Chapter 10: Countdown

When Santana rings the doorbell of your childhood home you rush to the front door before one of your parents even attempt to move from their spot.

Letting her in, you take in her outfit as she shrugs off her coat. She's in a cozy sweater and ripped jeans. The entire picture of her, complete with a slightly red nose from outside cold, is cute in a very wintery vibe kind of way and you like it. You wonder if she really did buy a new outfit or if this was already in her closet. You glance down and notice in her hand a bottle of wine. When you look pointedly at her she smiles bashfully. She's too much.

"If they dont drink wine, I can put it back in my car." She offers, shrugging like it's no big deal.

"Oh, we drink wine!" Your father yells from the kitchen, making the both of you laugh.

"I'd like to take this time to apologize beforehand. I'm not sure yet what they have instore for you."

"Just glad to be here, Britt." She smiles back with dimples that make you blush. You turn away quickly, leading her through the living room and towards the kitchen.

Both of your parents are already standing next to each other in front of the kitchen island waiting for the both of you to walk up.

You watch as Santana smiles politely but when she fully sees them, she subtly glances to you with an arched eyebrow. You knew it was coming but everytime someone new notices it, you can't help but feel a little out of place. You'll have to explain it to her later.

"You must be Santana, the music teacher that teaches piano at the school." You mother's eyes flicker to yours playfully and you cringe at her words. Santana stretches out her hand to greet her but your mother only chuckles, opening her arms before pulling Santana in for a hug. "We hug in this family, hun."

You watch with adoration when your father teases Santana for still bringing wine, causing her to blush deeply.

"Brittany doesn't usually invite people to these things. It's usually just our friends." Your mother tells her and Santana's eyes find yours.

"I hope I'm not intruding."

"Oh, no. Not at all." Your father shakes his head. "Britt's usually bored most of the time anyways. I'm glad you'll be keeping her company."

Conversation takes over easily from there. You help your mother instruct Santana on how to roll out pie crusts and as soon as she gets the hang of it, your parents hit her with a barrage of questions. You almost step in to stop them but Santana handles them like a pro.

Although secretly, you kind of love it because even though she's your best friend, you've never actually talked about a lot of these things. And as irritatingly nosey as your parents are, you're a little grateful that you can learn more about Santana through them.

When your father asks where she's from all she says is Ohio. She's not short about it, but she never gives more than the very basics. She tells them that she found her love for music through her high school's music club and that's what lead her to move to New York when she graduated.

Santana talks about her time in New York City like it was the best time of her life. She talks excitedly about the shows she's seen, the food she's eaten, and the people she's met. It makes you smile as you picture her there, happy and proud. It must've taken a lot for her to move from there.

When they ask about her love life, she's careful. She's always so careful. She tells them that she's not looking for anything right now and expertly guides the conversation to other things like her interests in books and music.

The topic of church or faith doesn't come up like you expected it to. Probably because your parents know that Santana works at the school with you so they most likely already assume her beliefs.

Either way though, you'd venture that Santana would be able to hold her own if it were to come up. Since you've known her, all she's said about it was that she grew up in a religious household, but something tells you that it must've been more than that. She must've had an actual connection to her faith.

Because as many times as you've seen her try to avoid the subject, you can tell that she was -at least for a good part of her life- quite religious. You don't know how to explain it since it's not obvious, and very well hidden, but after few little things here and there, you just know.

You used to secretly wonder why she was so guarded about it but now that you know what really happened to her, it's heartbreaking.

"So Santana, how'd you land in Indy?" Your mother suddenly asks her, bringing you back from your thoughts.

"Well, someone told me once that Indianapolis was a big city with a small town vibe." Santana answers with a shrug, "New York was fun and all, but after a while I kind of needed to slow down."

"Your parent's must miss you. You didn't want to move back home?" Your father asks innocently and you watch carefully as Santana continues on with her rolling. At Santana's silence, your mother stops what she's doing to look at her curiously, waiting for her answer.

You almost step in but Santana sees you flinch and her eyes find yours, telling you silently through a soft smile that she's okay. She takes a steadying breath before smiling politely and just shakes her head as an answer.

Thankfully, your father takes the hint. He may be a little clueless sometimes, but at least he can recognize it when he's reached a touchy subject. "How'd you end up at GCA? If you didn't move for a job then you must've had some sort of a plan."

You watch as Santana pauses again and you think this might be another thing you've yet to learn. For someone who went through everything she did, you had never thought about why she would apply for a job at a school like yours.

But Santana shrugs easily, "I had this whole idea of opening up a teaching studio here. Then I came across the school's job posting online and I don't know… I thought maybe if I could help another kid find their passion in music too, I'd have done my part in this world."

Even though you know there's more to it than that, her answer makes your heart soar. For the first few months of teaching, she had put on this big front about how much she's 'not a kid person', but you know better by now. She absolutely loves kids. She may act like she's always annoyed around them - though many times she actually is - but really, she has big soft spot when it comes to children. Like a marshmallow.

"That's really admirable, Santana." You father smiles at her. "And I know they're very happy to have you. Sue raves to me all the time about how much of a godsend you are and trust me, she's a hard one to impress."

Both you and Santana laugh at that because you know it's true and you're glad that your father has lightened the mood.

Your mother is still watching Santana curiously and you think it's because she's a new friend. A friend that's not from the church. One that you failed to mention you've become close with and she's worried. She knows all too well why you hardly have any friends to begin with. Not everyone understands you the way your parent's do.

"Okay, now this is the most important question." Your father voice turns stern as he turns his attention fully to Santana.

"Oh no." You mutter under your breath and Santana stops what she's doing to look at you. You smile at her encouragingly because you know your father too well. You were wondering how long it was going to take for him to ask. Santana looks at him nervously and you stifle a laugh.

"Indiana or Purdue?" He narrows his eyes at her and she shifts under his stare.

She looks between the three of you and you all stare at her expectantly. You want to help her, and you probably should have prepared her for this, but you know she's on her own now. You just hope she says the right answer.

"Umm," Santana laughs nervously, "I-I don't really watch football…"

You can't help the huge smile that grows on your face and you choke out a small laugh. Santana looks at you with such an innocent and terrified expression that it makes you laugh again, this time harder. Your dad laughs with you and Santana joins in awkwardly.

"I like her." He tells you, "She's funny."

You smile proudly at him and he goes back to his cooking. Leaning over the counter, your mother whispers to Santana.

"Basketball, hun. He was asking about basketball." She tells her and you notice the faint blush creep its way onto Santana's cheeks.

At one point, after finishing the fifth pie, Santana asks how many pies your family plans on making.

"Are you guys feeding the entire State of Indiana with these?" Santana asks with wide eyes when she opens the large refrigerator revealing, surprise, more pies.

"We give them out to the guests to take home to their families. It's kind of our New Year's tradition." You explain with a laugh as you watch her inspect the truly unreasonable amount of pies that have taken over the refrigerator shelves.

"So baking runs in the family, I see." Santana says, finally closing the door and turning to you with a smile.

It makes you blush and when you turn back to your mother she's already looking questioningly at you.

"I made her muffins a few times." You shrug, not offering her any more of an explanation in hopes of changing the subject but you already know what she's thinking. She knows you don't bake for just anyone. Honestly, the only time you find yourself baking is when you're with your mother because that way you're supervised.

You wouldn't call yourself incompetent. It's just that you don't like following instructions and you tend to get distracted easily. That's why you can't cook alone with any music playing. Your house would literally burn down. Also baking requires exact measurements and as amazing as you are at math and calculations, you can never seem to get your numbers right when it comes to baking.

But for Santana, you somehow managed to make an entirely new recipe for blueberry muffins. Just for her. A recipe that you would even say rivals your mother's recipe for banana-nut muffins.

Once the pies are done, your father asks for Santana's opinion on the living room set up and you scold him, reminding him that he promised no manual labor.

Your mother, thankfully, has loosened up to Santana, too. All it took was a very heated conversation about the Indy 500 and how much they both hate auto racing. You make a mental note to not tell her about your brief stint in the motocross scene.

Once people start arriving you take on the role of host, greeting your parents' friends and making sure they're situated. Occasionally, you'll glance at Santana and watch as she makes easy conversation with everyone that approaches her. She's a natural. The only time you can sense her being even a little uncomfortable was during prayer.

The night rolls on until your parents and the last of their friends are playing card games in the living room. You've never joined in on these games because you're terrible at lying but Santana, of course, was roped in by your father for a game of poker. After a few hands, you smile knowingly because from where you're standing you can see her cards. You know she's letting them win.

"Pierce, you're taking all her money. Let the poor girl go." Your mother yells from the couch when he excitedly collects the pot in the middle.

You laugh and move forward, placing your hands on Santana's shoulders from behind. "I'm going to steal my friend now." You tell the group and your father grumbles the loudest.

"To be continued." Santana laughs, "Next time I'll be back with a vengeance."

You roll your eyes at them and pull her away and upstairs into your old room. She smiles wryly when you turn the light on and her eyes take in the sight of a room decorated by your high school self. It looks absolutely ridiculous and you already know she's thinking it.

"Whatever you're gonna say, don't." You tell her pointedly as you close the door behind her. She turns and looks at you with a smirk and you shove her shoulder lightly. "I'm not above fighting you, Santana."

"Wow, so feisty tonight." She giggles, holding her hands up in defense. "All I was going to say was nice posters."

"Don't start with me." You warn her again and she sucks in her lips, trying not to laugh.

"Who would have thought Brittany S. Pierce was actually secretly a Britney fan all along?"

You groan and she lets out her laugh. She's teasing you but in all honesty, you're glad she's comfortable enough to be playful with you right now. Probably because you're alone and she doesn't have to worry about being too careful anymore.

Or maybe the two glasses of wine has something to do with it.

"I missed this." You're eyes widen at your confession because you hadn't meant to say it out loud but you did. You're not sure if Santana had caught your slip because she doesn't respond. Then you notice her shift. It's slight, but she stiffens.

In an attempt to calm her nerves, you offer her your bed to sit on. She doesn't move and instead just watches as you sit on the edge of it, tapping the area beside you. Still, she doesn't take a step so you tap it again.

"Britt…" She shifts nervously in place again.

"No funny business." You try to joke and she blushes. She hesitates but ultimately, she decides to sit next to you. She's stiff again, like the time you watched Sleeping Beauty on your couch at home. You lean to the side and bump shoulders with her.

She laughs nervously, "Sorry. I'm just trying to give you the space you asked for."

You think about her words. She's letting you call the shots.

"What if..." You draw out, "What if I said I don't need space anymore?" Your eyes skate over her features and she turns to look at you. She knows what you're implying and there's a glint in her eyes as they roam your face slowly. Carefully. Always carefully.

"Then, I need you to be sure, Britt." She pauses for what feels like forever. "Because if you tell me you're sure, I don't think I'd be able to hold back."

You're instantly lightheaded. You weren't expecting that bold of a confession from her. Is she saying what you think she's saying? Is she finally acknowledging that she has feelings for you, too? But she wants you to be sure and you don't know what that means. Is she scared? Of you?

"Santana, I'm not going to hurt you." You tell her with as much honesty as you can muster. Her eyes search yours for a minute before she smiles softly. It doesn't quite reach her eyes.

"Your parents seem nice." She finally says, looking away. She's changing the subject because she uncomfortable. Because she doesn't exactly believe you yet. You don't want to let her retreat like this but you don't want to upset her either so you ease up.

"They really like you." You look away too. "I saw you letting my dad win. You didn't have to do that, you know. He's already got a big a head."

She chuckles, "It's only five bucks. It's worth it if it means they don't hate me."

"They could never hate you." You frown and she turns to look at you. For only a second her eyes fall to your lips.

"I could think of a few reasons why they should."

There it is again. So out of character for her but she lets it slip past her walls.

"San…"

Knock knock

The door swings open and your mother steps in, looking tired.

"Only about an hour until midnight but I'm heading to bed now. Will you both be staying up?" She looks between the two of you and you feel Santana shift away from you slightly.

"I always do." You smile and your mother turns her attention to Santana.

"It was nice to finally meet you, Santana. Make sure you take home a pie, okay?"

"Will do." Santana straightens, "Thank you for having me, Mrs. Pierce. Happy New Year."

Your mother smiles, hesitating near the doorway slightly but eventually decides to walk further into your room and hugs the both of you good night. Once she leaves and closes your door again, you turn back to Santana. She's fidgeting with her hands on her lap.

"Should we watch tv?" You offer, nodding toward the tv on your dresser. She doesn't say anything, and just sighs softly. You need to be careful around her. Just as careful as she is around you. When she looks at you, you can see the conflict in her eyes.

You decide to take the lead and move to the back of your bed, leaning against the headboard and reaching for the remote, bringing the tv to life. Eventually, she follows suit, sitting beside you. You flip through the channels and land on the Rockin' Eve special.

You keep the volume low as you both sit there, watching in silence as more than a million freezing people stand there waiting for the new year to begin.

After a few minutes you boldly decide to take a chance and you shift, placing your head on Santana's shoulder. And just as you expected, she stiffens.

"I'm cold," you lie, "Is this okay?"

You wait as she thinks it over. It's obvious what you're doing. She knows that if you were really cold, you would've just grabbed one of the many blankets on the bed that you both just happen to be sitting on.

When she doesn't say anything or relax her stiff shoulders, you sigh and begin to move off of her, but her voice stops you.

"N-no. It's okay." She stutters out. Your eyes watch as one of her hands grasp to the bottom of her sweater desperately. Carefully, you place your head back down. She stiffens again, but this time she eventually softens, allowing you to snuggle closer.

For a long while, you sit like that beside her and listen to her steady breathing. You strain your ears in hopes of catching the faint sounds of her heartbeat. You want to know what she sounds like. You want to know if it echoes yours.

"Don't ever go to this." Santana suddenly says, softly, "I went once and only once. I'm not even exaggerating a little bit when I say it was truly the worst experience of my life."

You chuckle at that and imagine a very cold and very grumpy Santana surrounded by a million drunkards in Times Square.

"My roommate at the time actually suggested I go out and get my midnight kiss from a complete stranger." She laughs, "Horrible idea. I should of known not to listen to her. She always gives the worst advice."

You smile but stay quiet. She's telling you more about her life. She's opening up and it makes the hairs on your skin stand still. The last thing you want is to scare her back into her shell again.

So you stay quiet, waiting for her to divulge more as you continue to watch the screen in front. When the last performer of the night steps on stage, she chokes out a laugh. "Speak of the devil."

It takes you a minute but your eyes widen once you make the connection, moving your head slightly off her shoulder to look at her.

"Berry?" You ask, your mouth wide open as a smirk forms on her lips. "You mean to tell me your roommate was Rachel Berry?"

"Trust me, her voice is just as irritating in person as it is through the radio." She laughs, keeping her eyes on the tv to watch her friend perform. Throughout the whole performance, you silently take in her side profile, even catching the small twitch of pride at the corner of her lips when Rachel sings the high note perfectly at the end.

There's still so much you have to learn about her.

"So, did you get it?" You ask softly once Rachel leaves the stage. She turns to look at you and when she realizes how close you are, her eyes fall to your lips.

"G-get what?"

You smirk, "Your midnight kiss with a stranger."

Her eyes don't leave your lips and you watch as her cheeks flush slightly. She doesn't answer your question. Instead, you both sit there, inches apart, as the 60 second countdown begins.

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

She draws a small breath and you feel the exhale on your lips. It charges you and gives you life, confirming what you had already known. You don't even have to second guess your feelings anymore. Especially after watching her interact throughout the night and seeing how easily she fits into your life. You want this.

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

Her eyes finally find yours again and you lean in slowly but she shakes her head and leans away. Out of the corner of your eye, you see that her hand has abandoned her sweatshirt and is now gripping tightly at the edge of your bed. The sounds on your screen get louder and the ten second countdown begins.

Ten. Nine. Eight.

"I wish you weren't so careful, Santana." You whisper, your breath hits her lips and you can see the effect it has on her, eyes turning dark.

Five. Four. Three.

"Careful what you wish for."

One.

It surprises you that Santana is the one to close the distance. It's almost forceful and you gasp onto her lips when she pulls back for only a second before she brings her hand up to thread through your hair, pulling you in again. It completely overwhelms you, this electricity that's radiating between the two of you.

You weren't expecting for her to kiss you like this but you're also not complaining. She's not holding back and you're suddenly dizzy the moment her tongue swipes your bottom lip softly, making you melt further into her touch. Returning the favor, you press harder into her, smiling when she hums her approval.

It's a completely different kiss than your first. It's more like an explosion of pent up energy and it sets your body on fire.

You feel every muscle of yours tighten when her hand finds your shoulder, gently pushing you back against the headboard. At first you think she might mount you and you almost die at the thought but then she pulls away. Her lips are full and her eyes dark, and behind all of that you can still register the faintest expression of fear.

"Shit, I'm so sorry." Her voice is raspy and she clears her throat, shaking her head, "I don't know where that-"

"I'm sure," you quickly tell her, leaning forward. Pressing a soft kiss to her lips, you do your very best to reassure her. "I'm so sure, Santana."