A/N: HALLOOOO~
Okay, first off- I AM SO SORRY that this chapter took forever. I promise never to make you dear, sweet bbs wait that long again. ;-; please forgive me. I'm still working on this story, I swear.
Second- I just want to throw a shout out to one of the most under-appreciated performances in Glee, the costumes of which were partly what inspired many of the outfits in this story. Despite Never Been Kissed being literally a hot fucking mess of cringeworthy moments awfully pieced together one right after the other, the shining gem of that horrendous 47 minutes is Start Me Up/Livin' On A Prayer. Seriously, EVERYONE was fucking hot in that number. But Quinn and Santana's headgear and all the leather definitely gave me a lot of the original ideas for this story, so can we just take a moment to rewatch it? All of Glee is on Netflix still so there's no reason you can't turn on the episode, fast forward through all the vomit-inducing Will and Kurt moments, and speedily make your way to a real fucking TREASURE of a performance. Or, you know, just use YouTube if you can navigate the sea of low-quality trash out there. It might be faster. (I just have Glee queued up on Netflix already for all my needs, lmao.)
ANYWAYS. There's FINALLY some M-rated shit in this chapter! So you know, don't freak out! XD
"I welcome you into my home and this is how you repay me?" Tina demands angrily, shaking her head, shaking her fist dramatically. Brittany feels her stomach sink with guilt at the words, for she knows Tina is right. "You are not royals- you are nothing but pirates. And you.." The fist Tina had been shaking instead stabs an accusing finger at Brittany, her other hand gesturing to a guard by her side, bracelets jangling in the tense quiet. The guard holds up a piece of parchment, which unrolls theatrically to reveal a drawing of Brittany's likeness scribbled on it- Brittany can't help but admire the skill, for the drawing looks remarkably like her. She nods as she scans her eyes down the parchment, impressed at the sight of the hefty reward printed largely at the bottom- is that really how much her life is worth?
Tina continues, her voice rising angrily with each word, "I will return you to your father and collect the prize. It will be a small payment for the indignities you have caused me!" She commands her guards forward with hasty waves of her hands. "Seize them!"
Everything happens in a blur after that. The wall of palace guards charge at the trio seemingly from all angles, eager to do as their Empress demanded; one stabs at Santana with a long spear, and in one quick motion, she dodges to the left and wraps her right leg around the shaft in return, pulling it from his grasp. Then, with incredible balance, she swings the loose spear around behind her, the butt of it connecting with the head of another guard. The move is so graceful and impossible that Brittany wouldn't have believed it if she didn't see it happen right before her eyes.
Santana elbows another charging guard in the face with her right arm, grips the handle of the sword attached to his side with her left, and draws it in one fluid motion as the guard collapses to the ground, clutching his shattered nose. She points the curved weapon in the direction of the perimeter wall. "Get to the ship!"
Brittany vaguely spots David plow through four or five guards; somehow Mike is at her side, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her firmly along to follow in David's wake. Someone tosses him a sword- maybe Santana, Brittany can't be sure- and he cuts the throat of a guard rushing them to their left. Hot blood sprays across her arm, but she swallows her shock and keeps pace with the pirates as they retreat towards the high stone wall surrounding the palace grounds, the only barrier left between them and the beach leading to the Tide Ripper.
"Watch it!" Mike warns, shoving her hard to the right, and an arrow embeds itself in the ground where her foot had been seconds before. She looks up, following the arrow's trajectory to the top of the wall- an archer stands taking aim at her again, and she has only precious seconds to panic over the realization before a golden throwing knife lodges in his throat. As if in slow motion, the archer staggers and falls, his body landing lifelessly on the ground in a spatter of blood.
Rattled, Brittany turns to Mike, who doesn't seem at all surprised or fazed; in explanation, he looks over her shoulder, where Santana is sidling up to them. "Told you I'd give it back," she says, a half-amused grin on her face. Brittany is shocked by her wicked sense of humor, and even more shocked at her involuntary smile in response to the joke. Has she been corrupted?
Brittany scans the tall, smooth wall and identifies, with a sinking feeling and only slight panic, their utter lack of materials to scale it. "We're trapped."
Mike shakes his head, and as if on cue, a loud whistling fills the air. He pulls Brittany to his chest, shielding her as the wall explodes apart a mere twenty feet from where they are standing. Chunks of stone fly as a huge hole opens up in the wall from the cannonball fired by the nearby Tide Ripper. If any of the debris hits her, Brittany's too amped up to notice or care.
"Knew training that kid would come in handy," David mutters in relief.
"There's our ride!" Santana shouts. "Let's move!"
Brittany feels proud of herself for managing to endure this entire venture in her ballgown and high-heeled boots, but feels sad that her delicate outfit is probably ruined as she climbs over the burning chunks of crumbling wall. She's sure she's gained several cuts and scrapes from her hasty hike over the jagged stone and the previous explosion, but she cares naught for anything except escape as she emerges from the other side of the wall and pushes herself to keep up with Mike.
"Can you swim in that?" Mike asks doubtfully as they race towards the beach, Tina shrieking at her guards to give chase from behind them. The dark outline of the ship Brittany's come to think of as home looms in the distance, seemingly growing no closer despite their hurried pace towards the water.
"Are you kidding?" Brittany gasps. "I can barely run in it-"
"I was afraid of that," he says grimly.
Brittany's calves feel as though they are on fire once they begin their grueling trek through the dunes, her dress boots not designed for walking on sand, let alone running on it. The heels sink deep into the sand, making each step a challenge. They reach the surf just as she feels her legs have turned to pudding, and Mike pauses awkwardly while she struggles for breath. "We have to swim a bit. Which means you're going to have to take this-" he tugs at the shoulder of her dress, "-off."
She freezes in disbelief, still breathing hard. "What?"
"No choice- unless you'd rather stay here?"
Brittany looks back briefly; Santana and David are emerging from the hole in the wall, weapons drawn. A jar of spare lamp oil has shattered over the opening, coating the stones and causing them to burst into flames as their pursuers, carrying torches, draw near. Temporarily blocked from chasing them, Tina and her followers shout obscenities from behind the wall of flames, and Santana and David begin their hurried trek down the beach towards them. Brittany turns back to Mike and immediately begins to rip her gloves off. "I need help with the back…"
Mike circles around behind her and begins to undo the laces, cursing at the knots. It's then that Santana reaches them, no more out of breath than if she took a slow stroll along the coast, but with a line of blood dripping down the right side of her face. "Go," she orders Mike, and Mike bites his lip but doesn't argue, knowing he is of no help to the situation. He leaps into the water and begins swimming in the direction of the ship, which still seems an unbearable distance away in Brittany's field of vision.
"Hold still," Santana mutters, inspecting the dress for only a moment. "This is going to be quick." She grips the laces on the back and carefully slips her knife beneath them; then, with one deft movement, she pulls her knife down through the entire dress, severing it to Brittany's calves. The silky fabric slips from her shoulders easily and puddles onto the sand, leaving Brittany shivering in her chest wrap, long undershorts and boots, which Santana quickly bends to cut the laces on, as well.
"Let's go."
Brittany doesn't have time to feel exposed or embarrassed as Santana grabs her hand and pulls her towards the water, but her already-racing heart races more at the touch. They splash into the frigid surf, David by their side, and Brittany's stomach clenches tight with nerves- she didn't expect the water to be so impossibly cold, and she fights her instinct to turn around. Tina's men are moving within range- a spear splashes into the froth beside her, forcing her to hasten her pace into the waves, and she can hear other weapons landing nearby, missing them by fate's design alone. Santana curses when a knife nicks the side of her thigh- they don't have time to hesitate. When they finally plunge completely into the water, Brittany gasps at the unbearable cold.
"Swim," Santana orders, and Brittany struggles to obey her Quartermaster, mentally urging herself to continue as her limbs, already losing feeling, respond sluggishly. Santana takes the lead, swimming out ahead, but David sticks to her side as they cut through the waves into deeper water. Brittany forces herself to swim, convinced that life as a slave in Tina's palace is far worse than one in Davey Jones' locker… She knows the cold is slowly sapping her energy and warmth and she's running out of time- but the ship still seems so far away.
She coughs as a wave slaps her in the face and frigid salt water invades her nose and mouth. She fights to stay above water, her body beginning to shut down and her limbs feeling heavy and lethargic. She's never experienced such cold before, having spent her life safe and warm in the luxury riches provide- it's starting to consume her. The water looks almost black and she still can't reach the ship. Is it getting farther away? She can't tell, her vision beginning to blur, stinging from salt. Listlessly, she looks for David, but it's a struggle just to breathe, especially when another wave, bigger this time, drives her underwater. She struggles to reach the surface, searching for air- she can't feel any of her body, and she's so very tired. But she can't rest, yet, can she? She sinks, seeing only black…
"Brittany, stay awake," Santana demands, and a hard smack to her face rouses her. She coughs, her throat rough from the saltwater. Sudden feeling comes back to her body and with it, pain from the cold- she's freezing. Prickles ignite her skin and she shakes violently; somehow she knows she's no longer in the water, but she still can't breathe-
"Get her to my cabin, now!" Santana's voice, far away. Santana… Brittany likes her a lot.
Brittany is just about to tell her so when she drifts back into black.
"Her skin is frigid, Mike," Santana snaps, her voice laced with fear. "She swallowed too much of the damn ocean!" She throws open the large, black, weathered trunk at the foot of her hammock and gathers her warmest fur blanket from inside, then carefully covers Brittany's pale, chilled frame, tucking the edges tenderly around her limbs. Once satisfied that Brittany's as warm as can be, Santana wrings her braid out, pacing impatiently beside the long wooden table where the unconscious girl rests. She's never wished to own a bed before-
From his place beside Brittany, Mike shakes his head, amused at her obvious concern. "She'll be fine, Quartermaster, it's just ocean water."
"She's not used to it like we are- and she was under for too long. She could die."
"She's breathing, though- thanks to you. I'll monitor her. You need to change before you catch your death, as well."
"Move her to my cabin," Puck commands from the doorway, and Mike and Santana look up. "She can make use of my bed- I'm sure it will offer her more comfort than a tabletop." He grins, and Santana glares at the floor. "When she wakes, draw her bath. I'll send Kurt along with some tea."
"Aye, Captain," Mike nods. Gently, he scoops Brittany into his arms and lifts her, then carries her out of Santana's cabin, careful to mind the walls and doorframe. Santana watches him go, her mind racing and her heart still pounding with a fear she dares not give reason to.
She swallows, her throat feeling tight. Then, she turns to Puck, her eyes expressing the gratitude she cannot voice. Puck only nods, understanding her meaning without words, before following Mike and allowing her privacy to change.
Once alone with her racing thoughts, Santana sits down in a nearby chair, resting her head in her hands and trying to calm herself for long, silent moments. An innumerable amount of feelings flash through her, many of which confuse her. She doesn't like this new fear- it makes her feel helpless in a way she hadn't felt since her father left her as a child. She doesn't like the way Brittany has control of her emotions, even without meaning to. She doesn't know how it happened, or even why- but somehow, Brittany has managed to break through her defenses and Santana has found that she cares about the girl in an unexplainable way, more than just a part of her crew.
Her own feelings are a mystery, but even more unforeseeable is what Santana is going to do to remedy them… because one thing is certain- she cannot accept them.
Nor should I, she reassures herself silently. Having such a fear cannot benefit me in any way. After all, what good is caring for another? She cares for her crew, surely; but they have spent years earning such a sentiment from her, and losing them is not a cause for the same fear she feels from the thought of losing Brittany. What is wrong with her?
Determined not to allow herself to languish in these feelings, she reminds herself that the only clear solution is to remove the cause- Brittany must be dealt with. Both for the girl's own sake- since she clearly cannot handle such a dangerous lifestyle- and hers.
Once calmed, Santana begins the methodic, careful task of changing, cleaning herself up and dressing her wounds, a ritual she's performed many times in the past. The injury on her thigh is just a deep scratch- one she's sure doesn't need sutures. It stings all the same, though, as she rinses the saltwater from the wound in her personal washtub, but she embraces the pain as a welcome distraction from her fruitless thoughts. She inventories her bruises and scrapes, and once satisfied that she's attended to all of them, she slips on some clean, dry clothes and makes her way to the main deck, resisting the urge to check on Brittany- she can't lose control over her emotions like that again.
Arty greets her when she arrives, giving her the ship report- they are clear from the Laoan harbor, sustained minimal casualties, and are well on their way to disappearing into the vast ocean where Tina's ships, if in pursuit, will never find them. The map has been recovered and rests in Puck's cabin- mission successful.
"How's Brittany?" Puck asks, and Santana presses her lips together, wondering if Puck asked for her sake, or if he was simply curious himself.
"Awake, sir. Mike's taken good care of her. Kurt brought her drink and drew the hot bath you requested. You've nothing to fear," Arty reports with a nod.
Santana sighs. "No, I do." She licks her lips, trying to decide where to begin, trying to sort through her conflicting emotions. Finally, with Puck and Arty both staring at her, waiting for her to speak, she decides to just spill her thoughts. "It would benefit us not to take Brittany on any more missions."
"What?" Puck demands, his eyebrows rising in genuine surprise. Santana would think his facial expression comical if not for the seriousness of the current topic. "How? The girl is invaluable."
"And she almost got killed!"
Puck blusters. "We all did! What makes her so special? Or have you grown to care for her more than the rest?"
"Really? You've gone soft?" Arty genuinely wonders.
"And so what if I have?" Santana points at Puck. "Can you stand there and tell me you don't care?" She switches to Arty. "Or you? She's not meant for this life- you know she's not. And if we continue to put her in harm's way, sooner or later, her blood will be on our hands."
Puck shuts his mouth; Arty averts his gaze to the deck. He pauses to consider before saying, "So if we don't bring her along with us, then what do you propose we do with her? It's obvious the girl does not wish to return home."
Santana takes a deep breath, preparing for the backlash, before she continues, "We leave her with the Beiste."
"What!" Arty exclaims, so startled that his glasses slip down his nose. He corrects them hastily, looking flustered.
"You can't be serious," Kurt snaps from behind her, and her eyes shut for a moment at his sudden presence- of course he would turn up now. She turns to him and her eyes drop down to the cup of hot cider he's holding that was obviously meant for her, and guilt grips her stomach.
She releases a heavy breath. "I am. I know it's not the most appealing option- but at least she will be safe there. And we can always visit her-"
"No," Kurt cuts in, shaking his head at the cup clutched in his hands. "Are you mad? Do you really think Brittany would be safe at the Beiste?"
"Is she safe here? She nearly died, today, Kurt- and I'm the only one who seems to care about that fact."
Kurt raises his gaze to her, his eyes alight with a fury so passionate it makes her stomach clench. "Let her stay with me in the kitchen, then! You don't have to use her the way you've been!"
"I doubt she'd be content with that," Puck admits. "Not after having been included."
"And you think she'd be content with what Satan's proposing?" Kurt shoots back. He pauses, glaring first at his Captain, then at his Quartermaster. "Hypocrites, the lot of you. You don't care about Brittany. This isn't about her at all." He lifts his head in challenge. "If you really care about her as you claim, then bring her to Argo. It was her original destination, and well out of harm's way."
Puck rubs his chin. "Argo is… quite a journey."
"It's all the way on the other side of Callyst," Arty agrees lowly, shaking his head.
"To fund such a venture-"
"Santana has the money," Kurt says. He looks pointedly at Santana, putting her on the spot. "If you care as much about Brittany as you claim, fund her trip to Argo."
Santana swallows, silent. It's not the money that makes her hesitate; though the cost of such a journey is no laughing matter, it would not bankrupt her- she has more wealth than she knows what to spend it on. Something else keeps her from offering her purse, holds her back from sending Brittany far away beyond reach, and Kurt, triumphant in proving his point, shakes his head bitterly.
"Hypocrites," he repeats. "You're unwilling to send her to true safety, but content with the thought of another's hands upon her? Forcing themselves on her against her will? You're heartless-"
"Enough," Santana growls through her teeth, the truth behind Kurt's words stinging her. No, she's not content with those thoughts at all- she's not heartless- but she will not show weakness, not in this. "At least she will be alive."
"What a life," he sneers, disappointed in her- he really thought that she'd grown to care for Brittany after everything, but even now, he can't believe her goal is still to be rid of the girl.
Clearing his throat, Puck moves to stand between them, entering the uncomfortable stalemate that's risen between his comrades and raising his hands in a gesture of peace. "Listen, we aren't going to decide anything right now… but either way, I think a trip to the Beiste might be good for morale-"
"And good for your cock," Arty interjects, trying to lighten the mood, which is unbearably tense.
Puck nods with a sly grin, "No shame in it. It'll help us to lay low for a bit while we unwind, let the waters calm. We could all do with a little unwinding." He gives Santana a pointed look. Then he turns to Kurt. "And Poseidon knows- maybe Brittany will like it there and want to stay on her own."
"If you think that then you know Brittany far less than Santana thinks she does," Kurt snarls. He gives one last disgusted shake of his head before slamming the cup of cider down angrily onto a nearby crate, spilling a good portion of it. His angry steps echo into the night as he disappears back to the kitchen.
Santana swallows, staring at the cup, her stomach feeling so tumultuous she cannot even think about drinking the cider. She feels Puck move beside her and she shakes her head, wishing for this conversation to be over, but having no such luck.
"You may have Kurt fooled, but I ain't buyin' it- I know you better, and I know you care for Brittany," he says softly. "Are you sure you don't wish to go to Argo?"
She sighs. "I do… but something holds me back." She doesn't elaborate further. She doesn't know how to explain the feelings within her, because she doesn't understand them, herself.
Puck only nods. "Well, perhaps a trip to the Beiste will clear your mind." He pauses. "I know you said Brittany's not meant for this life, but do you truly believe it?"
"Noah-"
"Or are you afraid that, despite everything, she is?"
Santana stares into the cider, contemplating her captain's words as she listens to his footsteps trail off. He is more right than he knows; she is afraid- for the first time in her life, she has finally found someone she cannot bear to lose.
Brittany shivers as Kurt pours another pot of heated water into the wooden basin at her feet. She's soaking them in the hot water, letting the steam continue to warm her. She's already washed the salty oceanwater from her skin in the bath, but was told by Mike, the closest thing the pirates had to a medic, to remain warming herself for a while longer- not that she's complaining. She has a thick, fluffy fur blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and a steaming cup of delicious cider (compliments of Kurt) in her hands, warming her insides. Puck had allowed the use of his quarters and washtub- though Kurt swears he's obviously never used it- for her to clean up and warm herself after her refreshing swim…
…which she's still not sure how she managed to survive to begin with; everything that happened after she'd entered the ice-cold water only comes to her in vague, brief flashes. She takes a sip of her cider, noticing Kurt's worried eyes on her, not for the first time.
"How is it?" he asks anxiously.
Brittany stares down into the cider, swirling the cup a little, watching the inviting amber liquid give a tiny splash. "Well, it's lovely," she admits. She forces a smile.
"Are you okay? How are you feeling?"
"Warm," she answers. Then, finding the courage to look into Kurt's face, she asks the question that's been plaguing her mind for the past hour, the question she'd been too preoccupied with freezing to death to ask: "Kurt, how am I alive?"
Kurt offers her a tiny, sad smile. "Honestly, I'm not sure, myself... Mike reached the small boat we had deployed to aid you first, but Santana pulled you from the water and kept you from slipping away." He shakes his head, confused and disappointed- if Santana wanted Brittany gone, why did she work so hard to save her? Why is he- once again- having to argue for Brittany's life? Doesn't Santana ever get tired of fighting a losing battle?
"Santana…" Brittany breathes, hugging the fur blanket tighter. It makes her feel safe for reasons she can't explain. As she pulls it closer, the barest hint of a familiar scent teases her, and with it, a hazy memory flashes through her mind… Santana leaning over her, gripping her jaw, her brown eyes clouded with barely-contained panic and concern, her mouth open- Brittany looks up at Kurt, startled by the sudden remembrance. "She gave me breaths?"
"You'd swallowed a lot of water, Britt. She kept you alive," he allows, his eyebrow twitching in annoyance, "but you dare not thank her for it quite yet."
"What do you mean?"
He sighs and cups her cheek. "Don't worry about it. I'm just grateful you're alive and that we all made it out without much injury." He stands, patting his thighs down awkwardly. "The Captain has allowed you the use of his quarters for the night to ensure you've a speedy recovery. Rest, and I'll gather you in the morning. We will be porting again soon."
Brittany nods absently, taking a sip of her cider and mulling over Kurt's words as he leaves. Santana saved her life- again- but he doesn't seem joyous about the deed. What doesn't she know?
An uneasy feeling sweeps over Santana as she enters a place that is all too familiar to her. She's not sure why she's feeling such a way, considering her current surroundings usually bring her pleasure and joy, but she tries to shrug it off. Trailing behind Puck as he swaggers through the door, the comforting scents of burning tobacco, worn, aged maple wood, and various spiced incense embrace her as she moves deeper into the establishment. The lighting is low and the music is soothing. She closes her eyes, relieved.
This is what she needs. She'll shake off the unease.
"Well, if it ain't my favorite clients!" Shannon Beiste, the owner, hollers when she spots them. The woman is large-boned with a solid, powerful frame- exactly the kind of person Santana would expect to be running a brothel. Despite her intimidating appearance, however, Shannon has always proven to be fair, kind, and of a generous nature- a perfect Momma Bird to her many baby swans. "Lambs, look who's graced the House of Beiste with his presence! Captain TigerShark, himself!"
Pleased at the introduction and the dutiful round of applause it produces, Puck sweeps his wide-brimmed hat from his head and stoops into an extravagant bow, which has Santana rolling her eyes before Shannon introduces her, too.
"And of course we're all honored to host Ira Del Diablo- c'mere!" Shannon yanks her into a rough bear hug, leaving one of her thick arms resting around her shoulders and the other around Puck's. She escorts them towards the center of the room, which is decorated with luxuriously overstuffed chairs, plump chaise lounges, and wooden tables adorned in brass accents in every corner of the room. A modest, intimate stage highlighted in dramatic lighting draws attention to one side of the room; a long bartop boasting spirits of all colors in bottles and jars of all sizes draws attention on the other. Sweet-smelling smoke from incense and special cigars floats in the air, giving the atmosphere a dreamy, relaxed feeling. "Come in, come in! You know the routine- siddown, have a drink!" She turns to shout at the bar, "Dani!"
A pale, dirty-blonde woman looks up from behind the bar top, her face lighting as she lays eyes on them, and Santana feels that uneasy feeling spike momentarily before she angrily shoves it away. "Yes, Madam!"
"Bring the usual for our favorite guests!"
Laughing with joy- probably from the small fortune her establishment is about to make, Santana reasons- Shannon leaves them to go make what she calls special preparations, and another female, tall and brunette, approaches, sliding arms sensually around Santana's neck.
"Dia," she purrs, pressing closer as Shannon starts ordering rounds of drinks in the distance. The rest of her fellow pirates pass her to move into their usual areas of the establishment, led away by scantily-dressed women.
"Elaine," Santana acknowledges neutrally, trying to ignore the sudden annoyance she feels because of her building unease- why the hell are all these feelings happening now? She's supposed to feel relaxed, not tense-
"It's been a while," Elaine breathes into her ear, stroking a hand up her arm. Santana clenches her jaw. Elaine's touch doesn't calm her, and that's never happened before. "Where've you been, baby?"
She swallows. "You know how it is…"
The bartender, Dani, saunters over seconds later, holding a small glass filled with a deep amber liquid. "Your usual, darlin'," she says in her seductive, slow drawl, and Santana forces a smile before she takes a long drink from the glass. Maybe the alcohol will help her lose these lame, unwanted feelings.
"Who's your friend?" Elaine wonders, staring predatorily over Santana's shoulder. Santana turns to look, suddenly realizing that Brittany is standing right behind her, has been this entire time. Her stomach feels like winter just came upon it, but again, she forces the feelings away.
"Oh- nobody." She shrugs, sliding her hands onto Elaine's waist, despite her emotional turmoil. Dani leans in to lick against her ear, and Santana shivers, her body responding to all the sudden attention she'd been deprived of for so many weeks- attention that somehow doesn't comfort her the way it should, the way it usually does.
Determined to fix it, she downs the rest of her glass before turning to Dani, leaning in and kissing the spot just beneath her ear. Dani moans and Santana smiles against her skin. "Bring me another?"
"Anything for you, honey."
Dani saunters away and Elaine smiles. "I'll make sure our room is ready." She gives Santana a lingering kiss on the cheek before she twirls away, and Brittany stands, awkward and confused by her side, her stomach flipping with too many emotions for her to make sense of right then. She feels angry, sad, rejected, betrayed, jealous, jealous, jealous, but why? She still hasn't even started to sort out her feelings of arousal from the other night at Tina's, and now there's even more layers. She doesn't know where they are or what's going on.
"Who're they?" she asks, her voice soft. She hopes Santana doesn't hear the way it wavers.
"Dani and Elaine," Santana answers shortly, feeling angry for no real reason other than Brittany is there and that somehow everything feels wrong for the first time in her life.
Brittany tilts her head slightly in confusion. "Danny? Isn't that a boy's name?"
"It's short for Danielle," Santana grumbles, her anger and frustration rising. She shouldn't have to explain herself to Brittany- she owes the girl nothing. And yet, she needs Brittany to disappear so that she can relieve herself, because for some reason, the girl is ruining her enjoyment by being present. She turns to the blonde, her face a mask of cold indifference. "Listen- I'm sure you've never been to a place like this before, but this is what we do. We're pirates," she challenges, "and if you want to belong, go find yourself a plaything and disappear, or wait on the ship. I'm sure Kurt will cover whatever pleasures you decide to partake in. And if he doesn't, I will."
"Pleasures?"
Confused, Brittany looks around the room as Dani returns with another glass of alcohol and Elaine leads the trio away to a darkened corner. She sees many of her crew relaxing on comfortable-looking pieces of velvet-lined, plush furniture, all of them clutching mugs of liquor and fawned over by women of immodest dress, their ample breasts barely covered, their thighs and stomachs and backs exposed. It suddenly dawns on her that they are at a brothel, a place she had doubted the very existence of, having never actually seen one in real life. Brittany's eyes widen as she realizes the meaning in Santana's parting words- did the pirate woman really expect her to throw herself into the arms of a strumpet?
Saddened by Santana's opinion of her, she searches for Kurt- surely he's not actually participating in such festivities? She scans the various areas and finally recognizes him in a dark corner, tangled up in a heated kiss with David. Stunned, Brittany finds it difficult both to watch and to tear her eyes away from the pair. Feeling even more alone, she desperately searches the room, looking for somebody, anybody familiar that she can talk to, but everyone is preoccupied or not within sight, and she begins to feel completely isolated. Even Sugar is sprawled out on a daybed with-
"Hello," a young woman greets from her right, and Brittany startles at the greeting before she turns her attention to the woman. She has long brown hair and warm, brown eyes, and though shorter than Brittany, she is not unattractive. "I'm Rachel. Would you like to sit?"
Feeling trapped but also somewhat grateful for the kindness, Brittany can only nod, and the girl named Rachel leads her over to a lavish loveseat in a small nook against the wall. She sinks awkwardly onto the cushion, keeping her back straight, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her royal upbringing subconsciously coming forward in her actions.
Rachel sits right next to her, her bare thigh brushing against hers, and Brittany tenses further, swallowing. There's plenty of room on the sofa, so she wonders why Rachel's so close- "You should relax," the girl advises sweetly. "Would you like something to drink?"
"Yes, please," Brittany croaks, and Rachel smiles.
"I'll be right back."
Relieved at her departure, Brittany waits, her hands wringing nervously in her lap, as Rachel saunters to the bar. It occurs to her that the trollop did not ask what she would like to drink, but Brittany doesn't much care. Trying to distract herself, she observes that shallow velvet partitions block her view immediately to the left and right, but she can clearly see directly across the room, where Santana is lying back against plump purple pillows on a chaise lounge, with Elaine straddling her lap. The two are locked in a kiss, with Dani sitting behind Elaine between her legs, and Brittany suddenly feels her stomach growing cold, a sick, sinking feeling twisting inside her, and she doesn't like it. She touches her chest, curious as to why her heart is pounding so painfully, an experience she's never had before. Is she sick? Why does she feel nauseous?
"Here you go," Rachel says cheerfully, snapping Brittany out of her thoughts, and she accepts the glass Rachel offers with a trembling hand, downing it in one giant gulp. "Goodness," Rachel comments at her thirst. "What's your name, sugar?"
"My name is not Sugar," Brittany blurts nervously. Where is Sugar, anyway? She thought she spotted her earlier on the daybed, but now, a quick glance in that direction reveals her absence. She could sure use a friend-
Rachel giggles, stroking her fingers up Brittany's forearm. "All right." Brittany's gaze drops to those fingers, freezing as though a sea serpent is slithering up her arm. Before she can speak, however, a loud ringing sound from the stage grabs her attention, and she looks over to find Shannon, the Madam, smiling and holding what Brittany thinks is a microphone (she's only seen one a single other time, while visiting one of her father's friend's estates.)
"Good evening, ladies and gents, we have some special guests here tonight in the House of Beiste!" Shannon booms, confirming that the weird metal object in her hand is, in fact, a microphone. The house erupts in loud applause and cheers, and Shannon grins roguishly. "Captain TigerShark, of The Tide Ripper: Bane of Man, Teeth of the Sea, Destroyer of Worlds, and-" she pauses for dramatic effect, "Ladies' Hearts, is here with his crew of savage pirates!" The pirates respond with various roars and growls- to prove their savagery, Brittany assumes- and several of the harlots pout appropriately. Shannon raises her hands to halt the chorus of disappointed sighs. "Not to worry, not to worry, my little lambs- they aren't here to break any hearts tonight."
Brittany can't help but smile at the antics; they seem so rehearsed that she wonders briefly how often the pirates visit this place in order to be regarded in such high esteem. A short drumroll sounds from beside the stage, followed by a symbol crash, bringing her attention back to Shannon.
"We've been preparing something mighty special fer yer arrival," she begins, and Rachel leans in to whisper conspiratorially to Brittany, she says that every time. "Let me introduce my own girls, the jammiest bits of jam this side of the Melosan Sea…"
At Shannon's cue, sensual music begins to play from a group of female musicians seated next to the stage, dressed just as scandalously as the rest of the women in the establishment. Rachel, along with the other working women in the house, rises dutifully, promising to return soon as she moves to the stage for her moment in the spotlight. Shannon introduces each of them, and Brittany watches in fascination at the way their bodies move- she's sure she could never get her hips to do that motion, or her legs to bend that way. She can feel her body responding to the erotic and overtly sexual way the girls dance and touch each other, and she crosses her legs, her mind spinning, wondering why she's been feeling such an attraction to women lately. Perhaps she is sick, after all. But has she always been this way, or has the sinful deviancy of the pirates corrupted her? And if so, does she accept it, or fight?
Without meaning to, her mind flashes back to the way Santana kissed her days past, her mouth hot and forceful, her tongue demanding. She thinks of the way Santana pressed against her when they danced, the way she held her, the way they melted together, moved together, their bodies one. She recalls the way Santana's eyes darken, the way they intensify when they stare at her mouth, and suddenly, the ache between her legs returns, insistent and almost unbearable.
She breaks her stare from the stage, where Rachel is singing a slow, seductive tune that the other girls are dancing sensually to, to instead stare at Santana, who's still leaning back against the pillows, looking relaxed. Her shirt is unbuttoned down to her stomach, her hair is down, and Brittany bites her lip, forcing her gaze away. She must accept that what she feels now is surely jealousy- she cannot pretend she isn't attracted to the pirate. She has been since the day she met her, which answers her earlier question- she's always been this way, she's always burned for women, and yet- Rachel does nothing to ignite her desires, not the way mere thoughts of Santana do. She desires Santana, in all ways one can desire another person, and her residency with the deviant pirates is not to blame- but perhaps those desires make her destined to be a pirate, after all.
A small girl walks by with a tray of drinks, singing along to Rachel's song, and Brittany takes one gratefully, swallowing in huge gulps. She wishes her thoughts would go away. Now that the realization has been made, the reality of her situation has become somewhat unbearable- Santana still wants nothing to do with her, as evidenced by the fact that she's alone on a loveseat in a brothel instead of with the pirate woman.
"Will you be performing?" a somewhat familiar voice asks, and Brittany, slow to react due to the alcohol, looks up; the lights are low, and a haze of smoke hangs in the air, but the flickering stage lights illuminate a woman she remembers seeing before, when she was held captive aboard The Tide Ripper- blonde, green eyes-
"You," the woman states, as if recognizing a book she read a long time ago. "So this is where you ended up?"
Not wanting the woman to be confused, Brittany shakes her head. "Oh, I'm not- I'm with…" She pauses, unsure if she's allowed to disclose. The pirates have code names to protect their identities, and she's unsure how much this woman knows. And even if she does disclose, who exactly is she with?
"You've been claimed already?" The woman asks; then, before Brittany can respond, she answers her own question. "Of course you have- those eyes." She smiles predatorily, moving closer, her bootsteps screaming power and authority. "I have arrived unfortunately late, and my favorite girl is currently preoccupied. May I?" she asks, gesturing to the spot beside Brittany, and when Brittany nods dumbly, the woman sits, regally crossing her legs. Brittany steals a glance at her out of the corner of her eye, studying her flawless face and striking green eyes, which are focused on the stage performance. Her long blonde hair is woven into one thick, elaborate braid, very different than the last time Brittany saw her, but she definitely remembers her now, despite how fleeting the original meeting was- she just doesn't know who she is.
Once Rachel finishes her song, the mysterious blonde woman rises, pausing to address Brittany before she departs. "Perhaps next time," she offers, blatantly scanning her eyes down Brittany's body and making the girl shiver at the heated stare. The woman licks her lips and turns, leaving Brittany reeling from an overload of her senses and thoughts.
No sooner has Brittany started to sort out her feelings about the encounter when Rachel returns, handing Brittany another drink, which she doesn't hesitate to swallow. Rachel sits in the spot the blonde woman had been in not minutes before and smiles at her. "Did you like the performance?"
Brittany nods. "It was very… energetic."
Pleased, Rachel places a hand on Brittany's thigh, causing the girl to jump, her eyes dropping down to stare at it as if it's a rat. She leans in close, her voice dropping down to a sensual whisper. "It's all right," she breathes. "Everyone's nervous their first time." She moves her hand, slowly stroking up Brittany's thigh, and it feels nice but also somehow not nice; Brittany doesn't know why or how that can be. Maybe it's the feeling of something new causing the sensation- she's had males clumsily try to grope her, but never a female. The touch feels so different; softer, maybe. She takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She can feel the alcohol burning its way through her system, addling her brain, dulling her senses, and she tries to take Rachel's advice. Relax.
Still stroking her thigh, Rachel shifts even closer, her body just barely pressing against Brittany's, and Brittany is reminded how unlike Santana Rachel is, if only for the fact that her proximity doesn't cause her pulse to pound. "That's better… let me help you." Rachel tilts her head slowly, her lips pressing to Brittany's neck, and Brittany holds her breath and closes her eyes as the lips travel up to her ear and then along her jaw. Rachel's mouth moves back down her neck, pausing to suck there; Brittany's not sure she likes the sensation, especially when Rachel's teeth bite gently, but she doesn't want to be rude. After a few minutes, Rachel pulls back and offers Brittany a lusty smile. "Want to try something else?"
"Um," Brittany answers, scared what something else means. Rachel ignores her hesitation and instead takes Brittany's hands and guides them to her breasts. Brittany watches as Rachel uses her hands to caress herself, and is more stunned from the fact that she's squeezing a rather nice pair of breasts but doesn't feel any more aroused at the action as she supposes she should. Is something wrong with her?
Rachel leans in to kiss Brittany's neck again, pausing to ask, "Have you ever kissed a girl?"
At the question, Brittany's reminded of the way Santana kissed her, savage, and her heart pounds, her clit throbs, and she licks her lips. "Yes…" she pants, the sudden force of arousal at the memory reassuring her that nothing is wrong with her, just-
Rachel smiles, leaning in, her lips brushing Brittany's. "Then this won't be so new to you…"
"I see you've charmed another one."
The familiar, cutting voice of the blonde woman from earlier saves Brittany, who struggles to withhold her sigh of relief as Rachel pulls back. Brittany's just about to answer that she hasn't charmed anyone, when Rachel turns, her face lighting up.
"Lioness!" she squeals in delight, and Brittany watches as the two exchange an obviously affectionate gaze. Then, her word processes, and Brittany's eyes widen as she realizes that she's sitting before Quinn, the Lioness, legendary captain of the Blood Siren.
"Where did you disappear off to after your song?" Quinn demands gently, shaking her head. "I searched for you."
"You saw my performance?" Rachel asks, cheeks reddening slightly but obviously pleased the woman saw her sing. "I feared you wouldn't arrive in time."
Quinn smiles. "You were stunning, as always, darling," she states matter-of-factly, oozing charm. Then, she turns to Brittany. "Curious… your existence here continues to baffle me."
"She's with Noah's crew," Rachel supplies, confirming to Brittany that both women know her captain on an intimate level.
Quinn's smile changes to something more devious as she moves closer. "Remarkable. I had a feeling you'd win their hearts- what, with those blue eyes of yours… And now, here you are- stealing my favorite girl."
"Lioness," Rachel giggles, blushing.
"I don't suppose you'd mind sharing?" she challenges. Dumbfounded with awe at how beautiful and powerful the woman before her is, Brittany shakes her head and Quinn pointedly sits between her and Rachel, once again crossing her legs. Everything about her exudes nobility and pride, and Brittany feels not only humbled in her presence, but her regal demeanor is something Brittany can relate to. She subconsciously straightens her posture.
"Darling," Quinn purrs with a wry grin, "I do believe you've overloaded this poor girl with your sensuality and good looks- her vocal abilities seem to have completely disappeared."
Rachel obediently drapes herself behind Quinn, her arms sliding over her shoulders to cradle her. She presses her lips to the side of the captain's neck, much as she had done to Brittany earlier; Brittany wonders if that's what she looked like with her as the harlot breathes, "I'm certain you could rile noises out of her, Mistress."
Quinn smirks, eyeing Brittany like a hungry, regal lion eyeing an unfortunate gladiator. "Hmm, I'm certain I could…" She leans forward and cups Brittany's jaw, then brings her lips within a fraction of Brittany's, pausing to breathe for a moment in suspense. "You are still a slave, are you not?" she whispers before closing the gap between them and pressing her lips to Brittany's, whose mind is still processing her stinging words.
Quinn's kiss is very different from Santana's. If Santana is a raging inferno, Quinn is hot lava. Her lips are thinner, and she doesn't hesitate to slide her hand up Brittany's thigh, her touch firmer, more demanding than Rachel's had been. It's not unpleasant, but still unfamiliar, and Brittany finds that she doesn't mind kissing Quinn- maybe even enjoys it (or is that the alcohol?) She kisses back, and when Quinn slides her tongue into her mouth, she licks her own forward to meet it in a sensual greeting. Quinn's hand slides up her stomach and cups her breast, and Brittany presses forward, enjoying the touch… but in the back of her mind, she repeats Quinn's words and wonders- would Quinn stop if she didn't? Does Quinn view her the way the pirates do- as property?
Does Santana view her that way?
Approaching footsteps halt Quinn's hands, but the Lioness doesn't pull away, even when Puck says, "Rachel, there you are- been lookin' all over fer…" He trails off as he notices Quinn, and then notices that Quinn is kissing someone else. His eyes go from Rachel, to Quinn, and suddenly he connects just whom she's kissing and his eyebrows rise in surprise. "Brittany?" he sputters, finally prompting Quinn to pull back and smirk up at him.
Brittany blushes. "Cap'n," she acknowledges, ducking her head in embarrassment. She stares hard at her lap, heart pounding, trying to catch her breath. Quinn's hand hasn't left her thigh and is still tracing slow patterns across it.
"Hello, Noah," Rachel says warmly, offering him a smile.
"Rachel, Quinn," he greets. "How are-"
"She's already spoken for this night, Puckerman," Quinn says, cutting right to the point and squashing Puck's attempt at small talk. "Move along."
Puck looks from Rachel to Quinn to Brittany, confused. "Well, now, no need to be hostile- there's enough of me for both you lov'ly ladies." He offers them a charming smile, and Quinn cocks a disbelieving eyebrow.
"Two? There are three of us here; have you forgotten how to count so soon?"
Puck nods at Brittany and laughs a little, nervously. "I'd rather not face the devil's wrath."
Quinn smiles, curiosity piqued. "The devil's wrath? How very interesting."
Shrugging, Puck spreads his hands in a last attempt. "So how 'bout it, ladies? There's no meat in your sandwich."
"It's a cucumber sandwich, Noah, that's basically the point. Now get out of my sight- there's plenty of other women here to warm your tiny cock with this evening."
Puck laughs good-naturedly, wincing at the insult. "Very well," he relents. With a final courteous bow, he retreats. Quinn watches him leave before turning to Rachel with a mischievous smile.
"Get our usual spot ready, darling," she says. "We'll be along shortly."
"Of course, Mistress," Rachel breathes obediently. She slips off the loveseat, pausing to kiss Quinn slowly, lingering for a moment before she goes; when she finally turns away, Quinn slaps her playfully on the ass, causing Rachel to shriek and giggle as she disappears into the smoky, dark room.
Rising to her feet, Quinn adjusts her waistcoat before turning to give Brittany a challenging stare. "Well?" she asks, offering her hand.
Brittany swallows. Her gaze falls past Quinn, to the chaise lounge Santana occupies. Dani has her head buried in Santana's chest, and Brittany feels her heart squeeze painfully before she returns her gaze to Quinn's outstretched hand.
From her spot laying back against comfortable pillows, with two beautiful, experienced women expertly caressing and teasing her sensitive spots, and enough alcohol in her system to shake off her thoughts and emotions, Santana thinks this must be as close to heaven as she will ever get. Dani is doing the most delicious things to her left nipple, and Elaine-
Hissing in pleasure, her eyes slit open for just a second, and she catches a flash of blonde hair. Despite her better judgement warning her not to, she opens her eyes completely and is greeted with the sight of Quinn leading Brittany upstairs by the hand. Instantly, her lady-erection becomes disappointingly flaccid. She sits up suddenly as her blood spikes with fear and jealousy- and then anger, because why is she feeling like this now? Elaine's kissing her inner thigh, but-
Limbs heavy with liquor, she clumsily pushes Dani off her breast, rolling off the chaise lounge and stumbling to her feet. Her vision swimming slightly, she follows the pair of blondes up the stairs- only tripping a little- and down the hallway, where Rachel is unlocking a door for the trio and Quinn is trapping Brittany with a protective arm around her waist.
"Q," Santana calls.
"Ira Del Diablo," Quinn enunciates slowly, smirking in triumph. "What can I do for you? Have you come to ride my fingers again, or do you want my face this time?"
"Perhaps if the world was devoid of all other suitable women," Santana snaps.
"Suitable?"
"That is, living."
Quinn smiles at the insult, amused. "Then to what do I owe the absolute pleasure of your presence?"
Santana's eyes dart to Brittany, who's leaning comfortably into Quinn's side. It throws her, and she stammers, "I- would have words."
"Oh, we will have many words, S- once I've had my fun for this evening."
Santana points at Brittany. "Not her."
Quinn raises an eyebrow, challenging- she doesn't like to be told no. "And why ever not? Have you suddenly taken an interest in her now that I have removed her from your sight?" The truth of her words stings, but Santana shakes her head in protest. Quinn smiles in understanding. "Very well. You may have my sloppy seconds- and don't worry," she leans in to whisper manipulatively, "I will make sure her master gets paid."
Santana grits her teeth. "She's with us,Q. In servitude." Brittany's heart flutters at Santana's words- with us- and even though she knows it's not the kind of belonging she longs for, it's better than not belonging at all.
"Oh, so she is still a slave?" Quinn hums in amusement. "Well then you won't mind if I fuck her senseless then, will you? It's been so very long since I've broken someone..."
The thought of Quinn and Brittany together ignites a feeling of rage Santana's never felt before, fueled by either her jealousy or the alcohol, she doesn't know, nor does she care. She grabs Quinn's arm tightly, hissing, "Don't you fucking touch her."
Quinn pulls her arm free, laughing. "Oh? And what if she wants me to? Will you stop me, then?" Santana bites her lip, head swimming, heart pounding at the thought. "Then why bring her here?" she demands in response to her drunken silence, cutting to the underlying point. "Why leave her, helpless, to fight off the wild dogs?"
"Kurt gives her certain liberties-"
"Cut the horseshit, Santana. You cannot expect her to fend for herself, especially not as a slave." She releases Brittany's waist, glaring. "Put her away."
Santana swallows, for once not arguing. She will take this up with Kurt in the morning, but in the meantime, she must deal with the current situation.
"Lioness?" Rachel calls softly, and Quinn gives Santana an expectant look before she follows Rachel into the room, slamming the door and leaving an awkward, tense silence in her wake. In response, Santana reaches for Brittany's hand automatically to guide her away, fingers interlacing before she thinks better of the action and releases her hold. She can't lose control- she's too drunk, she knows she's too drunk. She can't have Brittany so close... but the girl is willingly following her to her room, her sloshed mind reasons, and nobody would know- and-
She twists the handle to her usual quarters and opens the door, scanning from wall to wall. Luxurious silk-lined pillows decorate every corner of the room. There's no established bed, just a thick, downy mattress adorned with a silk comforter and blankets, surrounded by fluffy cushions. She tries not to think of the filthy acts she's committed in this very room an innumerable amount of times in the past, and instead guides Brittany inside.
"You will stay here for the length of our time in port. You may come and go as you wish, but remember..." Santana trails off as she notices Brittany staring at her lips, her blue eyes dark. It sends an ache of arousal through her entire body, and she bites her lip, reminding herself to stay in control. Her eyes trace down Brittany's face, down her neck, pausing at the dark bruise marring the otherwise flawless creamy skin at her throat, and before she can stop herself, she's reaching up to trace her thumb over the bite mark, her jealousy sparking once again.
"Why do you look so angry?" Brittany breathes, shaking at Santana's touch. Her body feels overwhelmed with desire. "It was you who encouraged me to participate."
Santana shrugs indifferently, her gaze burning a hole through the bite mark on Brittany's neck. "You should be more careful about who you spend your time with, is all..."
A hot fury rises in Brittany, and under ordinary circumstances, her proper upbringing focused on controlling her emotions- and consequently, her words- would prevail, but with the alcohol blocking her restraint, she finds that her tongue has a mind of its own as she blurts, "The only person I want to spend my time with is you, but you'd rather spend your time with company you must pay for-"
Santana's fingers are suddenly grabbing her jaw, forcing her back, pinning her between the wall and the woman's own body, and when Brittany meets the pirate's eyes, she finds them ablaze with anger. Santana breathes heavily through gritted teeth, invading her space as she growls, "Watch your tongue."
Emboldened by the alcohol and Kurt's repeated promises of immunity, Brittany swallows, pushing her face closer, trying to seem intimidating as her nose brushes against Santana's and their eyes lock in a heated stare of challenge. "You have no right-"
"You have no fucking idea what my rights are," Santana hisses, pressing against her harder, tightening her grip. "I am the quartermaster. Everything on the ship, including you, belongs to me." She releases Brittany's jaw after a lingering glare at her lips, and when the girl doesn't move, her words suddenly register in the pirate's mind- Brittany wishes to spend time with her. Her fingers stroke slowly down Brittany's neck, just barely grazing her skin, as if moving of their own accord. Brittany is still staring hungrily at her lips, and before she can think better of it, her hand drops lower, across Brittany's collarbone, experimentally tracing down her side. Brittany finally drops her gaze to watch Santana's hand move down her body, shivering with desire held barely in check, her skin feeling like fire beneath Santana's fingertips. When Santana's hand reaches Brittany's hips, they both hold their breath, Brittany bucking forward slightly in response, desperate.
"I could take you here- now-" the pirate breathes against Brittany's mouth, "if I desire." Her hand creeps lower, daring, defiant fingers threatening the waistband of Brittany's pants.
Brittany bites her lip but doesn't resist, and as their eyes meet once more, the intensity of the desire burning in her dark eyes catches Santana by surprise- she falters, her fingers trembling in their descent beneath Brittany's pants. Their gazes hold, neither daring to look away, and Santana swallows, her mouth dry, shaken by the blatant want in Brittany's stare.
"Do you?" Brittany whispers, the ache between her legs nearly unbearable, her heart pounding so hard she fears Santana can hear it in her chest. She can barely breathe, her body tense with anticipation as she waits for a response.
But Santana can't answer the obvious question- of course she does. She'd have to cease breathing not to desire the girl, but to tell her that would be to give up her power, her control, and she's not ready to do that yet. So instead, she answers with a question of her own- "Will you not stop me?"
In silent answer, Brittany bites her lip, and Santana searches deep into her eyes for any sign of resistance. Finding none, her hand slides lower, fingertips grazing skin so slippery with arousal it makes her break the eye contact to suck in a shaky breath, heart hammering. Her fingers explore even lower, slipping over Brittany's hard clit, and the strangled moan that claws its way up from the girl's throat in response, the way she tenses, restraining herself from rutting against her, has Santana breathless from the intensity of their shared desire. She feels as if she might explode from the power of it, heart slamming her rib cage.
Brittany gasps against her lips, her hips tense, her body frozen in anticipation, and as Santana slides two fingers down to tease at her entrance, the door handle jiggles, the door crashes open, and a drunken couple come stumbling in. They freeze when they notice the pair, instantly apologizing, taking note of Santana's pirate status. They are not of her crew, Santana recognizes- her crew would know better than to disturb her. This is her usual quarters, after all.
"Get the hell out," she hisses, and the couple slams the door in their haste to leave. The interruption sobers her up quickly, however, adrenaline overpowering the alcohol, and even though her hand is still cupping Brittany's sex, the fog of arousal that had taken over her mind lifts enough for her to gain control of her senses. Her eyes find Brittany's again, and she releases a slow, controlled breath.
Brittany trembles, overwhelmed, desire evident on her face, in her breathing, in the motion of her hips, and if Santana didn't care about her so much, she would spend the night fucking her senseless...
But she does care, Santana reminds herself. As inconvenient and non-self-serving as it is, she cares about Brittany and can't just treat her like a whore- no matter how badly Brittany seems to want it. Regretfully, she removes her hand from Brittany's pants, wetness still evident on her fingertips. Unable to resist, she slips them into her mouth, sucking the taste of Brittany off her skin and causing Brittany's breath to hitch as she watches.
Silently, she forces herself away, taking steps back, releasing Brittany from her trapped position against the wall. Brittany says nothing, nor does she move as Santana turns and exits the room, shaking with desire and fury at herself. Once she's closed the door behind her, she leans back against it, taking a deep, calming breath, her head spinning. Walking away was the hardest thing she's had to do in her life, she's sure of it.
"Dia," Elaine calls from down the hall. She saunters closer. "There you are, honey. Been waitin' for you... are you ready to retire for the evening?"
Santana swallows, casting one final look at the closed door to her room. "Not here. Tell Madam Beiste I'll be needing a second room. And let Dani know to bring another bottle."
Elaine raises a curious eyebrow, smiling. "Gettin' wild tonight, are we?"
Licking her lips, she nods. She can still taste Brittany on her tongue.
Back in Santana's room, alone, Brittany pours herself another glass of brandy from the bottle she'd found placed on the nearby nightstand. She's determined to drink until she passes out, when she will finally be free from her dark and swirling thoughts and the self-doubts eating at her- why doesn't Santana want to fuck her?
She asks herself over and over why someone as beautiful and skilled as Santana prefers the company of whores over her, but perhaps it is because she herself is so unskilled- perhaps Santana believes that Brittany will not be able to please and satisfy her. Perhaps-
Her thoughts are interrupted by another loud cry of passion from her neighbors next door, and she sighs impatiently, taking another swig. A reason to add to her inebriated state, else she'll never sleep through so much racket. She wishes they would finish soon- they've been going at it for at least a full hour… then again, how long are those sorts of activities supposed to take, anyway?
She closes her eyes and wonders what Santana is doing- then painfully reminds herself that she doesn't need to wonder, she knows what Santana is doing. She's rolling in the sheets with Dani and Elaine, and not her.
"Ahh! Yeah!"
She swallows another big gulp of her drink as the pounding against the wall increases in tempo. She can't even really feel the burn of the alcohol anymore. Whether it be because she's too drunk or because she's transforming into a real pirate, she doesn't know, but she can't convince herself of the latter. After all, if she was a real pirate, she would just march up to Santana's room- wherever it may be- and order those two floozies out. And then-
She pauses. She's never actually thought about being intimate with Santana. The idea thrills her, but the details…
What would she even do?
Biting her lip, she realizes that she has no idea where she would start or what she wants. She's never imagined herself and Santana tangled, naked, in the throes of passion, or even what that would entail. She's barely imagined herself kissing the pirate, and most of those images are memories, because she has, in fact, kissed her. The remembrance of Santana's mouth on her brings her arousal pounding back through her, and subconsciously, she reaches up to cup and squeeze her breast, gasping at the pleasure. Touching herself is nothing new- she's brought herself to orgasm before to relieve tension, but none of those experiences seem as real or intense as the one she's currently in, because they've never involved another person. Imagining her hands are someone else's hands, or mouth, is something she's never done.
She smirks to herself- tonight has been full of new experiences, so what's one more? Drunk enough not to care, she removes her clothes and lies back, naked, on the silk comforter, her hands beginning a long, slow exploration of her skin, still humming from her earlier encounters. Her mind drifts, aided by the alcohol, convincing her that the fingers teasing her nipple are not hers, but Santana's. The memories of Quinn's kisses, of Quinn's bold touch, are still fresh in her mind, and she re-shapes them to be Santana. The memories of her quartermaster's kiss, of her fingers between her legs, are still fresh in her mind, aiding in heightening her arousal. When she finally reaches her dripping sex, she spends a good amount of time exploring herself. All of it feels brand new when imagined coming from someone else, and when she slips a finger down to push at her entrance, she realizes she's found it- she's found what she wants.
She wants Santana inside her.
There's a certain intimacy, maybe even a fable she was forced to believe growing up, that revolves around a woman's virginity, and though she knows Santana cannot be with her the way a man can, she wants to share that part of herself, that experience, with her. She wants Santana to take the part of her she's been unknowingly saving. She wants to belong to Santana in a way she can belong to no one else.
The grunts and increasingly desperate cries of her neighbors alert Brittany that they are reaching their finale, and as her mind builds her even higher, to a place where those moans are coming from her and Santana, she feels her body tensing, tightening, arching, until finally-
She cries out with her release, feeling tears springing to her eyes. The powerful flood of her emotions cannot stop her body from trembling, and as she slowly comes down, dizzy and sad, she curls up with the silk blankets piled high on the mattress, exhaustedly letting herself drift off to sleep, alone.
In another room down the hall, Santana lies against her mountain of pillows, naked, with Dani and Elaine passed out in a similar state of undress nearby. She takes a long drag of her cigar and stares into the darkness, unable to sleep.
The next morning sees Santana feeling as though death has finally found her. Plagued with fitful sleep, she's up far too early drinking something Dani concocted- all she knows is that it has tomato juice in it and it's helping her feel less like she was hit by a stagecoach. She sits at the bar nursing her drink, minding her own business and mulling over the events of the previous night. She was alone, with Brittany, and she walked away. She didn't know she was strong enough to do that- as agonizing as it was, she knows now that she can trust herself around the blonde, even completely intoxicated. Perhaps sending her away isn't the only option, but allowing Brittany to stay means Santana will have to figure out how to proceed. It's clear the girl desires her, but what that desire means is entirely different, and doesn't even address the girl's safety. Regardless of what Brittany wants, Santana's not sure what she wants, herself- does she want to simply fuck the girl? And if that's all she wants, then why hasn't she done it already?
Her head aches and she takes another sip of her drink. She wishes she could just crawl into a sea cave and expire, or at least be left alone; she has no such luck, however, when Kurt slides into the barstool next to hers.
"We need to talk," he greets and Santana clutches her cup tighter.
"Please, not now," she groans, her eyes squeezed shut, willing her headache to disappear.
"Here." He slides a mug towards her, and Santana cracks an eye open to investigate. Once she recognizes it as the special tea he makes after a long night of pirate partying, she snatches it up and downs it in one long gulp, coughing once she's finished. She chases the bitter brew with more tomato juice, relieved when the pounding in her head lessens considerably after mere moments.
"Thank you," she says before studying him carefully. She knows he wants something, and she has a suspicion of what that thing might be, but before she can ask what it is, he breaks the silence, much to her disappointment.
"Are the negotiations for Brittany still taking place?"
She nods, taking a sip of her tomato juice, pleased and upset that her suspicion was right. "After sundown this evening."
Kurt sighs. "And you still believe she's better off here?"
Santana stares at him, trying to discern his angle. She doesn't believe Brittany is better off at the Beiste- she's never thought that. But she's too scared to lose her if she stays, and she can't say that out loud, so instead she does what she does best- avoids the question. "You left her alone last night."
"I thought she was safe here," he counters.
Ignoring his sting, she continues, "I had to extract her from the Lioness's jaws. You've got to be more careful with her- she's not capable of managing herself, yet. She's a slave; she has no money, no status, no authority-"
Kurt hums in sympathy, inspecting his fingernails. "Because of you. There's an easy solution here: set her free."
"I can't do that."
He pauses. "You said 'yet'".
Santana raises an eyebrow, impatient. "We done here?"
"Are you done trying to be rid of Britt?"
Santana sighs. "I don't want to be rid of her- I… just want her to be safe."
"But yet you won't send her to Argo?" Kurt challenges, and she winces. Why does the thought of letting Brittany go to Argo seem so terrible? She shakes her head slowly, confused, gazing down into the empty cup guiltily clutched between her hands, and Kurt offers her a pitying stare. "Can you be honest with yourself?" he asks gently, and Santana raises her eyes to him, considering his words. "You can't send her because if you allow Brittany to go to Argo, you're scared you might never see her again. I get it. The only reason you want to keep Brittany here is so you can visit her and have her whenever you want, but not have to deal with your feelings for her at the same time."
"I-" Santana pauses. "I don't have feelings," she mumbles, turning away and picking at a scratch in the wood of the bartop.
"Remember what I said about being honest?" Kurt sighs. "At least consider that her happiness is worth more than your selfishness. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to apologize to Brittany for last night." He's gone a moment later, moving to greet Brittany, who's just descended the stairs, and leaving Santana alone at the bar with her bitter thoughts.
Is she selfish? Is Kurt right? She already knows she's scared to lose Brittany- either by death or by freedom, either scenario lets her never see Brittany again. But which is a solution she can live with?
Angry and needing to release some tension, she turns from the bar to look for Dani or Elaine, instead finding Brittany sitting at a table with Kurt and Sugar. Their eyes meet; a brief memory of last night flashes over her, and her pulse pounds between her legs. She sucks in a breath at the powerful feeling just as warm hands slide around her waist. She jumps at the feeling but relaxes the moment she recognizes Dani's scent. She turns in the woman's arms. "Go upstairs with me?"
Dani smiles. "Absolutely, darlin'."
Brittany subtly watches Santana lead Dani upstairs, the sinking feeling she'd felt last night returning to her stomach at the sight. She'd managed to find sleep, but she'd been plagued by unpleasant dreams and awoke, much too early, to a feeling she'd never quite felt before- it was a feeling of sadness, of loss, and it still lingered over her despite her enjoyable company.
"…Leaving you alone last night," Kurt apologizes again, bringing her attention back to the people in front of her- Kurt and Sugar. "Although it seems you had fun without me…" At her questioning expression, he points to a specific spot on his neck, and she mimics the touch on her own, remembering Rachel's mouth on her the previous night, and the burning anger it caused in Santana. The memory makes her swallow.
"I managed to keep myself entertained," she admits, her mouth feeling dry, her stomach clenching as she remembers how unwanted she felt, and still feels.
"As did I," Sugar says mischievously.
Brittany forces a smile, genuinely happy for her dear friend, but unable to feel happy. "Did you find yourself a strumpet as well?"
Sugar laughs, and offers a playful smile. "No; Jake managed to keep me more than entertained."
Kurt nearly spits out his glass of juice. "Jake?"
"Yes, Jake," Sugar repeats. "We went to the roof- it's delightful up there, Britt, you really should go, there's so many flowers-"
"You gave yourself to Jake?" Brittany gasps, stunned. "After such a short time?"
"Don't look so shocked, Britt," Sugar huffs, slightly offended. "Jake is hardly my first, nor will he be my last."
"Wait, you weren't…?"
"I've played with many visiting royals during my time as your handmaiden," Sugar admits, and Brittany's mouth falls open in disbelief at the scandalous news. "It's nothing to get worked up over. Jake and I are both adults, and why shouldn't we find pleasure in each other?"
"You're absolutely right, Sugar," Kurt agrees, patting her hand, and the two continue to talk but Brittany's lost in her thoughts. She stares at Sugar- sweet, innocent Sugar- and wonders how such a woman could commit such an act with someone else and brush it off as insignificant? Is she the only one who values such a thing, or has Sugar truly embraced the pirate lifestyle? She knows that Santana clearly doesn't regard sex as holding any meaning, evidenced by the fact that she's upstairs, yet again, with a whore.
The thought sours Brittany's already sour mood. "How much longer must we be here?"
Sugar frowns, for Brittany had interrupted her and Kurt's conversation, which is unlike her polite and considerate friend. "Are you not enjoying yourself?"
Before she can think on her words, Brittany admits, "I would enjoy myself more if Santana acknowledged my presence."
Kurt bites his lip, recalling his earlier conversation with the pirate woman, and of the confusion she faces over a decision he does not agree with. "I would distance myself from Santana," he advises, knowing it is in Brittany's best interest to allow Santana the space she needs to sort out her feelings.
"Kurt," Brittany starts, tilting her head in curiosity. Something about the way he told her to stay away piques her interest, and suddenly she wonders if there is more to Santana resisting her than just plain disinterest- at least, her heart hopes there is more. Kurt's been hesitant to talk about Santana for a while, which is a clear indication that he's withholding information. "Has something happened?"
He knows telling her is the wrong thing- she will not take it well. But he also knows that, should the decision be made unfavorably, finding out at the last minute would hurt worse, be a deeper betrayal, and he cannot bear the thought of Brittany believing he conspired against her. So with a deep breath and a feeling of heaviness pressing on his chest, he confesses, "She wishes for you to remain here."
"Remain here?"
Confusion. Kurt expected that. "Yes, to earn wage under Master Beiste."
"A harlot?"
"What?" Sugar demands, shaken.
Kurt swallows as confusion turns to anger, and Brittany rises to her feet, her voice growing more furious with every word.
"Earn wage, Kurt? As a harlot?" She slaps her palm on the table to emphasize, making Kurt jump. He's never seen her so angry, and a glance spared to the bar reveals her emotional display has drawn the attention of several other patrons.
"Calm yourself, Britt," he says gently. "The exchange may yet not happen-"
"But Santana would see it to fruition if she had her way?" Brittany demands, leaning over the table, towering over him, and for the first time, Kurt regards Brittany not as a helpless slave, but as a capable pirate, a force to be reckoned with, part of the ship, part of the crew. It reminds him that he's not wrong to assume that Brittany could belong with them, be one of them, if only given the chance-
At his nod, Brittany straightens her posture, and just like that, the flash of fierceness is gone, and she stands, obvious hurt gracing her features. "Why?" she whispers, shaking her head. Perhaps disinterest was too kind a word- perhaps hatred might've been more accurate-
"Oh, Britt- I- I don't know. You'd have to ask her-"
Brittany's expression changes from hurt to determination in a matter of seconds, and Kurt sees the resolve flash in her eyes as she snaps, "I'll see to it that I do." She turns from the table.
"Britt-" Sugar calls, but Brittany's already flying up the stairs. Kurt rests his chin between his hands and hopes for the best.
"Enter," Santana commands from within, and with a deep breath, Brittany steels herself and opens the door. She's greeted with the sight of Santana lying on a chaise lounge on her stomach, naked, with Elaine straddling her, massaging her right calf. Brittany's quartermaster is propped up on her elbows, her long, dark hair spilling over her shoulders. In her left hand is a thin cigar, and when Brittany steps into the room, she smirks.
"What can I do for you, Songbird?" She purrs, her voice smoky from the cigar.
"I wanted to talk about last night," Brittany says, the strength in her voice belying how she feels inside.
Santana raises an eyebrow in curiosity. She regards her for a moment, and Brittany does her best to seem confident for what seems like a short lifetime. Finally, Santana climbs to her feet, shooing Elaine out with a dismissive wave of her hand. Brittany is proud for not faltering at the sight of Santana's naked body- after all, she's seen it several times already (though that doesn't make the sight of it any less glorious or breathtaking.) So far, the situation has played out exactly how Brittany had hoped, and as Santana stretches before her, her lithe, toned body on full display, she reminds herself to be strong, like a pirate- to do what she must without backing down.
Santana bends to reach for her pants and casually begins to step into them, husking, "So talk."
"I wanted to apologize," Brittany starts, cautious with her words. Santana pauses in redressing to cast her a questioning look as she continues. "I shouldn't have placed you in such a position last night- I was not aware of your elevated level of disinterest in me."
Utterly confused, Santana hesitates, unsure how to respond. "Disinterest? That's what you think?"
"What am I to think, Quartermaster?" Brittany struggles to stay emotionless, to not give anything away. "It's true you have every intention to leave me here, to earn wage as a whore?"
Santana clenches her jaw, unhappy with the direction of this conversation, unhappy with the fact that Kurt told Brittany sensitive details. She won't show weakness, however, no matter how she struggles over the decision. "Yes. That's right."
"And no thoughts to my wishes or feelings?"
"You are a slave," Santana snaps. "You have no wishes or feelings in the matter."
Ignoring the sting, Brittany continues, "Then what of Kurt? I assume he was in support of this plan?"
Santana shrugs casually. "No. But it is no longer for him to decide-"
"I belong to him," Brittany seethes. "I am his property."
"You belong to me," Santana hisses, moving forward, invading Brittany's space. "Have you forgotten so soon?"
"And you care nothing for me, nor my wishes-"
"Do not presume to know what I do and do not care for," Santana snarls, low and deadly. "You have no idea what went into this decision-"
"I only know that it did not include my well-being!" Brittany snaps, her hands balling into fists at her sides in an attempt to redirect some of the rising anger she feels.
"You want me to consider your wishes," Santana sneers. "And what do you wish, Princess? Do you wish to die on a mission you are ill-prepared for? Or do you wish for David, for Kurt, or Mike or Matt to risk their lives carrying you until they are slaughtered?"
Brittany falters, the possibilities Santana brought to light bombarding her conscience. She hasn't contemplated those futures- the futures where the men she considers her friends end up dead. She recalls the sinking of the Courage, the fate of Captain Anderson in Tina's servitude, the unknown fate of Sam, the death of Finn and every other sailor who'd died simply because they'd been involved with her escape, and the weight settles heavily on her. All those deaths, and for what? She still hasn't discovered what she truly wants. She thought she belonged with the pirates, but she never considered the scenario Santana has harshly predicted. She shakes her head slowly, the pressure, the guilt on her chest making it hard to breathe. "I-"
"You." Santana starts, her tone severe and accusing, "have not given thought to the consequences, to the weight of what happens should you stay. You only care to see what's in front of you, and I have an entire ship to care for- not just you. So, I'll ask you once more, since you demand it, though I doubt you've truly pondered my words- what are your wishes, Songbird?"
Brittany listens, but all she hears is not just you. Not just you. The words break through the fog of guilt that's taken control of her mind- could it be that Santana cares for her? Could it be that she was wrong- that Kurt was wrong- and that Santana's cold behavior stems from concern? Could it be that she is misunderstood as a ruthless pirate, but she's not? Brittany's mind races at the possibility, as everything falls into place in her mind.
"Do you care for me?"
Taken completely off guard and angry that Brittany ignored the entire point of her argument, Santana snaps, "Of course I care for you! If something were to happen to you, Brittany-" She stops, unable to finish, unable to speak her thoughts into words.
The sound of her true name instead of Songbird is the final evidence. Brittany watches the way Santana's throat moves as she swallows, watches the way her dark brown eyes look away, and she knows, in that moment, that Santana truly cares for her- desires her, even- and, overwhelmed, she cannot stop herself as she lunges forward, pressing her lips to the pirate's. The kiss is slow, hesitant at first, but quickly turns fierce when Santana locks arms around her, crushing her against her supple frame. She tilts her head into the kiss, lips parting, a low moan rising up the back of her throat as hands grab her ass tightly. Brittany's heart pounds as they stumble back, as Santana guides her to the chaise lounge, her tongue waging desperate war with Brittany's.
When the back of her legs hit the piece of furniture, Brittany sucks in a breath, her mind blanking, her pulse racing, and before she can process what's happening, she's on her back with Santana over her, their mouths never parting. She wants Santana so badly that it aches, her unsatisfied desire spiking her arousal twice as fast as usual, but this isn't how she pictured them being together; still, the fact that Santana is sucking her bottom lip, her hips canting down into her, her left hand cupping her jaw, is more than she ever believed she'd receive. Clumsily, she reaches for Santana's waist, arching her hips up, hungry, desperate for friction.
At Brittany's touch, Santana breaks the kiss and rests her forehead against the blonde's to catch her breath, leaving Brittany in a trembling, panting heap beneath her as she slows her racing heart.
"Have I not done as you've asked of me?" Brittany breathes, her senses overloaded, her inner thighs sticky with her arousal.
"Yes- but I would ask more," Santana rasps, squeezing her eyes shut.
"What do you want of me?" Brittany asks, so softly Santana's not completely certain she didn't imagine it.
Santana pushes herself up and off Brittany, her body screaming at her in protest. She gazes down at the helpless girl; squirming on the chaise lounge, eyes dark with arousal, chest heaving, Brittany locks eyes with her, and the intensity sends a thrill up her spine. Swallowing the lump in her throat, it finally dawns on her- the answer to the girl's question. What does she want of Brittany? It comes in a soft, breathless voice-
"Everything."
She regards Brittany for another moment before she quietly slips away and out of the room, leaving Brittany with her racing heart and thoughts.
Santana hugs the fur-lined cloak she'd retrieved from her trunk on the ship tighter around herself, protecting herself from the chilly night air. She's opted to spend her last night in port not at the Beiste, much to Dani and Elaine's disappointment; the establishment has lost some of its appeal, and instead, she's brought herself to a smaller, relatively unknown tavern down the street. It's quieter, more peaceful, and Santana relishes the time she has to clear her head and be alone to sift through the tangles of her emotions, which she does on a roof deck overlooking the ocean. The sound of waves crashing on the sand soothes her, and she allows her mind to float away, lost in thoughts of a different life, a calmer life, where constant danger didn't ruin the possibility of companionship.
"I dunno why you're here and not warming your face between some wench's thighs- but then again, I do."
Santana takes comfort in the sound of David's voice, and the familiar thump of his heavy footsteps, drawing nearer. She doesn't answer him, but he's been around her long enough to know that the silence is an invitation. He moves to her side, resting his forearms on the guard rail at the edge of the deck.
After a moment of peaceful silence, she glances at him. "Did Kurt finally wise up and dump your sorry ass?"
David laughs. "Will he ever be that smart?" Santana returns the grin, and he shrugs. "Naw, he just gets tired of the boisterous atmosphere of the Beiste, is all. We usually hole up here. You're just always too deep in pussy to notice."
Santana chuckles nervously, feeling the beginnings of a blush creep onto her cheeks. She wishes she could argue, but she knows David is right- it's the first time she's seen herself as Brittany probably does: a thirsty savage, and for reasons unknown, the thought embarrasses her. Even David has companionship in Kurt, loyalty in Kurt. What does she have? She swallows and admits, "I suppose I've been unobservant of many things."
"And I suppose I already know what gave you the morbs," David challenges, poking her in the shoulder, "but what suppose I didn't?"
Santana raises an eyebrow, warning him not to be an idiot, but at his arrogant smirk, she relents with a sigh. David is a stubborn fool, and she knows she won't escape confessing what's been eating at her. "Brittany demands to have a say in her fate."
David nods in agreement. "Can't say that I entirely blame her, either."
"Nor can I. It's not the demands that worry me- it's the options." Santana pulls her hand through her hair in frustration. She's been struggling not to think of her problem regarding Brittany's future, but even at an entirely different tavern, the girl plagues her. She can't escape the memory of the taste of her, the sound of her moans, of her hands grabbing at her hips-
"Here not'n option no more?"
"Beiste won't take her, not with a price on her," Santana sulks, shaking her head.
"Cursed luck," David admits. He sneaks a look at Santana out of the corner of his eye, knowing full well that his friend and quartermaster is not-so-secretly relieved that Brittany can't stay at the Beiste. "'N I guess initiating her is out of the question?"
Santana frowns, the fear she'd felt from the thought of losing Brittany, the memory of her, pale and cold, body prone on the deck as Santana breathed life into her frigid lips, resurfacing and sending a shiver through her. "You saw how helpless she was."
"Helpless, eh?" David challenges. At Santana's nod, he shakes his head. "We were all helpless once, San- not a single one 'a us knew what in fuckin' Hades we were gettin' into. We all started off lost, weak, untrained, and we took a lotta kicks in the ass before we figured shit out." He pauses, thoughtful. "She certainly doesn't lack the spirit."
Santana buries her face in her hands, groaning, "But if something were to happen to her-"
"It will. That's why she's gotta be prepared. We can't just dump her out there like we've been- she's gotta be trained."
"And who's to train her?" She demands, knowing she's not up to the task- she'd be far too distracted-
David slaps his hand against his chest, and Santana, taken aback by his willingness to volunteer for what will surely be a difficult, patience-testing task, manages a shocked, "Seriously?"
"Well with all the mags organized, I certainly have a lot more free time on my hands."
"You?" she clarifies again, disbelief still written on her face.
"Unless you think I'm inadequate?" he gruffs, squaring his shoulders threateningly.
Touched, but still doubtful, Santana shakes her head. "No; I just… why? You've never been particularly fond of the girl."
He shrugs. "She grew on me… and it's important to you, whether you like to admit it or not. You truly care about her, and I respect that."
Still not convinced, Santana raises a skeptical eyebrow at him and waits expectantly for him to either elaborate or admit his true motives.
Once he realizes he's not off the hook, David laughs. "All right… and maybe I have to try and make Kurt happy. He's been complaining to me for days, y'know. Asked me to talk to you- I dunno why he thinks you fuckin' listen to me."
Santana cracks a smile. "That makes much more sense." She takes a heavy breath, finally feeling the weight on her shoulders lift now that she's decided. "Fine. I'll let her decide between two futures- and if she decides in favor of remaining with us, I'll let her do so only under your guidance… are you sure about this?"
David grins. "Oh, I can't wait to knock her onto that perfectly rounded ass of hers."
She glares playfully. "She might decide for leaving just on that threat alone." They both laugh for a moment before Santana smiles at her friend and confidante. She places her hand on his shoulder and squeezes. "Kurt may be wrong- I may not listen to you, but I still appreciate your counsel… thank you."
"You want to tell him?"
Santana nods, feeling more and more at ease with each passing second now that the weight of her decision is gone. She gazes out at the dark waves, allowing herself a fast moment to imagine how Kurt will take the news; then, she spends a lot longer imagining the way Brittany will react. She gets lost picturing her smile, the adoring look in her blue eyes, the possibility of a kiss, maybe- she sighs as she remembers the way her mouth tasted-
"…or I mean, I can tell him if you want," David chuckles. "Since you seem to be far too busy thinking about other things-"
"Shut your cake-hole, you flat lush," Santana growls, embarrassed that she was caught day-dreaming. "I'll tell him once we get underway."
"Leave him worried," David nods with a devious grin. "I like it!"
"You're a horrible boyfriend."
I seriously debated leaving this chapter on a cliffhanger! XD
But since damn near every chapter so far has been a cliffhanger, I decided to save the sea-faring action for the next chapter, coming to you in 3 years this time! LOLOLOL just kidding- I hope. ;_;
Anyways, thank you for still reading! I do not plan to abandon this story, so as long as y'all are email subscribed, you will get updates for this bitch someday. Drop me a line if you want to say hi! I've missed all of you lovelies and though I know you've moved on to other ships, I hope you're all doing well. :)
See you soon! :D