A/N: I'm not particularly good at this kind of writing, so I figured I'd try to fill a few GKM prompts to work on it. Uh, disclaimer, I know absolutely nothing about cheerleading. Sorry, folks!

Filled from here: glee-kink-meme . /36785 . html?thread=48643249#t48643249

Find me on Tumblr: .com

It all began at a party.

Well, that's partly true. It had really probably all begun the moment they first met, but Santana had only become aware of it at Rick's party about a month ago.

She wasn't drunk, which was rare for her. She had been drinking, yes, but she knew she had to get Brittany home later that evening, and she didn't want to end up spending the night on Rick's couch- or worse, in his bed.

And god, were these things boring when she wasn't drunk.

There was a group of people awkwardly dancing in Rick's living room, the bass from the radio pounding as they tried their best to look sexy. Santana thought they just looked like idiots. There were the boys playing beer pong in the dining room. Every few minutes the room would break out in loud cheers, one of the guys beating their chests in victory. If she had been drinking, she might have tried to join their game (after all, she loved winning, and she was sure she could beat any of their sorry asses, no matter how drunk she was).

Instead, she was standing in the corner, listening to Puck as he told her stories from his childhood that she would have had to be an absolute idiot to believe.

She had never wanted to come to this party in the first place. Brittany had practically dragged her, saying that they never 'went out and did anything fun anymore'. That wasn't even true. Sure, they hadn't been to a party in at least a month, and maybe they only spent their free time at one another's houses, but they were busy with glee club and Cheerios and each other. If Santana were being completely honest she would have much rather have been at home, gossiping with Brittany about boys, than here, actually talking to them.

But Brittany had wanted, and so Brittany had received. It was kind of the way things worked in their friendship, but Santana couldn't really complain. No one else could put up with her smart remarks for long enough to be considered a friend. Not that that was the only reason she was friends with Brittany. It was definitely a bonus, though.

So here she was, bored out of her mind, talking to Puck. It wasn't that she minded the guy all that much, if she was being completely honest. She would even consider him a friend in some situations. When Brittany had put on her best puppy eyes and asked to go to the party, Santana knew she would probably end up in the bathroom or some empty bedroom with Puck pressing her against the wall or a sink or something. It wasn't like she minded all that much. The sex wasn't the worst she had ever had, and he at least liked to talk to her, even if it was just about himself.

"So, this fifth grader- I kid you not, the dick was six feet tall- comes up to me on the playground and he-"

"There you are!" a voice shouts, and suddenly Santana is knocked into the wall as someone wraps their arms around her. "I've been looking for you," they giggle in her ear, and Santana immediately recognizes the voice.

"Britt, you're drunk," she laughs, pushing Brittany into a standing position. Brittany doesn't try to deny it, just cocks her head to the side and smiles.

"I've been looking for you," she repeats, and Santana smiles at her drunken best friend. She knows she's supposed to be annoyed with drunk people, but she just can't help but think Brittany is adorable when she's had a few too many.

"You said that," she comments, arching a brow. "I've been here, talking to Puck."

Brittany's eyes light up as if she's just seeing Puck there for the first time.

"Puck!" she shouts, and leans up to hug him. Puck smiles and wraps his arm around Brittany, and Santana is half tempted to punch him in the face with how smug he's looking.

"Brittany," Puck says, squeezing her tight. She giggles, and Santana tightens her fists. She's oddly protective of her best friend. Brittany is sweet and innocent, and Santana hates it when people try to take advantage of that. Which, knowing Puck, was exactly what he was trying to do. "I didn't know you were here!"

"Yeah," she replies as she pulls away, nodding. "I've been over there with-oh! We're playing truth or dare!" she suddenly remembers, her smile widening. She looks at Santana with a devious glint in her eye.

"We're playing truth or dare," she repeats, and Santana almost starts to make fun of her for repeating herself again, but she never gets to. Before she knows what's happening, Brittany's lips are pressed against her own.

Santana feels the room drop out from around her, because what the actual fuck is happening? Brittany's lips are now slowly moving against hers, trying to entice her to kiss her back. Brittany's hand comes around front, cupping her cheek gently and rubbing her thumb against the flushed skin she finds there, and Santana can't help it. She melts.

Something snaps inside of her, and her lips are parting gently and Brittany's tongue is poking at them and Jesus Christ she must have had more to drink than she thought because did she just moan? She must have because Brittany is smiling against her lips now, her hand moving away from her cheek to fist in her hair, and Santana hands twitch to move forward, to pull Brittany in closer, when-

"I told you she would do it!"

"Go, Pierce!"

"Holy hell, that's hot."

The last one is from Puck, and it snaps Santana out of her stupor. She pushes Brittany away quickly, but it doesn't seem to affect the blonde at all. She's grinning goofily at her, flashing her a smile before turning around and shouting "your turn, Mike!"

Santana's pretty sure her life will never be the same.

And judging by the drool on his chin, neither will Puck's.

She isn't sure how she spent so much of her life not realizing how undeniably attractive her best friend was. Especially since 90% of the time they're together, she's wearing a cheerleading skirt that barely reaches her mid thigh.

It's not like she's gay or anything like that. No, she's Santana Lopez and she's slept with practically every guy on the football team. She loves men, the attention they give her, the way they'll fall over their feet to try and get her to pay attention to them. They're one of her favorite pastimes, really.

So she knows she doesn't like Brittany like that. Obviously not, no, because it doesn't feel at all the same with her as it has with the numerous guys.

It's probably normal to notice these sorts of things about your best friend, anyway. Or maybe she's hormonal, or it's just she hasn't been getting some enough lately because of the stupid glee club, or maybe she's just making it all up in her head. She doesn't like Brittany. She can't.

She does like Brittany's legs in that skirt though, and the way her hips move in Cheerio practice and the way that she has this little smile, just for her that-

No, she doesn't like Brittany. That'd be gay, and that is one thing Santana Lopez definitely is not. She just thinks her best friend is super hot. It's not like she's going to act on it or anything. That would definitely make her gay.

And the way her mind keeps wandering back to the kiss between them isn't gay, either. They haven't talked about it since, and Santana likes it that way. It wasn't a big deal. It's not like she enjoyed it so much because she was kissing her best friend, who just so happened to be a girl. She was just a little drunk and surprised and probably turned on because she knew she was going to be sleeping with Puck within the hour. Right, that's why. She was so turned on by Puck, a guy, that she let a little of her pent up frustration out on Brittany. No big deal.

It doesn't really explain why, for the next month after that, every time Brittany's fingers graze hers or their eyes lock for just a little too long her heart begins to race and she feels the blood rushing to her cheeks.

It doesn't really explain why, later that evening when she's fucking Puck in Rick's bed she closes her eyes and thinks about Brittany, the way her lips collided with hers and the way her fist tightened in her hair when their tongues pushed against one another.

It doesn't explain any of these things, but Santana's okay with that, because she's decided she's not going to think about it anymore. What would be the point, anyway? She's not gay. She doesn't want Brittany.

She sometimes just likes to let her gaze linger on her for a little too long in the locker room, that's all. She gets distracted thinking about her math homework, or something, and then she realizes she's been staring at Brittany's chest and when she looks up, Brittany's wearing that smirk again. It's not her fault that she cares so much about her schoolwork. She's sure Brittany would understand.

Santana Lopez is not gay.

"Ouch," Brittany winces as she settles against the locker room bench. "This really hurts..."

"Sorry," Santana comments, frowning. She feels a little guilty that her best friend is in so much pain. Scratch that, she feels a lot guilty that Brittany is in pain. It is her fault, after all.

Okay, so maybe she isn't gay, per se, but she certainly does have a leering problem. A leering problem, which, unfortunately has landed her with Brittany in the locker room, an icepack pressed against her leg. She usually tries to save her admiration for Brittany's body until after practice, but that day…

She never should have been a base to begin with, anyway. She's neither strong nor tall, but for some odd reason Sue had her basing for this routine. It wasn't a particularly hard one (they'd definitely seen worse last year, when Sue was in one of her rampages). They'd been running it for hours, actually, without incident. They had had it right by the second or third run-through, but coach wasn't having any of it, making them repeat the same moves until they'd lost count of how many times they'd been doing them.

"Sandbags, switch places with Pippy Longstocking up front. If I have to stare at her bright red hair for one more second I'll go blind," the coach booms over the megaphone. A girl walks out of formation, head bowed in shame, and Santana moves to take her place. Brittany is beaming at her from the front of the formation, and she doesn't figure out why until Brittany grabs her hand and pulls her next to her, saying "you're with me now!"

They go through the routine a few more times, and Santana's actually glad that coach moved her with Brittany because she's much more confident than the other flyer. She does every move perfectly.

On the forth go, Santana looks up at just the wrong moment, as Brittany's leg swings back into an arabesque, and she ends up with the most glorious view up the girl's skirt. She spends a decent amount of time admiring the girl's legs, but to see her like this, leg muscles flexed and her spanks clinging tightly to her perfectly formed-

She feels Brittany begin to fall before she registers that she's even messed anything up. Her heart feels like it drops out of her stomach but she can't do anything. Brittany is twisting backwards, crashing towards the ground. Santana feels a rush of relief when the spotter scoops underneath her arms, Santana left holding her leg awkwardly.

"Oh my god, Britt, are you okay?" rushes out of her mouth. Brittany's eyes are squeezed tight and she's breathing through her teeth.

"Coach?" she calls out, and Santana looks up as Sue rushes over. Sure, the woman is a heartless bitch sometimes, but she does seem to care about her star cheerleader's health, for the most part.

"Where does it hurt, sunshine?" she asks, kneeling next to Brittany who is now lying on the grass.

"It's not bad, I think I just pulled something in my leg," she says, wincing as she rubs the area. Sue pulls up Brittany's skirt and Santana looks away. A few seconds later, she's nodding and standing up.

"Looks that way. Sandbags!" Santana's head snaps up. "Since this mess is your fault, I want you to take her to the locker room to get her things, then drive her home. Capisce?"

She nods tightly, before leaning down to let Brittany wrap her arm around her shoulder. With the help of one of the other cheerleaders, she gets her on her feet and wobbling towards the locker room.

Brittany sits and waits while she gathers both of their things, carrying one backpack on each shoulder.

"Do you think you can walk?" she asks. Brittany nods, but as she begins to stand the pain is obvious on her face.

"Here," Santana offers, taking one of the bags off of her back and holding it in her hand instead. She holds her available arm out to Brittany. "Let me help."

They walk this way to Santana's car, and Brittany gingerly lowers herself into the seat while she throws their book bags in her back seat.

They ride in silence for a few minutes before Santana finally breaks it, saying: "I'm so sorry I dropped you."

Brittany raises her eyes in surprise. "It wasn't you fault, San," she insists, shaking her head.

"Yeah, it was. I just… I lost track of what we were doing, and I held on for you for way too long and now you're hurt, and I'm really-"

"Santana. It's okay," Brittany interrupts her sternly, reaching forward and grabbing her hand where it rests on the gearshift. "It's just a pulled muscle, anyway. It's nothing a little ice and a massage won't fix!"

"A massage?" Santana says, quirking her brow quizzically. "And where exactly are you thinking of getting one of those?"

Brittany grins at her.

"Well, you know, I figured that since you're the one who dropped me, and you're so, so sorry…"

"You want me to massage your leg?" Santana's mind goes blank.

"Well… I mean, if you don't want to that's fine, I was just kidding around," Brittany says, a hint of disappointment in her voice.

"No, no!" Santana insists suddenly, embarrassed by her own eagerness. "I'd uh… I'd love to. I mean- it's the least I can do, anyway.

"Yeah?" Brittany is grinning again now, and Santana swallows thickly as she nods her head.

Not twenty minutes later, they're up in Brittany's room, sitting on her bed. Brittany's turned on her iTunes, and Santana is surprised when relatively normal music pumps out. Brittany has some unique tastes, but Santana is pleased to learn that she has an entire playlist dedicated to soft, relaxing music, and the "Monster Mash" does not quite fit the description.

"So, uh… let's do this," Santana says, clapping her hands awkwardly together. Brittany looks at her strangely before smiling.

"What do you need me to do?" she asks, sitting up to face her.

"I'm going to need you to take off your skirt," Santana suggests, ignoring the way she feels heat raising to her cheeks at her own words.

"What?" Brittany sounds just as embarrassed by the idea as Santana is as she looks at her with wide eyes.

"Well, the strain is pretty high up, and it's not like I'm gonna sit here with my hand up your skirt, Britt," Santana says, rolling her eyes. "Just take it off," she repeats, shrugging. Brittany furrows her brow for a second before nodding.

"Okay," she agrees, before hooking her fingers into her skirt and spanks and pulling them down. Santana averts her eyes, because even though she had been the one to tell Brittany to take off clothes, the sight still made her heart beat a little too excitedly for comfort.

"Okay, now lay down," she commands, and Brittany listens, resting her head against the piles of pillows near her headboard as she does so. Santana sits near her legs awkwardly, letting her eyes focus on the leg she'll be attending to. She finds herself entranced by the girl's legs, admiring the smooth skin and firm muscle of her thighs. A few seconds go by like this before Brittany sits up, and Santana's shakes herself out of her stupor to meet Brittany's eyes. She looks concerned, and Santana immediately begins to worry that Brittany has noticed, that she freaked her out and now she won't want her as a friend anymore.

"You don't have to do this, you know. If it makes you uncomfortable or anything," Brittany surprises her by saying, and Santana is quick to shake her head.

"No, no, it's fine, I'm sorry. I just… zoned. Here, lie back," she says, and Brittany smiles softly, leaning back into her pillows. "Now, uh, spread your legs."

Brittany's eyes widen slightly at the implication but she nods, wincing when she moves her left leg.

"Ouch," she hisses under her breath, and Santana frowns apologetically. She repositions herself so that she's kneeling between Brittany's legs, not acknowledging the images that appear in her mind as she does so.

She looks down at the girl, biting her lip as she realizes just how far up her leg the offending muscle is. But it's Brittany, and she's in pain, and she's her best friend and she'd do anything to make sure Brittany doesn't get hurt in any way, shape or form. So, she releases her lip, thinking 'now or never,' and slowly moves her hand forward.

Brittany's legs are softer than she expected. The leg twitches beneath her touch, and she can feel the tension where Brittany has pulled her muscle.

"Relax," Santana instructs gently, and she can feel the tension wash out of Brittany when she exhales. 'Good girl,' she thinks, and begins to roll her fingers against the sore spot. She thinks she hears the tiniest of moans escape Brittany's lips, but she chooses to ignore it.

She continues to push gently against the girl's thigh as she trails her eyes up her body. Her underwear is blue, with small little cartoon penguins patterning it. The fabric hugs against her hips just right, and Santana forces her eyes to continue up to the cheerleading top, still on from practice. She probably should have asked if Brittany wanted to change into something more comfortable, but figures it would be too late now that her hand was already between her legs. Brittany's eyes are closed, her hands resting gently against her stomach, and she practically looks like she's asleep. Santana nearly jumps when she opens her eyes, blue immediately finding brown.

"Could you go a little harder, please?" she asks, and Santana nods, dropping her gaze, as she obliges. She hears Brittany sigh but refuses to look at the girl, not wanting to know her own reaction to seeing her like this.

She continues this for nearly a minute before the awkward position begins to wear on her own arm muscle. She shifts just a little bit, trying to relieve some of the uncomfortable tightening in her forearm, but much to her horror ends up brushing her knuckles against the fabric of Brittany's panties.

The first thing she registers is that the girl is warm, so warm, before she realizes what she's done and jerks her hand quickly back to Brittany's thigh. She slowly raises her eyes, expecting to see her best friend glaring down at her for being so inappropriate, but the only thing that's changed about Brittany is that now her hands are clenched in fists against her stomach.

She considers apologizing, but decides against it. Maybe Brittany really hadn't noticed. Hell, maybe she'd made it all up in her head. There was certainly no need to call attention to it and make things potentially awkward.

That is, until she does it a second time.

She's so terrified that she has to convince herself that unless she moves, her arm is going to fall off. She's promised herself that she's going to be more careful this time, making sure to avoid making the same mistake twice in a row, but somehow when she shifts Brittany happens to move ever so slightly down at just the right time, and-

Brittany lets out a small, audible gasp, her fists moving quickly from her stomach to against her side. Santana curses herself under her breath, and moves her hand further back away sharply.

"I-I, uh," Brittany stutters as Santana pulls back, and she's afraid that Brittany is going to tell her she needs to stop what she's doing and leave. Her stomach drops with what the blonde says next.

"That feels really good…" Brittany shyly says, glancing down at Santana's hand resting against her thigh. "I mean, for the pain. It feels good for the pain. I think it's helping."

It's then that Santana notices just how warm it's gotten in there, and not just from Santana's own flushed embarrassment. Brittany is practically radiating heat against her hand, and Santana swallows loudly at the thought of what that might mean. Does she want this?

Brittany is looking at her like she's waiting for her to say something so she nods silently, picking up the movement of her hand again. Brittany sighs again, her eyes closing as Santana's fingers push against her skin.

Santana for once allows herself to appreciate how attractive Brittany looks right then. Her hair is splayed against the pillows, her Cheerio's top riding up against her so that just the bottom few inches of her stomach were showing, a hint of a bellybutton peeking out beneath the fabric. And her legs, god, they were so toned and Santana realizes just then that the girl is flexing the muscles there, the tension having returned against her fingers and she begins to wonder why until Brittany's hips twitch upwards, her covered center once more just barely grazing Santana's knuckles.

It's Santana who gasps this time. It may have been barely a touch, but Santana was pretty sure the fabric that had just brushed against her had been wet. She looks up and tries to find Brittany's eyes, but they're once again screwed closed. Her hips jerk randomly a few more times before they start to move, ever so slightly, at a steady pace. Santana's thumb begins to unnecessarily massage the top of Brittany's thigh and the girl hums, her hands grabbing at the sheets. Her hips are moving so little that Santana almost convinces herself that she's imagining it, until she sees that there is a noticeably dark spot on Brittany's underwear. She stares at it for a few seconds, blinking, before wetting her lips and chancing a glance at Brittany's face again.

One of her hands is now over her mouth, the knuckles resting gently between her teeth. The other hand is trailing its way slowly, up and down her stomach. Her breaths are coming in slow and deep, hitching ever few seconds when Santana's hand inched slightly upward.

What am I doing? Santana asks herself. No matter how much she tried to rationalize it, what they were doing right then was definitely at least borderline gay. Sure, she wasn't really actively participating (Brittany was doing most of the work, after all), but the way that her stomach clenched upon seeing that the dark spot on Brittany's underwear was growing larger, sticking to the slick skin underneath…

Brittany's fingers are wrapping around her wrist, suddenly, and she feels another rush of panic before Brittany's hand seems to tug her own even higher.

She glances up to see if the movement was intentional, but Brittany's eyes are closed, her head pressing back into the pillow. Her lip is caught beneath her teeth and her cheeks are flushed, pink and hot, and Santana feels the fingers around her wrist twitch before tightening, guiding her hand up. Santana inhales sharply as her fingers brush over damp fabric, because, yes, her panties are as wet as they looked.

Brittany has pulled Santana's hand completely off her leg, leaving it so just the fingertips were resting against her underwear. She leans up on her elbows, eyes locking on Santana's, like she is challenging her to continue.

Santana licks her lips, glancing between them before she starts to move her hand again. She starts out with small, tight circles just above the wetness on her underwear, because sure she's never done this with another girl before (or thought about it, because that'd just be way too gay), but she has done this to herself a few times so she at least knows the mechanics.

Brittany's head falls back onto her pillow, and Santana can't believe that this is actually happening, that she has hand pressed against her best friend's most intimate parts and Brittany is enjoying it. So much so, in fact, that she's begun to pant instead of breathe, the air entering and exiting her lungs extremely loud in the otherwise quiet house.

After over a minute of this, the fabric is sticking to the girl's folds, and Santana wants desperately to push it out of the way, but she's not sure whether or not it'd be taking this a step too far. Then she remembers that Brittany was the one who even put her hand there in the first place, and figures that if that wasn't crossing a line, this wouldn't be either.

She hooks one of her fingers underneath her underwear and tugs it off to the side. Brittany gasps as the cool air hits her, and moans when Santana's fingers replace it. Santana is amazed by how much more she can feel with just that thin layer of fabric out of the way. Brittany is so wet, and warm, and soft, and beautiful, and better than anything she could have ever expected.

She loves watching Brittany's face as she works her fingers, seeing which reactions come with which movements, and soon enough she's pretty sure she knows exactly what it is Brittany wants and needs.

She dips her fingers downwards, and finds even more warmth and wetness there. Brittany moans, loudly this time, nodding her head, and Santana takes this as permission to move forward, pressing one finger inside of her best friend. Brittany's walls clench around her, pulling her finger in as she begins to thrust it in and out.

Brittany's hand is back against her mouth, but her other hand has wandered further up this time, grasping at her own breast. Santana lifts her thumb to continue circling her clit and Brittany gasps, her hips jumping to meet Santana's hand.

They quickly develop a rhythm, Brittany rolling her hips into Santana's waiting fingers, and Santana loves the way it feels, so choreographed and synced, like it was meant to happen this way.

She pauses for a second, adjusting so that she can push a second finger into Brittany.

"Santana," Brittany says, and it hits Santana that the first word Brittany has spoken this entire time was her name. She memorizes the way it sounded coming off her lips, like a moan but higher, breathy and tense.

Brittany begins to move faster around her, and Santana watches as her fist clenches against her mouth. The hand that was on her breast slides down to grab Santana's wrist and she uses it to steady herself as she beings to move faster and faster still, working herself as hard as she can against Santana's fingers.

Santana is surprised when she's the one who moans next, because who knew that causing someone else pleasure could feel this good? Her every nerve was excited, her adrenaline is rushing, and she wants to make Brittany feel as good as she possibly could.

Brittany's hips begin to lose their rhythm, her nails biting semi-painfully into Santana's arm, before her back is arching and her heels are digging into the mattress as she falls silent, her mouth hanging open. Her whole body freezes for a few seconds before her hips begin to jerk somewhat spastically, and she lets out a low, satisfied moan.

Santana waits for the girl to stop moving completely before she crawls up the bed towards her. She's nervous, so nervous (because what the fuck did we just do and is Brittany even going to ever want to talk to me again and oh my god, I just made my best friend come and what does this mean?), but once she settles on the mattress next to Brittany, all her fears fade quickly from her mind.

Brittany is laughing, a dopey grin on her face.

"Feeling better?" Santana asks, nervously. She's not sure what this means. She's still not even sure how it happened, actually, and she can feel the way her thoughts are all yelling at each other, trying to sort themselves out. She ignores them when Brittany turns towards her, her smile lessening but not losing any of its brightness.

"Definitely," she says. "I've been waiting for you to do that forever."

She looks at Santana for a moment longer before leaning in, pressing a gentle kiss against her lips. She pulls back, searching Santana's eyes for permission, but doesn't have to wait very long before their lips meet once again, Santana smiling as she kisses her.

Okay. So maybe Santana Lopez is a little bit gay.