Author's Note;; This was originally just for my LJ, but thanks to my lovely (annoying as all get out) beta LeftiesAreHot, I'm uploading this story onto this site as well. The things I do for that pain in the butt.
Just as a note, this story is not a top priority of mine and will be updated very...very slowly. Hope you enjoy it anyway!
"That," Noah Puckerman pronounced succinctly, "was fucking ace."
With an answering grin and a happy squeal and wiggle, Brittany Pierce clung all the tighter to Rachel Berry, contagious laughter, excitement and remaining adrenaline bubbling forth as they jumped up and down. Mike Chang stood off to the side, exchanging more manly fistbumps and silent, masculine uplifts of brows with Matt Ruthorford, Artie Abrams and Noah. A goofy looking Finn Hudson had his arm draped brotherly over the perfectly coiffed Kurt Hummel, who in turn was talking rather animatedly with Mercedes Jones, Quinn Fabray and Tina Cohen-Chang. They were all pumped, the experience they just shared leaving them flushed and proud of themselves and each other.
After all, it wasn't everyday that just anyone got to perform at the White House.
"Ms Pierce," Someone materialized at Brittany's elbow, pulling her attention away, "someone wishes to speak to you privately in your dressing room. An appreciative audience member," He added with a slight sniff.
Wary, Brittany murmured that she'd be right back, peeling herself away from the rest of New Directions and making her way to the room. Before she left, she exchanged nods with Puck, the narrowing of his eyes telling her that he would follow at a distance to make sure nothing untoward happened. One could never be too careful, even in a place as carefully guarded as this.
When she opened the door, she'd expected to be congratulated, shake a hand of a stranger and make smalltalk, or even get propositioned by a sleazy scumbag. She had not been expected to be greeted with the all too familiar sight of tanned skin dressed revealingly in a dark dress, under which toned muscles flexed gently, dark hair seemingly carelessly swept up and pinned in a knot at the other's nape. Mouth suddenly dry, Brittany silently moved forward, one hand outstretched despite herself, fingers quivering before she yanked her arm back. She wanted so badly to touch them gently to an arm she had once caressed for hours at a time, but ultimately decided not to give either of them the satisfaction.
"Santana?" Slowly, the other woman turned around, before even white teeth flashed in a lazy smile- One that the blonde used to be a recipient of on a near daily basis. It'd been six years since she had seen it, and the sudden torrent of memories first weakened her knees, before she shoved them away and straightened proudly. She refused to break.
"Britt," Santana greeted her, darkened eyes trailing appreciatively over the blonde's body, dressed in snug jeans and blouse- Their outfit for the last performance.
The easiness and familiarity of the greeting and blatant look had Brittany squaring her jaw, pale blue eyes narrowing slightly. "What are you doing here?" She bit out, the uncharacteristic harshness of her voice causing Santana to focus on her face instead of her chest and legs.
"Me?" Santana asked innocently, brows raising as she gave the taller girl another once-over, "Just enjoying the show, of course." That motion left Brittany with the urge to cross her arms over her front in defence, to shield herself from that gaze.
"No games, Santana." She snapped, irate. "Why are you here?"
Turning to fully face the blonde, Santana shifted ever closer, so close that if she lifted up on her toes, she'd be able to touch their mouths together. However, the Latina did nothing of the sort, choosing instead to just stay there almost challengingly, temptingly, tauntingly... Insolently.
"Honestly? I'm back to reclaim something I should never have lost."
Breaths coming faster, Brittany swallowed and, for all her natural grace, swayed back and forth slightly, unable to stay still upright. She refused to dignify that deliberately provoking statement with a reply, instead tucking her itchy hands into her pockets so she wouldn't be tempted to touch the beautiful face so close to hers.
Clearly amused, Santana had no such inhibitions. One hand lifted to gently caress Brittany's collarbone, dipping into the hollow at the base of her neck. "Aren't you going to ask about it? Once upon a time, you would have done so." Her voice was silky, a little mocking.
"Yeah well, I grew up." when a knock sounded at her door, Brittany tore her gaze away from Santana's deep brown eyes, starting to move towards it. Before she could take more than a couple of steps, slim fingers closed upon her shoulder, pulling her back around with enough force that she stumbled into the shorter woman's arms.
"I'm going to tell you anyway," The Latina murmured, breath dancing over the taller girl's face. When she noticed that Brittany's line of sight had dropped to her mouth, her smooth, sensual lips curved upwards as she allowed herself a few seconds to relish her victory before she crashed their lips together, dredging up memories long killed and buried the both of them oblivious to the incessant pounding on the door.