Doing It Right (6/16)
Title: Doing It Right, Chapter 6: The Spark That Sets It Off, Part 1
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. After a dark chapter, she thinks she’s finally seeing the light.
Pairing: Santana/Brittany
Spoilers: 2x06 “Never Been Kissed” - 2x07 “The Substitute”
Author’s Note: After updating Chapter 5, this one need a rewrite, too. The rest of the series will remain on track.
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5
So here’s what you missed on Glee. Santana is using every tool in her toolkit to endear Brittany to her, all one of them. Puck’s back from juvie, and he’s ready to get back into the game with a double-date with Artie, Brittany, and Santana. Santana’s not happy, but Brittany gets them roped into the date, which almost ends with a threesome with Puck, but Santana stops it in the nick of time. Whew! That was a close one! And that’s what you missed on… Glee!
Santana had never wanted time to skip more than now. “You okay?” she asked Brittany as they headed toward her house.
“Yeah,” Brittany replied, her voice much lighter in tone than Santana’s, “That was weird. The way Puck talks about threesomes, I thought it’d seem like more fun. Thanks for… you know, stopping Puck. I was way too nervous.”
“What have I always said?”
“‘You can always say no. Always.’”
“That’s right. Though, as you could tell, it goes over better if you do it before the guy takes his pants off,” Santana tried to joke.
Not laughing, Brittany asked, “Why’d we even agree to that?”
“You’re the one who wanted to do it.”
“No, I just said we’d never done it before. You’re the one who agreed, so I went along with you.”
“Oh. I guess I just read you wrong.”
“No, you didn’t,” Brittany remarked meaningfully.
By the time they arrived at the Lopez residence, Santana’s family was already asleep, so she took Brittany down to her room and into the private bathroom. Without a word, she began stripping out of her uniform on the tile floor. Brittany nervously shifted her feet, averting her eyes.
“Brittany, you’ve seen this so many times you probably know it better than me. C’mon, join me, it’ll be faster.” It’ll be faster was the most transparent excuse in the history of coy excuses, and Santana made it all the more obvious by showing no subtly. Brittany half-smiled and started undressing, too.
Santana had a walk-in shower, just big enough for two people, and she was extremely thankful for it at this moment. The cascading water washed away the nervous tears that had built up, washed away the memory of the past two hours of embarrassment. All she cared about now was having Brittany’s slick skin flush against her own. She faced the wall, letting the spray cover her and Brittany. The girl was either completely clueless or totally empathic, because she didn’t try to talk to Santana; she just snaked her arms around the Latina’s waist and used her dexterous fingers to clear every thought from Santana’s mind.
After the shower, Santana pulled Brittany into her bedroom the moment the two were toweled off. Their hair was still moist; Santana couldn’t be bothered to let them blow-dry their hair, telling Brittany it would wake her brothers. It was obvious was she really needed. Brittany didn’t even get a chance to ask if they were going to put on pajamas because Santana attacked her, pressing their lips together, not even stopping to lock the door like usual, and took her into bed and…
Santana couldn’t deny what she had been doing all this time anymore. She was making love to Brittany, except she wasn’t saying the word. It made it feel wrong and dirty, like she was somehow taking advantage of her best friend. She loves me, she told herself, I love her. I’m not doing a damn thing wrong. Nothing about this could be wrong. This is beautiful. And I need it more than air right now.
For a moment, she was briefly able to amuse herself with the idea that all this intimacy might somehow ruin their honeymoon by sheer comparison. But then the implications of her imagining a honeymoon with Brittany sent a chill-a good but still frightening chill-down her spine.
* * *
Santana had never wanted time to skip more than now. She had woken up, or rather Brittany the early riser had woken her, and her mind immediately jumped back to the events of the previous night, the ones between the double date and bringing Brittany home. Humiliation wormed its way through her chest. She hated having these thoughts mar what should have been the perfect morning: she was naked, Brittany was naked, and they were together in bed. But they knew the rules; Santana’s whole family would be up, and while they respected her privacy, there was still a chance someone might venture down to check on her. The pair dressed in fresh uniforms; Santana always kept one of Brittany’s extras in her closet along with her own.
When Brittany showed up with Santana at the breakfast table, no one in the Lopez family batted an eye. Santana had used the “she misplaced her keys” excuse enough times that her family stopped feeling the need to ask. Mrs. Lopez offered to make Brittany something: a bowl of cereal, a muffin, or some fruit. (The woman could cook; but the mood had to strike her.)
Santana had never wanted time to skip more than now. In less than an hour, she would be walking through the hallways of McKinley with Brittany by her side, risking the dreaded possibility of running into Puck, and the day could just disappear for all she cared. Luckily for Santana and her mixed mood, once the time came, Puck was too preoccupied with having his “community service” application denied to mention the threesome to Santana.
* * *
Santana had never been more appreciative of a time skip. As she walked into Cheerios practice that afternoon, a day suddenly disappeared and she found herself sitting in glee next to Brittany watching the boys lined up in snazzy purple tuxedos. She scooted her chair closer so that their legs would touch. Brittany turned and smiled. Maybe that smile was saying, “Thank you for making us good again,” or maybe it was saying, “Hey, there, best friend; isn’t this fun?”
Unfortunately, she gave a delighted smile to Artie, too, as he rolled up and serenaded her. Puck was singing to Santana, looking extra appreciative, but she kept her expression neutral, giving him a small polite clap. His grin didn’t falter; he wouldn’t have reacted differently had she formed a heart with her hands, blown him a kiss, or flashed her breasts.
The boys finally consolidated their efforts, singing to Coach Beiste, and giving Santana the chance to reach her hand over to Brittany for some pinky-holding. She found that Brittany’s hand was already extended, waiting for the connection.
Thank you for making us good again.
* * *
Ms. Holiday was sliding into the room like an ice skater when Santana next became lucid. Wait, did I miss the opportunity to threaten Berry? I totally could have slithered out of Clown Lips’ grasp this time around!
“Wow, she’s really hot,” Brittany whispered in her ear, “Do you think she’s secretly a Barbie doll that came to life?”
Jealousy coiled inside of Santana, but she pushed it down. “I guess she is pretty hot, if you’re into tall, skinny blond chicks, like me,” she teased, giving Brittany a nudge and a wink, causing color to rush to her cheeks. “But be careful, B, she’s Mr. Schue’s age so I don’t want you getting another sub fired, especially one as cool as Ms. H.”
“How do you know her?”
Santana took a moment to get her bearings. Shit, she’s right. Ms. Holiday is a virtual stranger to me, not my trusted confidante, and not (yet) the person that helps me realize my feelings for you. “Kurt says she’s awesome. Plus, she’s wearing a skirt that would get me sent home. She can’t be all bad.” Brittany giggled.
Also, if maybe if I sic her on Mr. Schue, he won’t be such a sad sack around Miss Pillsbury. Plus, it’d be a nice thank you for all she’s done (or will do) for me.
Santana didn’t get a chance to get too far into the planning of Phase II of Mission: Tug-of-War because the blond substitute began singing the song Puck had suggested what would have been the other day. Granted, she was singing the clean version of it. As much as she wanted to relate to the kids, she apparently had just enough sense not to start screaming the F-word to a bunch of sixteen-year-olds. That didn’t stop Santana from singing the original chorus at Puck once everyone had lined up.
I see you drivin’ round town
With the girl I love and I’m like,
Fuck you!
She mouthed the obscenity, of course; she had just enough sense not to get herself suspended. But she sang the words with sincerity, giving Puck her most cutting bitch-face. It didn’t have the intended effect. If anyone was immune to her scowls by now, it was him, and he seemed to think she was flirting with him. I bet nothing short of castration is going to get him off my scent now, she mused.
* * *
Mr. Schue would recover from the monkey flu any day now and Santana still wasn’t sure how she was going to influence his meeting with Ms. Holiday so that the two would... connect sooner. She was finding it difficult to find time to plot, though. Even though she seemed to be lucid a greater percentage of the time, Cheerios activities were still dark zones, and Sue’s no-junk-food initiative was eating into her day. Santana had already dropped the Cheerios once without looking back, so it did occur to her to defect again. She had motive, too: her physical enhancements kept her off of Sylvester’s head Cheerio short list, but given the coach’s propensity for using Santana as a loyal minion in her schemes, she realized that she had earned at least part of her tacit forgiveness, not that Coach would ever admit she possessed such a trait, and would certainly deny even knowing the meaning of the word.
But she was in Cheerios with Brittany, so even those ten-second glances before practice were something she was not willing to forgo, especially as their relationship was recovering after the Rocky Horror embarrassment and Puck threesome fiasco.
Most of the club was infatuated with Ms. Holiday, fickly forgetting their devotion to Mr. Schue, but Santana didn’t judge; she was no better the first time around.
But the entire club wasn’t polarized. As Santana was confiscating the tray of tater tots from the lunchroom, Kurt was blabbering to Mercedes and Quinn about what a great pair Mr. Schue and Ms. Holiday would make (as co-directors, not as lovers the way Santana was envisioning) and she suddenly felt like she might have an unwitting ally in her matchmaking scheme. She regretted her plotting when Karofsky came up, grabbed the now-cool tray of tater tots from her, and dumped it over Kurt’s head. Everyone was slow to react. Quinn jumped up and started yelling at the slowly retreating, grinning Karofsky. Mercedes comforted Kurt with one hand while grabbing tots off the table with the other. Her divided attention caused Kurt to leap up and head out of the cafeteria. Santana chased him into the girls’ bathroom.
“He won’t follow me in here,” he explained without looking up. He seemed surprised by her presence, expecting either Mercedes or Quinn.
“Sorry about that. I shouldn’t have been loitering.”
“You two plan that?”
“Of course not,” Santana hissed more viciously than she intended, “Karofsky’s a jerk. Even I try to avoid that knuckle-dragger. You okay?”
“Physically, yeah; it’s not like tater tots are heavy or sharp or anything. A few grease stains,” he mentioned, examining his charcoal turtleneck. “Why is everyone in this town such a homophobe?”
“Hey, watch it, you start stereotyping people, and the Tea Partiers win.”
Kurt snickered. “I appreciate your apology, Santana. You’re not as bad as the rest of them,” he noted diplomatically.
It was a tempered compliment, but a compliment just the same, but Santana realized it was too late to push her luck. Maybe Kurt wasn’t going to be the ally she needed.
Part 2
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. After a dark chapter, she thinks she’s finally seeing the light.
Pairing: Santana/Brittany
Spoilers: 2x06 “Never Been Kissed” - 2x07 “The Substitute”
Author’s Note: After updating Chapter 5, this one need a rewrite, too. The rest of the series will remain on track.
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5
So here’s what you missed on Glee. Santana is using every tool in her toolkit to endear Brittany to her, all one of them. Puck’s back from juvie, and he’s ready to get back into the game with a double-date with Artie, Brittany, and Santana. Santana’s not happy, but Brittany gets them roped into the date, which almost ends with a threesome with Puck, but Santana stops it in the nick of time. Whew! That was a close one! And that’s what you missed on… Glee!
Santana had never wanted time to skip more than now. “You okay?” she asked Brittany as they headed toward her house.
“Yeah,” Brittany replied, her voice much lighter in tone than Santana’s, “That was weird. The way Puck talks about threesomes, I thought it’d seem like more fun. Thanks for… you know, stopping Puck. I was way too nervous.”
“What have I always said?”
“‘You can always say no. Always.’”
“That’s right. Though, as you could tell, it goes over better if you do it before the guy takes his pants off,” Santana tried to joke.
Not laughing, Brittany asked, “Why’d we even agree to that?”
“You’re the one who wanted to do it.”
“No, I just said we’d never done it before. You’re the one who agreed, so I went along with you.”
“Oh. I guess I just read you wrong.”
“No, you didn’t,” Brittany remarked meaningfully.
By the time they arrived at the Lopez residence, Santana’s family was already asleep, so she took Brittany down to her room and into the private bathroom. Without a word, she began stripping out of her uniform on the tile floor. Brittany nervously shifted her feet, averting her eyes.
“Brittany, you’ve seen this so many times you probably know it better than me. C’mon, join me, it’ll be faster.” It’ll be faster was the most transparent excuse in the history of coy excuses, and Santana made it all the more obvious by showing no subtly. Brittany half-smiled and started undressing, too.
Santana had a walk-in shower, just big enough for two people, and she was extremely thankful for it at this moment. The cascading water washed away the nervous tears that had built up, washed away the memory of the past two hours of embarrassment. All she cared about now was having Brittany’s slick skin flush against her own. She faced the wall, letting the spray cover her and Brittany. The girl was either completely clueless or totally empathic, because she didn’t try to talk to Santana; she just snaked her arms around the Latina’s waist and used her dexterous fingers to clear every thought from Santana’s mind.
After the shower, Santana pulled Brittany into her bedroom the moment the two were toweled off. Their hair was still moist; Santana couldn’t be bothered to let them blow-dry their hair, telling Brittany it would wake her brothers. It was obvious was she really needed. Brittany didn’t even get a chance to ask if they were going to put on pajamas because Santana attacked her, pressing their lips together, not even stopping to lock the door like usual, and took her into bed and…
Santana couldn’t deny what she had been doing all this time anymore. She was making love to Brittany, except she wasn’t saying the word. It made it feel wrong and dirty, like she was somehow taking advantage of her best friend. She loves me, she told herself, I love her. I’m not doing a damn thing wrong. Nothing about this could be wrong. This is beautiful. And I need it more than air right now.
For a moment, she was briefly able to amuse herself with the idea that all this intimacy might somehow ruin their honeymoon by sheer comparison. But then the implications of her imagining a honeymoon with Brittany sent a chill-a good but still frightening chill-down her spine.
* * *
Santana had never wanted time to skip more than now. She had woken up, or rather Brittany the early riser had woken her, and her mind immediately jumped back to the events of the previous night, the ones between the double date and bringing Brittany home. Humiliation wormed its way through her chest. She hated having these thoughts mar what should have been the perfect morning: she was naked, Brittany was naked, and they were together in bed. But they knew the rules; Santana’s whole family would be up, and while they respected her privacy, there was still a chance someone might venture down to check on her. The pair dressed in fresh uniforms; Santana always kept one of Brittany’s extras in her closet along with her own.
When Brittany showed up with Santana at the breakfast table, no one in the Lopez family batted an eye. Santana had used the “she misplaced her keys” excuse enough times that her family stopped feeling the need to ask. Mrs. Lopez offered to make Brittany something: a bowl of cereal, a muffin, or some fruit. (The woman could cook; but the mood had to strike her.)
Santana had never wanted time to skip more than now. In less than an hour, she would be walking through the hallways of McKinley with Brittany by her side, risking the dreaded possibility of running into Puck, and the day could just disappear for all she cared. Luckily for Santana and her mixed mood, once the time came, Puck was too preoccupied with having his “community service” application denied to mention the threesome to Santana.
* * *
Santana had never been more appreciative of a time skip. As she walked into Cheerios practice that afternoon, a day suddenly disappeared and she found herself sitting in glee next to Brittany watching the boys lined up in snazzy purple tuxedos. She scooted her chair closer so that their legs would touch. Brittany turned and smiled. Maybe that smile was saying, “Thank you for making us good again,” or maybe it was saying, “Hey, there, best friend; isn’t this fun?”
Unfortunately, she gave a delighted smile to Artie, too, as he rolled up and serenaded her. Puck was singing to Santana, looking extra appreciative, but she kept her expression neutral, giving him a small polite clap. His grin didn’t falter; he wouldn’t have reacted differently had she formed a heart with her hands, blown him a kiss, or flashed her breasts.
The boys finally consolidated their efforts, singing to Coach Beiste, and giving Santana the chance to reach her hand over to Brittany for some pinky-holding. She found that Brittany’s hand was already extended, waiting for the connection.
Thank you for making us good again.
* * *
Ms. Holiday was sliding into the room like an ice skater when Santana next became lucid. Wait, did I miss the opportunity to threaten Berry? I totally could have slithered out of Clown Lips’ grasp this time around!
“Wow, she’s really hot,” Brittany whispered in her ear, “Do you think she’s secretly a Barbie doll that came to life?”
Jealousy coiled inside of Santana, but she pushed it down. “I guess she is pretty hot, if you’re into tall, skinny blond chicks, like me,” she teased, giving Brittany a nudge and a wink, causing color to rush to her cheeks. “But be careful, B, she’s Mr. Schue’s age so I don’t want you getting another sub fired, especially one as cool as Ms. H.”
“How do you know her?”
Santana took a moment to get her bearings. Shit, she’s right. Ms. Holiday is a virtual stranger to me, not my trusted confidante, and not (yet) the person that helps me realize my feelings for you. “Kurt says she’s awesome. Plus, she’s wearing a skirt that would get me sent home. She can’t be all bad.” Brittany giggled.
Also, if maybe if I sic her on Mr. Schue, he won’t be such a sad sack around Miss Pillsbury. Plus, it’d be a nice thank you for all she’s done (or will do) for me.
Santana didn’t get a chance to get too far into the planning of Phase II of Mission: Tug-of-War because the blond substitute began singing the song Puck had suggested what would have been the other day. Granted, she was singing the clean version of it. As much as she wanted to relate to the kids, she apparently had just enough sense not to start screaming the F-word to a bunch of sixteen-year-olds. That didn’t stop Santana from singing the original chorus at Puck once everyone had lined up.
I see you drivin’ round town
With the girl I love and I’m like,
Fuck you!
She mouthed the obscenity, of course; she had just enough sense not to get herself suspended. But she sang the words with sincerity, giving Puck her most cutting bitch-face. It didn’t have the intended effect. If anyone was immune to her scowls by now, it was him, and he seemed to think she was flirting with him. I bet nothing short of castration is going to get him off my scent now, she mused.
* * *
Mr. Schue would recover from the monkey flu any day now and Santana still wasn’t sure how she was going to influence his meeting with Ms. Holiday so that the two would... connect sooner. She was finding it difficult to find time to plot, though. Even though she seemed to be lucid a greater percentage of the time, Cheerios activities were still dark zones, and Sue’s no-junk-food initiative was eating into her day. Santana had already dropped the Cheerios once without looking back, so it did occur to her to defect again. She had motive, too: her physical enhancements kept her off of Sylvester’s head Cheerio short list, but given the coach’s propensity for using Santana as a loyal minion in her schemes, she realized that she had earned at least part of her tacit forgiveness, not that Coach would ever admit she possessed such a trait, and would certainly deny even knowing the meaning of the word.
But she was in Cheerios with Brittany, so even those ten-second glances before practice were something she was not willing to forgo, especially as their relationship was recovering after the Rocky Horror embarrassment and Puck threesome fiasco.
Most of the club was infatuated with Ms. Holiday, fickly forgetting their devotion to Mr. Schue, but Santana didn’t judge; she was no better the first time around.
But the entire club wasn’t polarized. As Santana was confiscating the tray of tater tots from the lunchroom, Kurt was blabbering to Mercedes and Quinn about what a great pair Mr. Schue and Ms. Holiday would make (as co-directors, not as lovers the way Santana was envisioning) and she suddenly felt like she might have an unwitting ally in her matchmaking scheme. She regretted her plotting when Karofsky came up, grabbed the now-cool tray of tater tots from her, and dumped it over Kurt’s head. Everyone was slow to react. Quinn jumped up and started yelling at the slowly retreating, grinning Karofsky. Mercedes comforted Kurt with one hand while grabbing tots off the table with the other. Her divided attention caused Kurt to leap up and head out of the cafeteria. Santana chased him into the girls’ bathroom.
“He won’t follow me in here,” he explained without looking up. He seemed surprised by her presence, expecting either Mercedes or Quinn.
“Sorry about that. I shouldn’t have been loitering.”
“You two plan that?”
“Of course not,” Santana hissed more viciously than she intended, “Karofsky’s a jerk. Even I try to avoid that knuckle-dragger. You okay?”
“Physically, yeah; it’s not like tater tots are heavy or sharp or anything. A few grease stains,” he mentioned, examining his charcoal turtleneck. “Why is everyone in this town such a homophobe?”
“Hey, watch it, you start stereotyping people, and the Tea Partiers win.”
Kurt snickered. “I appreciate your apology, Santana. You’re not as bad as the rest of them,” he noted diplomatically.
It was a tempered compliment, but a compliment just the same, but Santana realized it was too late to push her luck. Maybe Kurt wasn’t going to be the ally she needed.
Part 2