Title: Waiting On The World To Change [Part Fourteen]
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 9.5k
Author's Note: Thank you to my beta, she's awesome as always.
Santana has all the intention of kissing Brittany as they both lean in towards each other. But apparently Brittany has different ideas and pulls away to peck her on the cheek; leaving her lips to linger over her skin a little longer than necessary. A flush of rejection pours through her, and she feels her face redden as her eyes flicker down to her boots.
"I'm going to go and get a drink," Brittany whispers, separating their bodies a little more, but still keeping her arms around Santana's neck and swaying them to the song playing overhead. "You want one?"
Feeling a little more than embarrassed, Santana shakes her head but then switches and nods. "I'll get it," she offers.
"You sure?" Brittany pulls her lips into a small smile, apparently oblivious to Santana's emotions.
"Yep," Santana drops her hands from the other girl's waist and tucks her thumbs into her belt loops as turns and heads towards the kitchen. Brittany remains in her place, but her body doesn't continue to move to the music like it did a minute ago and Santana tries not to think that maybe she gave the girl the cold shoulder. In all fairness, though, it was given to her first. Not that she's being childish and giving as good as she gets, but yeah.
She passes Rachel who's still talking to Puckerman, and offers him a small smile in lieu of a greeting; but makes no attempt to even acknowledge Berry's presence. The kitchen is relatively full when she gets in there, and just as luck would have it, Quinn's standing there, butt resting on the lip of the table and rim of the cup between her teeth as one arm is tucked under the other. Her eyes are narrowed, and jaw clenched as she focuses intently on something; the color of her hazel orbs burning with something Santana thinks to be indignation.
"Are you okay?" She asks, not bothering with a 'hello' as she leans to grab two cups on the other side of Quinn. But the blonde doesn't move, and Santana has to stretch her body forward to reach them; rolling her eyes because that's so Quinn.,
"Fine," Quinn snaps back, gnawing on the lip of the cup and twisting it around with her hand.
Santana wants to call bullshit, but as her mouth drops open to make a witty or sarcastic comment, she finds what Quinn's staring at. An amused smile tugs at her lips and she cocks a brow as she grabs the bottle of vodka and a carton of orange juice. They're the only things here that are unopened, and God knows there's probably some jackass here who thinks it's funny to spike the uncapped drinks. She pours in a good amount of orange juice into the cup, then adds two shots of vodka on top of each to allow it to filter through and mix properly.
(Her uncle is a bartender in New York and taught her how to mix drinks properly when she was 12.)
Screwing the lids back onto both the vodka and the juice, Santana picks up the cups and turns; resting her ass onto the table in the same way Quinn is. Her eyes lock onto Quinn's target and she smirks as she brings one of the drinks to her lips and tips it back.
"Jealous?"
Quinn whips her head around. "What?" She hisses.
"Puck and Frodo," she stretches out her pointer finger, the others still curled around the cup to point at Berry. "Are you jealous?"
"No," Quinn snaps back, turning her attention back to the two people in the living room.
Santana arches a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "So, why are you giving him the evil eye?"
"I'm giving her the evil eye," the blonde replies, her voice low and sharp.
"Why? Puck's with you," Santana shrugs. "You know he's not going to get some somewhere else," she smiles. "And even if he was, he wouldn't go to Berry. Trying to get between those stubs she calls legs is like climbing the Berlin Wall."
Quinn grinds her teeth together, audibly. "I'm not with Puckerman," she says after a long moment.
Santana's pretty sure her eyes just bulged out her head. "What!" She half-yells, thankful she didn't take the mouthful she was about to otherwise it'd be on Puck's kitchen floor and drooling down her chin. That would've been attractive.
"I broke up with him," the blonde mumbles, almost too quietly to hear.
Flickering her gaze between Rachel, Puck and Quinn, Santana tries to comprehend what the hell's going on. Because Quinn looks like she's two seconds about from ripping... someone's head off - God knows whose - and Puck doesn't seem that phased that he's being glared at by his ex girlfriend. Nor does Rachel seem to care that the most popular girl in school is shooting daggers at her with her eyes. But then she sees Puck wander off into the party, departing with a simple wink shot at Rachel, and relaxes a little. Only because axe murderer Quinn is never fun to be around. Especially not at a party with alcohol.
Her jaw drops open and she's just about to say 'see, there? it's nothing.' But then she notices that Quinn's still completely focused on Rachel and there's something lacking in hazel eyes that was there before. Something that Santana thought was the 'tearing someone's head off.' Why would Quinn still be staring if she there's no aggression behind her glare?
So, Santana decides to say something. "If you broke up with him, then what's the problem? And why are you staring at Berry, still?"
"Why are you with Brittany?" Quinn retorts back, venom in her words but her eyes still completely locked onto Rachel. "And Puck's still mine and Rachel's still got her stubbly fingers all over him."
Santana's just about to say something when she processes Quinn words and jerks her head back. Slowly, she pushes off the table, leaving both cups on top and narrows her eyes as they dart between Rachel and Quinn. Something's not right, because Puck's not even there anymore. In fact, he's nowhere near Rachel, yet Quinn's still staring.
"You are aware Puckerman's not standing next to Rachel anymore, right?" Her vision flits towards the living room where she finds him dancing behind some girl, his hands roaming all over the girl's body. "He's over there," she points to him and looks back to Quinn who hasn't moved. She dips her head. "Grinding on a freshman."
It's actually amusing how fast Quinn's face twists from stoic to panicked. Her hazel eyes widen, mouth pops open into a small 'o' and face pales at least a few shades lighter than before. Her lips move and quiver, almost like she's trying to think of something to retort back and Santana just stands and watches, a proud smirk crossing her own lips as she begins to piece together random bits to create a bigger picture. Except she can't really see that damn picture. It's all fuzzy and blurred even though it's right fucking in front of her.
"Well, why don't you go and join him, then?"
Santana presses her lips together to hide the smile formed by Quinn's awful comeback. "What?"
"You've got to find your stress relief."
"Stress relief."
Quinn straightens up, places her cup down on the table behind her and then faces Santana with her bitch smirk on. "Well, yeah. You're not getting any at the moment and clearly you're pissed," Quinn gestures down her body. "And need some stress relief."
Santana ignores the jibe at the lack of sex. "What does that have to do with joining Puck?"
"You can't live without sex and you're not getting any. So you should probably go and relieve your stress," Quinn shrugs and begins to walk into the living room; pausing and throwing a look over her shoulder when she gets to the doorway. "And piss Puck off at the same time by stealing the girl he's all up on."
Lurching from her place, Santana crosses the kitchen in only a few strides, stepping over the threshold and into the living room to catch up with Quinn. She manages to grab the girl's arm before she gets too far into the living room and brings them both to a halt, feeling her heart thrum against her chest. Quinn turns to her, eyes darting down to where Santana's hand is curled around her forearm and then back up again to brown eyes.
"Yes?"
"I'm not gonna go and-" her voice breaks as she tries to work out what Quinn means and what to say simultaneously. "I don't need sex, Quinn."
Quinn scoffs and yanks her arm away. The music is louder in here than it was in the kitchen and so Santana has to step a little closer to the blonde to listen to her response. "Santana, you're like a cat on heat. You need to line up the next girl to screw after Britt and you could piss Puck off at the same time by choosing the girl he's with at the moment," Quinn smirks and crosses her arms, slowly. "It's like a win-win situation."
"I don't want to find another girl to screw," Santana retorts, increasing the volume of her voice not only because the music's loud but because she can feel the rage crawling through her veins. "I can have fucking feelings, Fabray."
"I didn't say you couldn't. You just can't for her," Quinn tilts her head and brown eyes flicker over, registering where Quinn's gesturing and finding Brittany, still dancing in the centre of the room. "I mean look at her, she's an outcast. She's not like us," she purses her lips and raises her top lip in slight disgust. "You shouldn't even be hanging out with her."
Intense ferocity burns in the pit of her stomach and Santana shakes her head, lips curling into a snarl. Her mind flicks through the many responses she could spit back, or the many things she could do like grabbing Quinn's hair and yanking hard. But then she really thinks about what Quinn says, and comes up with the perfect answer. One that doesn't even need aggression to stress her point.
"You're right," she nods and looks down to the floor. "She is an outcast," her breathing picks up and then her neck straightens as she glances back into hazel eyes. "All the Glee kids are outcasts because they're the most talented people in our school," she licks her lips and sees the shock pass over Quinn's face. "Brittany's an outcast because just look at her," she lifts one hand and points to Brittany before dropping it. "She can dance like a freaking dream when she's not even trying."
"Glee kids?" Quinn repeats with sheer shock lacing her tone. "You're making them sound normal, Santana."
Santana throws her hands up in the air. "They are fucking normal, Quinn!" She yells and feels several pairs of eyes snap to her.
"No," Quinn's eyes burn with rage and Santana becomes remotely aware of how the majority of the people surrounding them are now looking towards them and whispering to other people; who just turn their attention and join. "They're freaks. You can't hang around with Brittany anymore. You can't hold hands with her behind your car and act normal because it's not," she shakes her head. "This isn't what we planned."
A small sarcastic chuckle bursts through Santana's lips as she averts her gaze to her shoes. She can feel her veins spiking with intense irritation as she realizes that Quinn's words sound incredibly similar to the ones she heard earlier. Ones she heard coming from Jacob Ben Israel's mouth. It should shock her. She should be gasping, pressing her hand to her chest and thinking how the hell Quinn could do something like that to her. But, now that she thinks about it, this sudden discovery doesn't surprise her at all. Quinn's always been a conniving little bitch. So why would she have suddenly changed?
"You told Jacob about me and Britt," she whispers, mostly to herself as she continues to giggle despite her being more than unamused. "You wanted to break me and Britt apart before we were even official," she glances up and feels her fists curl at the top of her thighs. "Are you really that much of a bitch, Quinn?" Quinn's eyes widen from their narrowed stance and Santana takes a daring step forward, feeling anger fuelled heat build around the collar of her shirt as she spits out her words. "Trying to purposely hurt people and tear them apart because they don't fit up to your pathetic standards?"
"They're not pathetic, Lopez, and they're not just mine," Quinn ducks her head and curls her lips further until they're both leaning forward and snarling like two lions. "They're everyone's standards. They were even yours once upon a time."
Quinn looks Santana up and down at the irrational (or rational?) urge to deliver a right hook to the blonde's perfectly chiselled jaw burns down her arm and sizzles out at her fingertips. She bites it back though, knowing Quinn has more to say. No point in hitting Quinn if the worst is still to come.
"You can't date a Choir freak, Santana," Quinn shakes her head and straightens her neck up, lifting her chin regally. "They're-"
"They're what?" Santana cuts in exasperatedly, flexing her fingers as a dull ache throbs through them. "Rejects? Nerds? Losers? No," she sucks in a deep breath and feels her insides jitter and heart pound against her chest. "They're people. Like you and me." Quinn opens her mouth but Santana lets out a laugh and reaches up to pinch the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, shaking her head with closed eyes. "No, wait," she drops her hand and stares back into hazel eyes. "They're not like us at all, that's one thing we can agree on. They're better than me and you, and they deserve so much more than people give them."
(Somewhere, in the back of her mind, Santana registers the way the music's dimming in the background.)
"They're not freaks," she continues and flares her nostrils because she doesn't know how to relieve the animosity she feels without hurting Quinn. "They're actually pretty damn amazing," she thinks about earlier when she was standing outside the Choir room, and how happy all of the Glee kids looked. She's actually quite envious of them. "And they don't deserve the shit they get."
"You give them shit, Santana," Quinn bares her teeth. "We all do," she sweeps around to the party, gesturing to everyone standing around.
It's then that Santana realizes just how many people are watching. The strobe lights have stopped, and now they're basically in a fucking spotlight. The music's on an incredibly low level and there's no longer the cheers or giggles of drunk teenagers. Now there's just silence as the attendees of the party watch and stare at the two head bitches scream and yell at each other.
Santana feels a strange sense of pride for doing this in front of everyone, and for doing it at all actually. She's always put up with Quinn's shit, and now she's just letting go and giving it all she has. Exposing Quinn for what she really is, and in some ways, exposing herself.
"And why do we do that?" She asks, rhetorically. "To get a kick? To piss people off and try to demean them because we know," she pounds her fists to her chest. "We fucking know that they're better than us."
The air around her heats and she feels something creep down her spine. But it's not the chilling way that she had become accustomed to. It's a familiar warmth and it comforts her in some strange way. Spurs her to go on.
"We give these people hell because we can't handle the fact that as soon as we graduate, our popularity, our reputation, all of it," she shrugs and offers her hands out, palm up. "It'll just disappear. And they will be the ones heading off to Julliard and earning a celebrity status five years down the line, and so much money they could practically fucking swim in it," she lowers her voice when it strains at her vocal chords. "Whilst we settle for a mediocre job in this ridiculous excuse for a town."
Apparently, Quinn completely ignores everything Santana has to say because she lets out a chuckle and throws her head back to increase the volume. Startled and slightly shocked by the action, Santana tilts her head to the side and steps back; almost like she's backing down from the argument. But she doesn't want to give out the wrong impression, so she clenches her jaw and feels her features twitch with exasperation.
"They're not better than us," Quinn finally says. "How can you even say that? They're nothing."
This time it's Santana that laughs. "Quinn," she runs her tongue along her teeth and feels the warmth intensify as someone stands behind her. Hazel eyes flicker over her shoulder but she ignores it and continues. "Have you even seen what they can do?"
Quinn's face falls, but she still shakes her head slightly as if to say no.
"Exactly," Santana takes a deep breath in and grinds her teeth together. "Have you actually watched Brittany dance?" Quinn remains silent. "Because then you'll know how fucking beautiful it is to watch," she takes a small step towards the blonde and feels the strength to challenge Quinn build within her.
"And Berry? Who yeah, is annoying as shit," she says and then laughs when in her peripheral vision, she registers Rachel's mouth drop open in offence from where she's standing by the sofa. "But she can fucking sing. Insanely well, actually." Quinn's eyes dart towards Rachel and Santana witnesses the movement, but makes no comment as she doesn't want to drag anyone else into this.
"That sassy black chick, Mercedes?" She sucks in her lips and remembers watching the girl sing 'I Will Always Love You' earlier on. "She'd make Whitney Houston proud."
Her voice is a little calmer when she finishes her sentence, but then she sees Quinn's facial features sharpen and eyes narrow in fury once more and it breaks something inside of Santana. Breaks something she's been holding for way too long. Something she's been keeping through her high school years, where she's been playing second fucking fiddle to Quinn and done everything she was supposed too. Where she made every choice she did because she thought it was the right one
"What has she done to you?" Quinn mutters, eyes lingering up Santana's body. "What has the stupid fucking freak-" she spits the word out like she's disgusted it even formed in her mouth. "-done to you?"
That's all it takes for Santana to snap like a rubber band and lurch forward with all the intention of doing something to Quinn. But then cool fingers wrap around her own and all movement her body is making stills. She almost hates that Brittany has that effect on her because Quinn is looking imminently slappable right now.
"You don't have to do this," Brittany whispers so only she can hear. "You've proved enough, Santana."
Santana flares her nostrils, gasping for her breath because she's wants nothing more to close the gap between her and Quinn and feel the skin of Quinn's cheek against the back of her hand. But she knows if she does that then Brittany will be disappointed in her and she's not quite sure she can handle that again. Not after dropping Brittany's hand in Spanish and saying all those things to Jewfro this morning.
"No," she grits out. The memories bringing a fresh wave of irritation through her. "I'm doing this."
"Santana," Brittany says, a little louder this time and Santana twists her neck to stare into piercing blue. "You don't have to prove anything to anyone," the blonde continues, her voice steady despite her chest heaving up and down rapidly. Santana thinks hers is doing the same.
"You don't have to do this for me," Brittany sucks in her lips and pleas with her eyes as her fingers stroke over Santana's, attempting to calm her. Santana has to admit, it's kind of working.
Her palms start to itch as she stares at Brittany, trying to weigh out her options. At the point in time, she can either push back her aggression and step away, shaking her head at Quinn and take the place as the bigger person; or she can apologize to Brittany and show Quinn the full extent of Snix's wrath... Which is usually the first thing she would do, without even so much as a seconds hesitation. "Just walk away."
Except-
The thing is-
That was before Brittany came along.
That was before Brittany showed her that maybe she isn't that bad of a person...
And now with Brittany looking at her with these deep blue eyes, full of hope and trust... Eyes that are seeing past the fury and delving into the crevices of her soul and trying to tell and show her something that she hasn't yet grasped upon. Something which Santana knows is the little light at the end of the tunnel, where Brittany thinks she better than this. Where Brittany's trying to tell Santana that she is a good person and doesn't have to give into Quinn and react to her crafty little mind games and cruel words.
She's not entirely sure if she likes this look that Brittany's giving her. Because she's not sure she actually is a better person than she thinks she is.
"You're better than this," Brittany breathes hopefully, her fingers loosening around Santana's and putting the ball in her court.
Which, actually, is a pretty dangerous move. Because Brittany should know better than that.
Brittany should know that now there's no restraint physically holding Santana back. She could lunge and reach Quinn in less than a second, and soon enough four people would have to jump on top of her to tug her away from Quinn because there's a law or something regarding beating the crap out of someone. A law that, honestly? Santana doesn't really give a crap about. Not with that jaw-clenched smirk spread across Quinn's lips and that 'you won't do it' glare that's just taunting Santana.
Except she's been friends with Quinn long enough to know that if she gives in, Quinn's just going to win. She knows that if she reacts and does exactly what Quinn wants her to, she will have lost and that'll just make that fucking smirk grow twice it's fucking size.
There's no way she'll be able to hold herself back then. Might as well stop now.
"Yeah," she finally says, bringing herself out the slight crouch she was in. Her eyes find Brittany and she takes in deep breaths to steady her pounding pulse. "I am."
"So what?" Quinn scoffs, breaking Santana from her thoughts and Brittany's stare. "She's telling you what to do now?"
It's not exactly the reaction she expected, because as soon as she turns around and allows Quinn's words to flow through her mind, she begins to laugh. Not an amused laugh, but a laugh none the less.
"No, Quinn," she allows her eyes to roam around the room before they return to hazel ones. "Britt's not telling me what to do. She's telling me about myself because she knows me. She's taken the time to get to know me," she points to herself with one hand, keeping the other balled by her jean-cladded thigh.
"She knows that if I don't stop now, not only will Coach Sue kick my ass for giving her head cheerleader two black eyes and a broken nose," she breathes out and glances around, noting just how many people are staring at this interaction. Strangely enough, it only spurs her to continue.
"But the police won't take too kindly to my actions, either," she shakes her head. "She's not telling me what to do, she's showing me what I should do because she knows me," she lets out another laugh and tilts her head to look at the ceiling, snapping it back only a second later. "Better than you know me, and probably better than myself," she nods along with her words like she's agreeing with herself.
"No," Quinn snaps immediately, thrusting her hand up to point over Santana's shoulder. "She's making you look weak, Santana." Her eyes flicker down to Santana's boots and then trail up her body with disgust, "Weaker than you already are."
Santana clenches her jaw until the skin feels like it's about to tear from were it's tightening around the bone. "I'm not weak, Fabray," she spits, the anger getting the better of her. "I'll fucking prove that now," she emphasizes her words by taking a daring step forward, into Quinn's personal space.
"Is that a threat-" Quinn closes the gap between them until the tips of their noses are touching and their seething at each other. "Lopez?"
"It's not a fucking threat if I put it into action."
"I'm the co-captain of the squad now, Santana," Quinn lifts her chin as she speaks. "So choose your words carefully."
Santana almost laughs. "What do you mean, co-captain?" She says through a clenched jaw.
Quinn crosses her arms over her chest and smirks, her upper lip curling into a small snarl. "Coach said you haven't been carrying own weight," she runs her tongue along her teeth. "Said you may need help and I was there to offer my services. So I'd be careful if I were you," she smirks. "You're on thin ice."
This time, Santana does actually laugh; knowing that if it came to it, she could totally kick Quinn's ass in a fight. And the fact that Quinn knows this, and has to use her newly appointed position in the fucking Cheerios to out-do her is a hell of a lot more amusing than she thought it would be. Sure, Quinn's only the co-captain; but she still has jurisdiction over Santana considering Coach Sue's always preferred the damn blonde. That was always a problem with Quinn. The fear that she would take away Santana's position.
Old Santana would be shocked. Old Santana would be standing here, trying to push away the hurt flowing through her body. Old Santana would have given a crap. But this Santana doesn't. Instead, she just finds it amusing.
So much so, that she rubs her nose with her thumb and the bottom of her forefinger to hide the smirk tugging at her lips.
"You're pathetic, Quinn."
Quinn narrows her eyes further, but doesn't reply.
"And you know what? I don't even care," she straightens up and takes a step back until a curious warmth presses against the small of her back to steady her.
Brittany's hand.
"You can do what you fucking want, because I'm not going to be a part of your silly little high school fantasy, anymore," she lifts both hands, palms up beside her ears as if she's surrendering. "I'm done with you."
Fingers dig into the base of her top and she reaches behind her to grab at Brittany's hand, tangling their fingers together and stepping to the side to reveal to Quinn exactly what she's doing. A shocked expression passes over the head cheerleaders face, and Santana can't help but smirk. Meanwhile, her eyes roam the room and meet some of the people staring at her; who basically shrivel back as soon as their eyes lock.
(They've never seemed more terrified of her.)
"I'm out."
She shrugs to emphasize her words before looking towards Brittany; who's staring back with a soft smile, baby blue eyes and this gleam inside of them that creates warmth around Santana's heart and makes her heart skip a beat because it says I'm so proud of you without actually saying it. A low sigh escapes her lips and she juts her head towards the front door, visible from this position; wanting nothing more than to get the hell out of here now that Quinn's run out of violent words and empty threats.
"Let's go," she whispers, squeezing Brittany's hand before tugging them through the sea of people who move apart instantly, staring at her like they're both amazed and terrified. They probably shouldn't be, because she's just basically revealed a side of herself that no-one bar her family or Brittany has ever seen. A kinder, more loving one that – whilst yes, still doesn't take any shit from anyone – is willing to give up everything she's built up for the past God knows how many years, for a girl.
No, scratch that, for Brittany.
But, as soon as she opens the front door and moves to step outside, Quinn's voice pulls her back.
"Without me and the Cheerios, you're nothing." Quinn's face is paler then it was five minutes ago. A little more panicked, too.
Santana glances over her shoulder and looks the blonde cheerleader in the eye. "With you and the Cheerios, I'm nothing," she rolls her shoulder in a half shrug. "So it's not really like I'm losing anything."
The sound Brittany makes – a soft, airy sigh that's curved through a smile – practically makes Santana's heart fly out of her chest and do a little celebratory dance. She never knew a sound could make her feel so fucking amazing. Well, that and the combination that as she turns to Brittany, she can see the adoration and pride beam out her eyes. She doesn't hold back the smile. She doesn't need to anymore.
"Oh, and Quinn?" Santana says the words despite her looking straight at Brittany.
When nothing comes in reply, she turn and sees Quinn staring at them with interest. With the knowledge that the entire party and Quinn are watching them, it sends a surge of confidence through her body and she releases their hands, returning her gaze to Brittany as she reaches up and cups creamy cheeks. She spares a quick glance into blue eyes to check there's no hesitation; smiling when Brittany nods gently - only enough so that Santana can see and feel it – and then leans forward.
Santana brushes her lips over Brittany's, barely touching, and then tilts her head to the side before pressing them together properly. Then they're kissing. Soft, sweet and hesitant. Pouring emotions and words into it that can't be vocalized. Santana's nose nudges against Brittany's cheek as she switches the kiss to suck at her bottom lip gently, breathing out through her nose and moaning lightly when hands come up to tangle at the base of dark locks.
She pulls away smiling, and then moves one hand back down to tangle their fingers together, and the other so she can run her thumb underneath Brittany's bottom lip; removing the moisture there and inwardly marvelling at how Brittany has that half-spaced out look that tells Santana that kissing her makes her dizzy. She knows the feeling only too well. She's currently battling the dizziness.
Unable to resist, and pretty much completely forgetting that there's an entire part of people staring, Santana cranes her neck and presses her lips to Brittany's briefly. Sighing out against the other girl's mouth when she feels Brittany push back and try to prolong it.
"Thank you," she whispers, slightly unsure why the sudden rush of gratitude. Brittany smiles, the bow of her lip touching Santana's when she smiles because they're just that close. Opening her eyes, and seeing nothing but blue, Santana finds the strength to pull away and whispers, "Come on," before tugging Brittany out of the house and down the footpath, both of them giggling as they hear nothing but silence coming from the house behind them.
They giggle the entire way back to Brittany's house, staggering when the laughter gets the better of them and pausing when they have to bend over to catch their breath.
There isn't really anything in particular that's causing them to giggle erratically, because really, the fact that Santana just quit Cheerios and yelled at the head cheerleader, who also happened to be her best friend, isn't funny at all. Because now when Monday comes, she'll have no idea what to expect.
In all honesty though, with Brittany by her side, squeezing their hands and leaning over every now and then to press a kiss to her cheek just because she can, Santana kind of finds it hard to give a crap. It's pretty damn hard to feel anything but joy and adoration whenever she's around Brittany. It's just in Brittany's nature to make people feel like that.
Stumbling up to Brittany's front door, Santana grins and steps behind her; hands instantly falling to hips and fingers spanning underneath the hem of her tank top. She glides the pads of her fingers across warm skin, along the ridge of her protruding hip bones and then across to her belly button and up the dip in her abs. She doesn't really know why she does it, because they're never really this touchy, but she just has a craving to touch Brittany because now she can, whenever and wherever she wants.
So she's going to take advantage of this new privilege.
"San," Brittany chuckles when Santana grazes her nails down the flat plane of her stomach. "That tickles."
Santana doesn't stop though, just soothes over her previous path with her palm and presses closer; her hips fitting over the curve of Brittany's ass and chin resting on to her shoulder as she watches slender fingers fiddle with the keys to the Pierce household.
"You should probably open the door quicker, then," she whispers, her lips by the hinge of Brittany's jaw.
"It's not like I'm not trying," the other girl replies with feigned irritation in her tone. "You're just slightly distracting."
"Am I now?"
The lock on the door clicks and then it swings open, a rush of warmth greeting them both. Santana barely has time to step away before Brittany's crossed over the threshold and turned, hands grappling at her shirt and tugging her inside. A small yelp escapes her lips, surprised by the sheer boldness of the blonde's actions, but it's muffled by soft ones pressing over her own. Moaning lightly, Santana kisses Brittany back with everything she has, grinning when teeth nip at her lower lip until it's only the bows of their lips and noses and cheeks touching.
"What was that for?" She pants a little, tilting her head to the side to nuzzle their noses slightly.
Brittany doesn't answer straight away. Instead, she delays her answer by leaning in to kiss Santana slowly, drawing out the movement and cupping the nape of a tanned neck. She pulls back, only enough for them to catch their breath.
"The party..." the blonde breathes out and Santana instinctively pulls her closer, until there's no space between them. "You kissed me-" she licks her lips and glides her hands up Santana's neck to toy with the hairs at the base of her neck. "And the whole Quinn thing..." Brittany closes her eyes and shakes her head a little. "I just-" she opens them and Santana catches her breath at the piercing blue staring back at her. "I'm just so proud of you."
Santana reaches up and brushes a piece of hair behind Brittany's ear, her eyes following the movement as she feels her heart swell, melt and bloom inside her chest all at the same time. Her mind races and when her eyes return to blue, she can't see anything else but happiness and love staring back at her and heat pricks at the back of her lids because no-one's ever looked at her like this before, like she's their everything.
Suddenly, her body stills and fingers freeze by the Brittany's temple, brain faltering and short wiring as she traces back to the thought that just processed through her mind.
Did she just think about love? In reference to Brittany?
Does she love Brittany?
No.
That's ridiculous. They've known each other for a few weeks.
Plus, she doesn't stuff like that, the whole 'feelings' shenanigan. Feelings mess with peoples heads and screw with people's hearts. Feelings change people, and not always for the better. Feelings are why people end up broken hearted and alone, crying over someone they once wanted with everything they had. Santana and feelings, just don't go. They've never worked together before, and they never will, not while she still has a say in it.
"What?" Brittany asks, lowly, her body shifting and fingers flexing in Santana's hair as if she's self-conscious.
"Britt, I..." the words catch in her throat, even if she doesn't know exactly what those words are. She thinks that maybe a question about her previous thoughts was about to come out, or maybe even a stupid declaration about something she's not entirely sure of. She has no idea what it was, but she knows it was something important because it's lodged in the bottom of her throat and it's the same damn feeling she gets when she knows something just changed, or is about to change.
Except this time she thinks she might be okay with the change, even if said change is unknown.
"Brittany? Are you home?" They break apart, basically jolting a metre away from each other as Susan makes her way into the foyer; not even the slightest bit surprised by Santana's presence. "Do you not know how to shut the front door, girls?" She jokes, brushing past them and closing it.
Santana sucks in her top lip and tries not to look at Brittany's mom in the eye. She doesn't know why she does it, but she just feels like she should, like she was just caught doing something she wasn't supposed to. Making out with Brittany isn't something she wants Susan to see, but it's not like it's prohibited or anything. To correct her movement, she shuffles a little closer to Brittany until their shoulders are touching. Brittany smiles at her, proudly.
Her heart just melted. Again.
"Sorry, mom," Brittany pipes up. "Santana and I were just talking."
Brittany's mom leans back against the door and looks at them. "Is that what you youngsters call it these days?"
Santana's face stays the same – used to the little jibes adults give her - but Brittany blushes and ducks her head. Susan grins and pushes off the door, past them and towards the living room.
"Well you can talk in here," the older woman continues. "I'm going to bed."
Santana begins to head in the same direction Susan went, but then fingers curl around her arm and cause her to still. She pulls her face into a frown, twists her neck and looks towards the blonde with a quizzical expression; the sudden movement catching her off guard.
"Actually, mom," Brittany calls out to her mother who's disappeared into the living room, her eyes remaining locked with brown ones. "We're gonna go to bed, too."
It's then that she notices the way Brittany's lips are quirking into a devilish smirk. It's then that she notices the way Brittany's eyes are darkening and the mischievous glimmer flashing behind them. It's then that she notices how Brittany's usually innocent expression is turning into something that shoots straight through Santana like lightening; bottoming out low in her belly and spreading a pool of warmth there.
And it's about a second after that, that Santana realizeswhat Brittany's implying.
Holy shit.
"We are?" Santana asks, her eyes growing wide.
"We are," Brittany replies through a nodding grin, then winks. Santana almost dies right then and there. "But wait here," the blonde leans forward to press her lips to a tanned cheek. "I need to check my room and then I'll be down in a second."
"Uh...Oka-sur-righ-" Santana can't seem to form any coherent word as she stutters out unintelligible noises and unrecognisable words, her mind completely frazzled as it tries to process what Brittany just suggested.
Arousal spreads through her as Brittany turns away and heads up the stairs; purposely swaying her hips a little more than she usually does. Santana swallows thickly, her heart suddenly racing from anticipation and excitement and she's seriously fucking aware of how her muscles are burning with the urge to say fuck the room and chase Brittany up the stairs.
Too caught up in a stare, Santana doesn't notice Susan calling her name until the older woman appears in the door with her hands on her hips, not from frustration, but curiosity.
"Santana?"
Snapping her head around faster than the speed of light, Santana locks eyes with faded blue ones and heat rushes to her face from the fear that she was caught. "Uh," she clears her throat and straightens up, subtly tugging down the hem of her shirt just in case she's showing. "Yes, Mrs Pierce?"
"Susan, please," the older woman corrects with a smile. "And would you come in here for a moment, please?" She sweeps her hand out towards the kitchen.
Clenching her fists, nails digging into the skin of her palm, Santana nods and then makes her way into the living room slowly; her heart hammering wildly against her chest. She can't seem to stop her hands from shaking as Susan smooths down the back of her skirt and then slinks down gracefully onto the sofa; tapping the cushion next to her to gesture for Santana to sit. She does, nervously, and snaps her thighs together to hide the bulge she knows is pushing up against the flimsy fabric of her boxer shorts. Why the hell didn't she wear the tight ones? Especially considering how damn skinny and tight these stupid jeans are.
"Stop panicking, honey," Susan's voice is soft and gentle; nothing like the one Santana heard when they first met. A hand covers her own and she almost yanks her hand away. Not because the touch is unwelcome, but because it wasn't expected. "I'm not here to tell you off or anything."
Santana lets out a nervous chuckle. "Oh, right," she breathes out and sucks in her lips; eyes roaming around the room as Susan returns her own hand to her lap. "So, what is it about?"
"Well, I was just wondering if you and my daughter were dating?"
Caught out by the question (because apparently all the Pierces are managing to do that today) Santana jerks her head back and scrunches her brows together. It's not that much of an unexpected question; mostly because the entire way home, with Brittany's hand in hers and eyes stealing shy glances at one another, Santana was asking herself the exact same thing. But coming from Brittany's mom it's a bit strange, considering Susan's never actually seen her and Brittany together; bar the hallway incident a few minutes back.
"Um," Santana wets her lips and glances up once more, her fingers toying with the hem of her shirt. "I don't really know," she lifts her shoulders in a small shrug. "We might be but..."
"Have you slept with her?"
Santana gasps, eyes widening and throat thickening. "No," she replies immediately. "No, no," she laughs nervously and glances down, head shaking from side to side to emphasize her words. "We haven't had-uh," she hesitates. "I mean, we haven't slept together," she quickly corrects, feeling all the blood rush from the lower half of her body up to her face.
God, this is so not a conversation she wants to have with Brittany's mom, especially considering what Brittany insinuated a few minutes ago. Now she kind of just wants to curl up into a ball in the corner and hide herself.
(At least she's not turned on anymore.)
Susan smiles in a way that says good. "And are you in love with her?"
Santana smiles faintly; the question warming her chest as her heart skips a beat. This question doesn't come to that much of a shock, even though it probably should do, but that doesn't mean she knows the answer.
"We've known each other for a couple of weeks, Mrs Pierce," she replies honestly, her eyes darting up to meet blue.
"Call me Susan," the older woman tells her, smiling like she knows something. "And I didn't ask how long you've known each other."
"I know," Santana breathes in. "I just..."
The words trail off just as her eyes do; glancing over the room as she tries to find the right thing to say. Well, actually, to find anything to say because right now, she's kind of speechless. She doesn't know the answer to Susan's question, because she's never really considered it. All her life, she's been about the 'no feelings' bullshit, clinging onto it for dear life because the idea of letting someone in and letting herself love someone, is almost unbearable. She's seen the films, she's heard the songs, she's witnessed how people break when they fall in and out of love, and that's something she doesn't want to have to go through.
It's stupid, and naïve, because realistically, there's no way in hell she can live her entire life without feeling something for someone, whether that be just romantic feelings, or whether it's love. But she's been trying so damn hard to keep to that, to push herself and see if she can prevent herself from feeling anything, that when it's presented to her and asked up front, she just can't reply. No, not can't, but won't.
She flicks her sight up, meeting blue eyes that she can tell were once as bright and piercing as Brittany's; and she can see the expectancy and that little glint that says I know the answer, even if you don't, and Santana's struck with curiosity.
So she replies with the only thing that comes into her mind.
"Why are you asking me these questions?" It's not defensive, nor aggressive, just a plain question that she has the sudden need to know the answer to.
Susan sighs and takes Santana's hand, patting it gently between both of hers. "I know my daughter, Santana. She's a lot of things. Some of them good, and some of them not so good," she stares deeply into brown eyes and Santana feels her heart pounding inside her chest. "And I'm not oblivious to Brittany's... actions," Susan dips her head with the word and Santana quickly gets the unspoken meaning behind them. "No mother is, but I can tell when she makes an instant connection with someone, whether that's friendly or not" light brows raise. "And you my dear..." she taps Santana's hand and smiles. "You are not just a friend to her and obviously it's the same for you, too."
"What-," Santana swallows and runs her free hand over her forehead, brushing back a few strands of hair. Her face is prickling with heat like she was just caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "What do you mean?"
"I just mean that we both know about your past," Santana gulps guilty and averts her gaze to the ground. "And the only reason I'm asking these questions is because I want to help you and my daughter along," Susan stares at her like she's trying to say something but doesn't know how. It does nothing to quell the growing curiosity and fear inside of her.
"And seeing as there are certain..." Susan waves her hand around, looking slightly uncomfortable. "Things that you two haven't partaken in," Santana finds her face reddening once more, and her mind seriously wishing this conversation wasn't happening again. "Then I'm assuming you feel the same way she does."
"The same way she does?" Santana repeats, her lips pinching together and eyes squinting quizzically. "And how does she feel?"
The sound of footsteps echoes through the house and both of them know Brittany's coming down the stairs any moment, so Susan leans in and offers a small smile; obviously not wanting Brittany to hear this specific part of the conversation. Santana too, actually. It's not something that she's exactly proud of, being oo scared to ask Brittany how she feels, so she asks her mother.
"Just look into her eyes, honey," Susan says, patting her hand one final time before releasing it.
Santana doesn't have time to ask what or why because the older woman stands, running her palms down the front of her skirt and smiling between the two. The words repeat in her mind over and over, like they're stuck on a loop and out the corner of her eye she registers Brittany jumping down the final step of the staircase and bounding into the room - cheeks flushed pink, eyes bright and a few stray strands of blonde hair across her forehead like whatever she'd been doing had been rushed.
A smile tugs at Santana's lips because Brittany's never looked more beautiful.
"Everything alright?" Brittany asks, cautiously, her blue eyes flicking between her mother and Santana.
Susan who smiles sweetly; obviously used to her daughter's curiosity. "Everything's fine, darling," she replies, heading towards Brittany who's standing in the archway between the living room and entrance foyer. "And yes, Santana can stay over."
Brittany chuckles and wraps her mom up in her long arms. "Thanks, mom."
"Thank you, Susan," Santana says – with a double meaning - as she stands and heads towards Brittany; her arm instantly looping around the blonde's waist when she steps away from the hug.
Susan looks towards her and winks. "No problem, Santana."
The older woman makes her way to the bottom of the stairs and begins to climb them, gently waving them goodnight. Santana doesn't hesitate as she turns to Brittany and holds her close, her other hand moving to rest upon the blondes hip and fingers squeezing gently. Blue eyes gleam at her and it rips the breath straight from her chest at the same time Brittany's mom calls her name, switching her attention from the younger blonde to the older one.
"Oh, and remember what I said, Santana," Susan winks before disappearing up the stairs.
As soon as the sound of a door shutting comes down the stairs, Brittany leans in and kisses her, drawing it out until Santana feels the first signs of light headedness creep into her mind. Her fingers flex, curling and tightening a little more around Brittany's hips to ground herself as their lips brush against one another. She hums into the kiss, a tongue making a soft sweep of her lower lip and she receives gratefully, opening her mouth and tilting her head to deepen the kiss.
Needing more contact, Santana slides her hand down Brittany's spine until it reaches the base of her back and presses lightly; pulling their bodies tighter together. Heat spreads between them, and Santana groans into the other girl's lips, her arms moving to circle Brittany's waist and pulling until there's no space between them and Brittany's on her tiptoes; the upper half of her body resting on Santana's. The blonde squeals lightly at being lifted, and they both smile into the kiss; so content to just stand here for the rest of the night, trading soft kisses.
They kiss for long moments, slow and thoughtful, in the centre of the foyer until Brittany nips on Santana's bottom lip and pulls away; feet returning fully to the floor and noses bumping as they both catch their breath.
"Fuck,you're good at that," Santana's voice is low and raspy when she speaks; and she sees the way the other girl's eyelids flutter shut at the tone of it.
Brittany kisses her again. "I've been told," she winks then sticks her tongue out.
"Shut up," Santana rolls her eyes and then presses their lips together, sliding her hands down from Brittany's waist to the V of her hipbones; where she applies a little pressure and feels them roll against her own. The heat builds quickly in her groin once more, and before she knows it they're making out again, shamelessly rocking their hips into each other until Brittany's hand slides between their bodies and grabs at the crotch of Santana's jeans, fingers tracing the outline of her hardening cock.
"Ungh," Santana groans and breaks apart, eyes growing wide at the boldness of the other girl's actions. Seriously, for someone who isn't exactly an expert in this area, Brittany's doing pretty fucking well. "Britt."
Brittany smiles against her mouth. "Wanna go upstairs?"
She's nodding before she even tells her body to do it, and then Brittany's tugging her up the stairs with a smirk and sparkling blue eyes.
Thank you so much for the reviews guys! Always wanting more ;)