Brittany lay back against her mattress, her fingers absent-mindedly tracing her skin. Her mind was still reeling from her meeting with Figgins. A near perfect SAT score... she always knew she wasn't as dumb as everyone made her out to be, but smart? That's something she never believed she could be. She'd made the whole thing about drawing a clown up, but admitting that she'd actually tried would force everyone to look at her differently. The dumb blonde act was her thing, her safety blanket and the last thing she wanted to do was lose it. She'd feigned stupidity for so long that she'd forgotten her intelligence and stopped believing.
Still, it stung when Sam had acted so shocked. He was supposed to support her. "That's what a partnership is about right?" she thought to herself.
Naturally, she lashed out, implying that he was only good for his body. She didn't mean to, it just slipped out. She felt bad, but he didn't seem to take it too hard so she suppressed it.
When she came home after Glee Club, her mother had asked her if she'd cheated.
Brittany had shouted back at her, frustrated that even her own mom didn't believe in her. She rushed upstairs, slamming the door shut behind her before she found tears in her eyes. Lord Tubbington was slouched on her bed, his eyes trained on her.
"What are you looking at, Tubbs? Don't act like you weren't like this when I confiscated your cigarettes."
She'd sniffed loudly, wiping her eyes.
And there she was, lying on her bed, thoughts racing through her head. Tubbington jumped off, before clawing at the door. Brittany dragged herself up to let him out and as the end of his tail slipped through the doorway, she closed it tightly.
She sighed before faceplanting into her bed. Her face buried in the pillow, she heard a familiar voice in her head.
"You're a genius, Brittany. You are the unicorn."
She flipped over onto her back and she stared at the ceiling. Her heart was beating more than usual after a sharp spike of adrenaline hit her. She took deep breaths, and tried to force the image of blonde hair and blue eyes into her mind. She thought of Sam, and she calmed down. Her heart rate returned to normal.
Brittany lay there for a while, but no matter how hard she tried to stop herself, she kept thinking about Santana. Before she knew it, her fingers were stroking the exposed skin of her arms. Santana always used to do that in the back of the choir room when everyone was too busy rolling their eyes at Rachel 'Obnoxious' Berry.
Her hands wandered, stopping for a moment to brush over her breasts, flashing back to a previous night with soft female lips caressing them. She felt herself grow warm, her high pony now uncomfortably tight. She used one hand to untie it, the other one still massaging her chest slowly. She remembered a body beneath her, curved in all the right places, tugging gently at her hair as Britt brushed over her most sensitive spot.
She could feel herself throbbing, aching for release. She hooked her fingers under the waistband of her cheer skirt, pushing down slowly before making contact. She rubbed gently, sighing and arching her back. With her free hand, she unzipped the skirt and pulled it off. Her strokes grew rougher and faster as her willpower faded, her mind filled with golden breasts, smooth skin and soft moans.
She pictured the cheeky little eyebrow rise as Santana went down on her and Britt inserted her fingers. She gave a small shudder every time she brushed over her clit, bucking her hips closer to her hand, desperate to feel her climax.
Rocking back and forth in rhythm with her fingers, she moaned quietly. She imagined Santana's tongue, hot and wet against her.
Sucking.
Licking.
Biting.
Her breath caught in her throat as she reached orgasm. She rode it out, her legs feeling like jelly. She withdrew her fingers before wiping them off on a tissue from her bedside table. She changed, throwing her cheer uniform into a pile of clothes on the floor and slipping into a Louisville sweatshirt she'd meant to give back to Santana. She threw her backpack onto her bed and sat cross-legged, searching for her cell-phone.
Brittany retrieved it from the bottom of her bag and opened the menu.
Dialing Santana's number, she waited with baited breath for her to pick up. When she answered, Britt let her guard down slightly.
"Hey Britt, how's it going?"
"Um, Santana... I have something to tell you."
San instantly sounded nervous. "What?" It took her a second to laugh it off. "I swear, if Finnessa is making you do another crappy cover of Gangnam Style I might punch someone."
"No, it's not that."
"Then what is it?"
"I got the highest SAT score."
There was a second of silence, in which Brittany imagined Santana grinning on the other end of the phone.
"Oh my god, babe, I'm so proud of you. I knew you could do it" Santana gasped.
"Thank you, honey."
"Next time I'm home we're gonna celebrate, okay?"
"Okay."