A/N: Okay so, this story is dedicated to It's Brittana who PM'd me requesting pigeon/Santana as a secret agent on behalf of a forum after the beauty that was the last episode, and i got my hands on that lovely clip of the 'surprise pigeon' which gets funnier every time LOL. Anyways, i told them I'd think about it after my exams but i wrote one today and my last exam is in 12 hours and since I need a break I wrote this. It's not exactly secret agent, but hopefully kind of what was wanted? I don't know. Hope it's funny?
Disclaimer: Do not own Glee or it's great characters, just write about them for fun.
How about i call this one 'Pigeon Love' because I can't think of anything clever...er.
Brittany didn't tip her cab driver because he ran a red light. Like, she was a respected official in the CIA. She couldn't let him get away with that.
With a quick glance at her wrist watch, she realizes she's half an hour late for her… meeting. No, date. Date? No, meeting.
"I really should not be sleeping with her," Brittany says out loud as she enters the restaurant, ignoring the waiter who stutters questionably at her blazing entry and flash of her CIA-issued badge. Nobody ever questioned the badge, especially when sunglasses accompanied it.
She spots 'her' easily. Playing with a fork, looking kind of sad and lonely… but oh-so hot.
"Hi."
Taking a seat, Brittany doesn't apologize for being late.
"Hey!" The Head The Special Activities Divisions in the CIA, youngest and sexiest one ever, perks up like Brittany is a Christmas Present on Christmas Day and drops the fork back into it's place.
She makes to stand up but bumps the table and spills some water. So she sits back down her tan face flushed in horror and dabs at it with the white napkin.
Brittany flips the menu open and ignores her superior's faux pas.
The Head of SAD is dressed to the nines with perfect makeup, a nice red lipstick, tasteful jewelry, and a shimmering navy dress.
"I can't be too long," Brittany tells Santana Lopez's stupidly beautiful face, ignoring the way it falls and the instant hope dissolved.
"Yeah, no, I get it." Santana assures her, nodding along that it was cool even though it was obviously not cool. A waiter comes by and quickly gives Santana a new napkin as well as a water refill before scurrying off.
Brittany finds Santana's expressions are lame, and the way she always lets Brittany treat her with indifference and booty calls is even lamer.
Like, she has no game. She blushes and tries too hard… Santana Lopez was…
Brittany narrows her eyes as Santana's phone rings. She picks it up with a groan, and that pathetic 'please love me' face morphs into hot 'all business' face.
There it was. When she didn't try, Santana was one thousand percent full of game.
"What?" Santana bites out, her eyes darting back to Brittany before she hangs up and sighs. "Well I won't be staying long either."
"Who was that?" Brittany asks.
"Classified," is Santana's typical reply to all things.
That right there, her refusal to give Brittany info, is what makes this date worth it. It was pound time. Britt's libido just went – in the poetic words of Rihanna - from zero to sixty in three point five.
When you worked in covert ops and things were covert in covert ops? Total turn on.
"How about we skip?"
"I ordered your fav-" Santana stops talking when Brittany reaches over and presses a finger to her babbling lips.
"Pay the bill and meet me out front," she commands.
She stands up and winks before leaving Santana at the table with that furious blush, smirking to herself when something behind her thuds.
/
They first met in Camp Peary AKA The Farm years ago. It was just the two of them in the hall and Santana tripped and fell face forward. There was blood. Brittany helped her up and greeted her and then they never crossed paths again.
Until Santana was appointed in Washington. And Brittany was appointed in Washington. So they, like, met again in Washington.
First that mission where Santana accidentally killed a pigeon happened, and then when their mission was a success that drunken celebration turned into a moan-athon and Santana constantly asked her out which led to more moan-athons.
Why only Brittany witnessed Santana do tons of stupid shit like yelp and shoot down pigeons with her silencer, trip over her own feet in halls, get slushied by little ballerina girls who yeah were kind of evil but still just little ballerina girls, and walk into lamposts, Brittany will never know.
Like, from those situations alone she didn't think Santana deserved her catapult promotions or was capable of that stellar record she had. Who has the time to recover that much intelligence?
But everyone else coined Santana Lopez the 'best' or whatever.
What was awesome though, was that Santana's obvious crush on her became a series of hookups that were pretty damn good. Sure Brittany witnessed all of that embarrassing shit and still slept with Santana a lot but whatever. A hot available girl wanted her and Brittany was just being nice.
Girl was a clumsy klutz around Brittany, but at least when they fucked she was precise and great.
"Oh yeah, just like that," Brittany tilts her head back into the brick wall and closes her eyes.
When Santana presses and sucks harder, she hears herself moan raggedly like a porn star. She came back for more because it was so damn good.
Oh yeah. Just like that.
She licks her lips and then adjusts her standard black suit pants by bringing them and and her thong back up over her hips to re-fasten and catch her breath.
Santana stands up and wipes her face with a napkin.
"Is that from inside?" Brittany raises en eyebrow, pointing her thumb back at the restaurant across the street.
Santana pauses and looks embarrassed.
Brittany doesn't get why she is, it's just a question. Then again, whenever she spoke directly to Santana the woman became a flurry of stutters and lameness.
"Uh… right… well, you um… I mean…"
"Let's do lunch on the weekend," Brittany says only because she feels bad for her stuttering 'boss.'
"Yeah totally!" Santana agrees eagerly like a dog getting food.
Ugh. Brittany tucks in her blouse and leaves first, not rolling her eyes too hard.
/
Okay so, the reason Santana annoyed her so much was because Brittany hated how she felt around the 'best' agent bound to be Director one day.
No matter what stupid thing Santana did, Brittany still wanted to have sex with her. It was exhausting and fucked up.
Wasn't the love of your life supposed to be a more romantic thing? Not some random person you witness trip on nothing and bleed all over the place, not some doofus idiot who killed a pigeon because it startled her when she was fixing her hair, and most definitely not someone who eats their pizza crust because like who does that?
"I like it," Santana mumbles dejectedly.
Brittany feels like their dancing has gone on long enough.
"Well, you can eat mine if you want," She offers.
"I'm full," Santana says before her hand betrays her and darts out to eat Brittany's crust too.
"How was LA?" Brittany asks.
"Classified," Santana says apologetically.
"I asked how it was, not what – damn. Whenever you say that word I want to kiss you."
She leaned forward on her couch – they were hanging out in Brittany's apartment – and started kissing Santana.
But, since she was an awesome Special Agent and all… she realized something
"Wait, you dropped the pizza crust in anticipation to kiss me when you said classified."
"Yeah so?" Santana mumbles, trying to lean forward again.
Brittany ducks her head away.
"You totally say that so we can… but… huh?"
Like, no. Santana was her fiddle. She played Santana, Santana did so not play –
"I am so turned on by you right now," Brittany whispers before pouncing on her like a hungry dog on its meal.
Santana falls back with an 'oof' of pain but just goes with it as Brittany's hands go under her shirt and Brittany's lips slither all over her neck.
Santana breathes heavy, gasping whenever she's sensitive from a touch.
Brittany raises her head to look her in the eyes , "you're such a dork."
Santana's lips tremble. Either Brittany hurt her feelings or the finger Brittany has on her nipple is—
When Santana presses her own hand over Brittany's to stop her finger, Brittany realizes it's the nipple thing. No hurt feelings. Awesome.
After kissing more, Santana's lets out an odd whimper that Brittany hasn't heard before.
"What?" Brittany then realizes that actually Santana does look hurt, she's wincing.
"I have some bruised ribs," Santana wheezes out.
Sitting up instantly, Brittany is horrified. "Oh my god! Why didn't you stop me?"
"Because sex is the only time I can connect with you," Santana says sadly.
"We connect just fine," Brittany gets off of her and then surprises the both of them with tenderly combing Santana's hair back.
"We do?" Santana raises an eyebrow. "Because all our dates are incomplete, I can literally yell beautiful dialogues at people who screw up but can't seem say a damn word to you about anything without choking and doing something totally embarrassing and lame."
Brittany soaks in that sentence and tries to calm her beating heart down before she can reply sincerely, "well… yeah you do… but I like it."
And she does.
She's annoyed with a lot of things Santana does, but only because of the way Santana makes her feel. Santana makes her feel lame and gooey.
"You… you do?" Santana looks shocked.
"I do," Brittany rolls her eyes and sits back down on the couch with a sigh. "Let's just… hang out. And talk."
"Yeah," Santana says shyly, "I would like that."
There a lot of things Brittany wants to tell Santana. Like, that when she tripped and bled all over the place, her ass looked great. And when those little girls threw slushies on her, her white shirt got all see-through and what was underneath looked really sexy. And, when she shot that pigeon down, it proved she had excellent marksmanship.
And mostly how when they kissed goodnight after talking for three hours on her couch about random shit, she was more than a sexual object Brittany had grown to appreciate sex with – she was truly beautiful and worth it.
Maybe for the first time, Brittany felt lucky in her life.
Fin.