Brittany sat quietly on the couch in the living room of the Lopez-Fabray household. She had been impressed the first time she arrived, interested the second, and now she was inquisitive. She loved the dark wood furniture and the soft gray accents. It seemed like such a perfect blend of Santana and Quinn's personalities.
She was thankful for this moment alone, so she could try to stifle the bubbling urge to flirt constantly with the brunette. Brittany really wasn't keeping her professional boundaries up. She knew she couldn't push to fast or she might scare Santana off... and she really had to handle this situation well.
Santana shuffled into the room carrying a box.
"I would really appreciate it if you didn't tell Quinn about this," Santana huffed as she heaved a cardboard box onto the coffee table. Brittany looked up from the box to meet Santana's eyes, she found a small embarrassment mixed with a quiet reserve in them. She was taking a step here and Brittany knew it.
"Your secret stash is safe with me," Brittany smiled and waited, she wouldn't be the one that opened the box, that was Santana's right.
Santana rolled her eyes with a smile, "You make it sound like porn."
She sat down on the couch next to the journalist and took off the cover of the box, setting it under the coffee table. Brittany watched her pull out the first magazine, a copy of The Lead.
"The newest are on this side," she explained, "it gets older as you go back."
"Is that the copy I brought you and Quinn?" Brittany's heart clenched at the idea that Santana had saved her work.
"No, Quinn has that somewhere around the house," Santana blushed a little, "I always buy my own. Seeing it there on the rack... it's kind of like an accomplishment, even if I don't really care for the product."
"Can I?" Brittany gestured to the box and Santana nodded.
"Knock yourself out," she set the magazine aside and picked up the TV remote.
Brittany pulled the next to latest magazine and watched Santana start up her game, setting up her new wireless controller, and logging on under the username, ForwardSlashSnixx.
The opening screen of the game was familiar to Brittany. She remembered spending weekends sitting on a couch watching Artie play the same game. Santana even had one of those headsets that let you talk to the other players. It sat on the coffee table, unused.
"How long had you been working at Clockwork before you started doing the advertising?"
"I had just made department head before St. James got his hands on me," Santana scoffed, "which did wonders for my reputation, let me tell you."
"People thought that it was a inside deal you worked out?" Brittany prodded.
"They thought I was sleeping with him," Santana's nose crinkled in disgust, "I really hate that man."
"He didn't seem very pleasant in the meeting with marketing," Brittany agreed, "I was glad to get out of there when it was over."
"I swear, the stench of pompous dickhead just seeps from his pores."
Brittany shook her head, looking at the screen where Santana's character was running around with a gun.
"Don't tell anyone in the office, but Quinn is angling for his job."
"Really?" that surprised Brittany.
"Yeah, that's why she's been requesting to go to these conferences," she shrugged, shifting lower on the couch and propping her feet up. "She already works so closely to the marketing department because of my situation, people hardly know her real position anyway."
"I bet that works in her favor," Brittany opened another magazine. "That would be great for you if she could pull that off."
Santana sighed, knowing it was a long shot, "Jesse St. James isn't the type to let things sneak up on him. He plays dirty. He has dirt on everyone and loves to use it to his advantage."
Brittany understood her implication. Jesse had something on Santana. She didn't question it, looking back to the magazine in her hands.
She had, of course, seen Santana's cover shots in the woman's office, and in her initial research into her role at Clockwork, but there was just something authentic about holding one of them in her hands. Being able to flip through the pages, and read the sorry excuses for interviews.
No wonder Santana was weary of the media, these articles were clearly more interested in the photos than the three, maybe four, lines of information quoted from Santana about the products. Most of the information was generic blurbs about equipment stats and upgrades supplied from the company. Brittany continued to pull issues out of the box and study the articles. She noticed the products and how Santana was posed with them.
She classified Santana's wardrobe options as sensually professional.
"Kurt picks your wardrobe right?"
"If we can swing it," Santana answered, her eyes never leaving the game, "a lot of the time he meets with the people setting it up and approves of the outfits or whatever, I'm rarely involved until I show up on set."
"By choice?"
Santana nodded, "I don't want to know anything about it, and when I get there I don't want to do anything but get it over with. Get in, get done, get out."
"How long do they usually last?"
"Hours," Santana groaned, "every little thing is an event."
Brittany chuckled at her, continuing through the magazines, she started putting aside her favorites. Pictures that more more artsy than sexual.
Santana continued to play her first person shooter, watching Brittany out of the corner of her eye. She didn't miss the way Brittany was biting her bottom lip, taking absolute care of Santana's work. When her eyes strayed too long, her character payed the price.
"God, who is this guy?" Santana smiled to herself as her character was killed off.
It was an odd reaction for Brittany, who was used to Artie swearing loudly and getting more and more frustrated as every time his character died. If anything, Santana was amused by it. She reached onto the coffee table for the headset and turned it on, setting it around her neck so she could listen to the chatter of the other players.
Brittany wondered why she wasn't partaking in the trash talk like everyone else was. She listened to the voices, just barely able to make out what they were saying.
"Come on Evans, get to the sniper point in the warehouse. I need cover before I can get to Israel's strong hold."
"Evans," Santana smirked pleasantly surprised, finally hearing the name she needed to correlate to the player. She moved her player around the field, ducking into an abandoned warehouse to find her target, grinning when she shot him from behind.
"Mike, I just got taken out by that Snixx lurker."
"Yeah, he's pretty good at this."
"Mike?" she eyed the Latina next to her, "as in Mike Chang? Santana, are you playing with the guys from Clockwork?"
Santana shut off the headset and sent Brittany a sly look, "Yeah, and Evans has killed me three times already."
"But..." Brittany glanced from the headset that Santana never spoke into, to the mischievous look in the brunettes eyes, waiting for Brittany to figure it out, "they don't know it's you?"
Santana shook her head, "Nah, they think Snixx is some guy down in the human resources department. I hear the boys talk about it all the time."
"You're not going to tell them the truth?"
Santana looked baffled at the very idea, "No of course not. Killing them anonymously is like, the best revenge for annoying the crap out of me all week."
"It wouldn't be more satisfying if they knew it was you?"
"They would probably target my character and destroy me if they did," Santana laughed, "this way is better. This is just for me."
Brittany watched her kill off a few more players before someone finally hit her with a large explosive.
"Damn tank," she pouted sarcastically, turning to Brittany and offering her controller, "you want to play?"
"Um," Brittany was surprised at the question. "I don't know how, I wouldn't want to mess up your game stats or whatever."
Santana quirked an eyebrow, "Really? Mess up my ridiculous revenge killing? I don't take it that seriously Brittany, really."
"No, I'm good," Brittany flushed, Santana was so different from Artie who would have never allowed her to play under his username. "I'm not a big fan of the killing thing."
Santana shrugged, going back to her game, "What article are you looking at?"
"The issue of WIRED you did last year," Brittany looked down to the magazine in her lap.
There was a few pictures that pushed the boundaries... just a little.
Dressed in a pencil skirt and heels, her blouse tucked sharply into her skirt and more than enough buttons open... she was standing in front of a desk, one hand on a mouse to a Clockwork desktop computer, the other holding the latest generation of PDA. Looking coyly over one shoulder at the camera, Santana was angled for the perfect display of her feminine curves. Just a shape of her breast, the bend of her hips. Brittany followed her form down to the dainty way she was standing in her heels, one foot popped off the ground...
"That's one of my favorite magazines... when I'm not in it."
Santana looked over before she regenerated again, analyzing the spread with a hard eye. She looked like an idiot, dolled up to hold a shiny new product. She looked back to Brittany and as Santana watched her eyes run over the page, she felt herself swallow dryly, a dull heat coming over her body.
She desperately wanted Brittany's opinion of her.
"This is by far my favorite pictorial so far," the blonde glanced up at Santana from under her bangs with a rosy flush spread over her cheeks, "it reminds me of one of those classic pin-ups, with your foot up like that, and how your kind of surprised."
Santana's reaction to this was taking a turn for the unexpected. She should feel violated, that Brittany would sit here and looking at her in the most provocative poses that she's shot in months but all she could feel was flattered.
She chuckled dryly to herself, faking bitterness to keep from turning into a blushing mess. She went back to her game, "And isn't that just what every girl wants to hear?"
Brittany didn't miss the unstable edge to Santana's tone.
"Don't be like that," Brittany coaxed next to her, "you look beautiful."
Santana held her controller tighter to keep her fingers from shaking, she took a small calming breath and stood, "I um... gonna grab a beer, you want one?"
Brittany licked her lips absently as she continued looking through the magazine, "Please."
"Wait!"
Santana's thumbs stumbled over her joysticks, sending a confused glance to the blonde that had interrupted her, "What?"
"Don't run past that building," Brittany pointed at the screen with the hand that was holding her beer, "the creepy one on the left. Don't do it."
"If I want to get to the helicopter, I have to," Santana hesitated for just a moment before moving her character into the open at a sprint.
"But there's always a—"
She didn't get to finish before Santana was shot down by a hidden sniper.
"...sniper in that building," Brittany finished with a giggle.
Santana stared at the screen, unbelieving. "How did you know there was a sniper there?"
"There's always a sniper there," Brittany turned a page in the magazine she was looking at slowly, Artie was always killed in that spot too. "I really like your early work."
"Thanks," Santana mumbled.
"This one especially," she held up the picture for Santana.
"That's one of Tina's shots," Santana smiled, oddly proud.
"She's great at what she does," Brittany admitted, "how long have you known her?"
"Almost as long as I've known Quinn," Santana's fingers manipulated the controller, her arms moving more liberally with her movements with the more alcohol she drank.
Brittany liked this Santana a lot, loose and care free, she either hadn't realized, or didn't mind, the blonde slowly inching her way over to her side of the couch.
"I think this dress is really pretty," Brittany leaned a little closer to show her the picture, their shoulders brushing lightly.
Santana glanced at the picture as her character ducked behind a large piece of rubble. "They keep me in dresses as much as possible."
"Is there a reason for that?"
"Blazers are too butch."
Brittany nearly spit out the beer in her mouth, coughing into her fist. Santana laughed, nudging the blonde's shoulder with her own, "You alright there?"
"Fine," she waved it off, "you just caught me off guard."
Santana grinned, she had just killed Jacob Israel again, but she was prouder of being able to make Brittany laugh.
Brittany caught her breath, and took another sip of her beer, "Even in a blazer, I would never peg you as butch."
Her words hung in the air for a moment, Santana's character remained unmoving on the screen in front of them. It was the definitive sound of her words that excluded the possibility that she was speaking hypothetically.
Santana flushed deeply, and Brittany watched her eyes skate around the room, "You think I'm gay."
It was so odd to say it out loud. If they talked about it, then it would add such a weight to the small things that could have been brushed off before. Would Brittany think she was checking her out every time she appreciated an outfit? Would she take her common courtesies, like holding the door open for her, as flirting?
"Am I wrong?"
Santana took a small breath through her nose, "Just because I hate most of the men I work with, doesn't mean I'm gay."
"Am I wrong?" Brittany repeated quietly.
Santana shook her head shortly, her eyes falling to her lap. She could feel a constricting pressure tighten around her chest, feeling Brittany's eyes on her. She waited for the reassuring comment that people felt obligated to say at that point.
Something like, "That's cool, I don't have a problem with it, one of my best friends is gay."
Brittany pulled her feet up on the couch, tucking them under herself. One of her arms snaked around the back of the couch, and if she wanted to, should could... maybe touch Santana's hair.
"I remember my first girlfriend."
The Latina heard a smile in Brittany's voice as she spoke, but she was too nervous to look up and confirm it.
"Her name was Rebecca, and she was cute, but a little... out there."
"Why didn't it work out?" Santana took a steady breath, the tension in her chest easing. Brittany wasn't just telling her it was alright, she was telling Santana that they had something in common.
"We got accepted into different colleges and didn't want to do the distance thing. She's married now, with two kids."
"That's cool," Santana fidgeted with her controller awkwardly, "one of my best friends is married."
"Oh yeah?" Brittany teased, "that's cool."
Santana licked her lips, the flush still on her cheeks, she wasn't sure what she was supposed to say next, talk about her own first love?
"Your guy is about to die."
"Huh?"
Santana's eyes flickered back to the screen just in time to watcher her character die again. She snorted, "I'm doing horrible tonight, you sure you don't want to play?"
"Yeah," Brittany shifted a little, eyes running along Santana's profile, "I'd rather just watch."
"Why does this have to be so early?"
Brittany wanted to ask the same question, but that would have hardly been professional. She did smile when Kurt rolled his eyes at the woman that had asked the question.
"Really Santana?" he turned in his seat to look at the Latina from the passengers seat of Quinn's car. "You are the one that wanted it to start earlier so you can get it over with sooner."
"I don't remember saying anything like that," Santana frowned dramatically. "When and where did this alleged discussion take place?"
"In your office," Kurt's eyebrows furrowed, he wasn't sure if she was being sarcastic or not.
"Was I working on something else?" she asked. The glint in her eyes told Brittany she was having fun with him. "You know I don't listen to a thing you say when I'm working."
"I've noticed," Kurt huffed and turned back to the front. "Maybe if you would start paying attention, you would know why we're all awake so early in the morning."
Santana sent Brittany a smirk and whispered, "That's better than coffee."
She stifled a giggle and watched the scenery pass by around her. Just outside the city, was a little farther than she had originally thought. She really didn't mind though, the drive was comfortable, and the banter amusing. It didn't take them much longer to get to the studio. Brittany climbed out of the car and followed them into the large building. At first she was surprised at how spacious the lobby way, the surrounding walls decorated with large prints of what Brittany assumed to be Tina's work. A secretary waved at them and picked up her phone.
"I'll let Tina know you've arrived."
"Thank you, Ashley," Kurt and Quinn made their way to the reception desk and started talking with the woman behind the counter. Their natural interactions gave Brittany one more reason to think that this place was frequented by the Clockwork employees.
She took the opportunity to look around the prints on the walls. Tina seemed to favor black and whites, but there was a few in full color and sepia tones. She was drawn to a particularly somber black and white of a ballet dancer, finding herself walking over to study it closer.
A woman walked into the lobby to greet them from the back, "Hey guys, hope the drive wasn't too bad."
Kurt was the first break off from the group, embracing the Asian woman with a quick hug, "Of course not, this early in the morning, no one is even alive."
"Such a drama queen."
Brittany flinched, she hadn't realized Santana was so close to her, lingering just shy of her left shoulder, looking at the same picture that caught Brittany's eye.
"Tina," Quinn was the next in line for a hug, "it's been too long."
"I'm sure Santana will disagree with you," Tina met the brunette's eyes from across the lobby, Brittany looked back at the picture to keep from over-analyzing it.
"Whatever," Santana sent back, she watched her friends start to catch up with each other. "Britt, follow me."
Brittany looked at her with a puzzled expression, "What?"
"Quick!" Santana smirked with an excited gleam in her eye, glancing over her shoulder quickly to make sure her friends weren't looking before taking the blonde's hand and pulling her towards a door leading into the main gallery.
"Are we running away?" she giggled, caught up in Santana's small burst of silly energy, and the fact that she was holding her hand.
"I couldn't run from them if I tried," Santana chuckled. "No, I just wanted to show you my favorite picture."
Brittany let herself be pulled deeper into the gallery, leading her through the displays and exhibits. A buzz of warmth shooting through her, being alone in the quiet place, escaping from prying eyes, weaving though the dim rooms, holding this small hand, Brittany was so happy.
Santana brought her to a photo and the look on her face, the way her eyes widened as if seeing it for the first time, Brittany knew this was her favorite.
It was a panoramic picture of a woman sitting at the bar of a diner. She was drinking a cup of coffee, reading the news paper, a briefcase at her feet. A few feet away, a waitress was talking an order from a mother and her two children sitting at a booth.
It was entitled, "What can I get you today?"
"She's pretty good right?" Santana's eyes skated between the women on the photo, each one captured in a particularly different role. She wasn't sure which one she would rather be.
"It's incredible Santana," Brittany's eyes moved from the picture to Santana, still all too aware that they were holding hands.
"Yeah," Santana glanced around, "she does people mostly. She loves shooting people, but sometimes she dabbles in cityscapes and artsy urban stuff."
"If I did this for a living," Brittany gestured widely to the photos along the walls, "I would like to take pictures of people too, I always prefer to write about people, if I can."
"She's a master at being in the room without making you feel like there's someone there waiting for you to pose," Santana ran her finger along the wall next to a photo of a few children in the park, "she's just... there, and takes the most beautiful candid photos."
There was a soft candor to Santana's voice, truly in awe of another woman's talent. Brittany watched her study a photo tilting her head slightly to match the off center angle of the shot, a few strands of her dark hair fell across her neck. Brittany wanted to reach over and brush them away.
"She's like a ninja," Santana smirked, finding herself clever.
"I resent that, Santana."
They turned, finding the owner of the establishment standing not three feet away.
Santana dropped Brittany's hand smoothly as she leaned over to the blonde and stage-whispered, "What did I tell you? Ninja."
Tina rolled her eyes, and pulled the brunette into a tight hug. She didn't miss the way Santana readily returned the physical contact. After a moment Tina pushed her back to hold Santana at arms length giving her a once over, "Did you get dressed up just for me?"
"Hey now, you said you wanted me raw," Santana shrugged glancing down at herself, in sweats and a comfortable hoodie, her hair was up in a loose bun. "It's not like you haven't seen me worse than this."
"That's true," Tina smiled, her eyes sliding to the blonde standing next to her friend, "you must be Brittany."
Her tone, and the way Santana glanced away, suggested that they had spoken about her before. Brittany wasn't sure what preconceived ideas Tina might have of her, but something about it felt like a challenge, and Brittany wasn't about to back down.
"I am," Brittany extended her hand and Tina took it for a steady shake, "Brittany Pierce, journalist. You must be Tina."
The woman Santana had referred to as a friend, someone she held a shine of respect for in the look of her eyes as she talked about her. Brittany knew that most of her favorite pictorials of Santana, were taken by Tina. Brittany had to admit she respected the woman.
"I am," she repeated with a smile in her tone, "Tina Cohen-Chang, photographer."
"By far, my favorite photographer," Santana added, she chuckled when Tina rolled her eyes.
"Your flattery will get you no where, we're still doing all the sets and all the outfits Clockwork requested."
Santana's face fell for a second before she resigned herself to suffer through the photo shoot, "You can't blame me for trying."
"I can, actually," Tina took her by the arm and pushed her towards the front of the studio, "go get ready, I want to start on time."
Santana glanced between her and Brittany, a little hesitant to leave.
"You're not coming with?"
"I don't need to be there until you're ready for make up," Tina laughed, realizing the reason for Santana's hesitation. "Don't worry, I'm just going to show her around."
"I'd like that," Brittany smiled, keeping Tina's eyes for a moment. "Really Santana, we'll be right there."
"Don't be too long," Santana eyed them both, still hesitant.
"Santana!" Kurt called from the other room. "We need you back here."
"Coming," she gave Tina one last warning look and Brittany a soft smile, before she turned towards the main studio.
"This is a really pretty photo," she looked towards the photo of the women in the diner.
"Thank you," Tina's voice was sincere, she took a moment to remember taking it. "I've seen some of your work. You take all of the photos that accompany your articles, right?"
"I do," Brittany flushed, it seemed that Tina had put just as much research into her as she had into Tina. "It's just snap shots with a Nikon."
"You have an eye for a candid," she smiled. "That picture of Santana at the convention... I really liked it."
"Thank you, but I know it's total amateur compared to your stuff."
"Let me give you a tour of the studio," Tina took a step towards another door, "then we'll go find Santana and the rest of them."
"Alright," Brittany followed her back through the main gallery. "Are all of these yours?"
"Not all, but most," she explained, "I have a few freelancers working with me, I show their best work and they can rent out the studio if they want."
"This is all very impressive," Brittany admitted, "you're not in a very forgiving business."
Tina laughed at that, "You're right, it is kind of hard to make it as a photographer. We're a dime a dozen."
"How did you make it?" Brittany followed Tina into another room, this one full of the cityscapes Santana had mentioned.
"Actually..." Tina watched Brittany appreciate the work around her, "Santana was my big break."
She almost smiled at the blue eyes that shifted towards her instantly, a deep focus in them.
"We had been close in college," she shrugged, continuing without needing a prompt, "I graduated, moved to the city, and ultimately we lost touch. I was working as a travel agent and taking wedding photos on the side. She was making her way up the ranks of Clockwork."
Brittany dropped all pretense of looking at more photographs to listen.
"She calls me up one day..." Tina paused reliving the moment. "She told me she needed a photographer."
"You were the photographer for her first cover shot," Brittany had found that out after going through the magazine's with Santana. The parallel wasn't lost on her, she knew that Santana was doing the same thing with her career in journalism.
Tina nodded, "Things really took off after that. It was such a huge break for me, to be called in as a freelance photographer to a popular magazine. I'm still not sure how she managed to get them to approve it, because trust me, I was in way over my head."
"Those photos were brilliant."
Tina laughed, a flattered smile on her face, "Tell Santana that, she's such a perfectionist."
"She does hold herself to this impossible standard," Brittany mused out loud. "At first I thought she's trying to prove herself to everyone else, like the people at Clockwork... but sometimes... I think she's trying to feel like she's worth something."
Tina studied her, and Brittany held her gaze with a small trace of defiance.
Finally, Tina's lips quirked into a smile, her eyes offering a pleasant surprise, and Brittany felt like she had passed some sort of test. "Come on, let's go find her."
