Disclaimer: Obviously, I own absolutely nothing. This is all derivative (what isn't?). Credit belongs to Glee (regrettably), House of Cards (deliciously), and Marina and the Diamonds (rightfully; Power and Control was the only song I listened to while writing).
A/N: I repeated the first season of HoC while I was packing today. It made me miss feeling like a cold-hearted, calculating bitch; I can't believe how effective Jesuit education was in reforming me. Hah. Anyway, this is me giving the evil inside an opportunity to live a little bit. After all, who doesn't love an anti-hero every now and then?
we give and take a little more
Sometimes Brittany can't believe how easy it is. She watches Santana make a round around the room, navigating the crowd with that trademark Lopez expertise: she avoids the people she has no interest in, shakes hands with the many that she does, and smiles at the select few she almost likes.
The first time Santana makes an actual stop is to speak to the shining President-Elect himself, William Shuster. From where she stands, Brittany watches them shake hands, before Shuster tosses head back and laughs at something Santana says. Santana then turns to Shuster's wife, Emma, and kisses her hand gracefully. Emma blushes and speaks; Santana turns and points directly at Brittany. When the Shusters spot her, they wave, and Brittany grins and waves back.
It looks simple, and in some ways, Brittany supposes that it is. Earlier tonight, Santana told Brittany that the first rule in survival was to recognize the real wolves from those in the herd that were only pretending. "The wolves aren't necessarily more important than the sheep," Santana said, "but at least you know who can really hurt you."
"And Shuster?"
Santana sneered. "Underneath all that wolfskin is a terrified little lamb."
"He's going to be the President, Santana."
Santana waved her hands dismissively. "I can deal with Shuster."
Brittany had hummed thoughtfully when Santana had declared that, but now, as she watches Santana shake the President-Elect's hand one more time, she finally allows herself to believe it.
Santana makes a few more stops after that, talking briefly to other members of the Congress. As the House Majority Whip, Santana knows everyone; and as the youngest whip in history, everyone knows her.
Brittany takes a flute of champagne from a passing waiter just as Santana approaches the Vice President-Elect. Finn Hudson might be a bumbling political fool, but he's still part of the leadership, and Santana is nothing but charming as she exchanges a few words with him.
All of a sudden, Santana turns her head and meets Brittany's gaze. Angling her face out of Hudson's line of sight, she winks conspiratorially. Brittany chuckles in response, raising her glass at her wife.
"Brittany!"
She turns her head at the sound of her name, her lips transforming effortlessly into a practiced, winning smile. From across the room, Schuster's Chief of Staff is making his way towards her, waving eagerly.
"Kurt!" Brittany gushes when he reaches her, returning his embrace briefly. He belongs to the small group of men in the room whose touch she doesn't secretly recoil from. "What a pleasure it is to see you!"
"The pleasure is all mine," He responds, like clockwork. When he pulls away, he takes a moment to look at her dress appreciatively. "Let me see you!"
Brittany laughs and sets her flute down on the table. She stands on her toes and makes a quick spin. He claps a little when she finishes, then reaches forward to run his fingers over the smooth fabric.
"Stunning. You're more beautiful than ever, Brittany."
Brittany smiles a little and shakes her head, perfectly mimicking modesty. He almost coos at her display; he doesn't have a single clue.
"I hope you're complimenting my wife, Kurt." Santana calls playfully, as she steps next to them. Brittany tries not to shiver as Santana slowly and firmly slides her right hand around her waist. This moment is about work, not play. "She deserves to hear only good things, especially tonight."
"Of course," Kurt reassures, "I'd never dream of saying anything else." He smiles pleasantly at them both, before his expression turns slightly serious. "I am in your debt, after all. You got me hired."
"Did I?" Santana teases, reaching for Brittany's flute on the table and handing it to her. "No, that can't be true." She takes another glass for herself and very discreetly steers them slightly away. "It was all you, Hummel. The only thing I did was point the future Mr. President towards your direction."
They leave Kurt standing alone, looking pleased with himself. With her arm still around Brittany's waist, Santana leads them towards the closed doors by the right side of the stage. A waiter pulls one door open for them, bowing them out into the balcony. Brittany narrows her eyes slightly.
"I thought this section was off-limits for the guests tonight? Wasn't there a security concern?"
Santana shakes her head slightly, walking them closer to the edge. "No, they just wanted to keep everyone inside. I had Quinn pull some strings earlier." Her words release soft puffs of mist into the night. She squeezes Brittany's hip once, then pulls her arm away. "We're safe."
Brittany watches in curiosity as Santana casually tosses the contents of her flute over the edge, then sets the glass on the flat surface of the railing. She raises an eyebrow when Santana takes her own glass and does exactly the same.
"It was just a cheap bottle." She says, answering Brittany's silent question. "The Party wanted to cut costs that way. We deserve better." Brittany nods, but says nothing, reaching forward to run her free hand down Santana's arm instead.
Santana leans instantly into her. This is not the same Santana who was winning hearts just a few minutes ago. The politician has taken the backseat temporarily; this is her Santana now. This is her wife, shivering at her touch. "Your hands are cold." Brittany pauses, but Santana doesn't tell her to stop.
They stare out into the city landscape for a moment, watching the lights flickering in the distance. When the crowd inside the ballroom begins to countdown from twenty, Brittany finally speaks. "Is this going to be it, Santana?"
Santana turns to face her, clasping Brittany's wandering hand in her own. Her gaze unwavering, she raises Brittany's hand to her lips and kisses each of her knuckles. Brittany feels her body growing warm. "This is going to be a big year for us, Britt."
Brittany smiles her first real smile of the night, feeling overwhelmed. The countdown has dwindled down to ten. "Are you sure?"
Santana nods, moving closer. She pushes Brittany's hair back with both hands and stares deeply into her eyes. "I'm going to make you so proud to be my wife," she whispers.
The crowd inside begins to cheer for the New Year, and fireworks explode in the sky. Brittany almost doesn't notice. Santana's lips are on hers, her warm hands possessive as they caress her face. Brittany smiles as she wraps her arms around Santana and pulls her even closer.
This moment is everything. Her wife is sealing the promise of the world inside a single kiss.
Yes? No? Stop? Go?