Hello :) As always, thank you so so much for all the reviews/favourites/follows :)
Also a special thank you to ohvalerievalerie at Tumblr who made the most perfect amazing wonderful fic poster for Paperweight. Go check it out now /post/43564895840/ :)
This was supposed to be way longer, but since this has already broken 10k, I shall just split the chapter into two. The next update isn't going to be until maybe Monday at the earliest, as I have birthday celebrations to attend on Friday and Saturday, and then I am working on Sunday. The joys lol.
Also, I know the beginning of this chapter is confusing, but Santana explains everything later on :)
-insert usual shout out to justsomebrittanagleek and Never Knew I Needed being flawless as always- Seriously, if you're not reading that, you should be.
Anyway, I'll shut up now, hope you enjoy :) Feel free to leave me a review if you're feeling kind :P
CHAPTER EIGHT
Wednesday morning, Santana wakes up at 7am, as usual, and by 7.05am, just like every October 7th for the past eleven years, she's in a foul mood. She drags herself out of bed and walks into the kitchen to find Quinn to take her anger out on, but the apartment is quiet. Clearly Quinn didn't bother coming back home last night, after rushing out the door at 10pm, saying something about an emergency at Rachel's, see you tomorrow, love you!
She grumbles to herself, and opens the refrigerator, pulling out some of Rachel's vegan pancakes. Not that she'll ever admit it, but they're good. Like, maybe even better than the regular pancakes Quinn buys and then she eats.
/
She's in the shower when the tears come. Santana's fucking glad Quinn isn't here as she has practically breaks down, sliding down against the wall onto the white tiles. The water's cold by the time she manages to stop.
Wrapping herself in a towel, she glares at herself in the mirror, and steels herself for her yearly day of pretending she's okay.
/
Santana is stood outside the front door of the studio, usual Starbucks in one hand, her phone in the other, replying to a particularly graphic text from Puck, when she sees them. She pauses, mid-type of the word vagina, and glares daggers through the glass door.
Brittany is stood on the other side of the glass, sitting on the receptionist's desk, impossibly long legs on show, with her head thrown back laughing adorably at something. However, when Santana walked out ten minutes earlier, she was having a discussion with Kitty about something called a Lord Tubbington. Now, she's talking to a beefy looking delivery boy, and judging from the smug smirk on the douchebag's face, he's probably flirting with her. And it looks like Brittany is going along with it.
Santana feels the misguided anger build up inside her until she can't control it, and she's storming through the front door of the studio before she realizes what she's doing. Kitty sees her first, and she looks slightly terrified as Santana marches up to the desk, turning her cold glare onto the delivery boy.
"Can I help you with something?" Santana growls at him, interrupting Brittany mid-sentence. He looks down his nose at her, and she can feel Brittany's gaze burning into the side of her head.
The delivery boy – Hunter, according to his name badge – buffs out his chest and smirks at Brittany again before turning his attention to Santana.
"I have a delivery for a Quinn Fabray?" He motions to a large cardboard box sitting beside the desk.
"I'm Quinn. I'll get someone to take it up. You can leave now." Santana continues glaring at him, but apparently the idiot in front of her is not getting the hint, because he doesn't move.
"Can I see some ID please?"
Jesus Christ.
"Listen doucheface, now would be a very good time to turn around, and waddle your way back out the doors of my studio."
It's not even her best threat, but he finally seems to get the hint and starts to shift nervously.
"Sorry, but I can't hand them over without proof of indetification."
Santana is about to unleash a Lima Heights worthy rant on him, when the front door swings open, and the actual Quinn comes strolling through, looking far too happy for 10am on a Wednesday morning.
"Have you been with Berry all night? What the fuck took you so long to get here?" She snaps at Quinn, who just rolls her eyes and stops in front of the desk. Hunter's jaw is hanging open, and Santana almost laughs when she realizes he is surrounded by three hot blondes and herself. Every straight guy or lesbian's dream. Then she remembers the way he was looking at Brittany like she was a piece of meat and the irrational anger flares back up.
"Actually, spare me the details of your love fest with the hobbit, this boyband reject says he has some delivery for you." She flaps a hand in Hunter's general direction, then turns to stomp moodily towards the elevator. She gets halfway there when a hand on her arm stops her.
She tries to keep her face impassive as she turns to meet Brittany's gaze.
"That was incredibly rude, Santana."
Santana huffs, and rolls her eyes dramatically. "Yeah well, he was being an asshole. All he had to do was leave the box with Kitty and then he could skip his merry way back to Neverland."
"How was he being an asshole? He didn't do anything wrong."
"He was looking at you like a piece of meat Britt, how is that not wrong?" Santana scoffs.
"He's a guy Santana, they're mostly pigs, but unfortunately that's what they do. He wasn't saying or doing anything inappropriate, he was just... Appreciating. There's nothing wrong with that, everyone does it."
"Well he shouldn't be appreciating you!" Santana snaps, instantly wishing she could take the words back. She watches Brittany's face go from shocked, to confused, to irritated.
"Why not?"
Santana doesn't have an answer.
"Huh? Why shouldn't he, Santana?" Santana stays quiet. Brittany laughs, defeated. "You sound like a jealous girlfriend Santana. If this is about Saturday, you were the one that said it meant nothing, so why are you-"
"Jesus Christ Brittany, not everything in the world revolves around you! Fucking hell, just let it go!" Santana knows she's gone too far – again – when Brittany's mouth snaps shut, and her bottom lip trembles slightly. Santana shuts her eyes, wishing for the floor to open up and swallow her whole, and when she reopens them, Brittany's glossy eyes don't meet hers.
"Britt, I- Shit, I didn't mean-"
"It's fine, Santana." Before Santana can protest, Brittany is walking away from her, towards the stairs.
Santana groans. She's certainly on fine bitch form today. Fucking October 7th.
/
Santana holes herself up in her office for almost the entire rest of the day, claiming a fuckload of paperwork to do. Tina comes in once or twice to discuss a few design issues, but aside from that, she's mostly left alone.
Until 5.30pm, when her door flies open and Quinn comes storming in. Setting her hands on the table and glaring at Santana, she opens her mouth to speak. "I don't know what the hell you did or said to Brittany, and frankly I don't care. I assume you were your usual charming self for whatever reason, but whatever you did, fix it, Santana. One of my best photographers has been miserable the entire damn day because of you, and this is a shoot that needs a good atmosphere."
"Fine, whatever, I'll apologize." Santana ignores Quinn, focusing on the papers in front of her. That is, until Quinn's hand grabs her chin and forces her to look up.
"I'm serious Santana. Whatever you did, fix it."
"Fucks sake, I will Fabray, calm your tits." Santana jerks out of Quinn's hold, glaring up at her best friend.
Quinn studies her for a second, her weird piercing gaze boring into Santana's. "What the hell is wrong with you today? I mean, yeah you're usually a bitch, but this is a little extreme, even for you."
"Look at a fucking calendar, Fabray." Santana returns her eyes to her desk, refusing to look at Quinn. If she saw the pity in Quinn's eyes she'd probably start crying again.
"You sent me out to buy you tampons last week Santana. I know it's not your damn period."
"Of course it's not my damn period Fabray, it's October the fucking seventh! You know, the wonderful day when my Dad decided to just up and leave us!" Santana shouts, standing up and whirling dramatically round, trying to force down the tears she can feel pricking at her eyes.
Quinn goes silent behind her, and she hopes the door is closed. The less people that heard that little outburst the better.
"I didn't- Santana, I'm sorry, I forgot what date it was."
Santana half-heartedly shrugs her shoulders and clears her throat, trying to get the upset tone out of it. "Yeah well, you've practically been shacking up with Berry and Lady Hummel since Finnept left the gay picture, so... Whatever. I'm fine, I can deal on my own."
"No you can't." Quinn says softly behind her. Santana doesn't answer.
Santana can hear Quinn slowly crossing the room until she's right behind her. "I'm sorry. I've been a pretty crappy best friend. Just stuff with Rachel, uh, Finn leaving was kinda hard on her."
"Yeah well my Dad leaving when I was 13 was kinda hard on me as well Quinn." Santana snaps, and immediately regrets it. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be such a bitch... At least not this much."
Quinn chuckles behind her. Santana slowly turns around to look at her best friend's concerned face.
"I just- You'd think it'd get easier you know? Over time? But it doesn't." Santana smiles sadly. "It really doesn't."
She sucks in her lips and tries to hold back the tears. But then Quinn, fucking Quinn, opens her arms and just says. "I know, Santana."
Santana falls into Quinn, wrapping her arms around her waist as she sobs into Quinn's shoulder. She whimpers, burying her head into the neck in front of her as Quinn gently rubs up and down her back.
Quinn's gently murmuring I know over and over again, and with most people, they'd probably just be saying that to try to console her. Quinn at least actually geniunely does know. Quinn's mom divorced Quinn's cheating dickbag of a father the end of their sophomore year of high school, and Santana had been the one there for Quinn when the blond showed up at Santana's doorstep two days after, with a bottle of tequila in one hand, a pint of ice cream in the other, and mascara streaked down her face.
99 per cent of the year their friendship might be based on insults and rudely calling each other out on their shit, but on October 7th and June 18th every year, they're always a shoulder for the other to cry on.
Santana pulls back with a sniff once her tears subside, and Quinn plucks a tissue from the desk and hands it to her.
"You look like a panda. Ever heard of waterproof mascara?" Quinn laughs, peering at Santana's face.
"I bought some, but then a certain bitch I live with fucking used it all." Santana jabs weakly, smiling as she wipes at her eyes with the tissue.
Quinn just laughs again, and gives Santana another hug.
Despite how fucking awful her October 7ths usually start out, Quinn usually manages to make them bearable by the end of the day.
/
Santana pushes open the door to the roof, stepping out into the evening air. She's wearing Brittany's hoodie beneath her coat and has a scarf wrapped around her neck, and she's holding a normal coffee in one hand, and a vanilla and hazelnut latte with whipped cream in the other, and she still fucking shivers. Fucking New York.
"Good God, it's cold." Kurt points out the obvious beside her.
"Really? I hadn't noticed." Santana states dryly, rolling her eyes as Kurt catches sight of Sebastian and waves maniacally.
"Rebound going well then? Blaine must be heartbroken." She says, and Kurt just flips her off as he skips over to Sebastian.
The photoshoot that had been taking place earlier in the sunny afternoon is almost finished clearing up. Sugar and Sebastian are sitting gossiping beside the make up booth, where Kurt joins them, and Sam and Rory are helping take the massive spotlights down.
She looks around the chaos of the rooftop shoot before she spies who she's actually looking for. Brittany is standing next to Unique and, for some odd reason, Ryder. Saying hello to Sebastian and Sugar as she walks past them, she slowly slides up next to Brittany, smiling at the three of them.
Unique says hello in her usual flamboyant way, Ryder beams at her, and Brittany glances at the two coffees, before a tiny smile slowly works its way onto her lips. Score.
Santana makes a mental note to tip Ryder at some point, because he interrupts whatever Unique's talking, saying they'll be late for dinner unless they leave then. The two of them stroll off arm in arm, leaving Santana alone with Brittany.
Like, literally alone. Everyone else has fucked off, so it's just them on the rooftop. How romantic.
"Hey." Santana thinks a greeting might be a good icebreaker. "I got you coffee." She thrusts the hand holding the latte towards Brittany. Who can say no to coffee?
Apparently Brittany, who just raises her eyebrows and glances briefly at the profered cup, before looking back at Santana.
Christ.
"Look, I'm really no fucking good at this, but I'm sorry Britt. For being such a total raging bitch earlier."
"Okay." Brittany says brightly, liberating the cup from Santana and taking a sip.
"Okay?" Santana asks in disbelief. That can't just be it, can it?
"Okay." Brittany repeats. "You said sorry, so I forgive you. Okay."
Brittany laughs at Santana's confused expression. "From what I hear, getting an apology from Santana Lopez is a pretty difficult task. So I figure when you say you're sorry, but like, not sarcastically, you really mean it." Brittany smiles.
Santana laughs, taking a drink of her own coffee. "Of course I meant it Britt. Just, bad day, is all."
"Are you okay now?"
"I am now." It slips out before Santana can stop it, but the shy smile and following blush that spread across Brittany's face makes her not really care.
Santana turns around and walks towards the make up desk. Shoving the huge amount of make up out the way, she hops up onto it, swinging her legs slightly as she gestures for Brittany to join her. The blond is only wearing a thin tshirt, and Santana can see the goosebumps that appear on her arm.
She likes to think they're more due to being in Santana's presence than the cold, but they're supposed to be friends, and thoughts like that are not going help cement that notion.
She places her coffee cup down next to her and unbuttons her coat, tugging off and placing it around Brittany's shoulders. The affectionate look Brittany sends her in return causes her heart to start thumping madly in her chest. As usual. Until-
"Is that my hoodie?" Brittany questions, raising her eyebrow at Santana's choice of clothing.
"Um..." Santana feels her face heat up, Brittany's smirk is not helping. "It's warm. And you never asked for it back. Shut up." She giggles, taking another sip of coffee to distract herself from brittany.
"I don't mind. It looks better on you anyway."
"I highly doubt that." Santana wonders if this coffee is laced with something that's making her blurt stuff out without thinking.
Brittany just smiles softly again, and there's a few minutes of comfortable silence, until she speaks. "So, who was your first kiss?"
"Pardon?" Santana shoots a glance at Brittany, confused as to where this is going.
"Well, we're here, and I don't want to go yet, and obviously you don't either cause you're still here, so let's play the question game." Brittany excitedly explains. "So, first kiss. Go."
"Tyler Mills in eighth grade. You?"
"Steven Adams in seventh. First pet?"
They continue like this for a while, firing ridiculous questions at each other until Brittany treads too close to something Santana is not comfortable talking about. "What's your coming out story?"
She doesn't answer, taking a gulp of her now lukewarm coffee instead.
"Sorry." Brittany says quietly. "You don't have to answer-"
"Rachel was actually the first person I told."
"Rachel?"
"Rachel Berry, as in Broadway Rachel Berry. She was there the night of the Hollidaze deal?"
"You mean the night I basically groped you on the dancefloor?" Well Brittany is certainly blunt.
"Yes Britt, that would be the night." She laughs, taking another drink of coffee. Brittany nudges her slightly, prompting her to continue.
"I mean I always knew I liked girls, since I was old enough to like, know what it was to be attracted to someone. Like probably every other lesbian, I thought it'd pass, you know, it was just a phase or whatever, but of course, it didn't. Then at some party the summer between sophomore and junior year, I got dared to do seven minutes in heaven with this cheerleader. Her name was Emily, she was a senior, and she was hot as fuck."
Brittany giggles next to her, and Santana thinks she shifts slightly closer. October in New York is cold. Santana's not going to complain.
"So yeah, after we made out, I was kinda like, shit I think I might be gay, and pretty much went into full gay panic mode. I slept with Puck so many times, basically trying to convince myself I was straight."
Brittany's definitely shifting closer to her. Santana gulps.
"Then when I was in junior year, I met this girl called Spencer." She gulps again, trying to keep the hurt out of her voice. "She transferred over from Lima High School, and she joined the Cheerios, our cheerleading team. Long story short, we started dating in secret, and Rachel somehow just knew. She's got two dads, maybe she's got some kind of straight girl gaydar or something."
She pauses to take another sip of her coffee, which is pretty much cold now, so after she sets it down next to her on the table.
"She cornered me after Glee Club, like our show choir group thing, one day and started going on about how much everyone would still love me, and how no one would see me any differently and all that crap. I mean I didn't actually have a clue what she was jabbering about, but then she said something about Spencer and it clicked. And I kinda just blurted it out, like, I'm gay, Rachel."
"What did she say?"
"She asked if she could sing a k.d. Lang song in the next Glee meeting. I probably told her to fuck off and not tell anyone in some particularly colorful way."
Brittany laughs again, and now Santana is sure Brittany has been sneaking closer, because her right thigh is pressed against Brittany's now, and she can feel Brittany's body moving when she laughs. Fantastic.
"What happened with you and Spencer?" As much as she likes Brittany, she is still not okay sharing that particular part of her history with anyone, even Quinn.
"We broke up. Who was the first person you came out to?" She asks Brittany, trying to get the focus off of herself.
"Lord Tubbington."
"Okay, what the hell is a Lord Tubbington?" Brittany laughs, and digs around in her jeans pocket, tugging out her phone and unlocking it. She scrolls through her photos, until she lands on one of a giant gray furry... Thing.
"Brittany... What the actual fuck is that?"
"Lord Tubbington. He's my cat. And he's sensitive about his weight, so whatever you were about to say, don't."
Santana looks up to Brittany's smirk and twinkling eyes. "He's, uh..." Santana tries to think of a word to describe the enormous cat without offending it or Brittany and comes up blank. "Never mind. Your cat was the first person, or.. Animal, you came out to?"
"Yep." Brittany replies cheerfully, pocketing her phone again. "I mean I always knew as well, I just didn't know if that was supposed to be normal, but when I told Lord Tubbington that I like guys and girls, he just told me he loved me all the same. Then tried to get me to buy him cigarettes."
Santana chooses not to comment on that last part of Brittany's sentence. "How did your parents take it?" She asks instead.
"Oh they were fine with it. I brought home my first boyfriend when I was 15, and then my first girlfriend a few months later and they didn't care either way. How did yours take it?"
Santana pauses. Her Mom was perfectly fine with it, a little shocked to begin with, but she got over it. Her Abuela was a little harder to convince. She had refused to speak to Santana for months afterwards, but slowly started to come around. Things were still tense between them, but at least she was allowed back for Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners.
She didn't even know if her Dad knew.
"My Mom was fine with it." She eventually settles on. "My Abuela, not so much, but she's coming around."
"What about your Dad?"
Santana shuts her eyes, knowing the stab of pain shooting through her isn't Brittany's fault, but still wishing she hadn't asked that.
What surprises Santana though, is how quickly the pain dulls back down to nothing. Normally whenever she thinks about her Dad, the first sudden jabs of pain fade down to a very present ache somewhere in her chest. But she barely feels it now.
She looks at Brittany, who is looking at her with the most affection and honesty Santana has ever seen directed at her.
She wonders if she can do this a second time today.
"My Dad left when I was 13, actually." Santana says quietly, focusing her attention on her hands sitting in her lap, playing with the zip of the hoodie.
"Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't know." Brittany says softly. Santana shakes her head, it's okay, of course Brittany didn't know.
She's not angry. She doesn't feel like she's about to burst into tears. She doesn't feel the urge to down an entire bottle of vodka.
Santana suspects that this all has something to do with the blond sitting next to her, who's slowly sliding her hand into Santana's lap to tangle their fingers together.
Santana wonders what it is about Brittany that makes her able to trust her so completely, but she thinks she knows already.
She looks up into the most beautiful blue eyes she's ever seen. "If you ever want to talk about it, I've been told I'm good at listening." Brittany smiles softly, squeezing Santana's hand.
Santana takes a deep breath. "It was today, actually. Eleven years ago today. It's kinda why I've been such a delightful person all day."
Brittany doesn't say anything, just runs her thumb gently along the back of Santana's hand, silently prompting her to go on, if she wants.
"I remember him coming home late one day from work, like midnight kinda late. I was supposed to be asleep, but I heard them fighting. My Dad was saying all this shit about how no one would ever love my Mom the way he loved her, that she was better off just staying with him because no one else would ever put up with her. All that wonderful emotionally abusive crap. I managed to block out the rest of the argument, and when I woke up in the morning he was gone. Like, for good."
"Santana..." Brittany trails off, shifting slightly so she's facing her.
"That's the first time I've ever told that story without crying." Santana breathes, mostly to herself. God, what is Brittany doing to her?
"I am pretty awesome." Brittany smiles, ducking down to try to meet Santana's eyes. Santana is completely unprepared for the rush Brittany's concerned gaze gives her.
"Don't look at me like that, Britt." She mumbles, looking over at the skyscrapers to her left.
"Like what?" Brittany's lifted a hand to the back of Santana's neck, gently running her fingers over the base of it.
Santana looks back, and she can't fully meet Brittany's eyes. There's too much affection in them for Santana to handle. "Like you could, I dunno, save me, or something. I don't need saving."
"Well if you did I wouldn't mind being your hero." Brittany replies quietly. Santana's heart starts thumping double time. This is the first time Brittany has made any reference, no matter how small, to having feelings for Santana beyond just wanting to jump her. She forces herself to look into Brittany's eyes. "You'd make a pretty beautiful princess."
It's possibly one of the cheesiest thing anyone has ever said to Santana, but because it's Brittany, she gets away with it. Of course. Then Brittany smirks, and starts to sing.
"Would you dance, if I asked you to dance?" She jumps up off the desk, and holds her hand out to Santana. "Would you run, and never look back?"
"Britt, what are you doing?" Santana can't help but start laughing.
"I'm singing to you Santana. You looked sad and I don't like when people are sad, and even less so when it's you because you're too pretty to be sad. Speaking of being sad, would you cry, if you saw me crying?"
Brittany wiggles her fingers, and Santana's mind tries to nosedive off the building and into the gutter below.
Unable to stop her laughter, she relents to Brittany's pouting and hops off the desk, grabbing ahold of her hand as Brittany sings the last line. "And would you save my soul tonight?"
Brittany wraps her arms around Santana's waist, and Santana is left with no choice but to wraps hers around Brittany's neck. She can feel the entire length of their bodies pressing together, but as Brittany starts bobbing around, dragging her around the rooftop in some strange exaggerated form of a waltz, she knows this isn't sexual. At all.
"I can be your hero baby." Brittany belts out the chorus, slightly off key, which just makes it even more adorable. "I can kiss away the pain." She swoops her face closer to Santana's, who thinks her heart may possibly stop, but then Brittany angles her lips at the last moment and kisses Santana's cheek with a loud smack.
"I will stand by you forever." Brittany slows their dramatic twirling down until they're just standing, swaying in each other arms. Friends totally do this, don't they? Badly sing romantic, mushy love songs to each other while not dancing? Santana hopes so. She'd certainly feel weird doing this with Quinn. And especially with Rachel or Kurt.
Brittany raises her eyebrows, prompting Santana to sing the last line. She fails miserably at not letting her gaze drop briefly to Brittany's lips before gazing back into her eyes. "You can take, my breath away."
Brittany doesn't seem too concerned with singing the rest of the song, and her gaze drops to Santana's lips. Santana can feel their chests moving up and down in tandem, and Brittany probably feels the increase in her heart rate when the blond licks her lips, eyes still fixated on Santana's.
Santana is so close to leaning in and kissing Brittany when the door to the roof bangs open, and the two women leap away from each other.
"There you are. I've been looking for you for ages." Quinn looks slightly annoyed as she walks over to them. She takes in Brittany's slightly flushed face and Santana's refusal to look at her, and narrows her eyes.
"What is-"
"What do you want Quinn?" Santana asks, cutting her off. Quinn looks suspiciously at her again before answering.
"I was looking for you. We're having a movie night. Just you, me, and a Pinot Grigio I borrowed from Kurt. No Rachel."
It doesn't send a thrill through her body like Brittany's method of cheering her up did, but Santana is trying not to compare the two anymore. Quinn is her best friend, and she is always going to be her best friend.
She's not falling in love with Quinn. It's Brittany she's doing that with.
It's Brittany who she's falling in love with, Brittany who's singing to her and dancing like a fool with her just to cheer her up, Brittany who's turning out to be everything Santana has never realized she's wanted.
Well. That doesn't still scare the shit out of her or anything.
Ignoring the traces of fear still lurking in her stomach, she turns to Brittany. "Since Quinn is being her usual rude self, allow me to walk you out." She offers her arm up to Brittany, who giggles heavenly, and loops their arms together. Quinn scoffs loudly, but trails after them.
/
The three of them ride the elevator down, and Santana tries not to smile at how cute Brittany looks in her coat. It's a ridiculous thought that she definitely should not be having, but she likes the way Brittany looks in her clothes. Although she'd probably still think Brittany's gorgeous if she turned up for work one day wearing a garbage bag. She's slightly biased.
Once they leave the studio, and Brittany has hugged them both goodbye and vanished off in a taxi, Quinn turns to Santana. "I didn't know you two were friends."
"I wasn't aware I had to ask your permission to make friends, Fabray."
Quinn rolls her eyes, as they start walking toward the subway. "That's not what I meant. It's just, I've never seen you become such close friends with someone so quickly."
Now it's Santana's turn to roll her eyes. "How the hell did you gather we're close friends from like five minutes of being in our company?"
"Santana I could hear you laughing from the stairwell. If she can make you laugh like that on today of all days, I'd say that counts as a close friend." Quinn smirks at Santana's dumbfounded look, laughing as she descends the steps into the subway station.
It's then that Santana realizes she's barely thought about her pathetic excuse for a father since Brittany showed up. Nobody has ever been able to distract her sufficiently enough to forget about him altogether.
Just another reason to fall that little bit more in love with Brittany.
Quinn is right, Santana guesses she classes Brittany as a close friend. Anyone who knows about her Dad and Spencer, even the bare minimum, would probably count as a close friend.
It's a shame she doesn't want to be just Brittany's friend.
/
A few hours later, when Santana and Quinn are cuddled up on Quinn's bed, surrounded by the contents of their junk food cupboard, and picking apart the flaws in Pitch Perfect, Santana decides to broach the subject that's been on her mind ever since she noticed the fresh hickey on Quinn's neck.
She probably wouldn't have noticed, as it's hidden under a layer of make up, but she'd rested her head on Quinn's shoulder a few minutes ago, and basically been eye level with it.
"Are you dating anyone?" Well that was smooth. Quinn slowly turns her head to stare at Santana.
"What?"
Santana backtracks quickly. "Look, you've got a massive love bite on your neck that you did a shitty job covering up, plus there was that one that you refused to talk about last month, and you've been, I dunno, like, weirdly happy the past few weeks. All that kinda points to you finally getting some. So yeah, are you dating anyone?"
Quinn just continues to stare at her, slowly chewing the piece of popcorn in her mouth. "Don't you think I would have told you if I was dating anyone?" She says. Except the way she says it, Santana doesn't quite believe her. She sounds too rehearsed, too calculated, too Quinn, even for Quinn. That didn't even make sense, Santana thinks to herself.
"Well are you?" Santana asks, stuffing an entire Dorito in her mouth to try and act disinterested. She's actually very interested. She wonders if the Mystery Love Biter is the same person for each one. Quinn's not really one to sleep around, and she's definitely not the type to do some kind of no strings attached arrangement. But if she is seeing someone, why would she keep it from Santana?
"No, I'm not." Quinn eventually says, but she doesn't look Santana in the eye. She pauses. "But I do like someone."
Well. Santana is not expecting that.
"You do? Who is he? Do I know him? Oh God it's not Finn again is it?" Santana fires a barrage of questions at her, determined to find out who Mystery Love Biter's real identity is.
She's about to start reeling off every guy they both know when Quinn laughs abruptly and stares back at the screen, grabbing another handful of popcorn. "No, it's definitely not Finn. God Santana, I have some class."
"Who is it?"
"I'm not telling you Santana. It's early. There's a lot of... Complications."
"What the hell do you mean complications? Does he not like you back or something? Does he have a girlfriend? She's probably hideous."
Quinn laughs again, munching on more of the popcorn. "The feelings are mutual, and there's no extra partners in the mix."
"So why can't you tell me? I'm your best friend you bitch." Santana ignores the small voice in the back of her head telling her that Quinn is none the wiser about the strange flirting limbo she and Brittany have fallen into.
"Santana, when I'm comfortable with this, you will be the first to know, I promise."
Santana doesn't bother to answer, opening a second bag of Doritos instead. She glances at Quinn out the corner of her eye and is about to mock the ridiculous lovestruck look on Quinn's face, when she realizes that's probably how she looks when she thinks or talks about Brittany.
God. Horrifying.
/
Thursday passes in a blur of paperwork and Brittany smiling shyly in Santana's direction, and deliberately brushing against her when they pass each other in the hallway.
Santana doesn't think about her Dad once.
/
Late Friday afternoon, Santana is sat in her office, finishing a call with Holly when the door opens and Brittany slides in, closing it behind her.
She motions for Brittany to hold on for a second, while she repeatedly tells Holly she has to go, and Holly continues yammering on about something. When she finally ends the call, she places the phone back on her desk and looks up expectandly at Brittany.
"Hey Britt, what's-"
"I think we need to set some earth rules."
Santana has no idea what Brittany is on about. " Earth rules? What?"
"Like general rules. The staff dinner is tonight, Santana." Oh. Ground rules.
"I'm aware Brittany, strangely enough, I'll be there." The side of Santana's lips tug up into a half smirk as Brittany nervously fidgets in front of her. She's never seen the blond nervous before. She's normally so confident in her deliberate flirting with Santana. It's cute.
Brittany looks up from her twiddling thumbs – like she's literally twiddling her thumbs. God can this girl get any more perfect? – and takes a deep breath.
"I know you said it meant nothing, but most of the time people just say something means nothing when it actually does mean something and they just don't want to admit it. Or maybe they can't admit it. But it doesn't really matter if if did mean anything or not, because my dress for tonight is blue. And tight. And strapless. And there will be alcohol..."
Santana is trying to keep up with Brittany's nervous rambling, but her brain pretty much short circuits at tight and strapless.
"Brittany, slow down." Attempting to get her thoughts back into slightly more appropriate territory than what it would be like to get Brittany out of said tight and strapless dress, Santana stands up from her desk and slowly walks over to where Brittany is leaning against the wood of the door. "What are you talking about?"
Brittany's gaze flicks down to Santana's lips briefly, and she tries to take a step back, seemingly forgetting she's already against the door. Santana gulps when she sees Brittany's eyes darken slightly.
"Britt?"
"Last weekend. When you said it meant nothing. Did you mean it?" Brittany asks lowly, not even bothering to try to hide the way her gaze shifts from Santana's eyes to her lips and back again.
She's not even the one essentially backed against a door here, but Santana gulps. "Why?"
"Because saying nothing almost always means that it's not nothing. And there will be alcohol there tonight. And I will be there in a dress. Did I mention it's strapless?"
Santana nods, her eyes trailing along the smooth skin of Brittany's neck and collarbone. Brittany's not bothering to hide her leering, why should she? "You did mention that. Mine is black and lacy and very short."
It suddenly seems very hot inside her office. She blames Brittany. As usual.
She's not exactly sure what they're doing. Heavy flirting, she guesses. Apparently Brittany had seen straight through her it meant nothing bullshit last weekend.
Brittany closes her eyes and licks her lips, and Santana fights the urge to just fling herself at the girl.
Mmm, definitely flirting.
"Maybe we shouldn't get too drunk."
Santana snorts.
"Okay never mind. Let's just try not to look at each other too often. Or for too long."
"I think we both know that's kinda impossible. I'll definitely be breaking that rule." Santana murmurs, inching closer to Brittany. She can smell the faint, familiar perfume coming off the blond and it's starting to drive her insane, thinking about the last time Brittany was this close to her. Thankfully her office is a classier place that Rainbow's restrooms.
Then she catches sight of a pile of paperwork Quinn had gleefully dumped on her desk earlier, with a post it attached, the words To: dumb slut scrawled across it in Quinn's handwriting. And the fucking stuffed crab sitting on the cabinet next to them. Okay, maybe only slightly classier.
"We definitely shouldn't go to the bathroom together." Brittany speaks up again, her gaze fixated firmly on Santana's lips now.
"Definitely not." Santana echoes quietly, watching the way Brittany's eyes darken at her voice. Thank fuck for the year of smoking she had in college, she might die from lung cancer, but at least she'll sound sexy as hell calling Quinn a bitch one last time on her deathbed.
"Or really any enclosed space together." Brittany mumbles, and Santana can tell she's not really focused on talking anymore.
She;s about to think fuck it and just kiss Brittany like they both want her to when there's a hammering on the door.
"Santana, hurry the hell up! We have to go home and get ready."
This is the second time in three days that Quinn fucking Fabray has cockblocked her. She's going to make her death slow and painful. Possibly make Rachel sing at the same time. So slow, painful, and horribly fucking torturous.
Brittany's hands come up to rest on her shoulders as the blond pushes her away, putting a bit more space between them, and lowering the temperature of the room a few degrees.
Brittany smiles at Santana as she turns around, and places her hand on the door handle, before looking back at Santana. "Did I mention the lack of straps?"
Santana chuckles. "Several times actually. Do you think I won't be able to control myself, Miss. Pierce?"
Brittany unashamedly runs her eyes up and down the length of Santana's body. She's only wearing her usual work outfit, a black skirt with a purple blouse, but the look on Brittany's face makes her feel like the sexiest woman in the world.
"It's not you I'm worried about losing control." Brittany giggles at the stunned, and probably turned on look Santana is sure is on her face, and leans forward to whisper hotly in her ear, her breath brushing against Santana's cheek. "I'll see you tonight, Miss Lopez."
And then she's gone, slipping out the door and leaving Santana exceedingly frustrated.
Santana wonders how much Quinn would shout at her if she insisted on a shower when they get home, because the stickiness between her legs is not going away anytime soon.
At least not on its own.
/
"Berry, I do not understand why the fuck you are even here. Somebody explain. Please."
Santana, Quinn and Rachel are all crammed into the bathroom in Santana and Quinn's apartment, all attempting to use the mirror to touch up their make up at the same time. Kurt is in the living room, singing along to the radio as he makes them all drinks.
"Santana, while I am aware that this is a staff dinner, neither Kurt nor Mercedes are part of your department, and yet you aren't questioning their presence."
"Kurt's fucking the French model and we hardly see Wheezy so she's a special exception."
"Kurt and Sebastian? What?" Quinn screeches, unfortunately right into Santana's right ear.
"God you're slow Fabray. Porcelain and Weaselface have been getting it on since Porcelain and Gayface broke up. One hell of a rebound. I mean, Kurt's claiming it's just sex, but let's be real, nobody's going to believe that crap."
She hears Kurt protest in the living room, but chooses to ignore him, going back to addressing Rachel. "Anyway, Mercedes is in town for the weekend, so we want to see her as much as possible, so of course she's invited. But you? I'm slightly at a loss as to why you're here. Don't you have like a convention for small rodents to attend or something? As the host?"
"Santana." Quinn snaps, waving a mascara wand in her direction. How threatening. As harmless as the mascara brush is, Quinn's fucking pointy elbows are pretty lethal. After Santana nearly loses and eye for a third time, she huffs, gives up, and storms out into the living room to get Kurt to do her make up for her.
He prattles on some shit about her pores, and moisturizing properly, but she tunes him out as she tries to imagine what Brittany will look like in her dress tonight. Tight, blue and strapless is a pretty good combination, but it's also a very vague description. There's lots of different shades of blue, lots of different styles and lengths of dresses.
Her own dress is slightly modest for her. The six inch heels she's topping it off with kind of class it down a little, but she doesn't give a fuck. They make her ass and legs look fucking phenomenal, and Santana is in the mood to tease the shit out of Brittany tonight. Brittany has done it to her often enough, it's time Santana gets a litle revenge. She's wearing a black dress that stops about mid thigh, and it's one of those dresses that the boobs upwards and the arms are all sheer lace. She'd perfected her just-fucked, gently tousled hair after a very cold shower, and Kurt is currently applying her eyeshadow, still squawking on about moisturizing.
In short, she looks hot as fuck. If she does say so herself.
The doorbell rings, and one of the two inside the bathroom answers the door. Judging from the shrieks and exclamations of damn girl! Rachel left Quinn and her pointy elbows in the bathroom to open the door.
Mercedes appears in Santana's eyeline just as Kurt finishes up with her eyeshadow. The usual greetings of Satan! and Wheezy! are exchanged, before Santana leaps on Mercedes for a hug.
"How you been girl? Soaking up all that fame in the City of Angels have you? You better not forget about us, bitch."
"Somehow I think you've managed to leave your mark on me Santana." Mercedes laughs, then rolls her eyes when Santana responds with a simple wanky.
The five of them have one or two of the odd concotion Kurt had made, quickly catching up with Mercedes, before calling a cab to drive them to the restaurant.
/
"I cannot believe Breadstix have opened a branch here. This is like all my wildest dreams coming true." Santana proclaims loudly as they walk into the familiar Italian restaurant.
"The Santana I remember's wildest dreams included an entire naked cheerleading team captained by Penelope Cruz and Megan Fox." Mercedes deadpans next to her, as Quinn talks to the door host about their reservation. "You don't mean to tell me someone has actually managed to tame Lima's Ladykiller?"
Santana snorts, and spouts off some ridiculous tale of girls never being able to say no to her. Which while true, it hasn't been recently. The last time Santana had gotten any action beside her own hand and the showerhead was that girl the night of the Hollidaze deal. She doesn't think she could bring herself to have sex with anyone that's not Brittany at this point. How sad. Whipped by a girl she's not even in a relationship with.
The waiter shows them to their table, and they promptly order three bottles of champagne. Santana's seat is facing the door, and as the rest of the staff of Lopez-Fabray Design begin to show up, she's trying not to let her head whip around every time she hears it open, waiting for the woman of her dreams to walk through. She rolls her eyes at herself, thinking shit like woman of her dreams. Clearly she's been spending too much time helping Quinn in the darkroom, the fucking chemicals have gone to her head.
/
Around 7pm, almost everyone is seated at the massive table. There's no sign of Brittany or Sam though. Just as Santana's about to nudge Quinn, who's sitting next to her, to ask if they're still coming, when Quinn's phone buzzes and lights up where it's sitting on the table in between them.
Brittany Pierce
iMessage
Is illuminated against the background of a very drunk Santana, Quinn, Rachel and Kurt. She wishes Quinn would change her fucking background. She looks awful, Berry and Quinn look like a fucking couple and Kurt looks like the awkward gay guy tagging along with three lesbians. Like, a reverse form of hag. They look like the world's worst tribute to TaTu. Making a mental note to call Kurt Hagatha Christie at some point, she disregards Quinn's privacy and swipes at the screen, reading the text that pops up.
Our bathroom ceiling started leaking, so Sam had to call a plum, although I'm not entirely sure what fruit has to do with anything. But we're on our way now, sorry we're late! X
Santana feels her Brittany Smile start to spread across her face, but when Kurt, sitting the other side of her, coughs loudly and nudges her, raising his eyebrow at her, she wipes it off her face quickly. She pointedly ignores Kurt, instead choosing to butt in on Quinn and Rachel's conversation, until he turns back to Sebastian.
She hears the door jingle, and out of half hour habit, she glances over at the door, and her jaw nearly smashes into the table.
Santana's first thought when she sees Brittany isn't really coherent. Her second is that Brittany looks stunning. Sam looks pretty good in his suit and all as he walks in after Brittany, but Santana, being gay as an all male production of Rent, barely notices him. She knows she's staring, and she knows she should probably stop before Quinn or Kurt catch her drooling into her wine glass over her employee, but it's kind of difficult to drag her gaze away from Brittany.
When she and Sam reach the table Santana vaguely hears Mercedes ask Kurt who the cute blond guy is and what team he plays for, and she vaguely hears Brittany apologizing for being late, and then a menu is thrust under her nose, and Kurt's lips are by her ear.
"If I didn't suspect something before, I certainly do now. Try to keep your leering to a minimum San."
His voice shocks her out of her Brittany-haze, and she avoids looking at Brittany, who is now sitting directly opposite her, Sam to her right, instead focusing very intently on the range of pastas Breadstix offers.
"Hey San."
Santana gulps, and hopes she doesn't look as flustered as she feels when she lowers the menu to say hello back to Brittany. She sees, and also feels, Brittany's eyes slide down her face, past her lips, down her neck and onto the lace covered top of her chest. Brittany pouts slightly, presumably at the lack of cleavage the dress shows off, but Santana figures Brittany will enjoy it enough when she stands up.
Santana then spies Quinn's phone still lying next to her, and with Brittany still watching her, she clicks open the phone, and scrolls through Quinn's contacts until she reaches P. Tugging her own phone out of her bag, she quickly copies Brittany's number into the recipient box of her own phone, types out a message, and presses send before she can think about what she's doing.
Brittany's phone buzzes on the other side of the table and she watches, biting her lip nervously as Brittany unlocks her own phone and reads the message Santana just sent her. The faint pink blush that seeps into Brittany's cheeks makes something in Santana's chest feel all warm and fuzzy. She blames the three glasses of champagne she's had for that ridiculous thought.
Her phone buzzes in front of her, and she looks down at her own background, an actually nice photo of her and Quinn.
Britt
iMessage
Is blinking up at her, and she opens the message, reading the single two texts on her Brittany text log, before smiling like a complete idiot.
-You look stunning.
Not as beautiful as you.-
The two women just smile idiotically at each other until the waiter comes to take their order.
/
The first brush against her ankle after the starters are taken away, Santana barely feels. She assumes Kurt's foot accidentally bumped her or something. The second brush is slightly firmer, but she still has no idea what it is, just passes it off as Kurt being fidgety.
When the third brush up the entire length of her bare calf happens as she's mid conversation with Brittany, the smirk that appears on the blond's face just before Santana feels it, tells her that it was definitely not Kurt.
Santana pauses mid-sentence, watching in disbelief as Brittany settles back in her chair, raises a singular eyebrow, and takes a slow sip of her wine. Her eyes bore into Santana's over the rim of the glass as what she now realizes is Brittany's foot slides back down her calf.
She's tempted to locate her phone to text Brittany a fucking tease, but a flurry of waiters reappear with their main courses, and Brittany is suitably distracted from torturing Santana by the giant bowl of shrimp placed in front of her.
Thank God.
/
Of course, once the main courses are finished and cleared away, and they're waiting for dessert, Brittany gets right back to it. She's talking to Sebastian about a photoshoot, and Santana takes the opportunity to have a gulp of her third glass of wine, when Brittany slides her foot back over, brushing against her ankle, before running it lightly up the back of Santana's calf.
The combination of alcohol that's starting to fuzz the edges of her vision and the fact that Brittany has somehow managed to work her up with a few fucking touches from her foot, has made Santana's skin even more sensitive. She nearly chokes on her wine, thankfully managing to gulp it down without spraying it all over Quinn. It's red wine, and Quinn's dress is white. Quinn loves her and all, but the dress is Chanel.
Quinn gives her a weird look, but mostly ignores her and continues listening with rapt attention to whatever Rachel is blabbering on about. Kurt is trying to stifle a snigger next to her, and she kicks him under the table. Ignoring his protests, she stands up, announcing she has to use the restroom. She feels a smug sense of satisfcation at the way Brittany's eyes fall immediately to her barely covered legs, and as she's walking away from the table she deliberately puts an extra sway into her hips.
Just as she reaches the door to the ladies, she turns around to catch Brittany's eye. The look the blond is sending her is enough to make her shiver, even halfway across a very busy restaurant. Then Brittany smirks, and winks at her, and again, even across a fucking crowded restaurant, Brittany still manages to make Santana weak at the knees with a simple look.
Resigning herself to the rest of dinner and the inevitabel trip to Puckerman's afterward in a constant state of arousal, she turns around and spushes the door open.
/
She actually did need to pee, and she's washing her hands at the sink when the door bangs open behind her. She briefly glances up in the mirror to see who it is, and freezes. Of fucking course it would be Brittany. Who else?
Brittany leans against the door, crossing her arms across her chest, and just watches as Santana finishes washing her hands, before reaching for a paper towel to dry them with. She chucks in it in the trash can, and looks up to meet Brittany's stare in the mirror.
"You're breaking our rules, Britt. We can't be alone together in the restroom, or any other enclosed spaces."
Brittany ignores her, and just stares at her a little longer, her dark eyes locked onto Santana's. Good to know Santana wasn't the only one affected by Brittany's little game at the table. Eventually, Brittany pushes off the door and stalks slowly towards Santana, their eye contact in the mirror never breaking.
She stops when she's right behind Santana, her left hand coming down to rest against the countertop, effectively half trapping Santana against it. Santana can feel the heat from the other woman's body start to flood into her own, and she feels herself get a little bit wetter when Brittany brings her right hand up to brush Santana's hair away from her left shoulder.
It's ridiculous, the way Brittany affects her body. She can totally calm her down from a Lima Heights Rage one minute, then work her up into a horny mess the next. Ridiculous.
Brittany shifts slightly closer,moving her right hand down to rest on the countertop, trapping Santana between her body at the sinks. Santana desperately tries to hold back a whimper, but the look in Brittany's eyes makes her think Brittany knows exactly how she's affecting her.
She closes her eyes, afraid of what she'll do – or what she'll say – if she looks into Brittany's any longer.
"You were going to kiss me earlier, weren't you? In your office?"
Santana's eyes fly open again and she stares at Brittany wordlessly, not trusting herself to speak.
Brittany breaks the eye contact, watching herself slowly trace her right pointer finger down Santana's arm. "You could've, you know. It's not like I would have stopped you." Her finger reaches the end of Santana's arm, and she splays her fingers over Santana's, in a strange, backwards sort of hand-hold. She makes eye contact with Santana again. "I wanted you to."
Santana can feel her heartbeat thumping simultaneously in her chest and between her legs, and she wonders how long they've been in the restroom for. Kurt would be getting the wrong idea, if Santana's right about him possibly knowing, and Quinn would probably get suspicious if they were gone for much longer.
"If I'm being honest, Santana, I'd probably have let you do whatever you wanted to me right then." Santana's heart just about stops. Brittany's switched to her left hand, trailing her pointer and middle finger down Santana's arm, slower than the other one.
"And if you're being honest Santana, did you really mean what you said last weekend? That it didn't mean anything?" Santana gulps. She still doesn't trust herself to speak, but she can't lie to Brittany. She slowly shakes her head. Brittany smiles. Like, a genuine, Santana-caused beam, rather than the seductive half smirk she'd been pinning Santana with for most of the evening. Santana isn't sure which one she likes better.
"You know I've thought about it before. You and I." The smirk that places itself back on Brittany's face confirms Santana's silent question of what particular activities they're engaging in during Brittany's, probably very graphic daydreams.
"My favorite one is when you fuck me on your desk."
Jesus Christ, Santana is not expecting that. This time the whimper does make it out of her mouth, and Brittany smirks even more, pressing her body fully against Santana's back. Santana lets out another low groan at the feeling of Brittany's breasts pressing into her back.
Santana's eyes shut, and her head falls back against Brittany's shoulder as the blond gently presses a kiss to the back of Santana's neck, juts above the lace's hem.
"I bet you look so beautiful when you come Santana."
"Mmf, fuck, Britt..." Santana whimpers. She knows her underwear are ruined now, and dessert is going to be slightly uncomfortable.
"I'd make you come so fucking hard. How would you want to do it? Around my fingers? Around my tongue?" Santana just groans in response to Brittany's filthy questions. She doesn't think she's ever been this turned on in her life, and Brittany's barely even touching her, just leaning against her.
"I can never decide which I want more when you're screaming my name, to feel you clenching around my fingers, or to taste you." Brittany continues on in her low whisper, as conversationally as if she's discussing the fucking weather. Weekend forecast: high amounts of sexual frustration, with a 100% chance of getting wet.
Santana groans to try and get awful weather jokes out of her head, and she feels Brittany open her mouth to speak again when there's a knock on the door, and they leap apart a second before a slightly drunk Tina opens the door.
"Hey, there you are. Dessert just got served." Thank fuck for Dom Perignon, otherwise Tina would probably have noticed Santana's labored breathing, and Brittany's flushed face and chest.
Tina leaves, the door swinging shut behind her, and the tension spikes higher in the small room. Thankfully it's not an awkward tension. Just a ridiculously sexual one that Santana could cut with a knife.
"Britt-" Santana finally manages to get out around trying to control her breathing.
Brittany holds a finger up to her lips. "You can't say this is nothing anymore. I didn't believe you last week and I won't believe you now. You can pretend you don't want me, but we both know that's a big lie." Santana wasn't actually going to say that, but she nods anyway, because Brittany is right.
They're probably going to have to have a slightly awkward talk at some point, but for now, the mutual attraction has been acknowledged and that's enough for Santana. She's not entirely sure she's ready to inform Brittany of the small fact that she's falling in love with her.
Brittany turns as if to walk back towards the door, but pauses halfway, before walking back to Santana. Santana thinks she's going to kiss her, but instead Brittany places her lips by her ear and murmurs I bet you'd taste so good, by the way. And the heat that Santana had managed to get out her body is back again at full temperature.
Fantastic.
She watches Brittany slide out the restroom door, and sighs.
Santana's not in love with Brittany. Not yet.
But she could be. She could fall in love with Brittany. It'd be so easy to fall in love with her.
And that's the part that scares the shit out of Santana.
