Fixing the Plumbing, Chapter 3
Title: Fixing the Plumbing
Pairing: Santana/Brittany
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Santana said it’s not cheating if the plumbing is different. So Brittany decided that if the plumbing is really different, then it’s really not cheating. So Brett ended up taking Santana out.
Spoilers: Through Original Song
Being Brett was easier than Brittany had expected it would be. She'd thought it would be really hard to convince people of Brett's guy-ness simply because he was in the body of a girl. A girl dressed up as a guy, but still...there were those problems Brittany had mentioned to Santana, namely the hair and the way she walked and how she still had boobs even if they were squished down (and that started to hurt after a while, Brittany had noticed).
But to her surprise, not too many people questioned her. Not when she went in (dressed as herself, this time) to the costume shop the next day to buy Brett some hair, and not - even more surprising - when she walked into Breadstix with Santana on Saturday night.
Brett was beaming a brilliant Brittany smile as the hostess took them to a table, and it didn't go away until their waitress came with menus and it took all of Brett and Britt's focus to go through it even though she'd seen it all a hundred times.
Santana, across the table, didn't even bother with the menu. She was already busy eating breadsticks, and Brittany wondered if she'd even order a meal. It wouldn't be the first time she ate just breadsticks for dinner, anyway, but this was supposed to be a date, like with real food, not just breadsticks, so Brett cleared his throat and asked, "What are you gonna get?"
Santana, half-eaten breadstick in hand, gave him a Look. "I'ma eat my breadsticks until I don't want any more, and that might be a while," she said, raising an eyebrow and gesturing with the breadstick in a way that could be perceived as threatening. "You got a problem with that?"
"Uh, no, it's just we're on a date and there's supposed to be, y’know, food and stuff." Though Brittany wouldn't really have thought to, Brett added in a light tone, "You got a problem with that?"
And Santana laughed and Brett grinned and Brittany, inside, was congratulating him on a good comeback.
"Let's share something then, blondie," Santana said, opening the menu she'd been ignoring. "Spaghetti and meatballs?"
Britt shook Brett's head, and miraculously the short blonde wig (a glance in the mirror earlier told her Brett looked remarkably like Sam, but without the trouty mouth) stayed right where she'd fixed it. "Too Lady and the Tramp," Brett replied, and Brittany tried not to frown at the memory of the time she was left alone in Breadstix with a plate of spaghetti and meatballs, pushing a meatball across the plate to nobody instead of being there with Santana or Artie or even some random football guy. She'd told Santana about it later, of course, and Santana had sent her a text that said "I'm sorry Britt-Britt xx" that had nearly made Brittany cry because it was so sweet and because she knew she was just about the only person Santana apologized to...but she also knew how hard it was for her to do so, and that made it all the more special when the apologies came.
Brittany could tell from the sad look in Santana's eyes that she remembered, made even more obvious as she reached across the table to grab Brittany's hand and give it a squeeze. Britt's first instinct was to link their pinkies, but Santana put on her Serious Face and shook her head, pulling her hand away, and suddenly Brittany remembered where they were and what she looked like and she screwed her face up. "Sorry."
"Don't worry about it. How about some fettuccini alfredo? Creamy goodness."
Brett's face crinkled in confusion. "You hate alfredo."
"Yeah but you don't know that," she replied with a significant glance at Brittany's chest (Britt herself looked down and saw nothing but something that looked like man-pecs and ohhh Santana meant Brett).
"Maybe I - " she licked her lips and tried again. "Maybe Brittany told me you don't like alfredo. I don't want this to be one of your bad dates where you sit and glare at the guy and don't eat. I mean, usually on those dates it's 'cause you're out with me - I mean Brittany too and that way it's easy to ignore some guy, but that's not like this, you know?"
Santana's face went all soft for about half a second before she put back on her normal angry face and raised a challenging eyebrow. "So you think you're hot shit, huh, 'cause I'm actually paying attention?"
Brittany cocked her head to one side and Brett said, "Well, yeah. I mean I got you here and you haven't said a single mean thing the whole time. But then maybe that means you're bored, if you're not even invested enough to say mean stuff like you always do to guys." She paused, brow furrowed, and said, "Why do you do that, anyway?" But as soon as the words were out of Brett's mouth Britt pulled another face, her mind showing her a vivid replay of that day in the hallway: “I’m angry because I have all these feelings. Feelings for you…” So she looked down at the table. "Sorry, I shouldn't have asked you that."
In that moment, Santana's walls shot up; her eyes shuttered and she became the mean girl everyone thought her to be, the mean girl Brittany knew she wasn't underneath it all but who she was to most people, and definitely to the world at large and who she had no reason not to be with Brittany’s twin who, up until now, she had never met. “No, you shouldn’t have asked me that,” she snapped, leaning back in the booth, folding her arms over her chest and glaring across the table-but not at Brittany. She wouldn’t even look at Brittany.
Obviously this was a sore subject, and Brittany wished she hadn’t brought it up at all. Sure she needed a lot of help at school, but she was smart in some ways - smart when it came to reading people, mostly, and especially when it came to reading Santana. She could tell when her friend was happy, or sad, or angry (and right now she was definitely sad and angry, and maybe even a little afraid judging from the way she was pointedly not looking at Brittany), and she knew the best way to deal with each of those moods most of the time. Of course, that didn’t stop her from trying to push it sometimes, from trying to push Santana sometimes, to get her to open up or to be nice or to do things Brittany knew nobody else could ever get her to do, but she cared for the other girl, she really did. Cared for her so much she had squished her boobs down (and she was honestly worried that if she did that for too long, one time she’d take off the bandage and they wouldn’t un-squish) and she was all dressed up like someone else because she just wanted to be close to her. Even if being close meant hearing Santana snap at her for the choices she’d made.
“I’m sorry,” Brett replied softly, though it was Britt looking out of those blue eyes, searching Santana’s face for acceptance of her apology, but she didn’t find it. Santana just looked down at the table, taking deep breaths, and Brittany sighed. “This was a bad idea,” Brett said, sliding out of the booth and standing up, holding out a hand to help Santana up. “I should just take you home -"
Santana's eyes snapped onto Brittany's, and this time there was no mistaking the angry determination in those brown depths. "Sit the hell down, fly boy. You're not gettin' off so easy."
Brittany stared for a moment, but then let her hand drop back to her side, and Brett slid back into the seat he’d vacated moments ago, staring across the table at Santana. "What do you want, Santana?" Brittany asked, with her own voice, and Santana licked her lips, staring back.
"Way too much," she replied, and the honesty surprised Brittany. It wasn't like Santana to give in so easily. When feelings came up, she was an expert at diversion, at taking your mind off the original question, but then that had usually happened when they were alone in one of their rooms together and then it was way easy for Santana to distract her, just by kissing her or whatever.
But not this time. They weren’t alone; they were in public, and really that made Brittany wonder even more why Santana had answered her outright, but hey, she wasn’t gonna let it get her down or anything. She was surprised, yes, but she wasn’t out of the game yet.
“Me too,” she replied instead, her lips quirking in a small smile. Then she dropped her voice again, straightened in her seat, and folded her arms on the edge of the table, leaning forward slightly. “But that’s what I’m here for, y’know?” Brett added.
“No, I really don’t,” Santana replied, shaking her head. After a moment of consideration, Brittany concluded that meant she had only said yes to this in the first place because it had been Brittany asking and because Santana could never say no when Brittany asked, especially when she asked for the same thing more than once.
“I’ll explain later, I promise,” Brett said, and Santana sighed and shifted in her seat and Brittany could feel her foot graze her leg, letting her know she’d crossed her legs under the table.
“Alright. But you owe me a hell of a chat, Ken.”
Brett’s brow furrowed, and the confusion evident on his face made Santana laugh that marvelous laugh that always made Brittany smile, without fail, as it did now. “Brittany’s kind of like a Barbie doll…” she prompted.
After a long pause, Brett let out a low “Ohhhh. And we go together so that makes me Ken.”
“You got it,” Santana replied, reaching for another breadstick, and Brittany started to laugh, well, giggle, really, which meant that she had to cough to try and cover it as she realized that didn’t sound like guy laughter at all. And that set Santana to laughing, and Brittany had to bite her lip and look down at the table to smother an answering laugh, and then when she’d finally swallowed the giggles down she looked back up at Santana and there was such warmth, such caring there in those eyes that she felt herself melt a little inside and she knew, without a doubt, that this was going to be okay even if she was kind of bad at the whole acting thing. It didn’t matter - this was about being with Santana, and it was just like it ought to be, with them laughing together like they always did, just…enjoying each other’s company.
Yeah - even if she was a horrible dude that was okay.
* * * * *
For a date, it ended up being not half bad. They shared an order of Chicken Parmesan, and as usual Brittany ended up eating most of the pasta and Santana most of the chicken, and Santana took control of the conversation; Santana asked her to tell stories about Brett’s life at boarding school, and then she shared some of her favorite stories about things the two of them (Santana and Brittany, of course) had gotten up to, though she left out the sweet lady kisses. And they didn't talk any more about Santana being angry and mean or about what they wanted or why Brittany was doing this, even though sometimes Brittany saw the questioning look on Santana's face and knew she was wondering.
They made it through dinner and a slice of chocolate cake with only one more moment of Brittany failing miserably at acting like a guy, and Santana didn't protest when Brett paid for dinner (actually she didn't even reach for the check, but then this was supposed to be a normal date and Santana never paid when she went out with guys so Brittany wasn't too surprised). Really, it was a good time, and Brittany's face hurt from smiling so much by the time they left, which she didn't notice until they were on the way back to the car and that actually made her sort of sad because she couldn't remember the last time she'd been this happy. Never with Artie, she did know that.
And since she was Brittany, and she had no brain to mouth filter, that was the first thing that came out of her mouth as she started driving towards Lima Heights. "I don't remember the last time I was so happy. Thank you, Santana." She glanced toward the brunette, who looked back at her with a small smile, but if her expression changed Brittany didn't see it because she had to focus on the road.
"Me neither, Britt-Britt," she replied, and Brittany thought she heard sadness in her voice. When she glanced back, though, Santana had turned her head away and was staring out the window, so she couldn’t see her face really.
They were silent for a while as Brittany drove back to Santana’s house (it wasn’t that far a drive). Santana started singing along softly with the radio, and Brittany smiled as she listened to her voice. She wanted to comment, to tell Santana she had a beautiful voice like she had a hundred times before, but for some reason the words stuck in her mouth like peanut butter and she found herself swallowing them back down instead, and it was just as hard as swallowing peanut butter that was stuck to your teeth.
Finally they pulled up in front of Santana’s house and Brittany killed the engine, sitting quietly, turning to look at Santana. “So we should talk, right?” she asked.
With a soft sigh, Santana turned her head, glancing at Brittany’s face before staring out the windshield, avoiding looking at Brittany and working her jaw in the way that meant she was scared. “Yeah, we should.”
But she didn’t say anything else, and so Brittany frowned. “What did you want to talk about?” she asked, though she knew the answer. Maybe if she asked and was blunt and did her Brittany thing, Santana would give in and answer…but Santana kept staring out the windshield and Brittany huffed, letting her hands drop from the steering wheel. “C’mon, talk to me, please.”
And with a sigh, Santana turned to look at her, wary and afraid and maybe a little sad too. “What are you doing, Britt-Britt? What is this about, anyway?”
“I want to be with you,” she replied, turning in her seat to face Santana, pushing some of Brett’s blonde bangs out of her face. “I do, but I can’t just leave Artie, it’d kill him. And he had me first, so I can’t just-”
“Had you first?” Santana cried. “Are you freakin’ kidding me? I had you first. I’ve always had you first. You were my best friend, you know that? And then you got with Robocop and left me out to dry. You don’t get to just pick me up whenever you want me. It’s not like that.”
“Santana-” Brittany started, reaching out to touch her arm, but Santana pulled away, shaking her head.
“No! I’m not a toy, Brittany. I have fucking feelings,” she said, and the way she said feelings was so painful-it brought back every time Brittany had pleaded with her to talk about those same feelings, and the time that she had, and how it had all come crashing down from there. All because of the feelings Santana was talking about, using them to cut Brittany down. “And I trusted you, you know that? I trusted you with them and you went and broke my heart again, and again-and you didn’t even know, like you never know, because you’re so oblivious all the time, up in la la land where nothing really matters but sunshine and puppies and guess what-the world’s not like that.”
“Santana, please-” Brittany tried again, feeling something in her coming undone, feeling her eyes burning, feeling her stomach twisting up on itself and the noodles she’d eaten threatening to come back up.
But Santana was on a roll and there seemed to be no stopping her now. “What do think this is? Life isn’t a Katy Perry song. It’s not okay for you to run hot and cold on me. I won’t take it.”
“I’m not hot and cold, I promise. I wanted to do this so you could have a way to have me too. It’s like you said, it’s not cheating if the plumbing is different, and I don’t want to be a cheater so if the plumbing is different then it’s okay-”
Then she laughed. Santana laughed, loud and harsh in Brittany’s face, and the tears that she’d felt in her eyes a moment before came rushing out all at once like a waterfall and it seemed like there was no stopping it and she was just crying, crying…
The laughter stopped and Brittany could see through the blurry spots in her eyes that Santana actually did feel bad. But she was obviously staying in her seat, and she was carefully not looking at Brittany again.
“You’re just gonna sit there after you made me cry?” Brittany choked out, and Santana’s breath hitched in the silence of the car.
“I’m not going to apologize for telling the truth,” she replied, her voice still hard but her face showing she was close to breaking and apologizing anyway.
They sat for a little while longer, the only noise Brittany’s quiet sniffles until Brittany finally pulled herself together enough to ask a question she thought Santana wouldn’t respond to with anger. “If you’re so mad at me, why did you say yes to this?”
A sigh. “Because you’re Brittany and I can’t say no to you, no matter how much I want to.”
And if that was true, it was because what she’d said before was true, about loving her and wanting to be with her, and that was enough for Brittany. “I know I’m kind of clueless sometimes but I know how much you mean to me.”
“You have a funny way of showing it,” Santana snapped, and Brittany sniffled and had to push Brett’s hair out of her eyes again so that she could wipe the tears away.
“This is the best I can do right now,” Brittany replied softly, wiping her wet hands on Brett’s jeans. “I know it’s not what you want but it’s what I can give, and I need you to say yes. I need it like I need candy.” And that was saying something.
More silence from Santana, who was once again avoiding looking at Brittany. “Please say yes,” Brittany whispered, knowing this was an interesting switch since so recently it was Santana begging her to say yes, say that she loved her too. And now Brittany was asking for it, and Santana…
“Please,” she added again, and Santana cracked, looking back at Brittany with her own tears on her face.
“Yes,” she whispered back, and Brittany held out her pinkie again and Santana looked at it, laughed a little through her tears, and grabbed hold. “Yes,” she said again, stronger this time, and Brittany could breathe again, leaning forward to mash her lips to Santana’s. It took a second, but she responded, reaching up with her free hand to thread her fingers into Brittany’s hair, only to find her bare neck and break the kiss. “You know how weird this is for me, right?”
Brittany blinked. “What?”
“It’s like being with someone else. I mean you don’t have your hair or your boobs and you don’t even talk like you.”
“Well that was kind of the point…”
“Shut up and kiss me.” And with that, Santana tugged on Brett’s hair and pressed their lips together again and it was almost like they were on a real date, making out in the car afterward before Santana went inside. And that feeling spread all kinds of warmth through Britt’s body and by the time Santana pulled away Brittany felt like she was swimming in warm honey, all sweet and sticky and golden. “If you keep taking me out like this,” Santana said against Brittany’s lips, smoothing the wig, pushing hair out of Brittany’s face, “They’ll be dying to meet Brett by the end of next week.”
Brittany just smiled. “You’re so nice.”
“Yeah, well don’t get too used to it.” And she leaned in and pressed another soft kiss to Britt’s lips, leaving Brittany smiling. “I might have to be mean to you just so people won’t be suspicious. I’m mean to all the guys I date.”
With a nod, Brittany pulled away. “I know. But you’re always nice to me, and I love that about you.”
Santana’s lips turned up in a small smile. “That’s ‘cause you’re so sweet,” she said, and then they were kissing again and Brittany was getting warm all over again, and she couldn’t help but wonder if this meant they were getting their sweet lady kisses on, if things were almost back to normal, or if this was just how it was going to be for now. But Santana’s kisses distracted her and she forgot what she was thinking about except Santana’s lips on hers and Santana’s tongue in her mouth and how much she wanted to take off the bandage around her chest.
But then Santana pulled away suddenly, wearing her “I’m about to do something sexy and evil” smirk. “See you around, Ken,” she said, patting Brittany’s cheek and opening the car door, sliding out.
“Wait!” Brittany called, and Santana stopped, looking sly as she turned back to face her.
“What?”
“Can I see you tomorrow?”
Santana shook her head. “Monday. If you wanna do this you’ve gotta see Artie at least sometimes.”
“Oh,” Britt replied. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“That’s what I’m here for,” she said, smirking again. “Later, Britt-Britt.”
Brittany sat in the car and watched Santana walk up to her door, hips swaying, diverting Brittany’s attention to that warm sticky feeling from earlier and how Santana always made her feel that way and how they hadn’t ended up having sex, which was kind of sad because she’d hoped that would be part of this whole deal, especially since sex wasn’t dating and Santana wasn’t dating Brett. But regardless, Santana left her all warm and wanting and Brittany knew her face was flushed but she didn’t care. She’d taken her best friend out like she’d wanted to do, like she had been wanting to do…yeah there had been a few hiccups, and it was pretty obvious there were things she still needed to work out and that Santana needed to work out, too, but she’d gotten what she wanted, and the disguise was playing its part. Maybe Santana was right, and it was kind of weird, but Brittany wasn’t about to complain, because if nothing else, it was working.
Pairing: Santana/Brittany
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Santana said it’s not cheating if the plumbing is different. So Brittany decided that if the plumbing is really different, then it’s really not cheating. So Brett ended up taking Santana out.
Spoilers: Through Original Song
Being Brett was easier than Brittany had expected it would be. She'd thought it would be really hard to convince people of Brett's guy-ness simply because he was in the body of a girl. A girl dressed up as a guy, but still...there were those problems Brittany had mentioned to Santana, namely the hair and the way she walked and how she still had boobs even if they were squished down (and that started to hurt after a while, Brittany had noticed).
But to her surprise, not too many people questioned her. Not when she went in (dressed as herself, this time) to the costume shop the next day to buy Brett some hair, and not - even more surprising - when she walked into Breadstix with Santana on Saturday night.
Brett was beaming a brilliant Brittany smile as the hostess took them to a table, and it didn't go away until their waitress came with menus and it took all of Brett and Britt's focus to go through it even though she'd seen it all a hundred times.
Santana, across the table, didn't even bother with the menu. She was already busy eating breadsticks, and Brittany wondered if she'd even order a meal. It wouldn't be the first time she ate just breadsticks for dinner, anyway, but this was supposed to be a date, like with real food, not just breadsticks, so Brett cleared his throat and asked, "What are you gonna get?"
Santana, half-eaten breadstick in hand, gave him a Look. "I'ma eat my breadsticks until I don't want any more, and that might be a while," she said, raising an eyebrow and gesturing with the breadstick in a way that could be perceived as threatening. "You got a problem with that?"
"Uh, no, it's just we're on a date and there's supposed to be, y’know, food and stuff." Though Brittany wouldn't really have thought to, Brett added in a light tone, "You got a problem with that?"
And Santana laughed and Brett grinned and Brittany, inside, was congratulating him on a good comeback.
"Let's share something then, blondie," Santana said, opening the menu she'd been ignoring. "Spaghetti and meatballs?"
Britt shook Brett's head, and miraculously the short blonde wig (a glance in the mirror earlier told her Brett looked remarkably like Sam, but without the trouty mouth) stayed right where she'd fixed it. "Too Lady and the Tramp," Brett replied, and Brittany tried not to frown at the memory of the time she was left alone in Breadstix with a plate of spaghetti and meatballs, pushing a meatball across the plate to nobody instead of being there with Santana or Artie or even some random football guy. She'd told Santana about it later, of course, and Santana had sent her a text that said "I'm sorry Britt-Britt xx" that had nearly made Brittany cry because it was so sweet and because she knew she was just about the only person Santana apologized to...but she also knew how hard it was for her to do so, and that made it all the more special when the apologies came.
Brittany could tell from the sad look in Santana's eyes that she remembered, made even more obvious as she reached across the table to grab Brittany's hand and give it a squeeze. Britt's first instinct was to link their pinkies, but Santana put on her Serious Face and shook her head, pulling her hand away, and suddenly Brittany remembered where they were and what she looked like and she screwed her face up. "Sorry."
"Don't worry about it. How about some fettuccini alfredo? Creamy goodness."
Brett's face crinkled in confusion. "You hate alfredo."
"Yeah but you don't know that," she replied with a significant glance at Brittany's chest (Britt herself looked down and saw nothing but something that looked like man-pecs and ohhh Santana meant Brett).
"Maybe I - " she licked her lips and tried again. "Maybe Brittany told me you don't like alfredo. I don't want this to be one of your bad dates where you sit and glare at the guy and don't eat. I mean, usually on those dates it's 'cause you're out with me - I mean Brittany too and that way it's easy to ignore some guy, but that's not like this, you know?"
Santana's face went all soft for about half a second before she put back on her normal angry face and raised a challenging eyebrow. "So you think you're hot shit, huh, 'cause I'm actually paying attention?"
Brittany cocked her head to one side and Brett said, "Well, yeah. I mean I got you here and you haven't said a single mean thing the whole time. But then maybe that means you're bored, if you're not even invested enough to say mean stuff like you always do to guys." She paused, brow furrowed, and said, "Why do you do that, anyway?" But as soon as the words were out of Brett's mouth Britt pulled another face, her mind showing her a vivid replay of that day in the hallway: “I’m angry because I have all these feelings. Feelings for you…” So she looked down at the table. "Sorry, I shouldn't have asked you that."
In that moment, Santana's walls shot up; her eyes shuttered and she became the mean girl everyone thought her to be, the mean girl Brittany knew she wasn't underneath it all but who she was to most people, and definitely to the world at large and who she had no reason not to be with Brittany’s twin who, up until now, she had never met. “No, you shouldn’t have asked me that,” she snapped, leaning back in the booth, folding her arms over her chest and glaring across the table-but not at Brittany. She wouldn’t even look at Brittany.
Obviously this was a sore subject, and Brittany wished she hadn’t brought it up at all. Sure she needed a lot of help at school, but she was smart in some ways - smart when it came to reading people, mostly, and especially when it came to reading Santana. She could tell when her friend was happy, or sad, or angry (and right now she was definitely sad and angry, and maybe even a little afraid judging from the way she was pointedly not looking at Brittany), and she knew the best way to deal with each of those moods most of the time. Of course, that didn’t stop her from trying to push it sometimes, from trying to push Santana sometimes, to get her to open up or to be nice or to do things Brittany knew nobody else could ever get her to do, but she cared for the other girl, she really did. Cared for her so much she had squished her boobs down (and she was honestly worried that if she did that for too long, one time she’d take off the bandage and they wouldn’t un-squish) and she was all dressed up like someone else because she just wanted to be close to her. Even if being close meant hearing Santana snap at her for the choices she’d made.
“I’m sorry,” Brett replied softly, though it was Britt looking out of those blue eyes, searching Santana’s face for acceptance of her apology, but she didn’t find it. Santana just looked down at the table, taking deep breaths, and Brittany sighed. “This was a bad idea,” Brett said, sliding out of the booth and standing up, holding out a hand to help Santana up. “I should just take you home -"
Santana's eyes snapped onto Brittany's, and this time there was no mistaking the angry determination in those brown depths. "Sit the hell down, fly boy. You're not gettin' off so easy."
Brittany stared for a moment, but then let her hand drop back to her side, and Brett slid back into the seat he’d vacated moments ago, staring across the table at Santana. "What do you want, Santana?" Brittany asked, with her own voice, and Santana licked her lips, staring back.
"Way too much," she replied, and the honesty surprised Brittany. It wasn't like Santana to give in so easily. When feelings came up, she was an expert at diversion, at taking your mind off the original question, but then that had usually happened when they were alone in one of their rooms together and then it was way easy for Santana to distract her, just by kissing her or whatever.
But not this time. They weren’t alone; they were in public, and really that made Brittany wonder even more why Santana had answered her outright, but hey, she wasn’t gonna let it get her down or anything. She was surprised, yes, but she wasn’t out of the game yet.
“Me too,” she replied instead, her lips quirking in a small smile. Then she dropped her voice again, straightened in her seat, and folded her arms on the edge of the table, leaning forward slightly. “But that’s what I’m here for, y’know?” Brett added.
“No, I really don’t,” Santana replied, shaking her head. After a moment of consideration, Brittany concluded that meant she had only said yes to this in the first place because it had been Brittany asking and because Santana could never say no when Brittany asked, especially when she asked for the same thing more than once.
“I’ll explain later, I promise,” Brett said, and Santana sighed and shifted in her seat and Brittany could feel her foot graze her leg, letting her know she’d crossed her legs under the table.
“Alright. But you owe me a hell of a chat, Ken.”
Brett’s brow furrowed, and the confusion evident on his face made Santana laugh that marvelous laugh that always made Brittany smile, without fail, as it did now. “Brittany’s kind of like a Barbie doll…” she prompted.
After a long pause, Brett let out a low “Ohhhh. And we go together so that makes me Ken.”
“You got it,” Santana replied, reaching for another breadstick, and Brittany started to laugh, well, giggle, really, which meant that she had to cough to try and cover it as she realized that didn’t sound like guy laughter at all. And that set Santana to laughing, and Brittany had to bite her lip and look down at the table to smother an answering laugh, and then when she’d finally swallowed the giggles down she looked back up at Santana and there was such warmth, such caring there in those eyes that she felt herself melt a little inside and she knew, without a doubt, that this was going to be okay even if she was kind of bad at the whole acting thing. It didn’t matter - this was about being with Santana, and it was just like it ought to be, with them laughing together like they always did, just…enjoying each other’s company.
Yeah - even if she was a horrible dude that was okay.
* * * * *
For a date, it ended up being not half bad. They shared an order of Chicken Parmesan, and as usual Brittany ended up eating most of the pasta and Santana most of the chicken, and Santana took control of the conversation; Santana asked her to tell stories about Brett’s life at boarding school, and then she shared some of her favorite stories about things the two of them (Santana and Brittany, of course) had gotten up to, though she left out the sweet lady kisses. And they didn't talk any more about Santana being angry and mean or about what they wanted or why Brittany was doing this, even though sometimes Brittany saw the questioning look on Santana's face and knew she was wondering.
They made it through dinner and a slice of chocolate cake with only one more moment of Brittany failing miserably at acting like a guy, and Santana didn't protest when Brett paid for dinner (actually she didn't even reach for the check, but then this was supposed to be a normal date and Santana never paid when she went out with guys so Brittany wasn't too surprised). Really, it was a good time, and Brittany's face hurt from smiling so much by the time they left, which she didn't notice until they were on the way back to the car and that actually made her sort of sad because she couldn't remember the last time she'd been this happy. Never with Artie, she did know that.
And since she was Brittany, and she had no brain to mouth filter, that was the first thing that came out of her mouth as she started driving towards Lima Heights. "I don't remember the last time I was so happy. Thank you, Santana." She glanced toward the brunette, who looked back at her with a small smile, but if her expression changed Brittany didn't see it because she had to focus on the road.
"Me neither, Britt-Britt," she replied, and Brittany thought she heard sadness in her voice. When she glanced back, though, Santana had turned her head away and was staring out the window, so she couldn’t see her face really.
They were silent for a while as Brittany drove back to Santana’s house (it wasn’t that far a drive). Santana started singing along softly with the radio, and Brittany smiled as she listened to her voice. She wanted to comment, to tell Santana she had a beautiful voice like she had a hundred times before, but for some reason the words stuck in her mouth like peanut butter and she found herself swallowing them back down instead, and it was just as hard as swallowing peanut butter that was stuck to your teeth.
Finally they pulled up in front of Santana’s house and Brittany killed the engine, sitting quietly, turning to look at Santana. “So we should talk, right?” she asked.
With a soft sigh, Santana turned her head, glancing at Brittany’s face before staring out the windshield, avoiding looking at Brittany and working her jaw in the way that meant she was scared. “Yeah, we should.”
But she didn’t say anything else, and so Brittany frowned. “What did you want to talk about?” she asked, though she knew the answer. Maybe if she asked and was blunt and did her Brittany thing, Santana would give in and answer…but Santana kept staring out the windshield and Brittany huffed, letting her hands drop from the steering wheel. “C’mon, talk to me, please.”
And with a sigh, Santana turned to look at her, wary and afraid and maybe a little sad too. “What are you doing, Britt-Britt? What is this about, anyway?”
“I want to be with you,” she replied, turning in her seat to face Santana, pushing some of Brett’s blonde bangs out of her face. “I do, but I can’t just leave Artie, it’d kill him. And he had me first, so I can’t just-”
“Had you first?” Santana cried. “Are you freakin’ kidding me? I had you first. I’ve always had you first. You were my best friend, you know that? And then you got with Robocop and left me out to dry. You don’t get to just pick me up whenever you want me. It’s not like that.”
“Santana-” Brittany started, reaching out to touch her arm, but Santana pulled away, shaking her head.
“No! I’m not a toy, Brittany. I have fucking feelings,” she said, and the way she said feelings was so painful-it brought back every time Brittany had pleaded with her to talk about those same feelings, and the time that she had, and how it had all come crashing down from there. All because of the feelings Santana was talking about, using them to cut Brittany down. “And I trusted you, you know that? I trusted you with them and you went and broke my heart again, and again-and you didn’t even know, like you never know, because you’re so oblivious all the time, up in la la land where nothing really matters but sunshine and puppies and guess what-the world’s not like that.”
“Santana, please-” Brittany tried again, feeling something in her coming undone, feeling her eyes burning, feeling her stomach twisting up on itself and the noodles she’d eaten threatening to come back up.
But Santana was on a roll and there seemed to be no stopping her now. “What do think this is? Life isn’t a Katy Perry song. It’s not okay for you to run hot and cold on me. I won’t take it.”
“I’m not hot and cold, I promise. I wanted to do this so you could have a way to have me too. It’s like you said, it’s not cheating if the plumbing is different, and I don’t want to be a cheater so if the plumbing is different then it’s okay-”
Then she laughed. Santana laughed, loud and harsh in Brittany’s face, and the tears that she’d felt in her eyes a moment before came rushing out all at once like a waterfall and it seemed like there was no stopping it and she was just crying, crying…
The laughter stopped and Brittany could see through the blurry spots in her eyes that Santana actually did feel bad. But she was obviously staying in her seat, and she was carefully not looking at Brittany again.
“You’re just gonna sit there after you made me cry?” Brittany choked out, and Santana’s breath hitched in the silence of the car.
“I’m not going to apologize for telling the truth,” she replied, her voice still hard but her face showing she was close to breaking and apologizing anyway.
They sat for a little while longer, the only noise Brittany’s quiet sniffles until Brittany finally pulled herself together enough to ask a question she thought Santana wouldn’t respond to with anger. “If you’re so mad at me, why did you say yes to this?”
A sigh. “Because you’re Brittany and I can’t say no to you, no matter how much I want to.”
And if that was true, it was because what she’d said before was true, about loving her and wanting to be with her, and that was enough for Brittany. “I know I’m kind of clueless sometimes but I know how much you mean to me.”
“You have a funny way of showing it,” Santana snapped, and Brittany sniffled and had to push Brett’s hair out of her eyes again so that she could wipe the tears away.
“This is the best I can do right now,” Brittany replied softly, wiping her wet hands on Brett’s jeans. “I know it’s not what you want but it’s what I can give, and I need you to say yes. I need it like I need candy.” And that was saying something.
More silence from Santana, who was once again avoiding looking at Brittany. “Please say yes,” Brittany whispered, knowing this was an interesting switch since so recently it was Santana begging her to say yes, say that she loved her too. And now Brittany was asking for it, and Santana…
“Please,” she added again, and Santana cracked, looking back at Brittany with her own tears on her face.
“Yes,” she whispered back, and Brittany held out her pinkie again and Santana looked at it, laughed a little through her tears, and grabbed hold. “Yes,” she said again, stronger this time, and Brittany could breathe again, leaning forward to mash her lips to Santana’s. It took a second, but she responded, reaching up with her free hand to thread her fingers into Brittany’s hair, only to find her bare neck and break the kiss. “You know how weird this is for me, right?”
Brittany blinked. “What?”
“It’s like being with someone else. I mean you don’t have your hair or your boobs and you don’t even talk like you.”
“Well that was kind of the point…”
“Shut up and kiss me.” And with that, Santana tugged on Brett’s hair and pressed their lips together again and it was almost like they were on a real date, making out in the car afterward before Santana went inside. And that feeling spread all kinds of warmth through Britt’s body and by the time Santana pulled away Brittany felt like she was swimming in warm honey, all sweet and sticky and golden. “If you keep taking me out like this,” Santana said against Brittany’s lips, smoothing the wig, pushing hair out of Brittany’s face, “They’ll be dying to meet Brett by the end of next week.”
Brittany just smiled. “You’re so nice.”
“Yeah, well don’t get too used to it.” And she leaned in and pressed another soft kiss to Britt’s lips, leaving Brittany smiling. “I might have to be mean to you just so people won’t be suspicious. I’m mean to all the guys I date.”
With a nod, Brittany pulled away. “I know. But you’re always nice to me, and I love that about you.”
Santana’s lips turned up in a small smile. “That’s ‘cause you’re so sweet,” she said, and then they were kissing again and Brittany was getting warm all over again, and she couldn’t help but wonder if this meant they were getting their sweet lady kisses on, if things were almost back to normal, or if this was just how it was going to be for now. But Santana’s kisses distracted her and she forgot what she was thinking about except Santana’s lips on hers and Santana’s tongue in her mouth and how much she wanted to take off the bandage around her chest.
But then Santana pulled away suddenly, wearing her “I’m about to do something sexy and evil” smirk. “See you around, Ken,” she said, patting Brittany’s cheek and opening the car door, sliding out.
“Wait!” Brittany called, and Santana stopped, looking sly as she turned back to face her.
“What?”
“Can I see you tomorrow?”
Santana shook her head. “Monday. If you wanna do this you’ve gotta see Artie at least sometimes.”
“Oh,” Britt replied. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“That’s what I’m here for,” she said, smirking again. “Later, Britt-Britt.”
Brittany sat in the car and watched Santana walk up to her door, hips swaying, diverting Brittany’s attention to that warm sticky feeling from earlier and how Santana always made her feel that way and how they hadn’t ended up having sex, which was kind of sad because she’d hoped that would be part of this whole deal, especially since sex wasn’t dating and Santana wasn’t dating Brett. But regardless, Santana left her all warm and wanting and Brittany knew her face was flushed but she didn’t care. She’d taken her best friend out like she’d wanted to do, like she had been wanting to do…yeah there had been a few hiccups, and it was pretty obvious there were things she still needed to work out and that Santana needed to work out, too, but she’d gotten what she wanted, and the disguise was playing its part. Maybe Santana was right, and it was kind of weird, but Brittany wasn’t about to complain, because if nothing else, it was working.