I hate Mondays, thinks Santana as she is sitting by the bar doing some paperwork. The bar is empty. But obviously there is a family of four waiting for their food. Who the hell goes out to dinner on Monday night, anyway? Tourists, who don't know where the nearest McDonald's is. And, since Santana is single and has nothing waiting for her at home, she pretty much has nothing better to do than paperwork. Oh, and she owns the restaurant, The Snix. So yeah, she's stuck here. She trusts her employees to deal with the restaurant on their own, obviously. It's not like she'd hire anyone who she didn't trust. There has been problems with some of them though.
Like Kurt, the host. He's a good host, very friendly and polite. He's also sassy enough to take care of those who are not happy with the placement of the table or other things Santana doesn't have time to worry about. His voice, however, is so high it could break glass and customers have a little trouble hearing him. Santana literally got an email from a man asking if the restaurant allowed dogs inside since she might hear better what "the host/ess(?)" says.
Then there's Rachel, who seems to think she's living in a musical. Seriously, breaking into a song and walking in slow-motion while serving hungry customers is not something Santana considers waiting tables. At least she can persuade people to take the most expensive steak on the menu. Or then she talks so quickly and long that they just say yes to get rid of her. There's also Puck, the bartender with that ridiculous beaver on his head and Blaine, one of the cooks who refuses to wear the chef's hat as it ruins his hair. At least there's tons of hair gel to keep it together. And then there's-
There's very, very loud sound coming from the kitchen. It's the fire alarm. It also sounds like someone is dying. They'll sort it out, thinks Santana and continues to do her work. Two seconds later, she lowers her pen on the bar and stands from her stool. The sound is getting louder and louder. Okay, I'll get sorted out, you incompetent losers. Back in boss mode, Santana starts walking calmly towards the kitchen. Throwing a faked calm smile to the family, who is starting to look absolutely horrified, she power walks through the double doors.
Yeah, it's a chaos. First of all, it's not the fire alarm that's making the noise, it's Rachel, who is watching Blaine with wide eyes. His hand seems to be burned judging from the redness and his weeping. Puck is standing on the counter trying to shut the actual fire alarm and still hasn't realized that the noise is Rachel. Brittany is standing in the middle of the kitchen, both hands over her mouth. She looks perfect even in her dirty work clothes (she has been eating the licorice ice cream from the cold room again, it seems) and that chef's hat on her head is the cutest thing Santana has ever seen. Now, if she wasn't covering those perfect, pink, soft, pouty lips with her hands, Santana could maybe, finally not care that she's her employee and just kiss her-Oh yeah, there's a situation going on.
Santana walks to Rachel and slaps her lightly in the back of her head.
"Rachel! Stop the banshee-act, Blaine is fine," she says and turns back to Brittany. "Brittany, can you make sure Puck gets off the counter since we make food on it? Also, the fire alarms off." Santana points to Rachel. Brittany nods quickly and starts coaxing Puck to come down. Santana admires Brittany's perfect backside for a little while, before turning to Blaine and the grill. Holy shit, she thinks.
"What the heck happened?" she demands rounding on Blaine.
"My hand is burned. Look, the skin is starting to peel off, it's all red-"
"No! I mean the steaks, what the heck happened to the steaks? They're black, Blaine! A medium steak is supposed to be brown with a touch of red inside. It's supposed to be moist. These," Santana points to the steaks, "are the blackest black and the driest dry possible. How did this happen?"
The kitchen is silent. Slowly, everyone's eyes turn to Brittany, who looks uneasy and something else Santana can't put her finger on. Damn it.
"Okay," she sighs and starts giving directions. "Blaine, your hand looks disgusting. Get Kurt to take you to the emergency room. Take some ice with you. Rachel, go and tell the customers that there will be no food for them unless they like their steaks as well done as possible, and ask for their phone number so I can contact them tomorrow and apologize. We won't charge them for the drinks. Then you can help Puck to clean up the kitchen. Brittany, will you come with me to my office, please?" As everyone is doing what they were told to do, Santana makes her way to her office with Brittany trailing behind.
I freaking hate Mondays. Seriously, Jim Davis must have based Garfield on her.
When Brittany has stepped inside Santana's office, Santana closes the door and walks to her desk. The office is a small, white room and has no windows. The desk and shelves are filled with folders and stacks of paper and receipts. Her lap top is barely peeking under the mess. Seeing Brittany's expression after sitting, Santana starts tidying the desk a little bit. Okay, normally she wouldn't give a crap what her employees think about her organizing skills, but this is Brittany. For being a total spaz, she's surprisingly organized and meticulous. Besides, if it isn't evident, Santana has a huge, colossal crush on her. If she wants to make an impression, it's not her fault. It's totally Brittany's, because who gave her the permission to look so god damn adorable when she's trying to be reproachful. She's trying to lift her other eyebrow, but can't quite manage and ends up just looking confused. So. God. Damn. Adorable.
After breaking out of her little gushing moment, Santana tells Brittany to sit down to the chair next to her desk.
"What exactly happened in there, Brittany?"
Brittany bites her lower lip -is it suddenly a little hot in here?- and says, "I was in the cold room figuring out how much ice cream we need to buy before the weekend. Like you asked me to do." Santana nodded. She did ask Brittany to do that. "There was very little of ice cream left and I wanted to try a different arrangement to the Baked Licorice Ice Cream and I carried the package to the kitchen. Then I accidentally pushed Rachel and she spilled cooking oil all over the stove. Blaine was trying to save the steaks and slammed his hand to the pan and that's how his hand got burned and Rachel got scared and started screaming. And that's what happened."
Santana is relieved. It's not that bad, really. She just has to call the customers tomorrow and offer them discount if they were willing to come back again. Which they obviously will not do. Santana wouldn't either. Crap. But, it's Brittany. It's totally understandable. It was an accident, after all. The kitchen is fairly big, though. And Rachel's small. It would have been easy to pass her. Maybe walk to her station from the other side of the kitchen island. Well, she can walk wherever she wants, it's not Santana's problem. Also, she was carrying a big package of ice cream. Basically, the situation is made for accidents like this. Brittany interrupts Santana's inner monologue and says:
"Just so you know, I was dancing while I was walking to my station. If it helps you out at all," Brittany shrugged. Santana frowns. Helping out with what? Does Brittany think that Santana is going to fire her?
"Brittany, what… I'm not going to fire you or anything. It was an accident, it happens."
"Dancing isn't something you do in the kitchen, Santana. Especially around things that can burn or cut you," Brittany argues. It seems like she's a bit irritated. Why, though? Santana just said she isn't firing her. It doesn't make any sense to disagree.
"You're right," Santana amends. " kitchen isn't the place for dancing. But it wouldn't even be legal to fire you on those grounds. I could be sued, you know. And you're a really good dancer too," she tries to flirt and fails. Brittany does not look impressed.
"What about the incident in the pantry last month? I was craving for some snack and couldn't stop thinking about the crackers on the top shelf. I broke three shelves, because the one with crackers fell down on the others. We needed to order a week's food again."
"Everyone's entitled to have a little snack-"
"I could have used the ladder we have for the top shelves."
"Well, yes. But-"
"We lost a lot of money that week Santana. Your money."
"That's not true! And I said it was okay."
"Once I made the lime-white chocolate-cheesecake and left it there. It melted. It was uneatable."
"Brittany, I said I'm not firing you! End of discussion. Go help the others in the kitchen. You can all leave when you're done." Brittany huffs and makes her way to the door. "I expect you to be here tomorrow at eleven o'clock, sharp," Santana adds quickly. Brittany stops for a little while. Santana can only imagine the frustrated pout she's forming right now. Brittany nods stiffly, and leaves the room. Santana sighs. The things she does for her crush. Anyone else would be fired on the spot. But somehow Santana can't bring herself to do it with her. She's aware of the fact that she's sweeping Brittany's mistakes under the rug. There have been enough to give her the boot, that's for sure. Maybe she should talk to other employees tomorrow and get their opinions. Yeah, like she'll do that. Their opinions are as useful as a sink without a drain. Right now she wants to go home and sleep and dream of Brittany eating licorice ice cream with only an apron on- Okay. Yeah, home it is.
Next morning Santana is rushing trough the busy Chicago streets. She looks at the time. How the hell is she suddenly late? She's never late. Okay, she's not exactly late. There's still time. She just wants to be ready before everyone else start arriving so she can start going over things with them. This is the first time in her three-year ownership of the restaurant she's actually reluctant to go to work. Mostly she loves her job if you leave out the crazy traits of her staff. Well, maybe that's the reason. She really doesn't want to deal with them today. Santana knows already what's going to happen. Once she starts briefing them, there's going to be looks. Rachel will tell everyone who's willing to listen (no one) that she saw everything with her own eyes. Kurt is going to be a bitch to deal with, because his precious Blaine is injured. And, once the briefing is over, everyone is going to pull her aside and carefully of blatantly imply Brittany's abilities aren't good enough for the restaurant. They are going to remind her about every single incident that has happened during the year she has worked at The Snix. And then Santana is going to argue and those stubborn idiots are going to argue back. Then Santana's day turns to shit. So she slept like five minutes longer than usual.
She feels her phone vibrating and fishes it out of her pocket. It's Blaine. Here we go, Santana thinks and answers the phone.
"Hey, Blaine. I know you're not coming to work today. I already got Mercedes to cover for you last night."
"Yeah, but that's not why I'm calling," Blaine says matter-of-factly.
"So you called for a chit-chat?" Santana says testily. "Look, I'm going to work and, unlike you, I don't have time or some strange urge to speak with you right now, so…"
"I'm sure Brittany already told you some of what happened last night, didn't she?" Blaine keeps talking and ignores Santana entirely. "Well, she probably left out the fact that she was - brilliantly, by the way - dancing."
"Actually, she told me herself," Santana says smugly.
"She did? Why would she do that?"
"What, tell me the truth? You do realize, Blaine that you're showing zero loyalty to your colleague. Blabbing about your friend like that…"
"Hey, I'm a very loyal friend! I would never hurt my friends on purpose. But when said friend lights your hand on fire, yeah, I start talking!" Blaine says heatedly. "She's not safe in the kitchen!"
"She's had a few mishaps, I get it! But she makes fucking awesome desserts, okay? You don't, so I kind of need her."
"You need her to make desserts," Blaine asks incredulously. "I can make a dessert, Santana!"
"You know what, it sounds to me like you want Brittany, your friend, fired."
There's a pause. "I do!" Blaine wails. "I do want Brittany fired! I'm a bad person, but Santana-"
"Like I said, zero loyalty," Santana cuts him off and hangs up. That was actually kind of refreshing. Nothing wakes Santana up in the morning better than an argument.
Santana spots Kurt on the door of the restaurant clearly waiting for her. He looks livid. Santana groans.
"Kurt, it was just a little burn on his hand, it's not that big a deal, Jesus," she says as she's getting her keys out of her bag.
"A little burn? A little burn?" He screeches. "It was a second-degree burn, Santana! We had to sit at the ER all night! I didn't get to sleep and my hair is a mess! I look and smell like I died watching football on TV! Dirty and sweaty!"
"You're overreacting, Hummel. Your boyfriend is just fine. He called me like five minutes ago all hysterical. You should maybe re-consider the whole moving in together. He's not as faithful to the people he gives a crap about, you know," Santana says.
"Blaine would never cheat on me," Kurt gasps.
"Don't be so sure," Santana says under her breath and steps inside. They get to work and start lifting the chairs from the tables to the ground in silence. Kurt's still fuming and Santana's thinking about Brittany. No surprises there since she seems to be always on her mind. God, she knows she needs to do something about the situation. But how can you have any chance of a date with a girl you fired? Her chances were slim already, because Brittany seems to be annoyed with her lately as well. She clearly doesn't have any desire to date Santana. There was a time Santana had an inkling that Brittany might be into her too, but after the pantry-incident things had gone downhill. Maybe she's dating someone? That could be the reason Brittany is giving the cold shoulder. Santana's not subtle at all. But surely Brittany would have quit herself ıf she wanted to? Kurt interrupts Santana's musings.
"Look, Santana. All I'm saying is that she's a walking disaster in the kitchen. There are things she's better at." Santana nods but stays quiet. Kurt starts walking towards his stand but suddenly turns around. "I also don't think Brittany will be insulted if you fire her. Actually, it might help your situation." Santana nods again and then frowns.
"What do you mean?" Kurt just rolls his eyes and goes to check on the reservations list.
After the rush of lunchtime is over, Santana retreats into her office and bangs her head to the door. It had been just like she had imagined. Everyone were staring at her. Even Brittany. She doesn't understand what her deal is. Santana's being nice, for crying out loud. Gratitude is the way to go here, not looking like she wants to shake her. That would be alright if it involved a bed and possible nudity, but this kind? Not so much. It's time to get over this crush, Lopez.
Someone knocks on the door and Santana just manages to step aside before it's opened.
"May I have a word with you, Santana?" Rachel steps in.
"No, I'm busy," Santana chirps and just stands there. Rachel looks at her suspiciously and asks her what she's doing.
"Trying to figure out how to say not-so-nicely that you should leave. Which do you think is better? 'Get the hell out of my office' or 'Why don't you take a hike'?" Santana looks at Rachel expectantly.
"Well, I think that the first is definitely more effective. On the other hand, the latter is intelligible, yet still polite so I think that's better," Rachel says and smiles. Some just can't take a hint, can they?
"What do you want, Rachel?" Santana says tiredly and rubs her temples. Rachel opens her mouth. "Before you say anything, I want you to know that I already spoke to Brittany and Blaine. I know the entire situation and it has already been dealt with, so you can relax and take a break. And give me one too, please."
"There has simply been too many catastrophes to count, Santana. I feel unsafe. As my employer you are required to listen to me and take action. This is your moment!" Rachel puts her hands on her hips and glares. Santana glares back.
"I can't just fire her like that, Rachel."
"Yes, you can. I know you are infatuated with her, but that's no excuse. There is a solid reason why she should be let go," Rachel says softly. She's right. But as childish as it sounds, Santana's worried she'll never see Brittany again. Or that she sees her only to find out that she's completely ruined her life. What if Brittany ends up homeless? A drug dealer? Or what if Brittany thinks Santana cares about the restaurant more than her? Then she'd have finally blown her chances. That's not something Santana wants to find out.
"Rachel, I don't know..."
"You could talk to her seriously without you daydreaming and try to find out what she wants to do and think about her choices together. Then she would know that you care about her well-being too." Santana's impressed. Why hadn't she thought of that herself? Maybe Rachel has something else on her mind than those show tunes.
"Anyway," Rachel blurts. "I don't think I can take much more. Brittany is a dear friend of mine, but I think my vocal cords got severely damaged yesterday and my boyfriend said I sound hoarse. Of course, I drank tons of lukewarm water and didn't speak at all but I'm still concerned. Last week it felt like I had nodes and I really can't afford anything to ruin my future career, Santana." She covers her throat with hands delicately.
"Okay, Rachel," Santana says. If she ever ends up firing Rachel, at least they wouldn't have to discuss about her choices. It's evident what this girl is going to end up telemarketing.
She pretty much has accepted the fact that Brittany has to go. Asking Puck advise for the future, though? Unacceptable. Having no friends outside of the restaurant is a little problematic at times. The rest of the staff have as much game as Chandler Bing, so that leaves Puck. He is always dating someone, so he must have some tips, right?
"So… You're worried that when you'll fire Brittany, you'll never see her again?" Puck says slowly as if he isn't understanding what Santana is saying. She rolls her eyes. As much it kills her admitting this to Puck, could he stop making fun her now?
"Cut that out, already! We've been going over this for ten minutes." They're in her office sitting down and drinking whiskey. It's kind of their thing every Friday night after everyone else has left. Puck leans to the back of his chair and let's out a bark of laughter.
"Dude, this is gold! I knew you had the hots for her, but I never though it was this bad!" Santana rolls her eyes again. Never, ever think that Puck would be of any help. He's acting like this is the funniest thing he's ever heard. Real fucking funny.
"Hey, asshole, drink your Jack and shut up." Puck takes a gulp and says:
"Okay, calm down. You're the one who started talking anyway." Santana looks like she's about to say something so he continues. "You wanted some advise? Okay, here it goes: get her number." He looks at her like it's a revolutionary idea. First of all, those never work. And secondly, now is definitely not the time to be sarcastic.
"I think it's given I have her number since she works for me," Santana deadpans. Seriously, if she wanted shitty advise she would be happy to sit here with Puck and listen to his stupidities, but this is a serious issue.
"You could just ask her out, you know? Or make her go out with you. No, wait! You could give her some of this fine whiskey-" he raises his glass. "and ask her out, and if she says no, you could say that you're already on a date." The sad thing is, he truly thinks that that is a revolutionary idea. Santana shakes her head slowly.
"That's disgusting. Can you finish your drink or not? I want to go home and think about this alone. You are not helping." Puck looks offended.
"Just because you can't appreciate a friendly advise-"
"A. That's the shittiest advise I've ever heard. Though I wouldn't put it past you to actually do stuff like that. And B. We're not friends. I'm your boss and as the person you pays your salary every month, I order you to finish that drink immediately."
"We're friends. We drink whiskey together," Puck says after emptying his glass. They start walking towards the exit and turn off all the lights.
"We're drink buddies. That's as far as I can go."
"I'll take that. I'd never be friends with a chick who can't ask a girl out, anyway. My ego would grow too big every time you asked me to give you tips, you know?" He bids his goodbye and starts walking away. Santana watches him go. Damn it, she thinks.
Three sleepless nights later, it's Monday again. Santana has reached her decision. She will fire Brittany. Tomorrow. She won't be responsible of making someone else hate Mondays too.
It's Tuesday and that means Monday was yesterday. That's too close. Tomorrow.
Wednesday and Thursday come and go.
It's Friday afternoon. Santana is walking past the bar to get to her office, when Puck walks by her and whispers: "Just do it already! Never took you to be such a wimp." Well, isn't that encouraging. No, it really is. Santana stops Puck and asks him to direct Brittany to her office. He nods and she turns around. Once she gets to her office she sits down on her chair and takes a deep breath. Her hands are shaking and her heart is beating fast. Why is she so nervous? She has been planning on this conversation for a week now. She has good reasons why she's doing this. Brittany can't sue her or anything. Yeah, like that's the problem, Santana thinks rolling her eyes at her self. This is why she doesn't get crushes too often. They're painful, especially if the said crush is on your radar pretty much every day. Though she doesn't think that having Brittany away from her is will any better. Despite her certain flaws, she's perfect. She differs so much from Santana's ex-girlfriends, so maybe that's why she's so intriguing. She's kind and a good friend. She's adventurous and always telling about new things she finds in and out of Chicago that make Santana want to find new things too. She's never felt like that before. She liked to be in her comfort zone. Brittany changed that. She wants out. Preferably with Brittany pulling her out of it.
She hears a knock on her door and stands up to open it. Here's you chance. Take it. She opens the door and leads Brittany to sit on the chair next to her desk. Which is lot tidier, thank you very much. As Santana sits on her own chair, she watches Brittany, who has a hopeful look on her face. It's like she wants to get out this place. That's great. Feels nice to be wanted. Brittany sighs.
"So… What did you want to talk about?" She asks with a sweet smile. Santana looks at her. How the hell do you say 'Hey, I'm about to ruin your life but go out with me?' to that? This is like singing a cute song to someone and then breaking with them the next minute. Unbelievable.
"I'm pretty sure you guessed that this about what happened last week," Santana says hesitantly. "So I'm just going to cut to the chase and then we'll talk more, okay? And don't worry, I won't be mean or anything." She musters something she hopes is a reassuring smile. Brittany seems to take it and nods.
"As we talked last week, you said there has been a lot of incidents because of you. And I and the rest of the staff agree. Your desserts are amazing and I made the right decision hiring you if we consider only that aspect of your work. But," Santana breathes deeply once again and looks at her hands on her lap before continuing. "Considering the other aspects we discussed I really can't find you a place on the team anymore. The others feel they're in danger zone when they step inside the kitchen and that's not good. I want everyone to feel safe here. So, I'm sorry but I'm going to have to let you go. You will obviously have your two weeks notice and we'll think about what you can do here the time and after you stop working here later. But, that's it, basically." After Santana stops talking she lifts her head and looks at Brittany, who has an understanding smile on her face.
"That was a nice speech." There's no venom in her voice. It's like Brittany's seriously praising Santana's words. "And I understand. I've been a trouble here. And I definitely want everyone to feel safe when they're near me, you know? It actually took you while," she says playfully and leans to poke Santana's arm. After recovering from her shock of Brittany actually touching her, Santana asks:
"That's what I really don't understand. For the last few weeks you've been acting like you want me to fire you." Brittany nods her confirmation. She's still smiling. It's distracting. "Okay, why didn't you just quit and save me this trouble? Because this sucks. I've never fired anyone, except that Irish kid who no one could understand, but that's not the point." Santana crosses her arms. This is the first time she's annoyed with Brittany. Shocker. Brittany keeps on smiling and that's getting annoying too. Santana lifts her eyebrows expectantly. Brittany looks now a little bit shy and laughs quietly.
"I just didn't know if I'll ever see you again and didn't want to take that chance," she says and looks away blushing. What? Santana's frozen. What? What? "You seemed adamant at keeping me here so I figured if I quit myself, you would be hurt or something." She just admitted that she likes Santana. Who's not taking that well. She's looking at Brittany wide eyed, opening and closing her mouth like a gold fish. Brittany looks at Santana quickly and blushes even more. She scratches the back of her hand wincing.
"I guess I haven't been reading you all that well…" Santana seriously needs to start functioning ASAP. She doesn't even know if she's breathing. Do it.
"Ilikeyou." Well, that's a start. Brittany looks at her for a moment.
"Oh, great! Though I kind of knew that, but you looked so surprised that I thought I was wrong after all." She smiles again. This time it's not annoying. It's beautiful. Santana smiles too.
"I am a little bit surprised actually. I didn't think you liked me all that much especially after our conversation last week." Brittany laughs.
"I was just mad at you. I've been dying to ask you out, but you just kept on giving me these chances and it bugged me a lot."
"You could've just asked me out," Santana chuckles.
"But you were my boss. That would've been weird. And Rachel and Kurt told me all the time that I can't do that as long you're my boss. So I've been waiting." Brittany shrugs. Okay, so that's what Kurt meant when he said that Brittany wouldn't be insulted. Also, he and Rachel are cleaning the toilets for a month.
"Maybe you're right. That's not exactly professional."
Santana puts her elbow on the table and leans her head on her hand. Both are smiling at each other. Who knew Brittany liked Santana too? Everyone else, probably, but to think that Santana's been worried about this seems so weird now. Then Brittany lights up and says:
"Oh, and I'll take the two weeks off, is that all right? I got a job last Saturday in a dance studio a few blocks from here, so we don't have to worry about that." Santana nods satisfied. "I thought of studying how to do tattoos and then work as a tattoo artist but then I thought that I can dance really well, so I'll teach other people and spread the joy."
"You are a really good dancer, Brittany," Santana says earnestly. Brittany blushes. Now that works in her favor?
"Thank you, Santana." They smile at each other again. Santana glances at her clock.
"I need to get back to work and make a job ad. But um… You can work the rest of the day, right?" Brittany nods. "Good, so I'll have time to find you a replacement for awhile." Santana doesn't really know what to say anymore. She chuckles a bit awkwardly and Brittany notices.
"Are you going to make me do everything, Santana?" Santana shakes her head confused.
"What do you me-"
"Will you go on a date with me tomorrow night?" Brittany surely doesn't beat around the bush. Santana breathes heavily and nods.
"Yeah, I'll go out with you. Obviously," she lets out. Brittany flashes her a billion dollar smile and skips to her. She leans down on Santana's level and says:
"I'll text you the details tomorrow morning, okay?" Santana nods again. She leans to the back of the chair as far as she can. Brittany's way too close. How can Santana even think with her so close that she can smell her? Mind you, she smells like grease, but… Heart attack. Brittany just kissed her cheek. Santana stops breathing.
They spend their first date sitting on a bench in Lincoln Park and googling weird stuff, like how many years is an owl's life expectancy. Before, Santana wouldn't have given a crap about that. But, seeing Brittany interested makes her interested too. After their date, Brittany walks Santana to her door. Santana faces her door and frowns at it. That door is an upcoming barrier between her and Brittany. Is it normal to be this clingy after first date? No, it's not. She hopes Brittany is feeling the same way or then she's just going to have to take it, because Santana is done being embarrassed about her feelings. There is no such thing as normal, anyway. She turns around, only to Brittany frowning at the door as well. See?
"I don't really want to go, but if I come inside, I think you will explode or something. Usually, when we are in a closed space, you look a little panicked, so…" Brittany trails off. She swallows. Okay, totally not done being embarrassed. Why do people notice everything?
"Emphasis on the 'a little', right?" Brittany grins a little too widely and nods. And looks on the side quickly before looking back again. Santana sighs and hangs her head. Brittany laughs and puts her fingers on Santana's chin, lifting her head.
"It's cute, I swear." She moves hand to Santana's hair and moves it away from her face. She looks Santana in the eyes and Santana melts like the lime-white chocolate-cheesecake a few weeks prior. Her eyes are blue. Like, really blue. Also, they're close. This is it. She's been waiting for this moment for a long time. She should be prepared, but she's not. Her breathing is getting quicker and quicker as Brittany's face gets closer and she can't see her eyes clearly anymore. She can feel her breath on her lips. Why is she taking so long? Santana closes her eyes, hoping to feel the lips of doom on her lips sooner. She's sure she's going to either die or eat Brittany's face. She prefers the first option, because can't even remember how to kiss people- Brittany is kissing her. It feels good, great even. Now she just has to kiss her back.
Santana puts her hands on Brittany's waist and starts moving her lips. This is going great. She's alive and not eating anything. Brittany deepens the kiss and puts her arms around Santana's neck. She smiles into the kiss and Santana smiles back. Their teeth clash together and they break away laughing.
"Whoops, sorry, I always start smiling when I'm kissing someone," Brittany giggles. She keeps her arms around Santana, who's smiling widely.
"That's okay. It's still my favorite first kiss," she states. She gives Brittany a tight hug while kissing her cheek, breaks away and says happily:
"Good night, Brittany." Brittany nods dazed. She seems frozen on her spot. Santana's glad to see she's not the only one who has trouble keeping themselves together around their crush. Or wait. Are they dating? Can she call Brittany her girlfriend now? Or is she still just a crush? How do you even ask that kind of question? 'Are we dating or not?' No, that sounds too uninterested. Maybe she should ask Brittany out on a second date and then think about this.
…When should she ask? Is texting okay? She hates calling.
Shit.
Thank you for reading!