1770 Miles From Colorado Springs to New York
Santana figured they were probably somewhere over Illinois the first time Brittany's head shot off her shoulder. The blonde's eyes danced around for a second before registering where she was again.
"Halfway to New York, babe," Santana told her when Brittany finally looked her way.
"Okay," Brittany said into a yawn. She laid her head back down and nearly had her eyes closed before they focused on Santana's phone. "What are you doing?"
Santana, who was busy thumbing through pictures, answered, "Looking for something."
"Looking for what?"
"A picture."
"Yee-aah," Brittany said. "I figured that. What picture specifically?"
"I'm not sure," Santana said, moving her thumb at rapid speed.
"Then how are you going to know when you find it?"
"I'll know it if I see it."
"So you do know."
"I know what I'm looking for, yes," Santana told her. "I just..."
"Wait, stop," Brittany said quickly. She reached over and tilted the phone in her direction. "Why do you have so many pictures of me sleeping?"
"Um," Santana looked at the close-up of Brittany's face. Her eyes were closed, her mouth open just a smidgen, and her bangs had fallen over her face. She was most definitely sleeping, evident by the tiny amount of drool pooled at the corner of her mouth. "I dunno."
"Do you take a lot of pictures of me sleeping?" Brittany was amused. Santana hated when Brittany caught her doing something embarrassingly cute. She would roll her eyes and pout and come up with some really lame excuse like...
"It's probably from the time I tried to catch you snoring and I accidentally took a picture instead of recording."
"Oh," Brittany nodded. "Because I saw like 25 pictures of me sleeping in there. Different clothes, different lighting. Was that a project you were working on for a while?"
"You snore a lot. It's loud...and snore-y."
"Hm," Brittany said laughing silently. "So where's the video?"
"I told you," Santana seemed affronted by the line of questioning, "I accidentally took a picture."
"Every time, San?"
"...Sometimes I take pictures of you while you sleep, okay?" Santana let out a frustrated breath. "There, I said it."
"Thank you. That wasn't so hard," Brittany's head fell back on Santana's shoulder. "It is pretty creepy, though."
"Yeah, you're sleeping with the enemy...literally," Santana said as she started thumbing through the photos again.
"Hey!" Brittany said enthusiastically as she tapped on the screen. "Me and the Troll!"
"Then I must be getting close."
"These are from when you first moved to Seattle," Brittany mentioned as Santana slowed to smile at the many two-shot self-portraits in front of numerous Seattle landmarks.
"Yep," Santana said. "You remember that weekend you took me everywhere in town that you loved?"
"Sure."
"And you took me down to Beacon Hill?"
"Yep," Brittany said with a smile.
"I couldn't remember if we took a picture of us there or not," Santana filled her in. "We took a picture of us everywhere else, though, so I figured it was worth a shot."
"I think we did," Brittany sat up in her seat.
Another brush of Santana's thumb, and there it was. Brittany and Santana, two years younger, standing in front of a house that was barely in the picture at all. Santana was obviously holding her phone out to snap the picture while she kissed a smiling Brittany's cheek. The silver pole of an umbrella just on the other side of the blonde's face.
"Found it." Santana said almost to herself.
"Damn, we're cute," Brittany noted as she rested in her usual in-flight spot once again. "We looked really good together even back then."
"I don't think there's going to be a time when we don't," Santana told her.
"Take one now."
"Now?"
"Yeah, now," Brittany urged her.
"K," Santana held up her phone and snapped a quick photo.
When she brought it back down to study it, Brittany said, "See, we look really good together."
"We do," the brunette agreed. She looked at their smiling faces for a few minutes. They really did look good together. Santana was pretty certain that no two people in the history of the world looked as good or as right together as her and her wife.
The next time Santana looked over, Brittany was fast asleep again. She held out her phone and snapped another picture.
"I saw that," Brittany mumbled.
"I love you."
"You, too, creep."
#
There were definitely perks to staying friends with Rachel Berry after 'The Unfortunate Incident.' That, by the way, is how Rachel referred to it. She didn't speak about the details of 'The Unfortunate Incident' often because it was a violation of the terms of their settlement. Mostly, Rachel was prohibited from ever mentioning that her lips touched Santana's face. She was forced to buy every copy of every magazine that had published it and burn them in what Santana referred to as 'The Cleansing Ritual.' Rachel was extremely apologetic about the whole situation, though. Even after two years had gone by.
Which is why Santana wasn't surprised in the least when they were picked up from the airport by Figgins. It was a little surprising that he was holding a big white sign that said "Lesbians." Probably not his best choice, because as Santana and Brittany approached he was explaining to a nice couple with flattops that he was picking a specific pair of lesbians, not just cruising for random ones.
It was also pretty great when Figgins took them to hotel where they were booked in a luxury suite on Rachel Berry's dime, of course. Suspicions were barely raised at all when Figgins told them that their usual guest room at Rachel's was closed for renovation. And the perks were still looking pretty damn good when the two exited the hotel to find Rachel's chauffeur waiting to whisk them to the Golden Ticket's Manhattan Palace.
When, they entered Rachel's newly deemed Party Room Central however, Santana was suddenly reminded there were definite downfalls to still being friends with Rachel Berry.
A scantily clad dancing Santa man greeted them immediately with some particularly pronounced pelvic thrusts in Santana's direction. "Ho! Ho!"
"Holy Shit," Santana said as she took a long look around.
There were candy cane stripper poles on one side of the room. Several people in different stages of undress were serving drinks. Those drinks were coming from the Winter Wonderland Booze Bar set up in the corner. The floor was covered in some type of white foam and to top it all off, a massive Star of David was hanging from the ceiling. It was twirling like a disco ball and shooting confetti in the shape, of course, the Star of David.
Brittany clutched Santana's arm after taking in the scene and said simply, "Not the reason for the Season."
"Welcome to Rachel's Holiday Extravaganza!" Kurt yelled when he spotted them. He weaved his way through the crowd and gave each of them an excited hug. "Isn't this amazing?" he asked as he presented the party with all the flair of Elton John taking the stage for an encore. He then adjusted his bedazzled yarmulke.
"I thought this was supposed to be a small, intimate gathering," Santana said over the music.
He gave her a strange look in return, "Who told you that?"
"Rachel!"
Kurt ignored Santana's obvious annoyance and regarded Brittany, "Look at you, you look good enough to eat."
"You're lookin' good yourself," Brittany said checking out his festive outfit. She gave him a motion to twirl, which he did excitedly. "Sexy and elfish!"
"Thanks, Britt," he winked.
"Look who finally decided to arrive!" Rachel appeared as if from thin air. "Beiste saw you two come in from her station in the safe room."
"Good to know Beiste is on the job," Santana said then looked for the nearest red light and waved.
"Brittany," Rachel turned the the blonde and pulled a bottle of Cognac from behind her back, "I brought you something from the private collection of a French aristocrat."
"Thanks Rachel, but-"
"We'll take it, thanks," Santana butted in and grabbed the offered bottle. She looked at Brittany and whispered, "We might need it later."
"You're here!" the women heard Sam as he elbowed his way through the throngs of dancing people. "We've been waiting for you two to show."
At just the sight of him, Santana pulled desperately at the cork of the bottle in her hands.
"Where've you been?" Kurt asked him.
"Oh, I was dancing with the strippers on the candy cane poles. Brings back memories," Sam said as he gave Brittany a quick hug and took a step toward Santana.
She stopped him with the bottle, "Get this open, would ya?"
"Right now?" he asked. "You just got here."
"Yep," she answered curtly. "Thanks."
He faltered for a second before taking the alcohol and stuttering an, "O-Okay."
The other three people in the circle sort of awkwardly stared between them. Finally, Sam started in the opposite direction, bottle in hand.
"I'll join you," Kurt called after him. He stopped to give Santana a questioning look before making his own way through the crowd.
Santana's wife was giving her a similar look. "I was thirsty," she said to the blonde.
"Sure, you were," Brittany answered. Santana couldn't hear it, but she was fairly certain that's what she said.
"Intimate gathering?" Santana asked Rachel.
"It was meant to be just a few. Kurt and Samuel. My staff is here. Arthur, Kelly, and the retching girl I can never find."
"Wretched?" Brittany asked, feeling proud that she detected a misused word.
"No, retching," Rachel answered. "Unfortunately, the news was leaked online. So then, of course, I had to invite everyone who may have seen the invitations."
"Huh?" Santana questioned her. "That makes no sense."
"That's how Quinn got invited."
"Quinn?"
"Quinn," Rachel nodded. "And, of course, you know who."
"Speaking of you know who," Santana said loudly as she got bumped from several partying folks, "We heard about your sex tape."
"Heard?" Rachel seemed disappointed. "I have a copy in the media room if you want to see it. It's all ready to go on the projector."
"No!" Brittany shook her head emphatically. "I mean, no thanks. I'd rather not."
"There you are," Santana heard the familiar tones of one Quinn Fabray behind her. "I wondered where you had disappeared to."
"I told you I was coming out to greet San-" Rachel started.
"Santana." Quinn put her hand on the woman's shoulder and looked her ex-girlfriend over. "Nice to see you."
"Sure," Santana said to her.
"I never did have a chance to tell you how beautiful the wedding was."
"Thank you," Rachel answered before either Santana or Brittany got the chance. "When my original Broadway theme didn't work out, we had to do a last minute change. Love of the Distantly Challenged. Turns out it was a suitable back up."
"What is she talking about?" Brittany said into Santana's ear.
Santana just shook her at head while still staring at Rachel.
Rachel continued, "It was featured in In Style's Celebrity Weddings edition."
"No, it wasn't," Santana said.
"And very few people know this, but I introduced them." Rachel went on without even acknowledging the comment.
"No, you didn't."
"Brittany was in town for an advertising convention-"
"Quinn knows the story of how we met, Rachel," Santana finally stopped her.
"Fine," Rachel stomped. "Excuse me for trying to punch it up a little. A wrong number love story? Nobody's ever gonna buy that."
"It was beautiful, nonetheless," Quinn said while looking at Santana. "You made a beautiful bride. And the ceremony was...beautiful."
"Thanks," Santana said while pulling Brittany closer.
As an afterthought, Quinn added, "You, too, Brittany."
"Yeah, thanks," Brittany said as she draped a possessive arm over Santana's shoulder.
"Carl thought so, too," Quinn shared. "But now, we're divorced, so I don't know what he thinks about anything anymore."
"Oh." Santana eyebrow quirked up. "I hadn't heard."
"You hadn't?" Quinn glanced to Rachel. "I'm surprised."
"Well, Rachel had yet to mention her sex tape, so I'm not. She always starts with herself before she gets to anyone else."
"Bad news for KStew," Brittany said loud enough for only Santana to hear.
"That's true," Rachel admitted. "But I'm working on being more charitable. I finally saw that Sarah MacLachlan commercial and was so moved that I adopted a lioness. Her name is Shasta. She likes mutton and long walks in her simulated habitat."
"And people wonder why I fled 3000 miles to get away from you," Santana muttered.
"But even more exciting, Quinn," Rachel placed her hand on Quinn's forearm, "recently moved back to New York."
"Newly divorced and back in the city!" Quinn gave Santana a predatory grin. Probably even more than predatory than ol' Shasta gave Rachel.
Before Santana could call her out on it, Sam was wrangling his way back into their presence. He handed over Santana's glass of Cognac, "For you."
Foregoing any sort of thanks, Santana just downed it. "Whoa!"
"I think you're supposed to...experience that...or something," Kurt said as he caught up.
"Brittany?" Rachel looked to her for Cognac expertise.
"Uh," Brittany looked to Rachel then Santana. "Yeah, honey, you probably should have hand-warmed that and then sampled just a bit on your palette." When Santana gave her a look, she just shrugged. "I read the manual that came with my first Cognac of the Month."
"You need another?" Sam asked.
Santana handed in glass over to him in answer.
"I'm going to go get a drink, too," Brittany told her. She dipped her head to give Santana a kiss on the lips before saying, "I'll be back in a few."
"I need to go find you-know-who," Rachel said, standing on her tiptoes which didn't help her one bit. "Quinn?"
Quinn did a double take, "What?"
"C'mon," Rachel pulled her elbow.
"I was going to catch up."
Rachel pulled a bit harder, "Santana's married, you're divorced. Everyone's caught up."
Santana watched her old friend pull her ex-girlfriend through the crowd. Sometimes Rachel wasn't so bad.
"I knew I should've told you," Kurt said as he leaned in further so he didn't have to shout.
He startled Santana a bit before she yelled, "Told me what?"
"You know what," Kurt said pointedly. "I know what you're thinking."
"You don't know what I'm thinking."
"I do," Kurt said confidently. "And it's not the same thing. My relationship with Sam is not yours with Brittany, okay."
"No," Santana said quickly. "It's certainly not the same thing."
"Hey, now," Kurt nudged her.
"It's been a year," the brunette reminded him.
"And I'll say it again, we're not the same as you and Britt. There's no way in hell I'm moving to Seattle, no offense, and he doesn't seem to be in a big hurry to move to New York."
"Seattle's pretty great," Santana felt the need to defend her current hometown.
"You have Brittany blinders, so of course you would say that."
"Hey, now," Santana gave Kurt a similar nudge.
"How's work?"
"Really?" Santana shot him a look. "How's work?"
"Fair question," Kurt shrugged. "We haven't talked about it in a while."
"I still like it, Kurt," she said. "I'm not crawling back to Rachel anytime soon. Although, she should get somebody else. I can't believe Kitty let her get sex-taped."
"That was on purpose," Kurt admitted. "Kitty came up with the idea of making, marketing, and profiting from it. She says it's revolutionary."
"Revolutionary?" Santana scoffed. "If that's revolutionary, then she failed spectacularly."
"It was also supposed to further their celebridating credibility, which is already furthered by the fact that they are actually dating."
Santana just shook her head, "Damn, Brittany totally called that."
Kurt laughed, "Who didn't after that beach house, sex hair pic?"
"She really needs to fire Kitty, tell her that."
"She really needs you."
"Nope."
"It was your calling."
Santana rolled her eyes, "I'm doing the same thing except I make a whole lot more people look good for a whole lot less money."
"You know Rachel would give you double what you used to make."
"I'm happy where I am," Santana said. "Brittany's happy. She's practically running New Directions. She loves it. We're not going anywhere unless she decides she wants to. End of discussion."
"So, you're really settling in then?"
"I really am, Kurt."
#
An hour or so later, the party was in full swing. Rachel had graced the stage and sang a whopping rendition of 'Mary, Did You Know?' followed immediately by The Dreidel Song. Brittany was swaying to the sweet sounds of Rachel's melodic voice when she heard another not so melodic.
"Hi there, Brittany." Quinn gave her a bright Fabray smile over her wine glass. "I just realized I didn't congratulate you after the wedding. You know, for snagging such a hot commodity."
Brittany gave her an uncharacteristic tight smile, "Uh...thanks."
"It was a lovely reception. Carl went on and on about how lovely it was. Then, a few weeks later, he filed for divorce."
"I..." Brittany thought for a second. "It was a great reception. And an incredible night-"
"You're quite the dancer," Quinn smirked.
Brittany nodded, "I used to dance, um, when I was younger."
"Oh? I don't know if Santana ever mentioned that."
"I don't know if Santana ever mentioned that to you either, I'm not sure why she would," Brittany twisted the ring on her finger and looked quickly to see if her wife was close by.
"So how's married life?"
"Great!" Brittany grinned from ear to ear, still glancing around the room. "We're so, so, so happy."
"That's wonderful," Quinn said, then her smile fell. "Mine didn't fare so well. Carl and I are divorced."
"Yeah, yeah," Brittany nodded. "You mentioned that before. When we first came in and just a minute ago..."
"Did I?"
"You did."
"Oh, well," Quinn took a large drink of wine. "It's kind of my most recent news."
"Obviously," Brittany said still searching. When she spotted her, she quickly made her exit from Quinn by awkwardly saying, "Later."
She crossed the room quickly, coming up behind her wife and resting her head on Santana's shoulder. The drink in Santana's hand sloshed a bit before she regained her balance
"Thank god, I found you." Brittany whispered.
"Why?"
"I had to get away from her."
"What? Who?" Santana gave the room a cursory look. "Quinn?"
"She makes me uncomfortable."
"Why?" Santana turned to face her. "Did she say something to you? Do you want me to slap her? I've been looking for a reason."
"No," Brittany shook her head. "No, no." She contemplated that again for a second before saying, "No, really. She just...she always gives me the 'I was there before you' look."
"Babe, she may have been there before you, but you made there forget she ever existed."
The smile graced Brittany's lips quickly, "Really?"
"Really."
"Aw," the blonde leaned in for quick peck on Santana's lips. "I feel better."
"You have nothing to worry about," Santana assured her as she took another drink of her Cognac. "I wouldn't have sex with Quinn again even if she had three million dollars shoved up her vagina."
"One: Three million dollars is a lot of money, don't exaggerate. I'd sleep with her for that much. Two: I'm not worried," Brittany waved it off. "But she's made a point of bringing up her divorce like 43 times, so-"
"What? Quinn's divorced?" Santana blurted. "That changes things!"
"Ha!"
"So what?" The brunette said. "Quinn's divorced. Yay. Whoo. Alert the papers. Film at eleven. Who gives a fuck? I don't."
"You really don't?" Brittany angled her head to catch Santana's eyes. "Because she kinda left you for him, right?"
Santana shrugged, "Yeah, I guess so," she said noncommittally.
"So there isn't a tiny part of you that's like..."
"That lousy bitch got what was coming to her?" Santana said it like a question.
"Well, I was going to say validated, but then I wondered if the word I wanted to use was really vindicated," Brittany's brow furrowed. "Then violated came to mind, but I knew that wasn't right at all."
"I guess...but, really, I...I'm sorry it didn't work out for her," Santana replied.
"Okay." Brittany took Santana's word for it, "That's very adult of you."
"Well, she's divorced and I have a smoking hot wife and I'm deliriously happy. Kicking her while she's down is just mean. I'm not entirely above that, I may initiate a drunken sloppy makeout sesh later, but it's mean."
"That's the wife I know," Brittany smiled.
"And you're right. Three million is a lot of money," Santana admitted. "I'd take her vagina money."
"We could buy a house with her vagina money!"
Santana agreed by holding up her glass. When she did, the dancing Santa appeared. "Need another?" he asked, wiggling his hips.
"Yeah thanks," the brunette said as she accepted the glass but took a few steps away pulling Brittany with her.
Sometime soon after, Santana had lost Brittany to Kurt's insistence that they go dance hard enough to make sweet baby Jesus cry. He meant that literally, too. There was a little person walking around in swaddling clothes with a sash that said 'Sweet Baby Jesus.' She looked out over the crowd and sure enough, her wife was moving her sexy body in ways that should be illegal in all fifty states and less progressive parts of Europe.
She felt a cold shadow cover her before she could react fast enough to get away.
Sam shook a glass of alcohol just in front her in offering before saying, "My therapist says you're mean to me because my relationships with the important people in your life are threatening to you."
"Oh, really?" Santana said. "Well, Sam, that could be true. Or, it's possible that I'm mean to you because you're a wide-mouthed dumbass."
"Santana, I know that isn't you saying these things."
"It's me."
"No, it's not, it's the natural competition we've formed from having such close relationships with each other's close relationships."
"It's me, Sam."
"No."
"It's me. And if you say it isn't me one more time, I'll rip your lips off and beat the hell out of you with them. Are we clear?"
"Clear."
"Good." Santana watched him dejectedly take a step backwards before her conscience kicked in. "Wait, wait."
Sam looked up hopefully, "Yeah?"
Santana took a deep breath, "Lately, I feel like you're invading my space and I don't like it. I come home from work and your braiding my wife's hair. I talk to Kurt on the phone and he suddenly has to go because 'Sam is calling.' You're always there. On my couch. Or my wife is telling a funny Sam story or my best friend is telling me about the cute picture you sent him. It drives me crazy. It shouldn't, because believe or not, I genuinely like you. But, I'm not going to lie and say you don't irritate the fuck out of me right now."
The man awkwardly shifted not knowing what to say to that.
"I often imagine hitting you with a blunt object," Santana went on. "I've been having this recurring dream about watching you get trampled to death by running bulls in Pamplona."
"That sounds...painful."
"Yeah, and I'm sorry about that," Santana said. "Kind of. If it makes you feel any better, Brittany and Kurt are both very upset in the dream, of course. But I buy Kurt a pinstriped zoot suit and Brittany's always better after a round of incredibly satisfying lesbian sex, sooo..."
"I appreciate you being honest with me."
"Oh, you know I keep it real," Santana replied. "Just stand to the side for the next couple of months and we'll work through it, no problem. Well, you'll work through it in therapy. I'll work through by buying a rep bag and having your face laser printed onto it. Might cost extra for the lips, but it's probably worth it."
"Yeah," Sam nodded. "You know, though..."
Santana took a healthy swig of her drink and then focused her attention on him. "Go ahead."
"I have been around your apartment a lot more lately," Sam said hesitantly. " And I knew it irritated you."
"I haven't been subtle."
"No, you're never very subtle," Sam agreed. "Especially last week, when I brought over Thai and you threatened to "Thai" me down and noodle me to death."
"That threat still stands."
"You know why, though." Sam told her. "It feels like everything's about to change...and...she's my best friend, Santana."
"She's my best friend, too, Sam." Santana took a step toward him. "And my wife. And my everything. And my heart. And my fucking soul. I would give up everything for her. You know what, I have. I would give her anything she wanted, which is what I'm doing. I'm not taking her away from you, we're moving on with our lives. I'm not going to apologize for that."
"I'm not asking you to."
"You should focus on you own shit, Samuel," Santana gave him a poke in the chest. "Instead of crying on our couch, you should decide what you really want."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I know Kurt's asked you to move."
"Oh," Sam said. "I didn't know you knew."
"Yeah, I know," she bit back. "If you really wanted to be with him as much as you say, while you're eating my low calorie Mint Chocolate Chip in my apartment shooting the shit with my wife, then you'd just do it."
"Hey," Sam said with as much force. "I'm not you, okay. I'm not perfect like Santana. I can't just drop everything and be his knight in shining armor."
Santana gave him her best humorless smile, "No, Sam, you're definitely not me."
"My two favorite people!" Brittany exclaimed as she danced up to them. "What are you two discussing so seriously over here?"
"Nothing serious," Sam said before Santana could answer. "I'm gonna find Kurt."
They both watched him walk away before Brittany gave Santana the look that meant 'I know something's going on.'
"Nothing's going on."
"I didn't say that," Brittany said.
"You thought it."
"You only think I thought it because something's going on."
"I'm going to get another drink, you want one?"
Brittany shook her head, but caught Santana by her pinky before she walked away. "You okay?"
"Yeah, babe."
As Santana turned again, she nearly got her toes rolled over by Artie.
"Watch it, Tool!" she shouted at him.
"Sorry," he told her.
"Fuck off," Santana snarled at him before leaving.
"She's still really mean," Artie told Brittany when Santana was a safe distance away from him.
"She's not mean," Brittany argued. "She just hates you. She thinks your a barnacle on the hull of Rachel's big ass cruise ship of popularity."
"I'm sure it's not that bad."
"Yes, it is," Brittany replied. "Those were her exact words."
"Oh," Artie gulped. "How's New Directions without me?"
"Great!" Brittany beamed. "Holly just got back from...doing things that I don't even like to think about, Blaine's gone on what he says is a mission trip, Will is having a baby with that Starbucks lady Terri. Don't tell him, but she's really strange. She keeps asking if her tummy looks lumpy. It kinda does. Oh, and Sugar made all her money back. It was really weird, like she just realized she had invested in Microsoft..."
"So nobody misses me?"
"Nope," Brittany said honestly. "Some other really geeky dude just slid right into your spot."
"Well, at least tell me about all the proj-"
Artie stopped speaking when he realized Brittany had just walked away.
#
Santana did find her drink as the dancing Santa approached her with a glass and more thrusting. By this time, Santana had quite a bit to drink and she'd also had quite enough of that joker.
"Listen," she said to him. "I'm a certified lesbian, okay. I like the vag. A lot. I have a wife...with a vag. A nice one. So, if you come over here swinging your jingle bells in my face again, I'm going to kick you, capiche?"
He suddenly stopped thrusting. "K."
"There's a guy here, though. Big lips. Looks dumb. He loves bells in his face."
When dancing Santa's face lit up, she felt good about herself. Good enough that she deserved a reward. She slipped up the stairs and jimmied the lock to Rachel's private study. And just as she always did, Rachel had all the good shit hidden in a secret safe behind a portrait of her posing on her prized pony.
There was nothing quite like the view of the city from Rachel's balcony. As Santana looked out across the skyline, she couldn't believe she took it for granted when she had access. In Seattle, she was too distracted with Brittany and work and being content with the happy little life she never knew she wanted to care much about the views, though. Content, not complacent, she had explained to her mother. Then again to Brittany when she overheard the conversation.
It had been one of those nights, though. She knew it would be. It was one of those nights she caught a glimpse of the person she used to be. All the ingredients were there: a raging party, Kurt trying to figure out his love life, Quinn, and the view of the city, her city, from off Rachel's balcony. She raised the bottle of Cristal to her lips and took several gulps, then took a couple puffs of the cigar in her hand. Exhibits E and F.
"Hey."
Santana winced at the voice. Not because she didn't want to see her, because she knew she'd been caught.
"You're smoking," Brittany pointed out the obvious.
"Just one."
"Where did you even get that?"
Santana placed the cigar in the ashtray she had taken out of Rachel's Smoking Room. "I know where Rachel keeps the Cubans."
"Why?"
"Needed a break from all the chaos," Santana told her as she placed the bottle on the concrete below.
"You could have told me," Brittany said trapping her against the railing of the balcony. "We could have left."
"Nah, you were having fun."
"But I wouldn't have had fun if I knew you weren't."
"It's fine, Britt Britt," Santana said. "I just needed some fresh air."
"With that?" Brittany picked up the cigar and stubbed it out. "Fresher."
"What are you doing out here?"
"What are you doing out here?" Brittany repeated her.
"I told you already."
"Uh huh," Brittany said knowingly. "It's okay to miss it. And it's okay to tell me you do, too."
"That's just it, I really don't," Santana realized. "Just the awesome view."
Brittany looked over her shoulder, "It's pretty fantastic."
Santana tapped her chin, "But not as good as this one."
Brittany's hands flitted up Santana's arms, over her shoulders, onto her face. She dipped down to cover her lips with her own. When Santana responded, Brittany slipped her tongue into her wife's mouth. She gently sucked Santana's tongue into her mouth and then abruptly ended the kiss. "You taste like a cigar."
Santana sighed, "Not a good move on my part."
"No, definitely not," Brittany said. "You're kinda gross."
"Not something I want to hear from my wife, Britt."
"Well then, don't smoke, San."
"Okay, okay," Santana was properly chastised. "I learned my lesson."
"I'm going to find you some gum," Brittany said as she pulled away and brought Santana with her, "and then..."
"And then...?"
"And then you're going to dance with me."
#
Dancing with Brittany Pierce was pretty intense. At least it was for Santana and she imagined it was for anyone else who had felt that body move against them. She was completely unprepared for it the first time. It was at this shitty little club called Doubles Dive not too far from their apartment. Brittany actually got a round of applause just for entering the building. That should have been Santana's first clue. Even now, after many many times, it was still a mind-blowing experience. Santana always just seemed to melt into her.
There was truly something magical about letting Britt just take control. In front of other people, that is. The other times were a bit more private, but just as magical. Somehow, in the midst of every crazy thing that was going on around them, they could just be together in their own little bubble. Brittany guided Santana's hips with her hands, as she molded herself to Santana's backside. Actually, it may have been a bit risque for Kurt's vocal stylings of Run Run Rudolph, but nobody seemed to care.
"I love you," Brittany breathed in Santana's ear.
"I should hope so, you married me," Santana responded.
"Moment ruiner," Brittany said even though she placed a kiss just above her jaw anyway. "Check your three o'clock."
Santana slid her eyes to the right, "Ew, what is KStew doing to Rachel?"
Brittany's head snapped in that direction, "Oh, no, gross. I meant your 9 o'clock. Sorry."
Santana subtlety spun in Brittany's arms to check it out. Quinn Fabray was watching them out of the corner of her eye from the edge of the dance floor. "She just got divorced, you know," Santana said trying to pull off a straight face.
"Really?" Brittany teased. "I hadn't heard."
"It's really too bad," Santana pouted.
Brittany plucked at her wife's bottom lip, "How about we skip out?"
"Right now?"
"Yep."
"Okay," Santana said as she let her wife lead the way.
"I'm taking her back to the hotel," Brittany told Quinn as they passed. She offered a smug little wave as well. "Maybe we'll see you next time we're in town."
"Sorry about your failed marriage!" Santana called.
By the time Figgins delivered them back to their hotel, Brittany and Santana were pretty exhausted. Santana was nearly asleep when Brittany emerged from the shower, toweling her hair.
"Good party."
"Hmm," Santana sleepily agreed.
"Did you have a good time?"
"Yeah," Santana answered with her eyes closed.
"Talk to Kurt?" Brittany inquired.
"Little."
"Good."
"Sleep," Santana patted the space beside her.
Brittany got into bed and the brunette immediately snuggled into her. Santana was always super extra snuggly when she was tired. Brittany slipped her hand under the hem of her wife's t-shirt and softly scratched her back while Santana's head rested on her chest.
"Night, honey," Brittany kissed her forehead.
When she turned to shut the light off, she noticed a small box just like the one Santana had presented to her at her parents' house a couple days before. She looked back down, Santana was asleep. She looked back at the box and bit her bottom lip. Surely, she was supposed to open it if Santana had left it there.
With her free hand, she grabbed the box and flicked the top off. She sat it on her stomach and reached in.
"Okaaaay," she said to herself when she pulled out a compass. She took another look at Santana who was still asleep. She flipped the gift over and sure enough, there was an inscription. "To guide you home again," she read. "You're so weird sometimes," she commented and then placed the compass back in the box. She placed the box on the nightstand and burrowed into her sleeping wife.
