Chapter 4: Closer
You're actually surprised at how much you enjoy working here. In the three months since you've started, you've acquired the reputation of being a 'hard but understanding' teacher. Brittany likes to tease you about it because she says it's all an act that you put on so that no one knows how sweet you really are.
You don't even attempt to correct her because she doesn't know your past. She doesn't know that you're only sweet with her.
"Britt, I have a favor to ask." You nervously bounce on the balls of your feet at the doorway of Brittany's classroom. She's sitting at her desk, reading the daily paper, her feet propped up casually on top of her desk.
At the sound of your voice, she looks up from behind her newspaper and glances at the clock on the wall. It's early in the morning, which is unusual for you, so it explains why she looks at you questioningly. She wasn't expecting to see you so early, but still there's a glint in her eyes. Carefully, she she folds up the newspaper and moves her feet off her desk.
"Should I be nervous?" Her eyebrow is raised in question and you smile, shaking your head.
"Remember when you kidnapped me and forced me to eat half of your lunch? Well, it was really good, and I can't stop thinking about it."
"Ahh." She smirks. "You want the recipe." Standing from her chair, she walks around her desk and sits at the edge of it. She motions to the student desk in front of her, "Have a seat, Ms. Lopez."
You chuckle at her and do as your told, ignoring the heat that rises to your cheeks as you feel her eyes follow you.
"What if I told you it was a secret family recipe?" Her eyes narrow. "Why should I give it to you for free?"
"Bri-" You try, but she stops you with a pointed look and you roll your eyes, deciding to play along, "Ms. Pierce," you continue and she smiles, "I've tried a few other recipes but they never come out as good as yours."
Brittany scrunches her face up as she pretends to ponder your words. You try not to laugh at how ridiculous she's being. She's extra playful today. You like it.
"Plus," you click your tongue, "you still owe me for Halloween."
She laughs, "Okay, fine. But, I have conditions. Invite me over and I'll help you make it. That way I know you won't mess it up."
"I'm free tonight?" You're quick to offer and you internally scold yourself at your eagerness. You need to be more careful.
Brittany smiles softly, "Tonight it is then."
You actually have to work hard to hide your excitement because you would have been content with just getting the damn recipe. Now you'll have the recipe and dinner with Brittany. You stand and offer her your hand to seal the deal.
A new development is the fact that you now sit in on Brittany's class after lunch since you're already there and you have a free period with no music classes. Honestly, this job is more laid back than you originally thought it would have been but you're not about to start complaining.
Not when you get to watch Brittany teach from the back of her classroom.
To say that Brittany S. Pierce is an unconventional teacher is putting it lightly. She really is the most interesting person you've ever meet and you're still not quite sure how her brain works. The students genuinely enjoy being in her class and you can easily see why she's the school favorite. Her class is always filled with laughter and you feel almost honored to witness it when a student's faces light up once they finally understand a particularly hard math problem.
You don't know why it became a regular thing to watch Brittany teach. You like to tell yourself that you just want to learn more about her. Math was never your strong suit, but if you had someone like Brittany as a teacher, you think school would have been a little more enjoyable.
You sit back in your chair and relax into the seat. You still have a few assignments to grade but when you look up and make eye contact with Brittany you catch a little glimmer in her eyes. Next thing you know you're at the front of the class - practically dying from laughter - while Brittany demonstrates probability using you, a pair of dice, a banana, string, and some marbles. You don't know how she comes up with these things, but you love it.
When it gets closer to the end of class, Brittany hands out a pop quiz and every student groans in unison. You retreat to the back of the class as Brittany takes her seat in the front. Periodically, you look up to check on the students scribbling quickly on their tests. You catch Brittany's eyes and giggle when she makes a funny face at you.
It's nice, this relationship you've developed with her. You've grown even closer these past few weeks and you're almost giddy at the idea of having an actual best friend. You've never really had one of those before. Well, technically you have but none like Brittany. None that you actually want to spend this much time with.
A student stands to hand in his test and returns to his seat. You watch him closely as he attempts to go on his phone to pass the time. Kids these days are so dumb.
"Ahem." You clear your throat, and he turns in his seat slowly. "Don't you have homework you can work on?" You narrow your eyes, knowing he's in your earlier class. You really shouldn't be so smug. This is exactly why you have that stupid reputation.
"Sorry, Ms. Lopez." He apologizes and drops his phone back into his book bag.
Your laptop to your left dings and you're quick to turn the sound off before checking the message.
Pierce, B: Sorry, Ms. Lopez.
You almost snort. When you look up, Brittany's casually reading the daily paper, the same one you already know she read from this morning. This time though, there's a small hint of a smile on her lips.
Lopez, S: Ms. Pierce, don't you have some grading to do?
You watch her roll her eyes when she reads your message.
Pierce, B: I rather not. It gets boring really fast when I'm just sitting here. I hate tests...
You have to laugh a little because you know she really does hate them. She's told you on more than one occasion that she prefers to teach by standing in front and talking with her students. If she could, you know she would never give out another test. Your computer notifies you of another message and you see that Brittany sent a second message.
Pierce, B: Hey, let's ditch this place. We could go get a smoothie! I know a great place down the street.
Lopez, S: Britt, we're in a classroom full of students. We can't just leave.
Pierce, B: Yeah but if you leave first and I leave second then no one would think anything of it.
Lopez, S: I hate to tell you this, Britt, but that doesn't really work in this kind of situation…
Pierce, B: You need to loosen up, Santana. Have a little fun in life!
You look up, so you can scold her with your eyes but catch another student trying to use their phone. Clearing your throat, this time louder than the last, you get the whole classes attention.
"Just a reminder that all cell phones should be OFF and in your school bags. Next time I see one I'll be collecting phones from the entire class. You'll be able to collect them from me at the end of school." Your voice is firm, and the students know better by now than to test you. You see an overall shift as they straighten their backs and pull in their chairs. No one daring enough to look back. Brittany is already frowning deeply when you look back to her.
Pierce, B: Ms. Lopez, that was mean.
Lopez, S: That was hardly mean.
Pierce, B: See, this is why the other teachers are too scared to talk to you.
Lopez, S: What on earth are you talking about? I am an absolute JOY to be around.
Pierce, B: You're completely hopeless. I don't know what to do with you.
Lopez, S: Maybe you need to start respecting me as much as the students do, Ms. Pierce.
You look up and watch her as she reads your message. An eyebrow goes up at first and then her lips pull into a grin. You make a mental note to play poker with her sometime. Her tell is so obvious.
Pierce, B: Oh, really now? Well, you're just going to have to make me then.
Lopez, S: It wouldn't be too hard. I can be very persuasive. In more ways than one.
You regret your reply the moment you press send. That was definitely going too far. You look up and hope that Brittany doesn't read into it in the way that you definitely did not mean to make it sound.
You watch carefully as she looks at her screen, a faint tint of pink forms across her cheeks. When she looks up at you, you duck your head to avoid her eyes. Shortly after, you receive Brittany's reply.
Pierce, B: Tonight's gonna be fun then.
Your eyes immediately dart up to Brittany, hoping for the chance to read her body language. She's already looking at you expectantly and when your eyes meet, she winks. You feel your heart stop.
Or at least that's what your brain thinks happened. You're pretty sure this could be misconstrued as flirting. You and Brittany. Flirting. You shake the thought away. You're obviously reading into this wrong. This is Brittany you're talking about. This is just how best friends talk to each other.
You tell yourself to stop looking too into things. You tell the butterflies in your stomach to simmer down. It's too silly for you to even entertain the idea that Brittany is flirting with you. Look around at where you are. You're finally in a good place in life right now. You finally have a best friend and a good job. Don't mess this up. Not again.
Shaking your head, you look up slowly and Brittany seems unfazed. She's begun to grade the few tests that have been turned in. She's concentrated, tongue slightly sticking out. You turn back to your computer.
Lopez, S: Gotta go, Britt. Gonna head back to my classroom before next period.
You pick up your things and leave it at that.
Looking at yourself in the mirror, you check your hair and outfit one more time. You hope Brittany finds your place okay. You glance back at the living room and do a mental check to make sure everything looks okay.
You spent the last half hour rearranging the couch pillows because you weren't sure about the color scheme. Now that you're looking at them again, you hate how it looks.
Before you can move to change it again, your doorbell rings. Taking a deep breath, you rub your hands on your jeans to dry your sweaty palms. You don't know why your hands are betraying you in this way, it's just dinner with your best friend. It's just dinner with Brittany.
You open the door and your eyes land on Brittany's beaming face. You glance down at her outfit, seeing her in something other than her work clothes. She's wearing ripped jeans and a slightly oversized t-shirt. She's also holding a bottle of wine in her hand. She looks absolutely adorable.
It isn't until she shifts in place that you realize you might have been staring a little too long.
"Sorry, come in."
"Thank you." She steps inside and you watch nervously as she looks around, taking in your home. When you shut the door behind her, she speaks up again. "I like it here." She turns, smiling at you. "It's very, Santana."
You don't know what she means by that, but you accept it. You think it's because of the darker walls and the way everything is put away in its own little place. Or maybe it's the keyboard piano you have tucked in the corner of the living room, where a normal person would have put a TV. But you don't have a TV. You haven't been living here long but you've at least managed to make it home in your own kind of way.
You lead her into the kitchen and she puts the wine bottle down on the counter. You grab two wine glasses and place them next to the bottle.
"Wine first, then cooking?" You ask.
"Definitely."
About an hour later, you've both polished off the bottle that Brittany brought and now your opening one of your own. Cooking with Brittany is about as calm as cooking with a monkey. It's hectic. Add alcohol to the mix and your kitchen is a complete mess. You don't exactly mind because seeing Brittany this relaxed and carefree makes it all worth it.
At one point during cooking, you put some music on. After a few songs, you couldn't help but sing along. This urged Brittany on - or maybe the wine did - to grab your arm, pulling you near her to dance with the music.
When the song finishes, you're out of breath and so is Brittany. She goes back to the oven, remembering that she was supposed to be watching it.
"You shouldn't hide your talents, Santana. You have a beautiful singing voice." She tells you as you cut some lettuce for the salad and put it in a bowl.
You actually laugh at that, "You're one to talk, Ms. Dance Extraordinaire." You quip back, and she blushes. She wasn't exactly dancing a full routine, but when you think back to her waltzing and now tonight, you could tell that she's experienced.
There's a loud beep and Brittany opens the oven slightly to inspect if the fish is cooked to her liking. Satisfied with how it looks, she moves closer to you to grab the oven mitts on the counter beside you. You're sort of in the middle so when she reaches around your waist, she inadvertently pushes you forward into the counter with her body.
Your breath hitches, and Brittany notices your reaction.
"Sorry," she whispers near your ear, "I thought they were closer to me."
It takes you a second, but you manage to mumble, "No problem." You feel the heat rise on your skin, but you think it must be because of all the wine you've been drinking. Thankfully, the moment is over quickly when Brittany reaches the oven mitts and moves away from you.
You walk out of the kitchen as soon as your free from her and go to set the table. Brittany walks in with the food just as you finish. You tell her where to put it down before running back into the kitchen to grab the salad.
"I don't think my home has ever smelt this good before." You tell her, and she laughs.
"I thought you said you tried other recipes? I'm sure they all smell just as similar." She takes her seat and you sit across from her.
"I lied. I just needed an excuse to steal your secret recipe." You smirk, and she feigns shock. You take a bite of the fish and you groan at how good it is, making her giggle.
"It's just a simple baked salmon, Santana. You don't have to pretend to love it."
You look up from stuffing your face, "No really," You try your best to not look like a caveman, "It's so good, Brittany." She just shakes her head in disbelief and giggles again at your antics.
Dinner goes on without Brittany mentioning your slip up during your earlier conversation in her classroom and you're glad. You don't think you can handle talking about that right now. Not when you're both a few glasses of wine in and you're alone with her in your house.
Instead the conversation floats to the usual subjects. She asks about your childhood and where you grew up and all you tell her is Ohio. Thankfully, she gets the hint and stays away from that topic. You ask her about the church and she mumbles something about not having to talk about it if you don't want to. She knows it's another touchy subject for you but still, you feel bad that she thinks you'd think less of her for being religious.
She quickly moves on to talk about work, and you tell her who your favorite students are. This of course prompts her to scold you for even having favorite students.
"You must have favorites, Britt. It's only natural."
"First of all, all students are special in their own way."
"Yeah yeah. But some are just a little more special."
"You're horrible."
"Oh come on, you have to have favorites. At least one." You watch as her eyes look to the ceiling. "Right there. You just thought of someone."
"Santana…"
You laugh at her pout and she blushes. You don't let her leave the dining table until she reluctantly reveals who all of her favorite students are but only under the promise of never having to speak of it again.
The night ends with Brittany helping you clean up your kitchen. You tried to stop her, but she reasoned with you by saying she made most of the mess. Which although true, you weren't about to let her clean your kitchen by herself. It at least allowed you both the time to sober up for her to drive home safely.
After the kitchen is spotless, you walk her to the front door and open it for her. She almost walks across the threshold but stops herself short and turns to you suddenly. You're about to ask her if she forgot anything when she takes a step forward and wraps her arms around your neck, pulling you in for a hug.
You're frozen. This is new territory for you. It's only ever been shoulder nudges, high fives, and fist bumps. Cautiously, you embrace her at her waist and hold her softly.
"Thanks for tonight." she whispers.
"Anytime, Britt." You find yourself whispering as well and you breathe in her scent. Reluctantly, you pull back and she tucks her hair behind her ear before turning around and leaving. You watch as her car drives down the street until it's no longer in your line of sight.
Later that night, you lie in bed and your phone lights up with a notification. You roll over and grab it, smiling when you see Brittany's name.
Britt: Just so you know, I lied too. When I said it was a family recipe…
San: So that wasn't some super secret Pierce family recipe?
Britt: Nope. I just needed an excuse to invite myself over.
You blush softly as a small smile begins to find its way onto your face.
San: I'm so glad you did, Britt.
Britt: Me too, San. Sweet dreams.
When you read her message, you turn onto your back and place your phone on your chest. You can't stop the smile that spreads across your face. You look at your phone again and pay extra attention to the single kiss emoji she ended her message with.
You're in trouble.