Suddenly, now that everything was official and approved, all the paperwork signed, and the memos forwarded; the atmosphere was kind of tense, anticipating the conversation at hand, waiting for two people meeting each other to become the reporter and the reported. Santana remedied that by making sure she was comfortable, in the one place in the building that she was allowed to let her hair down.
She lead Brittany into one of Clockwork's computer labs, an out of the way lab on the twelfth floor that she preferred because of the low traffic. She didn't like sharing a space with people she felt were judging her. Santana moved quietly to her favorite workstation, the one near a window. Brittany took the seat next to her. It was a large desk, with what seemed like an infinite number of drawers. Santana was well versed in each one and what it contained. Her hands never stuttered, never paused, never wavered. She had confident hands.
Brittany had watched Santana bring out a few items and roll up her shirtsleeves before she got to work. She wasn't sure what the Latina was doing exactly, but that wasn't new. She was surprised to find that she wasn't nervous to ask.
"What are you working on?"
Santana glanced up, then back at the materials in her hands.
"I'm just tinkering. I'm disassembling this so I can see how it works, I mean," she snorted, a little amused at herself, "I know how it works, but sometimes, if I rip things apart, I can figure out a better way to put them back together."
"Oh," Brittany nodded, leaning forward in her seat next to Santana.
"One of the biggest problems with our products is that they get too hot if they're running for a long period of time," Santana continued, popping open the cover to a model of tablet her company sells. "I've been bringing up the issue for the past year but nothing ever happens. I even tried to delay the release last fall, but you know... money is money, and they wanted the product out there."
Brittany nodded and watched Santana fiddle around with the next couple of parts, using an impossibly small screw driver to either loosen or pry them out carefully.
"So you're officially my shadow now, huh?" Santana asked even though it was obvious. She decided that they needed to talk about it.
"Looks like it," Brittany smiled a little, she had to admit that she was a little nervous, she wanted to live up to all the expectations that had been placed on her. She wanted to keep Santana out of Maxim.
"You did really well at the meeting yesterday," Santana looked up to meet Brittany's eyes when she said it. "I didn't get a chance to tell you after because of all of the contract stuff, but I was really impressed."
Brittany could fell her cheeks heat up and ducked her head to try and hide it, "Thank you, Santana, that really means a lot to me."
She gave her a half shrug, "I'm just being honest."
She could have been just saying it to be polite and Brittany still would have taken it to heart, because just being polite was more that what Artie was willing to do for her.
"Are we going to play twenty questions or are you just going to watch me mess around with this stuff," Santana asked only half joking.
Brittany blushed at how easy it was to forget she was supposed to be working. Santana saw her open the notebook she had been caring around since she came to Clockwork. It fell open easily, in a well used manner, slimmer than it should be from missing pages, leather bound, soft and worn. It was a well loved notebook and Santana wasn't sure anything about herself deserved to be placed in something so close to the blonde. She wasn't that important.
Brittany skimmed the notes, and from her angle, Santana could just barely make out the writing, a scrawl that looked a little loopy and almost half-cursive. It was a drastic contrast to Santana's own blocky all capitol handwriting. Brittany licked her lips, and Santana waited anxiously for the first question that will get this whole thing started, the tension was killing her.
After a small breath Brittany glanced up to meet Santana's eyes and asked, "What's your favorite color?"
Santana let out the puff of air that she hadn't realized she had been holding and nearly laughed, "Are you serious?"
Brittany hesitated for a moment, dropping her eyes back to her notes, fiddling with the pen in her hand, "Um... yes?"
Santana chuckled to herself, running a hand through her hair, maybe this won't be so bad.
"Uh, red, I guess."
"You guess?" Brittany quirked, amused at the uncertainty.
"Um," Santana shrugged, "I don't know, I want to say black, but that's kind of depressing, and I look good in red so..."
"Red it is then," Brittany agreed and jotted it down in her notebook. Santana watched her do it, a hint of anxiety returning as she was reminded that everything she says is going to be tracked, analyzed, and remembered.
"You?"
Brittany looked up, surprised by the question, Santana herself looked embarrassed.
"I mean," she gave a flip of her bangs to appear nonchalant, keeping her eyes on the computer parts in front of her, "I think, at least in the beginning, it would make this easier for me if we could like, pretend that this isn't an interview and that we're like..."
"Just getting to know each other?" Brittany finished for her when she trailed off.
"Yeah..." Santana spun her screwdriver between her fingers, "I know you're not obligated, and it's probably a weird request, don't feel like you have to or anything—"
"No," Brittany smiled, softly and genuinely, catching Santana's eyes. "I would like that actually, it's blue. My favorite color is blue."
Santana wanted to ask what shade, a navy or cerulean, like her eyes, but kept that to herself, waiting for Brittany's next question.
"What was your first car?"
Santana snorted, rolling her eyes at herself, "Oh my god, when I was sixteen my parents gave me the rights to a five year old Ford Focus. That beater got me from A to B for the better part of my life, I almost cried when it finally gave out my sophomore year of college."
"Where did you go to college," Brittany's interest perked, "well, junior college, I know you have like, five masters degrees."
Santana blushed from across the desk, flattered and bashful, "I thought your research would have told you that, besides, I only have two."
"Oh right," Brittany snapped her fingers playfully, "only two, that's not impressive at all. How many minors do you have?"
"Shut up," Santana blushed harder, focusing on her work to try to keep Brittany from seeing. "I'm still thinking about a PhD... I'm not sure I'm going to ever get around to it, I'm so busy. "
"You should keep it in mind," Brittany mused, "not may people get to that point, it's special, and very impressive."
Santana scratched the end of her nose, "Really, the only reason I thought about it was because I... thought that maybe, if I couldn't make it in the real industry, I wanted to teach. I've had some really great teachers."
One side of her mouth twitched down at the thought, Santana had been planing on having a hard in this career since the beginning.
"Where did you go to college?" Santana asked to get the conversation off of herself for a moment and for the sake of pure curiosity.
"I got my bachelors in journalism at NYU," Brittany offered with her own bashful smile, "and you never answered my question."
"What question?" Santana's voice sounded confused, but Brittany couldn't see her face as she reached into a drawer for an impossibly small Allen-wrench.
"My research hit a little bump when it comes to your education, the only information available is from grad school," Brittany flipped to another page in her notebook, "your undergrad was never mentioned in any of my sources, and your enrollment dates don't imply that you got your undergrad at Berkeley. Care to elaborate?"
"What are your sources?"
"A reporter never tells."
"Good thing you're a journalist now," Santana smirked over her work. "How's that feel by the way?"
"The saying still fits," Brittany didn't back down. "Where did you go to junior college?"
"Why does it matter, if my bachelors in computer science is lame compared to my masters in—"
"Because you don't want to tell me for some reason."
She watched Santana look up from her work, a gaze critical and analyzing. She was waiting for Brittany to continue so she could react accordingly.
"You're deflecting Santana," Brittany stated the obvious, "I find it interesting."
"Interesting?"
Brittany watched her shift the metal in her hands, working the battery pack out of its case. She hadn't meant to find a nerve on the first day, "I won't pry, but I am curious."
Santana snorted, trying to be lighthearted about it, "That's your job though, right?"
"To an extent," Brittany shrugged, she didn't want to describe her work as prying. "I don't need to go any deeper than you'll let me."
They were quiet for a moment, readjusting.
"Have you always worked at The Lead?" Santana asked quietly.
"Oh, you know," Brittany fiddled with her pen, "I had a few odd jobs, writing up small bits and pieces for a few bigger or smaller publications. When I landed a gig at The Lead everything just fit so perfectly, I love it there."
Santana glanced up from her work to look at the woman next to her, a soft but well placed jealousy in her eyes, "That's great that you love your job. Your boss seems like a level headed woman."
"She is," Brittany agreed wondering what exactly Santana could be capable of if she could focus more of her energy on her work and not of making people think she was worth her title.
"Do you have a favorite article that you've written?"
"Um..." Brittany thought about it, "I don't know, there was this piece I did, when I was first starting out, about a mom and pop bakery in the city. It was going out of business because a Starbucks opened up two lots down the block."
Santana listened carefully, wanting to memorize her words, every detail she could about the blonde.
"After it published," Brittany's smile drew Santana's eyes, "there was like, this rally, a sort of protest against the Starbucks. People stood outside it and waived signs, and completely poached business away from them to direct it all to the bakery."
"Did they still go out of business?"
"No, they actually opened another store on the other side of town."
Santana could hear the pride in her voice.
"Look at you," she teased lightly, "taking a stand against commercialism and all that."
A rosy flush spread over Brittany's cheeks, "I wasn't—that wasn't the angle of my piece, I was focused more on the people, the family, and like, how sad it was that they were losing their business. Rallies against Starbucks were the last thing on my mind."
"And yet that's exactly what happened," Santana chuckled, "because of your words."
Brittany didn't think anyone had ever put so much stock in her writing. Made her feel so important, so accomplished. A part of her heart ached, because she had never felt something like this, and if only Artie could have taken her as seriously as Santana seemed to.
She was still kind of torn up about Artie. It wasn't a crippling depression, or a new found hatred of love, but... when she got home from hanging out with Rachel and the girls, to her empty house, everything felt a little darker. She was alone again, and while she's perfectly capable of living that way, she still didn't like it.
"You can pick it up if you want."
Santana didn't look up from her work when she said it but Brittany flushed anyway, blinking up from the circuit board in front of her.
"I don't want to break it," Brittany mumbled softly, glancing at the small device on the table.
It was something Santana had set aside after removing it from the body of the tablet. She had been clasping her hands together on her lap, or around her notebook, so she could resist touching any of the mechanics around her. Ever since sitting down, she had wanted to rummage through all the drawers, open all of the cabinets, turn all of the switches. Her curiosity was driving her insane.
"You're not going to break it," Santana laughed, sending the blonde a dubious look. There was a lightness in her eyes that Brittany hadn't seen before. "Just don't drop anything and you'll be fine, even then, everything is replaceable."
Brittany glanced around at the desktops filled with parts, bits, things. Objects that had so many different names, things that were nothing special on their own but combined they could be a functioning device.
"I don't know..."
She realized that this is what Santana comes to work for, the moments that she can just work in her element without the Face of Clockwork bearing down on her. She hardly looked like a corporate symbol anyway, with her blazer discarded over the back of her abandoned chair, her shirtsleeves rolled up to her elbows. She hadn't even bothered with her contacts this morning. Brittany loved her glasses.
Santana used the screwdriver in her hand to push the circuit board closer to Brittany, a playful smirk on her face, "Come on Brittany, I promise you won't break it."
Brittany hesitated for just a moment, before bringing her arm up and resting her hand on the table next to the device. She didn't want to touch it quite yet.
"You act like you've never seen any of this stuff before," Santana quirked an eyebrow, "doesn't Abrams have a workshop?"
Her finger, that had been hovering towards the metal, shrunk back at the mention of her ex-boyfriend.
"I was never allowed inside."
Santana's hands stilled, and even though she wasn't facing her, Brittany could see the frown clear in her profile.
"He's an ass."
Brittany wanted to ask what was between them, why they held such an animosity towards each other, but she was scared to. She had already lost Artie because he didn't want to tell the truth, she wasn't ready for Santana to lie to her too.
"That explains a few things."
Brittany looked up, cautiously asking, "What do you mean?"
Santana blushed, licking her lips nervously, "Just that, I didn't understand how you can date him and, you know, not pick up on a few things about the industry. Look at Quinn, she's in public relations but she's spent so much time around me that she knows enough to spot a bullshitter at a convention."
She felt a little put out, because it was true, she didn't know anything about the business Artie and Santana shared. Artie had never thought it was worth explaining to her, maybe he thought she was too stupid to understand it.
No matter what the reason, she felt dejected, and it probably showed on her face because Santana was quick to say, "Don't take it personally, from what I've seen of you, you're picking up on stuff that people have to take college classes for. I'm sure if you're not learning anything about tech from Abrams, it's not for a lack of trying, he's probably just to impatient to give the time of day."
Santana knew it probably wasn't the best idea to insult her boyfriend, but she didn't care. After a second of watching Brittany mull over her words, she reached out and slid the circuit board just a little closer to the blonde's pale fingers.
It was a small gesture but the smile on Brittany's face was enough to make it feel like she had done something right in the world. An uncontrollable sense of pride washed through her.
She watched Brittany finger the small green and sliver mental. The tips of her fingers brushing over the small bits and pieces, the groves and the nobs.
"It looks like a little city right?"
Brittany looked up to Santana's face, a part of her expecting to see the same condescending look on her face that Artie had sported in his office, but it wasn't there, if anything Santana looked a little embarrassed.
"That's the first thing I thought when I first ripped one of these things apart," she looked back to the gutted tablet in her hands, "here let me show you."
She put down her work, and moved her stool over to Brittany.
"This is a circuit board," she gestured to the object in the blonde's hands. "The biggest one in the machine is called the motherboard. They hold information for the computer, they're like a computer's brain."
Brittany's smiled became a little more genuine, and she sent Santana a thankful look.
"This is the computer," she said almost lovingly, "without this, it's just a bunch of metal parts. Electricity travels down these little silver lines like highways," her fingers trailed the device in Brittany's hands, her shoulder brushing the blonde's lightly, "this part holds memory, this part is the CPU, it processes information, then all the information is sent to..."
Brittany listened to the words, she connected them with whatever Santana was pointing out at the time. She made sure to focus as best she could, taking in as much as she could. She wanted to be worthy of Santana's time. To be worth spoken to in this caring and patient manner.
A small hint of citrus floated into her senses.
"Here check this out," Santana shifted back in her stool, reaching into her the pocket of her slacks to pull out her phone. She pried off it's cover and used a screw driver to pop out the battery, reviling a small circuit board. "Even our phones have them."
"I didn't know that," Brittany breathed as the soft scent dissipated into the air. She wondered what kind of shampoo Santana used.
"You'll pick it up as you spend more time around the techs up at Clockwork," Santana set the phone down and picked up her work again, "and you know, if you have a question, just ask."
"I have so many questions," Brittany set the circuit board down and picked up a fan box, spinning the blade absently. "But I don't want to take your time..."
"Brittany," Santana met her eyes, "You could never be a waste of my time."
They were both a little startled when the door to the lab opened, Santana regained her composure a little faster, already on edge for her coworkers.
"The nerve of you people," the voice, shadowed in a silhouette from the bright hallway lights, rambled on in a distinctly annoyed tone, "my first day back and I find the office empty! No one has seen you all day, you're not picking up your phone, for all I know you're in a ditch on the side of the highway, or hell, finally snapped and quit. Goodness knows you can't keep your temper in check without me."
By this time, the slim and fashionable figure came into view as the door slid closed behind him. His eyes were slanted in annoyance, but kept shifting curiously to Brittany.
"Oh, it's you," Santana gave a glance and went right back to her work, seemingly unfazed but the man's entrance, "I thought I had fired your ass."
"Ha, I'd like to see you run a convention without me," he scoffed, "I'd like to see what you would wear to a convention without me."
"Quinn has been doing just fine," Santana narrowed her eyes in her friend's defense.
Brittany wasn't sure if she meant running the conventions or Santana's fashion sense.
"Yeah?" he crossed his arms, unbelieving, "so how come your photo shoot is scheduled with Marcus?"
Santana frowned, "It better not be, she said she requested Tina."
"She can request the Queen of England for all I care," he brushed his sideswiped bangs out of his face, "but I'm the only one that can make it happen."
"So it's Tina then," Santana needed to make sure.
"Of course."
"I knew I kept you around for something," Santana smirked, "but we're being rude, Kurt, this is Brittany Pierce."
"You must be the reporter I've heard so much about," he leaned across the desk to shake the woman's hand, "Kurt Hummel, Santana's assistant, and fashion sense."
"It's nice to meet you. I hear you pick out what she wears to conventions and photo shoots?" Brittany asked curiously, eying the brunette next to her who was trying to pretend she wasn't embarrassed.
"I do, her body is my bronze canvas," he smirked, always enjoying an opportunity to pick on the Latina.
"I'm a huge fan of your work," Brittany smiled slyly as Santana adjusted her glasses, trying to hide a blush.
"Is that your phone?"
Santana and Brittany both looked at the gutted PDA and then each other, a grin spreading over their faces in unison.
"Yeah," Santana shrugged like it was no big deal, not bothering trying to hide her smile, "I needed to show Brittany something."
"You needed to show Brittany the inside of your phone? That's the reason I haven't been able to get a hold of you?"
"It was very informative," Brittany smiled, barely holding in a giggle. "Totally worth it."
"Right," he glanced between the two of them, "anyway, I hate to break up this little session, but Santana, you know the floor board meeting is going to hit off in about an hour."
"I know that?" Santana raised an eyebrow, she really just didn't want to leave this little sanctuary with Brittany. "I don't think I do. You see, my assistant has been out for the past few weeks, and my phone broke this morning, I must have missed the memo."
Kurt rolled his eyes, "Really? Look, the more of these meetings you miss, the more chances they have of angling against you."
Santana's brow furrowed, he was right, she needed to stay on top of things around Clockwork. That Maxim thing had gotten too close, she needed to start paying more attention to the things going on beyond the IT Department.
"Fine," she set down her tools and Brittany watched her start to pack up.
She paid close attention so she would be able to help next time around. As Santana finished the last of her cleaning, she grabbed her blazer and started to throw it on. She paused, when it snagged on something.
The breath caught in her throat, when she found Brittany's pale fingers around the material. She tried to stay calm, keep the ridiculous heat off of her cheeks. She lifted a single eyebrow to ask the obvious question.
"You need to fix your shirtsleeves," Brittany explained quietly, eyes shifting to the rolls at her elbows, "if you keep it like that for too long your cuffs with lose their shape."
Brittany released her hold on Santana's jacket, flushing under their scrutiny, "you want to look sharp for your meeting, right?"
"A woman after my own heart," Kurt smiled, gesturing for Santana to start following her directions. The Latina did so, with a displeased look on her face.
"Don't pout," Brittany whispered as they walked around the workstation to follow Kurt out of the room.
Santana blushed, rolling her eyes as she worked on her other sleeve, "I'm not pouting."
"Okay," Brittany chuckled softly.
They stopped in Santana's office so she could gather her things for the meeting and check up on some emails. She took the comfortable spot behind her desk as the others took a seat on the couch.
"How's your father Kurt?"
He sighed, his smile fading slightly, "Better, but once you have a couple of heart attacks, there's no coming back form it. Just a matter of time."
"I'm sorry about that... and if you get too depressing I'll have to kick you out of here," Santana met his eyes and they had an understanding. "You know I can't deal with that sentimental crap."
"Good to know, I can't deal with your lovely personality for too long anyway," he smirked and patted Brittany's knee when he found her frowning at Santana. "Oh, don't worry honey, that's just her way of saying that I can have more time off if I need it."
"Oh," Brittany flushed lightly.
"She tries to act tough and heartless—"
"Kurt," Santana cut him off before he could start making her blush again. "I have a job for you."
"What might that be, your majesty?" he stood up and meandered over to her desk.
"I have to go to that stupid meeting, its corporate company stuff so Brittany can't sit in on it, security reasons," Santana stood and offered the blonde an apologetic smile, "I'd like you to see what you can do about getting her a desk so she has somewhere to work and whatever else she needs, desk top, printer, paper, pens. Show her around or whatever, I'll see you both before lunch."
"Your will shall be done," Kurt looked around the office, already thinking about how he could rearrange it. "I'll take care of her, Santana."
"Thanks," she turned to Brittany, "See you later."
"Bye," Brittany was a little sad that she wouldn't be allowed to follow as she watched the brunette leave. When the door slide closed she turned to Kurt, "I don't really need a desk or anything."
"Nonsense," he waved his hand dismissively. "Let her fuss over you. She likes taking care of people, so let her."
"Why does she pretend she's mean then?"
"She has to be mean in this business," Kurt shrugged. "No one takes her seriously when she's a bitch, why would they take her seriously if she showed that she had a heart?"
"I don't know how she does it," Brittany sighed sadly.
"That's what you're here to find out, right?" Kurt teased, "come on, let's go down to supply and see what we can find."
