Santana likes Brittany but can Santana accept herself when their "friendship" goes too far? This is a scene I imagine occuring between Brittana long before Brittany's revelation that she and Santana are "not dating" in "Sectionals" - Season 1, Ep. 13.
Santana doesn't know why it keeps on happening, but it just does. Whenever they get together in their respective bedrooms to do homework (Brittany actually stares blankly at an upside down textbook wondering aloud, "I think, I'm dyslexic."), practicing some new Cheerio moves or taking turns to massage away the strain of another arduous Coach Sylvester practice from each other's shoulders, legs or lower back, they always end up making out.
Actually, Santana knows exactly why it keeps happening. It's a change from all those guys she makes out with who she really isn't into, Brittany never asks questions, and it gets Santana hot. Not just that, I-need-a-cold-shower hot, but that sticky, wet kind that lingers in her panties long after Brittany has gone home. The kind of hot that warrants the use of Santana's "other" electric toothbrush, the one that's pushed to the far back of her nightstand. Santana's teeth aren't the only part of her that gets polished. She isn't worried about going blind either.
And it's easy with Brittany. Santana could pretty much get Brittany to do anything…well almost anything ("I'd do your English lit assignment for you," Brittany says. "But I'm not that good with numbers."); or get Brittany to believe anything ("You're right. Shoplifting is about better product placement. Those earrings look way better on you than on that display.")
Their make out sessions have gone from kissing to touching ("Your arms are so smooth," Brittany coos as she gently strokes Santana's arm from shoulder to wrist.) to more touching ("I like them. They're real soft," Brittany remarks during one of their make out sessions when she realizes that smoothing her hands over the embroidered "MWHS" on Santana's uniform was like reaching second base and learning braille at the same time. "Your boobs feel like Peeps©…with nipples.").
This time, they are in Santana's bedroom "studying" which now mainly consists of a lot of lip locking, heavy breathing and, their already-too-short cheerleader skirts hiked up even higher as their persistent hands knead over-stretched hamstrings. They had long ago discovered the pleasure of making out while lying atop one another, allowing their bare inner thighs to rub against the others. They create a feeling there, where they touch, that rises to a fevered pitch which they always manage to surpass each time they get together in that way. But this time, Santana is distracted; something is killing her sexy buzz, and she doesn't appreciate it. She has just about had enough of her uniform and the irritable itch it creates against her skin when she gets sweaty with Brittany.
"Aarrgh," Santana says, annoyed as she interrupts their session. "If I didn't look so damn hot in it and if it didn't afford me the Queen B status at MWHS, I would have melted it already. 'Polycotton blend' should never be in the description of any of my clothes."
"Then, take it off," Brittany says looking up at Santana, her lips puffy and pinker than usual from kissing too long.
Santana stares at Brittany in stunned disbelief; one, because this is one of the smartest things that this girl has ever said and, two, "Dios mio!"
"Sit up," Brittany says, matter-of-fact. "I'll help you."
Reluctantly raising herself of Brittany's warm body, Santana sits up and turns her back to Brittany who grasps Santana's ponytail upward so that she could see the start of her zipper. Santana bites her bottom lip as she feels her zipper descend from her neck to the middle of her back. She never noticed her zipper before; how the cold steel slides down each vertebra of her spine like a boney xylophone creating a musical chill throughout her body. How the opening of her uniform is more than just preparing for a shower after a challenging, sweaty practice. Santana notices her breath quicken but doesn't know why.
"You have a nice back," Brittany says. "It's so tan. I wish I had your color year round."
Santana removes the uniform off both shoulders and shimmies it down off her waist and onto the floor. She wears nothing more than her favorite black lace panty and bra, both adorned with a small, delicate pink bow. With her back still to Brittany, she removes the rubber band from her ponytail and shakes out her black wavy hair onto her toasty brown shoulders. Looking towards her back, without daring to make eye contact with Brittany, she says, "You have to take yours off too because I can't have my perfect skin rubbing on that."
"Okay," Brittany says managing to zip her own uniform effortlessly off her body.
Santana finally turns to fully face Brittany. They stare at each other, speechless. Santana is in awe of the feelings coursing through her body; her heart beats a little faster, her palms are clammy and hidden parts of her twitch and flutter against her will and feel really good. She wants to kiss Brittany more than ever… and not just on her lips. That thought startles Santana as much as wanting to touch Brittany's breasts used to.
Santana had long gotten over that unchartered territory. As long as they have clothes on, touching each other's boobs is standard practice during their make out sessions. Without it, is like having cookies without a glass of milk.
But this was different; this is going to be different. Brittany, on the other hand, wonders if her Hello Kitty© bra and underwear set is too suggestive for such an occasion.
"Uh, Brittany?" Santana asks.
"Ya."
"I just want you to know…," Santana continues.
"Ya?"
"That whatever happens…"
"Ya?"
"That whatever we do…"
"Uhuh," Brittany responds.
"No one will ever believe you."
Brittany thinks for a moment. After a deep sigh, she shrugs her shoulders and says, "Okay, whatever. Could we get our 'hot' back on now?"