A/N: Some lighthearted Brittana. Despite how the show has been going, these two characters will forever be in my heart. Hope you guys enjoy this little one-shot!
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or write for profit.
Prelude to Romance
/
Brittany S. Pierce.
Just thinking the name made Santana blush.
There she stood: the gorgeous blonde in the flesh, talking to some friends during the morning rush at the Starbucks near McKinley University and looking like something out of a sex-magazine…
Brittany S. Pierce, a name Santana reacted to with a longing sigh.
Brittany was so beautiful. Like sunshine and rainbows, like everything good and beautiful in this cruel and stinking world. Her laughter and her smile were magical, and that straight strawberry blonde hair was so… lovely. Yes, lovely was the word. It would look lovely spread against the black silk sheets of Santana's bed as those bright blue eyes were hooded with desire—
"Santana!"
Snapped from her daydream, Santana Lopez frowned and turned to her good friend Mercedes Jones. "What?"
"Girl, I've been talking your ear off about Sam for the last ten minutes – have you listened to a word I said? This is why it's a bad idea to get up at the crack of dawn and walk ten minutes to get our coffee. We need to just buy a coffee machine for our flat, even though that fine hunk of man working the counter was in one of my fantasies."
Santana blushed lightly because of her own fantasy and the lame truth behind forcing Mercedes to walk for their coffee every morning. It was the blonde bombshell she had unceremoniously been staring at as they sat down and drank their caffeine.
It was simple math, really:
Brittany was in there most mornings of the week because the blonde's apartment was just around the corner and Starbucks just had delicious coffee. And, since Santana liked the blonde view with her morning coffee, walking to Starbucks was the easy solution.
It wasn't creepy. Not at all. It was a happy coincidence.
"Look Wheezy, I'm helping you keep some kind of exercise routine and, sorry, but I can't listen to your Sam problems anymore because they make me want to puke. You love him, he loves you, you both tip-toe around each other like idiots. Rinse, repeat. His mouth is so big it can fit a baby's head, but other than that he's a decent guy. Just fuck him and stop moaning about it."
"Bitch. At least one of us has romance. When was the last time you went out on a date?"
"Lunch… yesterday."
"Santana, screwing Professor Holliday is not romance! That is INSANE and I thought I told you to stop."
"She's hot," Santana shrugged, "and she lets me do her on her desk three times a week… why would I stop because you told me to? I get to live out one of my repressed baby-gay fantasies of my sixth grade teacher secretly wanting me and I've learnt how to-"
"Unbelievable," Mercedes grumbled into her drink. "You're worse than Puckerman."
"Oh please," Santana couldn't help but feel dirty at that comparison, "at least I have standards. Puck does anything with female genitalia… and that one time we're not allowed to mention where he was so shit-faced he screwed a drag queen. I just haven't met anyone worth dating."
Her eyes darted over to where Brittany S. Pierce was half talking to her friends and half texting on her phone. Santana's heart fluttered.
Bow-chick-a-wow-wow, Brittany just bit her bottom lip to hold in a smile. That image would, like, be in her wet dreams for weeks.
Brittany looked up from her phone and noticed Santana's gaze. Santana felt like the wind was knocked out of her and she quickly looked away. Her eyes found her feet and she grimaced at her lame attempt of trying to seem indifferent.
God, she was such a loser around that blonde.
"Hey! Mercedes, Santana. Good morning!" She was always so bubbly. Like champagne… or bubbles.
God, that smile.
"Hey Brittany," Mercedes pulled the girl into a one-armed hug. "So, you'll be at our party Friday, right?"
"I can't wait!" Brittany's hands clasp in excitement under her chin and she turns to greet Santana. "Happy Birthday in advance, Santana."
"Thanks," Santana averts her eyes, speaking fast and probably sounding rude. She can't help it, she just wants her weird-ass feelings to disappear.
Why?
Because Brittany was straight. Falling for straight girls was the dumbest thing to do. It was never pretty for anyone involved.
Mercedes pinches her elbow and she can't help but grimace from the pain. Brittany looks at her funny, but then lets out a delicate cough to clear the weird tension, probably used to Santana's weirdness by now.
"Right," Brittany smiles again, "so, anyways, do you guys know like… a plumber or something? My sink is being all weird and stuff… I think something's clogged."
"Yeah, there's-" Mercedes is about to give her a plumber's name, because she has a cousin who works part-time as a plumber, but Santana speaks before she can think because she's such a fucking idiot that way.
"I'll do it for free," she feels the words spill out easily.
"Really?" Brittany's lips stretch wider and her eyes twinkle. "That's so nice of you to offer!"
Santana almost struggles to breathe because that smile is totally directed at her and no one else, "y-yeah."
"What the hell? You know plumbing?" Mercedes, however, is totally shocked. Santana gives her friend a shrug of the shoulders.
She knows shit-all about plumbing. But, God, those blue gems that passed as eyes.
"Great! Um," Brittany reaches out and taps Santana's forearm in a friendly gesture. Santana feels it tingle, even though the long-sleeved white UnderArmour she's got on beneath her McKinley Cheerios outfit covers her skin. "When are you free? Because I need it fixed soon and I know you're busy and I don't want to-"
"Tonight's fine," Santana pauses to take a sip of her warm drink. She tries to be calm but it was hard – because, hello, Brittany S. Pierce was talking to her with eye contact and stuff – "I could use a study break later anyways."
"Wow! Thanks so much Santana," Brittany looks so relieved and impressed. "I'll call you around four, it's when I'm done for the day!"
"Yeah," Santana plays with the ponytail on the back of her head and looks out the window so she doesn't make a fool of herself, "cool."
Brittany heads back to hang out with her friends. Santana wanted to stay and creep just a little longer but she had an important lecture to get to so she led the way out, holding the door open for Mercedes who wasn't letting the conversation go now that she had Santana's attention.
"You?" Mercedes points at her and laughs, "plumbing knowledge and Santana? What the hell, how did I not know this? You always have a perfect French Manicure and hire a maid to clean our apartment to avoid vacuuming and dusting and cleaning the bathroom… which I personally think makes you the best roommate ever, but still."
"There's a lot you don't know about me," Santana offers her friend. They're close, almost sisterly even, but Santana cannot let Mercedes find out about this awful inner turmoil she has courtesy of one Brittany S. Pierce because she would NEVER hear the end of it.
She knows she's being stupid, she doesn't need someone else to know.
"So, Rita was asking me about you," Mercedes changes the subject on the walk towards campus.
Santana gives her a hard glare. "She's terrible in bed. Bites too much. And yeah, I like dirty talk… but that girl is ugh... She wanted me to spank her with me shoe and call her a filthy little slut. No thanks."
Mercedes looks horrified, and will probably never look at Rita the same way again.
"What about that Quinn girl on the Cheerios with you, your captain? I swear she was flirting with you last weekend and even though she gives me the creeps like she's secretly plotting to rule the world -which probably makes her more your type now that I think about it- she's beautiful."
"She is really hot," Santana agreed half-heartedly, "but we've already hooked up once and it's done. She was bi-curious and drunk and I gave a helping hand. We're just friends."
"Do you have like, a bi-curious-girl-radar or something? Seriously. Find some nice lesbian and try commitment. Don't you guys U-Haul or whatever?"
"You sound like my mother."
"Probably because YOUR MOTHER is now using ME to get you a girl to settle down with. She thinks you need a break from studying so hard and I didn't have the heart to mention how you study Professor Holliday's vagina and screw bi-curious girls because you're a womanizing psychopath."
"Okay, I think you're a little too invested in my sex life. Get your own."
"Fine. But you have to give the dating thing a try sometime, Satan."
"I promise to try if you drop it."
"You're just saying that so I drop it."
"Then drop it Aretha!"
/
The 'thing' she has for Brittany kind of started out of nowhere and stayed on her mind. She went to a party with Mercedes and was looking for a bottle-opener at some point in the night so she walked into the apartment's kitchen only to have a thin shirt land on her head from someone's stripping. When she moodily took I took it off to glare some sense into the idiot responsible, she was met with a memorable sight that quashed all of her anger.
This blonde woman, gyrating her hips and letting the whole room catcall at her neon pink bra, was the most mesmerizing thing Santana had ever seen.
Seriously.
One couldn't help but think what that body could move like in private. Some guys were tossing monopoly money at her, and then Santana's trance was broken when some severely large and muscled man grabbed the blonde and tugged her down, claiming her in front of everyone with a nasty tongue kiss that made her cringe just as much as Rachel Berry and Finn Hudson.
She found a bottle-opener to use and joined in beer pong with Mercedes as they once again whooped Puck and Sam's asses, ignoring guys who hit on her and getting trashed.
She stole glances at the random 'stripper 'woman throughout the night, but only because that woman was so undeniably gorgeous Santana couldn't help it. Mercedes told her the blonde's name in passing, apparently having met the girl before.
Brittany S. Pierce.
Santana was practical, though. She knew a dead-end when she saw it because the way Brittany and her muscled boy-toy made out like animals in heat on one of the couches was enough of a tell that unless Santana magically became a muscled man, she had no chance at all.
The Brittany thing was just an attraction at first but the crush manifested against her wishes. All of her friends somehow knew Brittany S. Pierce and thought she was cool and sweet. Brittany lived close-by and loved gossiping with Mercedes, sometimes she hung out at their place with Mercedes' other friends and Santana just had to deal with it by staying in her room and studying or catching up on Dexter episodes if she wasn't out seeking sexual relations.
Obviously she wasn't very good at dealing with "it" since now she had to read 'Plumbing for Dummies' on her laptop while her Organic Chemistry Professor went through his slides with his usual "Bueller, Bueller," monotone voice.
/
"There," Santana thinks she did it right. Though, how Brittany managed to get a packet of cigarettes in there is beyond her. "This was the problem."
"Wow," Brittany inspects the Marlboro packet, damaged from the sink's garburator. "Lord Tubbington's cigarettes. I think I stuffed them down there when I was drunk last week. No wonder he's been giving me the cold shoulder."
Santana tightens the sink pipes back together and they both watch as the water flows through. Brittany smiles and Santana thinks getting soaked by the nasty water in the sink and ruining some of her nails is worth that smile.
"Does he really smoke?" She asks Brittany carefully, looking back to eye the fat cat in question who she's had the unfortunate honour of meeting more than once.
"Yeah. The crazy man who lives across from me used to train circus animals and got him addicted. I don't know what to do about it, the vet I take him to filmed it instead of dealing with it and put it on YouTube. Now he thinks' he's a superstar and just sits around all day. Doesn't even do his household chores."
Santana doesn't do household chores either. Sometimes dishes and cooking and she dry-cleans like, everything. Brittany is the kind of girl who independently does everything and probably grew up with an allowance… which is super sexy. She's like an all-American dream girl.
It makes Santana crush on her even more. God, she's such a hopeless idiot.
"I thought it was really cool how he puts away mugs last time I was here. I thought cats were… "
"Dumb?" Brittany frowns at the word and looks at Santana expectantly.
"I was going to say lazy," Santana corrects, turning her head away from Brittany's sparkling blue eyes and fiddling with the diamond studs on her own ears. "I mean, he puts me to shame... the only thing I do is make my bed and take out the trash if Mercedes forgets."
"Mercedes said you're the best roommate ever," Brittany consoles her, laughing like an angel.
Santana purses her lips because she's treading dangerous territory. She doesn't know what she's doing or why she got herself in this mess when she had always tried to avoid being alone with the blonde.
Maybe it was because all of her friends who were somehow mutual friends with Brittany thought she was rude and cold to Brittany and she wanted to prove she wasn't.
She'd rather they think she didn't like Brittany than find out she was crushing on her.
"I better go," Santana can't believe how lame she is. "I've got to uh… study."
"Yeah, right," Brittany stutters, aware that Santana's suddenly in a bad mood because she's frowning. "Thanks again-"
The door cuts off her always sweet words and Santana leans against it from outside with a heavy sigh.
"Fuck." She was as rude as ever right there, but she can't help it. Maybe she should stop talking to Brittany all together.
/
On her birthday that Friday evening, Puck had invited a stripper he met and like the great friend he was, he convinced her to give away a private birthday lap dance in Santana's bedroom to kick-start the night. FOR FREE.
Santana had drunkenly said to the exotic dancer, "stop, stop. I'm… gettin'horny we should go back out-"
And then apparently the stripper was just as horny as her because she attacked Santana's lips and asked about lesbian protection. Santana shoved the chick off because she didn't want to catch some kind of transmitted disease, before leaving her room and rejoining her friends in a round of shots to get the real party started.
She made sure Puck got an earful for bringing her a hooker-wannabe.
Needless to say, by the time other people arrived at the party, Mercedes was the only slightly sober one and she was super angry that Sam was staring at the stripper in his confused drunk-lust instead of letting her feel up his washboard abs.
The music was loud, neighbours (who were mostly university housed students) had been invited throughout the apartment complex so no one in the building really cared about the noise produced by the party, and Santana was officially twenty-two years old.
"Are you okay?" A voice asks her softly.
Santana looks up from between her knees and groans, "fuck."
"Santana?"
Of course, the person to find her smoking a cigar on the small balcony is Brittany S. Pierce. Looking super fine, as always. A little too fine.
"I think I drank too much," she mumbles to Brittany, trying not to let her horniness show which was hard because Brittany was wearing something tight, short, pink and intolerably sexy.
"Are you crying?" Brittany asked her.
"It happens when I drunking… er drinking… stuff, yeah," she sniffs and takes a big puff of her Cuban cigar. She offers it to Brittany, but the blonde refuses with a gentle shake of her head.
"So, you're not sad? Because that would be sad since it's your birthday and all."
Santana blame the alcohol entirely for her sudden sobbing and confession of, "why do you have to be so damn perfect?!"
Alcohol-induced sobbing was also the method she unintentionally used to come out to her parents. Not her brightest moment.
"Huh?"
"You're so pretty a-and I try not to like you because you're straight but it's hard! I even lied about the plumbing. I didn't know anything about plumbing! I read it up online before I went to your place."
Brittany gasps, her eyes so big and wide from the shock of what was just revealed. Santana sticks her cigar back in between her lips, wiping at her face.
"And every fucking morning I go to Starbucks just to see your smile… cuz its like the best fuckin' smile in th'world, you know?"
Her mumblings are probably muted by the cigar in her mouth and she's never felt so ugly as she does right there, weeping like a hysterical mess in front of the girl of her dreams.
Like the total drunk dumbass she is, she keeps on talking.
"I promise to leave you alone," she tries to control her crying and looks at Brittany. "I'm sure if I have enough meaningless sex I can get over you-"
Her words are cut off when her cigar is yanked away by the blonde and put out on the cement of the tiny apartment balcony. Her face is pressed to Brittany's cleavage and Brittany smells nice. Really nice.
"Shhh," Brittany tidies up her hair in a quick and gentle massage as if consoling a child and Santana is in heaven. She stops crying completely.
This was nice. Brittany smelt amazing and her boobs were like, right there.
When she's done sniffling, Brittany pushes her back by the shoulders and smiles – the best fucking smile in the world – her fingers tenderly wiping away any evidence of tears.
"That is awesome," Brittany says, leaning forward so Santana can hear her right in her ear. "Because I think you're super hot, Santana. Plus, I like girls and boys… I'm really not that straight."
Santana can only say, "uhm…hmm?"
"Look," Brittany's finger traces Santana's plump bottom lip seductively. Her eyes are dark and every bit of sexy Santana has ever dreamed to see. "Maybe when you aren't so drunk and crying, and when your breath doesn't smell like cigars even though it's pretty sexy that you smoke them but bad for you, I'll give you a real kiss sometime."
"You're so beautiful," Santana's lip quivers, "why do you have to be so beautiful?"
"Um… I don't know?" Brittany shrugs and then she nips Santana's cute little ear and whispers naughtily, "If you remember this tomorrow, ask me out. You've got my number."
Her hair is playfully ruffled and she watches the most gorgeous woman alive leave with an unbelievable sigh.
"Did that just happen?" She asks the potted plant next to her. It's overwhelming, and when she recognizes her expensive cigar that wasn't even half-smoked she cries all over again because she loves those cigars.
/
God was on Santana's side. Screw everyone that called her Satan (even if she deserved it) because miracles did exist, and on top of that, in her favour!
She found out, just last night, that Brittany S. Pierce was bi. There was justice in the world.
Here she was, pitifully massaging her Saturday hangover and thinking of how, exactly, she should phone Brittany or… maybe she should text Brittany?
Suddenly, the miracle turned into a horror. She was terrible at asking girls out, she never asked girls out. How was she supposed to ask a girl out?
"Santana I need a favour," Quinn Fabray asked as they stretched their legs and got ready for the late morning cheerleading practice. "Last night was fun, by the way. Great party."
"What favour?" Santana raised an eyebrow, thinking maybe it was another sexual favour.
Win-win. Quinn was smoking hot. But, yeah, maybe she shouldn't go there because she might possibly have a chance with Brittany and… yeah. She doesn't want to, like, cheat or anything.
"Can you help me study for commercial law? You were like the only person that knew anything in class yesterday and I need a good grade in that class."
"Sure I can," Santana watched as Quinn's face lit up before she added, "BUT… I need a favour in return."
"You drive an Audi, you don't need money."
"Not money-"
"I'm not having sex with you in return either. We hooked up when I was drunk and I thought we were cool with it being a one-time thing."
"Not sex either Fabray just… shut up. Let me speak."
She opened her mouth and looked around to make sure no one could hear them. Quinn patiently waited.
"Sometime this century, Santana?"
Santana pursed her lips before avoiding eye contact and biting out, "get me a date with Brittany."
"Brittany? My friend Brittany… the dance student? You want a date with Brittany Pierce?"
"Yes, that Brittany, who I'm pretty sure, is the only Brittany you know."
Quinn processed this with an inquiring stare and Santana felt beyond embarrassed, wondering what the hell possessed her to think this was at all a smart idea…
"Are you blushing?" Quinn's smile started to grow and Santana crossed her arms over her chest, turning her face away.
"Look, will you do it or not?"
"Yeah, I mean, lucky for you Brittany broke up with her toy-friend of the month so she's single… I'm just confused as to how this came about. Why don't you ask her out yourself?"
She didn't know how to ask a girl out and she was going crazy.
Crazy enough to ask Fabray.
"I can't."
"You… can't. Huh. Look, Brittany is the nicest girl I know. A little weird and…okay, not the smartest, but she doesn't judge people."
"She's bi though, right?"
Better clarify that little fact because who knows, maybe Brittany was drunk and lonely and broken up over an ex… or something. Sometimes Brittany said things and Santana was never sure if she was joking or not.
"Well, yeah."
Santana perked up and ignored the racing of her heart, "Look Quinn, this is part of the deal so are you in or out?"
The thought of asking Brittany out like some loser was not an option (even though she had been invited to do so). She could be rejected if she even managed to make some kind of noise and drunk ramblings were so not an option anymore. Quinn would maybe force Brittany into it but at the end of the day there would be an actual date… or something.
"Fine. I'm in," Quinn chuckled. "Brittany's a big girl, but don't for a second think I'm doing this so you can say you fucked her Santana. Lindsey Stine drunkenly revealed you guys hooked up, and then two of the freshmen on our squad were giggling about you doing them both the same night. Gross, just gross."
"The only person I talk to about my sex life is Mercedes. I don't announce it," Santana snapped. That was Puck's thing. She would admit to a fling but she wouldn't throw names and boast, Mercedes boasted for her because that girl was a gossip queen. "I gots class, I'm a fricken' lady."
"Right, because you're such a lady, and I'm thinking of a different Santana that broke Will Dawson's nose."
"I told him not to touch my boobs."
Quinn sighed, but since it was Santana, the sigh reeked of exasperation. "I didn't mean offence, okay? Sorry. I know you don't do that because I slept with you and you haven't held it over me… and Brittany will probably be the one hitting on you because she loves being in control... she's like a sex shark."
Santana tried to cool herself off at the thought of her lust-crush making moves on her but it was futile. What Quinn said was stuck in her head on repeat, mixed with her hazy memory of Brittany's cleavage absorbing her tears, and Brittany's teeth playfully nipping her ear… and Brittany's sexy grin. God, can't forget that sexy grin.
Brittany will probably be the one hitting on you
Brittany will probably be the one hitting on you
Brittany will probably be the one hitting on you
She's like a sex shark.
She so needed that date now.
"Still, she's a really good friend of mine and I don't want to see her get hurt. You've made all the freshmen on our team cry because you're a bitch who is terrible at making friends! I mean, half the stuff that comes out of your mouth is offensive and rude." Quinn added, looking at Santana like she was a criminal.
"They need to toughen up and dry clean my uniform on time! Quinn, it's a date! A date doesn't mean I want to seduce her and ruin her, okay? Maybe I really like and hypothetically want to get to know her!"
"You are blushing!"
Despite how she was embarrassing herself, and to Quinn of all people, Santana was desperate now.
Brittany will probably be the one hitting on you
Brittany will probably be the one hitting on you
Brittany will probably be the one hitting on you
She's like a sex shark.
"I can guarantee you that A-grade, Fabitch. Get me that date or hire Jacob Ben Israel."
/
Later that night, her phone received a text message from Brittany's number and she hyperventilated when she read it.
hey this is brittany, did u lose my #? I thought u had it n quinn made no sense
She squealed and then realised that she squealed and mentally slapped herself. She never squealed. Maybe once when she won those Adele tickets, but that was an excusable squeal. Okay, so maybe Brittany was an excusable squeal too.
"Okay, Lopez. This is no big deal. The girl you've been secretly horny for is down with a date. You got this."
What to say? Quinn was supposed to get the date, but Brittany probably thinks Santana lost her number.
Hey Brittany, nice to hear from you. When are you free for dinner?
Thirty seconds later and: surei'm free tonight
"She's free!"
"Santana, are you high? You're making weird sounds," Mercedes' voice came from the room across the hall.
Santana blushed and yelled back, "so what if I am? Shouldn't you continue sucking Sam's dick?"
She heard Sam choke on air. Did they think she had no clue they had been fucking the last hour?
"Fuck you! If I wasn't so comfortable I would come out there and whoop your skinny Spanish ass!"
How about Breadstix at 7? Should I pick you up?
She hoped she hadn't sounded too desperate with offering to pick her up. It wasn't weird, right?
thats cool i'll just meet u there cya soon :)
It was done.
She may or may not have done a happy dance and then called her favourite beauty parlor and booked herself for a mani-pedi -body wax immediately.
/
"Woah, wait, what?" Brittany paused applying her mascara and stared in wonder at Quinn. "You hooked up with Santana? You. I didn't know you were bi too, Quinn. You've never checked me out and we only made out once because of that dare."
"I'm not!" Quinn shook her head emphatically, "really not. Maybe a little when I drink apparently, but I still like boys... so no I'm not."
"So… it's cool that I'm going out with her?" Brittany looked worried and sounded confused.
"Look Britt, I was really drunk and she's… Santana is gorgeous-" Brittany nods at Quinn's words because, yeah, Santana was gorgeous. Ridiculously so.
"—which is her only redeeming quality in my eyes, and I was feeling fat that day. It was a heat of the moment when horny type of adventure and I have no regrets… I just… I guess I'm telling you so you know that she does that. Has sex that means nothing, I mean. She doesn't even make eye contact."
"I have sex that means nothing too," Brittany teased a hand through her hair and then combed it back into a ponytail. "Though it's better with feelings… but this is a date. A date is different from sex."
Quinn knew she probably sounded ridiculous to Brittany so she elaborated, "Just know that if it doesn't work out that's cool, our deal was that she gets a date with you, as in only one. You don't have to have sex with her."
"Hmm," Brittany giggled and twirled around to make sure her ass still looked good in the blue dress she was wearing from every angle. She had tried counting the little red sailboats on it but got bored once she hit twenty. "I'm actually flattered that she bargained you for a date with me, she's adorable."
Santana is the meanest bitch alive and not at all adorable, Quinn thought in her head. She'll eat Brittany up, bones and all. Maybe I should just hire a tutor.
Then she remembered the only tutor for hire at the moment was Jacob Ben Israel. She had looked it up to make sure Santana wasn't lying and then begged Brittany to please help her out.
Brittany's feelings could be sacrificed to avoid the sleazy JBI, just this once. She hoped it didn't make her a shitty friend, and at least Brittany seemed to find a date with Santana a good idea.
Brittany looked casual yet stunning for her evening out, and Quinn was pretty sure the only reason Santana wanted a date was because of how gorgeous Brittany was. The date was a disaster waiting to happen though. She knew Brittany and she knew Santana. Brittany would say something stupid and Santana would make someone – probably Brittany – cry. They were complete opposites and nothing would come out of this date except, maybe, some good sex.
Which, since it was Brittany and Santana, was likely to happen. Come to think of it, they hung out in the same party circles, it should have drunkenly happened by now at least twice.
Regardless, she had been honest with Brittany so she wasn't going to feel guilty about it anymore. It was just weird to think of her two friends that she associated with separately on a date. Because she needed a tutor.
"More importantly," Brittany turns to Quinn with an amused smile and now elaborates for her, "is you forget that me and Mercedes are tight. I know all about Santana Lopez and her sexual exploits, Quinn. I knew about you and her before you confessed. I guess Cedes didn't make that up after all, hmm?"
Quinn blushes bright red. She needs to find Mercedes and tell her it's not nice to gossip.
"You know what, you're right. I'm just worrying over nothing. Go. Have fun, I'll see you later ok? I'll just stay here for a bit until Kurt's done work and then we're going to the movies. I'll lock up."
"Okay. Oh, Lord Tubbington took his medication so he's sleeping, but can you refill his water for me before you leave just in case he wakes up? And don't give any cigarettes."
/
Santana was wearing a purple and black striped mini-dress with her favourite black boots; a look she knew flattered her body very well and got her many praises. She had let her hair down because she was going for sexy and she had it on good authority that her luscious black hair was hella sexy. A small black leather jacket went with the look and the sun outside was starting to set. She patiently waited (singing under her breath to calm her nerves) and finally, at five minutes past seven, Brittany was walking towards her.
Brittany S. Pierce. The bisexual sex shark. The woman of her daydreams and sexual fantasies. The reason her cheeks felt hot in the cool night air. God, those legs.
"Hi," the blonde greeted with a smile. "Santana?"
"Ye-yeah," Santana stepped forward and stuck out her hand, blushing when she realised how lame that was. It could have been her one chance in a lifetime to hug Brittany S. Pierce, but no, like the hot mess she was she had to go and offer a handshake. "B-Brittany…Uh…"
Brittany shook her hand like it was perfectly normal and then went for the door with a happy-go-lucky smile that reminded Santana of rainbows. "It looks busy tonight."
"That's okay!" Santana made herself cringe at her anxious tone, so she took a breath before addressing the waiting hostess, "Lopez for two."
The hostess smiled and nodded after checking her list for the name. Gesturing them to follow, she guided them through the busy restaurant. Santana walked side by side with Brittany and gulped dryly at how beautiful Brittany looked. She felt faint and her palms started to sweat.
As they approached the table, Santana felt the pressure start to overwhelm her.
This was one of those moments, one of those tumultuous life instances that tested her ability as a super hot womanizing lesbian. She nodded to herself, giving herself confidence. She was Santana Lopez! She was McKinley University's hottest and meanest bitch and… yeah!
"Why are you so nervous?" Brittany's voice snapped her out of her thoughts and Santana felt her throat close up, speechless at being called out. Was it that obvious?
And when did they sit down? Should she get them a bottle of wine? Brittany seemed happy with their water… she should ask.
Santana wanted to cry. Dating was so hard. She was the 'book a hotel room' pro, she had never wined and dined.
She saw blue eyes and crumbled, "I go out of my way to buy coffee every morning just so I can see you smile."
Brittany's mouth kind of drops open and her eyebrows raise high up on her forehead.
"I know that already, you told me last night." Brittany's brows furrow together cutely after a long awkward moment. "Is that a pick-up line?"
"What? No!" Santana hastily defended. She wanted the ground to swallow her up for her dumbassery, but she had her pride and Santana Lopez didn't need pick-up lines to get chicks."Shit."
Brittany giggles, "Okay. So, you're best friends with Mercedes. Mercedes is such a good singer, she's kind of rivals with Rachel, but they secretly respect each other, I think. You know Kurt, right?"
"Hummel?" Santana wonders how her admission to creeping on Brittany every morning turned into an actual conversation.
"That's the same Kurt I know!" Brittany is enthusiastic. "Anyways, the three of them sometimes have these things they call 'Diva-offs' which I thought was code for a secret life of crime but it turns out they just sing a song and try to out-sing each other. It gets confusing because no one ever really wins, Kurt votes for himself and Rachel votes for herself and Mercedes snaps her fingers and then sassily votes for herself."
"I have, unfortunately, witnessed my share of their Diva-offs." Santana omits how she also sings with Mercedes in the apartment, suddenly feeling shy about sharing her talent and hidden passion for singing. Once she sang a song to Gabriella Augelone at a Latina-mixer because it was a sure way to get under her skirt. It worked, obviously, but Gabriella turned out to be a crazy fucking bitch.
Brittany, it seems, is not shy at all. Or a crazy fucking bitch.
She's simply perfect.
/
They're walking back to Brittany's place and laughing so hard because the waiter had written his number down for Santana on the dinner receipt, adding x's and o's and a cursive 'you're gorgeous—Dan.'
"He probably thought the huge tip you left him was a sign I was interested," Santana tells Brittany, slowing down her chuckles before bursting out again when Brittany shoves her lightly.
"I wouldn't have felt so guilty about my money if you let me pay at least half!" Brittany defends. "He was sweet, we shouldn't laugh. Plus, he gave us free wine."
"Yeah, so sweet he couldn't stop staring at my cleavage," Santana crossed her arms under said bust and grimly noted they had arrived outside the apartment complex. She didn't want the night to end. "He was such a perv."
"I was staring at it too," Brittany admits, "please don't think I'm like him because I really like you and want to go out again."
Santana's stomach flips. She had hoped to charm Brittany with smooth-talk and had some silly fantasy where the blonde falls in love with her and demands they do it in the BreadstiX restroom, but in reality… Brittany was something out of this world and Santana wanted to just know her.
The blonde was amazing. They talked like they were best friends and Santana had more fun than she feels she's ever had, like, ever. Something clicked in place between them and she couldn't describe it. It was more than an attraction.
"I really like you too," Santana looks at her feet. She refrains from asking Brittany to marry her because it was only a fleeting thought and she's not that crazy. "I have for a long time."
"That's sweet, but after last night I figured that out." Brittany reaches out and latches onto Santana's hand to make eye contact. "Well… night."
"Night," Santana leans forward and presses the most tingling, soft kiss to Brittany's cheek, lingering so Brittany knows it's not at all platonic.
To her delight, Brittany tilts her head and captures her lips. Santana is dizzy, barely aware that her back is pressed against a wall and Brittany's hands are slipping inside her little black jacket to rest on her stomach… feeling her up with an appreciative moan. She works out for this body, and she had never been more thankful than in that moment.
"Mmm, you're so amazing," Santana gasps out as Brittany's thin lips start ravishing her neck. She encircles her arms around the blonde's waist, gently stroking the small of her back.
"You know," Brittany leans back, smirking proudly at how dishevelled Santana obviously is, with her bruised lips and hooded eyes. "I was surprised with your plumbing expertise because Mercedes told me you were a spoiled rich girl that got her socks dry-cleaned."
"I stopped doing that," Santana rolls her eyes at Mercedes' likely quote, "now I pay Rachel to do my laundry."
Brittany giggles, and her fingers brush up the valley of Santana's breasts in a teasing motion before resting on her collarbone and drawing flirtatious circles.
"So you really did that? I mean, read up plumbing to spend time with me?"
Santana swallows the sudden dryness of her throat. "Yeah… but, can that be our little secret?"
"Only if…" Brittany leans in close and whispers throatily, "you kiss me some more."
/
Brittany met an amazing guy at her dance rehearsals Sunday afternoon. He was a dancer, like her, and a great one too. His name was Charles and she couldn't help but flirt with him because his sculpted figure was just… so fucking sculpted.
On the plus side, he was super into her too. She wanted to dance with him and have sex on the mats and feel up every single chest muscle he had, but she remembered how she had just been on a date last night and then Santana took over the role of Charles in her sex fantasy and it was even hotter.
Brittany thinks Santana would be amazing in bed. She's always right about things like that.
Charles asked for her number and she gave it to him without a second thought. Yet, later that evening while texting Santana about how nice their date had been, she debated with herself if it was okay. She had only gone on one date with the gorgeous mocha skinned cheerleader so there was no promise of commitment.
They made out a lot and the sweet lady kisses they shared were totally orgasm worthy, but there was nothing official between them... yet. They hadn't even made passed groping over the clothes and leaving hickeys because Santana left after asking for another date.
Charles texted her and she agreed to meet with him for coffee Monday afternoon, but Monday morning she met Santana at Starbucks and, seriously? That girl was ridiculously sexy.
She had her cheerleading outfit on with the skin-tight white long sleeve underneath that advertised a smoking hot body, a smile that gave Brittany's stomach the sensation of butterflies, and eyes that adored Brittany with a twinkle.
I go out of my way to buy coffee every morning just so I can see you smile, Santana had said, more than once. Brittany understood that Santana had obviously found her attractive and thought of her. She blushed because she found that pretty hot and one hundred percent flattering. It turned her on so much and she re-read their text messages and giggled whenever Santana sent her a new one.
She had always thought Santana didn't like her, how had she been so far from the truth? She prided herself on knowing when someone wanted her, she had the notches on her bedpost to prove it.
"Hey," Santana was by herself instead of with her roommate this morning, and she joined Brittany in line. She slyly snuck a ten to the barista right after Brittany ordered and then placed her own order. She shrugged when Brittany gave her a playful glare.
"Santana."
She didn't like the implication, that Santana was paying for her as if they were already a couple. She had dumped people for less (sometimes people got clingy way too fast) but Santana's responsive eye roll made her laugh and suddenly she realised it was different. Somehow this was different and she wasn't really that mad, just blushing.
"You can buy mine next time," Santana huffs and grabs her Americano before deliberately looking at her feet and asking, "If there is one?"
"I like sweet coffee," Brittany changes the subject, letting her answer be known in a bright smile. Of course there would be a next time.
"I don't," Santana giggles and Brittany can't help but giggle right back. Santana isn't the scary bitch she's been before, she's an amazing person Brittany wants to learn more about.
Santana bites her lip thoughtfully before asking Brittany what her schedule for the day was. Brittany feels like their time together was too short, but they both have lectures to get to and can't talk for too long.
She forgets all about Charles because of classes until he texts her later to confirm four o'clock as a meeting time. She thinks of Santana and smiles, then she thinks of Charles and his abs and agrees to meet him.
She was always horny on Mondays, it messed her up.
Every year a business class was given the task to help manage and advertise productions put on by the Arts, and Brittany is skipping her eleven a.m. class (music theory is so goddamn boring, and Rachel helps her study anyways) to take some dance and theatre finance cheques to the business building. She's wandering the floors because she often gets lost without her compass, and smiles when she sees a 'Finance Office, Please Walk In' sign. Finally!
It was like a treasure hunt or something.
She successfully drops off the envelope but now she doesn't know where she is again. The secretary told her a bunch of directions so she followed what she thinks are those directions but she doesn't recognize anything around her and she thinks she passed the same 'out of service' elevator three times now.
The halls are eerily quiet and dark for this time of day, but she hears some hushed voices and follows them. Maybe someone can help her.
"—paper was really good. Totally turned me on."
There's some kissing sounds and Brittany's eyes widen before she makes sure she's alone. She covers her mouth so a giggle won't escape. People were hooking up, and from the sound of it, role playing teacher-student.
Curious as ever, she's debating taking a peek until she hears something else.
"What, Santana, what's wrong?" The voice sound a little displeased but also concerned.
Wait, Santana? She knows a Santana.
"Nothing I just… I can't hook up anymore." Brittany recognizes the voice as Santana who she had spoken to that very morning and on Friday night. She takes a breath, tiptoes to the door, and cranes her neck to peek in. Yep. It's the very same Santana and a hot teacher she remembers substituting their music class on more than one occasion when Mr. Schue got sick.
"Oh… let me guess, you finally met someone?"
The blonde professor who was sitting on an empty desk leans back and crosses her gorgeous legs. Mercedes never mentioned Santana and a professor, and Mercedes spills the beans on all of Santana's hookups when they're gossiping over wine. Then again, a professor could lose their job with this particular bit of information and Mercedes loved to gossip but she wasn't the type to ruin someone's reputation.
"…Yeah," Santana admits.
Brittany flinches and retreats her head when Santana manoeuvres herself to sit on the desk too. She feels her heart beat rapidly but can't seem to move her legs. Thankfully they're both facing to the side of her so her spying went unnoticed. She listens, because Santana might say her name.
"Wow, a girl finally manages to make you think of monogamy? Who is this creature?"
"Her name's Brittany," Santana says without any hesitation and only a hint of embarrassment. Brittany feels her cheeks warm at the confession because Santana is talking about her. "I think she's amazing, and we started something recently so..."
"You don't want to jeopardize it. No problem," the professor is totally cool and blasé. "We had a great time, I suppose it's a sign. Will's been on my case about committing to him… I kind of want Sunday breakfasts too and I also don't want to get fired for doing my students. It was fun while it lasted, sweet-cheeks."
They share a laugh and Brittany runs away as fast and quietly as she can. Somehow, she makes it outside.
She hyperventilates.
/
Charles is wearing a tight, thin t-shirt that shows off abs and muscles and… god she really needs to get laid.
Brittany sits down across from him and blushes under his shy smile. The problem wasn't his sun kissed skin, or his nice green eyes… the problem was a woman that was into her and made her want to dance like, from the inside.
So when Charles asks her out on a real date, wanting to go dancing, she goes with her heart and uses honesty.
"I can't Charles. I really like you, but, there's someone else that I like even more. Sorry."
The fact was that Santana seemed to feel something different between them too, so much so that Santana turned down a hot hook-up because of the possibility that her and Brittany might start dating for real.
It compliments Brittany so much that being with Charles feels like cheating all of a sudden.
She leaves him, feeling bad for leading him on at first until Santana texts her later that night and asks about a dinner date for the next day. Her smile stretches wide, and she squeals.
If romance made her feel this gooey inside, maybe it was worth a shot.
/
"I still don't get it." Quinn has always prided herself on being able to read people, but for the last month she witnessed two people that by all logic shouldn't be together start dating and practically fall in love.
Brittany and Santana were dating, as in Brittany and Santana. Two known commitment-phobes were committed, and with each other no less!
"Hey guys," she decides to announce herself since they were too busy making googly eyes and giggling over their feet touching to notice her. So juvenile and so fucking weird.
Santana's still grinning from something Brittany whispered and she nods, "Hey Q-tips."
Quinn rolls her eyes but joins them on the couch. "Very original, Santana."
Brittany doesn't get it, and Quinn can't believe Santana is explaining what Q-tips are to the blonde. The girl is so impatient when tutoring Quinn for struggling with 'fiduciary duty' it gets on Quinn's nerves, but there she is: patiently explaining something to Brittany.
She raises her eyebrows when Brittany rewards the quip with a kiss, saying Santana is so clever and sexy. Being third wheel around them was so damn annoying and "Q-tips" is the worst of all of Santana's nicknames but the bitch got a fucking kiss for it.
"Well I better go, I'll see you in practice tomorrow morning Q," Santana gets up from the couch, helping Brittany up with a hand.
"Later," she watches them head towards the door, rolling her eyes at how they hold hands while looking at each other and how it's so freaking cute.
Quinn sighs in exasperation to herself when the telltale smacking of a heated kiss causes Lord Tubbington to raise his fat head.
When Brittany comes back later with a sigh that screams 'I'm in love,' Quinn thinks maybe talking about Brittany's relationship will be the key to them actually hanging out again. She missed her friend.
"So you two have had sex, right?"
"A lot of it, yeah," Brittany replies easily, biting her lip and giggling. "We started like, last week. She's amazing."
Two of the most notorious sex-seekers that she knew, legitimately dated for three weeks before getting it on in the biblical sense. Are they for real?
Like, wow. She never thought when Santana Lopez bribed her for that date that it was for anything except sex .
She bites her lip before anything insulting can word vomit out. Apparently the relationship between Brittany and Santana was possibly serious.
Her mom was right: the weirdest combinations find a way to work.
"We're thinking about taking a trip together," Brittany excitedly shares. "San wants to go somewhere hot with a beach and a fancy hotel that will serve us drinks, but I want to go camping so she agreed to go camping with me. How sweet is that? She's the awesomest girlfriend ever."
That right there was what Quinn still couldn't wrap her head around. Santana Lopez has made toddlers cry, she has manipulated and bullied and broken hearts before breakfast. Last week she got the manager of BreadstiX fired.
She was not sweet.
"The sky is still blue, right?"
"Of course it is, silly!" Brittany tells her (only after looking out the window and making sure).
"Just checking," Quinn smiles at her friend.
/
I might build off of this later. But, until then,
Fin.