Title: Never Knew I Needed [Part Ten]
Rating: NC-17
Length: 11.7k
Notes: Got a review that said I 'completely ripped off the plot from 'How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days' when I most definitely haven't. If you've seen that film, you'll know it's a bet by two people who didn't know each other and this story is about two best friends who become more after too much alcohol and some good old sexy times one night. Admittedly, I got inspiration for this family holiday part from that film, but I didn't rip it off and don't plan on it at all. I should've written that in the previous chapter, but I forgot; so I don't own any of that plot at all and never said I have. Also, don't bring my Beta into this; she has nothing to do with it and all she's said is that she loves it and that was it. So if you're going to start yelling at someone, yell at me, not her.
Disclaimer: Don't own anything just in case people think I've committed 'plagiarism.'
/
When you get back to the car, you move to the passenger side and open the door, ready to help Brittany get in but when you tug her, she stands by the side of the car and looks at you. Not looks at you in the adoring way you're used to, but in a way that makes you think she wants to ask you something. So your eyes flick from side to side, wondering whether you should just pretend like you can't see it because you don't know what she's going to ask, or just face it. In the end, you know you never really had a choice to you straighten up and twist your body back to her, grabbing both her hands again, your bodies facing each other.
"What you thinking?"
Brittany pauses for a second, chewing on her lower lip. "Can I drive?" She asks and that kind of wasn't what you were expecting but you guess it's slightly relieving.
"You wanna drive back?" You repeat, twisting your face. "Do you even know how to drive?"
You don't mean it to come out as rudely as it did, and you see the offense flash across blue eyes because you know Brittany's sensitive about her knowledge.
"I just mean—I've never seen you drive," you blurt out, trying to save yourself.
Brittany's face relaxes and she offers a smile. "That's why you're here," she responds and you begin smiling for no reason in particular.
"To teach you?" You question, lifting an eyebrow. Brittany nods. "You want me to teach you how to drive?"
She bobs her head. "I mean, you don't have to but I thought—"
"No," you interject, shaking your head but then nodding it. "I'd like to."
Brittany jumps up and down, her face splitting into the most excited grin and you take a moment to take in her features; the way her brow crinkles and how all her teeth are on show from how wide her smile is. How her eyes aren't just blue anymore, but a bright, sparkling color that sucks the air from your lungs because they're just so beautiful, and how her fingers clench that little tighter around yours and how she's pulling you close, one of her hands dropping from yours and the tips of them coming up to your jaw, adding the tiniest amount of pressure until the next thing you're aware of are the feel of warm lips pressing against your own.
Your eyes flutter shut, and you suck in a deep inhale through your nose as her nose nudges your cheek, her lips pressing harder into you. Her fingertips don't move from your jaw, just stroke over the skin and your lips quirk up at the touch, your heart swooning within your because she knows just what to say, just what to do and how to touch you to make your entire body tingle.
As soon you smile into the kiss, you feel Brittany's lips mirror it and then you're both smiling so much you can't keep it up, so you just break and open your eyes, staring at each other for a moment.
"What," you clear your throat, blood rushing to your face at how hoarse your voice is. "What was that for?"
Brittany's head turns, her eyes going with it as she shrugs. "I don't know," she returns to meet your glance. "A thank you for teaching me."
You let out a small laugh. "You don't even know if I can teach you. I could be crap at it."
She ponders of it for a few seconds before scrunching her nose and shaking her head. "I have faith in you," she whispers and something about that makes your heart flutter a little. No-one's ever had faith in you before. But before you can thank her, or blush or even blurt out something embarrassing, she's kissing you on the cheek and skipping around to the driver's side, sliding in and throwing you a wink as she says, "Come on Miss Lopez. Teach me."
You stare with your mouth open for a good five seconds, thinking about how hot it'd be to do a little role play with Brittany in the bedroom, before you stumble over your feet and climb into the car.
/
As the cars a little old, you decide to help Brittany out with the gears and control them so she can focus on the steering and pedals of the car. She stalls a few times, the most adorable frustrated pout on her face when the engine conks out, and you can't help but laugh because sometimes (read: all the time) she's really damn cute.
Anyway, you manage to get back to the house on a smooth run and it doesn't take half as much time as you thought it would. When Brittany pulls into the drive and parks perfectly, you watch her face beam and the most excited grin stretch across her face and you can't help but mirror it.
"I did it!" She yells, literally bouncing in her chuckle and nod in approval. "And almost better than me," you smirk.
Blue eyes slide in your direction, a fair eyebrow quirked. "Almost?" She repeats, her tone teasing. "I don't know, San; I reckon I gave you a run for your money."
You both chuckle together in the car for a few minutes before you roll your eyes and climb out. She does the same and you pull the roof of the car up, just in case. After, Brittany heads into the house, opening the door and you stand in the doorway, watching her kicking off her ankle boots and stretching her arms in the air because you like how comfortable she is here. You honestly feel your chest swell with affection at the sight and tilt your head, letting out a breathy sigh. She must hear it because she spins around, her hair whipping with the motion and she shoots you a toothy grin.
It snaps you out of it and you push off the doorway, moving toward her with your hands out. She takes them immediately and squeezes, blue eyes boring into brown.
"I can't hear your family," she whispers like it's a stage secret.
You frown, perking your ears up and you realize that yeah, she has a point; so you drop her hands and walk through to the living room, expecting to find your entire family lounging around but you come up with nothing.
Thinking that they're out on the deck, you head back out there, through the kitchen where you suspect your mom is because she's always there, but once again there's no-one there, or out the back and you pause, your face twisting with confusion as you listen to soft footsteps come up behind you.
Where the hell are they?
"We were gone like... four hours," you say, eyes flitting to the clock.
"You can totally get to like, Orlando, in four hours from here," Brittany randomly comments and your face switches from confusion to laughter. "Wait," she says and you spin around. "What if they've gone to Disneyland?" Her lip juts out into a pout, head cocking to the side and eyebrows furrowing and your small smile turns into a full-blown grin at her expression. "Why would they go without us?"
"How do you even know that?" You ask, ignoring her question.
Brittany's face turns guilty, but it's a playful guilt. "I might have looked it up," she whispers and God, she's so fucking cute you don't even know what to do with yourself.
"You're such a goober," you say and poke her nose, stepping closer. "But I doubt they went there," you continue but pause, shaking your head after a moment. No, they wouldn't have. "I'll go check upstairs."
She nods and you resist the urge to kiss her as you back through the house and upstairs.
/
Turns out, your family must have been exhausted because as you peer into each of the rooms, you see the sleeping forms of all your family. Your abuelo and abuela aren't there, but you suppose they would've left or gone to a hotel as they probably wouldn't have felt comfortable sleeping on the couches downstairs.
You creep back down the hallway, going toward the stairs but Brittany's already standing at the top of them, waiting patiently. You stop, look at her and tilt your head to the side.
"You could totally be a ninja."
"How do you know I'm not?" She smirks and you just stare in response, thinking about Brittany in a ninja uniform. It could be hot. "So did you find them?"
You peer over your shoulder to where you just came from and cross your arms over your chest. "Yeah," you say through an exhale and turn back to her. "They're asleep."
"Asleep?" She repeats, her eyebrows lifting and face scrunching in confusion, much like yours did when you found your family asleep. Though you know you definitely don't look half as cute as Brittany does when she's confused and you find yourself a little envious. You're sure any emotion would look good on Brittany. "It's like, nine thirty."
"Guess they were tired," you try to reason and you consider asking Brittany if she wants to go downstairs and watch a film or something, maybe even piss Roman off by eating the tub of dairy-free ice-cream you know your mom bought him as he's lactose intolerant so he can't have pudding tomorrow after lunch — consider it payback for leering and most probably using Brittany as fodder for his spank bank — but then Brittany's yawning and you don't want to keep her awake if she's tired; though you really don't want to be alone either.
No, scratch that, you don't want to be apart from her.
"Hey, San?" You blink at her, showing your willingness to listen. "Can I take a shower?" She asks, slowly, wrinkling her nose down at her body. "I feel a little sweaty from the beach."
You smile and nod, tell her it's okay and grab her hand as you lead her toward the bathroom. When you get in there, you drop Brittany's hand and push back the glass shower door, reaching for the knob and turning it on because this fucking thing is manic; one second it'll be scalding hot and the next it'll be so cold you'll turn into a freaking ice-cube, and you don't want Brittany to have to endure either of those temperatures, so you'll test it out on your arm first.
"The towels are in the cupboard," you say, balancing on one leg and wincing at the freezing water dripping on to your skin. "Just grab one and there's shampoo already in here," you pull your arm back and twirl around, meeting blue eyes staring back at you already. "And you already know where your room is," you chuckle, heading for the bathroom door.
And you don't want to part from her now, but you know she doesn't have any clothes so she'll come out the shower with a towel on and you're not sure you could keep your hands off her like that; not because you're a total horn dog but because... well, it's Brittany. That's pretty much enough explanation.
So you just grab door knob and open it, but as you step over the threshold, half inside the bathroom and half outside, a hand snaps out and cold, pale fingers wrap around your wrist, halting your movement.
"San," Brittany breathes quickly and you don't turn around because you can hear something... different in her voice.
"Yeah?"
"I just—I wanted to say thank you," she whispers and drops her hand away from you. "For listening to me and for this weekend. It... it means a lot."
Pasting on a small smile, you shoot it toward her, twisting your neck over your shoulder. "It's no problem," you reply, swallowing. "I liked it."
Blue eyes meet brown and you two just stare at each other, something changing in the air as your eyes dart between each of her. You don't know what it is, and you don't know why you feel your heart pick up as you stare because she's just saying thank you. She's just your best friend, saying thank you to her best friend for taking her away from the weekend and for listening to her problems. That's what best friends do. Hell, you know Quinn's heard you out enough about your problems and stuff, and maybe it might not have been as deep as family crap, but it was still listening to problems.
So it doesn't mean anything more than Brittany just being grateful. Nothing more.
Brittany's lips quirk into a soft smile and you watch her squint at you like she wants to say something as she pushes back some of the hair fallen in front of her face; but after you count seventeen seconds of dead silence between you, apart from your breathing and the shifting of your weight from one leg to another, you bob your head once and continue out the door, managing to step out completely and pull the door half-shut.
But that's when you hear it.
"San, wait!"
Once again, your peer through the door, sticking only your head in and keeping the rest of your body out. "Yeah?"
Brittany's mouth moves, her lips opening and closing, but she seems to be struggling to get her words out and so you just stand there, feeling like a bit of a spare idiot and blow out your cheeks. You don't know what she has to say, and with anyone else you'd just let out a grunt, or maybe a blunt good night and slam the door because you don't like your time being wasted—you're kind of a bitch like that—but this is Brittany, and so you just wait patiently, feel no frustration whatsoever. You'd wait forever to hear Brittany.
And it's another twenty-five seconds before she speaks, and when she does, you swear you all about die.
"Will you take a shower with me?"
/
You don't know why, but you've never had a shower with someone.
You're sure when you were a kid you shared a bath with a relative or whatever, but you were two at the time and that was the normal thing to do back then. Well, you never found it normal but your mom did and what were you going to do? You were two. The most you could've protested was slap your hands against the water and splash your bath buddy and make him cry and you were going to be fucked if you were going to get a slap on the ass for that, so you guess you must have just stayed quiet.
But that's totally not the point you're trying to make here. It's just that, you've never had a shower with someone because it just always seemed so... intimate. Revealing yourself completely naked—which okay, you do during sex but apparently to some people sex is intimate—and just standing there, caressing, touching, staring into each others eyes and washing each other, just seems like something a couple would do. Hell, you're pretty damn sure you've even seen movies with that in; but you're still finding yourself unable to say no to her.
"I mean, you don't have to. I just... If you wanted to," Brittany suddenly blurts out, her hands wringing in front of her and toes pointing in.
You know it means she's nervous, especially with the way her eyes are darting between you and the floor intermittently, and so before you know it, and without another word, you're stepping back into the bathroom, slowly and quietly shutting the door behind you. You can't help but smile to yourself at everything, at how comfortable you feel for doing this and you know that months ago, you would've freaked out and made up some lame ass excuse to get your butt out of here because you know this isn't normal for best friends; but then again, you and Brittany aren't exactly normal best friends and so you push all your fears and hesitations—and by all, you really mean all of them—to the back of your mind.
Just for tonight.
(One night can't hurt, right?)
"Okay," you breathe out, and Brittany looks at you, almost like she's surprised you said yes but you don't really take notice.
Instead you step forward, your hands lifting to one side of her hip, fingers pinching the top of the zip whilst the back of your knuckles brush against soft skin, making Brittany suck in a deep shaky breath. You meet her eye as you unzip her skirt, the sound echoing loudly in the bathroom and you feel your breath hitching as you drop your hands, because you're close enough that your hands skim down the sides of her thighs, and it both makes you shudder.
With her skirt now pooled around her feet, she begins undressing you slowly as you to do her, both your touches gentle and smiles soft. Your eyes never break, not once, and you feel this intimacy that grips your chest and fills you with warmth because you've never had anyone look at you the way Brittany does. You've never seen that kind of adoration in someone's eyes, you've never felt the affection in a single touch, and honestly, you never thought you would.
You thought that's what fairy tales and novels and movies were for. You thought this didn't exist, and were a figment of people's imaginations to just make up for the fact that life is sad and painful, and to distract you from that fact that you're born the same way you die; alone.
You never thought you'd see it in real life. You never thought it'd literally be within your reach.
Yet here it is, in the form of your best friend. It's staring right at you, adoring and loving and affectionate, with no qualms and no fears, because it's sure. It's definite. It's something that can't be changed.
And honestly? That fucking terrifies you.
But you don't want to think tonight. You don't want to ruin this because it just feels... it just feels right. So no matter how many questions that brings up, how much you know you're going to think about this for days—fucking weeks—to come, you just push it away. You toss it to the back of your mind and lock it up because all you're aware of in this moment, is how much you want Brittany. How much you want to hold her, to kiss her, to show her how much she means to you. Even if you're not sure how much that is.
Soon enough, you're both standing naked in front of each other, and you know if you were the person you were a few months back, you'd be drooling over the sight of Brittany's bare body before you, but now... you just continue staring her in the eye, because there's so much more to Brittany than her appearance. There's so much depth behind a single look and you know later, you're going to hate yourself for being able to see it, being able to feel it, because you know somewhere deep inside that there's more than what you're both leading on; than what you're both verbalizing.
You manage to tear your gaze away from her body as you reach into the shower to feel the water, hoping it'll be the right temperature still, but the second your arm's inside, hands are grabbing your waist and you're stumbling inside, Brittany climbing in behind you. A light laughter bursts from your lips as you brace yourself on the back wall, the stream of water now covering you from head to foot, soaking you and you splutter, shaking your head like a dog would to rid the water from your eyes before you twirl around to find Brittany giggling too.
"I wasn't ready," you pretend to whine and pout. "I could've been burned or frozen."
She grabs your hands, tugging you closer until you're both directly under the stream, your bodies pressing together. Your skin flares at the touch, sparks sizzling beneath your skin and you feel the effect she has on you shoot through around your body until you're tangling your fingers through hers and letting out a small hmm of appreciation. You love being intimate with her in a non-sexy way. Not that you have a problem with the sexy way either because fuck, you totally do love that too, so much so that as you're thinking about it, you can feel the blood rushing to your groin and your member stiffening against Brittany's thigh.
"Stop being so melodramatic," she giggles in response and tilts her head back against the water, looking like something out of an exotic shampoo commercial as she exposes her neck and you don't even bother trying to resist as you lean forward, pressing your lips to the hollow of her throat once before pulling back. She tilts her head down, her eyes a dazzling blue and you know that both of you know that wasn't a gesture out of arousal, it was just an affectionate one and you both share a soft smile because you don't need to explain your reasons behind it; your heart quickening its beat is enough.
"Shampoo?" You whisper and her brow momentarily furrows before you roll your eyes playfully and drop one of her hands, reaching to grab the shampoo off the little shelf to your left.
She gets it after that, her face reddening at her own confusion and you find it nothing but adorable as you rock on to the balls of your feet, kissing her once, softly, on the lips, before urging her to spin around with a circle of your hand. She shuts the glass shower door since apparently you forgot to (but Brittany's freaking naked so it's not like you can be blamed for a mind blank) and you shift closer, your stomach leaping as Brittany peers over her shoulder at the same time you squirt a handful of shampoo into your palm because that's just the effect she has when she looks at you.
"What?" You murmur, self-consciously, but Brittany just shrugs at the same time you begin massaging the shampoo into her hair. "Step back," you add and she does so, tipping her head back into the stream a little so you can get the right sud consistency. "Okay, now forward." She does so and you scratch lightly at her scalp, biting down hard on your bottom lip and pinching your thighs together at the low moan that comes from her at the movement. "Now get under again," you command softly and you repeat the process all over again after washing out the shampoo with conditioner, all the meanwhile ignoring the feel of her slippery skin pressed against your own.
You're pretty sure you're hard already, if the twitching you can feel going on between your thighs is anything to go by, but you don't feel the need to get off hit you because this isn't like that. This isn't shower sex, and it's weird because it's so intimate. It's such an intimate thing to do but you feel nothing but comfortable, even though your nerve endings feel like they're on fire, and it's not because of the hot water pounding down on your skin.
"Your turn," Brittany utters quietly and you slide your hands out her hair, realizing you were just holding her and staring, and she giggles before setting her hands on your bicep and twisting you around. Her touch is gentle and soft, and you lean back into her fingers as they massage your scalp skilfully, your eyes fluttering shut, and you find yourself making the same noises she did a second ago. You're not even the slightest embarrassed, especially not when she presses her front against you, her hardened nipples pronounced against your back and drops a kiss to your shoulder, a spot with no shampoo on it, before she whispers, "Get under."
You do as you're told, and once she's repeated the process with the conditioner and you've both thoroughly washed your hair, you turn around because you want to face her; but when you do, you feel like you're in a movie because everything goes into slow motion. She's not doing anything special, just running her hands through her wet hair, darkened by the water and urging it back over her shoulders, but it feels like something's just been revealed to you that you've tried to hide for so long.
It's like you've crammed it inside a closet, pushing as hard against the doors when it grew too big to keep it inside, but now it's just burst free. It's just burst open and spread everywhere and when you look at her, with shiny skin and eyes so blue they make the Caribbean sea pale in comparison, you feel like you've found something that's been missing the entire time. She's just so beautiful. So perfect, and you can't help but scoff at yourself because you don't know how you didn't see it before.
Though it's as you're seeing her, letting these blinds be pulled away from your eyes, that it hits you. It really hits you, right in the gut, ripping the breath straight from your lungs, for the first time because you know what this means. Yet you freeze. You don't say it and your find your tongue clamped between your teeth to stop you from gasping or blurting out your recent discovery because you can't say it aloud or even verbally acknowledge it. You just can't.
So instead you find yourself focusing on your bodies subconscious movement of stepping forward and wrapping your arms around Brittany's back, the length of your bodies pressing together and her arms snaking around your neck, finding their familiar, comfortable place. She doesn't question the gesture, just buries her face against your wet hair and you tuck your head against her shoulder, closing your eyes because this revelation is too much to take. It can only mean bad things and you don't want it to.
This is good. This is comfortable. You don't want things to change because what if they go wrong? What if your epiphany fucks everything up and you wind up alone and without the one person you really need?
And it seems Brittany must sense the sudden shift in the atmosphere, because her head turns, her lips brushing over the shell of your ear. "What's wrong?"
It comes out as a whisper and you just squeeze your eyes shut tighter, hugging her closer, your fingers clutching to her like your life depends on it.
"Nothing, I—" you croak out and you can feel the heat spiking at your eyes. Fuck it. You don't want to cry. You can't. You gulp thickly, something lodging in your throat. "Just nothing," you repeat, and Brittany doesn't pry anymore, instead holds you closer like she's trying to meld your bodies together.
And you two just stand there, holding each other as the water beats down around you, and you can't help but fight the knowledge that you've never felt so safe in your life.
God, you think and press your lips hard against the edge of her collarbone, just where it dips beneath her skin.
You're in so much trouble.
/
About ten minutes later, the water begins to turn cold on your skin and you urge Brittany out the shower, switching off the shower before climbing out with her. She's reaching into the top of the cupboard, on the balls of her feet when your own feet touch the cool bathroom tiles, and you take a moment to marvel in the perfection that is her body. How her shoulder blades flex and how drops of water cascade down her back, sliding down the center of her spine to the two dimples in her lower back.
She really is the most painfully beautiful thing you've ever seen in your life.
By the time you've stopped gazing, Brittany's already stepping close and wrapping her arms back around you, the towel clutched in her hands so it covers your body. You hold it close, taking it from her and you give her a grateful smile as she covers herself with her own towel, drying herself, dabbing the white, fluffy towel over her body to pick up the water droplets lingering on her smooth, pale skin.
You don't bother drying yourself, or rather you can't tell yourself to because you're just obsessed with watching Brittany. Your revelation has left you in this strange, hovering state and it's like you're trying to fight what you know to be true by seeking something that you know won't appear. There's nothing wrong with Brittany, literally nothing that you can try to focus on to make you push your epiphany away, and even though you don't care right now because the discovery has left you with this light, fluffy feeling inside your chest, you know later on, it's going to hit you hard. It's going to hit you hard and it's going to hit you good.
Damn. You really are in so much shit.
"So, we should probably be getting to bed," Brittany says and breaks the silence that had grown between you, and you lift your vision, peering up through your eyelashes to find her standing there, mostly dry, with the towel tucked beneath her arms and covering her body. You try to speak, but you find your throat has grown thick and so you swiftly give up, replacing your words with a few bobs of your head.
She offers you a smile that doesn't reach her eyes, and averts her gaze to the floor as she brushes past you, opening the door and stepping outside. You quickly catch up with her, and you don't know why she's suddenly turned a little cold because you haven't even done anything wrong. Though you suppose that might actually be the reason.
"Wait," you blurt out through a whisper, following her out into the hallway and looking from side to side to make sure none of the bedroom doors are opening, revealing a family member that'd catch you and Brittany like this, both in towels. You're pretty sure that'd be hard to explain as you and her are supposedly just 'best friends.' "Are you okay?"
Brittany watches over you for a second, her eyebrows twitching. "I'm fine," she breathes, a smile growing across her lips. "Just tired," she lies.
"Right." You try to believe her but you just don't. You know her too well, and you sort of hate yourself for that right now. Things would be easier if you didn't know her so well. "Well, goodnight then."
Blue eyes bore into your brown one for a long moment before you turn away, willing yourself to just walk into your room and put something physical, like the bedroom door, between you because you're so close to just grabbing her and spilling the truth; but before you can even take a step, Brittany grabs your hand and spins you around, stepping close and angling her head to kiss you softly. You're shocked, stunned by the feel of her lips pressed against yours because you were sure she was being a little off with you, but clearly she's not if she's cupping your cheek, stroking her thumb across the skin and smiling against your lips, and really, you don't care about anything else when she's kissing you.
It lasts for no longer than four seconds, and then she's pulling away and smiling sweetly down at you. "Goodnight, San," she whispers, her voice a little hoarse and eyes a frightening blue.
You swallow, nod and watch her walk away after she squeezes her hands, never leaving yourself until she's behind closed doors.
/
You lie in bed for hours, above the sheets as it's a little warm in this room, and drum your fingers against your abdomen where your hands lie on top of your button down sleep shirt. You don't usually have sleep clothes, preferring boxers and a bra, or even to sleep naked, but you know your family has just walked in unannounced in earlier years, and so you don't really feel like doing that again, so you can deal with a sleep shirt and boxers for a night.
Anyway, you stare at the ceiling, counting away the minutes as they pass because you just can't find the sleep you want. You don't need it because you're wide awake, but you'd like it to come to you at some point as your mind's racing a mile a minute, thoughts of blonde hair, blue eyes and terrifying feelings invading your brain, and you don't want to have to keep thinking about it. All of your thoughts for the past four months have just been Brittany, Brittany, Brittany and it's just irritating. They're only growing, increasing with intensity, and you hate that you can't figure anything out because you're just too scared to.
If you just forced yourself to come up with some type of conclusion, you wouldn't have to be putting yourself through this.
Your thoughts are swiftly interrupted by the sound of floorboards creaking right outside your bedroom door, and you bolt upright, back straight as a pole and eyes wide as they lock on to the space between the floor and the door, revealing the smallest slither of light from the bathroom. You must have forgotten to turn it off. Though you're glad you did, because as you stare, your eyes narrowing, you watch a shadow appear outside, a pair of feet casting darkness where light should be and you wait, hushing your own breath as it's loud in your ears as you wait for whoever is outside to come in.
Except they never do.
Moments pass, minutes even, and you don't know who's outside (although you have a pretty good idea who) but they finally disappear, the sound of soft footsteps padding down the carpeted hallway, away from your bedroom. And you can't help yourself as you throw your legs off the side of the bed, push off the mattress with balled fists and creep over to the bedroom room, opening it slowly and wincing when there's a slight creak, before pulling it open and step outside into the hallway.
And that's when you find her. Brittany, tip-toeing back toward her bedroom, wearing small pajama shorts and a tank top, and you feel yourself smiling and calling her name before you know it. "Britt?"
Brittany spins around, eyes wide like she's been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
"Britt, are you okay?" You whisper, your eyes meeting hers and she looks behind her, back toward her bedroom door, hesitating in an answer.
"Yeah, I just—" she starts and warily glances back at you, rubbing her left hand up her right forearm where it lies straight against her side. You shift, curious to the nervous gesture. "I couldn't sleep," she continues and you tilt your head to the side, unable to fight the idea that maybe she couldn't sleep for the same reason you couldn't. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."
"You didn't," you blurt out, pulling your lips down and baring your teeth at the volume of your voice. Shit. You need to keep it down. "Whoops," you let out through a soft chuckle and Brittany grins at you. "I mean, you didn't wake me," you repeat, this time with your voice low and you take one step down the hallway, your eyes flicking to the left as if to look back to your bedroom. "Do you wanna..."
You can't seem to finish your sentence, the words trailing off because you want to ask her to come and sleep with you, but you also know with your latest epiphany that you probably shouldn't. You don't want to make things more complicated than they are, even though you're not sure they could be at this moment, but you just don't want to run the risk. You've protected yourself and Brittany for too long, tried to make this work for too long, just to give up and give in.
Though you think she already knows what you want to ask, what you want, because she comes toward you slowly, stopping about a meter away from you and stares you in the eye, wetting her lips and sucking them into her mouth, her brows creasing and face twisting in thought.
"Do I want to what, San?" She asks, and you lift your head, your heart wanting nothing more than to blurt out pretty much everything you want, but instead you just finish off what you were originally planning. It's easier than revealing the truth.
"Do you want to come and sleep with me?" You cock your head to the right quickly, gesturing to your door. And you know if it were any other person, you'd correct your words, stumble over the letters and splutter because you don't mean sleep with me as in fuck me, you mean, lying in each others arms and holding each other until you both fall asleep; but Brittany knows you well. Too well, you think, and she just nods sheepishly, the corners of her lips tugging up into a nervous smile and she reaches out with a shaking hand which you take, sliding your fingers through hers.
You let your eyes linger on hers for a long moment, counting the seconds and breaths you both take before you guide her into your bedroom, opening the door and letting her enter first before you follow her. Your hands stay clutched together the entire time, fingers locked around each other and you feel her stroke over the back of your thumb as you slide into bed, pulling her with you until both of you are lying on your sides, facing each other.
And in this moment, it feels like you should say something. It feels significant for some reason, a reason you know not of, but you don't want to ruin it by asking. You don't want to break the gaze, change the way Brittany's staring at you like she never wants to stop, and so you let yourself revel in those blue eyes roaming around your face, drinking you in like it'll be the last time. Though you suppose it is; after all, you two are going back to normality when you leave Miami.
You never realized until now how much you don't want that.
Because it's peaceful lying here quietly in the dark with Brittany. It makes you forget about everything bad in the world, and makes you think of a bright, happy future. It makes you forget about nosy best friends and questioning glares. It makes you forget about having to hide the lingering touches, and having to pretend like you're not making eye as Brittany in a way you never thought you would. It just makes you forget everything, and as you watch Brittany watch you, you slowly become aware of something in the air changing between you; because for the first time, you're seeing what you know to be true, reflected in her eyes.
It makes you gasp, and you want to acknowledge it out loud, but you can't. Just like you couldn't in the shower. It just makes everything too real, and so instead you shift your head closer on the pillow, your arm winding around Brittany's back and pressing against the small of her back to urge your bodies together, and you shift that little bit closer until you're so close to Brittany that your noses bump and lips brush as you say, "Night, Britt."
She smiles, you can feel it, and it's soft and warm and you close your eyes to think about it at the same time she eliminates the gap between you, kissing you carefully, gently, her hand coming up to rest against your cheek. You don't try to shift, to open your mouth and taste more of Brittany, instead just choose to kiss her, lips against lips and feel your heart thump loudly against your chest, matching the rhythm hers has set as the hand on her hip pulls her even closer to you.
Though soon enough you feel Brittany's lips getting sloppy against yours, the kiss turning sleepy and so you break away, craning your neck to press your lips to her forehead before you both settle back down on the pillow, the tips of your noses squashed together and warm exhalations of breath exchanging between you.
"Night, San," she whispers, and you drop a kiss to her hair as your arms tug her further into you, your bodies so close together you might just melt into one another, but you say nothing in response.
And this time, with Brittany in your arms, you find sleep easily.
/
You wake up at some point in the night. You don't know why because the branch of the oak tree isn't scratching against the window pane like it did last night, and there's no-one padding down the hallway to use the bathroom. There's no real reason, and you go to shift a little when you find Brittany snuggled on your chest, her head resting on it, ear pressed to the space below your collarbones and you smile to yourself, stroking a hand delicately over her hair. It's late, or early depending on your frame of mind, but whatever, it's still dark and so you don't want to wake her with your touches so you just lie there, making sure not to jolt her as you think of the weekend.
It really has been amazing. You don't know why because you don't usually feel like this about visiting your family but you think it's not that part of it, but rather the Brittany part of being here that's made you enjoy it so much. She's done what you told her she'd do and save you from complete boredom, but she's done more than that. She's just made it a really nice weekend, especially with this evening's beach walk and honestly? You don't want it to end.
There's no complications here and no quizzical or really fucking nosy best friends with the name Quinn to interfere. There's no narrowed glares or questions thrown at you, you've just been accepted what's going on and even though it's lead you to a few realizations, you can't help but think that they're going to help you at some point in time. Maybe not soon, but in the future, you know they're going to be good for you. For both you and Brittany, in fact.
This weekend's just been relaxing, and comfortable, and you're kind of dreading going back home tomorrow. Back to reality and back to pretending.
(Although you're not really sure what you're pretending to do or be.)
As your hand strokes over her hair again, you feel her stir and mumble something incoherent against your chest. Your entire body tenses, the fear of waking her up spiking against your skin and you try not to breathe because you don't want to disturb her. Though as you continue to still, you pick up the sound of her regulated breathing and realize she's already awake. Shit. You didn't mean to wake her up and you don't want her to know you were awake.
"Hmm," she hums sleepily, tilting her head back against your shoulder.
You manage to pull your head and twist it enough to glance down at her, meeting her eye. She's a little groggy, you can tell by the way she's squinting and blinking purposefully and you smile to yourself because she's just so adorable. Before you know it, your hand is stroking over her face, the backs of your fingers grazing over her cheek and the tips of your finger running down the length of her nose, and after you've finished, and after you pull your eyes back to meet hers, you find something behind the blue that makes you take a staggered breath.
You don't know what it is, you've seen it before a few times, but you've never seen is this... intense. It feels like it could climb out, wrap you up in an embrace and never let you go. It feels like it could hold you forever, the softness warming you for eternity and you wouldn't mind at all. And that could be why you don't even hesitate in leaning down and kissing her, but then again it could be because you just want to, or because you haven't kissed her in the way you've wanted to in over twenty-four hours and for the past four months that's never happened before.
It could be a number of things that make you kiss her, but the second your lips touch hers, you don't even care what the reason is, because you're kissing her and she's kissing you back.
Your lips fit together perfectly, yours taking in her bottom one and sucking gently and you feel her shift, pushing herself higher to your level as both her hands find the space beside your head, her body lifting and knees bracketing your hips. Your hands move to her waist, helping her as she settles down and you feel her lips stretch into a lazy grin, yours mirroring it, as your bodies press together, your hands sliding around her and smoothing up and down her back, moving the fabric of her shirt with it.
You want more of her, you can feel it curdling in your groin and you know by the way her hips are rolling over you, making you bulge and grow against her, that she wants it to, but it's like there's something stopping you. It's like there's a barrier because you know that since you realized that you... well, since you just realized, if you sleep with her then you're acknowledging what you feel and acting with them instead of acting with your dick like you usually do. You never use your mind when having sex, you never think with it and yet here you are, kissing the most gorgeous woman on the planet and feeling your mind reacting to her as well as your body.
Though it's stupid to think you could stop yourself from giving in, because her lips are just too soft, her touch too powerful and when she kisses you harder, pushing your head further back into the pillow, something transpires between you, much like it did earlier when you were staring at her and you know you're completely powerless to resist.
So you let your feelings and your body take a hold, letting them make the movements instead of your conscious thoughts and your hands lower down her back, curving over her ass and gripping it, aiding her in her rocks against you. She grins against your mouth immediately, and you can't help but muffle a giggle against hers before your hands graze down the back of her thighs, skimming across the softness of her skin. It makes her shudder, and you can't help but wonder if you have the same effect on her that she does on you because that reaction says you do.
Somehow, that single thought makes the heat flush across your skin, and your hands move back up on their own accord, slipping beneath the hem of her sleep shorts to grab at the flesh of her ass, fingers kneading gently as your tongue strokes into her mouth in the way she deserves; with adoration and care. She moans against you, her hands coming up to your cheeks and she pulls back for air, but takes the next kiss breathlessly and tips your head back shortly after, kissing a path down your jaw and neck, reverent at first but then urgent and open-mouthed.
Her kisses trail down your skin, her tongue poking out to taste you and you groan, your back arching involuntarily off the bed as your hands slip accidentally from her shorts, but find their grip again on top of her thighs, your fingers digging into her skin. But before you can let your hands trail up between her thighs, and cup her over her shorts, she's grabbing your hands and pinning them either side of your head, dipping her head and licking over your throat and collarbones, teeth grazing lightly.
It shoots arousal through your body, and you can't help but pant her name, "Britt, Britt, Britt," over and over until she's coming back up to your level and you're lifting your head off the pillow to kiss her hard on the mouth, trying to show her that you need her. Your dick's aching to be inside her and the heat blooming over your skin is almost overwhelming, but you still need and want to be able to show her what she means to you because you pretty much suck at words.
And you think she knows that, because she smiles against your mouth and shifts a little higher up, pressing her core right above yours and pressing down with her hips until you're hissing against her lips and she's tugging your bottom one between her teeth and flicking her tongue against it. The sensations are all too much, arms being pinned against the bed, hips grinding down against you and Brittany's lips moving against yours softly, urging you into a kiss that's way too gentle and soft considering her movements, but you don't care. All you can tell from this is that she wants you, that she needs you, and you need her too.
She pulls back, staring you in the eye and your breath hitches at the dark blue staring back at you. There are so many reasons why you shouldn't be doing this, most of them being because your family are down the hall, but also because you think both of you know that deep inside, this isn't just sex. Something about this weekend has flicked a switch inside you, inside her, too, and it feels like every gesture means so much more than before.
That's why you think when her hands slide down from yours, fingers tracing along the inside of your forearm and across your shoulders to your chest, resting there, and when you prop yourself up on your elbows a little, minimizing the space between your faces and then pressing your lips to hers, once, softly, that something changes in the air between you. Changes right here and now, and both of you just accept it because you realize there's no point in trying to fight it. Why should you?
So you kiss her once more, and when your eyes avert down to her hands on your chest, the same hands now slowly working the buttons of your sleep shirt, slowly and shakily, you breathe out unevenly because it's already nothing like you two have ever done before. It's not urgent, it's not frantic, or full of animalistic need, it's just caring, and adoring and affectionate. It's just a slow, dragged out movement and you pick up your head, staring up through your eyelashes whilst you listen to your hard breathing matching Brittany's, to meet blue eyes that stare down at you with such certainty you find yourself having to look away to recollect yourself.
You're just so comfortable. You just want this so much. You want her so much, in this way, in this intimate, gentle, manner, and you're so sure of the intimacy that you're positive that if she undressed you and undressed herself, and you two just laid with your bare bodies pressed together, not even necessarily kissing, you'd be one hundred percent content.
Hell, you're sure you could just lie pressed together fully clothed and you'd be content.
Because it's not the sex you want with Brittany. It's the intimacy you want with her.
You watch her undo the buttons to your shirt, admiring her nimble, tender fingers until each side of your shirt falls apart, revealing your bare torso, toned abs, pert nipples and round breasts, and you suddenly feel exposed. You've been naked in front of this girl so many times that you'd need at least twenty pairs of hands to count , but this is different. It's different because she's letting her gaze trail over you like she's trying to memorize every inch of you. She's gazing at you like you're the most perfect thing in the world, and you're so not used to it because she's never really looked at you like this.
You've seen her look at you before sex, her eyes hungry and full of lust, and you've seen a softness in them that you've always tried to figure out, but the second it's appeared, it's disappeared and so you're shocked now as you watch her stare openly with it right there. Literally staring down at you.
"Brittany," you breathe, your voice so low and hoarse that it's foreign to your own ears.
Blue eyes flick up, meeting your brown ones and her hands press palm down against your abdomen, your muscles twitching beneath her touch as soft fingers make their way up toward your breasts, the pads of them rolling over your nipples. Your back arches, hips canting up and your teeth sink into your bottom lip as the single touch sends heat surging across your skin, scorching you in the best way possible and you just let yourself feel it because even though it feels like you're on fire, with her staring down at you like this, her soft gaze roaming over your face and eyes so warm and inviting you just want to sink into them, you find yourself not caring whether you burn.
A quivering breath is pulled from deep within you, and you force yourself to start moving, your hands finally drifting up her thighs, beneath her tank top to her stomach. She bends down, pressing soft kisses to the space above your belly button and your eyes roll back, body jolting at every touch. You can feel the energy and arousal building around both of you, the need and want obvious, and you grab the hem of her shirt, but she quickly sits up and tugs you up by your shoulders into a seated position, locking eyes with you as she pushes the sleep shirt off your shoulders, down your arms and tosses it somewhere in the room behind her.
Then she gazes at you, biting her swollen bottom lip and you suck in a shaky breath as you reach for the hem of her shirt again, sliding your palm up the side of it and brushing the back of your hand over her taut stomach as you urge it over her head, her hair falling in waves around her shoulders once you've removed it and thrown it to join your shirt. And then you're bare chest against bare chest, and your hands map out every inch of her, grazing down her ribs, around to her stomach, up to her breasts and over her shoulders to her shoulder blades. She leans into the touch, her eyes fluttering and you take no hesitation in leaning forward, kissing a path down to her breastbone before skimming over and tracing your tongue around her nipple.
"San," she moans, breathlessly, her hands shooting to the back of your head as you suck the flesh into your mouth, flicking your tongue against her and garnering a rut of her hips. But you just smile against her, your hands sliding down into the back of her sleep shorts to clutch at her ass, kneading her like you did earlier, because you want her to feel everything. You want to show her as much as you can and make her feel so good because that's what she does to you; even without sex. She just makes you feel like the most amazing person in the world and this is your thanks and mirror of that.
Your lips release her nipple with a pop, and you move to her neglected one as you pull her back down on the bed with your hands on her ass, you back now flat against the mattress so you can push her shorts off her. She kicks them off the rest of the way and you stroke over her, making sure to touch every bare piece of her, memorizing it as if it's the last time you'll ever touch her, and she moans in response, her head throwing tilting back to expose her throat.
You take this moment to lean in and kiss her neck, sucking over her pulse point as your hands pull her higher against your body, rocking you until you can feel her wetness dampening the front of your boxers. And then you can't take it anymore and push down your boxers, your mouth still working over her neck as her hands tremble beside your head. Your erection springs free from beneath the fabric as you shift, urging them down and you pull your lips away from Brittany's skin, nudging her jaw with your nose until she glances back at you, your eyes locking and breaths trading.
You're not sure why either of you are hesitating, and you can tell by the way she's looking at you that she's thinking the same thing, but you still just continue to stare as your hand strokes down her stomach, fingertips pressing at the smoothness a centimeter about the place she needs you to be, but then there's that pause again. Her eyes dart between yours, her breath ragged and uneven against your mouth and you lean up to kiss her once, softly, before grabbing yourself between you and guiding it to her most intimate place.
She gasps at the initial contact, her hips jerking back and down hard, and you bite down on your bottom lip as she grabs your free hand, pushing it beside your head and holding it there, your fingers tangling together as her other hand goes between your bodies. Her fingers brush over the back of yours, and you expect her to swat your hand out the way carefully, but instead she wraps her hand around the backs of yours, and you both suck in deep, unsteady breaths as you both run the tip of your cock through her wetness, bumping her clit in a way you know way too well.
But then she's shifting and lifting her hips, and still grasping your hand, she slides you down lower until you're pressed against her entrance, and when she lowers her hips just the slightest, she pulls your hand away and grasps it against your chest, right above your heart, as she does the rest with your eyes still locked and lips almost touching from where her head is hovering over yours. She sinks down on to you, kissing you simultaneously, her tongue licking into your mouth and your eyes almost roll into the back of your head at the feeling of being buried deep inside her, the flexing muscles sucking you in and massaging you rhythmically.
And you're sure, when she pulls back and stares you in the eye so close you can see the silver flecks and her breath stuttered and uneven against your drying lips , that you could be in love with her.
Though your thoughts are swiftly interrupted as she rolls her hips slowly, almost experimentally, and then you're focused on the way you feel as you move inside of her and how she releases the hand you have on her chest to cup the back of your neck and keep your foreheads together, kissing every now and then but not being able to keep up fully from the rocking motions set. You never break eye contact though, holding that thought inside your head because you can't fight how right it feels. How it settles in your gut and how it feels like... home. How it feels like you belong, here with her, and with no-one else.
You've had sex with this girl so many times, you know, but there's something more about this. Something that makes you feel like it isn't just sex.
And that really fucking scares you.
So to distract you from the thoughts, you let your mind go to how she's working your shaft up and down, her eyes struggling to stay open as she slams down on to you, and you slide a hand between your bodies, palm gliding down her abdomen until your fingers reach her clit. Brittany jerks as you roll the pads of them over her in small circles, and you grip her other hand harder, pushing up against it and letting her lean down as you begin moving your own hips, rutting up into her and sliding in and out of her rapidly but gently.
She smiles down at you, her eyes locked on to yours like this is the best thing she's ever felt, and it spurs you on as you thrust into every one of her downward grinds, making sure to keep your fingers in rhythm with the movement. It must spark something inside of her on the third grind, because she begins stroking the small hairs at the nape of your neck as she brings her head down, kissing you in a way that's way too gentle for way her hips are rolling, but you don't care. She's kissing you and moaning into your mouth, and you don't know how she can make you feel so amazing by doing something you've done with many other women, but she's doing it.
After all this time, she still manages to surprise you.
You still don't know how she does it.
"Ugh, Santana," she moans at one particular thrust of your hips, tapping her at the right spot and causing her arms to give out and back to buckle until she's slumped over you, her forehead resting heavily against yours and breaths beating against your mouth. She whines, a sharp whimper pulling from deep within her and you're entire body spreads with goosebumps at the sound. You need to hear it over and over.
So you wrap your arms around her and thrust into her, picking up your pace and feeling the pleasure spark through your body in short electric waves. You've never felt this good with someone else before, and you know as you stare at her, her hands coming up to cup your cheeks as your eyes bore into hers, that you're never going to again. You don't want to even try with anyone else, and despite the heavy pants pushing through your lips, you feel the slight nervous shudder and quiver in your breath.
It feels like that realization coming over you again, hitting you hard in the gut and you slow your movements, pulling out and pushing back in slowly as she tightens around you, your body now rolling in a way that adds the pressure to her clit that was lost when you took control. Your hands slide to her lower back, pushing her lower half harder into you and you use this to bump into her clit repeatedly with the part below your belly button, garnering the most delicious and arousing of sounds.
And even though you want to continue this, to let these sounds take over your body and watch the pleasure as it takes over her face, you feel her tightening around you and you know you're so close.
"Fuck, Brittany," you breathe out, following your words with a groan and a slight increase of your pounding as you press you lips together, kissing her and sucking in her bottom lip to muffle the noises you're making.
You can tell she's close too by the incoherent little squeaks she's producing against your mouth, and it doesn't take much more before her entire body's tensing, walls clenching around you and you listen to the sound of your name pour from her lips in the most heavenly way as her face contorts, her cheeks flush, her eyes squeeze shut and her mouth rests against yours, her breaths invading your mouth as well as her whimpers.
And it's enough, just by the way she's looking at you when she opens her eyes, to push you over the edge; so you buck a little, pushing in one, two more times before her lips covers yours and you're burying yourself as deep as possible, emptying yourself into her and whimpering her name against her mouth like she just did when she came undone.
Brittany's hips are still undulating again and again, rolling against yours and somewhere in the back of your mind, your body is reacting to that and pushing these moans up your throat, but you're too focused on Brittany's kissing you, of her lips against yours and how she's kissing you like she wants to kiss you, not like she has to because you two just slept together. It makes you feel everything at once, too much at once, and you swallow thickly when you part, but only go back to kissing her.
Somewhere along the line, she lifts her hips and you slide out of her, landing with a low wet slapping sound against your stomach, but you're still just too focused and you're sliding your fingers through her hair and locking your heads together, your kiss too, as she strokes her thumbs over the skin of your cheeks. You're so lost in this, in the way it feels like you've just done more than had sex with your best friend, and so you just keep kissing her and let yourself feel what you've held back for so long in the aftermath of your join orgasms.
There's just no point in denying it anymore.
/
It's not really a cliffhanger... I don't think. I don't know. Remember it's unbeta'd and I only skim over it so any mistakes are my own.
But I hope you enjoyed it anyway! Leave a review if you feel like I deserved one. Thank you! :)