It Had To Be You - Ch.3
Title: It Had To Be You
Chapter: 3/?
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Brittany/Santana. Slight Rachel/Quinn. Mention of Kurt/Blaine.
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.
Warning: AU. Language. Femslash. Mature themes.
Author's Note: Enjoy.
Summary: Brittany fully expected the anger swimming in her veins to guide her fist into the brunette's ridiculously kissable lips.
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Brittany stared at the magazine in her lap, baffled. Over a week ago Santana had mercilessly berated the article. Claimed it was garbage and forced her to write something new. The blonde blinked, stared dumbly at the words printed across the page, and shook her head. What was Santana playing at? Ever since the awkward moment they had in Brittany's bathroom the brunette hadn't so much as spared Brittany a dirty glance. Santana had almost been nice to her. Their conversations were curt but professional.
Quinn, however, was as insufferable as ever. Her roommate simply wouldn't shut up about Santana. Every other word out of Quinn's mouth seemed to have something to do with Santana. It didn't help that Rachel had taken it upon herself to investigate the relationship between Santana and Brittany. Despite Santana's firm and vehement insistence that there was nothing going on between the two of them. Brittany often caught Rachel eyeing them suspiciously whenever she interacted with Santana.
"Brittany!" The persistent banging at her bedroom door interrupted her train of thought for the second time of the night. "Are you ready yet?"
She tossed the magazine on her nightstand, stood from her bed, and opened the door. "Quinn, I already said-"
"Why are you wearing sweatpants?" Quinn looked her up and down, lips pursed.
"Because they're comfortable?"
"You said you would go out with me tonight."
"I said I'd consider going out with you tonight."
Quinn spared an errant glance at a very irritated Santana. The scowling brunette was currently clutching her purse like a weapon as Rachel ranted on with over exaggerated gestures. She slipped past Brittany and into her bedroom. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Is this about Santana?"
"…No."
"Britt," She leveled the taller girl with an arched brow. "You suck at lying."
Brittany crossed her arms defiantly over her chest and pouted like a disgruntled four year old. "I'm not lying."
The shorter blonde strode toward the closet. Shuffling through the many articles of clothing until she found a suitable outfit. "Stop pouting and put this on. We had a lot of fun last time and I want a repeat."
A fair amount of grumbling and exasperated eye rolls later, Brittany found herself packed into the backseat of a cab. Squished between an overzealous Rachel and a furious Santana. Rachel was speaking animatedly to Quinn, her drastic movements causing Brittany to bump into Santana. She tried desperately to ignore the heated spark she felt every time their bare skin brushed. A glance at the fuming brunette from the corner of her eye confirmed Santana was less than ten seconds away from murdering Rachel Berry.
Once at the club they settled in a small booth near the dance floor. Drinks were eagerly ordered, easy conversation running smoothly between the four of them. With flushed cheeks Brittany watched the swaying bodies on the dance floor. She finished the last of her drink before heading into the crowd. Hips swaying and nerves jumping to the beat.
Santana pulled a face when Quinn randomly decided it was okay to start making out with her girlfriend right in fucking front of her. She averted her gaze and noticed for the first time that Brittany had wandered off somewhere. An odd sense of relief washed through her. She didn't know how much longer she would be able to take being in Brittany's presence. Something about the blonde unnerved her. Whenever she was near Brittany her stomach churned, her skin felt like it was on fire, her hands got all clammy, and she felt like she was going to have a heart attack at any given moment.
Something bumped into her arm, snapping Santana from her thoughts. Her brown eyes widened. Expression set somewhere between pissed off, appalled, and incredulous. The brunette scrambled out of the booth. Quinn and Rachel were practically dry humping and Santana swore she vomited a little in her mouth. The dance floor was looking like a good distraction at the moment.
The music was erratic and loud and Santana found the beat easily. She surveyed the dance floor through hooded chocolate orbs. Her gaze found Brittany almost instantly. There was a small crowd forming around the blonde. Her movements were fluid and precise. She hit every jerk and thrust with practiced ease. Santana momentarily wondered why the blonde worked as a writer when she was easily one of the best dancers Santana had ever seen. Santana watched on as an attractive woman joined Brittany. Their dance shifted from flirtatious to suggestive and finally to erotic. Santana clenched her jaw at the display. The woman's arms wrapped around Brittany from behind and she pressed a teasing kiss to Brittany's shoulder.
The next few minutes were a blur for Santana. All she could recall was something like fire pulsing through her bloodstream and seeing red. She could feel the heat of Brittany's skin against her hands. The curious look in the blonde's eyes. The disappointed frown at the random woman's lips. It wasn't until Santana was shoving Brittany into a stall that she realized what she'd done.
"What is your problem?" Brittany hissed. Skin flushed with anger and exertion.
"You! Goddamn it! You are my fucking problem!" The palm of her hand struck the stall wall. Santana winced at the sting. "You were practically having sex with that chick!"
The blonde's frustration doubled at the accusation. "That's rich coming from the woman I caught having sex in a bathroom stall like some kind of tramp!"
Santana lunged viciously for the infuriating blonde. Fingers itching to wrap themselves around that slim neck and squeeze. Santana fully expected some violently bloody outcome if the red blurring her vision was any indication.
Brittany, on the other hand, wished to holy hell the raging brunette in front if her would leave her alone. The unbearable woman had somehow built up the gall to corner her and accuse her of the stupidest incident. Brittany fully expected the anger swimming in her veins to guide her fist into the brunette's ridiculously kissable lips.
Neither of them expected what happened next. Santana's hands buried themselves in Brittany's soft golden hair. Her body slammed into Brittany's. Pushing her against the side of the stall with a hard thud. Santana noticed for the first time how fucking blue Brittany's eyes were. Her gaze flickered to the blonde's gloss smeared lips. She wasn't sure if she should find the small freckle above Brittany's top lip so sexy. Brittany glared down at the scowling brunette. A half moan half growl bubbled from the nagging ache in the pit of her stomach and she grabbed Santana's waist. Nails digging into the delectable bare skin she found there. Brittany was sure it was the tempting gleam in Santana's dark gaze that spurred her forward and brought their mouths together.
Santana moaned and Brittany whimpered against the feel. The sound shocked Santana to her senses. Her dark eyes, a swirl of hazy melted chocolate, widened. She gasped, surged away from Brittany. Covered her mouth with her hand as if appalled by her own actions. She cursed the heat flushing her cheeks. Cursed the way her gaze trailed hungrily over Brittany.
"What… what was that?"
Santana's response came in the form of a high pitched squeak. In the next few seconds the brunette was running out of the stall and as far away from Brittany as physically possible.
Brittany stared at the open door in a daze. Brought her trembling fingers to her buzzing lips.
Did they just kiss?
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Brittany couldn't seem to get the kiss out of her head. It was all a rushed blur of action. Santana's gaze meeting hers from across the dance floor. The swirl of rage she found in her impossibly dark eyes. The sexy snarl at her full lips. And then Santana's hand was wrapped around her wrist. She faintly remembered her random dance partner yelling something. Santana growling and tugging her harshly through the horde of gyrating bodies. Brittany remembered the click of the stall lock. Her heart thudding in her ears. Rage swirling in her gut and then… and then everything slowed down. The world stopped. Kissing Santana was like playing with fire. All Brittany could do was melt.
"For the last time, Quinn. Nothing happened. Nada. Me entiendes?"
The voice snapped Brittany out of her thoughts. She froze a few feet away from Santana in the nearly deserted hallway. They hadn't spoken for days. Not since the night they… kissed. Panicked, Brittany thought briefly about turning back around the corner and hiding out in her office for the rest of the day.
It was too late. Santana's gaze caught hers. Her mouth hanging open in the middle of telling Quinn off. The brunette's face immediately flushed. Santana froze like a deer caught in headlights and ducked into the nearest door, which happened to be a random supply closet.
The blonde stared incredulously after Santana. Her suspicions about Santana's avoidance confirmed. Brittany strode irately over to the door Santana had disappeared behind. Having gotten trapped in the room once before and knowing Santana went in there to avoid her, Brittany followed the brunette in.
"This is really childish, Santana." Brittany managed to speak through the flutter dancing in her stomach.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Santana made to get past the blonde and out of the room.
Brittany blocked her path. Only realizing how close they were when Santana sucked in a surprised breath of air. She didn't calculate the unimaginable tightness of the space and forgot to factor in the other night's scorching kiss. Dimming sapphire shifted to Santana's lips. Brittany's breath caught in her throat. Suffocating her indignant words. When her gaze moved back to swirling mocha Brittany whimpered.
There was a heat building between them. Some undeniable spark sending shockwaves of desire coursing through their veins. Sending Santana's head spinning and body reacting. Propelling her forward. Lips crashing.
Brittany could feel it again. That curious sensation of freezing and melting all at once. Santana moaned against her, fingers tangling in Brittany's hair. Jerking her head closer. Brittany growled at the sound, the feel. She maneuvered Santana backward, hands pulling at the hem Santana's blouse. Greedy fingers finding their way to bare skin. Santana gasped. Skin jumping, tingling, trembling at the sensation.
Suddenly, Brittany found herself pinned harshly between a stack of old boxes and Santana. Her skirt hitched up around her hips, blouse in half unbuttoned disarray, and Santana's greedy tongue between her breasts. With her own hands palming Santana's back and her legs wrapping around the brunette's waist.
"Whoa…" Light flooded the small room causing Brittany and Santana to spring away from one another.
The two women stared at Blaine Anderson in complete shock. It took less than a second for Blaine to process the scene. His face scrunched in mild distaste as he moved out of the room. "Did not need to see that."
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She fumbled with her cell phone, fingers dancing over the numbers in a flustered flurry. She took a calming breath, finally managed to enter correct series of numbers, and hit send.
'Answer. Answer. Answer.'
It took three rings before a gruff voice answered. "This better be important, babe. I was in the middle of-"
"It's happening again." Santana hissed. She looked out of her office window, caught Brittany's glazed stare. Felt her heart skip a beat and her face flush.
"Again?" A scoff and a heavy sigh. "I may be a badass lawyer but I can't keep pulling strings to get you out of assault charges. Go to fucking anger management, Lopez."
"Cut the crap, Noah." Santana shut her blinds and stalked over to her desk. "It. Is. Fucking. Happening. Again."
"What is…" The man went silent as realization dawned upon him. "Oh. It. With who?"
"Chick at work."
"How bad?"
Santana could still feel the burn of Brittany's mouth against her own. "Very."
"She hot?"
She could almost see him grinning but couldn't bother to care. Instead she breathed out a shaky response. "Gorgeous."
"Then what the hell is your malfunction? Fuck her out of your system."
"I... like her. Shit! I like her." Santana stood from her office chair. Panic etching across her features. She paced her large office, designer heels burning a furious trail into the floor. "What the fuck am I going to do!"
"Santana." He started carefully. Tone dipping into seriousness. "You can't run away every time you think you might actually be interested in someone for more than a night. I get it, okay? The first girl you ever had feelings for played you and cheated on you with some guy. Sure, that guy was me. But that was in high school. Maybe you should give this new girl a shot."
Santana stopped, pulled the phone from her ear, and stared at the offending object for an entire minute. Her eye twitched, nostrils flaring and jaw tightening.
On the other side of the country Noah Puckerman swerved, clipping a taxi. He stared at his cell phone with wide hazel eyes. In hindsight, it probably wasn't the best idea to mention the girl who ripped Santana's heart into pretty little shreds. The hulking taxi cab driver currently stalking toward his vehicle with a baseball bat in hand was the least of his worries. He screamed, threw the phone in the back seat, and sped toward his apartment. The first thing he would do was purchase a ticket for the earliest flight to Hawaii. No, Brazil. Shit, Santana would be expecting him to go somewhere with hot natives.
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t was on the following Saturday that Santana ceased her vicious plotting against Noah Puckerman long enough to contemplate his advice. She briefly wondered if her friend had a point. Nearly ten years had passed since Santana's one and only girlfriend broke her heart.
Tuesday came and Santana found herself watching Brittany. Found herself mentally complimenting the blonde's physique. She had to admit that Brittany S. Pierce was a stunningly gorgeous woman and exactly her type.
By Thursday Santana had a plan. A brilliant, fool proof plan that had her dizzy with anticipation. She was going to ask Brittany out on… on a date. Quinn had, being Quinn and completely obsessed with playing matchmaker, weaseled the information out of Santana. The brunette had rehearsed it in her head. Had reluctantly rehearsed the moment with Quinn and an irritating Rachel Berry. She had it mapped out, what she would say, what Brittany would say. How she would give the blonde a charming smile and suavely suggest dinner. Just the two of them.
"Hi." Santana squashed down the urge to run the fuck away when Brittany looked up at her. Her blue eyes piercing through Santana and sending shockwaves throughout her body.
"Hi." Said with a furrowed brow.
Santana swallowed nervously. Trying and failing to remember her practiced words under Brittany's confused stare. "So… I was wondering if, maybe, if you aren't busy and-"
"Why are you talking to me?" Brittany inquired. Tone monotonous and expression unreadable.
'She's not supposed to say that! Fuck!' Santana's dark gaze meandered about the office. The thought played on repeat through her head. "I…"
"Yes?" Brittany prodded.
Santana remained silent. The major freak out in her head had her frozen.
"Are you feeling okay?"
Santana was sweating bullets. If she didn't say something soon she'd look like even more of an idiot. "Dinner!"
The blonde pulled away from Santana who was currently invading her personal space. Brittany wasn't sure if she should be worried about the twitch at Santana's eye. "What about dinner?"
"Will you go with me?" Santana straightened herself. A dark flush coating her tanned cheeks. Fingers fidgeting with the hem of her blouse. The toe of her shoe digging into the carpet like a nervous schoolgirl. She could barely look Brittany in the eye. "To dinner. Will you go to dinner with me?"
"Santana," Brittany tensed. "Are… Are you asking me out on a date?"
Chapter: 3/?
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Brittany/Santana. Slight Rachel/Quinn. Mention of Kurt/Blaine.
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.
Warning: AU. Language. Femslash. Mature themes.
Author's Note: Enjoy.
Summary: Brittany fully expected the anger swimming in her veins to guide her fist into the brunette's ridiculously kissable lips.
--------------------
Brittany stared at the magazine in her lap, baffled. Over a week ago Santana had mercilessly berated the article. Claimed it was garbage and forced her to write something new. The blonde blinked, stared dumbly at the words printed across the page, and shook her head. What was Santana playing at? Ever since the awkward moment they had in Brittany's bathroom the brunette hadn't so much as spared Brittany a dirty glance. Santana had almost been nice to her. Their conversations were curt but professional.
Quinn, however, was as insufferable as ever. Her roommate simply wouldn't shut up about Santana. Every other word out of Quinn's mouth seemed to have something to do with Santana. It didn't help that Rachel had taken it upon herself to investigate the relationship between Santana and Brittany. Despite Santana's firm and vehement insistence that there was nothing going on between the two of them. Brittany often caught Rachel eyeing them suspiciously whenever she interacted with Santana.
"Brittany!" The persistent banging at her bedroom door interrupted her train of thought for the second time of the night. "Are you ready yet?"
She tossed the magazine on her nightstand, stood from her bed, and opened the door. "Quinn, I already said-"
"Why are you wearing sweatpants?" Quinn looked her up and down, lips pursed.
"Because they're comfortable?"
"You said you would go out with me tonight."
"I said I'd consider going out with you tonight."
Quinn spared an errant glance at a very irritated Santana. The scowling brunette was currently clutching her purse like a weapon as Rachel ranted on with over exaggerated gestures. She slipped past Brittany and into her bedroom. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Is this about Santana?"
"…No."
"Britt," She leveled the taller girl with an arched brow. "You suck at lying."
Brittany crossed her arms defiantly over her chest and pouted like a disgruntled four year old. "I'm not lying."
The shorter blonde strode toward the closet. Shuffling through the many articles of clothing until she found a suitable outfit. "Stop pouting and put this on. We had a lot of fun last time and I want a repeat."
A fair amount of grumbling and exasperated eye rolls later, Brittany found herself packed into the backseat of a cab. Squished between an overzealous Rachel and a furious Santana. Rachel was speaking animatedly to Quinn, her drastic movements causing Brittany to bump into Santana. She tried desperately to ignore the heated spark she felt every time their bare skin brushed. A glance at the fuming brunette from the corner of her eye confirmed Santana was less than ten seconds away from murdering Rachel Berry.
Once at the club they settled in a small booth near the dance floor. Drinks were eagerly ordered, easy conversation running smoothly between the four of them. With flushed cheeks Brittany watched the swaying bodies on the dance floor. She finished the last of her drink before heading into the crowd. Hips swaying and nerves jumping to the beat.
Santana pulled a face when Quinn randomly decided it was okay to start making out with her girlfriend right in fucking front of her. She averted her gaze and noticed for the first time that Brittany had wandered off somewhere. An odd sense of relief washed through her. She didn't know how much longer she would be able to take being in Brittany's presence. Something about the blonde unnerved her. Whenever she was near Brittany her stomach churned, her skin felt like it was on fire, her hands got all clammy, and she felt like she was going to have a heart attack at any given moment.
Something bumped into her arm, snapping Santana from her thoughts. Her brown eyes widened. Expression set somewhere between pissed off, appalled, and incredulous. The brunette scrambled out of the booth. Quinn and Rachel were practically dry humping and Santana swore she vomited a little in her mouth. The dance floor was looking like a good distraction at the moment.
The music was erratic and loud and Santana found the beat easily. She surveyed the dance floor through hooded chocolate orbs. Her gaze found Brittany almost instantly. There was a small crowd forming around the blonde. Her movements were fluid and precise. She hit every jerk and thrust with practiced ease. Santana momentarily wondered why the blonde worked as a writer when she was easily one of the best dancers Santana had ever seen. Santana watched on as an attractive woman joined Brittany. Their dance shifted from flirtatious to suggestive and finally to erotic. Santana clenched her jaw at the display. The woman's arms wrapped around Brittany from behind and she pressed a teasing kiss to Brittany's shoulder.
The next few minutes were a blur for Santana. All she could recall was something like fire pulsing through her bloodstream and seeing red. She could feel the heat of Brittany's skin against her hands. The curious look in the blonde's eyes. The disappointed frown at the random woman's lips. It wasn't until Santana was shoving Brittany into a stall that she realized what she'd done.
"What is your problem?" Brittany hissed. Skin flushed with anger and exertion.
"You! Goddamn it! You are my fucking problem!" The palm of her hand struck the stall wall. Santana winced at the sting. "You were practically having sex with that chick!"
The blonde's frustration doubled at the accusation. "That's rich coming from the woman I caught having sex in a bathroom stall like some kind of tramp!"
Santana lunged viciously for the infuriating blonde. Fingers itching to wrap themselves around that slim neck and squeeze. Santana fully expected some violently bloody outcome if the red blurring her vision was any indication.
Brittany, on the other hand, wished to holy hell the raging brunette in front if her would leave her alone. The unbearable woman had somehow built up the gall to corner her and accuse her of the stupidest incident. Brittany fully expected the anger swimming in her veins to guide her fist into the brunette's ridiculously kissable lips.
Neither of them expected what happened next. Santana's hands buried themselves in Brittany's soft golden hair. Her body slammed into Brittany's. Pushing her against the side of the stall with a hard thud. Santana noticed for the first time how fucking blue Brittany's eyes were. Her gaze flickered to the blonde's gloss smeared lips. She wasn't sure if she should find the small freckle above Brittany's top lip so sexy. Brittany glared down at the scowling brunette. A half moan half growl bubbled from the nagging ache in the pit of her stomach and she grabbed Santana's waist. Nails digging into the delectable bare skin she found there. Brittany was sure it was the tempting gleam in Santana's dark gaze that spurred her forward and brought their mouths together.
Santana moaned and Brittany whimpered against the feel. The sound shocked Santana to her senses. Her dark eyes, a swirl of hazy melted chocolate, widened. She gasped, surged away from Brittany. Covered her mouth with her hand as if appalled by her own actions. She cursed the heat flushing her cheeks. Cursed the way her gaze trailed hungrily over Brittany.
"What… what was that?"
Santana's response came in the form of a high pitched squeak. In the next few seconds the brunette was running out of the stall and as far away from Brittany as physically possible.
Brittany stared at the open door in a daze. Brought her trembling fingers to her buzzing lips.
Did they just kiss?
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Brittany couldn't seem to get the kiss out of her head. It was all a rushed blur of action. Santana's gaze meeting hers from across the dance floor. The swirl of rage she found in her impossibly dark eyes. The sexy snarl at her full lips. And then Santana's hand was wrapped around her wrist. She faintly remembered her random dance partner yelling something. Santana growling and tugging her harshly through the horde of gyrating bodies. Brittany remembered the click of the stall lock. Her heart thudding in her ears. Rage swirling in her gut and then… and then everything slowed down. The world stopped. Kissing Santana was like playing with fire. All Brittany could do was melt.
"For the last time, Quinn. Nothing happened. Nada. Me entiendes?"
The voice snapped Brittany out of her thoughts. She froze a few feet away from Santana in the nearly deserted hallway. They hadn't spoken for days. Not since the night they… kissed. Panicked, Brittany thought briefly about turning back around the corner and hiding out in her office for the rest of the day.
It was too late. Santana's gaze caught hers. Her mouth hanging open in the middle of telling Quinn off. The brunette's face immediately flushed. Santana froze like a deer caught in headlights and ducked into the nearest door, which happened to be a random supply closet.
The blonde stared incredulously after Santana. Her suspicions about Santana's avoidance confirmed. Brittany strode irately over to the door Santana had disappeared behind. Having gotten trapped in the room once before and knowing Santana went in there to avoid her, Brittany followed the brunette in.
"This is really childish, Santana." Brittany managed to speak through the flutter dancing in her stomach.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Santana made to get past the blonde and out of the room.
Brittany blocked her path. Only realizing how close they were when Santana sucked in a surprised breath of air. She didn't calculate the unimaginable tightness of the space and forgot to factor in the other night's scorching kiss. Dimming sapphire shifted to Santana's lips. Brittany's breath caught in her throat. Suffocating her indignant words. When her gaze moved back to swirling mocha Brittany whimpered.
There was a heat building between them. Some undeniable spark sending shockwaves of desire coursing through their veins. Sending Santana's head spinning and body reacting. Propelling her forward. Lips crashing.
Brittany could feel it again. That curious sensation of freezing and melting all at once. Santana moaned against her, fingers tangling in Brittany's hair. Jerking her head closer. Brittany growled at the sound, the feel. She maneuvered Santana backward, hands pulling at the hem Santana's blouse. Greedy fingers finding their way to bare skin. Santana gasped. Skin jumping, tingling, trembling at the sensation.
Suddenly, Brittany found herself pinned harshly between a stack of old boxes and Santana. Her skirt hitched up around her hips, blouse in half unbuttoned disarray, and Santana's greedy tongue between her breasts. With her own hands palming Santana's back and her legs wrapping around the brunette's waist.
"Whoa…" Light flooded the small room causing Brittany and Santana to spring away from one another.
The two women stared at Blaine Anderson in complete shock. It took less than a second for Blaine to process the scene. His face scrunched in mild distaste as he moved out of the room. "Did not need to see that."
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She fumbled with her cell phone, fingers dancing over the numbers in a flustered flurry. She took a calming breath, finally managed to enter correct series of numbers, and hit send.
'Answer. Answer. Answer.'
It took three rings before a gruff voice answered. "This better be important, babe. I was in the middle of-"
"It's happening again." Santana hissed. She looked out of her office window, caught Brittany's glazed stare. Felt her heart skip a beat and her face flush.
"Again?" A scoff and a heavy sigh. "I may be a badass lawyer but I can't keep pulling strings to get you out of assault charges. Go to fucking anger management, Lopez."
"Cut the crap, Noah." Santana shut her blinds and stalked over to her desk. "It. Is. Fucking. Happening. Again."
"What is…" The man went silent as realization dawned upon him. "Oh. It. With who?"
"Chick at work."
"How bad?"
Santana could still feel the burn of Brittany's mouth against her own. "Very."
"She hot?"
She could almost see him grinning but couldn't bother to care. Instead she breathed out a shaky response. "Gorgeous."
"Then what the hell is your malfunction? Fuck her out of your system."
"I... like her. Shit! I like her." Santana stood from her office chair. Panic etching across her features. She paced her large office, designer heels burning a furious trail into the floor. "What the fuck am I going to do!"
"Santana." He started carefully. Tone dipping into seriousness. "You can't run away every time you think you might actually be interested in someone for more than a night. I get it, okay? The first girl you ever had feelings for played you and cheated on you with some guy. Sure, that guy was me. But that was in high school. Maybe you should give this new girl a shot."
Santana stopped, pulled the phone from her ear, and stared at the offending object for an entire minute. Her eye twitched, nostrils flaring and jaw tightening.
On the other side of the country Noah Puckerman swerved, clipping a taxi. He stared at his cell phone with wide hazel eyes. In hindsight, it probably wasn't the best idea to mention the girl who ripped Santana's heart into pretty little shreds. The hulking taxi cab driver currently stalking toward his vehicle with a baseball bat in hand was the least of his worries. He screamed, threw the phone in the back seat, and sped toward his apartment. The first thing he would do was purchase a ticket for the earliest flight to Hawaii. No, Brazil. Shit, Santana would be expecting him to go somewhere with hot natives.
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t was on the following Saturday that Santana ceased her vicious plotting against Noah Puckerman long enough to contemplate his advice. She briefly wondered if her friend had a point. Nearly ten years had passed since Santana's one and only girlfriend broke her heart.
Tuesday came and Santana found herself watching Brittany. Found herself mentally complimenting the blonde's physique. She had to admit that Brittany S. Pierce was a stunningly gorgeous woman and exactly her type.
By Thursday Santana had a plan. A brilliant, fool proof plan that had her dizzy with anticipation. She was going to ask Brittany out on… on a date. Quinn had, being Quinn and completely obsessed with playing matchmaker, weaseled the information out of Santana. The brunette had rehearsed it in her head. Had reluctantly rehearsed the moment with Quinn and an irritating Rachel Berry. She had it mapped out, what she would say, what Brittany would say. How she would give the blonde a charming smile and suavely suggest dinner. Just the two of them.
"Hi." Santana squashed down the urge to run the fuck away when Brittany looked up at her. Her blue eyes piercing through Santana and sending shockwaves throughout her body.
"Hi." Said with a furrowed brow.
Santana swallowed nervously. Trying and failing to remember her practiced words under Brittany's confused stare. "So… I was wondering if, maybe, if you aren't busy and-"
"Why are you talking to me?" Brittany inquired. Tone monotonous and expression unreadable.
'She's not supposed to say that! Fuck!' Santana's dark gaze meandered about the office. The thought played on repeat through her head. "I…"
"Yes?" Brittany prodded.
Santana remained silent. The major freak out in her head had her frozen.
"Are you feeling okay?"
Santana was sweating bullets. If she didn't say something soon she'd look like even more of an idiot. "Dinner!"
The blonde pulled away from Santana who was currently invading her personal space. Brittany wasn't sure if she should be worried about the twitch at Santana's eye. "What about dinner?"
"Will you go with me?" Santana straightened herself. A dark flush coating her tanned cheeks. Fingers fidgeting with the hem of her blouse. The toe of her shoe digging into the carpet like a nervous schoolgirl. She could barely look Brittany in the eye. "To dinner. Will you go to dinner with me?"
"Santana," Brittany tensed. "Are… Are you asking me out on a date?"