Alone against a wall with a cup of cheap vodka mixed with some god-awful orange soda was not what Santana had planned for this evening. She was supposed to be in the center of a group of boys, all vying for her attention and the right to be the one she chose to take into the dingy bathroom around the corner. This was her first high school party. Due to the near certainty that they would be joining the Cheerios after tryouts next week, Santana, Quinn, and Brittany shared the honor of being the only freshman girls in attendance.
In order to secure her upward mobility in the McKinley social hierarchy, Santana had planned to get a popular jock alone behind closed doors. She needed a football player, obviously, and preferably an upper classman, but she would spring for a hot sophomore if it came to that. While she wasn't quite ready to give it up completely (a fact that she would never admit), she was fairly confident she could manage to wrap her lips around some guy's dick for the few minutes it would take.
However, her prospects were not looking good at that moment. She was clearly the hottest one here, even if she was still a barely-a-week-into-high-school freshman. Putting on her best bitch face, Santana prayed that she looked aloof and not like a loner loser.
There was Quinn on the other side of the room, flirting shamelessly with that dopey Hudson kid. What he could see in that prim-princess was beyond her. There was no way Quinn would even let him kiss her tonight. Santana's eyes narrowed further as she saw Noah Puckerman headed towards the two of them. There was no way in hell Santana was going to let Quinn get the only two datable freshmen in the entire school. Even if it meant blowing her chances with an older guy and settling for Puckerman.
With a grimace, Santana drained her cup and headed determinedly across the room to intercept the boy before he got to Quinn.
"Noah," she stated coolly, grabbing onto his arm. "I needs another drink."
"It's Puck now, babe," he corrected her. "And get your own damn drink."
Santana scowled, but before she could respond, they were distracted by cheering coming from the make-shift dance floor in the middle of the basement.
There in the center of it all was Brittany, waving her tank top in the air as she pulled off some crazy move in only cutoff shorts and a lime green bra. Her blonde hair was flying around her head and now that her perfect abs and perky breasts were on display, Brittany had what Santana had been craving all night: The attention of every single male in the room.
Brittany, the girl who waved to everyone on the first day of school, who actually spoke to that Berry girl, and who had been doodling unicorns across the top of her math homework while Santana had explained how this party could determine the future of their high school careers. And here was Brittany, flaunting her sexy body, and guaranteeing that the crazy dancer would have an invite to every party for the rest of the year. Santana could only gape in disbelief.
"Santana!" Brittany cried when her head stopped whipping back and forth long enough to catch Santana's gaze. "Come dance with me!"
Grimacing, Santana shook her head back and forth, giving Brittany a warning stare. The girl was the touchiest person Santana had ever met; constantly clinging onto her arm, holding her hand, petting her hair. Santana did not want to see what would happen with a tipsy Brittany on a dance floor.
"That would be so hot," Puck muttered, so low that Santana wasn't sure that he had heard him correctly over the loud music. But when she looked up at him she found that she was finally receiving the predatory leer she had been shooting for all night.
"I'm not dancing with Britt," Santana responded. "We're not like, gay, or something."
Puck shook his head. "It's not gay unless you're dating and shit. Hot girls can make out, have pillow fights in their underwear, wrestle naked…" He trailed off in a daze.
"Gross. And what the hell do you think girls do at sleepovers?"
Smirking, he replied, "Wouldn't you like to know? But, seriously, please, please go grind up on that girl."
Santana glanced between her best friend who was once again lost in the beat and the boy who was practically begging her to dance with a girl. If he was so desperate to see it, maybe she could give it a shot.
Dropping her cup onto an end table, Santana sauntered her way over to Brittany like it had been her intention all along, feeling Puck's eyes on her the entire way. At least she had someone's attention.
When she reached the dancing girl she grabbed her hips and pulled them against her own. Brittany's eyes snapped open at the action, but a wide grin spread across her face at the sight of Santana.
"You're going to dance with me?" she exclaimed.
"Mmhmm," Santana responded, concentrating on the beat pulsing around them as she found a rhythm to match Brittany's movements.
"Yay!" Brittany broke away from her for a moment to do a little happy-dance that she somehow managed to make look sexy. It was probably just the rippling of her stomach muscles that accomplished that.
Then Brittany grabbed Santana's hand to twirl her around with a flourish that was more suited for a ballroom before she pulled them together even closer than they had been before. Santana didn't resist and situated her legs far enough apart that Brittany's thigh could sneak in between, locking their bodies together.
As they began to grind, Santana snuck a glance over Brittany's shoulder to see if Puck was still watching. He was practically panting, but to Santana's surprise, he was not the only one. It seemed their dirty dancing had even pulled Finn's attention from whatever Quinn was trying to say. Santana had to duck her head against Brittany's sweaty neck to hide her smirk.
With her face tucked in close and blonde hair blocking her view of the party around them, Santana was increasingly aware of the floral scent of the other girl's shampoo and the unique scent that Santana had always associated with Brittany. Even the sweat and booze could not cover up that musky sweetness. Her thumbs had moved past the scrap of denim covering Brittany to settle into the groove separating hips from stomach. The skin there was so soft and Santana couldn't stop the digits from moving up and down with the movements of her body.
"You're super hot," Brittany mumbled against her ear.
Santana nodded and lifted her head back up, speaking loudly enough to be heard. "It must be against fire code to have this many people down here. Is my hair going frizzy?" She lifted a hand from Brittany's hip to check.
"Only a little," Brittany assured her, touching the strands against Santana's damp temples. "But I meant sexy-hot."
Santana was sure her flushed skin was getting redder. Brittany giggled a little and adjusted their movements as the song changed.
"Are the boys still watching?" Brittany asked.
Santana could feel the eyes on them, but still looked up to confirm. When she nodded, Brittany leaned in close again to speak directly into her ear.
"I think it'd be really hot if we made out."
"What?" Santana exclaimed, jumping back a little.
Brittany chuckled again and tugged them right back together. "Just go with it." Her breath tickled against Santana's lips.
They were so close that even in the low light Santana could see the specks of color that provided depth to Brittany's irises. She stared into those familiar eyes, not daring to look anywhere else in the room, knowing that would cause her to lose her nerve. Brittany's expression was open and honest, and Santana couldn't help but trust her. Although Santana thought more about social politics, Brittany had always been better at understanding people, and she had been navigating this party far better than Santana. Screwing her eyes up tightly, Santana leaned forward and took the plunge.
Soft. Brittany's lips were soft. Santana had only kissed them one other time; her first kiss at age 12 when she had convinced Brittany to practice with her so that they would know what to expect when it happened with boys. In the three years since then Santana had forgotten how incredibly soft another person's lips could feel. It was nothing like kissing boys.
The sound of cheering broke them apart, until Santana realized the cheers had been for them. Nearly everyone in the room was watching and Puckerman was loudly crying for an encore.
Santana leaned back into Brittany, this time kissing her rather aggressively until Brittany opened her mouth to Santana's tongue. She melted into the kiss, suddenly acutely aware that their lower halves were still grinding together and that on every off-beat Brittany's thigh was pressing tight against the seam of her jeans. That spot between her legs was throbbing and growing wetter by the second. It was a good thing she had picked jeans over a skirt because that layer of denim was the only thing preventing Brittany from finding out exactly how turned on this was getting her. Santana ached to throw out the facade of dancing they were still maintaining and to just rub against the muscles of Brittany's thigh over and over.
Brittany pulled back far too soon for Santana's liking and smacked her lips. She paused for a moment to suck Santana's lower lip between her teeth and then scattered kisses down her neck before latching onto a spot and sucking so hard that she was sure to leave a mark.
In order to distract herself and keep from moaning, Santana released her tight grip on Brittany's hips and instead ran her palms up and down naked sides, sneaking a little closer to that bright bra with each pass.
When she couldn't stand it any longer, Santana grabbed Brittany's face to pull her into another kiss. But their lips had barely touched when Santana felt herself being pulled off of Brittany's enticing body.
"I think we've all had enough of that for a lifetime!" Quinn said loudly. "Brittany, get your shirt. I'm taking both of you home now."
Brittany put on her best pout. "Quinnie, we were just dancing."
Somehow, Santana felt drunker now that she had been broken out of her Brittany-induced dazed and she starts laughing uncontrollably at Brittany's comment. It probably makes her look absolutely trashed, but that might be a good thing since she just had been getting hot and heavy with her best friend.
"Quinn, come on!" Puck whined. "Let them keep going."
"Yeah, it was hot," chimed in some unknown jock.
"No, they are drunk and we're leaving!" Quinn stated firmly. "Britt, seriously, shirt."
Brittany looked around the floor for a minute before looking at Santana with wide eyes. "I think I lost my shirt, San."
Santana shrugged. "At least it's not snowing."
Brittany's face cracked into a grin and she collapsed into Santana's arms in hysterical laughter. Santana found herself laughing also and she clung to the half-naked girl in her arms, running a hand up her back.
As their laughter started to die down, Santana looked at Brittany with a mock serious expression, before saying, "Hey Britt, I think you lost your shirt" and they both lost it once again.
"I don't see it either," Quinn announced, cutting into their giggle attack. "Let's just go." She grabbed both of their arms and started tugging them towards the stairs.
Santana let Quinn escort them from the party, not even worried that she was still giggling like an idiot, that she was leaving a party before midnight like a loser with a curfew, or that she hadn't flirted with a single football player. Because she knew that with what had happened tonight, she and Brittany had secured a spot at every party for the rest of their high school existence.
They were still borderline hysterical when they got to Quinn's car and pushed at each other playfully in a fight for shotgun. They soon gave up and climbed into the backseat together as Quinn walked around to the other side of the car, rolling her eyes the whole time.
"Did you two enjoy selling yourselves for the entertainment of the football team?" Quinn asked them haughtily once she got into the driver's seat and started the car.
Brittany looked over at Santana and mimicked Quinn's stern expression so perfectly that they both dissolved into giggles once again, Brittany falling across the seat and dropping her head onto Santana's lap. Blonde hair spread across her thighs and Santana found herself once again staring longingly at soft lips, still slightly swollen from their extended make-out session.
Apparently her thoughts must have been written across her face because Brittany was suddenly sitting up and crawling across the backseat to straddle her. Unwilling to wait another minute, Santana wrapped her arms low around Brittany's back and yanked her closer, at the same biting at that pouty lower lip.
"Mmm, San," Brittany moaned, and Santana used the movement as an opportunity to push her tongue into that sweet mouth.
"Seriously?" Santana heard Quinn's voice but continued to ignore her in favor of her new favorite hobby. "I thought you guys were only doing it to get attention from the boys, but now…."
Santana pulled herself away from Brittany to ask, "What's that supposed to mean?" but the question did not come out nearly as snarky as she intended as Brittany had decided to attach her free lips to Santana's neck.
"It's just that you guys are acting like you're actually lesbians."
Santana pushed Brittany away so fast that the other girl nearly tumbled to the floor of the car.
"We're drunk," she spit out. After taking a moment to compose herself, she added, "I know you wouldn't know, Jesus freak, but alcohol makes you do some crazy shit. Why else do you think that Finn would spend his evening talking to Miss Celibacy?"
Quinn didn't respond and tense silence filled the car for a moment before Brittany chimed in with, "What's a lesbian?"
Santana rolled her eyes and let her head flop back against the seat. "Britt-Britt, we've been over this. You know what a lesbian is."
Brittany frowned in confusion, and Santana sighed. "It's like being gay, Britt."
"Oh!" Brittany's eye lit up in recognition. "Like that boy at school who gets thrown in the dumpster? Wow, Quinn, thanks! He has the best taste in fashion in the whole world. I can't believe you think Santana and I dress well enough to be lesbians like him!"
"He's not a lesbian, he's gay," Santana clarified.
"But you just said that's what a lesbian is."
"No, only….you, know what, never mind. We can talk about this later." Santana turned back to Quinn. "Alcohol, Quinn. That's all this was about."
"Whatever," Quinn responded in a way that made Santana want to leap over the seat a strangle her. Instead she removed the hand that Brittany had against her stomach and scooted closer to the middle of the car to put some space between them.
"Brittany, can I drop you off first?" Quinn asked as she approached a turn that required them to determine their route.
"I'm spending the night with Santana!"
"Of course you are," Quinn replied in that same knowing tone.
"Actually, Britt, maybe it would be better if you went home tonight," Santana suggested quietly.
The hurt in Brittany's eyes made her instantly regret the statement. "You don't want me to stay? But you said I could sleep over because your parents are gone and my mom always wakes up when I sneak in. She'll know I'm drunk and I don't even have a shirt!"
"I have a sweatshirt in the trunk you can borrow," Quinn offered.
"No, no." Santana was far too guilty to send Brittany home just because Quinn was making her uncomfortable. "You can stay. Forget I said anything."
"Are you sure?" Brittany whispered.
"Yeah, of course." Santana threw her a little smile. "Quinn, take us to my house."
Brittany still looked a little hurt, so Santana nudged her hand closer until she could wrap their pinkies together. It worked to get a full smile out of Brittany and Santana didn't let go even as they said goodbye to Quinn and made their way into the empty house.
When they got to Santana's room, Brittany collapsed onto the bed. "I am so tired!"
"Well, you did dance the entire time. Now come on. Up."
Santana had to drag Brittany off the bed and practically shoved her into the adjoining bathroom, insisting that she must pee before bed and brushing her teeth would be appreciated. While she was gone, Santana quickly peeled off her clothes, replacing her damp panties and crossing her fingers that Brittany would not come back while her ass was still bare. She then pulled two sleep shirts from her drawer, shrugging into one and leaving the other on her bed for Brittany.
"You ok, Britt-Britt? Did you fall asleep in there?" she asked after another minute.
The door opened and Santana almost fell over in shock when Brittany walked out of the bathroom in nothing but a pair of low-riding panties. She couldn't help but stare at her breasts, suddenly seeing the girl in a new light. Brittany was gorgeous. It made Santana blush to even admit that to herself.
As nonchalantly as possible, Santana mentioned the shirt she had laid out and stepped around her into the bathroom, staring at the bra and shorts Brittany had shucked to the floor. She took her time and collected herself in those minutes with a door between them.
Brittany was already under the covers when she came out of the bathroom and Santana turned off the light before feeling her way carefully across the familiar room. She stumbled more than usual and cursed loudly as she stubbed her toe against her bedside table.
"You ok?" came Brittany's sleepy voice.
"Yeah, fine," Santana answered, her hand finally hitting the edge of the mattress. She climbed into the bed and Brittany cuddled against her as soon as she was lying down. It took Santana about half a second to realize that she had not put on the shirt and that bare breasts were pressed against her arm.
"Where's your shirt?"
"Too hot," Brittany mumbled in response.
"You should put on the shirt," Santana insisted, reached her hand down to feel on top of the blankets for it.
All she got was a sleepy moan in response and after another few seconds of searching, Santana gave up, realizing now that she was horizontal that she was also exhausted. Brittany was her best friend and the fact that she had fallen asleep nearly naked while drunk wasn't that big of a deal. She was not going to let Quinn's comment get to her and she was not going to admit how good it felt to have Brittany's warm body snuggled against her. No one would ever know that she had pressed a kiss against Brittany's forehead before falling asleep.
No, Santana Lopez was not a lesbian, and she would sleep with as many boys as necessary to prove it.