Notes: This predates, overlaps, then succeeds Getting Caught
"Hey, San?" Brittany asks, leaning her head back against Santana's bed and resting her beer between her legs.
Santana turns a page, raising an eyebrow at Cosmo's latest column and absently responding, "yeah, Britt?"
"I don't think I'm good at making out," Brittany says wonderingly.
Once the statement sinks in, she has Santana's full attention. "What?"
"Like, you said it was supposed to be fun, right?" Brittany explains, Santana swinging her legs over the side of the bed to look down at her best friend, "but I don't think I'm good at it, because it's not really fun. It's mostly just wet."
"It's not you, B," Santana says, rolling her eyes and throwing her legs back over the bed to resume reading, "it's them. Boys don't know how to do anything other than slobber all over you. You have to teach them."
Brittany gives this serious consideration for a few seconds, before asking, "but how do I know I'm doing it right?"
"How the fuck should I know?" Santana snipes, picking back up the magazine and shaking it open.
"Craig says you're really good at kissing," Brittany says calmly, unfazed by Santana's tone. She twists around to kneels at the side of the bed, beer completely forgotten. "So, maybe you could teach me?"
"What?" Santana drops the magazine for the second time that night, staring at her best friend, who is giving her that fucking look, "Britt, that's fucking gay."
Brittany's nose wrinkles up, her forehead creasing (and Santana does not think that Brittany is adorable, because that's even gayer than what Brittany's asking of her).
"But, San, you always explain things to me," Brittany protests with a hint of pleading in her voice, crawling up the bed toward Santana, "it's the only way I understand."
"No, Britt," Santana scoots a little to the side, tearing her eyes away from her best friend's, "making out with girls is fucking gay, and I'm not gay."
"I don't think I'm gay either," Brittany says seriously (and Santana cannot comprehend how this isn't an issue for her), "I keep falling asleep during RENT."
Santana sighs, because Brittany is trying to play the dumb card on her even though she knows Santana knows better, and Santana keeps her mouth shut, hoping Brittany will just drop it.
"Please, S?" Brittany's definitely pleading now, and Santana sighs again, rolling her eyes.
"Fine, B," Santana turns to see Brittany's eyes light up (and the only reason Santana's looking at her lips is because it's a reflex right before you kiss someone, duh), "but don't fucking tell anyone. I don't need anyone thinking I'm gay just because you need kissing lessons."
It's all the permission Brittany needs to lean forward, one hand landing on Santana's thigh. Her skin tingles where Brittany's hand is touching it, and Santana has just reached up to push Brittany away when their lips meet. Santana has all of a second to think that Brittany's "bad at making out" excuse has to be utter bullshit (because even Puck doesn't get her that hot, and the boy can kiss), before Brittany is on top of her, and their lip gloss is mingling, and-
[*]
They're making out again.
Santana's not even surprised any more when Brittany crawling into bed with her becomes Brittany crawling on top of her. It's become so normal that Santana doesn't even think about it, just wraps an arm around Brittany's waist and flips her so Santana's on top, and they go on kissing (it's more right than it is with anyone else, but Santana doesn't think about that).
What's not normal is Brittany palming her tit through her Cheerio top, and a moan escapes Santana's mouth (what? anyone touching her feels good, okay) before she sits up, staring down at her best friend. "What the fuck, Britt?"
Brittany doesn't explain, just stares up at her like she's being dumb, and Santana is so used to going along with that look (it's not often Brittany gets something right before Santana does, but she's never wrong when it happens, so) she responds without thinking, going back to the kiss like nothing happened.
A few seconds later, before Brittany can coax her mouth open, Santana's mind catches up, and she sits up again, staring down at Brittany, unable(/unwilling) to understand what just happened.
"What the fuck, Britt?" comes tumbling out of her mouth before she remembers she already said that, and she rolls off Brittany, heart racing.
Brittany comes up behind her, one leg on either side of Santana's, her front pressed to Santana's back. Santana relaxes a little despite herself, breathing in Brittany's scent, and relaxes more when Britt's warm hands slip in under her top and start massaging away the tension in her lower back (and enjoying it doesn't make it gay. Before the Cheerios got their own masseuse, everyone agreed that Brittany gave the best back massages, and Santana has back problems, okay).
"I thought you'd like it," Brittany says softly, kneading out a knot in Santana's back. She says it low enough that Santana has an excuse to ignore it, but there's no ignoring the lips pressed to the side of her neck, and Santana stands up, walking toward the door.
"I'm going to Puckerman's," she says roughly, chills racing through her that have nothing to do with Puck, leaving her best friend to curl up with a pillow, shaking.
(Later, when Puck slips his hand up her Cheerios top, she slaps his hand away and tells him to keep his hand off the merchandise.)
[*]
The next time Brittany kisses her, it's at one of Puck's parties.
A jolt of panic runs through her, and she's about to push Britt away (there are people. fucking. watching.) when a slurred catcall from Puckerman stops her, "woo, Lopez!"
She steals a glance at Puck when Brittany pulls back a little. He and Matt are staring (confusion in Matt's eyes, straight up horniness in Puck's), Mike's trying not to, and no one else seems to care. Something about doing this for an audience feels wrong, but then Brittany's soft lips are on her neck, and Santana comes to the conclusion that there's nothing gay about making out with her best friend if it's for the boys.
(And if Brittany's hand slips up her top on the side she knows no one can see, Santana ignores it, because everyone knows Brittany gets handsy when she's drunk, and even Santana is not so huge a bitch as to call her best friend on being a friendly drunk in front of half the school.)
It's a few parties later, and they're stumbling toward a bedroom with Puck, who decides suddenly that he has to go take a piss right the fuck now, leaving them to fumble their way toward the room on their own.
They fall into bed together, giggling drunkenly. Brittany pulls Santana on top of her, and Santana stops giggling when Brittany hauls her head down to kiss her.
Puck will be joining them soon, and everyone knows he's totally into girl-on-girl so Santana doesn't say anything when Brittany starts pulling her top off. The closer they look to taking things into their own hands, the crazier it'll drive Puckerman she reasons(/rationalizes).
Brittany fumbles a little getting Santana's bra off, and a thoroughly drunk Santana laughs, thinking to herself that there's no way they're gay, because lesbians are, like, good at that shit.
They're almost completely naked, and Brittany's hands are everywhere, but it's okay because any second Puckerman will walk in and join them, and Santana will smirk and ask what took him so long, and everything will be fine (and she comes to the realization that she's really fucking drunk).
Puckerman doesn't come. (Santana does.
She never came with Puck.)
[*]
Santana wakes up the next morning comfortable, warm, and in a bed that isn't hers.
she looks around blearily, realizes that she's naked, Brittany's naked, Puckerman is nowhere to be seen, and she has a throbbing headache. Her first response is to panic and wrench herself away from Brittany (not gay not gay not gay), and she ends up sprawled across the hardwood floor, trying to clutch her head and her right hip at the same time.
"San?" Brittany pokes her head over the side of the bed, blinking sleepily, "come back to bed."
"Can't, Britt," Santana grits, hoping she didn't seriously injure her hip, because trying to explain to her father how that happened is not a conversation she's having.
A blanket lands over her, and Santana freezes, confused. The blanket is followed a few seconds later by a warm body, and Santana is suddenly hit by how fucking cold the floor is.
Her hip hurts, her head is fucking killing her, and it's fucking cold, so Santana focuses on falling back asleep next to (and entwined with) a warm body (instead of how Brittany smells and how she's pretty sure she had gay sex with her best friend last night).
It starts happening at every football/Cheerio party:
She and Brittany will get drunk, Puck will get more drunk, and he'll proposition them. They accept, the three of them stumble to a bedroom, Puckerman passes out. Santana pretends not to notice, she and Brittany have (mind-blowing) sex, and in the morning Puck makes them promise to tell everyone they totally had a threesome.
Santana starts looking forward to it (she tells herself it's because Puckerman will eventually stop passing out like a pussy), and when she and Brittany show up at Matt's uncle's and Puck's not there, she's automatically pissy. Puck invited them to this fucking party, and she knows what he wanted (and knows what she wants), and she did not show up to watch Matt and Mike have a drunken dance-off in the kitchen.
(Seriously, though, Matt can move. She's not ashamed of having a thing for dancers because hello flexibility, and wonders for about half a second why she never tapped that. Oh, right, because he's like her brother and that would be disgusting. Carry on.)
(When Brittany wants to stay) Santana decides a party is a party and booze is booze, but when she spots Dave Karofsky in the living room, she stops in her tracks. The Cheerios all hate Karofsky, and since the one thing Noah Puckerman does not do is sausage fests, Santana had gotten used to attending parties without him (and the look on Brittany's face when he fucks with them hurts, but the look when Santana lays people out is worse so-).
"Oh, hell to the no," she hisses, stalking into the kitchen to grab Brittany, because they are the fuck out of there.
The first thing Santana sees is Brittany's ass as she leans over the kitchen counter to pour shots into shot glasses in the sink itself - if there's one thing they've all learned, it's that Brittany will spill the booze at some point, but since she likes to pour and she's a fucking ninja when she's drunk, it's better to just teach her safe pouring habits - and Santana's mouth goes dry (it's because Brittany has tequila, she tells herself unconvincingly).
Brittany finishes pouring, and turns around with two golden shots in her hand, smiling happily when she sees Santana. "Look what I found, San."
Dave Karofsky constantly calling them "the Queerios" is suddenly the least important thing in the world, because Brittany has tequila shots, and everyone worth knowing at McKinley knows that the only way to drink tequila is with body shots (and everyone who comes to Matt's parties knows that Santana and Brittany will only do them off each other or, sometimes, Santana will do one off Puck and Britt will do one off Matt).
It's five shots later, and the drunks have goaded her into sprinkling the salt down Brittany's cleavage. It would have been impossible in their uniforms, but even if the football players are surgically attached to their letterman's jackets, Santana wants to look a little hotter during the weekend parties than her Cheerios uniform would allow, and Brittany is... Brittany (and Santana's trying not to stare down her low-cut shirt).
Santana licks off the salt (but it's not Brittany that's getting her hot, she's just a horny drunk), tips back her drink, and leans in to suck the lime from Brittany's lips. She's just about to pull away when Brittany locks her arms around Santana's neck, and a simple body shot becomes them making out in the kitchen to applause and catcalls.
Seconds later, Brittany turns her head and spits the lime into the kitchen sink (and Santana digs her nails into her palm to stop herself from leaning forward and licking Brittany's neck, and she'll find the crescent marks in her palm the next day and pretend they don't exist), and then they're really kissing up against the counter, and even though Santana knows Matt and some of the other football players are still watching (so it's okay that her hands are gripping Britt's ass like it's the only thing keeping her anchored to the ground), there's something different about this time, something she can't quite put her finger on.
At some point Brittany starts tugging her upstairs, and Santana's vaguely aware that there's something missing, but when Brittany locks the door behind them and backs her into Matt's bed, she stops trying to remember what it is.
[*]
Puck does this thing for a while where he doesn't show up at any of the parties, and Santana and Brittany stop going when he does. He says it's because Matt pissed him off, and Santana says it's because Karofsky has started showing up (and they both know the other is lying, they just don't care enough to know the truth), so she and Brittany start getting drunk in her room instead.
Brittany has always been an up-close-and-personal drunk, and she's so warm that she and Santana (have the perfect excuse to) curl up on her bed together, passing a bottle of whatever between the two of them.
The first time it happens, Brittany takes the last swallow of the vodka and turns to face Santana, pressing their lips together.
Santana goes with it for a second before pulling back, demanding, "Britt, what the fuck-" but Brittany rolls on top of her before she can finish, nibbling on her lip and reaching a hand down to press her thumb into the hollow of Santana's hip (and Santana moans, bucks, and wraps her arms around Brittany's waist).
If she thought about it (not that she dares to), she would blame vodka and habit, but alcohol makes it easy not to think (and makes it easier to claim she doesn't remember), and Brittany never brings it up. They keep having drunk sex (and if she tells herself enough times she doesn't remember it, then she won't, and it won't count), and it has nothing to do with why she stops calling Puckerman as much.
[*]
Santana knows that Puck's absence has everything to do with Quinn, but she doesn't have any proof, and she only bothers to notice (and doesn't really care despite that) because if she had proof, it would be something to hold over Quinn's head.
Puck's been trying not to chase after Quinn (like Santana should be chasing after Brittany) for as long as Santana can remember, and while she understands any guy wanting to fuck the captain of the Cheerios, he is definitely barking up the wrong tree. Nothing screams "closet case" like making your boyfriend pray every time he gets a little hot and bothered.
(Brittany says it's none of her business but) Santana starts getting Quinn to come over and "study" with them. She knows Quinn wouldn't bother if she didn't need the Spanish help, but they both know that Quinn learns much faster with Santana teaching, and Santana will actually teach when Brittany's there.
It's just to cockblock Puck (because she tells herself she's jealous, even though they haven't fucked in weeks), but it's also kind of to keep Quinn's grades up, because getting captain of the Cheerios just because Quinn can't conjugate a verb without Santana using it to insult her first? Pussy victory.
The first time Quinn walks in on them (having sex) is the first time Brittany manages to get her clothes off without a drop of alcohol in either of them, and if bitchiness wasn't a reflex by this point in her life, Santana would have broken down completely, and if there's one thing worse than getting caught (having gay sex with your best friend), it's losing it completely in front of the HBIC.
Now Quinn is just standing there, staring at them, her eyes glued to Brittany's, and Santana has no fucking clue what to do. If Santana's being honest with herself - and why the fuck not, it's not like her reputation isn't completely fucking wrecked at this point anyway - Brittany's skin feels amazing against hers, and she's fighting the urge to lick Brittany off her fingers.
With Quinn in the room, she can't do anything (can't rationalize, can't forget, because Quinn is there and Quinn is not Brittany, people listen when Quinn talks) and her heart is thudding nonstop in her chest as she waits.
Santana feels like the silence should be broken by Brittany saying something so random it breaks the tension, but for once she's quiet, the hand Quinn can't see rubbing soothing circles against Santana's side (and looking back, Santana will know Brittany is handling her, and it doesn't bother her like it would have at the time).
Quinn takes a deep breath. She straightens her spine, reaches a hand down to smooth her skirt, and turns around. Santana watches in disbelief as Quinn picks up her books, strides smoothly to the side of Santana's bed, and sits down, leaning against Santana's comforter.
Brittany pushes lightly at Santana's thighs, and she rolls off of Brittany before she can think about it, watching Brittany curl up on her side facing Quinn, scanning the Spanish text over her shoulder.
"Whatever," Santana mutters under her breath, completely at a loss, and stalks into her adjacent bathroom to take a shower (and even though washing Brittany off her skin feels wrong, she doesn't have a clue what she's supposed to be doing, so).
When she comes back out - naked, because all her clothes are in her bedroom, and Santana is not about to wear a towel into her own room just because Quinn's in it - the scent of sex is still heavy in the air, and Brittany has somehow coaxed Quinn into the bed with her. Quinn's textbook propped up in the crook of her elbow and Brittany is spooning her, still naked and reading the text aloud in flawless Spanish.
Santana snorts and starts walking across the room to pick out something to wear when Brittany catches her eye, and Santana stops in her tracks. Brittany's monologue trails off, and she jerks her head behind her. Santana can't believe what's happening (she just started trying to build back up her rationalizations in the shower; she's not gay, she's just-) but Brittany's eyes are saying please and Quinn's eyes aren't saying anything at all because they're fixed on the book in front of her, and in the end, it's Quinn's breathing, shallower than normal and taken in too-long, controlled bursts, that convinces Santana to climb into bed with them. Quinn's breathing says she doesn't know what's going on either, and maybe, maybe Santana can salvage this.
She's still tense as she presses her slightly damp front against Brittany's back, but when Brittany goes back to narrating, she reaches back for Santana's hand and pulls her closer, intertwining their fingers, and Santana starts to drift off despite herself.
Quinn doesn't say a word all night until she has to leave, but the next time Santana invites her over to study, she shows up early and lets herself in quietly.