Just a quick note for the anon's who reviewed my last review…
Anon number one: I don't know why you make Santana so insistent in staying with Quinn. Any normal teenager would have dumped her ten chapters ago. It's getting pretty tiring; it might be wise to hook Brittana up soon.
Your response: First of all, Santana hasn't ever been a normal teenager. I'm not offending her and saying she's abnormal, so before you get all up in my grill I just wanted to clarify. She's staying with Quinn because she likes Quinn, and can't make her mind up between the two – sorry if I haven't made that clear, but she's indecisive, which may I add, most teenagers are.
I apologise that you think it's getting tiring, but if you're not enjoying this fic then please, don't hesitate to stop reading. I'm writing this how I want too, and if you don't appreciate my updates, then by all means, go and read someone else's story. Thank you anyway for taking your time to review.
Anon number two: I agree with the other reviewer, enough of this quinntana BS! I might stop reading
Your response: Thank you for taking your time to review, and I understand you're disappointed with Quinntana, and that you might stop reading but this is my fic, and I'm going to write it how I want too. I'm playing it out how I want too, and I've said from the start this is a Brittana endgame fic, and so it will be.
To both Anon's: if you stop reading it, then I apologise and it's a big shame, but I'm not going to change how I'm writing just because two anon's (oh by the way, anon, really? Are you in second grade?) don't like it. There's plenty of other fics that you may prefer so please go read them. But I appreciate you taking your time to review, so thank you anyway.
Anyway! Moving on to a cheerier note! Thank you everyone who took their time to review! I love you guys and I'm going to bang out updates more regularly (hopefully!)
Thank you for sticking with me and I hope you enjoy! Love you all!
Summary: Based off One Tree Hill relationship storyline. Santana moves to Lima after her mother's will demands so. What happens when high school gets a bit too complicated? AU.
Rating: R (for this chapter)
Disclaimer: Absolutely nothing to do with the actual show. Completely separate (unfortunately)
"For everything you have missed, you have gained something else, and for everything you gain, you lose something else."
- Ralph Waldo Emerson
Can't Fight Fate:
Chapter Fourteen
Without a second thought, Santana pushed up from the sofa and barged her way through the crowd. When she reached the kitchen she stopped in her tracks, and her face fell. The blood drained out of her being and she felt her skin pale. She almost couldn't believe what she was seeing, and her fists clenched.
"What the fuck?"
"Baaabyyy!" Quinn screamed, pushing away a large jock and stumbling off the table, over to Santana.
Santana stood there, heart pounding and adrenaline rushing. Her fists were clenched so tightly she could almost feel the blood tickling down her palm. She'd just walked in on a blonde jock doing body shots off girlfriend, and taking the lime from her mouth with a quick peck after.
But that wasn't the reason for her quickened heartbeat.
Brittany was perched on the counter, heels banging against the cabinet below, laughing uncontrollably and another jock standing between her legs, rubbing his palms up and down her bare thighs.
"What the fuck?" Santana repeated with aggression.
Everyone's heads snapped up in sync, and Santana's eyes widened comically. What the hell was she supposed to say? She couldn't care less that her girlfriend was getting half-dry humped by a jock, she couldn't care that Puck stood there doing absolutely fuck all, despite her thinking due to the shooting they'd someone managed to sort things out. All she cared about was the fact that Brittany was stood there with some guy feeling her up. That wasn't the Brittany Santana knew. What the hell was the she doing?
"Uh, San?"
Santana whipped her head round and glanced down to the body in front of her. It took about three seconds for her to realise that standing in front of her was her best friend.
"Rachel?" She said in disbelief, "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Noah ordered some pizzas from Bennie's, and I had my shift there tonight, so I delivered them. But then Bennie called me up and let me off for the night," The shorter girl shuffled nervously, "And Puck said I should stay here for a bit."
Suspicion burned through Santana's veins. Since when was Puck ever nice to anyone? Let alone Berry?
"Right," Santana glanced over the girl's shoulder and locked eyes with Brittany, suddenly feeling like she was under an examination, "Since when are you and Puck friends?"
Rachel looked around, and gulped visibly, "I tutor him Santana. We've become friends through that."
Quinn had got up from the table by this point, and was suddenly over by a jock, giggling and slapping him on the arm flirtatiously. But Santana didn't really focus on that as Brittany was currently being lead outside, still just wearing tiny black short shorts and still bloody topless.
When she turned her attention back to her best friend, she realised Rachel had actually been talking to her the entire time, and she tuned in, just in time to catch the end of the girl's sentence.
"…But honestly, he's nice so I hope you don't have any doubts."
Santana waved her hand carelessly in front of the small brunette, sure it was rude but she didn't exactly care at that point, "Yeah, just give me two seconds Rach."
She brushed past her best friend, completely focused on the door Brittany had left seconds ago. She was about two steps and a click of the handle away when something tugged on her wrist, and ground her to an involuntary halt. Santana spun on her heels, whipping her head round so fast it created a satisfying clicking sound and she looked deep into hazel eyes. But not the hazel eyes she was expecting.
"Puck." Santana deadpanned, darting her eyes down to their connected limbs. "Can I help you?"
"Are you," He coughed and retracted his hand, letting Santana's fall down by her side, "Are you going to the Chang's after the football match Saturday?"
Santana glanced over both shoulders, checking to make sure he was actually talking to her. When there was no-one there she looked back at him sceptically and raised an eyebrow, "I haven't heard about it."
"Well now you have." Puck relaxed and leaned against the counter, "It's an open invite thing, so maybe you should come along. All the parents of the squad are going to be there, and the majority of the Senior's. It's kind of Mike's excuse to have a party."
She really didn't know what the hell was going on. Her eyes darted between each of his, and saw nothing but sincerity. He was genuinely telling her she should come along. Confusion ran throughout her being.
"Not planning to chuck me in some mud then?" She ducked as a red cup flew past her head, and Puck sent the throwers a glare. They immediately backed down and this just caused more suspicion, and doubled the confusion.
Seriously? He's protecting me now?
Puck shook his head, "No. But I would like to apologise for that."
Okay now this is just weird. Santana didn't even bother to reply with words, she just shot him a weak smile and gave a quick nod.
A few seconds passed and her brother still hadn't moved. It caused her to feel slightly self-conscious, and she subtly looked around, making sure she wasn't about to step in something or about to be bagged by a couple of Jock's and thrown into the back of a van. That would just make her night even better. But no. No jocks, nothing on the floor. Puck was actually being nice.
"Could I, uhm," Puck coughed, clearing his throat nervously and shaking Santana from her searching, "Talk to you for a minute, like privately?"
What the hell?
"I'm kind of in the middle of something here Puck," She gestured to Quinn, trying to cover up her tracks. Puck was sceptical, she could tell that much by his expression, but when he ducked his head in defeat, she gave him the benefit of the doubt. He was her brother after all. Even if he had been a major douche bag in the past. Santana did a lot of things. Holding a grudge, she did not. Everyone deserved a second chance, right?
"Can we talk later?"
Puck stayed hesitant for a second. He seemed… Scared? And sure as hell surprised by shrugging and nodding. "Uh, sure. But Brittany went that way. " He pointed towards the door. "Not Q."
Panic flowed through the Latina, and she crossed her arms defensively. "I know, I, uh-"
"I won't say anything."
She literally couldn't believe what she was hearing, or seeing for that matter. The jock standing in front of her wasn't the egotistical, obnoxious, son-of-a-bitch she'd met back in September - he seemed genuinely nice. Like somehow he'd transformed into a good guy within the span of a few weeks. Puck was like a completely different person? Had Rachel been right about him? Santana hoped not, otherwise she wouldn't let that down for years.
"You don't have anything to say anyway. Quinn's my girlfriend and I don't care where Brittany went." The lie spiked her body and she almost rolled her eyes at the way it rejected the statement. She did care. A lot.
Puck didn't even seem like he wanted to argue as he dropped his hand and took a step back. What the hell had got into him? Noah 'bad-ass' Puckerman backing down?
Damn, pigs are going to start flying soon.
"Whatever you want to believe Lopez," He jabbed her lightly in the arm with a chuckle lacing his tone. Yes, he actually jabbed her in the arm. Like playfully. Like they were best friends. What the fuck? And then he was leaning over towards her, hot breath brushing against her ear.
"Just don't hurt feel bad about breaking it off with Q," Puck whispered, "She's not as innocent as she makes out."
He pulled back and jutted his thumb over his shoulder. Santana saw Quinn and the blonde jock, she recognised to be Sam from Brett's party a few weeks back, stroking a lock of her hair behind her ear.
When she turned back, Puck and Rachel had disappeared from the kitchen, probably to go join in with the rest of the party or something. So she stood there, repeating Puck's words over and over, trying to make sense of them and coming up with nothing. What the hell did he mean? And how the fuck did he know she was going to break it off with Quinn? And why the hell was he trying to make her feel better? Wasn't there supposed to be some on-going vendetta between the two?
A soft graze of a palm broke her out her trance, and she slowly looked around to see Quinn standing in front of her with hazy green eyes. It sort of worried Santana how she literally had no awareness for her girlfriend, and frankly, didn't care all that much.
Ouch.
"Heyyy babyyyy."
Santana rolled her eyes. Quinn was way beyond the point of drunk. She checked her watch. They'd been there for about half an hour. Jesus. "Hi."
"Whatssssup whichu grumpysss?" Quinn slurred, patting her girlfriend's cheek.
Santana shrugged her off and pushed onto the balls of her feet, trying to scan the garden through the small window over the sink. But the darkness and reflection of the light prevented her from seeing the blonde head of hair she'd been searching for.
"Nothing." Santana growled in response.
"Nooo babyyyyy, you can tells me what'ss wrong."
The Latina dodged the hand reaching for her waist, "Just leave it Q."
"Sannnyy," Quinn took a drunken step forward and loosely wrapped her arms around Santana's neck. The brunette was barely aware of it as her eyes continued to roam around the darkness.
"Tellss mee, orr we coulds go upstaaairss and I'll make it up to youuu." Quinn said seductively, unhooking one arm and trailing it down Santana's neck, collarbone and cleavage until it met the bridge of Santana's bra.
Santana shook her head and looked at her girlfriend with something that resembled disgust. She hadn't meant too, and as soon as she realised she just reached behind her head, grasping the blonde's wrists and pulling them from around her. She held them in between their bodies and fiery brown eyes glared into hazel ones.
"Just fucking drop it Q."
Quinn took a firm step back, ripping her hands away from Santana's grasp and narrowed her eyes. It seemed as if the brunette's tone had zapped all the alcohol out of Quinn's body, because she was standing rigid and no longer swaying from left to right.
"What the fuck? What the hell is wrong with you?"
That did it for Santana. Something inside of her ticked, and she was pretty sure it was the time bomb called Quinntana.
"What did you do wrong?" Santana chapped her chin mockingly, "Hm, let's see. First of all you treat my best friend like shit, and have never made an effort with her, despite me making an effort with all your fucking friends all the fucking time. I bet you don't even know my best friend's fucking name."
Quinn opened her mouth but Santana stopped her, "And don't call her 'tutor girl' because I've heard you call her that befor, several times. She has a god damn name Fabray."
The blonde's mouth snapped shut and mocha orbs looked away, not being able to see the defeat and hurt behind Quinn's eyes. She thrust up two fingers as if to count down.
"Second of all, you treat your own best friend like shit. And don't deny it because you do."
Santana added another finger, "Third of all, Britt's dad nearly fucking dies, and you're too god damn selfish to travel with her to make sure her only living relative, bar her grandma, is still fucking alive. Instead you stay at home and do what? Text, gossip and paint your damn nails?"
By this time the whole kitchen had gone silent. Everyone was staring but Santana didn't even notice as she dug into her girlfriend - the most popular girl in school, who had literally never been talked to like that, well, publicly anyway. If it wasn't for the intense grilling Santana was giving Quinn, she'd probably find the situation quite amusing.
"And last but not fucking least, you're letting some douche bag," Santana pointed to Sam aggressively, "Take fucking body shots off you, and pecking you on the lips, which I know is 'part of the game," Santana said mockingly, "But that's bull. You could've said no."
Hazel eyes widened, "And to top it all off, you're prancing around in basically fuck all, showing your shit around like nobody's business and you wonder why I'm pissed! You're my fucking girlfriend Q, and you're acting like you're fucking single."
And then everything fell silent again. Santana's eyes roamed around the room and she noticed just how many people were watching, and realised the music had actually been turned down, to listen to their argument. She felt shame and embarrassment spread through her body, her cheeks deepen in colour, and she dipped her head in reaction. If it wasn't for her tanned, olive skin it would've been a hell of a lot worse and she thanked God for being a Latina.
She mulled over her words. Feeling guilty about how aggressive they'd been. But, in some ways, Santana was kind of glad it'd happened. Because, really, it was just the straw that broke the camel's back. Everything had built up, and finally, despite Santana knowing she was the one in the deepest of the wrongs, she felt like she could break up with the blonde, like she was allowed too. The tether tied between the two was broken. But she also knew she wouldn't, and couldn't, purposely humiliate or hurt Quinn. She couldn't break up with her in front of all these people. It just wouldn't be fair.
So she grabbed her girlfriend by the wrist and tugged her outside onto the deck, allowing the door to shut with a large thud. She let go, and paced about four steps in front of the blonde, crossing her arms and refusing to look back. Her neck craned just the tiniest bit to make sure the people inside the kitchen weren't leering, or leaning against the door, ear pressed to the wood with a glass in hand. The image of Puck shooing everyone out the kitchen caught her by surprise, and she twirled around slowly, thinking what the hell had got into Puck.
Finally she scuffed her pumps along the floor and decided to speak.
Now or never.
"You're supposed to be my girlfriend. You can't do shit like that when you're in a relationship. Don't you know that?"
Quinn still stayed silent; she hadn't spoken since the brunette's outburst about four minutes ago. And Santana let out a long, deep exhale and slowly released her clenched fists, dropping her arms by her side. The mere silence from Quinn was almost like a sign that she wasn't even going to try and justify her actions, and it kind of made it a little easier for Santana prepare herself for what she was going to do.
"But you won't have to worry anymore about that."
Quinn's breath hitch in her throat and Santana squeezed her eyes shut, hating the way it settled in her gut. Guilt finally weighed down upon her and it put a considerable amount of pressure on her chest as she brushed her palm up her arm, rubbing roughly.
"What are you saying exactly?" Quinn questioned breathlessly, taking a tentative step forward.
Santana turned, halting the blonde and looking her dead in the eye. The words hung off the tip of her tongue, and she felt the venom bubble at the back of her throat. She didn't want to do this; hurting Quinn, but it was inevitable. She tried to convince herself it was just so wrong to stay with her when she didn't feel the same anymore, that she was doing the right thing. But the guilt still weighed in the back of her mind and she just couldn't fight it.
Everything would be so much easier if she had a damn time machine, and could've skipped ahead five minutes, missing the five words she knew Quinn wasn't going to like to hear. But that wasn't going to happen, no matter what she did. So she said it anyway.
"I don't think we should see each other anymore."
And then nothing.
The silence was almost unbearable. Santana stood her ground, and stayed just staring as a rush of emotions flashed behind Quinn's hazel eyes. She was yet to respond, and it'd been so long that Santana wondered whether she'd actually said it.
"Stop! Artie! Stop it! That tickles!"
That voice, that soft, half-drunken and half-flirtatious tone, broke Santana from her guilty gaze. She whipped her head round to the bottom of the garden, where Brittany was standing with a small, skinny jock with dark, thick-rimmed glasses. He had his hands all over her body, rubbing up and down her bare arms, and the jealousy poured like piping hot lava through Santana, burning her insides.
What the hell was Brittany doing? Santana just broke up with her damn girlfriend, and Brittany was all over this fucking 'Artie' guy, with her arms looped around his neck and fucking giggling. Artie, with his stupid fucking glasses, stupid fucking name and stupid fucking scrawny legs that seemed to dangle stupidly out his fucking pants. He didn't even know what goddess sculpture he was touching, and he didn't fucking deserve too.
Fuck Artie.
Santana forced herself to look away. And when she did, Quinn was no longer standing in front of her. Santana snapped her head back and forth, searching the dimly lit deck for the blonde, but came up with nothing. She briefly glanced over her shoulder, and blue locked with brown, routing her to her position. Hurt darkened the usual sparkling sapphire orbs, and a sore, sad expression pasted the dancers face before she returned to talking with Artie, but obviously not as flirtatiously before.
Brittany didn't know Santana had broken up with Quinn. And if Brittany was already moving on with Artie, it was going to stay that way. Because it was the way it should be. So Santana brushed herself off, metaphorically, and felt the defeat sink in as she headed around the house, avoiding the questions from inside.
It only took about five minutes to get home, and she threw herself down on the bed harshly, feeling it creak under the pressure. The tears flowed from her eyes, as she was no longer able to fight them anymore, and she rolled over, clutching her pillow tightly to her chest as the fabric dampened by the second.
Brittany was with Artie.
It's the way it should be.
The week went by relatively quickly. Monday came, and she started receiving strange stares from several freshmen, as she did her best to avoid Quinn and Brittany. Since word was Artie and Brittany hooked up – Santana really didn't want to see the dancer.
Apparently Santana and Quinn's public break up had also got around, and it almost seemed like people were scared of her because of it. She'd even heard a few people saying, "I heard she slapped that Fabray bitch. She deserved it but boy I wouldn't want to be slapped by Lopez. She looks fierce." And Santana couldn't help but feel like it was week one all over again, with all the bickering's and quizzical glances.
Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday were pretty much the same. Strange stares, managing to avoid Quinn and Brittany, and pretty much spending her time with Rachel or on her own. She didn't mind it, in fact she enjoyed it seeing her and Rachel hadn't hung out in a while. But when Friday came, it wasn't so much the same.
Santana was walking down the hallway, heading to sixth period Spanish, and texting Rachel. Apparently the smaller brunette was on a school trip to some Astrology lab in Harrod, which meant Santana, had to survive her classes, without Rachel peering round each corner, making sure it was clear of Quinn or Brittany.
Rachel: Santana, I'm not going to call Quinn just to see where she is. Plus she only knows me as tutor girl and pretty much hates me.
Santana rolled her eyes at the text, and shuffled her books under her left arm whilst grasping her phone in her right. She turned the corner, brushing passed several bodies and smiled at her reply as she approached her locker.
Santana: Berry, that's ridiculous. She doesn't hate you. She doesn't exactly like you but she knows who you are. Can't you just see what lesson she has and make up some bullshit excuse like you'd like to know because of homework? You are tutor girl after all. Nerd.
A cool speck landed upon her cheek, and she wiped it off before looking up and seeing an Asian girl, who Santana knew by the name of Tina, covered in blue slushy. A couple of jocks were walking away, pointing and laughing as it dripped down her face and Santana swung open her locker. She grabbed a few tissues before heading towards the girl and thrusting it into her hands with an apologetic expression and a small 'don't worry about them'. Tina seemed pleased.
Stupid, fucking school.
Rachel: You know when you call me Berry it doesn't make me 'exactly like you' either. It's demeaning. And if I'm a nerd so are you! We have the same grades! Anyway, no Santana, I'm not going to text Fabray. You're going to have to see each other whether you like it or not. If I knew you were going to be such a whiney bitch, I wouldn't have gone to this damn astrology lab.
Another bell rang and Santana turned back to her locker, trying to imagine Rachel actually swearing and calling her a whiney bitch. She knew Rachel wouldn't ever say it to her face, but just imagining it was funny as shit. The thought created a chuckle to escape her lips and she shoved her textbooks into the locker, grabbing the Spanish dictionary and a few pieces of paper inside her black folded before heading away.
Santana: Did you really just say whiney bitch? Lol. Anyway Berry, I've got to go to class-
"Oh," Santana dropped her books as a body collided with hers, "Shit, sorry I didn't mean to-"
And there she was. Brittany in all her damn glory with her perfectly pale skin, sparkling sapphire eyes and defined cheekbones that Santana just wanted to kiss over and over. Brittany shoulder's visibly sunk as their eyes locked together and Santana found herself involuntarily backing away from the blonde.
The silence crept into their conversation, and they stood there with faces devoid of emotion, just staring at each other as the hallways fanned out of people. Santana felt her head speed up and she brought a shaky hand to her hair, threading her fingers through it and brushing it away from her face. The textbooks still remained on the floor, but they were long forgotten as Santana took a brief inspection of the emptying corridors and watched as the last student exited the hallway through one of the side doors.
"Hi."
Santana slowly turned back, looking Brittany dead in the eye, curious to weather she'd made up Brittany greeting her or not. She gulped audibly and shuffled her weight onto her opposite leg, running her left palm up her right arm.
"Hi." She responded a little louder than intended.
Brittany chewed on her bottom lip, and Santana unconsciously mirrored the movement. She glanced down, seeing the forgotten textbooks and ducked down to retrieve them. However the blonde did exactly the same and half bent, their foreheads collided with a small thud. Both of the girls retracted slightly, clutching their heads and wincing at the pain.
Santana took a glimpse, and realised they were still both mostly bent over and their faces were closer than necessary. She gulped, her eyes darting down to Brittany's pink lips and then back to her ever-darkening blue orbs. There was something that Santana could only relate to being like gravity that pulled her and the blonde together. As long as she stayed a certain distance away from Brittany, she could remain there. But once in her personal space, she didn't really have a chance.
"Sorry."
"Sorry."
She watched Brittany's pale cheeks darken with a blush, and blue eyes look away as if Brittany was embarrassed. Suddenly all the anger she felt for Brittany, all the mixed emotions about her dating Artie vanished and she was entranced by the blonde near her. There was something just so damn enticing about Brittany, and if she didn't make Santana's mind go blank whenever she was near, the brunette would probably be annoyed by it.
"It was my fault. I shouldn't have ducked when you…" Brittany stopped talking and narrowed her eyes as if she doubted herself, "…ducked. I'm rambling aren't I?"
Santana let out a small chuckle, "No anymore, it's fine. You were trying to help."
Brittany nodded and then dipped her head, trying to hide the smile. It just made the butterflies in Santana's stomach to multiply.
"You've been avoiding me."
Santana stopped and her eyes found everywhere that wasn't tall, blonde and incredibly gorgeous. She needed to stand, get away from Brittany. Because at this proximity, Brittany would sure as hell be able to see straight through Santana and the lie she was going to create like; I'm not actually avoiding you, just not looking for you, per say. It took about four excruciatingly long seconds for her to summon the strength to pull her head away from Brittany's and somehow she managed to snap back into reality. She focused, somehow, and quickly swept up her books, pulling them into her chest with crossed arms.
"I haven't." Santana stated as non-chalantly as possible.
Her eyes back to the other girl who was standing, tracing an invisible circle on the floor with her foot and smiling sheepishly. It was too damn adorable. So damn adorable that Santana couldn't fight the smile that tugged at her lips, even though she tried her hardest to clamp down her facial muscles.
The seconds went by, and Brittany still hadn't replied. She'd seen the restrained smile, because there was a certain sadness about her mood. Brittany knew Santana had been avoiding her, and now Santana knew she was going to have to give some answers. Which she had none of. Fuck. Life was hard.
"I've missed you."
Santana's heart ballooned. Blue eyes sparkled with adoration and her heart fluttered uncontrollably. It didn't matter that Brittany had been all over Artie, it didn't matter that she was trying to remain angry at the blonde, even though she didn't legitimately have a reason and it sure as hell didn't matter that she'd tried her upmost hardest to avoid Brittany and hated every day of it because that, right then, being in that close proximity of the blonde, and with those three little words, it made up for all of it.
"I broke up with Quinn."
Santana frowned at her own escaped words. She hadn't even been thinking about telling Brittany that because of the whole Artie thing, but there was that ever-growing selfish part that wanted Brittany to know. And apparently it'd taken control of her.
The blonde dipped her head and focused on her feet, "I heard."
Brittany's response shouldn't have been a surprise. Santana knew word had got around. But deep inside, there was something resembling hope that because Brittany didn't know, Santana would tell her and they'd run off together happily, leaving Artie covered in dust. But she did know. And was still with Artie.
"Are you going to Mike's tomorrow night?"
Santana had to admit she didn't like it when Brittany jumped from conversation topic to conversation topic. It got kind of hard to keep up with after a while, but at that moment she was glad as she literally had nothing to say in response that wouldn't have been either aggressive or bitter. So instead she nodded and focused on the question.
"Yeah, think so." Brittany grinned at Santana's response. "Are you?"
The blonde lifted her head and a sheepish smile graced her face, "I am now."
"You are now?"
"Now I have a reason too."
Both of them ducked their head in sync, flushing with embarrassment and Santana felt the sudden excitement overwhelm her body. About two hours ago she was dreading going to Chang's, knowing Brittany and Quinn…
Oh shit, Quinn.
"Is…" Santana cleared her throat and waited for a passing Cheerio to turn the corner, "Is Quinn going?"
Something hardened in Brittany's features. Santana couldn't work out what it was and she just narrowed her eyes quizzically in response. Brittany stayed silent for about five seconds, and then nodded.
"Yeah."
"Oh, right."
"What time does it start?"
Their eyes met again. "About seven thirtyish."
Santana exhaled, and decided not to hold back. What was the point anymore? "Would you like to go together?"
Brittany didn't say anything. Yes immediately flashed behind blue orbs and it was clear just how much Brittany had wanted Santana to say that. But as if they were in a movie, right on fucking cue, the dancer's body snapped rigid, her whole muscles visibly tightening as her face fell emotionless. The Latina furrowed her brows and twisted her neck to the side slightly, silently questioning the blonde. But as she heard footsteps, she closed her eyes and prayed to God it wasn't the person she thought.
But the voice confirmed it.
"Uh, hey Britt." Quinn approached the two, filling the gap opposite the lockers and in between their bodies, "Hey Santana."
Santana gave a small nod and grimaced at the guilt that flooded through her body. She was single, and technically, just technically, she shouldn't feel guilty. Technically, she wasn't doing anything wrong. Technically.
Yes you are.
Fucking technicalities.
"Hi." She responded lightly.
Quinn bounced up on her heels and rocked forward slightly, turning her attention to Santana with a forced cheeriness, "So are you going to Chang's tomorrow?"
Brown eyes flickered to blue ones, before going back to hazel, "Yeah… Are you?"
The smaller blonde grinned, "Definitely. Never one for missing a party."
It was pretty damn strange. Not to be up herself, but Santana had kind of hoped Quinn would be a little bit bummed by the break-up. But no, instead she was smiling and bouncing up and down in her step. Santana watched as Brittany leaned over and whispered something to her best friend, before giving the brunette a weak nod and spinning on her heels, leaving them alone.
"Well, me, B and Artie are going together," Quinn let out, "You should join us."
The memories of the break-up flashed through her mind, and she suddenly wondered whether or not it was real – considering Quinn, for all intense and purposes, basically just asked her on a double date. Mocha orbs flickered between each dark green orb and Santana felt the rage and jealously burn through her veins as the words B and Artie repeated themselves in her mind. All the emotions flooded back and suddenly she was pissed again. Pissed at Brittany. Pissed that Artie and Brittany were together. Pissed at Quinn for asking on a fucking double date. Just generally pissed.
"I don't think that would be such a good idea," Santana grinded her teeth together, "Wouldn't want to intrude."
"Quite the contrary,"
Quite the contrary? Since when are we in a fucking Shakespearian film?
"You'd make it a lot easier. After all, being the third wheel isn't exactly fun when Abrams and Pierce have their tongues shoved down each other's throats. Gets kind of boring."
Santana grimaced and felt the jealousy burn an Brittany shaped hole in the pit of her stomach. Abrams and Pierce have their tongues shoved down each other's throats. Fucking great. She snapped back to Quinn, thinking over her persuasion. They'd broken up less than a week ago. And now a double date? Hell, didn't Quinn get the point?
"Quinn, we broke up." Hurt flashed behind hazel eyes and guilt struck the Latina. It was seriously having to stop soon otherwise she'd tear out her conscience, "And now you're asking me to join like we're going on a double date?"
"No," Quinn said a little quicker than necessary. Santana raised both eyebrows, "No necessarily a double date. I was just thinking that we could go, as friends."
"It kind of sounds like a double date," Quinn seemed hopeful. Santana knew she'd have to knock her down, again. Whoop-de-fucking-doo. "And I don't want to do that."
There it was. Again. The hurt filled hazel eyes. That Santana had caused. Again.
"Then just friends," Quinn shrugged, "We'll just go as friends. There's no reason we can't go as friends."
Santana knew the blonde was right. She was still doubtful. There wasn't really a reason why they couldn't be friends, people who break up stay friends sometimes, right?
"Sure Q," A huge grin took over Quinn's face, but there was something mischievous behind it, and it made Santana feel uneasy, "Who's driving?"
"Artie. Meet at my house at eight, and he's picking us up from there, okay?"
Santana grimaced. Great, being driven with fucking Artie. Bet he has a big fucking car and a big fucking house. Fucking clichés.
Feeling more than awkward, and guilty, but not knowing what by, she nodded, "Okay."
The blonde stood there for a couple of seconds, and Santana could see that she wanted to ask something. She didn't want to hear it. So instead, she turned, giving Quinn a quick smile before heading off in the opposite direction. Just as she was about to turn around the corner, she heard a "Santana, wait" and looked back to see the other girl jogging up behind her.
A dark eyebrow raised, "Yeah?"
The head Cheerio slowed to a stop about a foot in front of Santana, and played with her fingers nervously, "Can I ask you something?"
No.
"Yes."
Quinn looked around, scanning the area, "Is there-" She cleared her throat, "The reason we…"
Santana heard the silent broke up at the end and supressed the burn running through her muscles telling her to run away. "Yeah…"
"Is there someone else?"
Her heart stopped. It literally stopped functioning as soon as the Quinn let out the question. Her mouth involuntarily dropped into a silent 'oh' and panic flashed through her. If it wasn't for her stone like state, Santana probably would've passed out.
Just tell her. Get it over and done with.
Brittany's her best friend. You can't do that.
You and Brittany aren't even together.
You still have feelings for her. Just do it.
Quinn had no idea that Santana was inwardly arguing with herself. Should she tell her? Rip the bandage off quickly instead of tearing it off slowly? Fuck. What's she going to do? If she could have literally one wish right now, it would be to go back in time about thirty seconds and keep on walking, or leave before and run away so Quinn couldn't catch her. Fuck! Why did she have to ask her that!
The answer was right there on the tip of her tongue. But instead a foreign one bypassed it and came out before she could even stop it. "No."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Really?"
What is this? Twenty questions?
"Yeah Q. I'm sure. There's no-one else."
It was suddenly obvious that in some ways admitting that, should've brought a negative reaction from the blonde. Because it just meant she didn't want to be with Quinn. Surely not having anyone else was worse, mostly because it meant she didn't want anyone else? Right?
Quinn took a couple of seconds before she smiled and reached forward, pulling Santana into an incredibly awkward hug. The brunette was the first to pull away, feeling entirely awkward about the whole situation. Including the hug. Hell, especially the hug.
"Thank you."
Dark eyebrows creased together as Santana looked at her ex-girlfriend, "What for?"
"For being honest with me."
Oh God.
"So I'll see you at eight at mine?"
Santana nodded, "Sure Q."
"Bye S."
"Bye.
And that was the end of that.
The match finished earlier than expected, and that meant the party started sooner. Quinn had texted Santana, asking her to come over for seven thirty as the party had kicked off around six, and to bring alcohol. So armed with two bottles of vodka, some apple shots and wearing a pair of skinny jeans, a red tank top and grey Chucks, she walked towards Quinn's house.
The walk seemed all too familiar. She remembered the times walking down the same path, hand in hand with her girlfriend, just smiling and just generally being happy. There was a time when she didn't constantly feel guilty, sad, or angry and in some ways she hated the fact that everything had changed. Not because she wanted to be with Quinn, because she didn't – she hated that her life wasn't as easy as it used to be. She missed the freedom, the lack of worrying and not having to constantly watch what she said.
All because of one person.
One insignificant person, no different from any other insignificant on this god for saken world, that'd managed to make her happier and sadder than she'd ever felt in her whole entire life. That'd managed to turn her world upside down and cause emotions in places she never thought were possible. And no, not just sexual ones.
Fuck.
Santana look up at the stoop. Which seemed more daunting than usual and dread for the night ahead ran through her body.
"Get a hold of yourself." She whispered as she headed up the concrete steps, raising her arm and rapping on the door firmly three times when she arrived.
She stood back, hovering on the top step of the stoop and tapping her foot nervously. It swung open no more than three seconds later, with a bewildered Brittany standing there in an incredibly short and tight cerulean strapless dress that highlighted her eyes. Her eyes. Damn they were distracting. Blonde locks were hanging in loose curls over her slender shoulders.
Brittany was undeniably, fucking beautiful.
"Santana?"
Santana snapped her head up and tried not to focus on the incredibly, toned and mouth-watering legs that seemed to go on forever, being shown underneath the revealing dress, and stared at Brittany.
"What are you doing here?" Brittany continued, raising an eyebrow skeptically.
Santana stepped over the threshold, and into the house where she stood silently until she heard the door shut, "Quinn invited me to come with you and Artie." She said bitterly.
"You and Quinn?"
The brunette could see the jealousy, and it brought a smirk to her face. "Yeah, me, Quinn, you and Artie."
Sadness darkened usually bright eyes, and a strange sense of satisfaction ran through the Latina. She knew that Brittany was inferring a double date, but at that moment she didn't really feel like correcting her.
So instead she cocked her head to the side quickly and feigned a smile. "Where's Q?"
Brittany shuffled away from the door and leant against the banister going up the stairs, "Getting ready."
"Oh, right okay."
On cue, Quinn walked down the stairs in a matching dress to Brittany's, but in red. Santana had to admit, she was still smoking hot, and being hormonal and all did make her mouth run dry a bit – but when she glanced back to Brittany, all attraction for her ex-girlfriend disappeared.
Oh God.
Santana wasn't looking forward to the night ahead.
It was half-eight when they finally left the house. There had been a considerable amount of tension and awkward silences between Santana and Brittany – but she'd just pushed passed it and gripped the edges of the armchair tighter, just watching Quinn down the shots she'd lined up for herself. Apparently sharing was out the question.
When the doorbell went, Santana's body went rigid, and she mentally prepared herself for the worst – being Brittany and Artie ripping each other's clothes off and taking each other on the floor – which she knew was extreme, and wouldn't happen. But she should be prepared, just in case.
Quinn opened the front door, and there he was, standing in an open collared white shirt and black pants, with his tie hanging loosely from his neck. Santana knew the football team had a meeting beforehand, but she didn't know it was supposed to be a dress up thing. And that just gave her another reason to make up some lame excuse on why she couldn't go. Lack of formal clothing.
Nice one, genius.
"Hey Brittany," Artie called, eyes flickering towards Santana, "Lopez." He deadpanned.
Santana rolled her eyes. She hadn't even done anything and he was already giving her the deadpan treatment. Fucking great.
"Abrams." She replied in the same manner as the jock, smirking when she received a small snarl.
Quinn bounced past Artie, with alcohol fuelling the cheeriness, and sat down on the arm of the chair Santana was occupying. She looked up, and creased her face quizzically, slightly put off by the blonde's enhanced closeness. Especially considering, you know, the whole minor 'break up' thing. A sky blue gaze burned a hole into the side of her temple, and she didn't even turn to acknowledge Brittany's eyes.
"Uh, Q?" Santana questioned wearily.
Quinn grinned and swayed slightly, "Yeah S?"
She gestured to the small space between them and then looked expectantly back up to the blonde. However Quinn just shrugged and beckoned Artie in, who of course, took a seat next to Brittany – close enough so their thighs were touching, and close enough that Santana let out, yes actually let out, a small growl. She ducked her head, missing the way Brittany snapped her head up and instead she focused on her Chucks, finally remembering how underdressed she felt.
"Do you have anything, I could like, borrow? I kind of feel underdressed." Santana gestured to her outfit.
Quinn looked at her quizzically for a moment, like she'd just spoken Chinese and then doing a once over of her outfit, "Yeah. Hold on."
The head Cheerio sprinted up the stairs and Santana settled back into the armchair, fiddling with the loose thread on the right arm. She could feel Brittany staring at her, but she said nothing. A few giggles came from the sofa, and Santana felt her hands tighten; her knuckles whiten against her skin and her teeth grit. It took everything she had not to look and see what was happening. Instead, she kept her eyes trained on the fireplace, watching the flame flicker every now and then.
Two seconds later, Quinn bounded down the stairs with a small, black dress in her right hand and headed towards Santana, who pushed off up the sofa and met her ex halfway, not wanting to be near the giggling couple on the sofa anymore.
"You know where the bathroom is." Quinn handed over the dress.
Santana smiled lightly, "Thanks." And then she headed towards the bathroom.
She locked the door behind her and stripped out of her clothing, folding everything and placing them on top of each other on the kitchen counter. After she slipped into the dress, she unclipped her hair and let it tumble down past her shoulders. A quick search of the bathroom cabinet, and she found mascara and lip gloss. With a shrug, she applied them both quickly and puckered her lips, trying to make herself look half presentable. Except for the fact that her eyes looked like she rolled out of bed about two hours ago and head-butted a door.
"Fuck it." She said as she swung open the door, grasping her clothes and headed into the foyer.
As soon as she approached it, Quinn glanced over from the armchair she'd previously been occupying, and her eyes widened. Santana dipped her head in embarrassment, and continued until she felt a particular pair of eyes on her. As she looked up, she found the certain pair of brilliant blue orbs sparkling at her. Brittany's mouth drooped into a silent 'oh' and she watched as the blonde licked her lips. Smugness immediately shot through her and she felt gratefully satisfied by it as Brittany's eyes beamed with adoration and… Arousal maybe?
Santana gulped and looked back to Quinn who was virtually giving her the same look, but she didn't care. All she was thinking about was how fucking brilliant it was for Brittany to be looking at her like that, whilst Artie was sitting right next to her.
Fucking brilliant.
The party was crowded, (like most of the McKinley parties Santana had attended were), by the time they got there, and Santana could barely see a thing. There was so many bodies it seemed hard to believe that this many people could fit in a room without dying from lack of oxygen or something. But somehow, everyone was still able to dance in the make-shift dance floor previously known as the living room.
Mike's house was freakin' huge. Unlike most of the Jocks and Cheerio's, it wasn't down Prosperous Avenue, and instead it was nearing the other side of town. According to Quinn, Mike's parents were like really important in Lima since his Dad was a hotshot lawyer and his mom a doctor or dentist, Santana wasn't sure which one, she'd tuned out listening to Quinn when Artie ran his hand up Brittany's thigh in the front of the car.
Santana had pretty much bolted from the stupid damn couple after they'd arrived, and quickly grabbed a vodka and Coke, which majorly lacked on the Coke side considering it'd only been about half an hour and Santana's head was already spinning. But she didn't want to get drunk, and she pretty much stopped drinking when she saw Brittany with Artie, leaning up against the far wall with his hand resting dangerously low on the dancer's hip.
Sober Santana? Could handle Bartie. Drunk Santana? Not so much.
There had been a few parents there, but most of them had flooded as soon as Azimio had cracked out the keg and shouted 'PARTY!' at the top of his lungs. So there she was, standing alone on the decking of the Chang's house, cigarette in hand and breathing out the toxic fumes in small circles, watching a few couples making out near the bottom of the garden.
Well, that was until a group of jocks tumbled out the back door, armed with a bottle of Smirnoff and a football. They started chucking it around the garden, almost taking Santana's drink off the railing that she'd balanced it off, and cheering when the ball hit the team's nerdy water boy. Who the hell would come to one of these parties if they knew they were going to be bullied? Stupid water boy.
Damn, someone's snappy.
Santana took a final drag of the cigarette before flicking it into the nearby bush and grabbing her drink. She sipped it tentatively, still feeling the burn down the back of her throat and wishing she wouldn't react stupidly if she got drunk – but inevitably knowing she definitely would do something she'd regret. Maybe punch Artie? Or declare her supressed feelings for her ex-girlfriends best friend? Neither of which really took her fancy.
She started shaking her head, and then stopped abruptly as she turned around. Brittany was leaning against the door, one foot to the floor and the other pressed against the wood. Her arms were hidden behind her back, but her elbows were bent and sticking out from either side. There was something that Santana could only work out to be disappointment as blue eyes flickered from Santana to her left and Santana only followed the line of sight, eyeing a random bush. Which confused the hell out of her.
"Since when do you smoke?" Brittany asked after a few seconds.
Ah, there we go.
Santana clenched her jaw, "Since when do you care?"
The blonde narrowed her eyes, "You didn't answer my question."
"Neither did you."
What seemed like a huge electrical explosion sparked between the two. Despite their quick retorts and serious underlying and ignored issues, there was undeniable chemistry that they both seemed to sense – and grins took over their faces in sync.
"So why are you avoiding me again?"
Santana shuffled, and leant back against the railing with her elbows. "I'm not."
Brittany pushed off the wall and took a few steps closer, "You are."
"So what if I am? I'm sure you've got other company."
The blonde cocked her head to the side and suddenly Santana felt very uncomfortable. She ran her tongue along her teeth, feeling her hands shake as blue eyes examined her intensely. A heavy exhale escaped her lips and she crossed her arms, half-crushing the empty cup whilst waiting the study to finish. After a few seconds, she stopped tapping her foot and glared back at the blonde,
"Are you done yet?" Santana spat.
Brittany grinned. Actually grinned, despite Santana's tone. She wasn't exactly sure what happened in the next few seconds, but before she could even object or agree to anything, Brittany had grabbed her by the wrist and half-threw her into a shed. Within seconds Santana's body had taken over and pushed the blonde up against the wooden wall, feeling it creak under the pressure of both of the girls leaning against it.
Brittany's eyes were closed, and Santana brought a hand up to the other girl's face as her soft, half-smiling lips hovered about a centimetre away from Brittany's, feeling them ghost over each other with anticipation. Her heart was pounding a mile a minute and her breathing had turned into panting somewhere along the line. Her throat was running drier by the second, and the heat between the two girl's body was growing by the millisecond. They were so damn close to kissing, so damn close it almost pained Santana – but she wanted to marvel in the moment. All the other times they'd kissed, she hadn't even hesitated, she hadn't thought about anything, and frankly, should've done because she hadn't been single.
But then, then she was single and suddenly everything was running through her damn mind. Every memory, every touch, every kiss between her and Brittany raced through her mind and she started thinking of consequences. How fucking inconvenient.
"What are we doing?" Brittany breathed, her eyes still squeezed shut.
Santana rested her forehead against the blonde's feeling slightly disappointed that Brittany had broken the intense moment by speaking. She inhaled, feeling the blonde's unique, sweet taste on her tongue and moaned lightly at it.
"I don't know." She whispered back breathlessly.
They hadn't even been kissing and Santana was already out of fucking breath. It was ridiculous the effect Brittany had on her. But still pretty damn good. Santana pulled back the slightest bit, opening her eyes and whimpering in sync with the blonde at the loss of contact.
Brittany's shaky hands slid up to cup Santana's face, and her eyelids cracked open the slightly bit to reveal her sapphire orbs, which seemed to be glowing brighter than Santana had ever seen before. It almost took Santana's breath away, and she swore that there was no better sight than seeing the blonde girl like this, up so close and without doubt in her eyes.
"Okay."
"Okay?" Santana repeated.
Brittany's eyes flickered down to Santana's lips and then back up again, "Okay."
And then they kissed. Santana's eyes rolled into the back of her head as soon as Brittany's lips met hers. She wanted to deepen the kiss, but suddenly she was hesitant. She'd never been hesitant before when it came to kissing the dancer, but this kiss seemed completely different from any of their other kisses. Maybe it was because back then Santana wasn't single, maybe it was because back then Brittany said it was a mistake, but maybe; just maybe, it was because this kiss seemed to speak a louder volume than any amount of words.
They hadn't gone passed just keeping their lips pressing against each other, and the urge was burning inside Santana's stomach to prolong it – but she didn't want to ruin the moment. However as she thought Brittany was about to pull away, the blonde ran her soft tongue along Santana's bottom lip. And Santana moaned. Loudly.
She felt Brittany smile into the kiss, and arch herself further into the kiss. Santana ran her hands down the blonde's toned arms, feeling the muscles twitch under her touch and inwardly smirking at it. When they reached the dancer's trim waist, she gripped it tightly and applied the smallest of pressures to her fingertips, massaging in small circles as she opened her mouth.
It seemed like a freakin' dream how easily their mouths moved in sync. And as soon as she breathed in deeply through her nose, she felt Brittany's tongue part her lips further and then a tongue swipe lazily against her own. A groan escaped one of them, but she wasn't sure which one and continued to deepen the kiss. Their tongues glided and massaged one another, savouring each other's taste and both wanting more.
Pale hands slid into dark hair, and Santana found her face being secured to Brittany's face. Nothing felt better than this, her mouth moving in a practiced rhythm with Brittany's had to be one of the best thing, if not the best thing, she'd ever experienced. And all irrational thoughts including punching a small, scrawny jock with nerdy glasses flew straight out her brain and for the few minutes the kissing went on – it was just them.
But soon enough their body's needs kicked in and they parted for air, panting heavily as their foreheads pressed against each other. Santana tried to open her eyes, but found herself struggling as her head started spinning at the sheer memory of kissing Brittany, and when she ran her tongue along her lips, tasting the memory of Brittany, she almost fucking fainted.
"I'm not dating Artie," Brittany whispered, breaking the silence. "Just in case you wanted to know." She added quickly.
Santana opened her eyes and saw honestly shine in Brittany's eyes. She felt her lips tug up at the side, and ducked her head further; squeezing the blonde's waist a bit to make sure she wasn't actually dreaming. Hope fluttered throughout her stomach and a slight flush darkened her cheeks as Brittany groaned as their bodies pressed against each other.
Thank God.
But there was a question still nagging her in the back of her mind, even if she was like over the fucking moon, it was still there. And the thought of it just brought back some of the anger from earlier.
"But at the party…" There was something innately vulnerable about her tone. Santana hadn't meant it to come out like that, it just had.
Brittany squinted her eyes quickly, before shaking her head and releasing her bottom lip, "We were just talking."
"Quinn said you two were like…"
"Like what?" Brittany asked calmly, sliding her hands down tanned arms until she reached hands, where she laced their fingers with each other.
Santana almost forgot to answer the blonde's question as her skin burned at the dancers touch. Not as in a painful burn, but as in an ohmygodwe'reholdinghands burn.
But she refocused and shook her head, answering the blonde's question. "Together."
Brittany squinted for a moment, and then cocked her head to the side whilst a smirk spread across her face. "Santana, we were just talking. Like friends. Talking."
"Talking?" Santana scoffed, lowering her head slightly to hide her obvious jealousy, and feeling the ashes of it burn in the pit of her stomach, "With his hands?"
The blonde grinned widely and brown eyes looked from side to side, with a quizzical expression plastering her face. "Why are you laughing?"
"You're jealous."
It was more of a statement than a question. And Santana tried to open her mouth to deny it, but instead she stood there looking stupid with her mouth opening and closing several times and nothing coming out.
"It's cute."
Santana stared incredulously at the blonde. She'd been called a lot of things before, like pretty, hot, banging, but cute? Never.
"Cute?" Santana grinned stupidly.
"Cute." Brittany repeated with affection lacing her tone.
Santana couldn't restrain the urge as she leant forward and brought their lips together in a soft, sweet kiss. She pulled away reluctantly and felt her heart pound harder at the sight of Brittany sighing with her eyes closed. Apparently the effect Brittany had on Santana, also went the other way.
"So what are we doing?" Santana asked warily. She didn't want to bring up the question, but she knew she wanted this. She wanted to be able to kiss Brittany whenever she wanted. She wanted to hold her hand down the school hallways and lead her to her classrooms, have small I love you more/No, I love you more fights and all that cliché bullshit that couples had.
Brittany pecked Santana one the lips one last time before sliding away and heading to the opposite side of the shed. She questioned the blonde for a quick moment, and then took a step which was interrupted quickly,
"No, stay there," Santana frowned and Brittany grinned, "We won't talk unless we're apart."
Santana smirked, "And that's a bad thing because…"
"We need too," Brittany bit her bottom lip, "And I know if I'm within two metres of you I won't be able to restrain myself from kissing you. So you stay on your side and I'll stay on mine."
God the things she does to me.
Santana leaned back against the wall, mimicking Brittany's earlier position and took in a deep breath. "Okay, let's talk."
"You just broke up with Quinn like last week."
Okay, not exactly what I'd been expecting.
"And she's my best friend." Brittany continued.
"I know Britt. But… What I feel for you. I just…"
Something sparkled in the blonde's eyes and she jerked forward slightly before Santana shook her head, "Nuh uh, your rules. You stay over your side."
"Tease."
Santana cocked her head to the side quickly, "Learned from the best."
"Before anything happens between us," Brittany gestured between her and Santana, "I need to talk to Quinn."
In that moment Santana knew there were better things they could be doing than talking about Quinn, and anything sounded better than doing so. She still felt guilty and didn't want Quinn to get in the way of her and Brittany. But it was inevitable. Shit happened and there were consequences to having feelings for her ex-girlfriends best friends.
"Okay," Santana breathed, "We'll talk to Quinn. I'm not having you on your own."
Brittany shook her head and moved towards Santana, threading their fingers together and pulling their bodies flush against each other. "No San, you've gotta let me on my own. Quinn won't do anything. I just can't have her finding out about this any other way. It has to come from me."
She wanted to argue. She wanted to tell Brittany that Quinn won't take it lightly. Mostly because she promised Quinn that there was no-one else, and if they suddenly came out and told her this, it was pretty obvious they lied. But then again, it would also mean they wouldn't have to stop hiding. And Santana wanted Brittany so much it was almost killing her.
So instead she nodded reluctantly and bit her lip, "Okay. But I want to be around at least. Just in case."
"Just in case? She's not going to do anything San. She's my best friend."
The Latina leant forward and pressed a quick kiss to the side of Brittany's mouth, "That's what worries me Britt. I know she won't do anything but, I just, I want to make sure you're safe."
Brittany grinned and Santana felt the blonde's heart pound between their chests. "Okay. Fine, you can be around. But not tonight."
"Not tonight." Santana agreed and leaned forward once more, quickly admiring Brittany's angelic face before their lips pressed against each other. Brittany's fingers lingered over tanned cheeks, stroking gently over the soft skin whilst Santana ran her hands up and down the dancers clothed ribs.
She opened her mouth and Brittany's tongue was welcome warmly as they remained close, pushed up against each other intimately and taking in every inch of each other's clothed body as much as possible. Tongues retracted and Santana melted into Brittany's lips further as the blonde took her bottom lip between her lips and sucked gently. Within a few seconds, Santana felt the dancer graze her teeth lightly against her bottom lip and she smiled into the kiss as her lip was taken between a perfect set of teeth.
"We need to," Brittany pecked Santana's lips, interrupting her sentence, "Get back to," Another peck, "The party before," Another peck, "Someone notices," Another peck, "We're missing."
She felt all strength disappear as Brittany deepened the kiss and their hands found each other, threading together intimately as their tongues danced against one another. But a bang against the shed door broke them from their trance and the jumped apart, both whimpering loudly at the loss.
Brown eyes locked with blue and the urge to leap forward and return to kissing burned through her veins, but instead she moved towards the door and pressed her hand against it, pushing it open slightly. She peered out and saw a Jock jogging away with a football in hand and throwing it into the distance.
"It was just the Jocks chucking about the ball," Santana murmured, turning back to Brittany who was more than a metre away. Not cool. "But we really do need to get back."
The blonde seemed reluctant, and hell, Santana definitely was too. But the dancer walked over, no scratch that, glided over and took the Latina's hand between her own, threading their fingers together.
"Okay." Brittany reasoned with a smile, "Do I look okay?"
Santana brought her free hand up and swept it gently over Brittany's temple, lingering over her soft, pale cheeks and ignoring the way the blonde's lips were slightly swollen. It was kind of a turn on and she knew if she focused on that they definitely wouldn't be leaving the shed anytime soon.
"Beautiful."
With a deep breath, Santana pushed the door open and walked out, towards Mike who was standing with Puck and Rachel. Who seemed freakishly close for friends. They all started talking animatedly, not remembering that she was holding hands with Brittany, but standing so close that it wasn't obvious. And Santana felt content. She felt pretty damn happy that she could do this without anyone judging.
Well, that wouldn't last for long.
Quinn stumbled out the house, and onto the deck, clutching a red cup and looking with hazy half-hooded eyes towards Santana and Brittany. The Latina whipped her hand away from Brittany's, not bothering to look at the hurt that she knew was flashing across the blonde's face.
Shit, had Quinn caught them?
The brunette gulped, feeling curiosity and slight panic flash through her body as the blonde narrowed her eyes and smiled mischievously. Something about that smile worried Santana, and she involuntarily moved even closer to Brittany, standing slightly in front of her as if the small blonde was about to shoot the dancer.
"So," Quinn announced with slight amusement lacing her tone, "Let's all play a game."
Santana looked to Rachel who was standing no more than two foot away with Puck next to her. She gulped and the small brunette shot her an oh-shit expression, which only ignited the panic. Quinn staggered forward another few steps, tripping over her heels and towards the table in front of Santana and Brittany.
By this time the majority of the football squad were around, including Mike, Puck, Azimio, Artie and Sam to name a few, and a considerable amount of the Cheerio's were too. She was pretty sure Mercedes was standing near Sam, and the Asian that got slushied a few days back, Tina, was there too. But Santana didn't bother noting who was there; she was barely focusing on anyone except Quinn who was swaying from side to side with an evil smirk on her face. But she sure as hell knew she was surrounded by people. And that just worried her even more.
"Any ideas?" Quinn grinned to herself, "How about you bestie?" She asked Brittany who widened her eyes, "Got any ideas?"
The dancer took a tentative step forward, and hostility radiates off Quinn, almost visibly. Santana cupped the blonde's wrist, and tugged her to a halt, pleading silently not to do or say anything for that matter. But Brittany softened her face and smiled lightly. And Santana understood that look, so she let go and clasped her hangs together in front of her.
"Quinn, what are you doing?" Brittany questioned calmly.
The head Cheerio held Brittany's gaze intensely, and Santana saw the way the blonde looked irate. Almost scarily irate. "I'm just trying to liven up the party with a game."
Quinn spun around, looking at everyone in the small half-crescent that'd formed in front of her like an audience and raised both hands,
"Is anyone up for a game? Brittany? Santana?" She asked curiously and challengingly.
Something clicked in Brittany, and Santana watched as sheer horror blanketed the dancers face. The same emotion was mirrored inside the Latina and she took a tentative step forward to stand next to Brittany, her hand hovering by the blonde's wrist as if she'd need to whip her away at any second.
Quinn snarled and her eyes darted down to Brittany and Santana's hands, which were innocently hanging next to each other – they weren't even brushing, mostly because the brunette made a point of making sure that wouldn't happen. The head Cheerio made her way slowly around the round table separating the Latina and dancer, until she was over the other side standing next to Puck and Rachel, who were about five metres away.
"How about a game of truth or dare?" Quinn continued sharply, her eyes smouldering, and not in the sexy way.
The Latina's heart plummeted. She could feel everyone's eyes on her and she held her breath, hoping and praying that what she thought was coming next, wasn't going too.
"Or maybe just dare, because nobody knows how to tell the truth anymore apparently."
Quinn shots Santana a quick glare. And she knew the blonde was referring to yesterday's denial of there being anyone else.
Fuck.
Once again, Santana moved further in front of Brittany, and she could feel her heart beat pound inside her ears. Her throat was running dry, and she felt the intense pressure build upon her. It was insecurity. And she didn't like it one bit.
"So, Brittany," Quinn cocked her head to the side with a smug smile, "I dare you…" She tapped her chin, feigning the need to think of a question. But Santana saw the question before the head Cheerio had even spoken it. "I dare you to show all of us how you really feel."
Santana heard the dancer's breath hitch, and she crossed her arms, restraining the urge to snake her arm around Brittany's waist in a comforting gesture. When Quinn finally looked back with a horrifically evil smirk, Santana's face fell and she took a challenging step towards her ex-girlfriend.
"Quinn…" She warned, her voice deep and serious. "Don't."
Fair eyebrows rose, and hazel eyes met mocha ones quickly before glancing over Santana's shoulder back towards the blonde. It was too late; she could see the words forming on the tip of Quinn's tongue before she'd even said it. And there was nothing she could do to prevent it.
"Show all of us how you really feel," Quinn repeated for emphasis, edging around the chair and coming closer to Santana, "By kissing Santana."
DUH DUH DUHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Did that come off right?
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