10. Small Steps Backwards
[Friday december 23:rd, 2011]
Someone had puked in the elevator. It was all over the door, and the carpet.
Who even throws up at seven o'clock in the evening? In a lobby?
I left the smelly, unsolved mystery behind and ran up the stairs two steps at a time. Santana only lived on the second floor, but I was a little breathless when I came to a halt outside her door anyway.
There was a sign on it now, not only stickers. Someone had duct-taped a drawing of five stick figures and written "speak, friend, and enter" below. If Sam hadn't been living with me I would have thought it was him.
"Friend," I told the door, and then knocked three times too for good measure. Maybe I should have said it in elvish, but I always forgot the right word. Plus, the muffled voices and music from inside the door, and the fact that Santana and Amy left dinner just ahead of me made me sure that someone would open, elvish or not.
"It's open," a girl's voice yelled from inside. I pushed the door open, or well, I tried. It wouldn't open fully due to the mountain of outerwear and boots scattered in the narrow hallway. I squeezed through the opening and stepped into the sauna-like apartment. The air was warm, humid and smelled of shampoo and skiboots. I placed my old Nike's carefully on top of the pile and stepped over it.
Santana and Amy sat by a wobbly looking table in the tiny space that doubled as a dining area and living room, playing some card game. The boys were nowhere to be seen.
"Knock-knock," I said and tapped the wall.
"Oh, hi Brittany! I thought it was the boys," Amy said. Santana didn't say anything but she looked up at me and smiled so it didn't really matter.
"Nah, just me. Umm, Santana, there was a free spot in the staff laundry room now so I thought I'd ask if we should get it over with. The laundry I mean."
"What laundry?" Amy asked before Santana had the time to answer.
"Well.. I kinda bribed Rob and Zach to let Santana stay out a little longer on wednesday."
"So that's why they didn't yell at you for being late?" Amy asked Santana who just shrugged.
I felt a little insecure all of a sudden. Amy's a really nice person, but she seems to be to Santana what Quinn is to me – someone who looks out for her and has her back no matter what. What if she was mad I wanted Santana to help with unnecessary work?
"Hey, San.. you don't have to help me if you don't want to.. after all it was my idea," I said and tried to resist the urge to shuffle my feet awkwardly.
She didn't answer right away, instead there was some serious staring contest going on between her and her redheaded bandmate. Just as I started to feel more than a little uncomfortable Santana sent Amy one final glare and stood up.
"Okay, let's," she said. "But we have to find something to carry all their shit in."
She walked around me, into the pantry and rummaged through the few drawers there, muttering under her breath. I felt a cool breeze and then something light and cold hitting my back before falling to the floor with a rustle. I turned just in time to catch two shopping bags that Amy was throwing at me from the balcony.
"I always forget were we put them," Santana sighed behind me.
In the end we had so much stuff to carry that Amy had to help us get everything to the hotel. Both girls had decided to do their own laundry while we were already at it, and I ran past my room and grabbed some of mine too.
When I got to the laundry room at the end of the basement corridor, Santana and Amy was already busy tossing different clothes in different piles. The black mountain of socks, long-johns and assorted underwear was the largest by far. Come to think of it, the second largest pile was also dark colors. Quite the opposite from my clothes. I always have trouble knowing which of my multicolored clothes should go with which when I'm doing laundry. Usually I just give up and put everything together and hope for the best. Santana and Amy were obviously a little more methodical.
"How can there be so much dirty clothes, we've only been here for two weeks," Santana sighed.
"Maybe it looks more because the guys are bigger than you, and their clothes take up more space," I wondered out loud.
"Maybe. Hey, Brittany could you help me get the detergent? I can't reach it."
Someone had pushed it to the far back of an already high shelf, and Santana was balancing dangerously on an upside down laundry basket.
"Yeah, one sec," I said and tossed one of many divorced socks over my shoulder.
-#-#-#-#-
The annoying thing with laundry is the waiting. There's an empty hour to pass, and an hour is too short to get much else done than just hanging out. I figured we would go hangout upstairs or in the staff room or something, but Amy had another idea.
"Can't you show us your place?" She asked when we shut the door behind us.
"Umm, sure. It's not very interesting though. Unless Sam sleepwalks. That's hilarious. But I don't think he's sleeping right now."
"No, I think he's with Zach and Puck somewhere.. they talked about football or Fifa or something earlier," Santana added.
I walked first through the corridor, walking past the stairs and to the familiar door second to the left.
"Welcome to Casa de.. eh.. Quinn, Sam and Brittany," I said with an exaggerated british accent as I ushered them into my room.
"This is so cosy," Amy squealed. I thought cosy was a bit over the top, but it was cleaner than most days, and Sam had spent last night putting up christmas decorations, also known as the christmas tree lights we'd "borrowed" off a tree last New Year's Eve. They were hanging off the curtain rod, covering the room in a warm glow. Some christmas carol was playing on low volume, I guess Quinn had forgotten to turn it off before she left.
"It's nice," Santana mumbled. I wasn't sure if she was discretely acknowledging that she'd been here before or not.
"Well, this is about it," I said, slowly turning around in the middle of the room. "And the bathroom, but that's uninteresting."
Santana walked over to the window and looked out, still being very quiet. She had been very quiet all day. Once more I felt stupid for assuming that we would be okay right away after our sort-of-talk on wednesday.
"Is this a picture of your siblings? They look so much like you." Amy stood on her tiptoes, leaning against my bunk bed, looking at the photos I had pinned to the wall by my bunk.
"Yeah. But they're much older now. Jenny's eighteen now, and Will turned fourteen in november."
"They are really cute. You must miss them a lot. I know I miss my sister."
"I do, but it's alright. To tell you the truth, Jenny and I always fought like crazy until I moved out. We get along much better when we don't see each other every day. And Will is so much younger than I am so we're close in another way."
Amy kept scanning my wall, chuckling now and then – I had covered most of the wall with photos over the last few weeks so it took some time. I turned to look at Santana instead. She was still looking out the window.
One of my friends in high school told me once that "when you think somebody's gorgeous when they're wearing old sweats and t-shirts that are so soft they're almost falling apart, you know you're in trouble".
I'm not sure if I should trust the words of a girl who fell in and out of love with a new person every week for most of the years we hung out, but I really liked the sight of Santana in sweats and a plain, white t-shirt. Like someone dresses at home, when the clothes you wear don't matter.
Denying it was just stupid – I could easily picture Santana and I at a breakfast table somewhere in distant future, and that didn't happen to me very often.
Everything about her looked so soft. Maybe it was the light, but I really wanted to touch her, to tuck the stray lock of hair that had escaped her ponytail behind her ear. Not friend-behavior at all, I know, and she had said what she wanted and I had to respect that. Even if it sucked. Even if my brain kept leaping amok whenever I saw her, or thought of her. I just had to ignore the itching in my fingertips and don't care about the way my heart slowed or sped up whenever I was around her.
Being around her was better than nothing.
"What does Quinn say about this picture, huh, Brittany?" Amy's voice dragged me back to present day. I didn't have to look to know which photo she was referring to. Quinn was rarely drunk out of her mind, but when it finally happened, I made sure that I had evidence. Just because I was the wild one nine times out of ten didn't mean I had no right to taunt her sometimes.
"She says that it's good that people rarely care about what I decorate walls with," I giggled. "Don't tell her you saw it, it'll lose it's blackmailing purposes."
No, honestly. I would never put a photo of my best friend drunk off her ass accepting a challenge to drink beer out of a shoe (not her shoe, Puck's shoe) where a lot of people could find it. But I joked about doing it sometimes, and Quinn always got a little unsure about how serious I was.
"Wait, what's.. is it.. is this you, Santana?"
An innocent question, and everything froze.
Shit.
I hadn't even thought about it. That picture, the first one I put up when I got back here, right next to my headboard. A tiny printout the size of a polaroid that I woke up to every morning. Shit.
The second Amy said her name, Santana turned around and looked right at me.
I tried to read her but I couldn't. I knew I was blushing even though a part of me knew it was ridiculous to be ashamed. She was the one who gave me the photo in the first place. But maybe it wasn't for just anyone to see.. no matter how innocent it looked.
It meant a lot. To her too, that much I could tell from the anxious look on her face.
"Ye, yeah.. yes it is Santana," I stuttered in her place.
"When did you guys take this?" Amy wasn't on to something, she only sounded curious. She was still studying my wall and had apparently not caught the awkward tension that had settled in most of the room.
Santana was dead silent, and I didn't dare to say anything. I had no idea if or how much Amy knew.
Dark eyes fluttered from mine, to the floor, to the ceiling and back again. Maybe ten seconds passed, maybe sixty. It was hard to tell, and Amy was the one to break the silence.
"Oh."
A faint sound of realization. I guess I didn't have to wonder if she knew then. Santana must have told her about last winter, at least some of it.
Another batch of seconds passed. I stood frozen on the carpet, Santana's gaze still jumped around the room and Amy slowly sank back on the soles of her feet.
"I'm sorry," Amy said eventually. "I should have realized it was an old picture."
She looked at me for assurance and I did my best to send out signals of "it's okay".
"Don't be. You have every right to ask. It's not like it's hidden or anything."
"You sure?"
I nodded.
Santana was yet to say anything, she had turned back at the window again and this time when I looked at her I didn't think about her comfortable clothes or her sheer beauty. I thought about the way her posture now said more than everything she'd ever said to me before – drunken or sober.
She cleared her throat after a while, a tiny cough.
"Nevermind. You couldn't know. I was just startled by it." Her voice was so calm, it surprised me.
Then she looked right at me, eyes burning, mouthing words meant only for me. The faintest whisper.
"I didn't know you kept it."
My heart did something then. I'm not sure if it was breaking or bursting or a combination of both, but it beat so, so hard.
-#-#-#-#-
All the awkward weirdness faded away after a while. We snuck into the kitchen when Sylvester wasn't there and convinced one of the other chefs to "accidentally" "ruin" three crème brulées. Then Mercedes caught us with her web of gossip and by the time the first laundry load was done I knew everything I never knew I didn't wanna know about my coworkers and friends.
I wasn't gonna overthink this. Quinn had been right. The imaginary ball was in Santana's court, and if she didn't say or do anything more to make me question her, we were friends.
But it was hard.
Especially when Amy and I began throwing rolled up socks at each other instead of folding laundry and I caught her looking. You would expect Santana Lopez to be in full eye-roll mode about a sock war but no. She stared at me like what I did was nothing but adorable, even when I went against every unstated rule and brought a couple of unwashed socks into the mix.
But she did roll her eyes when she realized I caught her staring. And when one of the dirty socks hit Amy straight in the face, they teamed up against me.
I didn't win. Santana wrestled me to the floor and Amy threatened to cover my face with dirty laundry. As disgusting as that could have gotten, a part of me didn't wanna surrender because being pinned to the floor by Santana, hello?
A couple of hours later, I was lying in my bed, waiting for my brain to shut down. It had been a pretty good day. Even when I counted the photo-thing, it was definitely on the plus-side of days.
I turned my head, scanning the wall and drifted into sleep thinking of Santana.
-#-#-#-#-
They were carrying the last load of laundry back to their apartment, and Amy knew she had to ask now or Santana would remain silent. That was one of the big downsides with their housing situation – no privacy whatsoever.
"San, are you okay?"
"Mhm."
"I didn't know it was an old picture. I thought you guys had taken recently."
"I said I'm okay, right?" Santana snapped.
The walk was short. Too short. Over.
Amy stayed silent when they walked through the lobby. Someone had cleaned up the puke from earlier and only a funky smell lingered in the elevator.
The girls threw the piles of clean clothes in their roommate's beds because some twist of fate (or more likely a combination of beer and video games) had them coming home to an empty apartment.
Amy waited a few more minutes but Santana showed no interest in talking to her. Too bad for her, Amy showed no mercy to moody friends.
"Okay, listen San," she said, reaching for the volume control and lowering No Doubt to a bearable volume. "I know I told you to tell me if you needed to talk but I also think you're acting a bit silly right now."
Santana's head emerged from the drawer under their bed, glaring angrily.
"You're completely shit when it comes to talking about feelings, heck even your body betrays you. Don't think I can't see it."
Amy rambled on to a temporarily mute Santana. It hit close to home, even if she hated to admit it.
"Did something happen between you and Brittany?"
Amy saw the change in Santana's eyes immediately. From angry to something reminiscent of fear in less than a second.
"What do you mean happened?"
"I don't know, you tell me."
Santana turned her back on Amy, walked into the pantry and studied the coffee mugs on the shelf.
"Do you want tea?"
"Stop deflecting Santana. Either you talk now or you can find someone else to use as a shrink. You can't be like this all winter, am I clear?"
The stern tone in Amy's voice didn't go unnoticed. Santana kept fiddling with the tea but the way her shoulders slumped made Amy think of a sad puppy.
"Earl grey or rooibos?" Santana asked when the water was boiling.
"Doesn't matter. You pick. Now get over here you miserable twat," Amy said, softer this time.
She had figured that Santana was like a skittish animal, it was very easy to push her to much and make her shut down completely. For her own sanity's sake, Amy wanted to avoid that scenario.
The girls sipped their scorching tea in silence for a couple of minutes, Amy relaxed and Santana tense and nervous.
"You're gonna stare a hole in the table if you keep avoiding eye contact like that."
"Huh? Oh.. sorry," Santana said and stared at the wall instead.
"San, come on, what did you do? You're acting like you killed Brittany's cat or something. And I know for a fact that the cat in question currently resides in Brighton."
"Yeah, no.. no I didn't kill her cat."
"So what did you do then? Words, San. I know you know how to use them."
Santana scratched her head awkwardly and let out another faint sigh, still refusing to look Amy in the eyes.
"I-told-her-I-just-want-to-be-friends-and-now-I-th ink-I-regret-it," she blurted. "I mean I do. Regret it."
"Come again?" a puzzled Amy said.
"I told her I just want to be friends. And I regret it," Santana repeated shakily.
At last, she looked up and met Amy's gaze with big teary eyes.
"Oh." Amy didn't know what to say. They hadn't spoken much about Brittany during the last week, the Amy and Robert thing had been much more in focus in their little gang because no one could tell for sure whether they were dating or just hooking up, not even Amy.
"And just to make things clear, that is a bad thing?" Amy asked.
"I don't know. It is the wiser decision. But it feels like shit."
"So tell her?"
"I know, I know.. but you've seen how I act when I'm around her. I'm a dysfunctional mute. I have no idea how to behave when she's in the room, it's like her just being there breaks all the synapses in my brain or something. I feel like a scared fourteen year-old around her."
Amy had to choke back a laughter when she pictured a younger Santana, scrawny and stuttering and with no game whatsoever. Not very difficult since present Santana didn't have much game either, at least not around the one person she really cared about.
"It's not funny."
"It is though.. a little. But hey, hey Santana, don't.." Amy's voice faded away when Santana started sobbing.
"I'm scared," she admitted.
"I've kinda figured that out," Amy said. She held her hand out over the table for Santana to take. She had a hard time grasping what exactly scared Santana so much. Sure, she knew by now that her bandmate was much more introvert than her stage-persona had made her believe, but on the verge of tears? It was a lot of reaction over a former fling, in Amy's opinion.
"But I don't get it? What are you scared of? You tell her and either she's into you or she's not," Amy tried, squeezing Santana's hand gently. "The sooner you do it the less invested you'll be and the less it'll hurt."
"I know.. I do," Santana sniffled. "And it sounds so easy, but I feel shellshocked in a good way when I'm with her and my words stop making sense. She's like sunshine and rainbows on a rainy day and it terrifies me.. how could I ever be good enough for someone like her? Why would she ever want me?"
"Isn't that Brittany's decision, not yours?"
Santana turned silent again, and stared at her tea like she wanted the liquid to answer in her absence. She took a sip and cleared her throat.
"It's just.. on one hand I can't see this going anywhere. I'm terrible at dating, I've never had a serious relationship with anyone and we're here and everything's supposed to be all fun and games and being young and.. hooking up with whoever you want and.." she lost her words again and Amy urged her on, nodding.
"And on the other hand I just wanna be with her. Hell, it doesn't have to be, you know.. physically, which also freaks me out because I'm not sure how that goes, I mean girl on girl, but it's not about that. Not so much. I just wanna be where she is because everything's beautiful there, and fuzzy, and scary. And I'm rambling. See?"
Santana finished her monologue with a deep, frustrated breath and relaxed her hands that had been clenched awkwardly.
"Don't you think you're planning ahead of yourself now, San?"
Santana blushed and let out a defeated sigh. "I guess."
"I mean, Brittany's all kinds of perfect, but you hardly even know each other. Don't you think you should get to know her better before bringing out the grand romantic gestures I'm sure you're planning?"
"Yeah..."
"Hey, I know what this is like, I've fallen head-over-heels too sometimes, and it's scary as fuck. But either you tell her that you, eventually wanna be more than friends, or you don't and just go with the flow. But you've gotta talk. At least try to. Shy and angry is a very alienating combination, you know."
"I wish I could turn off the feelings," Santana said after a while.
"No you don't," Amy replied.
"Yeah, I do, a bit. All the daydreams I had over the summer overwhelmed me when I met her in real life again. It's so easy to fantasize about someone you think you'll never see again, and then, suddenly she's there for real and my brain just goes haywire and you know the rest.
I figured it was all imagination and memories, but she's just like I remembered. And that's both good and bad."
"Are you gonna tell her that?"
"Hell no!" Santana's invisible walls flew back up in 0.1 seconds, sharp.
"So you're gonna keep up your "I just wanna be friends"-charade?"
"No.. not for long. But I can't go from I can't hook up with you because my brain will collapse to I wanna be with you in three days, can I?"
"That's your decision, San, not mine. But can you please try and act like a sane person and not some kind of offended hermit?"
"I'll try."
Amy frowned.
"I.. I mean I will."
"That's my girl," Amy stood up and walked over to Santana and caught her in a big hug.
"Thanks Amy," Santana whispered into the redhead's shoulder.
"No problemo. I'll tell you when I need you to return the favor," Amy half-joked.
"Like that's gonna happen. I wish I was as laid-back as you," Santana said with a hint of jealousy in her voice.
"No you don't. I only end up hurting people because I like when things are casual."
"Is that what you're doing with Rob?" Santana inquired.
"Maybe.. I don't know. I like having someone. It doesn't have to be the love of my life or even the love of the winter.. but I'm afraid he doesn't see it the way I do."
"Just give me heads up if there's any risk of a civil war in the apartment."
"Don't worry, I will," Amy giggled.
Santana put her empty teacup back on the table and sat down on Amy's bunk.
"Amy, aren't you ever afraid of getting hurt?"
Amy sat down next to Santana, and looked at her, studied her face.
"Sometimes I am," she said, thoughtfully. "But I'm more afraid of regretting stuff I was to afraid to do."
"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger," Santana hummed.
"True. Cliché but true."
"I have to keep that in mind," Santana stated with sudden determination. She thought of Brittany, pictured her walking down the only street in the village. Then she let herself into the picture – holding hands with the blonde. The image made her stomach turn in a nervous but pleasant way.
Maybe she should tell Brittany. Maybe falling and getting hurt would be better than only watching and dreaming from afar.
In a very un-Santana-like move she snuggled closer to Amy.
"Thanks for listening," she mumbled. "I'm glad I have you."
Amy patted Santana comically on the head and put her arm around Santana's shoulder.
"Hey, I'm only glad my wisdom's appreciated."
Santana snorted, but made herself comfortable next to the other girl.
The girls ended up watching a couple of episodes of Gilmore Girls on Amy's laptop, because Amy claimed that the dialogue would do wonders with Santana's occasional muteness. By the time the rest of their little gang came home Santana was almost back to her usual, snarky self.
-#-#-#-#-
[Monday, december 26:th 2011]
"I for one believe that it would be a fantastic opportunity for us girls to bond properly and let go of all the stress caused by the additional wrk that has been leading up to christmas. Friendships among coworkers are known to do wonders to the staff's morale and improve helpfulness and.."
"Alright, alright, we're in. Just.. shorten your sentences, will you?" Quinn interrupted Rachel, the tiny waitress, before the short brunette would venture into a monologue several minutes long.
"Yes!" Rachel exclaimed and started bouncing on the spot, practically squealing with joy. I know a lot of people think I'm easily excited but I swear, I've got nothing on Rachel.
"But you have to make sure this stays between us girls. And if Schue finds out, Brittany and I have nothing to do with it, are we clear," Quinn continued, a menacing tone in her voice.
"Crystal," Rachel gulped before disappearing into the kitchen, undoubtedly to tell Marley and Tina about the plans for the evening.
Somehow Rachel had found out that Sam had brought an old Playstation unit, with Singstar, and she had been nagging us for a "girl's night karaoke" for days.
The only problem was that our dear hotel manager was very strict when it came to staff partying in the hotel, even in our own rooms. Once Amy heard of Rachel's plans she had volunteered the band's apartment, but they didn't have a TV. The only one big enough to use for karaoke was in our room, and since our room was situated right under the bar I figured the noise would be a non-issue.
Quinn on the other hand, was not as positive but in the end Rachel's nagging had paid off, and the karaoke was officially a go.
Sam and I had the evening shift, but I would join as soon as I could. If I were lucky it would be a slow night and I could sneak away from the rep duty early. Besides, the waitresses worked until ten so I wouldn't miss much.
-#-#-#-#-
"Brittany, no. Let's stick to beer or wine."
"But this is so good. You mix it with Sprite and you won't even taste the alcohol, I promise."
"That's the problem. Do you have to be completely hammered every time we go out?" Quinn argued.
"No, but.." I eyed the apple liquor on the shelf greedily. "It's only what.. 17%. Add a bit of soda and it'll be like wine. Only less yucky."
"Whatever, your choice. But don't blame me tomorrow morning."
"No worries, I won't. Thank you for being such an easily overturned voice of reason," I squealed and put a bottle in my basket.
"You're welcome," I heard Quinn mutter before she disappeared down another aisle.
Three weeks into the season the days had become very schedule-y, and even the simple task of running the five minute errand to the supermarket had to be covered by someone, in this case Sam. There was always something – skiing with guests, taking care of complaints or injuries, planning activities and transfers, mingling at the hotel and answering questions 24/7. Sometimes I wish there would have been four of us, but Schuester didn't care about our workload as long as no guests complained to him.
No that I was complaining either, but it would be nice to have more than one day off a week.
By the time we had snuck down to our room with the backpack filled with various bottles and snacks the aprés-ski was in full swing. Santana was amazing, as usual.
She had been less awkward over the last few days. Maybe it was the christmas spirit more than our talk a few days back, but I enjoyed the change nevertheless. We had actually shared a couple long conversations about nothing in particular during the christmas dinner yesterday without her freezing up, and I really liked getting to know her better.
All the staff had participated in a gift exchange where you buy a gift for about 5 euros but you don't know who will receive it, and then you take turns picking presents. It could have been the vin chaud, but Santana had seemed truly excited when she unwrapped a furry marmot toy, instantly naming it Eddie and carrying it with her the whole night. I didn't tell her that she had gotten my gift, but I was secretly kind of smug that she liked it.
Santana's exterior was so confident, tough and snarky, but when I had gotten to know her a little and she let her guard down she was this adorable dork who struggled with social interaction. Of course it hurt that she had cut off my hopes of being more than friends in the near future, but being friends with Santana was also great. I had to think of how I acted around her lesser every day – we were actually getting comfortable around each other.
I just had to keep a little bit of physical distance and I'd be just fine.
I emptied the backpack and put the beers, wine and the liquor in a plastic back and hung it on the outside of the balcony door to cool before following Quinn upstairs.
"Hey 'Cedes, you excited for tonight?" I called over the noisy lobby.
"You bet I am, I can't wait," she called back.
"Excited about what, Miss Pierce," a curious voice behind me said. Fuck. Schuester. Schuester, and my non-existent poker face. I was so busted.
I forced my brain to come up with a lie, anything even half-believable but it was blank.
"We're gonna go through all the plans for the New Year's dinner," a collected voice said on my other side. Quinn. Thank every higher power there is.
"You know how thrilled these two get about planning events," she smiled and gestured at me and Mercedes. I swallowed thickly and forced a smile onto my face.
"Excellent," Schuester mused. "I have great hopes for this New Year's," he said before walking away.
"That was close," I gasped. "I'm so sorry Q, I had no idea he was skulking around today. I thought he had the day off."
"So did I, but please be more careful next time."
"Well, duh."
"Thank god he's like the most gullible man in the world."
-#-#-#-#-
"Brittany, it's not gonna move any faster no matter how many times you look at it."
"I know, I know. But it's so slow," I whined and sent the clock on the wall a reproachful glare.
"Just help me get these lists in order and I'll take the rest."
"You will?! Thank you Sam, you're the best!"
"You're welcome. Besides, you girls are occupying our room tonight and I might as well have another one up on you for some other time," he smirked.
"Sneaky," I smiled and punched him on the shoulder.
Ten minutes later I bounced down the stairs, humming happily.
Singing was heard from the far end of the hallway – someone was doing a pretty good rendition of Mamma Mia. I quickly opened the door and shut it again. I knew Schuester was nowhere near – he lived in another building, but I was not taking any chances, not after the incident earlier.
It was steaming inside. Santana sat on the carpet, singing together with Amy. Tina and Quinn sat in the sofa-bunk, and Mercedes, Marley and Rachel sat on Sam's bunk. The air was thick with various perfumes, hairspray and a faint scent of liquor.
"Yay, Brittany! You got off early," Tina squealed and bounced off the bed to hug me.
"Yeah, Sam was nice enough to let me go. I'm just gonna change and then I wanna sing. You saved some good songs for me, right?"
"We only got here like fifteen minutes ago. Quinn, Amy and Santana's been at it for longer though," Rachel explained.
"Right," I said and started rummaging through my shelves in search of clothes. I had no idea what I wanted to wear, as long as it didn't have a company logo on it. And there was no such thing as a dresscode here – Quinn, Rachel and Mercedes wore dresses and the rest were in various combinations of jeans and shirts or tops.
"Here," Tina said and handed me a plain white t-shirt and tight black jeans.
"That, and that black vest you for some illogical reason never wear," she added and pushed me in the direction of the bathroom, two and a half steps away.
"Easy T, are you drunk already?" I laughed at her anti-manners.
"Nope, buzzed. But you need to catch up. Get changed and I'll get you a drink."
"But.."
"Apple and Sprite. And then we're gonna sing. Go on now," Tina fussed and shut the bathroom door behind me.
"Thank you," I shouted at her through the door.
-#-#-#-#-
The more we sang the more I wondered whether the hotel held job interviews or auditions when they hired their staff. Santana and Amy could sing, obviously, and I knew that Quinn had a great voice, but Tina, Mercedes and even shy Marley were good too. And Rachel had an obnoxiously big voice for such a small person. She belted out high notes like she belonged on Broadway.
Me? I was just goofing around. I've always been more of a dancer than a singer. I like to sing, but these girls were in another league.
I was two drinks in and felt a little tingly. Currently, Santana and Marley were doing a very odd version of One Way Or Another. Santana was going all in, prancing around the room like she was on stage, and Marley stood still in a corner, singing like an angel but terrified of moving. It reminded me of the movie, Coyote Ugly, but in real life with Marley as Piper Perabo's character. And Santana danced around in pink socks with green polka dots on them, not her usual Dr Marten's.
All in all, watching Santana was hilarious. And breathtaking. No matter what she wore or what she did, I always found myself looking at her. She was magnetic.
When the song finished, loud cheers were mixed with Tina and Mercedes arguing over whose turn it was and what song to choose. I decided to step in before things got too heated.
"But you said we should sing together T,"
"See, totally my turn, 'cause Brittany haven't sung yet" Tina told Mercedes happily.
"Whatever. You weaklings aren't ready for the diva-tastic experience that I am anyway," Mercedes stated confidently.
"Oh yes we are," I interjected "we just wanna do a little nineties-thing first, right Tina?"
Tina just grinned at me.
"No, please don't," Quinn groaned and fell back on Sam's bunk.
"How many times do I have to tell you they're under-appreciated, Quinn?" I raised an eyebrow at my supposedly suffering friend.
"Many. And what the heck is a zig-a-zig aaaah?"
"I really don't wanna know," I laughed, just in time with the beginning of the song. Tina tossed me one of the microphones and we fell into the familiar dance routine.
Before the song had ended, Marley, Rachel and Amy had joined us on the floor and we passed the mics around like maniacs. (Someone should have invented five-channel Singstar for all the nineties group songs.)
"The irony makes it kind of bearable," Santana giggled from her spot in the corner when we wrapped up the song.
"What irony?" I winked. "Spice Girls is one hundred precent serious to me. Always."
She must have had trouble reading the earnest look on my face because she frowned a little, seemingly lost for words.
"Relax Santana, I'm not kidding but I'm not some crazy Spice Girls stan either. I just like happy songs."
"Oh, right." She shrugged her shoulders and sat up straight, taking a swig from her plastic cup.
"Girls, although our voices are nothing short of magnificent, what do you say we take a break from the singing and play some games?" Rachel suggested loudly.
"Don't choke on the big words, tiny person," Santana muttered and rolled her eyes.
"Fine, but not spin the bottle, it's no fun with no guys," Mercedes added.
"Oh, I know, never have I ever!" Tina chimed in excitedly. Everybody made approving noises except for Santana who groaned and rolled her eyes again.
Amy kicked her shin lightly and sent her a reproachful glare.
"Come on, it's dull!" Santana protested. "It's either questions about sex that are supposed to be embarrassing, or silly questions about socks or personal hygiene."
"It's just a game, party pooper," Tina sulked.
"Yeah, you don't have to join if you don't want to," Rachel said.
"But if you don't join you have to leave. No sitting here gloating in other's secrets without participating," Quinn added. I wasn't convinced that she meant it but the cocky look on Santana's face faded away and she accepted with a sigh.
"Sweet, so can I start with the very typical question that always comes up then?" I asked.
"By all means," Rachel said.
"Right.." I pretended to think about my question for a few seconds "..I've never had buttsex."
That earned me a frown from Tina, an elbow in the side from Quinn and a shocked gasp from Rachel.
"What, it always comes up eventually, why not begin with it?" I chuckled.
"Yeah, fine, you're right," Rachel admitted reluctantly. Then she let out another shocked sound and looked, wide-eyed, next to me.
"What? Marley, girl, of all the people in this room I thought you were the most innocent," Mercedes almost snorted a second later. Marley looked around the room, bewildered.
"I tho.. thought so too?" she stuttered.
"You know you only drink if you have actually done something, right?" Tina asked caringly.
"Oh. Umm, no.. I thought it was the other way around," Marley mumbled, blushing furiously.
"Don't worry Marley, there's a first time for everything," I said and nudged her shoulder, trying to put her at ease a little. And I swear I heard a mumbled "Wanky" from over where Santana sat.
"Charming," Quinn said coolly. "Never have I ever hooked up with someone I work with."
"Define hook up," I asked and was met with snicker and a chorus of ooooh's.
"Making out, or sex. Innocent kisses does not count."
I didn't answer, just took a few gulps from my glass. As did Tina, Amy and Mercedes. No surprises there. Everybody knew about Amy and Rob, and I had caught a flustered Mercedes with Sam a few days earlier. I wasn't sure who Tina had hooked up with though.
"Britt, who did you..?" Tina asked.
"Who didn't she?" Quinn interjected with a smirk.
"Why thank you, Lucy. Ehm.. one of the chefs last winter.. Emile? The half-french one. Dark hair, smoked a lot of weed, kinda short?"
"You did?!"
"You didn't know?"
"Apparently not."
"It was just a one time thing though. But he was sweet," I added for no particular reason. He had been sweet, so..
In the corner of my eye I saw Santana. She was peeling off the label on her beer bottle, looking distraught.
I had no intention of mentioning what had happened between us, and I don't know if she was worried about it. She just continued fiddling with the torn ettiquette.
"Oh, speaking of," Rachel interrupted. "I sincerely hope I'm not offending you now Brittany but I heard an intriguing rumor about you the other day," she giggled. I frowned, unsure of what I'd done that was interesting enough to be called intriguing, but then again – Rachel really liked big words. Maybe because she was so small physically.
"Did you now," Quinn interjected with a voice of steel, glaring at the tiny brunette. Rachel didn't catch the danger in her tone and continued.
"Well, I heard you had a sapphic romance last winter, and being raised by two dads I'm always excited to meet other members of the LGBT community," Rachel rambled on.
At her words, the cogs in my head started working rapidly, trying to figure out a way to not deny it but not include Santana either. Enough people knew about us already, both after last winter and last week and it didn't have to be the talk of the village, twice. Especially since we were on our way to form some kind of friendship. Amazingly enough no one who didn't know had made the connection between the "hot guest" from last year and Santana storming out of her apartment last week, and I wanted to keep it that way.
I took a sip of my drink and smiled, surprising myself that I didn't force it.
"It's alright Rachel, it's no big secret, really."
Rachel looked delighted, then flinched when she noticed the way Quinn still was glaring.
"So what happened," Mercedes asked.
I felt myself blushing, thinking back to those few days with Santana before everything got complicated.
"Well, girl meets girl, sparks fly.." I offered, trying to avoid specific details.
"Aaaaand..?" Rachel pushed.
"The timing wasn't right, you know." I paused and decided to go out on a limb, just to make sure Santana got to hear my side of the story once more. "I really liked her, I still care for her a lot and under other circumstances I would have fallen for her, but I didn't allow myself to do that fully back then. It would have hurt too much. We parted as friends, and if the timing ever gets better, I'd love to give us a try," I finished, looking straight at Rachel and Mercedes, focusing hard on not gazing over at the subject of my affection.
"So she was only here for a vacation?" Rachel asked, and when I nodded she sighed like a little girl watching a Disney movie.
I finished the rest of my drink and got up to make another one. There was a weird.. not tension but.. air.. in the room now, and a silence than no one seemed eager to fill. More than half of the people in the room knew the story already, yet everybody acted a bit shell-shocked.
Maybe I shouldn't have been so honest, maybe I should have laughed it off.
I put down the half-empty bottle of Sprite when Marley spoke.
"So, um.. are you gay?" She looked apologetic and I smiled to show her that she hadn't overstepped. Poor kid, sometimes she was so fidgety she made Santana seem calm.
"You could say that," I answered. "But I don't know if that's the right label, or if I fit under any label at all. I like people.. I've fallen for both boys and girls in the past, and I've had sex with both. It's more about who the person is than the gender. Usually I just say that I'm not straight and don't specify too much."
I wasn't sure if that was a good explanation, but Marley nodded shyly.
"So who are better kissers? Guys or girls?" Amy asked, grinning widely.
"It depends. If I like the person, the kisses are better by default.. but I have to say girls tend to be better right from the start. I dunno, but some guys are so eager they forget to enjoy it."
"Praise!" Mercedes added.
Soon thereafter the game continued and if nothing else, Quinn and I had our suspicions confirmed – Rachel and Marley was indeed as goody-two-shoes as we had suspected. Nothing a couple of months here wouldn't change though.
Santana confessed to having completely lost at strip poker once and my mind went straight to the gutter, so much that I forgot to listen to the next question and just drank. So now everyone thinks I've had a foursome. Shit happens, I guess. Plus all of us was more or less on our way to be shitfaced, and constantly breaking into fits of giggles so it became more and more unclear who had actually done what.
-#-#-#-#-#-
"So, Brittany," Santana spoke, trying to suppress a yawn. The two of them, and Quinn were sitting on the floor, sharing what was left of the beverages and a can of Pringles. Amy and Marley had fallen asleep or passed out, which one exactly was a little unclear, in the sofa-bunk, and the others had left for Peak. Soft indie rock was playing from Quinn's iPod and the mood had gone from girls' night to surprisingly cozy.
"Have you been with a lot of girls?"
The instant the words left her mouth, Santana regretted speaking – a big part if her didn't want to know. But after Rachel's interrogation earlier, she couldn't stop her curiosity, so instead of looking away she met Brittany's blue gaze, almost challenging.
Quinn coughed awkwardly but didn't say anything. Brittany looked at Santana, not angry or anything, just watched her, intensely.
"Well, my first real relationship was with a girl, in high school. And then I've slept with two more girls, but that was just casual. Pride week can get a bit rowdy," Brittany added and giggled apologetically.
"Oh. Okay."
Santana fell silent, unsure of how to continue. After maybe ten uncomfortable seconds she looked at Quinn who looked back, shocked.
"Me? What? No. I'm straight, definitely. I've kissed a few girls but no. I'm not really that into that."
"You just have to find the right chick and you'll be joining the rainbow side in seconds, Quinnie the Pooh," Brittany teased. "We have cookies you know. And unicorns. And it's colorful." She smiled brightly and fell onto her back on the carpet, stretching her long body and let out the cutest yawn.
"What about you, Santana?" Brittany asked the ceiling.
"Um.. no," Santana stammered, and glanced over at the bed where Marley and Amy were snoring lightly. "Only you," she muttered weakly. The room was dimly lit, only a few tea candles and the streetlights outside providing light, and she was thankful, 'cause she was blushing again. There was nothing to do about it.
A surprisingly comfortable silence fell in the room and Santana just sat there, gazing out the window with Brittany's words from earlier echoing in her head.
"I really liked her, I still care for her a lot and under other circumstances.."
"..if the timing ever gets better, I'd love to give us a try."
Timing. That wasn't the problem. The problem was that Santana was a fucking coward who chose solitude over something potentially great. She mentally smacked herself on the head and took a deep breath. She could totally do this, put her words together and tell Brittany she didn't wanna be friends.
It should be so easy, just open her mouth and say it, take a chance for once. But when Santana opened her mouth, no words came. She sat there, eyeing the perfect girl sprawled out on the carpet next to her, and Quinn half-asleep leaning against the wall.
Santana was physically aching to lie down next to Brittany and cuddle, whisper her regrets and apologies, tangle her hands in soft blonde hair. Stay the night, trace unspoken words in the palm of her hand, walk back to her own apartment without shame tomorrow morning after getting a kiss goodbye, hang out later in the day, and the day after, and the day after. She wanted to know Brittany's opinions on everything from the latest records to international politics and whether pandas were sort of useless animals or not.
She wanted everything.
But nothing happened.
The dream scenarios vanished, and Santana just sat there, committing every detail of Brittany to memory, too overwhelmed to speak. She was getting used to the way Brittany, or just thinking about Brittany, really, could make her useless but it happened at very unfortunate times.
Like now.
Quinn was half-sleeping, Brittany gazed at the roof, no one else would care or listen to her but Santana only sat there, unable to put together a proper sentence.
After maybe a minute she gave up and fell back on the floor, cursing inwardly. She was just within touching distance of Brittany – if she only had dared to reach out her hand and grab the blonde's. Before she had mustered enough courage to do so, Quinn stirred and looked at the watch above the door.
"Guys I'm gonna go to bed now," she said. "I'm tired, I don't feel like going out."
"Me neither," Brittany mumbled and stretched her arms, making a sound that was a mix of a yawn and a whimper.
"Yeah, me neither," Santana agreed and scrambled to her feet. "I'm gonna get going."
She moved towards the bunkbed to wake Amy.
"You don't have to wake her," Quinn interrupted. "Let them sleep, no one uses that bed anyway," she said with an affectionate look at Amy and Marley. She then grabbed a woolen blanket from her own bunk and put it over the sleeping girls' before heading into the bathroom.
Santana nodded and went to put her jacket on when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She braced herself before turning around, not knowing what she would see in Brittany's eyes.
Kindness. Kindness and a whispered request.
"You can stay here if you want to, too."
Santana gulped, rendered temporarily mute from the sincerity in Brittany's eyes.
"I.. umm, I don't want to intrude.." she tried.
"You wouldn't be intruding," Brittany said, toying with the sleeve of Santana's t-shirt, causing a billion butterflies to gather in Santana's lower stomach. Brittany's expression was so difficult to read. Somewhere deep down Santana felt like there was want, but in that case it was buried deep underneath a thick layer of genuine care. And neither of them were sober. Not shitfaced, but definitely under the influence. That made everything even more confusing.
"I don't think.." Brittany turned silent, perhaps realizing that she was treading close to the ambigious border between friendship and whatever was beyond. "You shouldn't have to walk back home alone in the dark is all," Brittany then mumbled over the buzzing of Quinn's electrical toothbrush.
Santana couldn't help but choke down a laugh. Her walk home was about 100 meters with streetlights the whole way, both she and Brittany knew that and she reminded the blonde as much. Brittany flushed a little but persisted.
"But still, you never know who might lurk on the streets at this hour."
"Brittany, come on, it's only half past one, it's hardly late, and the village is swarming with gendarmes."
Brittany's smile faltered a little and she looked down, letting go of Santana's upper arm at the same time.
"I'm sorry, I overstepped," she mumbled and took a small step backwards. The look on her face made Santana feel like someone had ripped a band-aid off a fresh wound without warning.
"No!" she exclaimed a little too loud, and Brittany looked at her again. She gulped and tried to sort out the words in her head while Brittany eyed her expectantly.
"You didn't overstep, it's just that it's a short walk. I didn't mean to make fun of you Britt."
Something in Brittany's eyes softened then, and Santana's heart fluttered when she realized she'd used her nickname without a second thought. She hadn't called her Britt since, well.. back in february, and it felt good to do it again, even though it maybe was too intimate.
"Maybe you could stay anyway?" Brittany asked. "I mean, just sleeping, just as friends even though you know there's nothing "just" about being friends, I mean.. shit."
"It's okay Brittany, I get it. And I'll stay. Friends can cuddle, right?" Santana asked with a crooked smile.
"Mhm," Brittany nodded.
"On two conditions though," Santana continued.
"Sure."
"Can I borrow something to sleep in, and a toothbrush? That apple liqour has made my teeth all fuzzy," Santana grimaced.
"Yeah, no problem. We bought a big pack while getting here. There are extras under the sink. I'll get you a t-shirt too."
Quinn left the bathroom, and Santana slunk in with a large red t-shirt Brittany handed her. She stared at her reflection for a while before undressing, and unsuccessfully tried to ignore the muffled conversation between Quinn and Brittany on the other side of the door.
"..seriously?" Quinn snapped.
"..sound like an episode of Grey's, Q.."
"..wise? After your little speech earlier she knows how you feel.."
Brittany turned silent.
"..sorry, but is this really a good idea?"
"..but it's better than nothing. We're friends, sort of and.." Brittany pleaded.
"..just keep it in your pants B, don't make a mess like.."
Then Brittany's voice grew louder, and angrier.
"Quinn, you've gotta back off now. This is my business, not yours, and there's a difference between hopeful and stupid, and it's up to me to decide where that line is drawn."
A mumbled "sorry" and "goodnight" followed, and then silence.
Santana spit out the toothpaste and rinsed, and at the same time tried to decide what to do next. Pretend she hadn't overheard? Go with the flow and decide if Brittany asked her? Tell her she heard most of it?
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts and Brittany opened the door a little, eyes closed and face scrunched up adorably.
"Are you decent?" she asked and Santana melted a little.
"Yeah, no need to keep your eyes shut."
"Sweet! I'm just gonna brush my teeth, you can pick a side. Not that there's a lot of space.. the bed's kinda narrow but you know that already so.. umm, yeah."
Santana didn't know what to say so she flashed a smile and walked out to the main room.
-#-#-#-#-#-
She was already lying in my bed when I climbed up, sprawled right in the middle.
"Come on Santana, pick a side," I giggled and poked her side.
"Yeaaaaah," she yawned and rubbet her eyes sleepily without opening them. Adorable.
She seemed to be too sleepy to care so I shoved her a little and crawled down between her and the wall, facing her.
"Santana?"
"Mmmh?"
"Would it be alright if we spooned?"
Silence. She was lying perfectly still. Shit. I had overstepped again. I heard Quinn sighing theatrically from the other bunk and felt really embarrassed.
Then Santana scooted closer, reached for my hand and tucked it around her waist with an appreciative little sound. I breathed in deeply and a few minutes later I fell asleep with the warm scent of Santana's hair filling my nostrils.
Like I've said before.. I have no control over this story anymore, and also this chapter felt a bit like a filler. Sorry about that.
Over all it feels like I've lost a bit of the speed in this story.. I'm working on it though and once it's finished I might edit the whole thing to make it better.
Anyway, IF I can keep myself on track, there will be stuff happening in the next chapter. I'm in my last months of school now so I have no idea when I'll have the time to write again (writing is also my job and sometimes my creativity just goes dead) but I promise I will finish this story, even though canon Brittana seems to be over.
(And I wrote the Spice Girls part in early january. Just wanted to say that.) And thanks for the lovely reviews.
Until next time!