A/N: For those waiting on my other series, I'm terribly sorry to say that I've currently got no motivation to write it, and with this dopamine deficiency, I wouldn't do it well, so it's on hold. Sorry ):
So I've compensated you with another story. It's much shorter and I'll finish it with chapters lesser in number than the fingers on your hand.
Disclaimer: Thou Shalt Not Steal. I didn't, they belong to who they belong to and that's not me.
It's Simple
It's Simple
People tend to over think situations and hence making them seem much more complicating than they really are.
But can you really blame them?
Not really, not when the world's drenched in complications right down to it's very core.
Everyone's life is complicating, but Santana's? It's basically a ball of tangled thread that no one can unravel.
Not her family, not her friends and not even Mr Hutcherson, the best surgeon ever to exist in the world - or so they say.
So that's why she finds herself standing in front of the brick building - that basically defines her life- for the nth time on her way to pay her weekly instalments of this constant debt she owes to her ailing body.
And for what? She always asks because when you pay, you're always doing it in exchange for something.
The answer's simple yet so very complicating; just for a chance to see the week after this.
The automated sliding door gears open with the dullest 'ding!' she's ever heard, and she has heard a multitude of 'dings' in her life considering the number of hospitals and 24 hour pharmacies she's been to before finally settling in Lima Ohio, so that's saying something.
She sighs as the smell of antiseptic invades her nose and her flats hit the marble floor with an overtly familiar 'clock'. She loved the sound of shoes upon marble ground before, but it was beginning to remind her of too many things she would rather not remember, so now she settles for a pair of slippers everywhere she goes. Except, her red and white Havianas have broken from being worn too many times, hence the black flats.
"Santana, hey," the pharmacist greets and effectively draws Santana out of her dark thoughts. She couldn't be more relieved to see the brunette's bright smile behind the sickly green counter.
"Hey Kirby!" She greets back with a smile to match his.
He already had an arm extended with a piece of paper hanging at the tip of his fingers but quickly retraces his arm as she nears the counter and reaches for it.
Santana eyes the queue number now pressed to his chest questioningly and then looks up at the boy whose green eyes have widened comically.
She inches towards him, widening her eyes to mock his, "what? Did my brow finally disappear?" she wiggles them just to amuse herself further.
"I told you not to call me that!" he whispers harshly through gritted teeth and glances behind Santana.
She follows his line of sight curiously and sucks her lips into her mouth to stifle her giggle upon seeing a lab coat clad doctor with excessively gelled hair that was the clear source of Kurt's exasperation.
"And that's not funny Santana," he continues, eyes now brimming with concern.
She absolutely hates it when people act like everyone has to watch what they say in front of her. She abhors being treated like she's a glass doll in the presence of a raging bull.
She's the freaking raging bull.
Her mood changes from lighthearted glee to solemn hostility in a split second and she lunges for the piece of paper in Kurt's now slack grasp.
He gasps at her sudden movement.
"My buddy up there doesn't mind devouring all the hair, why should you?"
She whirls around angrily to walk away.
"I-I'm sorry Santana."
The blue seat located closest to the wall catches her attention like it always does when she's feeling down and she contemplates simply walking over and plopping down on it with attitude, but Kurt had sounded so incredibly apologetic that she just has to turn back mid way.
"I'll be at my seat then, Madame Kurt-sy," she says with a purposeful sweet voice and then does an exaggerated curtsy.
Kurt's smile was a mixture of relief and apology when he shouts back,
"I'll ignore the pun and blatant jab at my sexuality this time!"
"You wouldn't dare try anything anyways! You know I'd eat your hair!"
Their guffaws fill the empty room and all's forgiven.
The next time she regains her consciousness was due to a weird feeling on her left thigh. It felt like the ceiling had a leak and water was dripping onto her thigh and making her jeans moist and uncomfortable.
She scrunched her face up with disgust before finally cracking her eye open.
Turns out, the ceiling wasn't leaking and the wetness on her jeans wasn't just water.
Santana jumps in her seat and the blue chair clatters against the wall behind loudly. The monster of a cat leaps off her lap, startled as well.
"What the fu-"
"Don't!"
She'd thought a salivating cat would be a surprise enough for the day, well, apparently not. As she tilted her head up to the owner of the leashed, salivating monster of a cat with all intention to reprimand her, she couldn't help but hold her breath at the -literally- breathtaking view of sparkling cobalt eyes, gleaming right back at her.
Bright eyes holds her gaze before leaning towards her and Santana's body goes completely rigid, was she about to do what she thinks she's about to do?
No, of course not.
She's targeting for Santana's ear and as she gets close enough to whisper into it, Santana vaguely registers a warning but discovers that bright eyes has blonde hair that's shiny like the sun and smells exquisite; Oranges.
It disappears as quickly as it came and before she knew it, blondie has moving away and standing back straight.
Santana shudders as her cheek grazes against the cool surface of the blonde's cheekbone.
"What?" She could only weakly ask the cat owner to repeat herself, too ashamed to admit that she hadn'tcaught what was said because she smelt so nice.
"I said," the woman furrows her brows and begins to lean in again. This time, Santana manages to jerk away and shake her head.
"No, no, just say it," she almost pleads, raising her hands and placing it in between them.
The blonde brows furrows again and Santana feels almost guilty for causing it.
"Mmmm," she appears to ponder, pinching her lips to side and tilting her head a little before crouching down to level herself with the cat and using her hands to cover the feline's ears.
"I said don't swear in front of Lord T, he'll pick it up like he picked up smoking," she looks back up to Santana who had a tiny smile splayed across her face, "and my uncle's diabetes."
"I'm sorry..." She pauses so that the woman would fill the blank in.
"Brittany," the blonde does as prompted and takes away her hands so that she could pat the cat's head, giggling as it purred and nuzzled against the fingers massaging it's scalp.
"Brittany."
Santana couldn't help but find the exchange unbearably endearing and although thinks cats mostly repulsive, finds herself leaning downwards until her fingers tips are grazing the tip of the cat's head. When the cat jerks and looks at her like she'd just violated some kind of cat rule she almost seconds guesses her actions but then she's looking up and there's Brittany smiling at her with her impeccably white teeth and mesmerising blue eyes and she thinks she may have taken a liking to cats.
Even if they were big, fat and drool like sexually excited dogs.
"And he's Lord Tubbington."
TIC-TACS.
"So where did you get him?"
It's been a few hours and she's sure her doctor's probably been waiting a long time as well, but Brittany had settled onto the seat next to hers and brought her legs up to the chair so that she could fully face Santana.
Everything else can wait.
Lord Tubbington purrs on the combined armrests of both their chair as if knowing Santana was talking about him.
She looks down at the cat and smiles when she catches it's green eyes looking right back at her.
"Lord T?"
"Yeah," she looks back up and crosses her legs onto the seat.
"He wandered into my home one night, settled under my couch and never left," Brittany shrugged indifferently but looks at the over grown feline like it's one of the best things that has ever happened to her.
"He's cute."
It surprises her that it's actually genuine; that she wasn't simply trying to impress the girl.
"Yeah?"
Their eyes lock again and she isn't able to control it when she says breathily, "they say the pets take after their owners."
It takes awhile for her to realise what she had said and her eyes widen as Brittany's narrow into suspicious slits.
"Oh, my, gosh," she breaths, reprimanding herself internally and dropping her feet to the ground with a loud thud.
"I look like a cat?" Brittany asks, surprised and confused at the same time, touching her face with her fingers and checking for the presence of whiskers.
"No I-"
"Ohhhhh..." When she finally gets it and a blush begins to taint her cheeks.
"Shit, Brittany I-I'm so sorry I-"
She trails away when Brittany's features soften until she has a simper on her lips and is looking at Santana in a way Santana just knows she's seen before
"Are friends of the owners part of the equation as well?"
Santana's glad she was blessed with coloured skin to cover the redness that would undeniably be on her cheeks but she's most thankful that Brittany had pale skin, because she looks absolutely amazing with the awkward red flush.
The moment breaks and shatters into a million pieces when the shrill voice of Kurt rings across the waiting room.
"SANTANA! YOU'RE STILL HERE?! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE IN THERE 30 MINUTES AGO!"
In one second, Santana's looking at Kurt with wide flummoxed eyes, in the next she sees Brittany's eyebrow raised in amusement, then the blonde's inching towards her again, mouth moving with words she couldn't swiftly decipher and before she could even count to the third second, she's pulled off her seat by Brittany and heading across the hospital to the exit with Kurt's voice hot on their heels.
The sliding door's 'ding' never sounded so alive and her heart hasn't beat so rapidly in a long long time.
There's burning in her lungs and throat by the time they're halfway across the car park and hoping into a maroon range rover but she thinks nothing of it, all that's in her mind is the indispensable image of how Brittany had been looking at her moments before Kurt so rudely interrupted.
Hadn't Brittany looked at Lord Tubbington the same way just seconds before?
Now now, don't go running out of hospitals and sit your ass down.
Unless it's Brittany pulling your hand and you're Santana, then by all means.
I apologise yet again (: Have a great day!