Title: If I Just Saved You (You Could Save Me Too) [Part Two]
Rating: Hard R
Word Count: 8.6k
/
Kissing becomes a frequent thing between them after that night.
It never goes any further, but Santana finds herself not caring.
Fighting becomes less frequent, as it seems, drinking too, actually, and Santana also finds herself preferring to stay in with Brittany at one of their houses instead of going down to the bar to get trashed.
Really, it's kind of fucked up, and if she thinks about or thinks about talking to Brittany about them, it only leads to more questions than it answers and so she just doesn't.
A month goes by in the blink of an eye, and it's sort of become an unspoken agreement that every Friday night, they'll go to Santana's house, order in a shitty Chinese from the only one in town and watch some bullshit film that Santana never watches, instead choosing to stare at Brittany out the corner of her eye. She thinks Brittany knows, but she doesn't really care, especially when Brittany shifts against the couch and leans her head in Santana's lap, tugging at one hand so she can hold it in front of her, whilst the other automatically goes to stroke through blonde hair.
But then one night they're at the bar, deciding to go for a drink and to see Puck since there's a new part-time bartender and he's got the night off, when shit goes down.
Santana's up at the bar, grabbing a round of drinks for her, Brittany and Puck, and Puck's at the slot machine in the corner, wasting all his money. She's telling the young blonde guy the order when he hears Brittany's voice back at the booth. She can't make out what it is, assuming it's just Puck coming back to the table and grumbling about losing his wages even though it's not that fucking surprising, but when she spares a quick glance over her shoulder, she finds some random guy standing at the table next to Brittany, one hand braced against the back of her chair as he leans over her, talking.
Now Santana, believe it or not, has some restraint. She knows from her previous relationships, as little as that number may be, that jealousy, being clingy and being overprotective is definitely not sexy, and so she just assumes that this guy is Brittany's friend or something and goes back to the drinks. Plus Brittany sort of frowns upon Santana beating the crap out of people now, and the girl's so damn friendly that this guy could be her friend, and if Santana kicked the shit out of him then Brittany would not be pleased.
The blonde bartender smiles at her and nods at him to put it on Puck's tab and he grins back, full well knowing that Puck's going to be pissed. Santana kind of likes this new guy though, he may be a little weird but he's funny and doesn't ask questions when she puts drinks on a tab that quite clearly isn't her own.
Anyway, she grabs the drinks, balancing them carefully and makes her way back over to the table, sliding into her chair and scooting it closer to Brittany, one hand pushing the drinks to their places and the other going to the small of Brittany's back to let her know she's there without being rude and interrupting their conversation.
But Brittany has other ideas, and turns to her with a lopsided smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Hey," she whispers and Santana looks at her, seeing how something is just offabout the way Brittany's staring at her.
"Hey... Everything alright?" She asks, finally taking a look up at the guy and shit, this is the guy she kicked the crap out of the other week. Jesse something.
"It's you," Jesse spits and Santana arches a brow up at him. Oh, that explains Brittany's weirdness.
"I'm not looking to fight tonight," she says, cutting to the point. "I don't fight anymore."
Brittany looks at her with confusion, but she just smiles back, saying I'm doing it for you and Brittany's face breaks into a smile. She shifts a little closer, pressing into Santana's side and Santana lets out a sigh as she looks up, seeing narrowed eyes glaring down at her.
"Can I help you?"
"You owe me a grand," he grunts.
Santana bites back a laugh. "I won that fight fair and square," she shrugs, picking up her beer and taking a swig. "And I'm not looking for a re-match."
"I'm not asking for a re-match," Jesse leans down, across the table. "I'm telling you we're going to have a re-match."
That sort of tone never goes well with Santana, and she wets her lips and clenches her jaw as her fist curls against the small of Brittany's back. Blue eyes flash to her, questioning what she's doing and she can already feel the anger curdling within her. She's known for having a short fuse, and Brittany knows that, which is why she's staring at Santana with such worry. And it really doesn't help that it's been weeks since she's punched someone, well over a month actually, and even though she has no plans to do it again, this guy is really testing her patience.
Sure, her face has cleared up now and she's planning on keeping it that way, sure she has enough money to last her for the rest of her life anyway with the wagers she didn't spend and the amount her parents left after their death, and sure, it makes Brittany happy that she's not fighting and drinking away her life anymore, but this guy... This guy is being a real dick right now. He's winding her up and even though Brittany can usually calm her down—in the past month, Brittany's stopped Santana from kicking the crap out of at least four people—it doesn't seem to be working right now.
"I'm not fighting you," she manages to get out through clenched teeth. "So you might as well leave now."
"I didn't come here to fight you anyway," he settles and Santana's instantly suspicious about him giving up so easily. "But if you're going to refuse then I might as well keep on talking to your girl here," he smirks down at her, eyes flitting to Brittany and Santana tenses. He really is trying her patience.
(Plus he just said your girl and Santana isn't sure Brittany is.)
"She doesn't want to talk to you," she spits back, clamping down her jaw. "So. Back. Off." She punctuates each word with a slight pause.
"It's a free country," Jesse shrugs. "And if you're not going to fight me then I guess I'm just going to have to talk to your friend here."
Santana looks to Brittany who's leaning away from Jesse, and Santana sort of loves and hates that she's the only one that can see the disgust in blue eyes.
"Is that how you want it?" He continues and Santana's back goes rigid. "I mean, I don't mind. Girl's got a pretty face," he says, taking the hand off the back of Brittany's chair to stroke at her chin. Brittany jerks back, shaking her head up at him but stays quiet. She's no good with confrontation. "And I bet she's got a really fine body beneath those clothes," he eyes Brittany's body lecherously and well, that's the last straw for Santana.
"Santana!" Brittany yells, but Santana's already jolting up, chair tipping back and crashing onto the floor as she rounds Brittany's chair and pushes Jesse back with her hands against his chest.
He smirks at her like he was expecting it and even though she really doesn't want to stoop to his level, even though Brittany's calling her name, she's so angry that everything's sort of blurry apart from her target, everything's sort of muffled from the low buzzing in her ears except the sound of Jesse laughing dryly at her and she can't really do anything about it. She's already cracking her knuckles, clenching them into tight fists and thinking about how many punches she can knock him out in when a body slides between his and hers.
Her eyes snap to the offending person, but then she sees Puck glaring down at Jesse in front of her, and then there's arms wrapping around her arms after they're pinned to her waist, hot breath against her ear.
"Just calm down," Brittany breathes gently, but Santana's still seething at Jesse who's smirking at her over Puck's shoulder. "He's not worth it."
Puck must notice because he grabs Jesse by the collar and hauls him out the bar, throwing him through the front door where he lands in the snow just outside of it. It should give Santana some satisfaction, but she doesn't notice anything apart from the smirk on his face and it succeeds in pissing her off more. She steps forward, trying to break from the embrace with a strong wiggle but Brittany's stronger than she looks and ends up holding her back.
"Don't," Brittany whispers against her ear, lips brushing the shell. "Please, don't."
It breaks something in Santana, the begging, the tone of Brittany's voice, and her entire body relaxes as Puck kicks the door shut and storms back over to them.
"You okay, Lopez?" He asks, his tone low and pissed off.
She nods sharply and Brittany's arms loosen from around her. "I'm fine," she grunts and shakes her arms out, some of the fury going with it. "I'm fucking fine."
She slumps back down on the chair again heavily, grabbing her beer and downing it in one straight gulp as Brittany sits beside her. Anger is still pulsing through her veins, and she's in one of those moods now where the tiniest thing's going to set her off. But that rapidly disappears when Brittany looks at her out the corner of her eye and then shifts her chair a little further away, almost like she's scared of Santana.
And well, that just sort of kills Santana.
Still, she just stands and heads to the bar, ordering a glass of scotch instead of a beer, and ignores the sound of Puck telling Brittany to leave her alone for a while.
/
She's a little drunk later on, things are a little blurry and there's that weird buzzing in her mind, but she's cool. She's not pissed out her brain and falling over and crap, so she's good.
Except from the fact that Brittany hasn't spoken her to her since the whole Jesse thing and now Puck's driving them back to Santana's house and all Santana wants to do is reach across the back seat, grab Brittany's hand and apologize. Not that she knows what she's apologizing for but it's been four hours since she's touched Brittany and shit, she's kind of dying over here. She's just that pathetic now.
Puck pulls up carefully, the snow traction strips allowing him to do it without swerving and Brittany quickly leans in to kiss Puck on the cheek and thank him before she slides out. Santana stays put, watching as Brittany walks through the snow, clutching her jacket close to her body as she steps up to the stoop and enters the house with the spare key Santana gave her a few weeks back, and she kind of fucking hates that she feels guilty right now. She hates that she scared Brittany most of all, but she knows she's gotta face this.
Twisting in his seat, Puck throws an arm over the back of the passenger seat and cocks a brow at her. "Remember what I said," he says. "Don't be a dick."
He doesn't know about them kissing, or the intense make out sessions that may have happened over the past few weeks, and so she nods but doesn't say anything else as she climbs out the car, barely looking back at Puck inside the car to say thank you as she shuts the door. It's not like she doesn't want to tell Puck, it's just that she doesn't know what the kissing means so she doesn't want to say something wrong, and he's not stupid, he's noticed something more between them—they are pretty touchy after all—but he hasn't pried further and Santana has to admit, that's one of the reasons she likes the guy.
The wind is cold and bitter against her cheeks, but she ignore sit as she trudges into her house, shivering and shaking off the flecks of white covering her hair and coat as she looks around. Brittany's not downstairs by the looks of it, and Santana presses her tongue to her teeth as she climbs the stairs and walks slowly to her bedroom door, pushing it open to find Brittany with her back to her, stripping the shirt from her torso and rummaging through the dresser to borrow something of Santana's.
(It's hard not to feel those butterflies in her stomach when Brittany just looks like she belongs here, doing all that domestic crap.)
"Britt," she calls out, quietly, playing with her hands in front of her stomach. "Britt, I'm sorry."
Brittany pauses, hands buried in the clothes in the top drawer. "You don't have anything to be sorry about," she sighs.
Santana takes a step forward, the door closing behind her. "I do," she whispers. "I... I scared you."
Brittany's head drops and she turns around, crossing her arms over her chest. That only emphasizes her abs though and shit, Santana's seen this girl topless hundreds of times now but a girl can only take so much sexual frustration before she implodes.
"You did," she admits, lowly.
Santana swallows, guilt rushing through her. "I know," she squints slightly, walking forward until she's in front of the blonde. "I'm sorry, but that guy..." Her jaw clenches at the memory. "He was a douche."
"He was, but Santana, you don't have to come to my rescue. I could've handled him without you losing it."
"He wasn't just going for you, though," she replies, holding the eye contact. "He was trying to get me to fight him over protecting you and I wasn't going to do that."
Brittany's arms drops and she closes the gap between their bodies, her arms coming between them, one resting over Santana's heart whilst the other cups her cheek. Santana hand shoot out to hips, but she tenses when her palms graze over soft skin. Shit. She forgot about the topless thing.
"Yes, but you shouldn't have taken the bait," Brittany murmurs, eyes roaming over her face. "All he was going to do was flirt with me in front of you and I would've told him to back off."
Santana narrows her eyes. "I wasn't okay with him flirting with you. I wasn't going to fight him for you and I didn't want him flirting with you, so whatever I did, you would've been pissed one way or another," she explains, taking a step back and turning around, one hand resting on her hip and the other rubbing at her forehead. "If I hadn't stood up to him, you would've thought I was a shitty girlfriend, but if I had, like I did, you're pissed that I took the bait." She spins back around again. "I just can't wi—What?" She cuts off, noticing the look on Brittany's face.
Brittany's staring at her with unbridled adoration, her blue eyes soft and head tilted, lips curved up at the side. It's not really a smile, but it's like Santana's the most amazing person in the world and as she tracks back, going over her words, she realized what she said and instantly chokes up. It's probably comical the way her eyes widen because she just called Brittany her girlfriend. Fuck. After weeks of soft touches, lazy kisses and sleeping together in a way Santana wasn't privy too before, she's just put a fucking label on them and crap, she's just run the risk of fucking, whatever the hell is going on between them, up.
"Shit," she stutters, shaking her head. "I didn't mean to—"
Brittany takes a long stride forward, grabbing a fistful of Santana's shirt and tugging until they're kissing, hot and opened mouthed. Brittany's tongue pushes into her mouth, stroking over her own hotly and she whimpers at how deep and needy the kiss is, her fingernails biting into the skin of Brittany's waist as she tries to get a hold of herself. It goes on for a long moment, and she fights back, pushing back and sliding her tongue into Brittany's mouth, her tongue flicking against the roof of it until Brittany bites back, teeth nipping at Santana's bottom lip and tugging it back.
Now, like she's said, they've kissed. They've had some pretty heavy make out sessions with Santana pressed between Brittany's thighs, her hand sliding beneath Brittany's top and cupping her over her bra. But this kiss feels like there's something more, and for the first time since she lost her virginity at aged fifteen, she panics. She pulls back, breaks the kiss and stares, open mouthed at Brittany, breathing hard and heavy as she gazes into deep, blue eyes.
"Don't take that back," Brittany whispers, voice hoarse as their foreheads tip together. "Please, don't take that back."
Santana just blinks, taking in the happiness in Brittany's eyes and ends up nodding. "You're my girlfriend," she says instead and Brittany presses their lips back together with a smile.
So she says it again, and again, until everything sort of fumbles into hungry kisses and desperate touches, and the next thing she knows is they're naked, panting against each other as Santana works her fingers between Brittany's thighs. Blonde hair litters the pillow, and she presses hot open mouthed kissed down the long expanse of Brittany's neck as her thigh shifts between Brittany's leg, adding to hot, sensitive flesh until Brittany's gasping in her ear, back arching off the comforter and fingers clenching almost painfully tight in Santana's hair.
She doesn't really know how they went from talking to this, but she's definitely not disagreeing. Especially when Brittany's chuckling in her ear, then using strength Santana didn't know of prior to this evening to flip them over as she kisses her way down Santana's body, paying attention to each hardened nipple before trailing her tongue down tight abs and then to where Santana needs it most. And it's almost embarrassing how fast she can feel her orgasm approaching when Brittany's tongue flicks out against her, stroking through slick heat and then dipping down.
Heat blooms across her entire body, pressure building fast in the base of her spine and when two long fingers slide deep within her, she can't hold back the several muffled curses that spill from her lips, nor can she help the way her hips begin jerking violently until a strong hand presses against her hip to keep her steady. But then a tongue flicks out against her clit and it's only a few more flicks until she's peaking, her thighs locking around Brittany's head as the syllables of Brittany's name pours from her lips through stuttered breaths, her body quaking as the waves of her orgasm crash over her.
With one final kiss to hot flesh, Brittany pulls her fingers out and moves back up the bed until she can kiss Santana, dip her tongue into her mouth and let Santana groan at the taste of herself.
There's a light layer of sweat covering both their bodies, and Santana hums into the kiss until Brittany pulls away, flipping onto the space in the bed beside and pressing her hand to her forehead as they both catch their breath. They lay in silence for a long moment, but then Santana begins smiling, and the smiling turns into laughing and when Brittany side eyes her, she rolls on top of her girlfriend and brings their mouths back together, feeling Brittany's grin stretch lazily beneath her lips.
They pull back when the need for air gets too much, but even then they stay close, Santana propping herself up on her elbows as her hips fit between Brittany's thighs, the back of her fingers brushing over Brittany's cheeks as Brittany stares up with her with bright, blue eyes that she can't seem to tear herself away from.
"So..." the blonde starts and the sound of her voice makes Santana smile instantly. "That was nice."
"Nice?" Santana repeats, arching a brow, but she's just screwing around. "Just nice?"
Brittany giggles. "I meant it was a nice surprise," she reiterates. "I was wondering when that would happen though."
Fingers wind through her hair, tugging gently and Santana hums, leaning into the touch. "Why's that?"
"You just seem a bit... Guarded," Brittany murmurs, staring her straight in the eye. "Like you don't let people in."
Santana stills, blinks down at her. She wants to tell Brittany that she's let her in, that she's finally broken down those walls but that would be a lie. Brittany doesn't know a lot. She may know a few things, but none of them are really important. Brittany doesn't know about the dark things, the deepest secrets like how she found her brother passed out on his bedroom floor from an overdose when she was nine. How she used to listen to her parents night after night, yelling and screaming at each other until there was a thud and a yelp, and then the next morning, her mom would be sporting one hell of a shiner. How she'd go out with her brother when she barely a teenager, selling baggies of various drugs to random strangers down dark alleys, and how on many occasions, the deals didn't go to well and she'd end up having to watch her brother use the crowbar he'd always carry in his long coat, or even in a few cases, use it herself.
Brittany doesn't know anything, but she just seems so pure and innocent, so good, that Santana doesn't want to unleash her past on her. She doesn't want to damage someone so bright, so fucking wonderful, but she can't tell Brittany that. She wants to open up, but it's just the same as before; before when she didn't even know Brittany's name, before she'd even shown Brittany that she wasn't all doom and gloom, but she just can't.
She can't unload onto someone like that. She can't reveal her fears, trust Brittany with all her secrets, and show her why she's like this. Why she spent night after night drinking herself away, and fighting with the hope that someone would come along and do more damage than intended. She just can't, no matter how much she wants to.
So, instead of replying, she just leans back down and presses their lips back together, slowly slinking down her girlfriend's body moments later before settling between her legs.
They don't talk for the rest of the night.
/
The next day she walks to the bar with the biggest smile on her face.
The front door's locked so she wanders around to the back, pushing aside a few empty barrel as they block her way to the door. Shit, Puck really needs to employ someone else here full-time. The blonde guy was nice but this place is a mess with just Puck running it and the only reason it's been relatively clean recently is because she cleaned the damn bar top. Otherwise that thing is sticky as shit. It's a wonder how he even has fucking customers in a dump like this.
That's when she gets and idea and she stumbles in, catching her foot on the step she always forgets is there and curses beneath her breath, "Shit."
Puck wanders by in front of her, carrying three crates of baby mixers in hand. "If you break anything, you can't sue this place. You're the one breaking and entering."
"It's not breaking and entering when the door's open," she points out, rubbing the back of her neck as she walks through the storage room to the bar.
Puck dumps the crates on the bar top, passes one over to her to start unloading. "So what brings you here so early?" He asks, and she looks down at the bottles, smiling to herself when a sudden memory of last night flashes back to her. "And why the hell are you smiling?"
She shakes herself out of it, quickly correcting her expression with a blank one. Her hands begin tearing open the plastic wrapping of the bottles. "No reason. Look, I was wondering..." she starts, pausing as she clutches several bottles to her chest. "This place is a shit hole, right?"
Puck scoffs at her, stocking the fridge with the bottles in hand. "If you're gonna ask for a favor you're not exactly going the right way about it."
"Whatever. Look, it must be pretty difficult to run this place on your own right?"
"Yeah."
"Right, well, I was just thinking—Like, maybe I could be here sometimes..." she suggests, slowly. "For a bit, you know? Help out and shit."
Puck stills, eyes shifting to her. "You wanna job?"
She rolls her eyes at his tone. It's half-surprised and half, well, touched. "Shut up."
"You're not gonna fight anymore?" He asks, his voice going a little high. She shakes her head. "Like, for real?"
She lifts a shoulder. "No. My eyes have been opened and now I've got more important things."
Staring at her for a long while, Puck eyes her over like she's trying to figure out what the strings are; but then he realizes there aren't any and begins bobbing his head, a grin stretching across his face. "It's Britt, right?"
In the only way she knows how, Santana rolls her eyes but doesn't answer, instead choosing to get on with her first job as a bar maid at Puck's bar: stocking the shelves.
It's safer than fighting, she guesses.
/
An hour or two later, Brittany comes breezing in the door and Santana whips her head around from where she's standing behind the bar. Puck shoots her a smirk from the other end where he's serving someone, and she just throws him the 'taking a break for five' look that he nods in response to.
Brittany grins at her as she slides into a stool, and Santana throws her rag to the bar behind as she rounds it, parting Brittany's legs and sliding between them when she gets to her girlfriend.
"Hey," the blonde draws out, her blue eyes locking onto dark ones.
Santana's heart flutters as she tucks a piece of hair behind Brittany's ear. "Hello," she whispers and can't even help herself as she leans down, brushing their lips together, almost not kissing Brittany at all.
When she pulls back, Brittany's staring at her with bright, shocked blue eyes and Santana barely gets a grin in before Brittany follows her again, bringing their mouths back together as her hand slides around a tanned neck, locking her in place. The smile quickly fades from her face and Brittany sucks in her bottom lip, nose nudging against Santana's cheek as the kiss deepens.
But then one of them whimpers—Santana doesn't even know who—and she remembers where she is and how much this is probably turning Puck on, so she pulls away with an apologetic smile.
"Sorry," she whispers, against Brittany's lips. "But Puck's probably perving on us."
Brittany giggles and leans up, kissing her once again before fully backing away and sliding her palms up Santana's arms. "It's fine," she replies, biting on her bottom lip. "And not that I'm complaining, but what was that for?"
"Just saying hello to my girlfriend," Santana winks and lets her hands fall to Brittany's thigh, squeezing whilst long arms wrap around her neck loosely.
"Oh, so now I'm your girlfriend?"
She grins and laughs through her nose, nodding. "Well I never took it back last night, and I'm pretty sure what happened after was a good example of why we should totally be together."
A fair eyebrow lifts. "Because we have awesome sex?"
"Well, yeah," she chuckles. "But I mean there's loads of other reasons, too."
Interest peaked, Brittany inquires, "Oh, yeah?"
"Yep. I mean, you're hot and I'm hot," Santana strokes her hands up Brittany's jean cladded thighs, marking each point off with it. "You're an amazing kisser and I'm an amazing kisser," she strokes again. "And you know, there's the sex, too, but you've already said that."
Brittany rolls her eyes. "You're ridiculous."
"And I'm rubbing off on you," Santana points out. "You just rolled your eyes."
Brittany grins. "I don't mind you rubbing off on me," she winks. "But tonight I was thinking we could get a takeaway and then..." she trails off slightly, lifting Santana's hands and spreading her fingers against tanned ones. "See how things go."
Stomach flipping, Santana nods, mind flashing with memories of last night. She feels heat pool low in her stomach at the mere thought and bites down on her bottom lip as Brittany smirks at her.
"I'd be okay with that."
Brittany cranes her neck up and Santana smiles as she meets her halfway, kissing her slowly. When she pulls away she's dizzy, a little light headed, and she takes in a deep breath as she leans forward to bury her face into the crook of Brittany's neck, sliding her arms around her girlfriends waist and pulling her against her.
"Santana! Break it up and get back to work!"
A grunt leaves her mouth as she leans back, meeting blue and rolling her eyes at Puck. "Shut up, Puckerman. There's barely anyone in the bar so stop being a dick."
Puck laughs throatily behind her but Brittany strokes her cheek with the back of her finger, grabbing her attention. Their eyes meet once more.
"I've gotta go anyway, babe," Brittany tells her. "I was only coming to say hello before I go do some errands."
Even though it kind of sucks, she wanted to spend more time with her new girlfriend, Santana nods and they kiss quickly before Brittany squeezes her hand and leaves the bar, telling her she'll be over at Santana's at six o'clock. Santana just nods and stares at the retreating form of her girlfriend as Brittany exits, throwing a 'can't wait to see you later' look over her shoulder that makes heat coil in the pit of Santana's stomach.
When she gets back behind the bar again, Puck shoots her a knowing smirk, cocking his head toward the door to gesture to Brittany; but she just whips a towel at him and tells him to shut up, despite the fact she's grinning like an idiot because Brittany's on her mind.
/
Late at night, they're lying in bed, naked and breathless, Santana on her back with Brittany lying in the spot next to her, running her fingers over Santana's hand resting on her own abdomen.
Suddenly, Brittany shifts closer and picks up the hand, dusting her lips across the scarred knuckles before sinking back down to the bed with a long exhale, her eyebrows furrowing as she stares at the hand she just kissed, and from that, Santana knows exactly what's coming, so she just waits.
After a long moment, Brittany speaks, "Why do you fight?"
Santana turns her head on her pillow, offering a lopsided smile. "I don't anymore."
Blue eyes roll playfully as Brittany giggles. "Okay, smart ass," she shifts closer until their noses are squashed together. "I mean, why did you?"
Shrugging, Santana thinks of the pull in her stomach, telling her that this conversation is about to get serious, and she doesn't mean to be rude by what she says next, it's just that she doesn't want to talk about it. If she starts to, then she'll have to go into the reasons behind her knowledge of fighting, like where she learned to do it, and that's just delving into a whole other bunch of crap; and she's just not sure she's ready to unleash her past on Brittany.
She sighs, and presses her lips together, letting her eyes drift off into the dark room. "Britt, didn't we already have this conversation months ago?" She asks through an exhale. "When we first met, we talked about this."
Brittany doesn't seem like she's going to drop it though, and props herself on her elbow as she leans over Santana. Her palms presses to the flatness of sculpted abs, her eyes locking with Santana's again. "Yeah, I know, but I mean the real reason. Not the reason you gave to a stranger."
Even though she's not one hundred percent sure she wants to open up to Brittany, she knows she has to give her something. There's a lot of deep, dark shit that's happened in Santana's life, and sure, she can't just come out with all of it—Brittany would probably freak the fuck out if she did—but she's got to build some trust between them. She's known too many relationships to break up because of lack of honesty or trust, and she doesn't want that to happen with Brittany.
So with that thought in mind, a portion of truth just pours out.
"One night I was having a drink with Puck and a guy came in," she recalls, swallowing thickly and looking back to the ceiling. "He was shouting and yelling, saying that he could take anyone, no matter the size, weight or strength of them."
"So you fought him?" Brittany interjects, head tilted to the side.
"No," Santana shakes her head, eyes flicking to blue and back to the ceiling again. She takes in a deep breath, remembering that night. "I didn't fight him but I watched him take down like, six guys in the ring before some other guy came in. A big guy from Salt Lake city. He was ripped, like clearly ripped with his muscles bulging from his shirt and his veins visible in his arms." Her eyebrows scrunch together as she thinks of the guy. He really was huge, like almost freakishly big. "And of course the guy who'd just beat up six guys said he could take him." She pauses, licks her lips and looks down sadly, knowing what's coming next. "But with once punch to the head, the guy that was giving it all that, just died. Straight up, fist to the head and he dropped dead in the ring."
Brittany gasps next to her, her entire body tensing as her hands attempt to clutch at Santana's abdomen. "Someone died?"
It's probably not the best thing to admit, not with the connotations it brings considering she used to fight, but she nods anyway. "Yeah. I watched him die with a single punch," she swallows thickly, clenching her jaw and teeth. "And I was in a really shitty place back then."
Brittany shoots up immediately, bracing herself on one elbow and looking down at Santana, her hair hanging off her shoulder beside Santana's face. "You wanted to die?" She half-screeches. "That's why you started fighting?" Her eyes are wide, terrified and a pang of guilt strums through Santana as she looks at her, not quite knowing whether to reply honestly or not.
Yet despite the hesitation, she does anyway. "I wasn't suicidal," she mutters, honestly, breaking the eye contact to look away. She can't handle looking into Brittany's eyes sometimes. "I just—I was in that place where if I did fight," she takes in a deep breath. "And I did die," Brittany's eyes stay trained in her and she slowly brings the eye contact back. "Then I wouldn't have cared," she lets out through an exhale, lifting a shoulder and letting her fingertips skirt over the notices in Brittany's spine.
"You just didn't care?" The blonde girl repeats, a little breathlessly like she can't believe what she's hearing. She narrows her eyes, shakes her head and continues, "You didn't have anything to live for?"
Santana lets out a deep breath, her hear thudding against her chest. "No, I didn't," she admits, sadly, knowing that at that time, she didn't. It was bad, and she didn't even really have Puck back then because he was just another bartender to her, supplying her with the alcohol that made her feel just a little better for then. She exhales loudly and quickly, pulling Brittany a little closer like she's her safety blanket, protecting her from her past.
"Anyway," she starts again, shaking her head and pulling herself from those depressing thoughts. "Fighting just sort of became a habit after," she explains, trying to make the situation a little lighter considering she just revealed something pretty deep. "The money was good, I never lost, and I had finally found something I was good at."
Brittany's looking down at her, wholly concerned and not even a little cheerier, and Santana sort of wishes she'd never said that. It brings up a whole bunch of other questions, of other suspicions and she's not quite sure she can open up fully yet. She's still a guarded book, her gates are still locked and even though she thinks that Brittany may be the person to finally push through them, she's not sure they're quite there yet.
Damn. How she wishes they were. Things between them would be so much easier.
Sensing the cogs turning in Brittany's mind, Santana leans up, sliding one hand around the back of the blonde's neck and pulling her down halfway so their lips meet in the middle. She kisses her slowly, softly, trying to tell her with the kiss that she's really trying to open up but she can't. She tries to tell her with the brush of her lips that she's sorry, that she wishes she could just tell her everything but she can't right now and that it sucks just as much for her as it does for Brittany because Brittany really does mean so much to her. Almost everything, actually. And it seems it works because when she pulls away, Brittany's got a lopsided smile on her face and she's gazing down at Santana with such affection and understanding that it makes Santana's heart do this weird little flip flop thing.
"But it doesn't matter anymore," she suddenly comes out with, staring up at Brittany and stroking her fingers along the fine hairs at the nape of Brittany's neck. "None of that matters anymore," she breathes, wetting her lips. "Because now I have something to live for."
The grin that spreads across Brittany's face is so wide and infectious that Santana almost finds herself smiling herself, too, but she doesn't get to that point because warm lips are covering hers and Brittany's throwing a leg over her hips, straddling her and gripping at her cheeks as her tongue dips into her mouth.
/
The next day she's with Shelby, just helping her around the house and doing some chores, but it's when they're in the laundry room that Shelby seems to notice the strangely good mood Santana's in. Only reason it being strange is because Santana's rarely in a good mood, but Santana's been smiling so damn much lately that she doesn't even notice herself until she's loading the washing machine and feels Shelby bump her shoulder.
She looks to her, sucking in both lips and trying to hide the smile she only knows is on her face because her muscles are aching again. "What?"
Shelby grins at her, almost knowingly and Santana restrains the urge to roll her eyes. "What's got into you?"
"Nothing," she replies quickly, turning her attention back to the clothes, separating the whites into the basket sitting on top of the table beside her and shoving the colors in the machine. "Why?"
"You've been different over the last few months," the older woman explains, opening the washing machine beside Santana and beginning to load it with the whites Santana's separating. Santana doesn't really know why the woman has two machines, or has enough clothes two fill up two considering she lives on her own, but whatever. "And you haven't turned up on my doorstep bloody and drunk which is a big improvement."
Feigning the need to cough, Santana clears her throat, staring intently at what she's doing. It's not like she doesn't want to tell Shelby about Brittany, but it's just that Shelby's basically a mother to her. She's the only mother figure she has in her life, only relative figure in her life, and never once has she introduced a girl to Shelby. She's never even kept a girl around long enough to even consider doing that, and shit, she's never had a girl fucking effect her like Brittany has, so introducing her to Shelby is like a massivedeal. It's her version of meeting the parents, the siblings, the cousins, grandparents and aunties and uncles, all wrapped up into one because Shelby is her only family.
"Yeah, I—Erm... I don't fight anymore," she explains, quietly, quickly reaching up to scratch at her eyebrow to cover the expression she's pulling.
Beside her, the older woman stops completely, hand hovering in the air, clutching a pair of white socks. "Really?" She asks, voice breathless like this is the biggest news of the year. "You've stopped fighting?"
"Yeah... Yeah, I gave it up. I, erm—I'm working with Puckerman at the moment. Just some work behind the bar," she shrugs nonchalantly whilst her fingers gingerly pick up what she thinks is a thong. Gross. "It's not much but, it's better than fighting, I guess," she shrugs again, feeling a bit weird that she's explaining herself like this.
The hug she's wrapped up into barely a second after she's stopped talking is so tight she almost can't breathe, but instead she just laughs as Shelby releases her, letting her find her stability again. "That's fantastic, Santana!" Shelby cheers, smiling proudly and rubbing her shoulder. "I'm so happy for you!"
Santana nods to herself, a little proud of herself, too. "Yeah, I'm... I think I'm cleaning up my act, you know?" She says, not really asking a question as she spares a glance at Shelby who clapped her hands together in front of her, eyes shining with pride. "I think it'll be good for me."
"Definitely," the older woman agrees, strongly, beaming with joy. "And not that I'm not ecstatic because I am, but why the sudden change?"
"I just..." Santana trails off, her thoughts going wild with the debate of whether to tell Shelby the truth. If she does, she knows Brittany's going to want to meet the girl that's changed Santana. She'll want to meet the person who seems to have done the impossible, but Santana's not quite sure she's ready for that. Most people think it's the person meeting the parents that should be worried, but they never really consider how the one with the parents feel. Shit. Now she's just psyching herself out.
Fuck it, though. She might as well go for it. Brittany's amazing, she's the best thing that's ever happened to Santana and she shouldn't be hiding away, keeping her back with all these fears she has. She should embrace Brittany.
With that in mind, she twists her body so her torso's facing Shelby and takes in a deep breath. Here goes nothing.
"I've met someone." Shelby's head snaps around immediately, eyebrows shooting up. "I've met a girl, and... Yeah," she smiles to herself as Brittany races through her mind. "She's amazing," she lets out a short laugh through an exhale, furrowing her brow quickly. She can't believe she just said that out loud. She never says anything that would make her look remotely vulnerable out loud yet here she is, having to bite her tongue to stop her from gushing about her girlfriend.
"What's her name?"
Brown eyes flicker up. "Brittany," she says, breathlessly, feeling her stomach flutter as her girlfriends name rolls of her tongue. That's something she's not sure she'll ever get used to. "Her name's Brittany."
The soft smile Shelby sends her way makes her roll her eyes because she knows she looks ridiculous, smiling just because she said Brittany's freaking name. Seriously, when did she get so pathetic? Next thing she knows she's going to start gushing about her or something equally as stupid. Maybe she should just get back to the laundry.
"And she stopped you fighting?"
Santana continues sorting through the laundry as she speaks, trying to act as cool as possible. "Yeah," she tells her, but then realizes how bad that could've sounded; it's not like Brittany forced her into it, in fact, Brittany didn't even suggest it, she was just a good enough reason for Santana to stop fighting and sort her damn life out. "But it wasn't like an ultimatum or anything," she quickly adds, shrugging. Shelby raises a brow and she guesses that means she wants to know more. "I don't know... I mean, I guess she just... influenced me to stop. She made me see that there are better things to do in life than getting drunk and punching the living crap outta guys for money," she lifts a shoulder again with a smile and twists her neck to Shelby, scrunching her brows together and squinting like she's trying to get Shelby to understand.
"You know?" She asks, but doesn't really. Shelby just smiles. "She just... She was there and it was like, that Plato guy with the cave," she takes a deep breath in, grabbing the last two pieces of laundry and separating them between the washing machines. "I was surrounded by darkness and only saw the reflections of what I thought of life, and that was the bad things. But then Brittany came along and it made me wanna escape the cave I was in, and when I stepped outside, I saw everything that was real and that life isn't so bad," her brows furrow, crinkling her skin as she explains it. She's trying to understand her own words but it's getting a little muddled up. Why the hell is she trying to explain her journey with Brittany with fucking philosophy!? "Like, Brittany was my sun and she made everything clearer for me with her optimism when I took that step out of my cave, but she herself didn't take me out of it. She didn't force me out, she just stayed the way she was whilst I got there myself, urging me on and then when I got there, she welcomed me with open arms."
Realizing she just went on some massive philosophical rant with actual knowledge, Santana coughs, ignoring the fact that blood's rushing to her face with embarrassment as she picks the laundry basket up and hitches it against her hip, twisting to Shelby again. But when she does it, she sees the softness in the older woman's expression, the hand placed above her heart and hears the sigh that comes from her as she stares at Santana and damn, now she feels like the world's most adorable puppy. She fucking hates that.
"Don't look at me like that," she mumbles, ducking her head to her foot as it scuffs along the linoleum floor, making a weird little squeaking sound.
Shelby snaps out of it immediately, pushing the rest of the white washing into the tumble dryer and turning it on. She knows that Santana hates that look and Santana's so grateful she realized she was doing it before she stormed out because she actually likes Shelby, likes having a mother figure and kind of wants to keep her around.
"So..." Shelby starts up again, turning both machines on and leaning back on it when she's done, looking Santana in the eye and crossing her arms over her chest. Okay, serious talk. "Am I going to meet her?"
"Yeah," Santana counters, instantly, widening her eyes as herself for such a sharp response. Before she was freaking out about it, almost didn't even talk about with Shelby and now she's making a commitment to Shelby that she'll meet Brittany? What the hell is going on with her? "I just... I don't know when," she sighs, tilting her head to the side as her thoughts begin to pick up. "I want to make sure it's solid before she meets my family. She's met Puck," she offers, sucking in her bottom lip. "But it's not the same, you know?"
Shelby smiles softly again, this time making sure it's not like the time before. "That's understandable, Santana," she steps away from the machine and heads to the door. "I'll look forward to it, though," she adds, throwing a look over her shoulder. "She sounds like a keeper."
Santana just smiles to herself.
Yeah. She's beginning to think that, too.
/
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