Doing It Right (5/16)
Title: Doing It Right, Chapter 5: A Perfectly Logic Turn of Events
Author: creedogv
Rating: M
Summary: Santana has been given the opportunity to correct her past mistakes with Brittany, so she can’t help but take it. She learns that things might get worse before they get better.
Pairing: Santana/Brittany
Spoilers: 2x06 “Never Been Kissed”
Author’s Note: I hope everyone noticed the rating change. Super-special thanks to lets_duet for betaing. I literally could not have gotten through this chapter if not for her.
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4
So here’s what you missed on Glee. The glee club’s doing Rocky Horror, and Santana makes sure things don’t go too off-course. Except she kind of doesn’t like what a bitch Mr. Schue’s being, so she prevents him from trying to be Rocky and flirting with Miss Pillsbury. “You and Rachel will be pretending to actually get it on. Do I have that right?” Well, that fixes that. What it doesn’t fix is Brittany getting really shy about how much affection Santana’s showing her. Oops. And that’s what you missed on… Glee!
Santana Lopez was not a quitter. In the grand scheme of things, Brittany being embarrassed by the glee club watching them get their mack on, on stage, was a minor issue. Her goal was never to get Brittany comfortable with affection in public. Though, that wasn’t an issue before. Her goal was to get Brittany to understand that in her apparently cold heart, there were feelings for her, and that she wasn’t afraid of them.
And, to her credit, she thought she was doing a good job showing Brittany that without being explicit. For the past week, Santana had spent every night in Brittany’s bedroom, and all that it entailed. Hormones were to blame, she claimed, each time muttering the excuse more flippantly. And the sex was not her usual aggressive and detached style; she was always either possessive or tender. She always stayed the night, sneaking out right before dawn, but not before waking Brittany with a kiss to the temple or to the lips, whispering apologetically that she needed to get home before her parents woke up, but that she’d see her at school. And, most importantly, she’d kept her tongue loose when it came to terms of endearment, never hesitating to call Brittany “baby”, “sweetie”, or “honey.” She was careful about one thing, though. No I love you’s slipped through her lips, even in the throes of passion, even while hoping for exactly that from Brittany.
And it was working. Her hand was cramping from having their pinkies linked almost constantly. She utilized even that as an opportunity. Hand massages led to arm massages, which led to back massages, which led to quickies in the locker room during lunch.
Also, she was constantly, constantly, catching Brittany staring at her. The girl was smitten, and she knew things could only go up from here.
Speaking of things going up, Mike finally took Tina back. He was a forgiving soul by nature, and it was more than obvious by Tina’s avoidance of Artie that things were over between the exes. Santana didn’t hear about the reconciliation from Brittany, however. When the blonde spontaneously shoved her into the astronomy room for a midday make-out session-yet another sign that Santana’s plan was succeeding-the two stumbled upon the Asian duo rounding second base on top of Ms. Castle’s desk. Granted, there would be the brief snafu of Mike believing Tina was fantasizing about Coach Beiste-which made no sense for so many reasons-but Santana knew that this issue would resolve itself, so she didn’t feel compelled to interfere.
Finn and Rachel, on the other hand, seemed a little distant. Nah, I’m juggling enough balls as it is.
* * *
Puck was back. Santana delighted in how very little she thought about him since she’d traveled back. Her journey had started after Mr. Schue announced his absence, so for her it was months and months ago that Puck had been sent to juvie. She had been so focused on Brittany, she had no need to ponder his absence, in general and especially in bed.
Schuester was splitting the club up into guys and girls for the Mash-up Duel, Part Deux. Kurt again tried to defect to the girls’ team and again Will prevented him from doing so. Santana considered speaking on his behalf, but she debated whether it was worth it or the right thing to do. She’d already held her tongue concerning Dalton’s probable population of queer students, as much for her own sake as for Kurt’s. Also, in retrospect, not that funny of a joke. In the end, the moment passed, and Santana convinced herself that Kurt being on the boys’ team was a good thing. He was gay, not transsexual, so besides feeling a kinship with the ladies, he shouldn’t feel the need to identify himself as one.
The next day, when Mr. Schue announced each team would being doing a mash-up by opposite gender groups, she threw in her support. She told herself it was for Kurt’s sake, but she couldn’t deny she was looking forward to seeing Brittany in that leather outfit again. The first time around, they’d had extra-sexy fun with those costumes the night after their performance. Santana was intent on keeping that tradition, and maybe even outdoing herself.
But, like last time, those costumes were both a blessing and a curse. Right in the middle of assembling them, Puck and Artie walked (and rolled) in. Berry, in the exact same tone as last time, cried “SPIES!!!” Some things never changed. And one of them was Artie developing an interest in Brittany.
After Puck’s demeaning proposition, Santana was fully prepared to tell him to fuck off, but Brittany answered first.
“Sounds like fun,” she’d told Santana, her eyes focused on her and not the boys.
As soon as she recovered from her heart crashing into her stomach, Santana studied Brittany’s face, but the girl was being unusually inscrutable. It was a gamble either way, so Santana landed on the side of caution. “I never say no to a trip to Breadstix,” was her answer, a quote from a Santana from another time.
Puck yammered on for a little while-more misogynistic drivel probably; Santana wasn’t listening-and he escorted Artie out of the room.
“What was that about, B?”
Brittany replied, “You love Breadstix. You’re always saying we should never turn Puck down.” Her tone wasn’t completely honest, though.
“But with Artie?”
“I don’t see why not. He’s nice… for a robot. And I’m really excited to try eggplant parmesan ever since I wasn’t able grow eggplants in my backyard. My mom got mad because she couldn’t cook omelets one morning. Plus, he’s been sad ever since he broke up with Tina and I don’t want to hurt his feelings. Do robots have feelings?”
Santana was really tempted to tell her that robot-Artie didn’t have feelings, but if they were going to have dinner with him, there was too much risk of the lie backfiring. Santana reminded herself that Brittany thought of Artie as a complete stranger, at best a casual acquaintance. Like a mantra, she told herself: They have no history; in the race for Brittany’s heart you’re winning by a mile. But that begged the question, without Brittany approaching him first, how did Artie develop an interest in her? And why had destiny curved back around, setting up a double-date that Santana should have rendered impossible?
She decided to investigate with Puck. “So since when does Wheels have a woody for B?” she greeted him.
“I’m glad you’re happy to see me back from the Big House,” he replied. “And to answer your question, have you seen the girl? Every guy but Kurt in this school wants a slice of that.”
“Oh, I’ve seen her. I’ve seen more of her than you have, and more often, too.”
“Is that so?” Puck replied, in a sad attempt to be coy. The boy was dense if he thought her double entendre was unintentional.
“Okay, but why Brittany? How did she get on his radar?”
“That was me. I’m on probation, and Artie’s my community service. He’s still moping because Tina jumped onto the Oriental Express, so I figured, I get the guy laid; it’s service to the downtrodden. And the easiest way for that to happen is take him on a double date with the First Date Sorority.” Santana only barely resisted clawing his eyes out then and there. “Plus, a month in the slammer has given me a lethal case of blue balls.” He rubbed her lower back and Santana suppressed a cringe.
“I should be so lucky,” she muttered under her breath. “Look, you could’ve gotten plenty if you had been open to new experiences.”
“Ooh, saucy. Somebody missed the Puckzilla while he was gone.”
“You’d be surprised.”
Well, damn if that isn’t a perfectly fucking logical turn of events.
* * *
It was a preliminary strike, Santana reasoned. Before their double date with Puck and Artie, Santana asked Brittany to model her Bon Jovi outfit for her. When the blonde came out of her bedroom closet, clad completely in tight black leather that hugged every curve, she found that her best friend had a surprise for her. She had strut into the room like a runway model, only to encounter Santana lying on her bed, dressed in black leather, too, arms over her head, the chain belt tied around both wrists and through the slats of her headboard. While Brittany was getting her costume on, Santana had put on hers, too.
“Brittany, I think I’m stuck,” she explained with all the subtly of a 70s adult film actress.
Brittany took her statement at face value, giggled, promised not to tell anyone, and offered to help her get unstuck.
“We’ve got some time to kill. If you want to do something else before you untie me, that’s okay.”
Brittany thought for a minute, then daydreamed for a minute as her eyes raked in Santana’s vulnerable form, and noted, “This is just an idea, but since you’re tied up like how you sometimes tie me up, we could…”
“Yes, Brittany, let’s do that.”
She wasted no time in straddling Santana’s hips and rubbing her hands across the leather garments, providing the brunette with only the bare minimum of tactile stimulation.
In defiance of her past routine, Santana had taken to changing out of her uniform whenever she wasn’t at school, and prodded her best friend to do the same. Brittany’s normal sleepwear was a combination of the world’s tiniest pair of exercise shorts and a too-tight, too-short tank top, and Santana was not going to miss a second of that image. And in order to get Brittany equally enamored, she defined her pajamas as a pair of bikini-cut panties under an oversized, off-the-shoulder tee, the kind where the collar was loose enough to give a glimpse of her bare chest every time she leaned over. And it worked like a charm.
Leather seemed to have the same effect in getting Brittany in the mood, but it was thicker than cotton, and very tight, preventing friction of any kind. So she was glad when Brittany finally decided it was time to start unzipping zippers. The girl was a tease, though, deciding that her zippers came first, so Santana had to “suffer” through watching Brittany undress first. And since she never missed the opportunity to dance, she practiced some of the choreography from their upcoming performance.
Forty-five minutes later, the pair were running late for their double date.
“What should we wear?” Brittany asked from the shower.
Santana had finished drying off and was now ogling Brittany’s form through the frosted, beach-theme shower curtain and making mental plans for later. She replied, “We’ll put on our Cheerios uniforms. It’s what they’ll be expecting anyway.” For the double date, their prim polyester uniforms were a requirement. No-hawk and No-Legs weren’t getting the real thing; they got the façades.
* * *
Santana spent the majority of the night wishing her dinner knife were sharp enough to slice off Puck’s roaming hands. She could just imagine the slime that was now greasing her uniform. I’m going to need a shower after tonight.
Luckily, Puck was biding his time until he could get the Latina in bed, since he didn’t seem to care that Santana’s ear hadn’t absorbed a word he’d said that night. She remembered his dumb spiels about waffles and gang fights the first time around and felt less than zero need to hear them again. Instead, she glared across the table at Brittany flirting openly with Artie. She recognized the persona that Brittany had put on; it was the one Santana had taught her. Artie for the most part alternated between lavishing in and being conflicted by the attention. Every once in a while, he would put on the disinterested act after a glare from Puck.
Before she knew it, Puck was pushing them to dine-and-dash, and Santana panicked. In the intervening time, she’d learned how serious of a crime it was, and worse, that you could get banned from the restaurant you committed it against. But having spent the night trying to set Artie on fire with her mind, she hadn’t gotten to planning an exit strategy.
Artie lagged behind, paying for dinner, and Santana resolved to be 3 percent less snotty to him. Puck looked disgusted. Brittany just looked confused. I’ve got to undo the training that makes her think of service industry workers as lesser mortals. Then came Puck’s suggestion for a threesome, and Santana was ready with the headache excuse that had gotten them out of this jam from last time, but Brittany jumped in first, “Ooh, we’ve never done that before.” She sounded genuinely interested, enough to fool the dense Puck, but Santana could hear the falseness in her voice. She was also giving Santana a searching look.
Santana tried to decipher Brittany’s expression. She was definitely testing her, but it was impossible to read how she wanted her to respond. For the first time since Santana had traveled back, she was angry at her best friend. She had been worshipping her, body and soul, for the past month, and the girl was playing mind games with her. “Then let’s do it,” she answered, the venom in her voice carefully hidden.
Puck looked like he’d won the lottery, completely missing the silent conversation that had just occurred in front of him. The check now paid out of his own allowance, Artie glared at the three of them from the booth, his face only softening when Brittany smiled vacantly at him. He rolled off, saying he was going to call his dad to bring the family van. Puck shuffled the two girls out; whether he’d heard Artie or not was irrelevant.
He drove them to his house, speeding the entire time, while either pinching himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming or fondling himself openly in the front seat. Santana had pulled Brittany into the back seat and was not saying a word or looking at Brittany, but didn’t denying the hand she was offered.
The Puckermans’ house was empty. His mother was working the late shift and Puck explained that he’d dropped his sister off at Chuck E. Cheese’s so he wouldn’t have to babysit her. He practically raced to his room, with Santana drudging along like it was a death march, her hand gripping Brittany’s tightly.
Puck was literally pacing when the two Cheerios joined him in his room. “So, how do you want to do this?”
The reality of the situation finally struck Santana, so she worked fast. “Sit your ass down, Puckerman. Britts and I will start the show and invite you in when it’s time.” Which will be never. “Try not to blow your load.” Please do; it’ll make it easier on all of us.
By the rustling of clothing, Santana assumed Puck was quickly undressing. She directed Brittany to the bed into a kneeling position facing the footboard. She joined her friend, who was looking at Puck uncomfortably. Santana grabbed the girl’s face and embraced her with a deep, longing kiss, her tongue seeking access almost immediately.
Puck whooped at the display. “Shit, this is hot!”
This drew Brittany’s attention, but Santana reclaimed it with another intense make-out session. When Puck startled heckling for some clothes to be removed, Santana cringed and unzipped her top and threw it at him violently. Without asking, she did the same with Brittany’s, recapturing her in a kiss before the spell could be broken. As much as she tried to block him out, Puck was the elephant in the room, a noisy, lecherous elephant that was expecting to be allowed to trample in at any moment.
When Puck got too chatty, Santana pulled down her bra and unhooked Brittany’s to distract him. It didn’t work. “Ladies, the Puckzilla can’t wait any longer.” He hopped up from his chair and sniffed Santana’s hair, putting a hand on each of the girls’ shoulders. Santana cringed at the touch and she noticed Brittany did the same. Locking eyes with Brittany, Santana finally noticed the fear in her eyes, the tears that were building. She had wanted anything but this; she had wanted Santana to say no. And now she just wanted her protector to fix this. She turned to Puck, and in her typical biting tone, explained, “So, your greasy hands are totally throwing off my game. Change of plans.”
Puck’s face was in a glare in an instant. “You’re a goddamn tease, Lopez.”
“Shut your waffle hole, Cool Hand Luke. Maybe if you stop being such a whiny bitch, Britts and I can put on a good show for you instead.”
“Oh, please, I’ve got free Skinemax ever since I bullied that A/V kid with asthma.”
Santana pushed Brittany down on the bed, hiking up her skirt and slipping off the briefs underneath it. Brittany crossed her legs and twisted away, hiding herself from Puck. “Well, maybe I can upgrade your subscription.” She got on her hands and knees, spread Brittany’s legs, and lowered her head between her thighs. She looked up once at Brittany, who nodded subtly with a modicum of relief, shooting a quick wary glance in Puck’s direction. His eyes looked like they were going to drop back in his head, as he stumbled back into a sitting position at the foot of the bed with all the grace of a naked zombie.
Santana’s head disappeared between Brittany’s legs, and when the blonde’s strong legs closed around her head, she was only too happy to have them muffle Puck’s grunting. She had hoped that Puck would have a hair trigger after his forced period of abstinence, but the asshole had probably been jacking off like a mental patient to get his stamina back up. Instead, it looked like she was going to have to go through with her promise and she tried to block him out by distracting herself with pleasuring Brittany. At first the blonde was unusually quiet, but a pinch on the thigh and a whispered “Play it up” had Brittany, after a sour glare, mimicking a porn star.
Brittany’s moans and writhing were apparently enough to get Puck off, who swore at his poor pacing. Santana pulled up, causing Brittany to groan in frustration, and stated that they needed to switch positions. She pushed Brittany off the bed, put Puck in her place lying back, and pulled Brittany back in a kneeling position at the foot of the bed, where she joined her again. “Enjoy the rest of the show,” she told Puck, the last thing she planned on saying to him that night, if not forever.
Her hands grabbed two fistfuls of hair and crashed their lips together. Once Brittany started responding, she started rubbing her hands all over the girl’s now exposed body. She teased all the right areas, but didn’t take the show out of softcore porn territory. Before long, Puck’s drowsiness overtook him, and he began softly snoring with his hand resting on his groin. Santana sighed, covering Puck up with a sheet.
“You want to get out of here, and finish this right? You can sleep over at my place.” Brittany quickly agreed. “But I need a shower first,” Santana stated dully. Brittany just nodded vigorously, if not desperately.
Puck’s suburban neighborhood was only a quarter mile from Santana’s gated community, so the pair walked. Brittany offered her pinky, but Santana grabbed her whole hand, interlacing all their fingers, squeezing just a little too hard.
Author’s Note: In the original version, Santana and Brittany more or less went through with the threesome, but there were simply too many unfortunate implications, so I modified the ending a bit. Hopefully, I didn’t soften it too much. It was still pretty hard to write.
Chapter 6: The Spark That Sets It Off
Author: creedogv
Rating: M
Summary: Santana has been given the opportunity to correct her past mistakes with Brittany, so she can’t help but take it. She learns that things might get worse before they get better.
Pairing: Santana/Brittany
Spoilers: 2x06 “Never Been Kissed”
Author’s Note: I hope everyone noticed the rating change. Super-special thanks to lets_duet for betaing. I literally could not have gotten through this chapter if not for her.
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4
So here’s what you missed on Glee. The glee club’s doing Rocky Horror, and Santana makes sure things don’t go too off-course. Except she kind of doesn’t like what a bitch Mr. Schue’s being, so she prevents him from trying to be Rocky and flirting with Miss Pillsbury. “You and Rachel will be pretending to actually get it on. Do I have that right?” Well, that fixes that. What it doesn’t fix is Brittany getting really shy about how much affection Santana’s showing her. Oops. And that’s what you missed on… Glee!
Santana Lopez was not a quitter. In the grand scheme of things, Brittany being embarrassed by the glee club watching them get their mack on, on stage, was a minor issue. Her goal was never to get Brittany comfortable with affection in public. Though, that wasn’t an issue before. Her goal was to get Brittany to understand that in her apparently cold heart, there were feelings for her, and that she wasn’t afraid of them.
And, to her credit, she thought she was doing a good job showing Brittany that without being explicit. For the past week, Santana had spent every night in Brittany’s bedroom, and all that it entailed. Hormones were to blame, she claimed, each time muttering the excuse more flippantly. And the sex was not her usual aggressive and detached style; she was always either possessive or tender. She always stayed the night, sneaking out right before dawn, but not before waking Brittany with a kiss to the temple or to the lips, whispering apologetically that she needed to get home before her parents woke up, but that she’d see her at school. And, most importantly, she’d kept her tongue loose when it came to terms of endearment, never hesitating to call Brittany “baby”, “sweetie”, or “honey.” She was careful about one thing, though. No I love you’s slipped through her lips, even in the throes of passion, even while hoping for exactly that from Brittany.
And it was working. Her hand was cramping from having their pinkies linked almost constantly. She utilized even that as an opportunity. Hand massages led to arm massages, which led to back massages, which led to quickies in the locker room during lunch.
Also, she was constantly, constantly, catching Brittany staring at her. The girl was smitten, and she knew things could only go up from here.
Speaking of things going up, Mike finally took Tina back. He was a forgiving soul by nature, and it was more than obvious by Tina’s avoidance of Artie that things were over between the exes. Santana didn’t hear about the reconciliation from Brittany, however. When the blonde spontaneously shoved her into the astronomy room for a midday make-out session-yet another sign that Santana’s plan was succeeding-the two stumbled upon the Asian duo rounding second base on top of Ms. Castle’s desk. Granted, there would be the brief snafu of Mike believing Tina was fantasizing about Coach Beiste-which made no sense for so many reasons-but Santana knew that this issue would resolve itself, so she didn’t feel compelled to interfere.
Finn and Rachel, on the other hand, seemed a little distant. Nah, I’m juggling enough balls as it is.
* * *
Puck was back. Santana delighted in how very little she thought about him since she’d traveled back. Her journey had started after Mr. Schue announced his absence, so for her it was months and months ago that Puck had been sent to juvie. She had been so focused on Brittany, she had no need to ponder his absence, in general and especially in bed.
Schuester was splitting the club up into guys and girls for the Mash-up Duel, Part Deux. Kurt again tried to defect to the girls’ team and again Will prevented him from doing so. Santana considered speaking on his behalf, but she debated whether it was worth it or the right thing to do. She’d already held her tongue concerning Dalton’s probable population of queer students, as much for her own sake as for Kurt’s. Also, in retrospect, not that funny of a joke. In the end, the moment passed, and Santana convinced herself that Kurt being on the boys’ team was a good thing. He was gay, not transsexual, so besides feeling a kinship with the ladies, he shouldn’t feel the need to identify himself as one.
The next day, when Mr. Schue announced each team would being doing a mash-up by opposite gender groups, she threw in her support. She told herself it was for Kurt’s sake, but she couldn’t deny she was looking forward to seeing Brittany in that leather outfit again. The first time around, they’d had extra-sexy fun with those costumes the night after their performance. Santana was intent on keeping that tradition, and maybe even outdoing herself.
But, like last time, those costumes were both a blessing and a curse. Right in the middle of assembling them, Puck and Artie walked (and rolled) in. Berry, in the exact same tone as last time, cried “SPIES!!!” Some things never changed. And one of them was Artie developing an interest in Brittany.
After Puck’s demeaning proposition, Santana was fully prepared to tell him to fuck off, but Brittany answered first.
“Sounds like fun,” she’d told Santana, her eyes focused on her and not the boys.
As soon as she recovered from her heart crashing into her stomach, Santana studied Brittany’s face, but the girl was being unusually inscrutable. It was a gamble either way, so Santana landed on the side of caution. “I never say no to a trip to Breadstix,” was her answer, a quote from a Santana from another time.
Puck yammered on for a little while-more misogynistic drivel probably; Santana wasn’t listening-and he escorted Artie out of the room.
“What was that about, B?”
Brittany replied, “You love Breadstix. You’re always saying we should never turn Puck down.” Her tone wasn’t completely honest, though.
“But with Artie?”
“I don’t see why not. He’s nice… for a robot. And I’m really excited to try eggplant parmesan ever since I wasn’t able grow eggplants in my backyard. My mom got mad because she couldn’t cook omelets one morning. Plus, he’s been sad ever since he broke up with Tina and I don’t want to hurt his feelings. Do robots have feelings?”
Santana was really tempted to tell her that robot-Artie didn’t have feelings, but if they were going to have dinner with him, there was too much risk of the lie backfiring. Santana reminded herself that Brittany thought of Artie as a complete stranger, at best a casual acquaintance. Like a mantra, she told herself: They have no history; in the race for Brittany’s heart you’re winning by a mile. But that begged the question, without Brittany approaching him first, how did Artie develop an interest in her? And why had destiny curved back around, setting up a double-date that Santana should have rendered impossible?
She decided to investigate with Puck. “So since when does Wheels have a woody for B?” she greeted him.
“I’m glad you’re happy to see me back from the Big House,” he replied. “And to answer your question, have you seen the girl? Every guy but Kurt in this school wants a slice of that.”
“Oh, I’ve seen her. I’ve seen more of her than you have, and more often, too.”
“Is that so?” Puck replied, in a sad attempt to be coy. The boy was dense if he thought her double entendre was unintentional.
“Okay, but why Brittany? How did she get on his radar?”
“That was me. I’m on probation, and Artie’s my community service. He’s still moping because Tina jumped onto the Oriental Express, so I figured, I get the guy laid; it’s service to the downtrodden. And the easiest way for that to happen is take him on a double date with the First Date Sorority.” Santana only barely resisted clawing his eyes out then and there. “Plus, a month in the slammer has given me a lethal case of blue balls.” He rubbed her lower back and Santana suppressed a cringe.
“I should be so lucky,” she muttered under her breath. “Look, you could’ve gotten plenty if you had been open to new experiences.”
“Ooh, saucy. Somebody missed the Puckzilla while he was gone.”
“You’d be surprised.”
Well, damn if that isn’t a perfectly fucking logical turn of events.
* * *
It was a preliminary strike, Santana reasoned. Before their double date with Puck and Artie, Santana asked Brittany to model her Bon Jovi outfit for her. When the blonde came out of her bedroom closet, clad completely in tight black leather that hugged every curve, she found that her best friend had a surprise for her. She had strut into the room like a runway model, only to encounter Santana lying on her bed, dressed in black leather, too, arms over her head, the chain belt tied around both wrists and through the slats of her headboard. While Brittany was getting her costume on, Santana had put on hers, too.
“Brittany, I think I’m stuck,” she explained with all the subtly of a 70s adult film actress.
Brittany took her statement at face value, giggled, promised not to tell anyone, and offered to help her get unstuck.
“We’ve got some time to kill. If you want to do something else before you untie me, that’s okay.”
Brittany thought for a minute, then daydreamed for a minute as her eyes raked in Santana’s vulnerable form, and noted, “This is just an idea, but since you’re tied up like how you sometimes tie me up, we could…”
“Yes, Brittany, let’s do that.”
She wasted no time in straddling Santana’s hips and rubbing her hands across the leather garments, providing the brunette with only the bare minimum of tactile stimulation.
In defiance of her past routine, Santana had taken to changing out of her uniform whenever she wasn’t at school, and prodded her best friend to do the same. Brittany’s normal sleepwear was a combination of the world’s tiniest pair of exercise shorts and a too-tight, too-short tank top, and Santana was not going to miss a second of that image. And in order to get Brittany equally enamored, she defined her pajamas as a pair of bikini-cut panties under an oversized, off-the-shoulder tee, the kind where the collar was loose enough to give a glimpse of her bare chest every time she leaned over. And it worked like a charm.
Leather seemed to have the same effect in getting Brittany in the mood, but it was thicker than cotton, and very tight, preventing friction of any kind. So she was glad when Brittany finally decided it was time to start unzipping zippers. The girl was a tease, though, deciding that her zippers came first, so Santana had to “suffer” through watching Brittany undress first. And since she never missed the opportunity to dance, she practiced some of the choreography from their upcoming performance.
Forty-five minutes later, the pair were running late for their double date.
“What should we wear?” Brittany asked from the shower.
Santana had finished drying off and was now ogling Brittany’s form through the frosted, beach-theme shower curtain and making mental plans for later. She replied, “We’ll put on our Cheerios uniforms. It’s what they’ll be expecting anyway.” For the double date, their prim polyester uniforms were a requirement. No-hawk and No-Legs weren’t getting the real thing; they got the façades.
* * *
Santana spent the majority of the night wishing her dinner knife were sharp enough to slice off Puck’s roaming hands. She could just imagine the slime that was now greasing her uniform. I’m going to need a shower after tonight.
Luckily, Puck was biding his time until he could get the Latina in bed, since he didn’t seem to care that Santana’s ear hadn’t absorbed a word he’d said that night. She remembered his dumb spiels about waffles and gang fights the first time around and felt less than zero need to hear them again. Instead, she glared across the table at Brittany flirting openly with Artie. She recognized the persona that Brittany had put on; it was the one Santana had taught her. Artie for the most part alternated between lavishing in and being conflicted by the attention. Every once in a while, he would put on the disinterested act after a glare from Puck.
Before she knew it, Puck was pushing them to dine-and-dash, and Santana panicked. In the intervening time, she’d learned how serious of a crime it was, and worse, that you could get banned from the restaurant you committed it against. But having spent the night trying to set Artie on fire with her mind, she hadn’t gotten to planning an exit strategy.
Artie lagged behind, paying for dinner, and Santana resolved to be 3 percent less snotty to him. Puck looked disgusted. Brittany just looked confused. I’ve got to undo the training that makes her think of service industry workers as lesser mortals. Then came Puck’s suggestion for a threesome, and Santana was ready with the headache excuse that had gotten them out of this jam from last time, but Brittany jumped in first, “Ooh, we’ve never done that before.” She sounded genuinely interested, enough to fool the dense Puck, but Santana could hear the falseness in her voice. She was also giving Santana a searching look.
Santana tried to decipher Brittany’s expression. She was definitely testing her, but it was impossible to read how she wanted her to respond. For the first time since Santana had traveled back, she was angry at her best friend. She had been worshipping her, body and soul, for the past month, and the girl was playing mind games with her. “Then let’s do it,” she answered, the venom in her voice carefully hidden.
Puck looked like he’d won the lottery, completely missing the silent conversation that had just occurred in front of him. The check now paid out of his own allowance, Artie glared at the three of them from the booth, his face only softening when Brittany smiled vacantly at him. He rolled off, saying he was going to call his dad to bring the family van. Puck shuffled the two girls out; whether he’d heard Artie or not was irrelevant.
He drove them to his house, speeding the entire time, while either pinching himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming or fondling himself openly in the front seat. Santana had pulled Brittany into the back seat and was not saying a word or looking at Brittany, but didn’t denying the hand she was offered.
The Puckermans’ house was empty. His mother was working the late shift and Puck explained that he’d dropped his sister off at Chuck E. Cheese’s so he wouldn’t have to babysit her. He practically raced to his room, with Santana drudging along like it was a death march, her hand gripping Brittany’s tightly.
Puck was literally pacing when the two Cheerios joined him in his room. “So, how do you want to do this?”
The reality of the situation finally struck Santana, so she worked fast. “Sit your ass down, Puckerman. Britts and I will start the show and invite you in when it’s time.” Which will be never. “Try not to blow your load.” Please do; it’ll make it easier on all of us.
By the rustling of clothing, Santana assumed Puck was quickly undressing. She directed Brittany to the bed into a kneeling position facing the footboard. She joined her friend, who was looking at Puck uncomfortably. Santana grabbed the girl’s face and embraced her with a deep, longing kiss, her tongue seeking access almost immediately.
Puck whooped at the display. “Shit, this is hot!”
This drew Brittany’s attention, but Santana reclaimed it with another intense make-out session. When Puck startled heckling for some clothes to be removed, Santana cringed and unzipped her top and threw it at him violently. Without asking, she did the same with Brittany’s, recapturing her in a kiss before the spell could be broken. As much as she tried to block him out, Puck was the elephant in the room, a noisy, lecherous elephant that was expecting to be allowed to trample in at any moment.
When Puck got too chatty, Santana pulled down her bra and unhooked Brittany’s to distract him. It didn’t work. “Ladies, the Puckzilla can’t wait any longer.” He hopped up from his chair and sniffed Santana’s hair, putting a hand on each of the girls’ shoulders. Santana cringed at the touch and she noticed Brittany did the same. Locking eyes with Brittany, Santana finally noticed the fear in her eyes, the tears that were building. She had wanted anything but this; she had wanted Santana to say no. And now she just wanted her protector to fix this. She turned to Puck, and in her typical biting tone, explained, “So, your greasy hands are totally throwing off my game. Change of plans.”
Puck’s face was in a glare in an instant. “You’re a goddamn tease, Lopez.”
“Shut your waffle hole, Cool Hand Luke. Maybe if you stop being such a whiny bitch, Britts and I can put on a good show for you instead.”
“Oh, please, I’ve got free Skinemax ever since I bullied that A/V kid with asthma.”
Santana pushed Brittany down on the bed, hiking up her skirt and slipping off the briefs underneath it. Brittany crossed her legs and twisted away, hiding herself from Puck. “Well, maybe I can upgrade your subscription.” She got on her hands and knees, spread Brittany’s legs, and lowered her head between her thighs. She looked up once at Brittany, who nodded subtly with a modicum of relief, shooting a quick wary glance in Puck’s direction. His eyes looked like they were going to drop back in his head, as he stumbled back into a sitting position at the foot of the bed with all the grace of a naked zombie.
Santana’s head disappeared between Brittany’s legs, and when the blonde’s strong legs closed around her head, she was only too happy to have them muffle Puck’s grunting. She had hoped that Puck would have a hair trigger after his forced period of abstinence, but the asshole had probably been jacking off like a mental patient to get his stamina back up. Instead, it looked like she was going to have to go through with her promise and she tried to block him out by distracting herself with pleasuring Brittany. At first the blonde was unusually quiet, but a pinch on the thigh and a whispered “Play it up” had Brittany, after a sour glare, mimicking a porn star.
Brittany’s moans and writhing were apparently enough to get Puck off, who swore at his poor pacing. Santana pulled up, causing Brittany to groan in frustration, and stated that they needed to switch positions. She pushed Brittany off the bed, put Puck in her place lying back, and pulled Brittany back in a kneeling position at the foot of the bed, where she joined her again. “Enjoy the rest of the show,” she told Puck, the last thing she planned on saying to him that night, if not forever.
Her hands grabbed two fistfuls of hair and crashed their lips together. Once Brittany started responding, she started rubbing her hands all over the girl’s now exposed body. She teased all the right areas, but didn’t take the show out of softcore porn territory. Before long, Puck’s drowsiness overtook him, and he began softly snoring with his hand resting on his groin. Santana sighed, covering Puck up with a sheet.
“You want to get out of here, and finish this right? You can sleep over at my place.” Brittany quickly agreed. “But I need a shower first,” Santana stated dully. Brittany just nodded vigorously, if not desperately.
Puck’s suburban neighborhood was only a quarter mile from Santana’s gated community, so the pair walked. Brittany offered her pinky, but Santana grabbed her whole hand, interlacing all their fingers, squeezing just a little too hard.
Author’s Note: In the original version, Santana and Brittany more or less went through with the threesome, but there were simply too many unfortunate implications, so I modified the ending a bit. Hopefully, I didn’t soften it too much. It was still pretty hard to write.
Chapter 6: The Spark That Sets It Off