The two weeks after Santana's disastrous date with Brittany are absolute hell. The first night they plan to have their do-over date, Santana ends up on a plane to St. Paul. There's a dispute over a heart for one of her patients, and she's going to be damn sure she's the one who gets it.
She does, of course. She waves around prognoses and finally ends up going before the hospital board, to fight for that little boy in New York, all while Mercedes is worrying about the heart not surviving if it takes any longer. But it's theirs, and five hours after they landed in St. Paul, they're on a plane back to New York, the heart in a cooler, attached to a machine that keeps it beating.
The surgery lasts into the night, and Santana is glad that she actually remembered to text Brittany, to apologize profusely for it. Brittany gets it though, in the way only another doctor would. Saving a life comes before all else. And save one she does. She watches that heart begin to beat in a new chest, she watches an eight year old pianist wake up in recovery, she watches his father cry, and feels his mother hug her. She's exhausted, and her hands are cramped, but before she passes out, she can't help but call Brittany. Celebrating with her, it feels right. Wanting to celebrate with her, it should scare her, but this time, it doesn't.
The second night they plan for their do-over date, Liam gets sick. Brittany pokes her head into Santana's office before she leaves, and she apologizes for having to cancel. Santana waves her off, and asks if she can do anything to help. Then, much to her own surprise, out of view of anyone in the hallway, she steals a quick kiss. She hadn't kissed her since their goodnight kiss, and for nine days it's all she's thought about.
That night, Brittany calls her. Santana is sprawled out on her couch, sipping red wine, and eating Thai noodles out of the container, and she smiles when she hears the phone ring. Brittany didn't have to call, Santana is sure she has her hands full, but she does. She does, and she whispers to Santana through the line, telling her that Liam is sleeping in her arms. It makes Santana's stomach flutter. It makes her heart skip a few beats. She's not sure why, but the idea of Brittany calling her like that, it feels like something special.
They said that the third time's the charm, except that in this case, it isn't. Or, maybe, blessing in disguise is a better saying for them. Fifteen days after their sushi date, Santana finally thinks they'll get together. Then Brittany texts her that the babysitter cancelled. It's only a half hour before they're suppose to leave, and frustrated, Santana groans, and debates what to do. She's sick of waiting. She's sick of only seeing Brittany when they run into each other getting coffee. She's sick of only talking to her on the phone.
Do you want to bring him? I won't feel bad if you say no. I totally get it, if you want to keep this separate from him. Or, alternatively, we can just pretend this is a friend thing, or that I invited *him* out. I don't care, whatever makes you comfortable. Totally your call.
You send the longest texts ever. ;) That sounds great, he'll be thrilled.
For Santana, knowing that Brittany's son will be there takes a lot of the pressure off. It's strange for her, since the idea of going out with someone with a child would have freaked her out wholly, and sent her running for the hills not long ago. But honestly, after her inability to behave like a normal human on her last day, she thinks a buffer is good. She thinks that being around a kid whose company she genuinely enjoys will make her less likely to drop an ice cream cone of Brittany's face, or…flood a building or something, depending on how disastrous she is.
"Doccer Santana!" When Santana approaches Brittany's house, she and Liam are sitting on the stoop, and he cheers for her arrival. "We gettin' hot dogs and ice cream!"
"Are we? No way!" She winks at him, accepting his hug around her leg, and the smile that Brittany gives her in response to it.
"You knowed that! Mama say you 'vited us!"
"Well she didn't keep my secret very well, did she, sir?"
"I still not sir."
"Ah, right. I'm sorry, Mr. Liam Connolly Pierce, I'll try and remember that." She pokes his belly, and he giggles and giggles.
"Li, baby, let's put your sweater on." Brittany calls him off Santana's leg, then gives her a little grin as she gets his arms in the sleeves. "Hi."
"Hey."
As they walk to the subway, Liam insists on holding both Brittany and Santana's hands, and if he weren't so small, Santana would have been sure that he'd run up ahead, leaving them holding each other's hands. But he's so little, and so content to chatter away between them.
Because of that, Santana assumes, she's able to act entirely normal. She pushes away Brittany's hand when she tries to pay for dinner, and although Liam talks almost the whole time, Santana feels like this is a muchbetter date. She's at ease with Brittany, and when Brittany offers her a lick of her custard cone, Santana doesn't hesitate to lean over, something that absolutely would have weirded her out before she met this woman.
They take a cab back uptown, and Liam, ever persistent, begs Santana to come read his book for bed. Brittany's eyebrows raise hopefully, and Santana nods in agreement, figuring maybe she can hang out for awhile after, talk to Brittany, maybe make out with her a little. Date things, on their non-date-like do-over date.
Santana uses the bathroom and splashes water on her face, as Brittany gets Liam into his pajamas. She'd been fine—better than fine—all night, but the thought of date things has a familiar knot of anxiety forming low in her belly. She takes a breath, then another, and then she tugs at her bra straps, checking herself in the mirror. She's fine, it's fine, but…she's still a little bit of a mess.
"Doccer Santana!" Liam shouts from the top of the stairs. "Hurry! Hurry! You needa read my book, okey!"
"Shh, Li, she'll be up when she's done. Come on, let's get your book picked, and you tucked in."
"I knows what book! Big train book!"
By the time Santana calms herself enough to get upstairs, Brittany has Liam wriggling beneath the covers. Santana stands in the doorway, just for a minute, to watch them. She should feel like she's intruding, but she doesn't. She hasn't been in there lives very long, but already, they've made her feel welcome. She can't explain the tightening she feels in her throat at the site of Brittany kissing the little boy's forehead, but she thinks, maybe, it comes from seeing a functional family. From the love they share. From a gratitude that she gets to witness it.
While she reads to Liam, Santana feels Brittany's eyes on her, and the heat creeps up the back of her neck. The way this woman looks at her, it's so foreign, and she doesn't know whether to run, terrified, or to grab her tight and attempt to keep her forever. That's the scariest thing for Santana, the way it goes against her natural instinct to run, to protect herself. The way she wants to stay here, in Brittany's warm, happy home, while everything in her screams to leave.
"I really appreciate tonight." Brittany tells Santana, once they're downstairs, and she's opened up a bottle of wine. "I'm sorry the babysitter cancelled."
"It's cool." Santana shakes her head, leaning against the high counter in the kitchen. "I'm just glad we still got to go."
"I owe you a real date though."
"You don't owe me anything, Brittany." She shrugs. "Liam's the biggest thing in your life. If I didn't want to spend time with him, you probably should just cut me out of your life now."
"I really, really appreciate that you understand that." Brittany hands get a glass of wine. "But I'd still like to take you out again, just us."
"So is that a…second or a third date?" Santana goes to smirk, but then freaks herself out, thinking of arbitrary dating rules and her own insecurities.
"It's whatever you want it to be, Santana." She takes a long sip of her own wine. "I mean that. We're doing this at whatever pace makes you comfortable."
"What I want right now is to kiss you."
"You won't get an argument on that from me."
Gulping down half the contents of her glass in one shot, Santana leans in. Someday, she decides, she won't need to do that before she kisses Brittany. But for now, her heart races so fast whenever she thinks about their lips touching. For now, she feels like she's less sloppy, and less likely to give Brittany a bloody nose when she's calmer. For now, she'll drink the wine first, and savor the taste of Brittany's lips after.
After they kiss for awhile in the kitchen, they end up moving to the living room. Brittany puts on a movie—she'd asked Santana what she wanted to watch, and she's pretty sure her answer was just a nod that didn't answer the question in any sort of way—and Santana finishes a second glass of wine. The two women talking about lilies on the screen makes her dizzy. The proximity to Brittany makes her dizzier.She smells her perfume, she feels the heat radiate from her thighs. She wonders, really, how you just start kissing someone again that you're kind of sort of dating. Does she just do it? Does she ask every time? Does she have to do that will-I-won't-I lean in sort of thing? She's really, really clueless.
It's Brittany's hand on her thigh, which gives Santana some sort of silent permission. She sets her glass down on the coffee table, and Brittany turns to meet her halfway. Her heart doesn't stop racing as she kisses her, kisses her, kisses her, deep and slow. She should be embarrassed when she moans into Brittany's mouth. She should be embarrassed when she presses closer to her, bending her knee up, and trying to get some leverage to kiss her how she wants. But she's not. She just wants more of Brittany. She just wants more of this dizzying sensation.
The way Brittany lets her dictate the pace does a lot to quiet the racing of Santana's mind, and she finds herself nodding, as Brittany lowers her back onto the couch. She sort of feels like she's going to pass out, when Brittany presses herself on top of her, bracing herself on her elbows, but if there's a good sort of pass out, this would be it.
"Still good?" Brittany murmurs into her ear. Her face is flushed, and her blonde hair is disheveled, and seeing her like this, seeing her usual polished facade evaporate, seeing that she's turned on by her makes her feel more comfortable in her own skin than ever before. Turns her on, more than ever before. "Santana?"
"Mmhm." She murmurs, realizing she forgot to answer. A whimper escapes her lips, when sharp teeth drag along the column of her neck, and she finds herself slipping her hands up under Brittany's t-shirt, trying to get her closer, trying to just get…some sort of friction.
She feels like a teenager, or, what she should have felt like as a teenager, involved in such a heavy make out session with Brittany. Hands wander over clothes, and when Brittany tentatively touches her covered breasts, Santana nods, nervous, but trusting. She's so sensitive there, and Brittany is so gentle, but the coil that forms in the pit of her stomach winds tighter and tighter, the heat in her chest burns hotter and hotter. She has to turn her head away for a moment, she has to breath, she has to prevent herself from embarrassing herself and coming from this like she's a thirteen-year-old boy. But she needs it, she aches for it, and that carnal desire has her pushing everything else aside, in favor of reaching it.
"Can we…" Santana pants, brushing Brittany's nose with her own. Even with blown pupils pushing out cerulean iris, she looks deep into those eyes. She sees reverence and desire. She sees someone who seems to care for her in a way she's never seen. She sees someone she can trust. "Can we go upstairs?"