A/N: just a drabble. this is set sometime in early s2, before Santana admits her feelings towards Brittany, but i guess after the scene where they make out in bed. enjoy!
"Brittany, I swear to God if you don't stop moving," Santana hissed angrily.
The blonde squinted as Santana continued dabbing her face with the drenched handkerchief in her fist. "I'm fine, Santana," she mumbled, her voice muffled under the intense cleaning the latina was doing on her.
Santana couldn't believe it. Rachel, Kurt, Mercedes, Finn, hell, even Quinn post-pregnancy and her, two of McKinley's hottest bad bitches, were open slushy season the moment they'd joined the goddamn Glee Club a year ago, she knew. But Brittany? What the hell did Brittany ever do to McKinley's population of brainless scum, aside from occasionally providing them their pathetic sex lives? If anything, she was doing the losers a favor.
It had happened so fast. The New Directions were on their way out of the choir room, headed to class. She had seen the hockey kids from all the way across the hallway, the big slushie cups cocked and ready in their scabby hands. After a year of having ice cold, colored beverage thrown in your face without so much as a warning, you tend to look out for the warnings yourself.
She didn't think they were after Brittany. Kurt and Rachel were in front of them, arguing about the undying legacy of some aged Broadway star she didn't care to remember. If not them, it could at least be Tina or Mike who were open and defenseless to her right, holding hands and making gross sweet eyes at each other. It could have been anyone.
The hockey crowd had parted the New Directions like a messed up biblical reenactment, making their way towards her and Brittany. Until she realized they weren't even after her.
The slushy had barely left their cups when Santana launched herself at the idiots, fists clenched and flying. Suddenly, Mr. Schuester was standing in front of her, yelling, trying to separate Puck and Finn from the hockey trash.
"I feel bad," Brittany blurted out. Santana was almost done with the cleanup. She had dragged the blonde all the way to the girls' restroom the moment she was finished cursing out the idiots in Spanish.
"You're supposed to, that's kind of the point of them throwing drinks in your face," Santana snapped.
"No, I mean," Brittany shook her head, putting her hand around Santana's wrist to pull it down and off her face. "I feel bad about getting Puck suspended."
Santana scoffed. "Come on, you know suspensions don't work on Puckerman. He barely shows up to school on days he's not suspended."
"I know he wasn't the one who broke Hockey Dude's nose," Brittany's blue eyes were fixed on Santana's.
Santana rolled her eyes. She put down the handkerchief and leaned back, taking in the view of Brittany, all cleaned up and slushy-less. "Well, someone had to," she shrugged, crossing her arms on her chest. "What, are you gonna tell on me?"
"Like I told on you when you pushed Big-Boned Betty off the swing in fifth grade?" Brittany was smiling.
That was enough for Santana. Brittany, smiling. It was why she never imagined anyone would slushie the blonde. She was too pure for this dumb school and its dumb students.
"Well, she was making you cry," Santana tilted her head, faking deep thought. "And she was kinda ugly anyways. I'm sure I did her a favor breaking her nose like that." Santana gently wiped her thumb across Brittany's temple, getting rid of one last speck of cursed slushie.
"I'm always amazed by your gentle lady hands," Brittany remarked. It was always just like her, to make comments like that about one Santana Lopez.
She had hit the guy so hard, her knuckles still kind of hurt. She had to sneakily rub the blood off on her Cheerio skirt as Mr. Schuester yelled his lungs off at Puck and Finn. Thank the devils red was the McKinley color. She didn't feel all that bad for Puckerman, though. For all she knew, he probably believed it was him who threw the punch, too. If there was anything she knew for certain about high school boys, it was their gross urge to take credit for shit. Especially shit like breaking noses.
"There," Santana finally said, looking at the blonde. "You're all clean now, aside from the possible ice burn. I would take a shower, though. The stuff gets stuck in the weirdest spots, sometimes."
Brittany took Santana's hand while her free hand picked up her backpack off the floor. "Thank you, Santana," she grinned before giving the latina a quick peck on the cheek.
Santana snorted, taking in the smell of Brittany's shampoo mixed with slushy. "You're my best friend, Brittany. I'm not gonna let these chimps walk around treating you like that. We're the school's hottest bitches now that Quinn's teen mom."
And it was true. Quinn Fabray may have clawed her way back to the top of the pyramid, but her status still meant zilch these days. She may have taken the pregnancy ordeal like a champ, but her reputation still needed fixing. As far as Santana was concerned, she was just decoration for when Brittany and her needed to part crowds in the hallways.
"Maybe you can come by my place later—we could take a quick shower, and make out a little, before Geography homework," Brittany had that familiar mischievous glint in her eyes again. It was the same look she had the first time they made out in the blonde's room. For fun. Out of curiosity. For the heck of it.
If it weren't for the fact that McKinley girls had shitty bladders and bowel systems for whatever reason, Santana would have wanted to kiss Brittany then and there. It wouldn't have been the first time the two dared to, on school grounds. Except the last time, Coach Sylvester almost walked in on them, and the time before that, it was either Berry or Mercedes, bursting into the restroom singing some obnoxious high note while Brittany was pressed panting against her neck in the farthest cubicle.
She liked making out with Brittany. Brittany could be as rough as the boys sometimes, because things were always urgent and sneaky between them. But her hands always seemed to find the right spots, not wanting to simply hold down or dominate, but guiding Santana's own hands to do the touching too. Brittany had a way about that.
But no, doing it at school… It was too risky. They had to space it out. You could only get away so many times with telling people Brittany was just checking something on your neck or behind your ear or under your shirt. Being juniors came with their own challenges, but keeping a spotless reputation was number one for Santana. Being in glee club was already the biggest chip of them all, she didn't need more people whispering rumors behind her back.
"Sounds like a plan," Santana agreed, pulling Brittany with her out of the restroom.
The hallway was silent now, no longer crowded. People were in their classes and they, Brittany and her, they were late. They tried to suppress their giggles as they dashed through the lockers, backpacks swinging wildly on their shoulders, Cheerio skirts blowing with the momentum. They were probably going to get in trouble, too, cackling at each other like that, their thunderous footsteps echoing just as loud throughout McKinley's dirty hallways.
Santana couldn't help but think, this, this was her high school glory. Brittany and her, her and Brittany, in their own little bubble. She thought, she didn't mind breaking a few more noses here and there, for Brittany. She'd done it when they were younger, and she'd done it today with the hockey apes. Not that anyone would dare give her a reason to, now. The blonde was her best friend, and they had their little secrets, hidden even from Quinn, but people knew. People knew Brittany was Santana's best friend. And maybe someday she could find the song to sing about all that, to Brittany, but for now, it was enough to have her hand clasped in hers.