Santana and Brittany, in preparation for their first high school party, curled their hair, applied evening make-up, and traded street clothes for freshly pressed Cheerios uniforms. After severe scrutiny and eventual approval from the other, they made their way to Noah Puckerman's house. This was the same year he shaved his head into that signature mohawk and insisted that people call him Puck. He was man-candy and an impressive status symbol. He would be Santana's at all cost.
The girls walked up the steps, linked by their elbows, and Santana opened the front door. They were instantly assaulted with stale, humid air that escaped through the open door. The lights were turned low and a mass of people bobbed beside the stereo system. Santana spotted various members of the cheer squad mingling, but couldn't hear anything over the thumping bass. Brittany watched the shifting group in a daze.
"Sexy ladies, welcome to Puck land," Puck shouted, appearing, seemingly, from nowhere and ushered them inside. He handed them each a red solo cup, the contents of which were green.
"What the hell is this?" Santana asked, but Brittany had already gulped her entire drink and handed the drained cup back to Puck. Santana gawked, just coming to the realization that Brittany could drink her under the table. She felt a swell of pride.
"All right, seconds for the blonde bombshell and I'll make another for you while I'm at it," he said before slipping away into the crowd.
After losing Puck's trail, Santana noticed Brittany's mouth moving but could barely hear her. She stepped closer, tilting her ear toward the taller girl. Brittany's breath tickled the shell of Santana's ear and she shivered. "I want to dance," Brittany said, tugging at Santana's wrist. Santana shook her head and pointed to her drink. Brittany pouted.
"You can go dance if you want. I'll be right here," Santana said.
"But I want to dance with you," Brittany whined.
"Well, I need at least three of these in me before I start getting all jiggy with it," Santana said, taking a generous gulp from her cup. It tasted like sour apple and vodka. "Whoa, scratch that. It will take two. No more than that." Brittany smirked. "How did you drink that so fast?" Santana inquired vehemently.
Brittany shrugged. "It tasted like a tootsie pop, but without the gross chocolate part in the middle," Brittany said.
"Britt, they don't make apple flavored tootsie pops," Santana said. She followed Brittany's example and chugged her drink. She winced.
"I'm pretty sure it's a new flavor," Brittany began.
As if on cue, Puck reappeared with more drinks. They were filled to the brim, neon liquid sloshing over the edge. Santana clasped her hand over the wet surface. She took one sip, and when she looked up Brittany had, again, emptied her glass. Brittany wobbled slightly, or swayed to the music, Santana wasn't entirely sure. That's when Brittany turned on the spot, leaving without a word.
Brittany glided gracefully through the horde and started dancing with one of the burlier football players. Finn and his girlfriend Quinn surveyed the crowd, but Finn's eyes settled on Brittany, who shimmied playfully. Quinn jabbed him hard in the ribs and he looked away promptly, but he kept stealing glances out of the corner of his eye. Quinn either didn't notice or ignored this.
Puck tried to make conversation, asking about cheer practice, but Santana disengaged when he launched into a detailed account of the most recent McKinley High football game. She was there for God's sake.
Santana watched Brittany laugh and teasingly swat Tim's chest. She danced another risqué song with the boy and Santana noticed that Tim could hardly keep up. Suddenly Brittany stopped moving, and Santana silently protested. Britt pressed herself against the football player and whispered something in his ear. The two exchanged a look and took off down the hallway hand-in-hand. Santana thought about following, just to make sure she didn't do something she would regret, but she was distracted by Puck's hand waving in her face, her thought lost.
"Want another drink?" he asked.
Santana looked down at her empty cup. She couldn't remember finishing it, but she did feel lightheaded and a little off kilter. She shook her head in response, which caused her to teeter. Puck wrapped his arms around Santana protectively. The sharp stench of alcohol mixed with overpowering cologne engulfed her senses. She couldn't help but remember this summer when they lay in his bed sticky with sweat.
"That was fucking hot," Puck breathed, a smirk playing on his lips.
Santana lay on her back, searching out patterns in the textured ceiling. She couldn't understand why it wasn't like everyone said it would be. Sex was supposed to be fun, but this felt like a chore. At least Puckerman seemed to enjoy himself.
Puck propped himself up on one arm to face Santana. "What gives? I let you ride the Puckasaurus and now you're giving me the silent treatment."
Santana glared. "Not that this wasn't great, but I've got to go," she said, getting out of bed and collecting her strewn clothes.
"Come on. I've got a round two left in me."
"I'll pass," she said as she closed the door to his room and left.
Santana sighed into Puck's chest, fighting back the tears that always seemed to spring up when she'd been drinking. It wasn't that Puck was bad at sex, on the contrary, he was one of the best Santana had been with, but there was something missing, something that Santana couldn't quite identify.
Puck buried his face in Santana's neck and sucked playfully at the exposed skin. Santana wasn't really in the mood, but when Puck was horny he would get it wherever he could and it might as well be with her. He was her property, and he was hands off to everyone else.
A little later in the night, Brittany emerged from a closed door down the hall with the football player in tow. She adjusted her skirt, which Santana could clearly see was on backward, and smoothed her hair. She came bounding over with a big grin and tapped Puck on the shoulder.
"What? You want in?" Puck asked. "Two ladies and one Puck, that's my kind of party."
"Britt," Santana hissed. She detached herself from Puck and grabbed Britt's wrist, tugging her toward the bathroom. Puck could be unsupervised for a few minutes.
Once inside she shut the door and locked it. "What were you thinking?" Santana accused.
"I know he was kissing you, but you didn't really look like you liked it that much, so I figured it would be okay to interrupt. I thought maybe I was saving you," Brittany said.
"Huh? Well, yeah, but that's beside the point. I meant, why were you screwing around with Tim?"
"He was being really nice to me, so I decided to be nice back."
"By doing the nasty?"
"Yeah," Brittany said simply.
"You can't just sleep around Brittany. It's not good for your image," Santana said, tugging Brittany's skirt into its proper place.
"You sleep with Puck."
"That's different. Puck gets me ten rungs up the ladder of social standing, Britt. It's like the difference between getting two tickets and 100 tickets when playing skee ball."
"I don't care about the tickets. I just want to have fun."
"Well, I care about you and I don't want you having sex with every sausage-fingered ape that says you're pretty."
"He didn't-"
"Deserve you," Santana finished her sentence for her. "Now, let's get you back out on the dance floor and no more trips to empty rooms."
"We're in an empty room," Brittany said, arching one eyebrow.
"This doesn't count."
Just before the girls left the bathroom Brittany murmured, "Thanks, San."
Later in the evening and two more drinks in, Brittany was dancing in only her sports bra and Cheerios skirt. The misplaced top was never recovered and the two girls were forced to persuade an irate Sue Sylvester to order a new one later that week.
Brittany danced alone, politely pushing anyone who got too close away from her, but that didn't keep the perverted drunks from trying. Santana sat on the couch, wedged between an overzealous freshman and the current captain of the cheer squad. She couldn't take much more of this idle chit chat, so she stood. When she did her eyes locked with Brittany's across the room, and she smiled in a way that Santana had never seen before. Maybe it was because she was drunk, well, they were both pretty drunk.
Santana intended to grab another unnecessary drink, but Brittany was suddenly blocking her path to the kitchen. She had a slight sheen to her body and small beads of sweat had collected just below her hairline. Santana wiped them away and patted her hand dry on her skirt. It was just one of the many gestures they did. Brittany unexpectedly grabbed both of Santana's hands and walked backward through the throng. They ended up right next to the sub woofer, so close in fact, that Santana could feel the beat pulsing through her chest and down the muscles in her legs.
Brittany moved back and forth, gently guiding Santana at an arms length. At this distance Santana couldn't help but admire Brittany's chest. She wondered when she had filled out so nicely and why she was missing her shirt. Santana stepped forward and Brittany mirrored, wrapping her arms around Santana's back as she did so. Brittany's skin was damp, but not entirely unpleasant.
Brittany whispered in Santana's ear, "You owe me a dance."
"Isn't that what we're doing?" Santana replied.
Brittany pulled Santana impossibly closer. "A real dance," she said as she rolled her body into Santana's. She could feel Brittany's chest press against hers and her hips bump against her stomach. Santana felt a jolt from her abdomen and her hips involuntarily complied. Santana glanced around the room, uncomfortable with the fact that people could see, but Brittany gently nudged her face back toward her and smiled so sweetly that Santana's apprehension melted away.
Brittany twirled Santana around, so that her backside was facing Brittany's front. She rolled her hips from side to side with Santana in unison. Brittany drew Santana toward her and ran her hand playfully up her side. Santana was thankful she was facing away from Brittany because she was certain, even with her tanned skin and the darkened room, that her blush was evident.
Brittany pressed her pelvis into Santana's rear and Santana's eyes fluttered closed. She relished in Brittany's fluidity, and the sensuality of their connected bodies swaying together. She fit perfectly between Brittany's sharp hip bones.
Santana reached back, gripping Brittany's hips as she rocked forward. Brittany slid her fingers under the hem of Santana's shirt and tickled her abs. She shuddered and a heated tightness spread from her bellybutton down. Santana's eyes snapped open and she wriggled from under Brittany's grasp. It wasn't supposed to feel that good.
She stormed away, trying to calm her furiously beating heart. Shit, shit, shit, she chanted with every violent thump. She glanced over her shoulder, and the shocked and hurt look on Brittany's face was just enough to send Santana weeping into the bathroom.
She pressed her lips to crook of her elbow, stifling her sobs. There was a tap on the door and Santana could hear Quinn just outside bickering with who she could only assume was Finn. "She's been in there for twenty minutes," she huffed. "No. I don't know what's wrong. She always bawls when she's had too much to drink. I said I don't know. Anything can set her off." A moment of silence passed and then she heard Quinn's voice much louder. She must have been right up against the door this time. "Santana, its Quinn. Let me in." The door handle jostled, but it was locked. "Fine, I'll go find Brittany," she said, sounding further away. She must have been talking to Finn again.
Santana scrambled to the door and opened it violently. "Goldilocks in. Bigfoot out," Santana said, shoving Finn away and grabbing Quinn by the collar of her uniform. Santana quickly wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and glared at Quinn. "If you need to piss you can just do it," Santana said, motioning to the toilet, "because I'm not leaving anytime soon," she snapped.
"I actually came to see if you were okay," Quinn retorted in a similar tone.
All she could think to do was lie. "Just because I have to take a shit? God, Quinn, ever heard of personal space?"
"You don't have to tell me what you're upset about. I just need to get you out of here. There's a line all the way down the hall."
Santana perked up at this. "Shit. Drunk people and bathrooms," she said under her breath, laughing internally at the irony.
"Clean up first," Quinn said somberly before exiting.
Once Quinn shut the door, Santana looked at her reflection. Dark mascara smudges trailed down her cheeks. She grunted, unraveling three times as much toilet paper than she needed, and wiped away the blemish. Her irises were unusually dark as she spoke to her mirror image, "You can do this. It's no big deal. You only got fucking turned on by your best friend," her voice rose in pitch and then cracked by the end of her unsuccessful pep-talk. She slammed her fists down on the edge of the sink in frustration. She steadied herself with a deep breath which she released slowly. One. Two. Three. Move your ass Lopez.
When she opened the door she was face to face with a small jovial brunette with an abnormally large nose. "Thank goodness you've finished because I've had way too much to drink, not that I drink alcohol because that would damage my impeccable singing voice, but I really do need to use the restroom," the girl wearing white knee-high socks and a reindeer sweater said at lightening speed before scrambling into the bathroom.
"It's all yours, RuPaul," Santana called after the girl.
Santana caught up with Quinn and relinquished a weak smile. "I didn't know there would be midgets at this party," Santana quipped. Quinn looked confused for a moment then snickered knowingly.
"Brittany's been searching for you. She looked really concerned," Quinn said, "and yet she's the one who seems to have lost her shirt."
"I'll go find her," Santana begrudgingly offered.
Santana didn't particularly want to locate Brittany because it would mean that she would have to explain her bizarre behavior, but she couldn't leave Brittany alone in her current state. As Santana shoved her way through groups of hot, sweaty bodies, she tried to reassure herself that Brittany wouldn't even remember anything in the morning, so there was no need to worry. Heck, she might not even remember any of this.
Santana searched throughout the entire house to no avail. She was actually beginning to panic. What if Brittany left with someone she didn't know? Santana concocted an entire scenario where Brittany's mutilated body was the headlining story for tomorrow's local news.
To calm her nerves, Santana went outside on the porch to get some fresh air, feeling the breeze chill her bare arms and legs. She rested her head in her hands, just about ready to give up when she heard a familiar voice chatting away. Brittany was sitting in the grass talking to Puck's dog a few yards in the distance.
Santana walked up behind Brittany and spoke in a soft voice, "Are you seriously talking to Scooter? I promise you he won't talk back."
"Maybe not with words. Lord Tubbington is always really honest when I talk to him, like when I come home from dance and I smell really bad he tells me to take a shower, or when I caught him smoking and confronted him he didn't deny it. It's all in the eyes," Brittany said in earnest.
Santana rolled her eyes and lifted Brittany under the arms, setting her upright. Without a word she led her around the back of the house and through the front gate.
"Where are we going?" Brittany asked after they were a few houses down the road.
"We're going home," Santana answered instantaneously. She charged ahead, leaving Brittany lagging one pace behind.
"Why are you mad?" Brittany asked, and Santana shot her a stern look of denial. "Well, your face is all scrunched up and your arms are crossed. Plus you haven't really talked to me since we danced."
"We talked. I told you to stop yakking at Puck's stupid dog and go home."
"Why did you run away?" Brittany asked, stopping abruptly. Santana walked a few more steps and then stopped as well. "If you didn't want to dance you could have just said so," Brittany added. Santana stared. If she blinked she might tear up for the third time tonight.
"I-it's not that I didn't want to," Santana said cautiously.
"Why did you run away?" Brittany repeated.
"If I promise to tell you later will you drop it?" Santana pleaded. She could tell Brittany was debating, weighing her options.
Brittany nodded slowly. "Yeah, okay," she said, her voice laced with uncertainty.
The rest of the walk to Brittany's house was quiet, but not excruciatingly so. Santana walked Brittany to her door and chanced a look at her exposed shoulders. The muscles of her neck sloped perfectly into athletic curves and her chest swelled with each breath. "If Puck finds your shirt you'll never get it back," Santana said, forcing her eyes to meet crystal blue ones. Her heart leapt into her throat and she felt that same jolt in her abdomen.
"Yeah, Puck's kind of gross. I don't think I would want it back," Brittany said, her nose wrinkling slightly. Santana sighed internally at the cute gesture, and reprimanded herself for thinking it in the first place.
"Good night, Britt," Santana said, waving goodbye, but Brittany pulled her into a tight hug instead. Santana slumped against Brittany's warm skin, burying her face in golden hair. She could feel herself sink comfortably into the peach scent she always exuded. Her cheek rested against the soft slope she had previously admired. Warmth radiated from Brittany's naked flesh to Santana's parted lips. They were close enough that if Santana moved ever so slightly she could graze the skin with her lips. Santana sighed, pushing her inappropriate thoughts to the back of her mind. She let go of the blonde, but her heart persisted its rapid cadence.
Good night, San," Brittany said in a small voice before retreating inside.
"I'm fucked," Santana huffed when she was finally alone.
A/N: I'm not sure where I'm going with this or if I should even continue. Reviews would be much appreciated. Thanks for reading.