Several weeks ago I started a prompt challenge on my Tumblr. You drop me a prompt on my ask, I'll fill it if I'm seduced by it.
A few of those will be posted here. This is one of them.
DISLIKE
All being said, Brittany hates losing.
She wears her uniform and she takes down crime, that's what she does.
Then some smart pants lawyer comes to sweep the jury away with her pretty face and no one remembers the police.
A three-year investigation that resulted in the arrest of several gang lords, cops undercover and a whole operation to bust the big fish, and the district attorney gets all the spotlight.
Oh, and she looks smug, with those full red lusty lips and those hips swaying like the Earth's rotation depends on them.
She thinks she's a big deal. She thinks she's the last bottle of Coke in the desert, that Santana Lopez.
Puck taps on Brittany's shoulder. "C'mon, let Miss Lawyer have her fifteen minutes of fame. Let's have a beer."
She squeezes her eyes in disgust, staring at Lopez one last time before leaving the court.
—
She loves Puck, though.
He's disgusting and crass, but he's also everything good in the whole goddamn world.
He buys their 7th round because he's a gentleman.
She laughs, clinking the bottles together. "You bought because it's payday and you're feeling rich!"
"Well, that too," he answers with a shrug and a boyish smile. He looks handsome in his worn blue jeans and sleeveless grey shirt, winking whenever women stared at his abs for too long.
She can feel her pressure dropping. "Shit," she says, suddenly feeling very aware of her black miniskirt and white top.
DA Santana "Ballbuster" Lopez enters the bar, a Latina goddess in a tight, short black dress, her boobs magnificent in that over spilling cleavage.
Puck turns around and smiles mischievously. "Someone got the hots, and for a change this someone isn't me."
"She's coming, oh my God," she tries to shush Puck, slapping his knee, "in our direction!"
He straightens his back, holding back that mocking smile of his, right when Santana Lopez passes by.
"Puckerman, Pierce," she says when she passes by them, a half grin on her face, her hand brushing Brittany's shoulder.
She might faint at any moment.
Puck just wiggles his eyebrows and takes a big gulp of his beer.
—-
Puck's gone to the bathroom to answer nature's calling.
When she glances to her side there's no one but Santana Lopez walking in her direction.
Sweet baby Jesus. Is this a trap? IS THIS A TRAP?
She's way too tipsy for this moment.
"Pierce." Santana says, looking at Brittany from head to toe with some mysterious look on her face. She places her bourbon on the counter.
"Yes?" Brittany answers, happy for not sounding like a scared mouse. She tries to look around for signs of Puck, but he's nowhere to be seen.
"I know my reputation." Santana comes closer. "I know the names they give me."
She forces herself not to answer anything.
"What I don't know is why some people dislike me so much." She takes another step, and the bar isn't so big and she's right by Brittany's side. "Like you, for an instance."
"I don't dislike you," Brittany answers, holding her beer bottle in front of her as a shield. "You're cool?"
"No need to lie, I'm a big girl." Santana's voice drops an octave and it becomes suddenly so sultry and arousing Brittany licks her own lower lip. "Who knows how to get what she wants."
Brittany uses her free hand to touch Santana's waist. "You think you're better than everyone."
Santana presses her body against Brittany's leg, and Brittany wishes Santana was standing between her legs.
Or laying between her legs.
Oh God.
"What else?" Santana asks, taking a sip from her drink.
Oh God.
"You think little of police work," Brittany says, resting her hand a little more confidently and squeezing a little. "And you always manage to get all the credit to yourself."
Santana's half grin never falters; her left hand sneaks under Brittany's hair to rest on her neck.
She might be wrong, with all the buzz of people talking and the bar's soft rock playing on the background, but she can swear she can hear Santana humming.
She gets up from her stool and uses the hand on Santana's waist to pull them closer. "You never ask, you always demand."
Santana's hand drops to her shoulder, then to the back of her arm to her elbow. "I think you just need to know me better." She takes the bottle of beer from Brittany's hand and sets it aside, placing both Brittany's hands on her waist.
"Isn't a police officer too little for a woman like you?" Brittany asks, lowering her head until their lips were almost touching.
"Actually, I have a suspicion you might be too much to handle." Santana presses Brittany against the counter and joins their lips.
She sucks on Brittany's lower lip, teeth scratching when she pulls, before Brittany grabs her neck and deepens the kiss.
Santana smells like wood and amber, and her leg soon is pressing between Brittany's. Brittany moans in her mouth, pulling her hair and sucking on her tongue.
"Just as I imagined," Santana says when they break for air, her voice raspy.
"Not bad for a cold bitch, yourself." Brittany jokes, and Santana laughs so free, throwing her head back, that she can't help but kiss her again.