A/N: HI!
Sorry for the long delay in this story; I didn't expect Quell to last as long as it did (story of my life, tbh) and then I took a short break from writing, but here I am with the next chapter, and it's hopefully long enough to make up for me being gone so long? No? :D?
Updates will, unfortunately, probably be a lot slower than the normal pace of my stories, because I have a lot going on in my personal life, and I'll be off the radar for about 2 months starting at the end of August, but I promise I won't abandon this story. :)
Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, and sent encouraging messages my way. You all are the best!
I'd also like to thank Tiger (get-higher) and Cereal (killer cereal) for bugging me to update this story. You guys can all thank them for making me finish it, haha. Lighthouse (NegativeSpaces) also deserves thanks for listening to me whine about writing (psst, read FMAL.)
Okay, well, on to the story~
"So ther' I was, preparin' t' mount a mut'ny on 'im after twen'y-sev'n months 't sea," the Captain boasts, swaying on his feet, and Brittany clutches her mug of spirits closer, listening intently from her spot sandwiched between Jake and Mike.
"This is the bes' part," Jake whispers reverently, and Brittany nods, riveted, keeping her eyes focused on the Captain- whose actual name, she has very recently learned, is Puck- as he hunches low, spreading his arms, building the suspense of his story. Sprawled on scattered piles of rope and crates and barrels around him, in varying stages of drunkenness, is the majority of the ship's crew. Behind him, Santana leans casually against the main mast, arms crossed, a large mug in her left hand that she drinks heavily from in between shaking her head and rolling her eyes. It makes Brittany smile behind the rim of her own mug, and Puck mistakes it for enthusiasm as he directs the story her way- though Brittany can't deny her interest in the tale.
"I'd jus' gather'd th' boys-"
"Y'mean Santana!" a pirate in the front corrects teasingly.
"Shhh!" Puck drunkenly waves the man's words away, and Santana nods her head in approval at the outburst. "I'd jus' gather'd the crew- ya happy now?- an' we were makin' our way to 'is quarters, when WHOOSH!" Brittany's startled by the sudden exclamation as Puck throws his hands up in the air dramatically. "There it was- bigges' I'd ev'r seen, right before our v'ry eyes-"
"What?" Brittany finds herself wondering out loud, and Puck smirks. When he speaks, Santana mimics him, her full lips forming the words silently behind him, as if she's heard the story a thousand times, and it makes Brittany smile.
"A giant whale."
Santana smiles back at her from her spot across deck, shaking her head slightly in amusement, and Brittany's heart skips a beat, because it's the first time Santana's smiled for her. Maybe she's right to hope for a friendship in the future- she seems to be making progress, right?
A large laugh rises up from the gathered pirates, and Brittany finds her thoughts returning to the tall sea tale as Jake leans in to whisper, "Tol' you!"
"Is any of it true?" Sugar asks skeptically from Jake's other side, keeping her voice low so as not to offend Puck.
"Ev'ry word," Mike says with a serious face, and Brittany grins at his obvious joke, reaching to pull Sugar closer and into a hug. She feels warm and unrestrictedly happy, and she can't stop smiling as Puck continues his story after chugging another mug of spirits. It's been a little over two hours since The Tide Ripper overtook The Orchid Heart with alarming speed and skill- two hours of celebrating and heavy drinking once they'd made it a safe distance away, because with their main masts destroyed from expert cannon fire, there was no way The Orchid Heart was going to pursue them.
As they'd sailed away into the dark horizon, Brittany had looked around, noticing that Santana hadn't even bothered to take up a post on deck. Instead, she'd reclined against a crate with her feet propped up. It took Brittany several moments to notice that she was casually eating an apple. Even the Captain had looked bored, twirling his spyglass in his hand while they made their swift escape.
Once Brett announced they were out of range, leaving The Orchid Heart to sink, the celebrating started. It baffled Brittany, as she watched several of the pirates pass mugs around and pop open a barrel of rum, how nonchalant most of the crew were about a fight that, in her mind, seemed like it could have taken a turn for the worst in the blink of an eye. She couldn't believe how easy they were about killing innocent sailors, but honestly, she couldn't find it in herself to care much about the stranded crew of The Orchid Heart. She still doesn't. It worries her slightly, and she wonders if she is becoming as ruthless as her companions- that their nonchalance is rubbing off on her- but she doesn't have time to dwell on it as Mike snatches the mug she's currently holding and refills it with rum before thrusting it back into her hands.
"Catch up," he says with a grin, and Brittany obediently takes a huge gulp of the burning liquid.
Puck's still telling his story- though he's moved on to detailing how he was swallowed by the great whale- and Brittany thinks she might have heard this same story as a child; she wonders if the two stories are connected, somehow, as she stifles a yawn into her shoulder, not wanting to offend her companions. It's late; so late that it's probably early, though she has no way to know for certain. Brittany's exhausted from a long day of work on the ship, but she knows she won't be getting any sleep anytime soon; her adrenaline and curiosity have her mind wide awake, though her body is protesting.
She's been to celebrations, but compared to the one currently happening on deck, she hardly thinks the boring social visits of her father's elite, pompous friends classifies as one. She's awed by the spectacle happening before her; she's seen the pirate crew fight, steal, and now she's witnessing them partying for the first time. At the insistence of Mike and Jake, she's downed an entire mug of rum- though she hacked through most of it- and is working on her second. Or is it her third? She feels light-headed, a little sluggish, and all her limbs feel like they are weightless, like she might float away into the sky at any second. A warm breeze floats over her, and she smiles dopily, gazing up at the sails flapping far above her head. She kind of feels like a sail, herself...
"Yer gonna hafta learn t' drink if yer gonna hang with us," Mike slurs, and Brittany feels her cheeks heating as Jake slaps her on the back encouragingly; she takes another long sip of her rum. It's really not appetizing, but Brittany desperately wants to fit in, so she chokes the bitter liquid down with a smile. For the first time, she feels as if she's part of the crew- accepted among them instead of just meant to serve them.
She can learn to like alcohol, she supposes.
Halfway through her second- third? She really should keep better count- glass, Puck's story has ended and the world around her is starting to go fuzzy around the edges. Loud, cheerful music begins to play, and most of the pirates clap along and chime in with sea songs. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine that any of them could play instruments, but Arty, Matt, and even the Captain had pulled out banjos, a harmonica, and even a squeezebox, surprising Brittany with skilled playing and singing. The music is catchy and not at all displeasing as Brittany finds herself smiling and humming along to the unfamiliar songs, swaying next to her companions to the stomping beat and the rustic tones.
Around her, several of the pirates rise to dance drunkenly, still clapping their hands and shouting lyrics along to the music, but with far less finesse than they probably might have liked, Brittany's fairly certain. She absently scans the group and finds Kurt bathed in darkness, tucked away in a far corner of the deck with Scrap, and her thoughts tangle; she's so confused. She didn't even realize that Kurt and Scrap were friends, but-
Another hard slap to her back makes her look to her right to find Matt standing with a huge smile.
"Ya done real good, Lady," he says, sounding mostly sober. Brittany wonders if Matt ever loses his cool composure.
"That's right," Mike nods. "I can't be sure, but with that plat'num you found, we shoul' have enough to retire! We might not ev'n need 'nother score."
"You speak as though our Captain would abandon his mission," Matt chuckles. "It's about more than the payoff- you know that."
"Yeah, yeah."
"What platinum?" Sugar wonders, and Brittany feels suddenly silly for not telling her about what happened. She's curious about the score Mike just mentioned, but she owes it to Sugar to explain. Before she can open her mouth, however, Jake cuts in for her.
"We woulda never found that plat'num if it weren't for her," he says. "Brittany seened it hidden in those crates." He nods, the gesture exaggerated because of his drunken state, and Sugar stares at her, impressed, making heat rise to her cheeks.
"Wow, Britt," she says reverently, and Brittany's face burns hotter. "That's amazing!"
"Sure is!"
"You'll be one of us in no time," Matt grins, and Brittany's heart pounds with hope and pride at his words.
One of us- a pirate! Brittany could be an honorary member of the crew- she'd get a weapon, and a ship station, and maybe even an eyepatch-
A new song starts, breaking Brittany out of her premature self-congratulatory thoughts; Puck strums his banjo, keeping a steady rhythm, and soon the rest of the pirates join in, clapping in time. Brittany watches, amused, as the whole crew sways along to the beat, and then Mike sets his mug down, grabbing Brittany's hand. "Come on, green bean."
Brittany's not had many opportunities to dance over the course of her life, unless it was stiff-formed and in a stuffy dress at an elite social ball. Again, Brittany can't help but compare how drastically different her casual new life with pirates is to her old life in Lycas as Mike tugs her into a spin, making her laugh uncontrollably. The alcohol makes her dizzy in a good way, and she can't stop smiling. Why shouldn't she dance, after all? This whole celebration is because of her actions. She's finally contributed something worthwhile, and she's never been more proud of herself.
Brittany's absolutely certain that she's going to succeed on her own. She's entirely convinced that her father was wrong. She's more than capable of taking care of herself.
She lets Mike twirl her around, laughing, and beside her, Sugar takes up a dance with Jake a moment later. The music goes on, they continue to dance, and when Arty abruptly begins to sing, his voice is so smooth it takes Brittany by surprise.
When I was a lad in a fishin' town
My old man said to me:
"You can spend your life, your jolly life
Sailin' on the sea.
Mike notices her awed expression and his grin widens as he guides her around the deck, light-footed. Brittany struggles to keep up with his pace, but finds that she's enjoying his lead as she absorbs the steady thrum of the music, letting it help guide her.
"Yer doin' well, green bean," Mike tells her with a laugh, and Brittany wonders where in Hades he came up with such a sudden, odd nickname for her, but her thoughts go blank as another smooth voice joins Arty's, harmonizing perfectly. She nearly trips as Santana chimes in with the chorus of the song.
'Cause her hair was green as seaweed
Her skin was blue and pale
Her face it was a work of art
Brittany closes her eyes briefly and lets Santana's words create an image, paint a picture in her head, as Mike takes her into another twirl. Santana's voice rolls over her like waves, making her shiver at the tone, and how they flow and complement, teasing and harmonizing. Santana's voice sounds like it's caressing Arty's with the way that she drags out her vowels and nearly purrs her syllables. Brittany doesn't even realize when Mike slows them into a stop; she's mesmerized with watching Santana's lips and the way they form the lyrics of the song.
Santana doesn't seem to notice her staring, however. She and Arty are too caught up in each other, almost as if they are competing. They both smile, and Brittany is awed at the way Santana's eyes sparkle playfully in the lamplight. She feels breathless, and her chest feels warm and tight, though she has no idea why. It must be because she's never seen this side of Santana before- that and the alcohol. That's probably why she feels so overheated.
"You might wanna pick yer jaw up off the deck," Mike teases in a low voice once the song ends, and Brittany's suddenly aware that her mouth is hanging open. She shuts it quickly, her impaired mind racing to come up with a response, her mouth fumbling for words of protest. She flusters, her face heating up, but Mike only laughs, and Brittany feels her ears burning with embarrassment.
A new song starts, and Mike leaves her to refill his mug yet again, making her head spin. She'll never catch up now-
Out of the corner of her eye, she spots Santana moving to refill her own mug, and wonders how many the lady pirate's had. She's still secretly wearing Santana's red bandana around her arm, and it makes her feel like she's invincible. It definitely brought her exactly what she'd been hoping for- luck, strength, courage. She'd managed to have all those things, like Santana. And if Santana's still drinking, why shouldn't she? She looks for her mug and finds it sitting next to Sugar on a crate. When she peeks into it, she discovers it's still a third of the way full, so she downs it quickly, pleased that she can't really feel the sting of the alcohol anymore, and makes her way, rather shakily, over to the barrel tap for a refill.
"You sure that's a good idea?" Kurt asks softly, and Brittany turns to look at him, smiling happily at his presence beside her. Her smile drops into a frown, however, when she notices a large, dark bruise on his neck.
"Did you get choked?" Brittany wonders candidly, touching her fingers to the bruise, and Kurt's face turns a dark shade of pink as he hastily lifts his collar to cover the mark.
"No," he squeaks, then clears his throat. He eyes her mug. "I think you should slow down- or you're going to regret it in the morning."
Brittany giggles. "Isn't it morning already?"
Kurt shakes his head with amusement, sighing. "It's probably best if you sober up. We'll be cleaning up shortly." He nods towards Puck and the other pirates, who are having what looks like a chugging competition to the tune of a fiddle playing. "At the pace they're going, I have a feeling they probably won't be standing for much longer." He reaches for Brittany's mug, and she obediently hands it over, flashing him a large, catlike grin.
"Thanks for letting me celebrate, too," she tells him, suddenly shy, and Kurt smiles gently.
"You worked hard, Britt; you earned it." He pauses to take one last look around the ship, frowning at the sight of several pirates passed out on the deck and Puck still cradling his banjo in one hand and his mug in the other. "Wait for me by the ladder while I fetch cleaning supplies from the galley."
Brittany nods, the movement making her feel a little off-balance because of how drunk she is, and obediently follows his orders, stumbling her way over to where he'd pointed- to the stairs that lead up to the halfdeck. She moves to lean against the outside of them, standing in their shadow in the corner they make with the wall of the higher deck, and quietly observes the people around her. The celebration has mostly died down, with just Puck plucking at his banjo and crooning drunkenly to himself. Some of the pirates laugh at his ravings, and some, like Matt, copy Brittany in that they stand back and quietly observe from the shadows.
Brittany smiles, waiting patiently for Kurt to come and collect her, when a strange feeling passes through her. She feels as if someone's eyes are on her, and she swallows nervously, certain she knows whose eyes they might be.
When she turns, her suspicions are confirmed as she finds Santana watching her intently from the shadows, her expression cool and neutral, and Brittany is suddenly reminded of the way Santana smiled at her earlier during Puck's story; her heart gives an involuntary leap. Gathering her courage, and with the alcohol pumping through her blood, she feels fireproof as she decides to approach the lady pirate.
She takes three confident steps, the quiet tap of her boots on the deck sounding like cannonfire to her ears as she reaches Santana's side. When the woman doesn't comment on her presence, she turns to her and blurts, "I liked your song," and then she mentally smacks herself for her bluntness.
"'Course you did," Santana says smoothly, and Brittany's surprised at how- discomposed- she sounds. It's quiet for a moment before Santana admits, "I liked your dancing."
"You did?" Brittany blushes, feeling completely mortified that Santana was watching her and saw her dancing at all. "I've never danced like that before."
"You're a natural, then."
Santana's light, playful tone puts Brittany at ease, and her tension melts away. Her smile widens and she finds Santana's eyes, feeling that warmth in her chest again. "I'm glad you didn't toss me overboard."
Santana laughs, and Brittany's heart thumps, hopeful, at the sound. "Me, too." Brittany likes this side of her; she's soft around the edges, like she was that morning with Lord Tubbington, and it encourages Brittany, reassures her that pursuing friendship with her is worth the effort.
When Santana moves closer, Brittany's breath catches at the predatory shift in her demeanor. She's completely unprepared for the way dark brown eyes regard her, lingering over her body. She's not ready for the sudden assault of Santana's scent, overwhelming her with its spicy-smoky fragrance. She's certainly caught off-guard by the change in Santana's tone when she purrs, "You've earn'd your keep, I must admit- you were good out there, Songbird."
Her gaze drops to Brittany's mouth, lingering, and Brittany feels her pulse pounding everywhere as Santana licks her lips slowly, her eyes seeming to darken even further. She doesn't tear her gaze away from Brittany's lips as she says throatily, "so good."
Brittany swallows, her mouth feeling unusually dry, and takes a slight step back, dizzy. She's not used to having Santana- or anyone but Sugar, really- so close, but that means she's making progress, right? Santana just wants to be her friend, finally. She's being awful nice, and saying such encouraging things; her proximity must mean that Brittany's won her over. She smiles, the fireproof feeling caused by the alcohol she'd consumed making her confident. "Maybe- someday, I can become a-" she stifles a gasp as Santana leans even closer, so close she can feel her body heat, "pirate."
"Yeah," Santana agrees, practically moaning the word. Brittany freezes as Santana turns her head and slowly, deliberately skims her nose along Brittany's jaw. Brittany slams her eyes shut as she feels Santana's warm, steady breaths send shivers down her neck that ripple through her chest and limbs, spreading throughout her entire body, making her knees buckle. "I definitely think you'll be coming," Santana continues in a whisper, sending more tingles across Brittany's face from the feel of her lips just barely brushing Brittany's jaw.
Brittany furrows her brow, confused at the words, unsure what Santana means as her mind whirs and rushes to catch up. Maybe Santana spoke wrong? That happens to Brittany sometimes, and-
Her entire body goes rigid, tensing when Santana's nose bumps against hers. Her inebriated mind can't process her thoughts as they scatter and fly in every direction- Santana's lips are really close to hers. Has Santana confused her with someone else? Arty, perhaps? Does she think Brittany ill and in need of breathing assistance? Perhaps she should assure her that her lungs are, in fact, fine. She's about to speak when she feels Santana's hand cup her face, holding her steady, and suddenly Brittany's heart begins to race, pounding erratically as she realizes what is surely about to transpire.
Santana means to kiss her.
Brittany panics, feeling trapped, but not repulsed by Santana- she's terrified of the possible consequences that may befall her once Santana realizes just whose lips she unwittingly kissed, because surely she doesn't mean to kiss Brittany- a woman. Brittany struggles to find her voice, but her brain seems to have gone on unforeseen holiday; she's paralyzed with shock and something else, some feeling she's entirely unfamiliar with that grips her low in her stomach and in her chest, daring her closer. She ignores the foreign urges and instead leans back, trying to maintain some semblance of modesty, but Santana's grip on her is strong, and Brittany's pulse races faster, her breath coming rapidly without her control; she knows something is about to happen, but-
"Mrow."
Brittany feels relief and- disappointment?- wash over her as Lord Tubbington breaks the tense moment with his impatient meow. Santana releases her hold and leans back slightly, though not nearly far enough to be viewed as respectful to Brittany's personal boundaries. She drops her gaze down to her feet to find Lord Tubbington petulantly glaring at her.
"Fuckin' cat," Santana mumbles sullenly. "He won' ever leave me alone. Dunno what he fuckin' wants."
"Maybe he wants you to t-touch him," Brittany stammers, realizing the implication of her words seconds after they leave her mouth. Santana presses closer, her brown eyes dark and smoldering as they burn into Brittany's.
"I think he does," Santana breathes, and for a moment, Brittany thinks the woman about to attempt to kiss her again. The clear intent in her eyes scares her, because Brittany can tell, without a doubt, that Santana knows it is Brittany before her, not some other male recipient. She shivers as the anticipation and anxious fear make her stomach knot.
"Britt!" Kurt calls from across the deck, searching, and Brittany jerks her head to look, spotting him near the rum barrel, clutching a large canvas bag.
She swallows. "I must go."
Santana remains silent, her expression dark and unreadable, and Brittany feels her heart pounding harder as she turns to acknowledge her keeper. "Kurt, I'm here," she calls, moving away from the corner she'd been backed into and out from the shadows. She pauses to throw one last, cautious glance over her shoulder and finds Santana still watching her, swathed in darkness. Brittany's stomach clenches, her breath catches, and her mind swims with too many questions, struggles to decipher too many emotions. The jarring touch of Kurt grabbing her wrist snaps her out of her temporary stupor, and she forces her attention on him.
"Help me clean up," he tells her tiredly, and Brittany nods, moving to collect stray mugs that are scattered across the deck. Her mind races with a million thoughts, none of which she can clearly discern.
She feels Santana's eyes on her the entire time she cleans, and it's not until Kurt finally releases her to her quarters far belowdeck that she escapes the woman's penetrating gaze; she cannot, however, escape the memories of what had happened, and they replay in her mind continuously until she succumbs to sleep.
Morning comes too soon, and Brittany awakes with a pounding headache and a dry, ill-tasting mouth. Kurt hands her a cup of water which she downs ravenously, but it doesn't cease the throbbing pain behind her eyes. She follows him, yawning, her body aching in a way that has become familiar over the past few weeks, to the galley, her vision spotting from the brightness of the lights. Silently, she reaches for an apron and slips the loop over her head, eyelids still heavy with sleep.
"Regretting getting carried away last night?" Kurt asks her, his tone kind and understanding, and she nods, feeling sheepish.
"I'm never drinking that much again," she mumbles, reaching for her knife to begin her breakfast preparations. "I don't even like spirits." She groans slightly as her head gives a particularly sharp throb of pain and touches her temple, squeezing her eyes shut for a brief moment.
"Hurts?" Kurt coos as he comes up beside her, and at Brittany's nod, he rubs her shoulder soothingly and adds, "It won't for long."
He moves to the stove, and Brittany notices his slight limp. Has he always limped? She furrows her eyebrows as she thinks back to when she first met him and rules out the possibility. He seemed fine yesterday, so it must've happened at some point last night, when-
"Did someone hurt you?" Brittany asks, concerned, and she's even more confused when Kurt's face turns a deep pink. He balks for something to say, and Brittany eyes his neck where she'd spied the bruise the previous night. This morning he'd moved his purple headband down to his neck, where it's tied in a neat, stylish knot, and she can only barely make out the edge of the bruise beneath the fabric. "It's just that- your bruise, and-"
"I'm fine," he insists, turning towards a large pot of bubbling water and hunching his shoulders a little to hide the mark. Brittany tries to think of who could have beaten Kurt so badly, but she knows he wasn't involved in the fight with The Orchid Heart. It had to be one of the other pirates, but the only person she remembers seeing Kurt with is-
"Did Scrap hurt you?" Brittany demands, feeling protective. She's terrified of the brute, but if he's harmed Kurt-
"No, David did not hurt me," Kurt mutters.
Brittany files away Scrap's real name for later, but she's unconvinced. "Then, what-"
"Look, Brittany, I appreciate your concern," he says sincerely, stirring the pot with a wooden spoon. "But David and I- well, it's complicated."
"Oh," she sighs, trying to hide her disappointment at the fact that Kurt refuses to confide in her.
"Hey," Kurt says gently, touching her shoulder again. "I promise that I'm okay."
Brittany nods, feeling slightly better at least knowing Kurt is sound. "Okay."
"Help me with this?"
Brittany grabs a towel so she doesn't burn her hand, and aids Kurt in moving the pot off of the flame and onto the table. Once it's settled, Kurt ladles some of the hot liquid into a cup and hands it to her.
"Drink up. It'll help with your headache."
Brittany takes a trusting, cautious sip and nearly gags from the overwhelming bitter taste before Kurt winces, apologizing as he brings over a lemon wedge and a small jar of honey. The steaming concoction tastes marginally better with the added ingredients, but still barely palatable. However, Brittany's headache instantly begins to lessen, so she continues to choke the drink down until her cup is empty. Once Kurt downs a glass himself and offers her a smile, they resume their breakfast preparations.
It isn't long before the first few pirates stumble into the galley, and Kurt has cups of the disgusting tea ready for them. His movements are so practiced that Brittany is certain he's gone through this routine often, and she shakes her head in wonderment as more and more of the morning crew efficiently shuffle in and out. Even Mike turns up at one point, looking on the better side compared to the group Brittany's seen so far, and he flashes her a smile as he downs his glass and hurries on to his post.
Brittany wonders when- if- Santana will make her way down to the galley, and the thought has her heartbeat accelerating at the thought of seeing her after the previous night, but the morning passes by and she doesn't make an appearance. Once released from kitchen duty, Brittany is put to work with Jake, scrubbing the main deck. Remnants of spilled rum and what Brittany suspects is vomit- though she sincerely hopes otherwise- soil the deck, and she's hyperaware of the sun rising high into the sky, beating down on her as she swabs the mess.
She hums pleasantly to herself as she works, and the afternoon stretches on. Brittany's thankful for the cool breeze and decides she rather enjoys being abovedeck, rather than below. The smell of the salt, the cold splash of drops on the wind, and the sound of The Tide Ripper cutting through the waves fills her with content, and she wonders how close they are to the island Brittany has begun to call home.
The sounds of laughter and shrill whistles grab her attention, and she turns to find Santana staggering up the staircase that leads to the galley, still wearing her pirate clothes. Brittany pauses in her scrubbing to observe as the lady pirate stumbles across the deck holding her head, and assumes she'd just come from a visit with Kurt for some of his magical tea. The men around the ship tease and catcall Santana as she walks- Here comes your pussy, Dia! and She's a pussy sweet-talker, all right!- and it takes Brittany a moment to realize why- Lord Tubbington scampers beside Santana's black boots, his large belly swaying as he rushes to stay hot on her heels. Brittany stares, silent and surprised and feeling as if she's in on a special secret, as Santana storms angrily across the ship to her quarters- located beneath the forecastle- while the pirates rib her good-naturedly from their posts.
"The only one of us who gets pussy on the daily, eh, mates?"
"Share your pussy with us, Quartermaster!"
"Shut your fuckin' yaps, all a'ya," Santana growls. She reaches the door to her quarters and huffs, flouncing inside and slamming the door behind her- shutting Lord out. He flicks his tail, obviously peeved, and meows angrily; the door reopens a crack, just wide enough for him to squeeze his squishy body through, and as soon as Lord scampers inside, the door slams again, resulting in the surrounding pirates erupting into raucous laughter.
From her spot on her knees on deck, bent over a suds bucket, Brittany smiles fondly. She's not the only one who knows Santana is kind of squishy inside, the way Lord is squishy outside. It reassures her that she's not just making up her observations.
Santana really isn't as cold-blooded as she thinks.
A full day has passed since arriving home, and Santana has been enjoying the time in her bed, sleeping and trying not to think of Brittany. She's found relief with her hand several times, but the fact that she has to resort to such a desperate means of satisfying herself frustrates and humiliates her. She's a pirate. Why does the thought of hurting a silly girl bring her revulsion? She's supposed to be merciless and cruel, not sweet and encouraging- ugh, does she hear herself?
She glares at Lord, who's sprawled at the foot of her bed, purring. It's all his fault. He's ruining her image. That must be it.
Sighing, she decides she might as well get up and greet the day. It's been too quiet since they arrived home. Puck hasn't bothered her once, and that worries her greatly, because it usually means he's planning something inane.
Once she's dressed in her comfortable shirt and breeches, she ties her hair back in a low ponytail with a thin ribbon and makes her way into the main room, following the sound of voices. When she arrives, she finds Puck and Arty as she expected- bent over a pile of scrolls and maps, arguing.
"-another score!" Arty says firmly. "It's unnecessary. That platinum, if it is indeed platinum, should be enough for all of us to retire."
Santana laughs loudly, causing Puck and Arty to look at her. "Are you kidding me?" she asks as she moves to sit in a chair and plops her boots up on the table, right on what looks like a very important scroll. She inwardly smirks at the horrified look in Arty's eyes. "The way Puck regularly visits that repulsive whore at The Beiste? We'll be lucky if it lasts us the rest of the season."
Puck smirks crookedly at her. "Like you're one to talk. Or have you given up women, finally?"
"You'd love that, wouldn't you?"
"I ain't denying that's true." Puck shrugs, and turns back to Arty. "See? Even Dia-"
"Don't call me that."
"-agrees with me. It won't last. We have to go after this final, big score. We have to get into Lao."
Arty pauses to push his glasses further up his nose. "Which we still haven't figured out how to do."
"I'm shocked," Santana comments, amused, as she inspects her nails.
"It will come," Puck says confidently. "In the meantime, we need to actually sell the damn platinum we found. If no one will buy it, it's fuckin' useless."
"We do run the risk of no one knowing its worth," Arty points out.
"Don't worry about that," Santana says casually. "David will know who to sell it to."
"'Xactly." Puck nods. He turns to Santana. "And while we're on the subject- I have a job for you."
"I don't want it."
"I need you to get the platinum ready for-"
"No."
"And just why not?" Puck muses. "It can't be that hard."
Santana sits up, placing her palms flat on the table as she glares at her Captain. "Puck, those bars are covered with jam and all kinds of other revolting residue from whatever was in those jars we smashed. I'm not fucking touching them."
Puck grins. "Come on, Dia- you don't have to do it yourself. Recruit someone to clean them up."
Arty nods in agreement. "I'm sure Brittany would enjoy the break from her normal activities."
"I'm not recruiting Brittany."
"Why not?" Arty wonders, blinking in surprise, and Santana clenches her jaw, struggling to come up with an explanation of why she'd rather anyone else.
"The better question is, can we trust her with the bars?" Puck asks, crossing his arms.
Arty laughs. "Oh, please- she's not smart enough to steal them-"
"She's not stupid," Santana snaps, bristling, but regrets it immediately when Puck looks at her with a curious smile. She internally wonders how she sounds, defending the girl, and curses herself for caring, but she doesn't back down. "Look, all I'm saying is- don't underestimate her. She's the one who discovered those bars to begin with. She's smart- and observant."
Nodding thoughtfully, Puck grabs his chin. "Hmmm. All right- use her, but keep an eye on her. I trust you can do that, Dia?"
Santana wants to protest. She wants to wipe that challenging smirk from Puck's face. But she can't do either of those things without revealing her weakness, and she's not even figured out her emotions for herself yet, so instead, she nods in agreement, wondering why she bothered to open her mouth in the first place.
"So… how long have you been a pirate?"
Santana sighs irritably as Brittany makes yet another attempt to draw her into a conversation, and keeps her attention focused on the apple she's painstakingly eating. She's been ignoring Brittany's questions in between watching the girl meticulously wash each bar of platinum for the last twenty minutes, wiping and rubbing at them until they gleam in the lamplight. Despite her stoic demeanor and her utter lack of response to anything Brittany's said, the girl remains infuriatingly cheerful and talkative. Santana's kept her guard up, struggling not to give away how very much the girl's proximity affects her. She's reminded, again, of how completely unsatisfied she's been feeling lately, and she clenches her jaw, trying not to watch the way Brittany stretches to reach for another brick, or notice the small noise she makes in her throat when she hefts the heavy object.
Santana swallows. Brittany's not cleaning nearly fast enough.
"Where's your favorite place to travel?" Brittany tries again.
Silence. Santana continues to slowly carve her apple, raising her eyes to the ceiling, exasperated. Will Brittany never get the hint?
"Must you always be so silent?" Brittany sighs, sounding slightly defeated. Santana simultaneously rejoices and feels disappointed. "It can't possibly hurt you to talk to me, can it?"
Santana remains silent, slicing a hunk of apple off and keeping it pressed to her knife with her thumb before bringing both to her mouth. She chews loudly, enjoying the crispness and the sweet juice. Kurt always picks the best apples.
"You talked to me the other night just fine," Brittany points out, and Santana stiffens at the reminder. Her heartbeat trips into a pounding, racing pace; she doesn't remember much of that night, only that she'd been unable to suppress her desire to touch. She's certain she'd nearly succeeded- she vaguely remembers the way Brittany felt pressed against her, and it's fueled her fantasies since.
"Will you only speak with me when you are drunk?"
Santana barely hears her, too caught up sorting through her feelings and the memories of the night in question- not that she'd answer, anyway. She swallows her mouthful of apple, staring at the fruit in her fist. The quiet stretches for a long moment, and then Brittany breaks the silence once more.
"Will you not even offer me a piece?" And her voice sounds so full of humility that it makes Santana's heart pang with remorse, which in turn makes her angry.
"Do you not understand that I am not speaking to you?" she demands viciously, glaring, but Brittany remains unaffected.
"But you just did," she says, furrowing her eyebrows.
Santana stares at her incredulously, perplexed and internally fuming, and finally, because she can think of no other course of action that might result in her desired outcome that doesn't involve her silencing Brittany with her own mouth, she cuts off a chunk of apple and offers it to her.
Brittany smiles graciously as she accepts the proffered slab of fruit and takes a bite, her teeth crunching into it and a drop of juice dripping down her chin. Santana watches it longingly, imagining sucking it from her skin, imagining the way the sweetness of it would taste mixed with the salt of her skin, and she barely suppresses a groan of yearning.
"Are these your favorite?" Brittany wonders, sucking the rest of the apple into her mouth, and Santana stares dumbly for a moment before her mind catches up to the question.
She wants to reiterate that they are not having a conversation, but the message never reaches her mouth, because instead she asks, "Why do you say?"
Brittany shrugs, dropping her gaze to her sticky fingers. "You eat them rather often. I thought perhaps you might be fond of them." She slides her finger into her mouth, laving the lingering juice away, and Santana's mesmerized by the sight of her pink tongue flicking over her digits.
Santana swallows, her mind once again rushing to catch up, and once it does, she feels flattered that Brittany's noticed something so basic and, in her opinion, uninteresting about her. Heat rises to her cheeks, which surprises her- she shouldn't be so thrilled by such a simple statement. She reminds herself again that she's a ruthless pirate, and shrugs indifferently in response. "I like them, yes," she answers shortly.
More silence. Brittany seems to be waiting for something, but after a long moment, she says, "Are you not going to ask what my favorite is?"
Ruthless pirate. "I care not."
"Oh," Brittany says, not sounding offended in the slightest. "Well, it's strawberries," she offers.
"I just told you, I care not," Santana grumbles.
Brittany grins slyly. "I don't believe you."
"Are you almost done?" Santana huffs, popping the last piece of apple in her mouth.
"I've been done for several minutes," Brittany tells her with a nonchalant glance at the clean and shiny bars stacked neatly around her.
Santana sputters, nearly choking on the apple. "Well, why didn't you say something?"
Brittany shrugs again. "You failed to ask," she says politely. "I was also unaware that your only purpose for being here was to wait for me to finish with the bars... I thought-" she hesitates, and Santana can see the pink beginning to stain her cheeks and the way she fidgets nervously, picking at a loose thread in her pants. When she speaks, it's low and shy, embarrassed. "I thought perhaps you might have desired my company."
Santana swallows her last bite of apple.
She desires more than her company.
That night at supper, Kurt immediately notices that Brittany is distracted and not herself. She's too buried in her thoughts, troubled by her lack of progress with Santana. It seems like no matter how she tries, Santana still resists. She thought she'd been making progress, but then-
"All right," Kurt starts, stopping and wiping his hands on his apron, "What's wrong? You're acting like I demoted you back to eating gruel for breakfast."
Brittany smiles a little at Kurt's attempt to cheer her up, but then sighs. "I just…"
"What, Britt? You can tell me."
"I really want to be Santana's friend," Brittany admits shyly. "But I feel like she doesn't like me- she avoids any attempt I make at conversation, and acts like I repulse her on some innate level. I feel like every attempt I've made to befriend her ends with me more discouraged than ever, and-"
Kurt cuts her off with a laugh. "Santana definitely doesn't hate you," he says in answer to her hurt, incredulous look. "But if you really want to win her over, I have an idea. You can bring her breakfast in the morning, if you'd like; use it as an excuse to thank her for your boots and trousers."
"They were from her?" Brittany gasps.
"Mmhm," Kurt answers slyly. "She was all too glad to help."
Brittany pauses, her thoughts racing with the new knowledge. Santana donated her boots and trousers to her- the very ones she's wearing. Brittany must thank her. Maybe that's why Santana has been refusing her friendly advances? Perhaps she's offended that Brittany never specifically showed her gratitude.
Well, that will change in the morning.
Relieved, she returns to her supper duties, chopping various vegetables into small chunks, looking forward to when she will see Santana in the morning. She feels worlds better- until Kurt calls to her.
"Brittany- will you give me your hand?"
Brittany immediately freezes, feeling alarmed. Her hand? She's already denied two men her hand! She panics, her heart pounding with fear at the possible consequences of her refusal of Kurt's proposal. She can't lose him, he's been so good to her, but-
"Kurt," she starts sadly, wringing the front of her apron in her hands, "I'm really flattered, truly I am, but I don't-"
"Oh, Brittany, honey, no," Kurt laughs reassuringly, grabbing her hand and placing an apple in it. "I meant nothing of the sort- only to give you this, in answer to your earlier woe."
"Oh." Brittany blinks at the apple in her palm and releases a breath. "All right."
Kurt chuckles, reaching to squeeze her shoulder. "You're beautiful honey, but I prefer the touch of a man."
"Oh," she repeats, staring at him for a moment, her mind spinning. Then, it clicks. "Oh."
Kurt nods, smirking and unfazed by Brittany's surprised expression. "It's why David and I…" He touches his neck absently. "Like I said, it's complicated. But I prefer the company of men."
"Me, too," she nods. "I think."
"You think?" he echoes, furrowing his eyebrows. "You don't know?"
"I-" She starts hesitantly, but stops as she considers his question. Dark, silky hair and deep, brown eyes immediately pop into her mind and she swallows. "I- yes. Yes, a man," she says awkwardly, blushing.
Kurt smirks again, and Brittany wonders what he knows. "Did you have a gentleman you were meeting in Argo? Or were you running away with someone? Your Captain friend?"
Brittany shakes her head fervently. "Samson? No, he was just a good friend. I've never..."
Kurt waits patiently for her to continue, encouraging her with a low hum, and Brittany clears her throat, feeling suddenly self-conscious. "I've never- well…" She pets her pants nervously, dropping her eyes from Kurt's gaze, and he nods.
"I see." He shrugs. "It's nothing to concern yourself over," he promises. "Now let's finish supper so you can get yourself to your quarters. Morning comes early." He winks at her and Brittany blushes again, returning to her duties, thankful for the distraction.
She hopes Santana accepts her gift.
Brittany takes a deep breath before raising her hand to knock on Santana's door. In her hand is a tray containing Santana's breakfast, Lord Tubbington's breakfast, and her appreciation apple. When Santana hoarsely calls for her to enter, Brittany twists the handle and nervously pushes the door open. She's about to greet Santana when her eyes fall to the woman, who's still in bed- naked. Or at least, Brittany assumes the rest of her is as naked as her shoulders and collarbone and arms-
Santana looks as surprised as Brittany, but doesn't move to cover herself, and once the realization sets in, Brittany's eyes slam to the floor.
"Forgive me," she mutters, her cheeks heating.
"You have offended no one," Santana says, her voice rough from sleep, and Brittany shivers involuntarily at the sound. It's so quiet and tense that Brittany can hear Lord Tubbington as he pads across the room and the slight rustle of the sheets moving as Santana inhales and exhales. "What is your purpose?"
"I've brought your-"
"Look up, unless you're speaking to the floor."
Cheeks still hot, Brittany tentatively raises her gaze to discover Santana sitting up in bed, the sheets crumpled around her waist. She's relieved that Santana isn't, in fact, naked, but wearing a very thin, black camisole that does little to hide the shape of her figure. Her eyes trace over her toned, bare shoulders and arms, across her exposed collarbone, down her well-endowed chest and back up to the soft-looking black hair that's beautifully tousled. Feeling her mouth become suddenly dry, she swallows a few times before she tries again, "I've brought your breakfast."
"And his?" Santana jerks her head to indicate Lord Tubbington, and Brittany nods in response. "Very well. Set it on the table, then leave."
Brittany moves to obey, placing the tray on the small table near the wall and feeling disappointment burn through her. She lingers over the tray, placing her hand on the apple, and musters her courage.
"Is there something else?" Santana asks tiredly.
"Yes." Brittany turns, holding the apple, and Santana's eyes widen in pleasant surprise. "I never thanked you."
Santana's eyes soften, and Brittany takes it as an encouraging sign. "For what?" she asks, and her voice is low; it rumbles with an affectionate undertone, and Brittany's pleased at the response. Kurt was right.
"For letting me have your old boots and trousers," she states plainly, taking a hesitant step closer.
Santana's eyebrows furrow. "I didn't-"
"Kurt told me it was you," Brittany admits.
"Did he?" she says, and her tone sounds playful, amused instead of annoyed. Brittany internally cheers, praising herself for saying the right things. "And the apple?"
"For you," Brittany says gently, her voice barely above a whisper as she averts her gaze to the fruit in her hands.
"Come here," Santana hums, her voice commanding but soft, so soft, and Brittany feels tingles spreading through her chest as the sound reaches her ears. She moves closer, and when she reaches the bed, she offers the apple. Santana accepts it as if it's made of glass, holding it delicately in her lap, and Brittany meets her eyes.
"Thank you," Santana breathes, brown eyes dark, and Brittany's heart pounds so hard she worries it might break out of her chest. Warmth floods through her entire body, and before she can stop herself, she's reaching to touch Santana's bent knee through her blanket.
"I want you to know that I'm grateful," Brittany tells her, holding her gaze, her hand lingering, and then Santana breaks the contact, her breath suddenly heavy.
"As am I," she mutters, and Brittany nods, sensing the sudden shift in energy and mood, feeling like maybe she should exit on a good note. She turns to leave, shutting Santana's door behind her, and once she's safely out in the hall, she takes a deep breath and releases it.
She floats all the way back to the kitchen, happy with her obvious progress.
She's fucked.
She's so fucked.
She thought she could resist, but why the fuck does Brittany have to make it so difficult? She's stronger than this stupid urge, than this ridiculous feeling, isn't she?
Hades' Fire, did she have to touch her like that?
Santana groans, resting her head in her hands, wishing she could escape her troubling thoughts. It's late, and she's alone in the mess, seated at a table with just a small kerosene lamp for company. She just needed a nightcap, but the nightcap turned into two, and then three, until she finished the bottle and opened another, and still she can't stop thinking about blue eyes.
The sound of footsteps meets her ears and she looks up from her brooding to see David shuffling towards her.
"Better slow down, or you'll end up sleepin' on a shoal."
Santana scoffs as he pulls out a wooden chair and drops heavily onto it, reaching for the bottle. "I've slept in worse places."
David grins. "I seent it. At least lemme catch up."
She sets her glass down and waves at him, waiting, and he downs his own glass quickly before pouring himself another.
"So what's gotcha soakin' yer brains, eh?" he starts casually, taking a long drink of his liquor.
Santana pauses, wondering if she should tell him. It takes her two seconds before she decides that she can't. "Nothin'."
"Aw, c'mon."
"No- you'll laugh," she insists, gripping her glass tightly.
"Yer right," he admits, and she shoves him, "but it might help, anyway."
She swallows. "I'm frustrated."
"With what?"
"Who is more like it."
"Is this 'bout that crazy girl in port?" he demands, setting his glass down pointedly. "I thought you broke it off with her-"
"I did," she grits. "This ain't about that."
"Then who's it 'bout?"
She sighs. No use hiding it. "Brittany."
"Who?" He thinks for a moment. "The blonde slave girl?" He laughs in disbelief. "That's who's got you all ruffled? You need a good roll in th' sheets, Santana. I'll pay, if you want, next time we ship-"
"That won't help," Santana growls, picking at a chip in the wooden tabletop. "My problem is entirely her. I want to fuck her brains loose."
"You sure she has brains, eh? She don't seem too bright-" he stops when he notices her scathing glare, and stumbles over his words, "-but then, uh, I dunno 'er, so-"
Santana ignores his fumbling, lowering her voice to a deadly hiss. "Do you realize how hard it is for me to resist visiting her quarters?"
David blinks at her, shaking his head slowly. "You need your sheets toss'd more'n I thought." He downs his drink. "Did you forget who you are?"
"She- does something to me, Dave," she mumbles, and David smacks his forehead in exasperation.
"Aw for fuck's sake. You're a fuckin' pirate and you're over here pissin' 'bout your fuckin' feelings? I thought you had some lady-rocks."
"I do," Santana insists.
"So if you can't resist her, then why are you? I mean, I doubt she'd be able to resist you- not that she'd want to, eh?" He elbows her in jest, and Santana can't help but smile a little.
"She wouldn't," she agrees thoughtfully.
"So I'm failing to see a problem, here… if you want her, then take her."
"She's… it's not that simple. She's so good and innocent and-"
"Oh, Hades- do you care about her?" David demands, half horrified and half teasing. "You have feelings for-?"
"Stop that, now," Santana hisses hotly. "I do not. I'm simply worried about being her first- she'll get all- attached, and the las' thing I need is another fuckin' crazy girl."
David nods. "You're right. But still… fuck her 'til she can't walk properly, but make sure she knows what it's about."
He gives her a meaningful look, but Santana shakes her head. "Even if I could, she still belongs to Kurt. He'd never let me have 'er like that."
"Who says Sparkles has t' know? He's not floatin' over her fuckin' bedside, is he, th' creep?" Santana processes for a moment. He touches her shoulder. "Look, 'm jus' sayin'- go in there, fuck her- though maybe not so she can't walk, y'don't wanna leave any evidence." They both crack a smile. At her positive response, David continues, "And Sparkles will be none th' wiser. Brittany ain't gonna say shit to him- not if you remind her how fuckin' delicate her life is. I'll do it for you, if y'want." Santana nods firmly, lost in drunken thought, her resolve strengthening.
"Bitch'll be beggin' you to fuck her again, eh?"
Santana laughs, downing the contents of her glass. She slams it down when she's finished, grinning wickedly.
"Yeah."
The following evening, Santana determines it's time. It's just past supper, and she knows that the working day is over, and that Brittany will be in her room. She checks herself over in the mirror- her hair is down, and clean- she'd spent the afternoon enjoying a leisurely bath, relaxing and preparing herself for the evening. She looks convincingly harmless, and damn fine if she does say so herself. She's unarmed except for the ever-present knife hidden in her boot, which she hopes she won't be needing. She doesn't want the evening to turn in a foul direction- she just wants to satisfy herself, and then leave. It's been too long since she's had that sexual power over someone... She hopes Brittany doesn't put up much of a fight.
Slight guilt gnaws at her as she makes her way to Brittany's room through the dark, fire-lit tunnels, but she tries to ignore it. She doesn't have time to feel squeamish or hesitant- Puck had told her earlier in the day that he wanted to ship out the morning after to secure the supplies for their journey, and that meant sailing to- and porting at- Phiny, the mainland. It was a fortnight away, which meant extended time on ship and no opportunity for the privacy she needed in order to execute her plan.
Her plan that seemed brilliant when she was drunk.
When she reaches Brittany's door, she takes a deep, calming breath, reassuring herself, and knocks, though she does not need permission to enter if she chooses; however, she doesn't think barging in unannounced would be a desirable way to achieve what she wants. The door opens, and Brittany's eyes widen in shock, her cheeks instantly flushing pink, and Santana can tell that she's the last person Brittany was expecting to greet.
"Santana, good evening," Brittany says in surprise, stumbling over her words, and she hastily opens the door wider, standing back to gesture her inside.
"Brittany," Santana smirks, keeping her calm, cool demeanor as she enters Brittany's room. When the door closes, she smirks wider. She scans the room- it's mostly bare, since Brittany hasn't acquired many possessions yet. Some random items sit perched on Brittany's small wardrobe, most of which are old tin cans or glass containers (what Santana would consider trash) that she'd probably collected from her days working in the kitchen. The rest are small wooden knick-knacks that Mike must have given her, and a length of rope that Santana recognizes as the piece Brittany's been using to practice her nautical knots. She's unprepared for the feeling of pride and admiration that spreads through her at Brittany's dedication to bettering herself. The girl never ceases to amaze her.
She shifts her gaze further and finds the bed is unmade, a book surely borrowed from Arty resting open on it, which tells her Brittany had been reading before she'd interrupted her. Before she can stop herself, her heart twinges with the knowledge that Brittany shares something in common with her- they both enjoy reading.
"I like what you've done with the space," Santana tells her smoothly, and as Brittany catches her line of sight, she stumbles to her bed, hastily trying to straighten it.
"I'm sorry- I didn't expect-"
"Relax, it's fine," Santana reassures softly, and Brittany raises her embarrassed gaze up to meet her eyes. Santana traces her eyes over the smear of pink across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, and can't deny that Brittany is truly breathtaking, even as disheveled as she is standing before her. It makes Santana swallow, heat flashing through her in a sudden wave, and she's reminded sharply of exactly why she's there.
"Thank you for visiting me," Brittany tells her, fidgeting awkwardly, looking everywhere but at her, and Santana likes the power she holds over her, though somewhere in the back of her mind she also wishes she didn't intimidate her so. Silence seeps over them for a moment, and Brittany seems at a loss for what to do. She has nothing to offer Santana- nothing but that which Santana came for, though Brittany is entirely unaware of her motives- and she feels ashamed of the condition of her quarters and her own ill-prepared state.
"Would you like to sit?" she mumbles, gesturing to the bed, and Santana nods, moving to sit gracefully on it, making herself comfortable. Santana smiles at her, and Brittany feels better. Maybe Santana isn't judging her after all. She must know that it's not her fault she has nothing, right? She sits a respectful distance beside her, and lets the tension dissipate.
Inwardly, Santana is laughing in triumph. She has Brittany right where she wants her, and now all she has to do is distract her so that she can make her move. She nods towards the length of rope atop the girl's wardrobe. "How's your bowline?"
Brittany follows her gaze and reaches for the rope, worrying it nervously in her hands. "I've been practicing," she offers timidly.
"Show me."
Brittany nods and obediently begins to work with the rope, creating a loop like Matt had shown her, then twisting the other end around and through carefully. When she finishes, she presents the knot to Santana, who smiles endearingly at her.
"You've improved a lot," Santana tells her, not bothering to hide the pride in her voice as she hands the rope back. Brittany blushes at her compliment, and turns to place the rope back on her wardrobe. Santana follows her movement, noting the easy accessibility of the rope for later, if she needs to restrain the girl beside her.
Once she deposits the rope, Brittany turns back to her but winces sharply, reaching up to touch the back of her neck, where she rubs briefly.
"What's wrong?"
"It's nothing," Brittany reassures her, and Santana raises a doubtful eyebrow.
"It doesn't look like nothing."
Brittany laughs nervously. "I just- it's sore. I might have slept on it wrong, or maybe injured it when I was hunched over those bricks the other day."
Santana nods in sympathy, but can't believe her luck at the opportunity she now has. She scoots closer, gesturing for Brittany to show her. "Here- may I?"
She can see Brittany's throat move as she swallows. "Sure…" The girl turns away, pulling her hair off her neck, and Santana feels conflicting emotions. On the one hand, she's grateful that Brittany is so unquestioning- it makes her task that much easier. But on the other hand, she's angry- why does Brittany have to be so damned trusting? Does she not recognize the danger she's in? Does she not realize she could get hurt? What if it were someone else visiting her? Would she still give him her back, knowing she has no knowledge in defending herself?
Slowly, Santana reaches to put her hand at the base of Brittany's neck, surprised by the supple softness, the way firm muscles quiver and relax under her touch, the way Brittany becomes pliant beneath her hand. She gently pushes her forward, guiding her to lie down, again experiencing conflicting emotions at the way Brittany does so without protest.
Her hands move lower, to her shoulderblades, and Brittany releases a small moan, which immediately sends her pulse racing. She works down her spine, noting how Brittany's breathing picks up, grows heavier, ragged. Santana can practically feel her own heart pounding in her chest as a result, and when she reaches Brittany's breeches, she immediately grips her shirt and tugs it free and up a little, exposing her lower back; then, before she can stop herself, she slides her warm hands onto even warmer skin.
Beneath her, Brittany sucks in a shaky breath, arching slightly at her touch before melting back into the bed, and Santana smooths her hands over the strong, tense cords of muscle in her lower back and the dip of her spine, feeling her pulse pounding everywhere. It's been entirely too long since she's touched a woman, and Brittany is the most attractive woman she's ever seen. Santana doesn't know what it is, but something about the girl captivates her unlike anyone or anything ever has. She hopes that feeling will go away once she finishes what she came here to do- she doesn't like being powerless.
She assesses her position and imagines taking her; it wouldn't be hard. She could easily tangle and trap the girl in her own shirt, free her breasts, and slip her hand under her hips to loosen the belt on her breeches. She could tug them down roughly in just a few short seconds and then nothing would stop her from plunging her fingers into tight, wet heat, and finally being in control again. Her hands shake thinking about it, and she puts more pressure into her movements to hide it. When Brittany moans again, she bites her lip.
"That feels so good," Brittany breathes.
You have no idea, Santana smirks to herself. She drops her eyes to Brittany's ass, staring shamelessly now that there's no one to judge her for it, and swallows; it's time to make her move.
She hesitates. Can she really do this? Brittany's been nothing but kind to her, but then again, she's also done nothing but lead her on with her looks, and her coyness, and her touch, fuck- Santana knows she wants it. She's seen it in her eyes. But still- is this how Santana wants it to be? Does Brittany deserve this?
She chews her lip, debating, and then a gentle knock on the door breaks her out of her thoughts, saving Brittany (saving her.)
"Britt?" Kurt calls. The door opens a crack and he peeks in. "I brought you some- Santana?" The door quickly opens the rest of the way, revealing Kurt holding a pair of long, gray stockings. "What-"
"She's making my neck feel better," Brittany tells him happily, pushing up onto her elbows, and the joyous, innocent look on her face makes Santana's stomach turn.
"You are?" Kurt asks, turning to Santana and raising a skeptical eyebrow.
"I was just finishing," Santana mumbles as she rises from the bed, knowing she's been caught, knowing Kurt doesn't believe her shit. And he shouldn't.
"Right," he spits, and Santana exits before he can say anything more, just barely catching Brittany's, Thanks again, Sant- before she shuts the door and hastily makes her way down the passageway away from Brittany's room, her heart pounding for an unknown reason. She struggles to slow her breath, unsure why she feels as if she just ran a race. She's not sure whether she's angry or relieved at Kurt's interruption, but if she's certain of one thing, it's that she needs to figure out her emotions.
She's almost outside when Kurt catches up with her, grabbing her arm.
"What the hell was that?" he hisses, glaring at her. She shrugs her arm free.
"Exactly what she told you."
"Whale shit," he snaps. "What were you really doing?"
"Nothing," she sulks. "Nothing fuckin' happened."
"Because I walked in!" he shrills. She crosses her arms and looks away, feeling like a scolded child. Kurt moves to catch her eyes, his tone serious. "You're not to touch her, Santana."
"And what if she wants it?"
"She doesn't."
"She does-"
"She doesn't know what she wants," Kurt argues, furious, and Santana can't remember the last time she's seen him so upset. In a foreign way, it makes her happy that Brittany has someone who truly cares for her. "You'll only confuse her," he continues. "This is the first time she's ever been on her own, give her some time, Satan- for Hades' sake!"
Stunned, Santana asks, "Well, which is it?"
"What?"
"Hades or Satan?"
Kurt rolls his eyes. "You know I don't believe in either." Santana sighs, frustrated in too many ways. Kurt takes a deep breath. "Look, I don't want to fight with you, okay?" He places his hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. "Please respect my property."
"How long am I to wait? What if she comes to me? What then?"
"If she comes to you, reject her," he says easily, shrugging.
Santana shakes her head bitterly. "I'm only human, Kurt."
He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "You are more than just a human, Santana. You are my friend."
He releases her shoulder and brushes past her, but she grabs his shoulder. He turns to look at her and she stares hard into his eyes, clenching her jaw for a moment before muttering, "Have Mike install a lock on her door once we return. I'm not the only pirate on this island."
Kurt's expression darkens and he nods briefly before moving to carry out her request, leaving her standing at the mouth of the cave with her thoughts. She lets out a long, exasperated breath. Why did he have to use the friend argument?
It's been several days since Brittany's seen Santana. She hopes she didn't upset her or offend her, but as more time passes without seeing her, Brittany worries that she has. She's been aboard The Tide Ripper for days, and though Kurt had informed her of their reason for shipping out, she's still not completely sure of what they're doing. She knows they are to get supplies for a long journey, but she hasn't quite figured out that journey's purpose. When she'd explained her confusion to Kurt, he'd simply laughed and agreed that most of the crew didn't know the journey's purpose, either. She wasn't sure if she felt better, or worse.
Because of the length of their voyage, Kurt had foregone preparing elaborate meals in order to stretch their supplies, which meant she had more time to help the others with their duties. Her days on ship had become easier now that she'd made her way through the piles of work that had been collecting before she'd become a slave. It was easier to maintain the ship, and even the other pirates had run out of tasks for her to do; she found herself with a lot more free time, which she spent helping Sugar with her tasks- though she was awful at them- or cat-napping with Lord Tubbington. One time she'd even climbed up to the crow's nest to talk to Brett, awed by the height and the way she could feel every slight movement of the ship from so high up. Oftentimes, Matt put her to work making rope, and she'd finally reached the point where she could do it without thinking too hard about it, which unfortunately left her with a lot of time to think about other things.
Many times she'd hoped Santana would come to her, if only to say hello. She imagined the woman apologizing for being away, and then she'd sit down and they'd make rope together, talking and laughing. She's not sure why she yearns so for Santana's company- it's not as if she doesn't have friends. She has Kurt, Mike and Matt, and if she needs a lady friend, she has Sugar. She knows her daydreams are silly, but she can't help dreaming them, all the same.
On the eleventh day of their voyage, Jake fetches her from the storage hold, where she'd been sorting through old rigging at Matt's request. She follows him up to the main deck and her stomach immediately tightens as she spots Santana standing next to Puck, gazing into the distance. Was she the one that summoned her?
She looks at Jake questioningly, and her stomach tightens further at his reply. "There's a ship."
Her heartbeat picks up as she spots the vessel in the distance. She had not forgotten her original purpose, but she'd hoped they wouldn't come across any Lycan ships. She has no idea where Phiny is located, but it can't be near Lycas, otherwise she would know of it, wouldn't she?
What are the chances she'd be lucky twice?
When she reaches Puck's side, he smiles at her. Santana, however, remains silent as stone.
"Jus' the lady I wanted t'see," Puck says, immediately handing over his spyglass. She obediently lifts it to her eye and peers out into the horizon, which is just a little foggy.
"Tell us if that ship's worth robbin'."
Brittany swallows nervously, scanning the ship until she spots the familiar blue flag. This time, instead of a shield, it has a large black X on it, with a thin red arrow travelling horizontally through the center of the flag. Again, Brittany has no idea what the flag represents, but she has to take her best guess.
"It's- it's a messenger ship," she says confidently, handing the spyglass back to Puck, who nods, considering her words. She feels good about her choice. After all, why would they want to pirate a messenger ship? What could they possibly gain there? And, if it's not actually a messenger ship, they won't get themselves into trouble-
"Take us in!" Puck shouts, and the pirates immediately scramble to turn The Tide Ripper towards the Lycan ship.
"What?" Brittany asks, appalled. "But it's just a messenger ship-"
"Aye- and we might as well see what kind of message they be carryin', eh?" Puck tucks his spyglass into his waistcoat pocket, and Brittany grips the deck rail tightly in her hands, feeling cold dread falling over her.
Santana takes over the commands again, and Brittany can't help but swoon at the sharp tone of her voice.
"David," she starts, and David nods, already hurrying down to his position on the gundeck below. Santana looks at Jake, who's already raising the black flag signifying their outlaw status to the Lycan ship.
Brittany waits tensely, chewing her lip, and when the loud BOOM of David's cannon sounds, she waits for the Lycan ship to lower its flag and surrender.
It doesn't.
Instead, it answers with a shot of its own, and it cuts through the air with startling speed and accuracy. The round lands on the starboard side of the main deck, near the half deck at the back of the ship, and smashes into the wood, causing a great deal of damage.
David's at the impact site before Brittany can process what's happened. She can sense that Puck has stiffened beside her, and it's silent for a moment as they wait for David to inspect the round.
"They aren't backin' down, Cap'n!" Brett yells from the crow's nest, and Brittany's sense of fear intensifies. She already knows she's in so much trouble.
"Neither are we," Puck growls loudly. "Stay on course!"
A loud curse from David draws Brittany's attention back, and she finds him straightening up, wiping his hands on his pants, leaving black streaks of soot behind. He looks at Santana, his eyes wild with anger.
"That's battle artillery," he says. He turns to glare at Brittany, who shakes at the murder in his gaze. "That ain't no messenger ship- it's a fuckin' warship."
Aw snap, Britt's in trouble! D:
And so are the pirates, probably. Buuut I guess you'll have to wait and find out!
Thanks for reading, everyone. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. As I said, I will try and update as often as I can, but I have a lot going on in my personal life, but again, I promise not to abandon this story. I have a lot planned for it that I want to share, and I'm excited to write the next few chapters.
In the meantime, feel free to check out The Red Will Light Our Way by BetTheDuckIsInTheHat, which is also a fun, but entirely different, pirate story. Show her some support, guys. :D
Okay, well, review if you feel like it, but if not, I hope I'll hear from you on the next voyage, yuk yuk! ;)
FUN FACT TIME:
Willow bark was used ~back in the day (and actually, still today by herby people) as a painkiller, because it contains the chemical salicin, which is basically like straight-up aspirin. Consumption methods back then included chewing the actual bark- uh, gross- or steeping it into tea, which is what Kurt did in the story.
Puck's wild story is loosely, vaguely based on the song, The Mariner's Revenge by The Decemberists. I think it's a fun song. Also, The Mermaid Song is an actual old-time sea song, though in this story it's a faster, more up-beat version. If you want to listen to it, you can find it on YouTube, but it's kind of slow. Though, if Santana and Arty sang it, I'd buy that shit on iTunes, probs. XD
See you next time!