From what Mr. Schuester's Spanish substitute, Ms. Sanchez, could tell, Brittany and Santana were close. The curly haired, vest wearing, oily faced dancer had come down with mono of all things and had been out for the past week and a half, and was replaced with Ms. Sanchez, who in Santana's opinion, had an extreme likeness to a less attractive version of Sofia Vergara. Every morning, for the past week and a half, Ms. Sanchez watched as Brittany walked into her Spanish classroom, Santana always following closely behind. They'd take their place in the second row, and Brittany would show Santana her doodles or ask Santana to help her go over the homework, and Santana would smile widely and scoot a little closer to the blonde in acceptance.
During the lessons, Santana had no reason to pay attention and would usually spend her time running her fingers along Brittany's spine, or jotting down notes for the blonde that she would have otherwise missed. Brittany would be leaning forward in her seat, elbows propped on the table as she tried her best to listen Ms. Sanchez teach about conjugations. Ms. Sanchez noticed the way Santana's hand would disappear under the table, and a moment later, Brittany's would too.
When she gave out group work, she noticed that they didn't move from their seats. She noticed how Santana leaned in and would go over each sentence and word with Brittany carefully, and not just give away the answer. Not many other people picked up on the way Brittany would ever so slightly brush her nose against Santana's cheek for a moment, and Santana's lips curled into a small smile at the feeling. Maybe it was the blonde's way of saying thank you, something silent and secret that not even the substitute teacher could figure out.
Quizzes were the strongest indicator of the proximity of the two cheerleaders - at least on Brittany's end. For the most part, Brittany wasn't doing bad in Spanish. She had Santana, who spoke fluently at home, to help her out whenever she needed, and Spanish class was one of the only things at the moment that was guaranteeing Brittany's eventual graduation from McKinley. But occasionally Ms. Sanchez would sit down to grade the classes quizzes and come across Brittany's. Her handwriting was fast yet neat, bright pink letters screaming back at the substitute from the page. The answers started off for the most part correct and consistent, maybe because part one was multiple choice, but as the quizzes got longer, Brittany's answers became less and less accurate.
When Ms. Sanchez would near the end of Brittany's answers, she noticed that the last page, while the answers were in Spanish, they were completely off topic. In rushed, messy writing (probably due to the time running out) underneath the questions, ranged answers in Spanish from 'Santana Lopez has my heart,' 'Santana has soft skin and warm eyes,' to 'I wish the boy at the front of the class stopped turning around to look at Santana.' Okay, that one she may have gotten help with from the very subject of the sentence; most likely resulting in confusion on Santana's part, but compliance nonetheless. Ms. Sanchez usually delivered half credit for these answers; as they were usually written in almost perfect Spanish.
She noticed that when she handed these quizzes back, Santana would leave hers face down on the desk until Brittany received hers, and when she did, the Latina would help Brittany by comparing their short answer responses. Each time Brittany's grade rose even a little closer to Santana's, the pair celebrated by Santana's chair trying ever so desperately to be subtle as it slid closer to Brittany's, and their shoulders brushed. Santana would read over Brittany's quiz, and when she got to the last page, she'd try her best to suppress the smile that almost overcame her face.
During one of these moments, Santana caught Ms. Sanchez's eye, and the older woman would offer her a grin, almost as if saying your secret is safe with me. She'd see that she was saying something to Brittany, quietly, but she'd still notice the super subtle blush on Santana's cheeks. Maybe the young Latina thought nobody was looking, or they were all distracted by their own tests, but Ms. Sanchez thought it was a bold move when her fingers laced with Brittany's - though briefly - on top of Brittany's sparkly pink folder.
At the end of the period, Santana would gather all of her things, and also take Brittany's textbook and folder in her arms, and still have on hand available to lace her pinky with Brittany's. And Brittany would give Santana a smile, a small quirk of her upper lip and an angle of her brow, that Ms. Sanchez almost felt was inappropriate for her to be witnessing; it felt intimate in nature.
Yes, from what Ms. Sanchez could tell, Brittany and Santana were close.