Chapter 5: Flirt
The flirting doesn't stop. In fact, it's actually gotten a lot worse. In the past few weeks since dinner at your house, the subtle messages here and there have turned into obvious in-person interactions.
You tell yourself that it's just a thing you two do now. Like a game, where in the end, you'll both laugh at whoever blushes first. It's honestly sickening how much you're enjoying it, but you never imagined you'd ever feel this way with someone again. Especially given the setting you're in.
"Hey, hun." Brittany winks at you when you walk into her classroom with your lunch in hand. The new nickname is not lost on you as you try your very best to hold back the smile that tugs at your lips. She started saying it a few days ago and you can't help but feel the flutter in your chest every time.
The first time she said it actually stunned you. You didn't know how to react. She laughed when you awkwardly looked around to see if she was talking to you or someone else.
"Britt, although I'm loving the new nickname, you've got to stop calling me that before people around here start getting the wrong idea." You pull up a student's chair to the other side of her desk.
"You're no fun." She pouts, and you shake your head at her. She can be too cute for her own good sometimes. "What am I supposed to call you then?"
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe Santana? Or San? I'd even accept Ms. Lopez from time to time."
"But those names don't make you blush the way you do when I call you hun."
"I'm ethnic, sweetie. I don't blush." You challenge with a raised eyebrow and your own nickname for her.
Brittany's hardly fazed by that and instead grins back at you, leaning forward, accepting the challenge. "You mean to tell me," her voice lowers, "you really wouldn't blush if I were to I call you... babe?"
There goes your heart. You do your best to hold her stare but when her eyes cast down to your lips for split second you turn away, feeling the heat burn from your neck to your cheeks.
"Dammit, Britt!" You curse and she doubles over in laughter. You ignore the fact that the fluttering in your chest doesn't exactly go away.
You're sitting at one of your student's desks at the end of the day. It's late and the school is likely empty by now. Once you finished grading the last few projects, you felt a little inspired.
With headphones on, plugged into the keyboard, you conceal the soft sounds of the music you're creating. This isn't the first time you've done this and although you have a keyboard at home, there's just something compelling about playing here.
Quietly, you sing along as you play the familiar tune. The same song that you can't seem to get out of your head.
I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream
I know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam
From time to time, you'll catch yourself singing it. You don't dare admit to yourself that it's probably because it reminds you of a certain blonde. You know you shouldn't be feeling this way. You know it doesn't do you any good, but you can hardly stop yourself now. It's too late and you know it.
The feeling of eyes on you causes goosebumps to form on your skin but you ignore it. You're too focused on the music. It's only when the light flickers that you finally look up, finding Brittany standing in your doorway. Slowly, you take your headphones off. The simple sight of her standing there, a soft adoring smile on her lips, is enough to quicken the pace of your heartbeat.
"Hey." Slowly, she makes her way to the desk beside yours.
"I didn't think anyone was still here."
"Do you do that often?" She asks and you're unsure of what she's really asking. Stay after school to play on the keyboards? Or stay after school to play that song? Her song.
You shrug as your answer, not trusting your mouth to say the right thing.
"You really do have a beautiful voice, you know." The way she's looking at you, it's almost affectionately. "And I really like that song."
I know. Is what you want to say. Instead, you settle for a quiet nod. She mimics your nod and soon you're settled into a quiet silence. This happens more often nowadays and you're still cautious of what it means. It's not exactly comfortable but it's not uncomfortable either. All you know is every time, she's almost always unreadable like this.
"Sorry, did you need me for something?" You suddenly ask, realizing that she came to your classroom so she must have had a reason.
She shakes her head though, "No, I saw your light on from the hallway so I stopped by to check. But now that I have you here, what are your plans for tonight?"
You pretend to think about it for a little too long and she laughs, playfully pushing your shoulder. "Come back to my place." She proposes, and you raise an eyebrow at her suggestion.
"On a school night, Ms. Pierce? How irresponsible."
"Let's go, grandma." She rolls her eyes, laughing, and pulls you to your desk to grab your bag before pushing you completely out of your classroom. "It's movie night time!"
You walk into Brittany's house for the first time and smile. Just like you do every time you see her, her home has the same effect on you. It's bright and bubbly and very Brittany. You laugh to yourself because you remember that was how she described your home. Very Santana.
Your hands are occupied with grocery bags because obviously Brittany ordered you to make a pit stop for movie night snacks. When you asked about dinner, she looked almost offended.
Movie night is snacks only, Santana. And really, who are you to question her?
Brittany giggles when she notices you standing awkwardly, not knowing where to go, and she points you in the direction of the kitchen. You take that as your cue to move your feet, so you do as you're told, placing the paper bags on her kitchen counter.
"Okay, so clearly we have to watch this tonight." Brittany yells from the living room and you follow her voice back the way you came. When you get there, she's standing by the TV, holding up a DVD of Sleeping Beauty.
You laugh and tell her you're fine with it. She does a little jump of excitement before bending down to put it in the player. You take your seat on her couch and she runs into the kitchen.
When she returns, she plops down an armful of snacks onto her coffee table and clothes are thrown onto your lap. You inspect the pieces of clothing before looking questioningly at the blonde, quickly noticing the fact that she's already changed her clothes into similar ones.
"Movie Night is also pajamas only." She explains, and you chuckle at how adorable she is. Again, who are you to question her?
You make your way to the guest bathroom to change into Brittany's pajamas. Once you're in her clothes, you take a moment to appreciate what you're wearing. Brittany's pajama shorts are soft and cute, while her shirt, which looks like an old cheerleading shirt from her high school days, has the word EVANGELS spread out across the chest. Happy with how you look, you fix your hair one last time before heading back to the living room.
When she sees you, her eyes trace your figure and you think you catch a faint blush on her cheeks, but you ignore it as you take your place beside her on the couch.
The movie starts, and Brittany settles in, pulling her legs up onto her couch. You, on the other hand, do your very best to keep your eyes on the screen in front of you.
"You don't have to be so stiff, Santana. It's just me." Brittany giggles beside you and you let out the breath you've been unintentionally holding. Cautiously, you lean back, settling into her couch. You suppose she takes that as good enough because she doesn't say more. She hands you some snacks and you're grateful that you have something to keep your hands occupied instead of just awkwardly placing them on your lap.
About half an hour into the movie, you find yourself not really watching anymore because at some point, Brittany decided to shift her weight and lay her head on your shoulder. When it happened, you had to focus all of your energy to resist turning towards her. You don't know what you would've done if you were to look into those eyes while being that close. Well actually, you do know but you tell yourself it would've been done purely out of instinct of course, not because of other reasons.
"This is my favorite part." Brittany mumbles and you can't help but smile, knowing what song is about to play. You watch as the animals on the screen take the form of Aurora's 'Dream Prince' and when the familiar song starts, you sing along softly. Unfortunately, this causes Brittany to shift so you stop singing immediately.
"No, keep going," she whispers, dropping her hand between the two of you, linking her pinky with yours and giving it a soft squeeze. "I love hearing you sing."
Silently, you wonder if Brittany can hear your heartbeat from where her head is placed. You wonder if she heard it skip when her pinky linked with yours. When you don't continue to sing along she squeezes again and it doesn't take much more than that to get you to start signing again. You're momentary lapse in brain activity is the only thing to blame for your hesitation because really, you'd sing at her request any day.
Brittany doesn't let go of your pinky for the rest of the movie and you even manage find the strength to lean a little against her, too. You're not going to lie, it feels nice to be with her like this. Even though deep down, you know it shouldn't. You know this is platonic. You're just being selfish.
Once the credits start rolling, Brittany doesn't make any effort to move. You think she might've fallen asleep because the grip on your pinky has loosened in the past ten minutes, but she shifts slightly, letting you know she's still awake.
"Have you ever been in love?" Her voice is soft as she grabs hold of your pinky tightly again. Although the movie is what most likely prompted her question, your heart jumps at the thought of Brittany asking about your love life.
"Once. A long time ago." You tell her honestly. "But it didn't last." You think back to all those years ago and picture your high school sweetheart. When love was simple. Before everything got all screwed up.
"What was he like?" she asks and for the second time today you feel the goosebumps rise on your skin. This time due to her line of questioning. Maybe this is your chance to finally say something. It's wide open, all you have to do is tell her. All it would take is a simple correction of pronoun and then she'll know. She deserves to know.
You chicken out. "Everything I thought I needed at the time. But we were young, too young to know for sure what either of us wanted."
"Was he your Prince Phillip?"
"Definitely not." You turn your head slightly to look at her. Her head is still down, blonde hair falling past your own shoulders. You resist the urge to reach up and move some stray strands that have fallen across her face. Glancing down at your hands, her pinky still linked with yours, you whisper, "I guess I'm still waiting for mine to notice me."
You turn away quickly, feeling like you went too far again. You can't just start confessing your feelings like this. You know better than to let thoughts like that slip.
You try not to feel hurt at the thought that Brittany only sees you as her best friend because obviously that's what you two are. But you've known for a while now that you want more. That if there was even the slightest chance to be with her, you would do it, no matter how hurt this would surely leave you in the end. You'd do it in a heartbeat.
And if you're being honest, you've probably known that from the first moment you met her. You were a confirmed goner as soon you received that first note. There was no hope in getting out alive. You can try your best to push these feelings down, but ultimately you know how you feel about her.
You hate yourself for falling for this again. You hate that this will most likely lead to you getting your heart broken, again.
"I don't have a Prince Phillip, either." Brittany sits up, removing her head from your shoulder and you miss the contact immediately. She turns her body to face you, crossing her legs on top of the couch as her eyes dance across your face, as if she's reading you. Finally, after you shift under her stare, she smiles softly. "I'm glad you're not an old lady."
You laugh at her random confession, grateful for the ease in tension. "I am also very glad I'm not an old lady."
"The last music teacher was a mean old lady." She explains, giggling. "She never let me in her classroom, and she definitely wouldn't have come over for a movie night."
"She sounds like a horrible human. Thank god, I'm nothing like her."
A certain twinkle appears in Brittany's eyes and it makes you wonder what she's up to. "Come to think of it..." she leans forward, smirking, "I don't think she was ticklish, either. So that must mean-"
Your eyes widen in realization and you're fast to hold your hands up, "Britt, no." You look at her pointedly but her smile only grows. "I mean it! I can be very violent!" You yell just as she lunges forward and attacks your sides.
Brittany's laugh echoes throughout her entire living room and your screams, you're sure, could be heard at least a block away. "You are ticklish!" She bellows, and you do your best to wiggle out from under her without causing her any harm.
By the time you're finally free, you find yourself standing at the other end of the living room, keeping as far away distance from Brittany as possible, trying to catch your breath. Brittany on the other hand, is practically rolling on the floor with laughter.
When your breathing calms, you grin down at her, "Oh, Britt, I wonder..." singing her name as you step closer to her.
"Wait, San-," She tries to talk through her laughter, but she can't catch her breath. You take another step closer again and she's quick to sit up as she shakes her head, holding her hands up to keep you away, "I'm sorry," she laughs, "I promise, I won't do it again."
"Okay, fine." You raise your hands in surrender. Your actions of course allows you the opening you need to get close enough to tackle her back down in a fit of laughter. Your hands quickly move to her sides and this time the roles are reversed.
"San!" Brittany manages to yell through her laughter, and you slow your movements. When your hands completely stop, Brittany has a chance to finally catch her breath. You realize that your straddling her, but she doesn't seem to mind.
"Truce?" You hold out your hand, and she cautiously eyes it from beneath you.
"You tricked me before," her eyes narrow at you and you hold back your giggle, "How do I know you're not tricking me now?
"Because I'm the one on top of you. If I really wanted to, I could have my way." You smirk down at her and a smile sneaks its way onto her features.
"Is that a promise?"
Her words shoot down your spine and your body shivers at the realization of how much of your skin is actually in contact with hers. Awkwardly, you laugh and stumble to one side, allowing Brittany to wiggle out from beneath you.
"You're too easy, Santana." She giggles, nudging your shoulder and you respond with another awkward laugh. "Come on, let's get you home before you die of embarrassment."
She walks you to her front door and wraps her arms around you in embrace. You've come to really love Brittany's hugs. They feel honest and wholesome. Like your whole world is better because of just this hug. You feel like an addict, addicted to all things Brittany and you can't seem to get enough even when you know it's bad for you.
It isn't until you get home that you realize you're still wearing her pajamas so you send her a quick text apologizing for stealing her clothes. When you finally fall onto your mattress after you've finish getting ready for bed, you see Brittany's response.
Britt: You look good in my clothes. Keep it.