Sorry for the wait, but with further ado I give you... PART TWO! Not too sure how long this will be, maybe a couple more chapters?
Part Two
Santana stood near the door. She knew just being here was wrong, but somehow in the back of her mind, staying close to the way out helped ease the guilt.
"I'm not interested in being with Sam, I never was." said Brittany, finally answering her question. Her voice was calm and quiet and she looked directly at Santana as she spoke.
"I know." she said, flooded with relief.
"You're the only one I've ever been interested in." she said, and fleetingly Santana's heart soured.
"When I heard that you two had begun a relationship.." she began, her voice unsteady, "I was jealous." Santana finished.
If she'd hoped being honest might make her feel better, she couldn't have been more wrong. The relief she felt, at finally saying the words out loud, lasted no more than a few seconds before she was struck by the rashness of her decision to come here and the madness of what she was admitting.
"There you are, I've said it. I was jealous," she choked. "This is insane," she added, barely registering the confusion on Brittany's face. "I'm insane." She turned away from her, a fraught hand pressed to her temple and the other one reaching for the door handle. Brittany moved to stop her.
"Don't go now." She said, firmly.
In a frantic attempt to regain control of the situation and of her feelings, Santana sought familiar ground.
"You shouldn't have agreed to date him if you don't have feelings for him, you're playing with his emotions. You shouldn't have done it." She said it as if she was telling her off, teacher to student, and was instantly ashamed.
"Wait," said Brittany, quietly diffusing her attempt at authority, "just wait a minute. What are you trying to say?"
Unnerved and less in control than ever, Santana shouted. "I'm not saying anything. I'm going. Forget this happened." She turned to leave again, but Brittany grabbed her by the wrist, forcing her away from the door.
"So why did you come round here then?" She asked.
"I don't know," she said, overwhelmed by panic.
"Santana, what do you want?"
They stood just inches apart now and Santana's resolve flickered for the briefest moment.
"I don't know," she lied, her voice finally cracking and the moment gone.
This time Brittany didn't stop her. Fighting back tears, Santana wrenched the door open and slammed it behind her. She crumpled against the frame, breathing shakily and barely noticing the icy December wind. It didn't matter what she'd told Brittany. The truth, however much it scared her, was that Santana knew exactly what she wanted.
Frustrated and bewildered, Brittany stood alone in the quiet aftermath. She didn't understand why Santana had come round. If the things she'd said were true and she felt the same way she did herself, why has she now gone rushing back to Noah? She couldn't let her get so far and then pull away again. More certain than ever that she was with the wrong person, Brittany knew she had to fight for both of them and force Santana into acting on her feelings. She strode decisively across the room and opened the front door.
For the second time that afternoon, Santana was standing there. Brittany stopped thinking and planning and worrying and, for once, let her instincts take over. Santana stepped inside and closed the door, shutting the world out as she kissed her. Her hands curled around the back of Brittany's neck, drawing her closer as she returned the kiss.
Brittany's astonishment at the fact it was really happening and so suddenly, soon gave way to a jumble of other thoughts and emotions. She'd kissed plenty of other people before, but it had never been anything like this. Nothing even came close to feeling this amazing. It was being in love, she supposed, that made the difference.
Santana pulled away too soon.
"I have to go."
Desperate to keep her from leaving but suspecting there was nothing she could say to make her stay, Brittany leaned in and kissed her again.
"I said I was at Quinn's. I can't make him suspicious," she said, gently breaking the kiss a second time.
"Come back," said Brittany, simply.
Santana kissed her, her hands in Brittany's hair.
"I can't," she said, "not tonight."
"Tomorrow, then," Brittany persisted. She'd waited so long for this to happen and it felt so incredible, she could hardly bear that she was leaving already.
"I've got to spend Christmas with Noah," said Santana, almost contemptuously.
She sighed, disappointed, but knowing she had to trust her. "I'll be here,"
"I'll try," Santana promised. She pulled her towards her and kissed Brittany one last time before leaving.
Brittany didn't move as she struggled to take in the enormity of what had just happened. Her brain raced, trying to make sense of it all. Slowly, as if she was melting from frozen, a grin spread across her face. Santana had kissed her. She lifted a shaky hand to her mouth and touched her bottom lip. She'd kissed her.
Christmas had been the most exciting day of the year when Santana was a child. The anticipation had always made falling asleep on Christmas Eve tricky and staying in bed past six o'clock the morning even harder. She was having a similar problem this year, but it was nothing to do with the excitement of Christmas. Lifting her head off the pillow for what felt like the hundredth time, she peered at the alarm clock - 5:22. It was over seven hours since she'd come to bed, but Santana guessed she hadn't slept for more than three of them. She lay on her back, staring up at the tinsel and fairy lights Noah had used to decorate their room, and tried not to remember how sweet he'd been to her the night before.
She'd barely been able to look at him when she arrived home from Brittany's, and his concern had just made things worse.
"I've got a headache," she'd said, and Noah had pounced on it, grinning sympathetically at her.
"A bit too merry at Quinn's, was it?" he teased.
Feeling she may as well play along, Santana had nodded. "Champagne," she told him.
"Maybe you should go to bed," Noah had suggested. "Sleep it off." And Santana had readily agreed.
Noah had been the model of a caring husband - bringing her paracetamol, a glass of water and putting her to bed. She'd pretended to be asleep when he came in to check on her half an hour later and again when he eventually got in beside her.
The reality was that she'd been lying awake most of the night, turning things over and over and coming to no real conclusion. She only knew two things for certain: she wanted Brittany and it was wrong.
Looking back, she was forced to admit there had been a connection between them from the very beginning. As a new teacher, keen to help a struggling pupil, tutoring Brittany individually had been a challenge. It hadn't proved nearly as tough as she'd expected though. Far from being the difficult and surly student Santana had been warned about, Brittany was smart, interesting and undeniably charming. She was troubled too, there was no getting away from that, and she could see where her far-from-perfect reputation came from.
These days, she did her best to avoid thinking about Brittany most of the time. It seemed so futile. In her heart, she could see that she was so many of the things Noah wasn't - exciting, driven, impetuous - and she understood Santana in a way her husband never would.
But none of it made a difference, thought Santana, sitting up and thumping her pillow back into shape before dropping back down. The cold, hard fact of the matter was that if she gave in to her feelings, she could lose everything. Not just her marriage - her job, for certain, and probably her career, too. Would her friends understand, or her family? Without a job, she'd have to move. All of this before she even got to the moral and legal side of things. It seemed crazy to risk all of that for someone who, however much she loved her now, could easily change her mind after a few years and leave her with nothing.
She turned over on to her side and stared at the matching Christmas stockings Noah had bought. They were stuffed full of presents and he'd obviously hung them side by side on the back of the door after Santana had come to bed.
Washed with a fresh wave of shame and guilt, and exhausted by lack of sleep, she began to sob silently into her pillow.
"She kissed me," Brittany reminded her reflection when she got out of bed the next morning. How she'd managed to sleep so late yesterday, she couldn't imagine right now. It was eight o'clock and she was buzzing with energy, eager to be up and enjoying Christmas Day. She sang her way loudly through a long, hot shower and then bounded back into her bedroom, a towel wrapped around her body. As she pulled her favorite pair of underpants out of a drawer, it suddenly occurred to her how wrinkly they looked.
"She kissed me," she said, again. She checked her watch anxiously. It didn't seem very likely that Santana would show up this early, but she wanted everything to be perfect just in case.
Showered and now dressed, tidying up was next on the list. Her mom seemed to spend half her life doing it and the other half moaning about it, but as Brittany looked around the room she couldn't see anything especially messy or dirty. She settled on wiping the toaster crumbs off the kitchen counter, putting all the CDs back into their cases and giving the whole place a good squirt of air freshener. As an extra touch, she hunted around for one of the books Santana had brought around. Shakespeare's Sonnets, he read from the cover - it was perfect. She spent ten minutes throwing the book at the sofa, trying to make it look as if she'd been reading and had just tossed it casually aside. She knew it didn't really matter, but she was desperate to impress Santana. As the pesky voice of her subconscious was so keen to point out, she was competing with Noah, and Brittany wanted to make absolutely sure she won.
She checked her watch again and couldn't believe how little time had passed. Wondering what to do next, she realized she'd not had breakfast yet. She pulled out the box of muesli and some Pop-Tarts, deciding to skip the toast this time. There didn't seem any point making a fresh pile of crumbs. She noticed the shriveled tangerine from yesterday morning was still in the fruit bowl.
"Santana kissed me," she said, throwing and catching the tangerine. There was no way she was ever going to eat it. She aimed for the bin and fired the fruit. It hit the lid, spinning it open and fell neatly inside.
"Yes!" cried Brittany, triumphantly punching her fist in the air.
It felt like there was nothing she couldn't do this morning.
"Happy Christmas," said Noah, handing Santana a silver gift box tied with blue ribbon. Santana smiled weakly. She'd managed to calm down before Noah woke up and, fortunately, he'd put her lack of appetite and near silence over breakfast down to a hangover.
"Go on," he prompted now, and Santana gingerly took the lid off the box. She moved aside a layer of tissue paper and found a matching set of purple lacy underwear. "Do you like them?" said Noah eagerly.
Santana tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice. "This is more a present for you than for me," she said.
"Try them on," Noah urged.
Santana ignored him and sat on the edge of the sofa feeling oddly distant. She glanced down at Noah's present again, dismayed at the dull predictability of a husband buying his wife lingerie. The thought of getting the same gift every Christmas filled her with despair. She wondered briefly what Brittany would have chosen for her. A special book maybe, or something she knew she would treasure and enjoy. She blocked the thought from her mind as a wave of guilt swept over her.
"Right," announced Noah, "I'd better go and get that brandy butter. Are you sure I'll be able to get it?"
"I don't mind going," said Santana, jumping at the chance to get out of the flat, even for a few minutes. "I could do with the fresh air," she added truthfully.
"Drinking champagne with Quinn yesterday is turning into a bad idea, right?" Noah asked.
Santana felt her mouth go dry. Telling a lie was bad enough; hearing someone repeat it made her feel sick with guilt. She turned away and began putting Noah's lingerie back into the silver gift box in a vain attempt to distract herself and stay calm.
"Before you go..." said Noah. He pointed suggestively at the box.
"What, you want me to put this on now?" said Santana.
"I just want a sneak preview." Noah kissed her softly on the shoulder and, as if she'd been stung, Santana shrank away from him.
"If Emmeline Pankhurst could see me now." Santana said, her expression stern. "I'm a school teacher, a pillar of the community, not a plaything." Santana demanded.
Apparently bewildered, Noah turned to Santana. "Who's Emmeline Pankhurst?" he asked.
Santana ignored him and huffed her way over to the flat door, only pausing on her way out to take the embarrassing Santa hat off. Noah's lack of knowledge and apparent disinterest in the things she was most passionate about bothered her more than she could ever admit. He was a good man, she knew that, a solid and reliable husband, but it wasn't enough. Set in his ways and old beyond his years, he was stifling Santana. His safe dependability had once made her feel protected, but these days trapped would have been closer to the truth. She could feel herself changing, too, being squashed and molded into a person she neither recognized nor wanted to be. Was she really more afraid of her attraction to Brittany than of being stuck in a stale marriage? With her, she felt more real, more alive and as if anything was possible. Her refusal to be bound by responsibilities filled Santana with a dizzying sense of freedom.
She stepped out into the street below, enjoying the string of wind on her face. She headed for the shop, trying to pretend that brandy butter was the only thing she'd come out for. It was no good though. With a twinge of guilt, she remembered her promise to Brittany the other evening. Would she have another opportunity to get away today or was this it?
"Hey! Merry Christmas, Santana," called a voice behind her.
Heart racing, she whipped round to see Kurt and Rachel walking towards her. Between Rachel's Santa hat and Kurt's fake leaopard-fur jacket, Santana wasn't quite sure who was the worst dressed.
"What's up?" asked Rachel. "You forgotten where you live?"
Santana was confused for a moment and then realized what the kooky woman meant. "No, I was just thinking of going to wish Quinn a merry Christmas," she said, hoping she didn't look as guilty as she felt. "But I won't now you're here."
"You might as well cop hold of that then," Rachel said, handing her a gaudy-looking trifle. Santana decided she might have to invent a custard-and-cream allergy before they got to the pudding.
With Rachel leading the way, they trooped back across the street towards the flat.
"Come on, Kurty," Rachel called to Kurt. Santana groaned inwardly. It didn't look like the day was about to get any better. Whose idea was it to invite Hummelberry anyway? Santana thought.
It felt strange, opening Christmas presents on her own, and Brittany still wasn't sure why she'd even saved them until today instead of opening them as soon as her parents left.
When she was younger, Brittany had loved searching the house for hidden presents in the weeks before Christmas and she'd never had any qualms about opening the ones she managed to find; it felt as if she'd earned them. But without the hunt, when gifts weren't handed over, it seemed more like cheating to open them before Christmas Day. Or maybe, she reasoned, ripping open the first of the brightly wrapped parcels, she was just getting older and more sensible. She pulled out a pair of socks. Maybe not.
After talking to her Grandmother on the phone, she thought for a moment about ringing Santana. As the day wore on, she was starting to worry more and more that Santana wouldn't be able to get away from Noah. She checked the time again. There was still plenty of the day left, She just had to be patient. She put the phone down. Santana was worth the wait.
A Christmas day with Kurt and Rachel, Santana soon discovered, was every bit as tacky as she'd feared, from the dodgy headgear and Rachel's horror of an outfit, to the garish gift wrap and random presents. Santana had received a pair of fluffy teddy-bear slippers, an industrialized gift pack of rose-scented soaps and a book of handy tips for newlyweds. It might have been funny if it was happening to someone else.
The grand finale had come when Rachel opened her gift from Kurt - a truly revolting handbag. She swung it about, proudly showing off, while Noah and Kurt drifted into the kitchen for more drinks. Santana was pretty sure Rachel couldn't have loved the bag more if it was Prada of Gucci rather than something that had obviously prized little more than twenty dollars out of Kurt's tightly fastened wallet. It looked like roadkill.
"So what do you think?" Rachel asked. "Can you just see me, strutting my stuff down the red carpet? Hey," she added, now cradling the bag lovingly as if it was a baby, "we could go to Sardi's for lunch, just you, me and the bag."
"It's lovely," lied Santana, sincerely hoping Rachel was joking about lunch. If it came to it, she thought, as Rachel landed on the sofa next to her and launched into a guided tour of the bag's insides, she might have to let slip to Kurt how much that would cost.
"Alcohol's up," announced Noah from the kitchen.
"Come on, girls," added Kurt, who was carrying a trayful of full champagne glasses. "A toast, if you will."
"Actually, Kurt, I was hoping I could do the toast," said Noah, and Santana felt a flicker of foreboding. "Grab a glass," he added, handing them round.
Santana took hers, although she had no intention of drinking more than a sip. There was no way she could afford to get drunk today. Loose-lipped and not in full control of her reeling emotions, things could easily go from awful to catastrophic.
Noah raised his glass. "I'd like to make a toast to my beautiful wife on our very first Christmas together."
"Hear, hear," said Rachel. Santana managed a small smile.
"And who knows?" Noah continued. "It might be the last one where it's just the two of us."
Mortified, Santana dropped her gaze. She couldn't look at Noah. What on earth was he doing, making an announcement about something they'd hardly discussed between themselves?
"Ooh, oh." Rachel was twittering next to her. "You're not, are you?" She turned to Santana, beside herself with excitement. "Congratulations!"
"No. No, I'm not," said Santana. She hated herself for sounding apologetic when she had nothing to be sorry for. It was Noah who'd messed up.
"No, Rach. I was just saying, you know, that..." Noah bumbled. He trailed off, embarrassed.
"I'm sorry, I -" Rachel squirmed and shook her head. "Silly me, jumping to conclusions."
Santana joined in with her nervous laughter, although the situation couldn't have been less funny. She knew Rachel, and she knew this wouldn't be the last they heard of it.
Santana felt temporarily relieved as the four of them sat down to eat Christmas lunch. With the exception of Rachel's trifle, she and Noah had prepared everything themselves and it felt good to be in control of this part of the day at least.
"Here you go, Kurt," said Noah, handing over another bottle of champagne before taking a seat next to Santana. "Do you want to do the honors?"
Santana picked up her knife and fork as Kurt began to pour. She'd been in too much of a state to eat breakfast and now realized she was starving.
"Your turn," said Noah, holding out a cracker out to her. She put down her knife and fork, knowing it was pointless to resist. She grabbed the cracker, pulling hard. The contents fell to the floor, and Noah bent down quickly to pick them up.
"What's your joke?" Rachel asked.
"Looks like it's your present," said Noah, softly. He handed Santana a long, narrow jewellery box,
"But I opened all my presents this morning," said Santana.
"Not quite."
"Noah..." Touched and confused, she was lost for words.
"What is it?" asked Rachel.
"What have you done?" said Santana.
"Open it," said Noah.
Uncomfortably aware of her audience, Santana did as he asked.
"Oh, my word." The necklace inside the box was beautiful and she suddenly wanted to cry. After thinking badly of Noah and his earlier gift, this was so thoughtful. The guilt she felt over kissing Brittany last night, over being attracted to someone else, threatened to overwhelm her. She fidgeted in her seat, embarrassed at being the center of attention and certain she didn't deserve such a beautiful present.
Noah stood up and moved behind her as Santana took the necklace out of the box. Rachel and Kurt followed suit, surrounding Santana to get a closer look.
"It's lovely," said Rachel.
"I had to approve it," piped up Kurt.
Noah took the necklace out of Santana's hand and she smiled, despite her discomfort, as Rachel helped him fasten it around her neck.
"I don't know if I've ever said this before, but you look stunning," Kurt said.
Santana smiled gratefully at him, not sure she could have answered through the lump in her throat, even if she'd known what to say.
"I think I'm going to cry," said Rachel.
"Do you like it?" Noah asked.
Santana took a second to get her emotions in check. "I love it," she answered, not sure of the truth anymore.
In some ways, Brittany's life would have been much easier if she had fallen for Sam rather than Santana, but you can't help who you fall in love with. After the events of the last few months, she found it hard to relate to guys her own age, let alone think about sleeping with them. She felt much older than seventeen, more of an adult now, and she wanted an adult relationship. With Santana, she was bothered. She'd waited for her and fought for her, she was in love Santana and having sex with her felt completely like the right thing to do. It was a pity that wasn't all there was to it.
Having a relationship with an older woman was fine - fantastic, even - but older also meant more experienced. Imagining Noah and Santana having sex was usually something Brittany reserved for her blackest moments, but she knew they must do it. She suspected, or maybe hoped, that it was another of those things Santana did because she was supposed to, not because she particularly wanted to. But that didn't stop her worrying she wouldn't be able to live up to Noah. If practice made perfect, it stood to reason that Santana's husband, twenty-something and married, had a pretty long head start on Brittany. She remembered how it had felt to kiss Santana. That had been amazing because of who she was kissing, not how they kissed. Was the same true of sex?
She sighed. There was nothing she could do about it now, and if she didn't stop worrying, she'd have psyched herself out before she and Santana even got that far.
Exhausted by waiting and wondering, she stared blankly up at the ceiling. She fidgeted with her phone, battling the temptation to dial Santana's number. She realized she didn't even know what Santana was doing today. She'd said she would be with Noah, but were they on their own? It would be pretty hard for her to explain away a phone call from Brittany if that was the case. There was no way Brittany wanted to make things any more awkward for her. A text, on the other hand - she sat up straight and opened the phone - that would be simpler for Santana to cover up. Her thumb stabbed at the keypad.
Last night was amazing. When are you coming back? I miss you
She reread it and deleted it straight away. Too full-on. She tried again.
Are you OK?
Short and sweet, but a bit vague. She wanted her to remember how it had felt when they kissed and, she reminded herself, the whole point of this was to find out when Santana could get away from Noah.
All I want for Christmas is you. When?
Definitely not. You could practically smell the cheese. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. She gave one last half-hearted shot.
Tell Noah he's history. I'll see you in ten minutes.
Merry Christmas.
Brittany smirked and shut the phone. As if she would send that.
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