"I've Imagined It All"
Chapter 2
The European leg of Santana's solo tour went over well, for the most part. She had to cancel two nights in Frankfurt because of laryngitis. Fans weren't pleased, but her manager and agent went to work smoothing things over for her. On those two nights, she camped out in her hotel room using a borrowed computer to video chat with Brittany. She coughed her way through an explanation of the previous three nights' performances in Paris. At one point in the conversation, Brittany told her to wait and disappeared for about five minutes. When she returned, she was carrying a giant bowl of chicken soup, "for you," according to Brittany. Santana smiled and tears came to her eyes. On the plane ride home, Santana was so nervous to see Brittany that she couldn't keep still. Instead, she wrote song after song, humming each in her head and matching music to lyrics to choreography and tour set design.
When she landed at LAX at four in the morning, the black Suburban took her straight to Brittany's apartment. She used the key Brittany had given her a year ago to quietly enter. When she crossed the threshold, she was greeted with a "Welcome Home" banner, newspaper article clippings praising her recent solo tour, and a bouquet of gardenia.
Gently, she turned the knob to Brittany's bedroom door and found Brittany sprawled out in her bed, hugging Santana's pillow. She dropped her travel bag on the floor and carefully pulled the pillow from Brittany's grasp.
Brittany smiled up at her sleepily, awakened by the disturbance. "Hi."
Santana felt tears brimming in her eyes as she stood over Brittany, taking her in.
"Come here." She pushed the pillow up and pulled the sheets back, allowing Santana entrance. Santana - shoes, coat, and all - climbed in and cupped Brittany's face in her hands. Pulling Brittany's face close to hers, she pressed her full lips to Brittany's and pulled her bottom lip between her own, drawing the kiss out. Brittany closed her eyes and reached up to wipe the tears coming down Santana's cheeks.
Santana tucked her face into Brittany's collarbone and inhaled sharply. She wrapped her arms around Brittany's midsection and pulled tight. Brittany rested her hands on Santana's back, tracing light circles. "Go to sleep babe."
After a few minutes, Brittany felt Santana's breath even out on her bare skin and she closed her eyes.
When Santana awoke, Brittany was running her fingers through her hair and looking down at her. She smiled, "You still have your shoes on, you know."
Santana tented the sheets, looked under and laughed. "Oops!" She took another glance and her eyes raked up Brittany's body. She was wearing short cotton boyshorts and a tank top. Santana hooked a finger under the tanktop and pushed up, revealing Brittany's toned abs. Her fingers ran over the skin, then down and over top her boyshorts.
"I missed you."
"I missed you, too, San. Take these off." Brittany yanked at her coat and jeans.
Dipping back into the bed, Brittany's hands immediately drew Santana into a searing kiss, tongue velvet against her own. When they pulled back, Brittany's pupils were dilated and her hands pulled at Santana's body, urging more contact. Santana hooked a leg over top of Brittany's thigh and pulled herself on top, straddling the tall dancer.
Her eyes studied Brittany from her new position. She pushed her center down on Brittany's thigh, displaying her arousal.
"It's been three weeks, Santana. I need you," Brittany fiercely whispered, canting her hips in search of friction.
Santana adjusted herself, bringing their clothed centers together. Her hot breath whispered in Brittany's ear, "Can I have you like this?"
"God," Brittany pushed herself into Santana, slowly circling her hips up, while Santana pressed her pelvis against Brittany. "Yes, please."
As much as Brittany hated when Santana went away, she loved it when Santana returned. Usually, their first time having sex after a long break would mean that one or both of them was so needy that they'd grind against one another like horny teenagers until they were panting, sweaty, and waking the neighbors. By the end, their underwear was soaked through and the smell of sweat and arousal filled the room. In Brittany's mind, there was no better way to reconnect.
Brittany hooked her legs behind Santana's back and worked her hips higher. Sweat dripped off of Santana's forehead and into the nape of Brittany's neck, where Santana had buried her head. Brittany's hands rhythmically squeezed Santana's behind, urging her to move faster.
"I'm close," Santana gritted through her teeth, quickly rocking her hips in up and down against Brittany. Brittany's cheap IKEA bed squeaked as she worked her hips faster. She pulled her head out of Brittany's neck and looked down to find the blonde's eyes closed, mouth open, and head pushed back. Her face getting more and more red as she fought for air.
Brittany's hips jutted up, hitting just the right spot as Santana let out a guttural moan. Her body froze in its position, pushing flush against Brittany.
For a few minutes, the two lay engulfed in one another. Santana's flushed face pressed into Brittany's chest, glistening with sweat. When Brittany felt the strength to move, she pushed Santana's sweaty hair off of her face and kissed her forehead.
"I have some good news," Santana finally shared.
"Oh?"
"The label wants me to do a full-scale tour. With choreography. And music videos." She smiled into Brittany's neck.
Brittany pushed Santana up to look into her eyes. "That's amazing Santana!"
"Will you be my choreographer?"
"Of course!" Brittany pulled her into a tight hug.
"Will you come on tour with me?"
Brittany pulled her back again, face puzzled. "Really?"
"Yeah. I really do want you on tour with me Britt. You're an amazing choreographer and dancer. You're my best friend. I need you."
Brittany's face remained puzzled for a moment, awaiting more from Santana. Having sex on and off for nearly eight years, but just as a best friend. Brittany sighed, then bit her bottom lip. "Yeah, ok, I'm in." From high school, through college, and after, Brittany still couldn't say no to this girl.
... ...
Teenage Santana's bedroom was completely dark except for a desk light illuminating silhouettes on the wall and the blue light of the computer. Her bed was pushed against the wall, leaving an open space and two chairs in the middle of the floor.
"Britt, this is gonna be awesome. It has to be perfect."
Brittany smiled, eyes glancing over to Santana who was wearing a black sweatsuit to match her own white sweats. Brittany had choreographed a dance, complete with sexy chair dancing a la Britney Spears, for their favorite song of the past, "Red Light Special," by TLC. Santana had been playing around with the mixing on her computer and figured out a way to drop the vocal track so that she could sing it live. Brittany had been prancing around her room, in the meantime, telling Santana she had the perfect dance moves for the song.
They spent an hour practicing in Santana's room before she ran downstairs to the living room to swipe the video camera and tripod.
"Santana, what are you two doing up there?"
"Just making a music video, mom."
"Well don't erase your little brother's soccer game from the camera, I haven't put it on the computer yet."
"Whatever, mom," Santana yelled as she slammed her door. Her teenage years seemed to be filled with "whatevers" and slammed doors, so she heard no complaints from mom.
Santana sat on the chair, straddling its back and facing the camera, her head lowered and hood raised. Brittany put a red pillow cover over the desk light, shading the room a dark red.
Santana popped her head up in excitement, "Oh that's so great, Britts! C'mon, let's do this."
Brittany flicked the camera to record and double clicked on the track before joining Santana on the second chair, taking the same position.
The music keyed up and Santana and Brittany bobbed their heads slowly in unison. As the lyrics came in, Santana pushed her head up, seductively singing into the camera. Brittany continued to bob her head in time to the beat as Santana sang the opening verse.
When the chorus kicked in, Brittany stood, moving behind Santana. She pulled the singer back and so that her back rested against her abs. With one hand, she pulled Santana's hood off and with the other she unzipped the front of Santana's hoodie, revealing a black bikini top. Brittany's fingers traced their way back up Santana's bare midriff, causing Santana to suck in a breath.
Santana stood suddenly, toppling the chair to the ground. "Shit! Dammit, Britt!"
The music continued to play loudly as Santana whirled around to face Brittany, zipping her hoodie back up. "I can't concentrate on singing when you're doing that to me."
"Doing what? We practiced this part." Brittany's brows knitted in confusion. She was shouting at Santana to be heard above the music.
"You fingers are like...they're...I can't do that. We need to change the choreography."
"No, Santana! You said I was the choreographer. You can't just be in charge of everything."
"Yes, Britt. This is my house, my song, and you're my choreographer."
"No. I'm not." Brittany grabbed her backpack from beside Santana's desk and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
Santana turned the music off and threw herself on the bed in the corner of the room. She buried her face in her pillow and screamed into it.
