As Santana sat on a rickety stool by the door to the kitchen of the wooden shack that Rachel had told her was a café and examined her nails disinterestedly, Rachel rushed around like a very short, very irritating headless chicken, complete with clucking and screeching noises.
"Santana!" She squawked as the girl in question caught a flash of hideous woollen sweater pass her. "Could you please help me?"
Santana considered the blur of movement for a moment before tilting her head to the side and shrugging.
"Nope."
Rachel let out an involuntary noise of exasperation as she continued scrubbing away at a stain on one of the vile floral tablecloths.
"Can't you just give me a hand to turn the closed signs around?"
Santana considered this for second before realising that if she turned the 'Sorry, we're closed' signs, that sat in every single window of the 'café' then people might actually come in and start trying to get her to serve them.
"Definitely not." She decided, smirking a little as Rachel rubbed at her red cheeks in frustration and went back to her scrubbing.
"The place looks fine Berry." Santana made an attempt to placate the irate girl. "Well, not fine, it's a shithole, but I don't think there's anything you can do about it save for taking a bulldozer to the entire thing."
"Not helping Santana." Rachel bit out through gritted teeth.
"Fine. Jeez." Santana folded her arms across her chest after making sure her nails were suitably short. These matters were important for a lesbian after all. "Just calm yo' tits and I'll turn the freaking signs round."
"Calm my what?" Rachel paused her furious scrubbing, staring at Santana with a suitably appalled expression.
"Your tits Berry." Santana repeated, cocking an eyebrow as she slid from her perch. "You know, the rambunctious twins that live on your rib cage?" She eyed Rachel's chest through the baggy woollen jumper and raised the other eyebrow with a smirk. "Or, in your case, the totally not rambunctious fried eggs that live on your rib cage."
Rachel gasped, affronted, immediately raising her hands to her chest as Santana cackled with an evil sort of mirth.
"At least mine are real." The shorter girl shot back and Santana's face morphed into a fierce glare. Rachel took no notice. "And I'll have you know that no one has ever complained about my modest bosom. In fact, my last boyfriend had rather small hands so he liked them because they fit perfectly -."
"Ay, Dios!" Santana yelled, clamping her hands over her ears. "Please Berry. I do not want to hear about that. Ever."
"I hardly think that's fair Santana." Rachel huffed. "Not when I have to literally hear your sexual escapades at least three times a week."
"Four." Santana muttered with a proud smirk. "And yes it is fair. Know why Berry? Because I'm sexy. And you?" She eyed Rachel again, up and down with a predatory smile. "I'm pretty sure that you're the perverted fantasy of a woollen sock puppet."
Before Rachel could overcome her highly offended floundering Santana had turned on her heel and sauntered over to the window, smiling triumphantly.
"I thought you said this place was popular." Santana drawled, her head lolling into her palm as she stared at the clock whose minute hand seemed to be moving backwards instead of forwards.
"It usually is." Rachel hummed along to the Funny Girl soundtrack that she had insisted on playing obnoxiously loudly on an old CD player in the corner of the narrow kitchen area behind the counter. Santana swore to God that if she had to hear one more second of 'My Man', she was going to stick her head into the giant urn that sat on her left hand side, filled to the brim with boiling water.
"What are you doing?" The Latina asked as Rachel began to potter around, drawing out a tray and setting about four or five cups on top of it. "Making tea for the invisible customers?"
"No." Rachel replied with a shrug as she began to fill a copper kettle with already boiled water from the urn. "While it's quiet I thought I might take some cups of tea and coffee to the other volunteers at reception and in the pet supply and charity stores."
"And leave me here?" Santana exclaimed incredulously. "Alone?" She reiterated when Rachel merely shrugged.
"There's no one even here yet, Santana." Rachel tried to soothe her but just ended up sounding inherently condescending. "You'll be fine for five minutes."
"But what if someone comes in?" Santana hissed, peering fretfully out of the steamy window.
"Then you serve them." Rachel said slowly, as though talking to an infant. "The mighty Santana Lopez isn't afraid of a couple of coffee shop customers is she?"
"Okay, one. This shithole does not constitute a coffee shop." Santana threw her hands up, gesturing to the once whitewashed ceiling that was brown and green in patches with damp and what appeared to be some form of fungus. "And two. Santana Lopez isn't scared of anything. Now get out of here afores I ends you!"
"Okay." Rachel shrugged sweetly, happy to have her own way as she flounced out of the door, laden with her tray of tea and coffee. "And don't forget about the list of rules I drew up for you about proper barista etiquette." She called back.
"Bitch." Santana muttered once she had closed the door, scowling at the piece of paper on the countertop to her right that did indeed play host to a list of never ending, ridiculously detailed rules on the 'dos' and 'don'ts' of customer care.
Now that she was alone and her woollen-clad distraction had disappeared Santana spared a moment to really survey the place. For the most part, it looked clean if not sterile with neatly mopped floors and well-scrubbed tablecloths. The chairs however, upholstered in a dark blue material, appeared to be covered in some kind of animal hair causing Santana to shudder and quickly check the seat of the stool that she was perched upon, sighing in relief when she discovered it hairless.
A huge mural covered the back wall of the small eating area, displaying poorly painted and badly faded farm animals and there was a huge dresser in the corner filled with old stuffed toys that had seen better days.
'God.' Santana thought to herself. 'My standards have clearly dropped. I can't believe I'm even sitting in a place like this.'
She was broken out of her inner musings when the door opened again, bringing with it a cold gust of autumnal air. The Latina almost jumped out of her skin and cracked her head against the edge of the cabinet above her as she leapt out of her seat.
"Hello?" A soft voice called and Santana heard the sound of heavy footfalls walking past the door to the kitchen. "Rachel?"
Steeling herself to actually offer non-sexual services to another, Santana wandered over to the opening of the counter and made herself visible to her first ever customer.
"Oh, hi." The feminine voice said again as she spotted the Latina behind the counter and Santana looked up to greet her with an initially cold smile before it melted clean off of her face.
Standing before her, drumming long, feminine fingers against the edge of the countertop was a tall blonde. The hair that cascaded out from beneath her woollen hat was windswept and her pale cheeks reddened from working outside in the cold. She was clad in a patched green jacket and a hideous yellow, woollen scarf...
But, holy shit was she gorgeous.
Santana was instantly mesmerised by the dazzling million dollar smile and sparkling blue eyes.
"You're new."
Santana almost shit herself when the woman spoke but quickly jerked her head from side to side to clear it and nodded dumbly.
"Yeah." She said, wondering why the hell her tongue felt so heavy. "I just started today."
"I was wondering who they were going to get to replace Mr. Kidney." The blonde mused, bringing a finger up to tap at her chin. "He was not a good kisser."
Santana eyebrows rose of their own accord.
"Sloppy, you know?" The woman seemed to be talking more to herself than to Santana but the Latina nodded anyway. She knew a thing or two about sloppy kissers. "Anyway, I'm Brittany. It's nice to meet you Sultana."
'Brittany…suits her...wait, Sultana? What the fuck…"
"Oh!" She suddenly remembered the repulsive, brightly-coloured name tag attached to her shirt. "Um, it's Santana."
"Oh." Brittany squinted her stunning eyes at Santana's chest and the Latina felt herself getting a little hot under the collar at the close attention. "Oh yeah, sorry about that." Brittany bit her lip apologetically and Santana looked around for a switch to turn the heating down. "Santana. It suits you. It's really pretty."
"Er, thanks." Santana scratched awkwardly at the inside of her wrist. "Erm, what can I, er, get you?"
'Ay Dios, what the fuck is wrong with you Lopez? Where's your game?' Santana berated herself as she continued to stand there like a muppet.
"One orange juice please." Brittany ordered cheerfully. "I have my own special glass that Rachel got me." She smiled proudly, tapping the top of the counter. "It's in the cabinet under here."
"Oh, okay." Santana mumbled dumbly as she opened the indicated cupboard and stooped down to peer into it. Inside, there were rows and rows of plain transparent glasses but at the front sat a glass decorated with several cartoon ducks. "It doesn't happen to be this one does it?" Santana plucked the glass from the cabinet and set it on the counter.
"Yes!" Brittany clapped happily. "How did you know?"
"Just a hunch." Santana shrugged, feeling a little calmer before looking around. "Erm, do you know where they keep the juice?"
Brittany pointed to another cabinet that housed several different, alphabetised bottles of juice and Santana bent down to retrieve it, rolling her eyes as she did so. It was so obvious that this kitchen had a bad case of Rachel Berry Syndrome.
Santana chuckled internally at her own wit before standing up and bashing the back of her head against the edge of the countertop.
"Fuckshitfuckfuckityshitfuck!" She cursed loudly, dropping the bottle of juice on the floor and clutching at the back of her throbbing head.
Suddenly remembering that she was with company and rather sexy company at that, Santana grabbed the bottle and stood up straight, rubbing her head gingerly and sending a wide-eyed Brittany what was supposed to be a charming smile but came out as more of a pained grimace.
"Are you okay?" Brittany sounded sincerely concerned.
"I'm fine." Santana's voice came out much more high-pitched than she would have liked. "Absolutely fine. Fine, fine, fine, fine, fine…"
"Er, do you need some ice?" Brittany asked as the Latina in front of her continued to chant the word 'fine' under her breath as she unscrewed the bottle cap. "My Mom says that usually helps."
"Nope. That's okay. I'm fine." Santana hummed, topping the glass up with water from the tap and setting it in front of Brittany with a patented Santana Lopez wink. "Enjoy."
"Thank you." Brittany smiled gratefully if not slightly unsurely and they fell into a strange sort of silence. "Rachel normally stops to talk to me whilst I drink my juice." The blonde explained as she continued to linger by the counter. "But she's not here…"
"She just went to give people coffee." Santana told her.
"Oh, okay." Brittany nodded. "So, do you want to talk to me?"
Santana balked at the question. Under normal circumstances, if someone asked her that question so seriously she would have said no and accompanied it with either a bitchily dismissive hand gesture or simply sauntered away, but right now she really didn't want to do either of those things.
Maybe it was the bump to the back of her head that was still throbbing painfully but before she even knew what was happening she had shrugged and nodded her head.
"Sure."
"Yay." Brittany sounded truly enthusiastic, taking a big gulp of her squash. "So, are you friends with Rachel?"
Santana snorted involuntarily.
"She's my roommate." She answered vaguely.
"That's so cool." Brittany's eyes lit up. "I still live with my parents whilst I get enough money to get my own place."
"Are you a paid employee here?" Santana asked curiously.
"Nope. I'm a volunteer like you and Rachel but I work with the cats." Brittany explained and Santana noticed the blonde's eyes light up as she said the word 'cats'. "I teach at a dance studio in New York."
"You're a dancer?" Santana couldn't help but let her eyes trail more appreciatively over Brittany's mostly covered body.
Makes sense.
"Yep." The blonde smiled happily. "I've been dancing since I was like three years old. What about you? Do you have a job or do you go to school like Rachel?"
"I'm a bartender." Santana told her.
"Sexy." Brittany seemed to have an aversion to any kind of internal filter. Whilst at first, it had thrown her a little, Santana actually found it kind of refreshing. A lot of the girls she had met were often deviant and had their own agendas, much like herself, but this strange blonde in front of herself didn't even seem to know the meaning of the word devious.
"Er, thanks." She shrugged, unable to find a suitable reply. "So...you like cats?"
Really Santana? Did you really just ask that?
Despite mentally facepalming at her question, it seemed to be exactly the one to ask the vibrant dancer.
"I love cats. I have one at home." Brittany nodded emphatically. "His name is Lord Tubbington."
"Lord Tubbington..." Santana repeated slowly, unsure if she had heard correctly.
"Yep." Apparently she had. "I used to have two cats but Charity ran away. At least I think she ran away. My Dad always used to say that Lord Tubbington ate her because he gained a bit of weight after she was gone but I think he was just comfort eating because he missed her so much."
Okay, so maybe this girl was a little strange. Santana could honestly say that if anybody else started talking to her about kitty cannibalism she would have torn them to shreds by now with her vicious, vicious words, but there was just something about Brittany that was undeniably...endearing.
Maybe it was the way her blue eyes sparkled happily or the way she gesticulated zealously with those long-fingered hands of hers but Santana just couldn't bring herself to find Brittany's enthusiasm annoying. In fact, if anything, it was contagious.
"So wait..." The Latina backtracked realising that Brittany was still speaking at a rapid rate. "Your cat ate your other cat?"
Brittany stopped talking mid-sentence and cocked her head cutely to the side, causing her woollen bobble hat to slide to a jaunty angle, before she shrugged.
"We never really found out." She said simply. "But sometimes I talk to Lord Tubbington's tummy. Just in case Charity's getting lonely in there."
Santana couldn't tell if she was being serious but took the odd comment in her stride.
"So have you worked here long?"
"I started about the same time as Rachel." Brittany pursed her lips in thought and Santana watched as her pink bottom lip disappeared beneath its twin. "My Mom thought it would be good to do something in my spare time. Will and Emma's son is in my Thursday ballet class so that's how I found out about the centre."
"Will and Emma?"
"Mr and Mrs Schuester." Brittany corrected herself. "They own the sanctuary."
Santana nodded, unsure of what to say next. Brittany didn't seem bothered by the sudden silence but tapped her foot on the floor in a rhythmic beat and dug around in her jacket pocket.
"Would you like to see a picture of Lord Tubbington?" She asked out of the blue, already tapping away at her iphone.
"Er, sure."
Brittany grinned and leant against the counter before turning the phone to face the Latina.
Holy. Crap.
Santana literally recoiled as a picture of the biggest cat she had ever seen, that was sitting in an equally giant flower pot, was thrust in her face.
"Wow. He's...cute."
"I know right." Brittany smiled smugly. "None of the cats here are anywhere near as big as him."
The blonde was apparently very proud of this feat so Santana stayed silent.
Brittany retracted her phone and the Latina was about to change the subject when a beeping sound broke through the air. The irritating noise was apparently being exuded from the digital sports watch on Brittany's wrist because she brought the device up to her face and furrowed her brow at it.
"Oh." She said, as though something had suddenly dawned on her. "It's time to give the cats in the isolation block their medicine." She saw Santana's confused look. "I kept forgetting to do it so my friend Quinn bought me a watch so I could remember. The only problem is, I keep forgetting which alarm is for what. Last week, I gave them medicine for their breakfast!"
Santana couldn't help but wonder how this woman was still allowed to administer life-saving medication to living creatures but shrugged it off when Brittany flashed a bright smile at her.
"I have to go, but it was really nice to meet you Santana." The blonde reached out her hand for a handshake and Santana took it in her own smaller one, marvelling at the softness of Brittany's palm and the spidery fingers that brushed against her wrist.
"It was nice to meet you too Brittany." Santana liked the way the name rolled effortlessly from her tongue.
They stood shaking hands for what would probably be considered longer than necessary before letting go.
Brittany offered her one last wave and smile before heading for the door as Santana unconsciously leaned forward over the counter and watched her go.
The blonde had been gone for less than a minute before the door opened again and Rachel made a reappearance.
"Brittany was here?" She asked immediately and Santana merely nodded.
"She's such a sweetheart." Rachel walked through the door to the kitchen and joined the other brunette behind the counter. "A little odd though. Some of the things she says are kind of...wait, you, er, weren't mean to her were you? Because Brittany's -."
"Shut up Berry." Santana frowned at her, displeased by the implication. "Just because you annoy me to hell doesn't mean everybody does."
"So you didn't say anything rude to her?" Rachel asked in disbelief, ignoring the insult.
"Like I said, I don't hate everybody." Santana shrugged.
"Yes you do." Rachel frowned, not relinquishing her argument. "Yesterday you said that you wished everybody on earth would die except for you and Scarlett Johansson."
Santana chuckled. She had forgotten about that little rant.
"Well, I changed my mind." She shrugged again, brushing past Rachel and pretending to be busy by opening the fridge and peering inside, hoping that Rachel would leave her alone.
She heard Rachel huff and start pottering around the kitchen again causing the Latina to smile triumphantly and return to her stool by the window.
Peering out through the cracked glass she caught a final glimpse of the tall blonde dancer disappearing down the path. She had shed her jacket and laid it in the wheelbarrow she was pushing along in front of her so that Santana now had the perfect view of Brittany's jean-clad ass.
She smiled to herself.
Maybe this won't be so bad after all.
Thanks for reading. Sorry for the immense wait. Totally my bad.