-he was smart enough for that, at least-and congratulated Brittany. When he pulled back, he amended his praise to Santana, too, but the undertones of his actions were obvious. Santana was ready to tear out his spiky Asian, anime-esque hair when the boy hazarded a glance toward the front row, where Tina was looking up at the exchange. Santana’s anger dissipated immediately, at Mike at least. She sent him a patented Santana glare, not even her best work, and it was enough to get the boy back in his seat.
It seemed that this duet competition was going to be ripe with jealousy scams no matter what, so Santana realized she had no choice to put her expert scheming skills to work. It almost seemed like more work than it was worth, but all it took was the feel of Brittany sliding her pinky into Santana’s to really that nothing was more work that it was worth when it came to her current assignment.
Her eyes scanned the room while the gears turned in her brain. She need a plan, nothing too complex; no elaborate games of chess, or even checkers; no, this was going to be a simple game of three-card Monte: getting her what she wanted directly and efficiently. She had her mark: Tina; her target: Mike; her decoy: Artie; and now she just need her shill. And there she was.
Schuester was giving his closing remarks, his usual mixture of abject praise and fatherly pearls of wisdom. Santana leaned over, pulling Brittany in, whispering into her ear, making sure to tickle the blonde with little puffs of air to elicit giggles. “So, sexy lady, I think we rocked the house. We’ll celebrate at Breadstix when we win, of course, but I see no reason to wait. You wanna dust off your Sailor Moon box set and have a sleepover in my basement tonight?” Brittany nodded vigorously at the suggestion. “Okay, then, be at my house at 9 PM sharp. Look, I gotta go talk to somebody, but I’ll meet you at my car in ten, okay?”
“‘Kay.”
Santana reluctantly unhooked her pinky and raced to catch up with her selected pawn. “Hey, Mercedes, hold up…”
Author’s Note: Trying out a new music embedding system.
Chapter 3: A Game of Three-Card Monte