A/N: Hello, darlings. :) Hope you're all doing okay, because 2020 is wild, man. Just like this chapter.
Thanks to everyone who's still reading, and for those of you saying hey in the reviews! I miss you guys ;O;
As usual, this story is still M Rated. Hope you enjoy the chapter! :D
Santana had gotten really comfortable with not thinking about the map they'd almost died obtaining from Lao, or Puck's moronic quest for what he was still calling, The Big One. She'd gotten so comfortable, in fact, that when Puck called his officers together to discuss the next step in his plan, her mood immediately shifted from slightly irritated to severely irritated in record time.
Puck had been growing antsy, that much she knew. So much down time training, celebrating victories, and getting much-needed rest always made him more petulant than usual- the opposite effect of what it should have done. So as she enters the meeting room, finding her usual seat at his right and noticing the godforsaken map spread out on the giant table, she knows that he's probably been stewing for a while- a fact that reveals itself to be true once he starts talking, though, as is the usual case at these sorts of meetings, she tunes most of it out. She settles down into her usual position at the table, feet propped up comfortably on a nearby chair, scrap of wood and her small carving knife in her hands to keep her from falling asleep.
"We can't read the damn thing," Puck starts, throwing his hand at the map in frustration, which seems to almost taunt him from its spot on the chart table. "It's written in fucking gibberish."
"I thought it was a map," David speaks slowly. "Why do we need to read it? It's a fuckin' picture."
Santana smiles to herself at David's words, not looking up from her carving. He has a point.
"From what I can determine, it's got very thorough and specific instructions written on it," Arty explains, scratching his nose and pointing out the unfamiliar scribbles all over the edges of the map. "The picture of the location is only part of it, and is of little value without the directions. But to further complicate matters, I can't even decipher what the picture is- it doesn't match any of the maps I've pored over, and is, surprisingly, unfamiliar to me."
"What?" Matt blurts, shocked- his faith in Arty's navigational skills is absolute. "How can that be?" Santana processes the conversation in the back of her mind, trying to determine what the hell is going on. How can they have a map that can't be read? Did Puck know before they stole it that it would be this difficult?
A quick glance at his frustrated face confirms that he couldn't have known, which makes Santana, once again, question the reliability of his sources. She knows what's coming next- but the sound of Puck's voice confirming it does not help her already sour mood.
"Arty don't recognize it 'cause it's a hidden location. That's why we need to find a translator- someone who'll know, from the language written on the map, what the location is. Someone who can decipher the directions that will guide us there."
"Seems easy enough," Mike starts thoughtfully, but Santana already feels herself growing anxious at the roundabout way Puck has carried the conversation. "I guess we can-"
"What's the language?" Santana demands, cutting right to the chase. Puck shoots her an irritated look that she ignores, mostly because she's not paying attention to him, which conveys that he'd been hoping to delay answering that question for a while longer. Reluctantly, he forces a smile.
"Dlobrohin."
The group falls silent; all at once, Santana feels the energy in the room plummet, overcome with dread as the crew absorbs their Captain's words. She sets down her carving, suddenly very aware of the turn the conversation has taken, at the dead air in the room, and finally stares hard at Puck. She knew it was going to be bad, but-
"Impossible." David breaks the uncomfortable silence with his low rumble of disbelief, shaking his head slowly.
"That language is dead," Matt mutters in agreement, stroking the small patch of hair on his chin, looking troubled. "It has been- for a while." The tension in the room continues to grow; Santana feels herself on edge, her hair not quite standing on end, but close. She knows that there has to be more to this sudden development in the plan, something Puck isn't telling them... something she will have to discover at a later, more private, time. Dlobrohin isn't just some random language found on maps, after all. It has history- and a reason why it's dead.
"We have to try," Puck says at last, his determination evident despite the fact that all hope has drained from his audience. Ignoring the intense negative energy, he smiles brightly at them. "Which is why we're heading to Perdic at daybreak tomorrow."
"So, idiot- ya wanna tell me what the fuck happened?" David starts casually, taking a long drink from his glass, then draining it, and trying to get a fast start into what he's sure is going to be a long night coaxing Santana to confess what's giving her the morbs. When she doesn't answer, he sighs. A very long night, then. He reaches for the bottle of whiskey on the bar before him to pour himself another glass, glancing at Santana's still untouched cup. He taps the rim of her glass with the bottleneck pointedly, rolling his eyes as Santana groans and ignores him, her face buried dramatically in her arms on the bar top. He didn't know how he knew that something was wrong, but he could practically feel his best friend's stormy mood earlier at the officer meeting, even before their Captain had dropped wretched news on them. Once they'd been released, he'd demanded she meet him at the dark, secluded section of the castle where the pirates stored all their spirits- it was fully stocked with bottles of every liquor and wine they'd managed to acquire over the course of their pirating, and he knew through experience that it was the perfect- and only- atmosphere to get her to disclose whatever had happened. So, playing bartender on the other side of the heavy oak counter, and not taking any of Santana's shit, he pushes her glass closer, encouraging her to drink more and save them both some time and struggle.
"I know," she whines, lifting her head a little. She reaches halfheartedly for her glass, taking a slow, miserable sip. "I fucked up bad. But I can't be with her, Dave- I- I don't know how."
It takes him a second to realize that Santana's talking more to herself than to him, but once he pieces together what she's saying, he stares at her incredulously, surprised that she admitted her problem without downing an entire bottle of whiskey. He eyes her suspiciously- is she already drunk? Obviously something happened between her and Brittany- but then he processes the last part of her statement. "Y'don't fuckin' know how? Just what in the hell happened?"
Swallowing thickly, Santana takes another comforting sip, then sighs, rubbing her hand over her face. "I planned this whole dinner with Britt-"
"-well, that sounds lovely, what'd ya fuck up?"
Santana shrugs, examining her still mostly-full whiskey glass. "I think I tried to move too fast."
"So she doesn't want to fuck you," he nods, understanding.
"No- she does. She just-" Santana shakes her head slowly. "She wants us to have a relationship..."
"Right. And you don't fuckin' know how to do that." He shakes his head, disbelieving.
"I don't!"
"Whale shit. What exactly do ya think bein' with someone is like?"
She opens her mouth to answer, but then closes it, hesitating. She'd never thought about it, because she honestly had no idea what it's like- she'd only ever assumed it would be bad. A loss of freedom, maybe, or a loss of self. And something she was experiencing already, far too often- a crippling fear.
David waits for her to respond, or at the very least, figure something out, so she reluctantly admits, "I don't know, I just- I never thought about it. Every time I try, I- I feel so terrified."
"You?"
She shrugs, all of her usual posturing gone, and for the first time, David sees how vulnerable and confused she is, how deep and serious her feelings are. He frowns in sympathy. Maybe she really doesn't know. "Listen, San," he starts, gazing at her sad, miserable face. "I can't tell you what being with Brittany'd be like for you, because I'm not a fuckin' woman- thank the gods. But I can tell you that based on what I seen, you two'd just finally get your heads out of your asses and spend more time together, do things together, and obviously, fuck like dolphins. Not a whole lotta change, there, except- well, I don't think you'd be able to visit those whores at the Beiste no more."
At Santana's aggravated sigh, he amends, "Well, maybe y'could, ya just gotta work that out with Britt-"
"No, that's not..." Santana takes a deep, calming breath to control her rising frustration. "I'm just- I'm scared, Dave. I'm scared of getting hurt. I've never-" she pauses, her emotions making it hard to speak. "I've never cared for anyone so much, not the way I care for her. I'm scared I'll fuck it up and lose her, because I have no idea what I'm doing. And then what? If I lost her- that would destroy me."
He shrugs helplessly. "You already did that, idiot."
Santana frowns; her pain would normally transform into anger from the fact that she opened up to David and he made fun of her, but she doesn't even have the energy to be angry, instead just sounding dejected. "Thanks."
He sighs, reaching up to rub his temples. She's in even worse shape than he thought. "What I mean is- you already fucked it up, like you said. You already lost her, and you ain't destroyed. So the worst is over, right? Now you just go get her back."
"If only it was that easy," she mumbles, swirling her glass of whiskey and watching the liquid spin.
"It is," he says firmly with a nod. "If you can't see the way she's fuckin' crazy 'bout you, I don't think you're really lookin' at her."
Santana feels her heartbeat spike at his words. Is Brittany really crazy about her? Still, despite everything? She must be, if David noticed, and mentioned it as a current event. Maybe Santana is just assuming Brittany's ill feelings, after all. Maybe the woman actually still cares for her, and she could have another chance, though she probably doesn't deserve it. The thought gives her some hope, and makes her smile a little, but she's still not fully convinced. "I guess I'm just dense."
"You're pretty fuckin' dense," David agrees.
They sit in comfortable silence for a moment, drinking together, and then Santana asks softly, "Do you fear for him? For Kurt? Whenever we sail into danger?"
"Every time," he says quietly, gazing down at his glass. "He don't fight, but he's still there, on the ship, if it goes down. I worry every time we engage another ship- or sea nasty," he chuckles.
Santana stares at his face, her stomach sinking at the thought that the fear never goes away. "How do you handle it without going crazy?"
"By enjoying the time we have," he tells her firmly. He catches her eyes. "By not wastin' any of it worryin'. And by fightin' my hardest to ensure we get another day together."
Santana processes his words, unsure why anyone would put themselves through that, especially on a continual basis. She's gone through it enough just in the short amount of time she's known Brittany, and she's ready to not ever feel that way again. How could anything be worth constant worry, constant fear? "Wouldn't it be easier to just... not?"
"Yep," he nods. "Lonelier, too. But maybe that's what you're into." She stares down at her glass, feeling the weight of her loneliness on her. She misses Brittany desperately- not just her lips, or her taste, but the way she laughs, the blue of her eyes, the light of her smile directed towards her. She hates the feeling that's overtaken her, as if she's been damaged, ruined- as if she can never feel truly happy or whole again, without Brittany. As if she will always have an emptiness, a loneliness, inside her now, for as long as Brittany and her are apart.
David studies her for a moment, studies the woman, once a larger-than-life womanizer, who has now been reduced to a sorry pile of self-pity, and his eyes harden. It's time for the tough love. "Listen," he says again, roughly, placing his palm sturdily on the table in front of her in an attempt to snap her out of her funk. "You care 'bout her, right? Even though you're not in a relationship with her?"
Santana sighs. "Of course I do."
"And how's that workin' out for you, San?" He demands harshly. "Has your life gotten easier, do you worry about her less, now that you're not speakin'- not fuckin'? Are you less scared?"
Santana opens her mouth to reply, but closes it as she realizes-
No. She isn't. She's still just as scared, but without the comfort of Brittany's company. So what is she really accomplishing by refusing Brittany? Perhaps she is sparing herself from falling deeper, from becoming so lost and entangled in another person that she ceases to exist, but none of the pairings she's known have ever demonstrated such an example, except- no. She recalls how, not long ago, she'd told Brittany that she wanted everything of her, and unknowingly, she'd received it- even the parts she didn't actually want: the fear, the worry. But yet, her ceasing to allow herself to grow closer to Brittany- to be with her, to commit to her- is accomplishing nothing, sparing her nothing.
She's such a fool.
As she agonizes over her feelings, David finishes his glass, setting his cup in a small wash basin behind the counter. He knows he's given his friend enough to think about for the night, and that she needs time to process his words and her own emotions- he'd been through this routine often enough. But mostly, all the talk of Kurt made him miss his companion.
"Y'gotta figure out if it's worth it," he says finally. "Or y'gotta stop being vazey and figure out how to shut that shit off." He reaches across the bar and touches her shoulder, offering comfort and strength. "I'll see ya."
Santana offers him a tiny nod in thanks, but barely registers him leaving, so caught up in her thoughts and emotions. Has she been blind this whole time? But if she commits to Brittany, then what? She's never committed before, but she knows there will have to be changes- is she prepared to make them all? What even are they? She mentally tries to make a list of things she would want her to do if she were Brittany- a good place to start to see if this whole relationship thing is even achievable.
First, she'll have to give up Dani and Elaine- as David said- and all the other girls she visits in various ports. She's fine with that; after all, they don't ignite her nearly as powerfully as Brittany does, so she's not giving up much. An easy choice, though it will be a weird conversation to have with the girls, and she's definitely not ready for the inevitable teasing of Ira Del Diablo becoming suddenly domesticated, tamed. She grits her teeth as she imagines it. Maybe that won't be so easy, after all.
Second, she will have to be a better friend to Brittany... which she thinks she can manage. She was doing pretty well there for a while. Except- she doesn't just want to be Brittany's friend, she wants to fuck the soul from her body. Somehow, she doesn't think that's a very good virtue of friendship. Brittany told her she wanted to spend time- and, she realizes (after her last attempt to "spend time" with Brittany) that doesn't mean spend time dry-humping each other.
She has no idea what else she will have to do, new to the whole concept of courting, dating, and relationships. The process overwhelms and intimidates her. Does she have to get permission from someone? Does she have to shower Brittany with gifts for a predetermined amount of time? She squeezes her eyes shut in frustration, trying to recall Kurt's words from so long ago, when she faced a very similar problem that unfortunately has only grown more complicated.
Take her out, on a date, proper.
She groans. A date... she fucked that up already. But maybe she could try again. She knows a nice spot in Perdic-
And that's when she begins to make plans.
Early the very next morning, with the provisions needed for their short journey gathered and loaded, Santana and the rest of the crew set sail to their destination. She's somewhat grateful for the trip, if only to give her something to do besides mope over Brittany- and to give her an opportunity to act on her revelations from last night, now that attempting to try to spend time with her seems much more appealing.
From her spot on the forecastle, she revels in the smell and feel of the ocean as the Sea Guillotine cuts through the waves, letting it calm her. Puck may be the dumbest man alive, but at least she can enjoy this. Smaller and faster than the Tide Ripper, it's far more suited to their purpose, and they make excellent time to the trade hub island of Perdic. It's also less conspicuous- they have to remember that Lao and Lycas are both still searching for them, as evidenced by the many Wanted fliers they notice posted along the streets when they arrive.
David whistles when he pauses in his task of mooring the ship to read one plastered to a light pole on the docks. "God damn- seventy thousand gold pieces? I might turn us in myself."
The sun is already setting by the time they get the ship situated, and Puck heads straight for the nearest inn, which is his usual routine. As the rest of the crew- except for Matt, whose job is to stay behind and guard the ship- depart, Santana watches longingly as Brittany heads into town with Kurt and David, following in the wake of their Captain. She drags her feet during her mooring checks, reluctant to be near Brittany and be reminded of their current ill standing, but also dying to be near Brittany, two very opposing feelings that war within her for victory. Slowly making her rounds, she ponders her body's involuntary responses to the woman, sifting through her thoughts from the previous night. She's not scared of her, but she knows she's scared of what Brittany represents- commitment. And digging deeper through her emotions, she knows she's scared of losing Brittany, either through her own fault or through circumstances beyond her control. She shakes her head- since when did she have such fears of abandonment?
The answer comes to her as she double-checks the forward mooring lines: since she lost both her parents.
She pauses, gazing out over the side of the ship and into the dimly-lit town. She can just barely see the courtyard bar of the inn, where her crew is already drinking and laughing. She can clearly spot Brittany (she'd have to be a fool not to notice her incredible beauty) and her heart aches in a recently-familiar way as she recalls the words Brittany spoke to her the last time they were together.
"I thought you wanted an equal, someone to stand by your side..."
Santana watches her, the center of attention in the courtyard. Mike, Kurt, David, Sugar, Jake- even Puck and Arty- all of them gather around her, laughing, enamored. So changed is the girl who started as a slave to the pirates- physically and mentally- that Santana simultaneously marvels at and recoils from the transformation. Brittany has grown stronger every day, risen to every challenge, eased every doubt and earned everyone's complete trust. She is well-loved, well-liked, and she brings light and joy, surrounded by friends that would lay their life down to protect her. Santana's heart sinks at the weight of her realization.
Doesn't Brittany know that Santana could never hope to be her equal?
She knows that if she were at the bar, Brittany would not be nearly as relaxed, her laughter flowing not nearly as carefree. It's true that Brittany's charm and smile had won all of them over, but Santana's the only one who fucked it up. She wishes they could go back to before, to the very beginning, even, when she first stole her away from that damned Lycan ship- but she knows that they cannot. She'd tried so hard to pretend she had any control over her feelings, tried to subdue them for months- by ignoring, by ridding herself of Brittany, and finally, by giving in... but nothing had weakened her desire. She'd hoped they were fleeting, that they would pass, but no matter how many times she'd tried to deny them, to put whatever she shared with Brittany down and walk away from it, she couldn't.
Her feelings are real.
She sighs. She's known she has feelings for Brittany for a while, but was unable to accept them. And now, accepting her feelings is easy compared to what she must do with them. Her feelings aren't going away, and she cannot deny them. She must finally act- but she still has no clue how to proceed. Suppose she takes Brittany on a date- then what? Will they be in a relationship? She shakes her head- she still doesn't know what that even means.
But if she doesn't know, then how can she attempt to be in one? Especially with someone who was a princess before she became a slave- and then single-handedly earned her freedom? What does a woman like that see in someone like her, anyway? And if Santana puts herself in such a vulnerable position- if she allows Brittany in- how would she survive if Brittany destroyed her by leaving, or worse, died? Their profession isn't exactly a safe and secure one... She knows Brittany can handle herself, but does she know Brittany would never leave her? Especially if she opens herself- if she shows Brittany her true self, all the things she's done, all the pain and suffering she's had to endure, all the people she's killed-
Her eyes narrow, her heartbeat accelerating with fear as she imagines sharing her dark past with Brittany, at the thought of being rejected. What does a pure, innocent princess know about sacrifice? About poverty? About what it was like for her to rise to where she is now: the quartermaster on one of the most notorious pirate ships ever to sail the Melosan sea? She's a proud, strong pirate, forged by the ocean- and Brittany's just- different. She would never accept her if she knew-
Santana bites her lip and reaffirms what she already knows to be true: she can't be with Brittany- not unless she wishes to be shattered beyond repair.
Saddened by her thoughts, and no longer able to prolong the mooring checks, she finally departs the ship, feeling her stomach tightening with nervousness as she approaches the inn where she and the rest of the crew will be staying for the duration of their port visit.
When she enters, David calls to her, smiling, and she smiles back before she notices that Kurt and Brittany are next to him at his table, laughing and talking animatedly. She hesitates. Brittany pauses in her conversation to glance in her direction, her eyes piercing and indifferent, and Santana freezes, her heart clenching, in response. Blue eyes rake over her form briefly before returning their gaze to Kurt, and Santana slinks away to the bar instead, trying to calm her racing pulse.
What is wrong with her? Why is she so nervous?
The bartender slides her a cup of dark rum at her request and she takes a long drink, surreptitiously listening to Brittany's beautiful laughter behind her. Despite knowing the reasons why she cannot be with Brittany, she wants her, all the same. Is she selfish? Is it even fair of her to try and command any of Brittany's time? Especially after the way she treated her? She chews her lower lip, wondering if she should give up ever trying to court the blonde pirate, wondering if maybe she's ruined it already, wondering if David's right and Brittany's still crazy about her, despite all her mistakes, wondering if she can handle being inevitably destroyed, wondering if she has to solve all these problems here and now-
She takes a deep breath.
She has to try. It's all she can do. Because David's right- it's not any easier without her.
Content with her decision to at least put forth some effort, she finishes her rum, not in the mood to get too scorched, and, willing her thoughts to calm, heads to her room for the night.
So deep in her decision-making, she doesn't notice that blue eyes follow her as she leaves.
The next morning, the pirate officers begrudgingly meet up outside the inn, and they split themselves into teams for efficiency. Santana is, as usual, with David, which she prefers- though as Brittany trudges away excitedly with Mike, she feels a little jealous. She brushes it off, focusing on her task at hand, and knowing that she will hopefully see Brittany later- if all goes according to plan and she doesn't lose her nerve.
Their first stop, before the mission that Puck had forced on them, is the bladesmith, at David's insistence.
"Britt still doesn't have her own weapons," he reminds her as they turn down the alley. "You want her to defend herself, right? Well then you've gotta arm 'er properly. And I'm sure givin' her a little gift won't hurt your chances, neither."
Santana knows David is right, and she doesn't argue when they reach the worn, quaint shop front. She'll feel much better knowing that Brittany is armed in the future, and she appreciates the guidance David is inadvertently giving her. David muscles the door- which sticks a little- open, and tiny bells ring from the movement to alert the shopkeeper of their presence. They are greeted by the sound of consistently timed, continuous hammering from somewhere beyond the dimly-lit, cramped store front they are standing in. The main counter is covered in different blades and weapons, all in various stages of crafting, and Santana studies them, scanning her eyes along the intricately-designed handles and gleaming, honed edges. David leads her around the counter and through a doorway to the left that's covered in a simple flap of aged leather; on the other side is a much more spacious room, and in the back, standing before the forge at the anvil with a hammer in hand, is the person they are searching for. Santana had never met their bladesmith, usually leaving their weapon acquisitions to David, who is far more knowledgeable in the field than she, but she is pleasantly surprised to find that the bladesmith is a woman, and her work is recognizably flawless.
"Jane," David calls as he approaches, and his voice prompts the thin, dark-skinned woman to snap her head up, pausing in her next blow. She studies him with a glare for a moment, her striking brown eyes narrowing into dark gems before she recognizes him and breaks into a wide grin.
"David, you motherfucker!" She exclaims, dropping the rod of metal on the anvil and moving in for a hug. She slaps him on the back, her thick, sheepskin gloves echoing loudly in the space. When she pulls back, she notices Santana, pushing her protective goggles up onto her head. "Who's your friend?"
"My best friend," David corrects teasingly as Jane slips her goggles and protective hat off, revealing a voluminous amount of black, curly hair. "She is in desperate need of your help."
"That so?" Jane laughs in disbelief, relaxing a little. She shakes her hair out, then sizes Santana up, her expression giving nothing away as she says, "Well, Best Friend, what can I assist you with?"
Put on the spot, Santana feels suddenly foolish as she tries to explain what she wants without actually knowing what she wants, while also trying to decide what Brittany would like, also without knowing what she would like. "I need a weapon- for a- well, for a girl. But she's not just a girl, she's strong. But still... Something small..." she makes a size with her hands, about the size of a knife, nodding. She knows nothing of Brittany's weapon preferences- she probably should've asked David before- but knives are versatile. "Yeah, personal..."
David and Jane exchange a knowing look as she rambles on, until Jane lifts her hand to stop her and save her from further embarrassment. "I think I get the picture, dove. I have just the thing in mind. Shouldn't take too long, either... maybe a day- if you're willing to pay, that is." She raises a challenging, playful eyebrow, flashing them a winning smile, and Santana wonders fleetingly if, in another life where she wasn't pining for Brittany, she would pursue Jane- the woman is obviously gorgeous.
"She's got whatever you need," David grins, putting both his hands on her shoulders in emphasis, and Santana only nods, feeling too embarrassed to really say anything other than thanks. "Oh- an' I brought this for the accents." He pulls out a thin stick of platinum leftover from their haul months back. "Know what it is?"
Jane nods, her eyes widening with surprise and pleasure. "Sure do. Where'd you lift this?"
David grins mischievously as he places the stick in her palm. "Lycan Fleet. Use it in the handle- the leftovers are yours."
Jane smiles widely, tightening her fist around the platinum. "You always know how to please me."
"Says no woman, ever."
Jane laughs freely, then turns to Santana, who's standing before her, lost in thought, her brows furrowed. "Let me show you some of my samples, dove- maybe you can decide on one and we can work together on a customization."
"That-" Santana starts, but her voice comes out scratchy, so she clears her throat and tries again. "That would be great."
Laughing, David follows as Jane leads Santana to a wall lined with various blades, hilts, knife handles, sheaths, and other things that can only be described as art. While Jane pulls different knives from the wall and hands them to Santana for inspection, he wonders if his best friend knows how absolutely whipped she is- but deep down, he knows that she doesn't.
After their visit with Jane, they meander over to the jeweler. With Brittany suddenly a viable option for participating in future missions, Santana needs to make sure she is insured, so to speak. She doesn't want to think about it, but she knows it's part of her job. Brittany had admired Santana's golden ear cuff in the past, so Santana at least knows what kind of earring she's looking for as she browses the selections with David, which makes her search a lot easier than the one at the bladesmith.
When she spots what she's looking for- almost a complete match for the one in her own ear- she smiles, imagining how it will look on Brittany, and then her thoughts drift elsewhere, to remembering the way her lips felt pressed beneath her ear to that spot on her neck, and the sound of the strangled moan that her lips always evoked. Instead of feeling hot and bothered, however, she feels a painful clench in her heart. She has to make things right with Brittany, if only to stop feeling like a kicked stingray.
She completes the purchase with the jeweler quickly, tucks the earring away in her belt pocket for later, and then they are finally ready to begin working on Puck's unwanted assignment- to discover someone who might know how to decipher the map they'd stolen from Lao. They have to be extremely careful, however- they don't want to make the mistake of revealing that they are Wanted, or that they are in possession of the highly valuable map.
"Dlobrohin," David mutters under his breath as they walk casually down the worn, dirt road through the center of the trading district. "Where do we even start?"
"Perhaps one of Goolsby's contacts here might know something," Santana suggests with a sly grin, trying to get a rise out of David. "Or your old pals, the Sea Bears."
"I'll let 'em know you're lookin' for 'em," David shoots back, somewhat relieved that at least Santana is feeling good enough to tease him. All the shopping for Brittany must've put her in a good mood. "But Goolsby's haunts might actually be worth a visit."
Brittany spends the morning with Mike, doing something she'd never imagined she'd get to do for herself- shopping. Arty had paid out her share of earned coin as she'd left the inn that morning, and she was surprised to discover she'd earned over a month's wage, and that it was tangibly in her possession to spend as she wished. Sugar had received the same amount, and she wasted no time rushing into town with Jake to splurge, leaving Brittany with Mike, who smiles encouragingly at her.
"So- where to first?"
She needn't give it much thought- she'd been dreaming of her first purchase for weeks, and every step reminded her that her boots were in dire need of replacement, so she lets Mike lead her to the local cobbler to get fitted with brand new, durable- yet soft- leather boots, lined with luxurious tanned seal hide on the inside. Or at least, that's what the shoe cobbler promises her. She doesn't care- she only knows that they're the most comfortable boots she's ever slid onto her feet, and that she can't wait to pick up her personal pair the following morning.
The next stop on her list is to get a new belt, preferably with a loop for her marlinespike, but once she's at the tailor, browsing the selection of random accessories, she finds one even better than she imagined, equipped with small, unimposing pouches and an attachment for a sword. She can't afford a sword- especially after her new boots- so she spends the last big chunk of her money on a new outfit and a few more undergarments- spares she was woefully short on. The apprentice in the tailor shop takes her measurements, and the tailor promises a turn-around time of only a day, since business is surprisingly slow. Brittany's not sure how long they will be ported, but Mike assures her they will be there for several days.
Elated at the idea of having clothes she purchased and picked herself, Brittany doesn't mind that she has spent most of her money before midday. When the sun reaches its peak in the sky, she spends almost the last of her sudden wealth on a refreshing drink for herself and Mike, which she insists on despite his protests, leaving her with only a handful of money left; but she knows that once she leaves Perdic she will have nowhere to spend her money, and besides- everything else that she could possibly need, that she didn't already purchase, is at home.
They sit at a table in a dark pub, protected from the merciless sun and enjoying their cooling drink- which has actual ice in it- casually discussing what their next move is. Mike had been surreptitiously questioning each of the shop owners they'd come across about something, and though Brittany was not privy to most of the details of their purpose on Perdic, she'd pieced together from the shreds of conversation she'd overheard that they were trying to track down someone who spoke a certain dialect of a language that had long since faded from public memory. Each of the shop owners had looked more nervous than the last about the subject when Mike questioned them- a detail that did not escape Brittany's observation- and had directed them to someone else, the latest in the line being a merchant who peddled supposedly "rare spices" in the alley behind the pub.
"Think we ought to pay Ryerson a visit?" Mike wonders as he finishes his drink, sucking on the final ice cube from the bottom of his cup. "Or is this gonna be another dead end?"
Brittany shrugs, feeling honored that she's included in his decisions, though she's still unsure as to their meaning. "I don't think we've reached a dead end, yet- just a lot of turns."
Mike laughs, smiling at her optimism. "Nicely put." He places his empty mug down on the table and rises. "Well, then, let's go track down this Ryerson fellow- they said he's in the alley, right?" He looks at Brittany, noticing suddenly that she's staring hard at a dark-skinned woman huddled at a table in a shadowed corner of the room. "What's up?" He mutters under his breath, trying not to draw attention to them.
"She looked over here when you mentioned Ryerson's name," Brittany says lowly. "I just- I have a feeling."
Mike glances casually over at the woman, sizing her up. She's got long, matted dreadlocks tucked under a knitted cap, and no telling how many layers of stained, torn shawls wrapped around her shoulders. She doesn't seem threatening, but Mike knows it's better to assume she's hostile than the opposite. "Okay, let's go."
"I think-," Brittany starts, barely above a whisper, "I think I should talk to her myself." She looks up at Mike. "You're intimidating."
"I am?" He asks, flabbergasted. He's not sure anyone's ever told him that, but he likes the idea of seeming intimidating, so he nods and sits back down, angling his chair slightly so that he can watch the table out of the corner of his eye. "Go then, I'll cover you."
As Mike settles back down into his chair, Brittany rises and slowly approaches the woman. She's hyper aware of the fact that she is completely unarmed, with no weapon to defend herself, but David had trained her well in hand-to-hand combat, and she feels somewhat confident in her abilities. Besides, she's not going to escalate anything- she just wants information, though she's not sure what she's supposed to be finding out.
"Hi," she greets softly as she moves closer. "Can I sit here?"
The woman peers up at her through dirty, cracked spectacles, her eyes wild, and studies Brittany for a moment, searching for threats. She takes in Brittany's harmless smile and demeanor and finally grunts in approval. Brittany slowly slides into the seat across from the woman, careful not to startle her; she gazes into her gaunt, skeletal face, and wonders when the woman last ate.
"You seemed interested in my conversation," Brittany starts, quiet and calming, as if talking to a frightened animal. "Do you know Sandro Ryerson, the merchant?"
The woman's dark eyes flicker with recognition, and she struggles to speak, her voice hoarse and cracking. Brittany signals Mike to bring something to drink, and he does quickly before backing away to give them space. Brittany offers the cup of ale to the woman, who, despite her obviously ravenous thirst, sips slowly, savoring the cool liquid on her dry, cracked lips. After a moment, she sighs.
"I know the man you seek," she rasps. "And the reason behind it."
"Reason?" Brittany asks, feigning ignorance, which isn't particularly hard, since she doesn't have a clear idea of what's going on. "We seek only rare spices."
The woman cackles for a moment before it transforms into a fit of dry coughing, and Brittany gently encourages her to drink more to ease her parched throat. "There are many, much more reputable places to procure your rare spices rather than from whom you seek."
Brittany bites her lip. Well, she's got her there.
"Ryerson is surrounded by the darkness of The Dead Gate."
"He is?" Brittany wonders, feeling a slight chill at the woman's words without knowing why. "How do you know?"
"My child, when you have been a part of these shadows as long as I have, you see things," she whispers mysteriously. "You know things. And I have seen many things..."
Brittany nods- that sounds like a pretty good explanation to her. "So, Ryerson is part of some Dead Gate?"
"Lower your voice, child," the woman hisses, her dark eyes darting around wildly. "You do not know of what you speak."
"Sorry," she mutters sheepishly, glancing around, as well, to ensure no one was eavesdropping. Her eyes catch Mike's, and she gestures him forward. He cautiously slips into the seat beside her, carrying a pitcher of ale, which he refills the woman's glass with. She takes another long drink.
"Bless you, child."
After a moment, Brittany asks, "Do you think you could help us?"
"We are searching for someone who reads Dlobrohin," Mike says, careful to keep his voice low.
The woman squints at them through her glasses, though Brittany wonders if she can even see through them, smudged and bent as they are. "I know of only one," she whispers, her voice like wind through dead, creaking trees.
"Where can we find him?"
The woman stares them down hard before she rasps, "On Sisyp- in the dungeons of Sue Sylvester."
"Why is that bad?" Brittany wonders, listening to the collective, hopeless groan from her crew once Mike had delivered the news. They had all met up again at the end of the day to share their findings, but none of them had discovered any new information- except for her and Mike.
Matt sighs. "As if this wasn't hopeless enough already..." He takes a long drink from his glass, relieved from his duty for the night by Jake, and using his limited time away from the ship to ensure he's drunk enough to forget the danger they will surely place themselves in should they continue their Captain's mission.
"Sue Sylvester is the Queen of the Underworld," Arty says, his face pale with dread. He stares hard at Puck across the table, who remains silent and pointedly not looking at any of them, lost in thought.
"The underworld? Like Hades?"
"Not the literal underworld, Songbird," Santana says gently, and Brittany smiles a little at her in gratitude. Sugar comes and sits beside Brittany, placing a cup of ale before her, which she immediately sips from. So automatic is her movement that she wonders in the back of her mind at how seamlessly she's fitting in now that she's a full part of the crew.
"No, the human underworld," David agrees, but his face is tight. "Though- she might just be the devil herself."
"Why is she so dangerous?"
"She's a notorious bounty hunter," Mike explains, his voice low and grave. "For pirates, specifically."
Brittany feels her stomach sink. "Oh, grand."
"But that's just her public identity," Arty continues. "She has a far worse one."
"'Cause she deals in slaves," David growls. "She's an opportunist- snatches poor kids, orphans, homeless, or anyone ravaged from the ongoing war down south- and sells 'em."
"To who?"
Santana stares hard at her. "To Lycas, Britt," she says softly, carefully.
Brittany gasps. "My father?"
"It's his war," Sugar chimes in. "Who do you think works in his platinum mines? Where did you think I came from?"
"I-" She starts, unable to even form a cohesive thought. She's never wondered where Sugar had come from, always just assuming she belonged there, with her. Shocked at her naivety, Brittany struggles to process the overwhelming amount of new information that's been suddenly dumped into her lap. She can't believe that her father- someone she surely didn't agree with most of the time but had tried to maintain a positive image of, despite everything- is involved in such deplorable business. Sure, she was angry at him for treating her as expendable, but he had never otherwise harmed her or done anything questionable...
"But he was working for- for King Schuester, wasn't he?" She swallows, knowing her brother is leading the warfront at her father's command, but that he certainly represents the Monarch, and that his decisions weren't entirely his own. Besides, that was months ago. Surely they had either won or lost the war by now?
"Oh, Britt," Sugar sighs, taking Brittany's hand to comfort her and bringing her focus back to the present conversation. "Schuester has been dead for years."
"Dead?"
"Aye," David agrees. "His kingdom was overtaken by his own corrupt court, the poor jollocks."
"So then who is the King of Lycas? Who appoints my father?"
"The Queen, Schuester's wife. Terri," Arty shrugs. "She probably had a hand in his death; she's always been quite power-hungry."
"How did I not know?" Brittany despairs. "Was I really so ignorant?"
"You had no need to know," Sugar soothes. "What would you have done?"
Brittany wants to shout back that she would've done something, but she knows Sugar is right- what would she have done, helpless as she was? What would she have done to stop her father's unpleasant actions, when she couldn't even stop him from arranging her unwanted marriage? Her face heats from embarrassment. How could she have been so stupid?
"The important thing is that you're aware now, when it counts," David says, giving her a rough pat to the shoulder. "So that you can stay the fuck away from Lycas and every cursed thing related to it."
"Truly," Brittany mumbles in agreement, averting her eyes in shame. She's still upset that she didn't put all the pieces together, even if she didn't have all the pieces at the time. She was only concerned with escaping, with her own fate- but now she's learned there's so much more at stake, and the thought weighs heavily on her.
"So what now?" Arty wonders.
"Well, I'm not in any hurry to tangle with Sue Sylvester..." Mike starts.
David barks out a harsh laugh. "Aye- that's a sure way to end up dead. And Sisyp ain't no picnic, either."
"Well, we don't have another choice," Puck snaps, speaking up for the first time. He'd been unusually quiet while his crew had been lamenting their struggles, thinking through his response and what their next step would be, but now his voice is strong and forceful. "We ain't just gonna give up on this. We're too close. This is the Big One we're talkin' about-"
Santana sighs loudly, exasperated. "We don't need a Big One, Noah."
"Yeah- we can't enjoy that sort of wealth if we're fuckin' dead."
"It's not just wealth," Puck admits quietly. "We're talking about more than that."
"Wait- I thought this was about riches," Santana starts, her tone low and serious. She doesn't like the committed, almost obsessive note of Puck's voice- it gives her a bad feeling. She knows he's been keeping something from them- from her- and she'd wanted to address it privately, but the time for that has passed, and she must now demand answers. "If it's not, then what the hell is it about? What are you getting us into?"
Puck takes a deep breath, bringing his hands together. He locks eyes with each of them for a moment, setting everyone in the room on edge before he finally says, "What we're searching for... is the Immortal Spring."
"No way!"
"It's taboo-"
"It's not even possible-"
"Are you fucking insane?" Santana hisses. "Immortality? Why would we want that?"
"Not for us, Dia, you're thinking far too small. Imagine what someone else would pay for immortality! Think of the prestige, the wealth, the legacy we would leave behind as the first ones to find the legendary Immortal Spring. You can't buy that sort of clout." He pauses for a moment to let each of the pirates process his words, to understand why this mission is so important, why his behavior has bordered on obsessive. Then, to really drive his point home and make what he's offering them irresistible, he adds, "We could retire- no longer as outlaws, either. We would be heroes. Everything would be ours, whatever we want. We would never have to pirate again."
"Do you think it even exists?" Brittany asks softly, later that night in her spot across the table from Santana. When Sugar had extended the invite on her quartermaster's behalf, she was curious, and a little frustrated that the woman continuously refused to ask her these sorts of things herself; but she had agreed to dinner with her only because, since it was in public, she knew there was no way it could devolve into an opportunity for Santana to try and turn the encounter sexual. She'd sensed that her quartermaster's attitude had changed, but couldn't exactly pinpoint what that change was. Santana looked at her differently, and while Brittany sometimes missed the blatant, fierce desire in her brown eyes, she much rather preferred the respectful, controlled way the woman had been regarding her recently.
"I don't know," Santana admits, reaching for another toasted nut from the snacking bowl in the center of the table. "I've never believed in it, but so far, everything Puck's been hinting at has come true- the map, the translation, even the connection to-" she lowers her voice, "the Dead Gate have all been proven right. Could it be that the Immortal Spring exists, and that there's a way to find it? I'm not so sure there isn't anymore."
"So it's a spring," Brittany starts quietly. "Which means there should be enough water for multiple people to gain immortality..."
Santana nods, waiting for her companion to elaborate.
"Would you take it? Would you sip from the spring?"
Santana shakes her head slowly, contemplating Brittany's words. "Why would I want to do this forever?" she wonders, her brows furrowing. "There are some things that I love- the ocean, the challenge of pirating... but some days I do grow tired of the endless cycle."
"You can't retire?" Brittany chuckles, toying with a chestnut between her fingers before popping it into her mouth.
Santana smiles at her before dropping her gaze. "I never thought about it- an end to this life. And if it ended, what would I do?"
"Sip bumbo out of a coconut on a beach somewhere."
"Is that what you would do?"
Brittany nods, her smile never faltering. "I think so."
"You had the chance, but chose to stay... why did you do it?"
Brittany hesitates at the question, unsure how to answer it without revealing too much of her feelings. "To prove my worth, I guess... and because you have all become my family. Argo would've been pretty lonely without you." The words are out of her mouth before she can stop herself. Instantly, she realizes her slip but it's too late to catch it, and her words hang in the air. She waits to see how Santana will react- will she get up and leave? Will she laugh? She chews her lip with worry, waiting-
But instead, Santana smiles, a slight blush crossing her cheeks, and Brittany's shocked at the sight- had she ever seen her blush before? Had she ever had that power over Santana?
"I guess Argo would be as good a place as any to drink my bumbo," she admits softly, and Brittany can't help but smile. Warm brown eyes find hers, and the adoring look in them makes Brittany's stomach flip. "And if that was my purpose for gaining immortality, then I think... I think I would take it."
The words make Brittany's heart race, and she remains silent, inferring them to mean what she hopes they mean as their waitress arrives with their food, the house specialty. They eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, but Brittany's burning with too many questions; Santana seems soft, relaxed, and open to conversation, without the aid of spirits, or the thick sexual tension that normally hangs between them, rendering conversation impossible. She still feels the attraction, the pull- but it's overshadowed by the calm, relaxed energy between them. She has to take advantage of the rare opportunity she's been given. She sifts through the endless number of things she wants to know about her quartermaster in her brain, and finally settles on one- to start.
"You mentioned your mother- before," Brittany begins lightly, carefully leaving out when you tried to fuck me and Santana hums in encouragement as she spears charred carrots onto a fork. "What about your father?"
Santana shrugs casually. "He was a great fisherman," she says, smiling softly, fondly at his memory. "He taught me a lot about sailing and netting. We were- very close. He was a soldier in the Matas War, which ended just before I was born... but it left us in poverty. He struggled to provide for us up until the day he disappeared."
Brittany gasps softly. "What happened?"
She shrugs. "I'm not sure. He never came home from his last fishing trip. My mother and I were left with nothing. She was devastated, heartbroken. She just-" Santana pauses, remembering her mother's broken, teary face on that day, and every day after. "She died while she was alive."
At Santana's words, Brittany begins to understand Santana's hesitance with relationships. Her heart breaks a little at the thought of a young Santana having to watch her mother fall to pieces. Without thinking, her left hand slides along the table to gently touch Santana's right one, providing her comfort.
Santana clears her throat, staring down at Brittany's hand covering hers, and smiles regretfully at Brittany before pulling her hand away to reach for her glass of water. She takes a long sip, avoiding Brittany's eyes. "Well, after my mother died for real, I was on my own. I used the knowledge father taught me to get a job on a merchant ship and never looked back. I haven't been to Matas since."
Brittany offers her an encouraging smile. "What an incredible story," she breathes. "I can't imagine that kind of life, compared to my own. You're incredible to have survived that."
Santana blushes faintly. "Britt," she protests quietly, and Brittany smiles again at the use of her shortened name. "I did what I did to survive. There's nothing incredible about it." She wonders if Brittany would feel the same admiration if she knew everything she had to do to survive- but shoves the thought away, reassuring herself as she looks up into kind blue eyes. Brittany knows she's killed people- she's watched her do it multiple times, yet still she sits before her, staring at Santana's lips with the look that makes Santana's pulse race. She wishes Brittany wouldn't look at her like that- it makes it so much more difficult to treat her like a friend.
She clears her throat again, dropping her gaze to her plate. "This pheasant is delicious, huh?"
After enjoying the rest of their dinner- and even dessert- Santana slowly walks Brittany back to the inn in comfortable silence, lost in her thoughts. She hopes Brittany enjoyed the meal. She hopes she said the right things. She hopes she didn't scare her, or offend her, or-
"Thank you for the meal," Brittany says softly. Their pinky fingers brush together as they walk, and her pulse quickens at the contact. She feels a sudden impulse to link their fingers together, but she ignores it, determined to let Santana set the pace- though she knows if Santana had her way, there would be no pace, they'd be tangled in her bed already. The thought angers her slightly, but she's not sure why.
"Thank you for the company," Santana counters as they reach the entrance door. She hesitates, and Brittany turns to look at her.
"Are you not staying here?" she asks, but her tone contains a note of hostility, and she wishes she could take back the venom in her words. Why is she so angry?
Santana looks away, nervous. "I am. But I have duties to attend to on the ship."
Brittany wants to ask about those duties- she wants to know everything about the woman in front of her, where she goes, what she does- but she's also very angry, and it's an anger that's making her feel better. "Good night, Quartermaster."
Their eyes meet. Santana licks her lips, debating- but no. It's too soon. They stand in silence for a moment before Santana finally breaks the contact to walk away.
"Good night, Songbird."
Brittany watches her go, then storms through the door. Kurt and Sugar are waiting to ambush her immediately once she enters, which doesn't help her impatience. They usher her over to a private area by the bar, and she orders a glass of rum, chugging it down swiftly before Sugar finally breaks the silence.
"I see it went well."
Brittany takes a deep, angry breath. "Our quartermaster tries my patience."
Kurt raises an eyebrow. "You gonna tell us what the hell happened, then?"
"I had a wonderful time!" Brittany cries angrily before slamming her empty rum glass on the bar to begin pacing. "She was charming, and sweet, and funny, and so- so fucking beautiful, I just..."
Stunned at Brittany cursing for what they're sure is the first time, Kurt and Sugar share a surprised look, and then Sugar confirms, "And that's... bad?"
"She infuriates me," Brittany growls, sitting down heavily in the chair at the bar and grabbing her head furiously. "I cannot figure her out. She claims she doesn't want a relationship, and then takes me to dinner? How dare she!"
Kurt sighs, understanding. "She is frustrating," he agrees. "She's fought against her nature unbelievably hard since you've been with us, doing the exact opposite of her feelings. I can see why that would be absolutely maddening, Britt."
"I do not know where her heart truly lies," Brittany breathes softly. "Is it with me? Or is this her normal, womanizing behavior?"
Sugar laughs. "Brittany, her heart lies with you. Completely. She only wishes that the rest of her lied with you, as well."
"Santana has never acted like this before," Kurt cuts in before Brittany can give voice to a fresh round of anger at Sugar's words. "You have a certain way of driving her crazy."
"She has the same effect on me," Brittany mutters, reaching for her glass, which has been somehow refilled, and taking another long sip. "But at least I am honest with my feelings."
"Yes," Kurt agrees. "You are braver than her in that regard. She has never done this before- never let anyone close to her. She's been alone her whole life. She's been taking care of herself, guarding her emotions, for a long time now- and you're the first person, at least romantically, that's challenged that, that's expected more, that's raised the standard. You're the first woman she hasn't been able to simply have her way with and then discard. In fact, she's struggled with that knowledge for as long as you've been with us."
Brittany stares at them, wishing she could understand. "But she has the strength, the power- and I was so naive, so weak. She could've had me so many times, if that was her only desire."
"I don't believe it is."
"Then why does she deny me?" Brittany sighs. "Why does she charm me, remember my favorite wine, my favorite fruit, shower me with attention and dinner- only to pierce my heart?"
Sugar shrugs. "Something about you scares her, Britt."
"Scares her? I am the least scary person in this crew!"
"Perhaps to anyone else," Kurt allows, "but to Santana, who has never gotten close to another, or bore the thought of losing them, do you not see how you could be scary?"
Brittany bites her lip, considering. She recalls Santana's face from when she mentioned her mother losing her father. "Terrifying," she breathes. "But does she not know that I am scared, too? I have never gotten close to another, either. Not in the way that I want-" she stops, feeling sudden emotion threatening to overwhelm her.
"Perhaps you should have this conversation with her, then."
"If only she had the mind to listen," Brittany sighs.
"Give her time, Britt," Sugar encourages. "She will come around. She's a lot softer than you think."
At the word soft, the image of Santana cradling Lord like a baby, and the way her brown eyes look in the firelight, pops into Brittany's mind, and she smiles slightly, feeling hopeful for the first time in days. She finishes her second drink, trying to make sense of Santana's behavior, when she recognizes David's heavy, noticeable footsteps approaching.
"Hello, beloved," Kurt sings to David, who swoops in for a kiss before wrapping a protective arm around him. Kurt grins at the lavish affection, and Brittany smiles wistfully.
"Oh- hey, Britt," David greets. He pulls a tiny folded piece of parchment from his belt and hands it to her. Curious, she unfolds it and reads it- the handwriting is in a beautiful, loopy script, with only two words: Tailor. Sunset? Confused, she looks back up at David, who explains, "It's from Santana."
Sighing, Brittany drops her hand holding the paper down exasperatedly. "What is she doing?"
David blinks at her. "Uh- courting you. I thought that was obvious."
"I don't need to be courted," Brittany complains impatiently. "I'm already hers. I just want her to know me- and show me that she sees me as more than just a piece of- ass."
David looks at Kurt helplessly, completely out of his element, but Kurt also fumbles for words. It's Sugar who finally says, "She does, Britt. But it's going to take time before she's ready to commit completely."
"Then I'll wait."
"You'll wait," David repeats. "And do what? Be angry at her? Ignore her?" He mutters under his breath, "You're both complete idiots."
"No," Brittany says sullenly. "I just don't want her to get the wrong idea."
"Which is what?"
"That I'm only it for the physical, and-"
"So you don't want to fuck her." David nods in understanding.
Brittany stutters, a blush spreading across her cheeks. "No, I do, I just-"
"Then what's the problem? What're you waiting for?"
She pauses. What is she waiting for? Brittany struggles to answer David's question, unsure what, exactly, the answer actually is.
"Look, Britt," David sighs. He can't believe he's having this same conversation with both of his friends. Can't they figure anything out on their own? "You know she cares 'bout you, right? And you obviously care about her?"
"I do," she whispers, in response to both questions.
"Then here's my advice: don't deny yourself. Take control of the situation if it makes you feel better, but you owe yourself that much. You could all die next week, and what then? You already know of her feelings... she's obviously tryin' to court you... what else do you want?"
Brittany's stunned into silence as David leads Kurt away, and Sugar is gathered by Jake moments later, leaving her at the bar alone. She looks down at the folded parchment. Santana had scrawled a tiny heart shape in the corner that she hadn't noticed before. For unknown reasons, the symbol makes her own heart pound as she imagines Santana drawing it.
Santana cares for her. And she cares for Santana. What more does she want? She thinks hard about the answer; she wishes for Santana to be hers, and only hers- to commit herself in some way to being with only her, though they could never be wed.
But when did marriage ever hold such meaning for her, anyway? She would've been forcibly joined in matrimony to Prince Rory without ever holding him in the same regard that she holds Santana. Is it not enough that Santana has put forth effort to court her? And is it so wrong that Brittany wants her badly, has wanted her badly for months?
She repeats David's advice in her mind- don't deny yourself. Is that what she's been doing? Denying herself from pursuing her sexual desires?
She recalls the conversation she'd had with Sugar, about Jake. Surely they both care about each other, enjoy each other's company, and have an understanding. Sugar has no claim to Jake any more than he to her. If Santana is not ready for such a claim, then surely Brittany can simply enjoy her company, knowing that at the very least, Santana's heart belongs to her, though she's scared to admit it? Does she need some monumental confession of love, some public declaration of Santana's feelings? Would she even want that?
She wants to give herself to Santana so badly, but she wants Santana to appreciate and acknowledge the gift just as badly. There has to be a middle ground, some compromise she can reach where she can be with Santana, fulfill her physical desires, but still move towards the commitment she so desperately craves. She closes her eyes, recalling the way Santana's lips taste, the way her mouth felt between her legs, the dark look in her eyes, and heat flashes through her. Is she wrong to deny herself the feeling of being with Santana because she's so focused on silly titles and structures carried with her from a life that no longer exists?
The answer to that question comes easily: yes.
Making up her mind, she reaches her compromise, her decision; she will not deny herself any longer. At sunset tomorrow, she will take control of her feelings and pursue exactly what she wants.
Well before sunset the following day, Brittany finishes dressing after her long, languid bath, wearing her new outfit, freshly picked up from the seamstress that afternoon- a light cream, long-sleeved silk shirt that complements her blue eyes, a dark blue patterned waistcoat, dark gray trousers, and of course her new leather boots and belt with polished silver buckle. She brushes her hair with a borrowed comb from Sugar, tying it up into a low ponytail with a dark blue ribbon. Checking her appearance in the mirror, she has to admit she exudes the confident, sexy look she had been aiming for, to match her new attitude.
She takes a deep breath and tries to hold onto that confidence as she leaves the inn and walks down the familiar dirt road to the tailor shop where she is to meet Santana. The sun has just begun its descent, still high in the sky, as she reaches the front of the shop and waits, getting lost in watching random townspeople go about their daily routines.
After a few minutes, the door opens, and Santana finishes parting with the shop owner, shutting the door behind her and standing before Brittany, a wide smile on her face.
"Hi," Santana greets, her brown eyes bright, sparkling. Her caramel skin glows in the rays of the sun, and Brittany reminds herself again to hold onto her confidence as she rakes her eyes over Santana's body. Santana is dressed in her usual black on black outfit, oozing sexiness and power, and Brittany's stomach flips nervously at the breathtaking sight.
"Hey," she returns with her own sexy smile. "I received your message- why couldn't you just ask me yourself?"
"It's not proper," Santana mumbles, turning her gaze away shyly. "Arty said..." she trails off as Brittany moves closer, taking both of Santana's hands boldly in hers, and gazing into her shy, unsure- and mildly surprised- face.
"You don't have to court me, Santana."
Santana nods absently, her eyes dropping to stare at Brittany's hands, which are holding hers, as a sinking feeling starts in her stomach. Her thumb traces a small pattern on the back of her hand, and she smiles slightly, painfully. "You refuse me, then..." she murmurs, but the thought of Brittany rejecting her courtship is too hard for her to bear. Maybe David was wrong-
Brittany shifts closer, leaning her forehead on hers, their noses bumping as she stops doing what she thinks is appropriate, and instead, fueled by confidence and desire, she does what she wants. "You misunderstand," she breathes. "There is no need to court me because I am already yours- proudly so."
"Britt," Santana whispers, her throat thick with emotion from the ardent confession. The intensity of it fills her with terror to match, consuming her, driving her to pull away. She offers Brittany a dazzling smile instead. "I have something for you," she says playfully, trying to snap herself out of her feelings of fear, and Brittany grins at the way her words mimic another time, raising a curious eyebrow as Santana pulls a scrap of cloth from her belt, handing it over without preface.
"I wanted to get you something important," Santana admits as Brittany accepts the cloth and examines it quietly. When their eyes meet, Santana's gaze is piercing and steady, and Brittany feels as if she sees into her, through her. She feels as if Santana sees her the way she wants to be seen. "Green is your favorite, right?"
Brittany licks her lips, her voice hoarse as she whispers, "Yes." She can't explain the way her heart pounds in her chest, the way her body fills with a sudden warm feeling, so instead she stammers, "I- I don't know how to thank you." She breaks the intense eye contact, staring down at the bandanna in her hands. She rubs the soft fabric between her fingers, admiring the stitching and the swirls of color- swirls of color that are her favorite color, a favorite color that Santana remembered. The thoughtfulness of the gift surprises her, for she hadn't even thought to get herself a new bandanna- not since Santana had reclaimed the red one that she'd unintentionally left in her possession. It makes her stomach tense, but also clouds her thoughts. How can Santana clearly care so much about her, but refuse to be with her? She can't really put in so much effort just for sex, can she? She could have any woman she wants with that smile-
That smile. The one that always makes her knees weak, as it's currently doing. Brittany can't believe Santana breaks down her defenses so easily; how is it possible that she can deny her nothing when she smiles like that? When the dimple in her cheek appears and makes her heart ache?
"I can think of a way," Santana teases with a grin that makes Brittany's knees feel even weaker. But before her thoughts can run away with her, Santana's smile transforms into something more serious, more nervous. "Will you accompany me to dinner again tonight?"
"You finally dare to voice the question yourself? I thought it was improper..." When Santana bites her lip, wondering if she did something wrong, Brittany laughs at her panicked expression. She grabs Santana's hand again and offers her a gentle squeeze and an affectionate smile. "I josh, Quartermaster. Of course I will accompany you."
Santana nods absently, her gaze faraway, and now it's Brittany's turn to wonder if she did something wrong. The silence lingers for a moment before Brittany busies herself with tying her new bandanna around her belt, the splash of color against her mostly-neutral outfit making her feel complete. She glances at Santana, who's watching with an unreadable expression- but with obvious interest in her brown eyes- and smiles again.
"Do you like it?"
"Britt," Santana laughs. "What does it matter if I like it? It only matters that you like it."
"Because your opinion matters to me."
Taken aback, Santana stutters- "O-of course I like it."
Brittany smiles wider. "I like it, too. Thank you."
Santana fights a blush as they begin their casual stroll to their restaurant for the evening, and they make small talk, the conversation flowing so naturally and easily that Santana wonders if she's even still afraid. Brittany's blue eyes sparkle in the sun, which is still slowly sinking in the sky, and the effect of the golden light dancing on her skin makes Santana feel intoxicated in a way she's never felt before.
When they get to the restaurant, they spend their meal in comfortable silence, lost in their own thoughts. When their eyes meet, Santana feels as if the air has been stolen from her lungs- she's not sure that Brittany's ever looked at her like that before. It's such a foreign look that Santana doesn't even know how to describe it; she only knows that it makes her feel raw and exposed, and although it's still a terrifying feeling, it's also exhilarating. It's the way she feels when she's sailing, or when she survives a close call, or-
"How's your meal tonight?" Brittany murmurs, her voice low and intimate. Santana still feels pinned under her smoldering, endless gaze. She watches as Brittany's fingers stroke up and down her glass absently, and she glances down at her lumpy potato in consideration, if only to escape the intensity of Brittany's eyes.
"Delightful," she says after a moment. Then, with more courage, she adds, "But that's because of my company." The flattered smile Brittany offers her as a result of her words fills her with reassurance and warmth. So far, so good. Maybe she can be a good friend to Brittany, after all.
After they finish their meal, Brittany expects to be escorted back to the inn, but instead, Santana takes her in the opposite direction. They amble slowly, to the outskirts of the small town, the evening warm with a gentle breeze and the only sounds coming from their boots on the dirt path and the evening critters calling to their mates. Though curious of their destination, Brittany withholds her questions in favor of just enjoying Santana's presence as she walks beside her. She knows her curiosity will be answered in time.
When Santana turns them off the path, Brittany sees that she's leading her down to a set of docks, but a vastly different, quieter area than where the Sea Guillotine is moored. The sun is nearly gone, its final rays lingering in the sky and casting an orange glow across the clouds, reflecting on the waves as it barely peeks over the horizon. They are alone, with just the sounds of the ocean, and no boats in view. Santana moves to the edge of the dock and sits down, then begins taking her boots off, rolling her pants to her calves. Brittany watches for a moment before she gracefully does the same, settling beside her on the worn, salt-weathered wood. Once free of their boots, they slip their bare feet into the water, which is warm and soothing- familiar.
The sky changes colors again as the sun finally disappears completely, and they watch the pretty change in comfortable silence. Brittany steals a glance at Santana, studying the peaceful way she stares into the horizon. She gazes at her lips, her molten brown eyes which capture and reflect the dying light of the sun, and she feels a longing inside her- a longing for Santana to belong to her in way that no one else ever has. She yearns for the connection she desires, the connection she knows is still unattainable; but she can't deny that Santana is trying- that Santana has put forth clear effort, and Brittany finds that incredibly attractive.
Licking her lips, she realizes that her pulse has begun to race. No part of her is touching Santana, and yet, she feels herself burning, aching. As the stars begin to emerge in the darkened sky, the moon rises, and the romantic atmosphere flows over her, Brittany imagines kissing Santana in a myriad of ways, silently urging herself to take control.
When Santana finally pulls her feet from the water and stands, citing the late hour and her protective need to ensure Brittany's back at the inn- safe- Brittany feels her opportunity slipping away, a sense of urgency washing over her as Santana picks up her boots with one hand, opting to let her feet air dry on the walk. She offers Brittany a smile, and when her dimple appears, it finally breaks her; she makes up her mind, her heart aching as she moves in close, reaching for Santana's hand to halt her departure.
"Wait..."
"Britt?"
"Kiss me," Brittany breathes. "Please..."
"I-" Santana starts, nearly dropping her boots in surprise. "I can't."
Brittany shifts closer, tilting her head a little. "Why?"
"Because, I-" Santana squeezes her eyes shut, struggling to resist, but Brittany's lips have parted, and she's giving her that look, and- "I'm trying to be your friend, to do what you asked-"
"I just asked you to kiss me."
"Brittany," Santana pleads in a half-hearted whisper. Brittany's mouth is so close, she feels as if they are sharing breaths. "Please- I don't- I can't give you what you want-"
"I think you misunderstand what I want, then."
Santana bites her lip, contemplating, unsure. She struggles to form coherent thoughts, struggles to analyze Brittany's words, struggles to resist her desperate ache to be with Brittany. She longs for her, but she doesn't want to ruin what they have started to rebuild, not when it's actually good-
Swallowing her confusion, she wonders, "Do I?"
A nod barely registers. She can't tear her eyes away from Brittany's lips, from how agonizingly close they are. But what has changed? She watches Brittany's tongue flick out to wet her bottom lip, feels Brittany's hands moving to her waist, pulling her in close, her fingers slipping beneath the bottom hem of her shirt, just barely pressing into her skin, possessive, and she shudders at the warm touch.
Nothing has changed- except everything. Santana can sense that their dynamic has shifted, somehow- though she cannot determine how. She can only guess that now they are coming together as equals, but she knows that's not quite right, either, for she doesn't feel equal to Brittany in any way. Perhaps Brittany has changed her mind on her stance? The thought cheers her a little but also saddens her- she wonders if Brittany gave up because she didn't believe Santana would ever change, would ever rise to the challenge, would ever care about her enough to do both of those things. And Santana knows that Brittany never had any reason to think that she would. If she's being honest, she didn't see herself doing it, either, but now here she is, standing before Brittany, with the attractive blonde tracing fingers up and down her spine.
"I'd be lying if I said I haven't thought about your mouth on me," Brittany confesses in an intimate whisper, pressing close, the warmth of her body causing Santana to shiver. Her words send a shot of electricity straight between her legs, and she struggles to retain some semblance of control over herself and her feelings- Brittany's not drunk, not at all; and neither is she. They are both here, together, in this moment.
"I have, too," she admits, surprising herself at her raw honesty as their foreheads press together. Her heart pounds in anticipation. "But what about-"
"I still want you," Brittany says firmly, her grip on her hips tightening. "All of you. I'm not willing to compromise on that; I will have all of you- someday."
Santana swallows thickly, her heart sinking with disappointment and fear, but Brittany hasn't moved away, and her senses are still on fire from her close proximity. She half wishes that Brittany would push her away so that she can't ruin their newfound friendship, but then Brittany speaks again, and her control jumps off the dock and into the water.
"But I want some of you now."
When Brittany closes the distance between their lips, Santana forgets how to breathe. It's not slow, or gentle. Brittany kisses her fiercely, almost angrily, and Santana swallows her ire, struggling to keep up with the relentless pace Brittany sets. They sink down onto a pile of old, frayed rope rigging, worn soft from heavy use, and for the first time, Brittany presses Santana onto her back to claim the dominant position, kissing the life out of her. She presses her hips down instinctively, her only experience being on the bottom, beneath Santana; but she remembers how it felt to receive, and when she rocks her hips down again, she's rewarded with Santana moaning lowly into her mouth, the vibrations seeming to travel throughout her whole body. She grinds down hard, searching for the position that grants her the most friction, then starts up a steady rhythm, using Santana's thigh to give herself the pleasure she's starving for.
Santana's hands skillfully unbuckle her new belt, unbutton her waistcoat, and she pauses in her hungry attack on Santana's mouth to sit up enough to rip the garment from her shoulders, tossing it onto the sun-beaten dock beside her. Santana's warm hands are already slipping under her loose shirt, traveling up her back, across her ribs, onto her tense, hot stomach, burning a path into her hypersensitive skin. Her hands move lower, beneath her loosened pants and onto her ass, squeezing, pulling her hips harder against her thigh, and Brittany gasps in her mouth as her pleasure builds and builds. She's already so close, but she desperately wants something else- something she's been imagining since it happened weeks ago-
"I want your mouth on me again," she pants, breathless.
Santana breathes heavily on her back for a moment before she licks her lips. "Come here."
Quickly, Brittany pushes her pants down, refusing to stop kissing Santana as she tugs and kicks them low and off. Taking a deep breath, her heart rapidly pounding, she finally breaks the kiss to straddle Santana's face, feeling awkward for only the first few terse seconds before Santana's mouth finds her warm, wet center.
It doesn't take Brittany long, not with Santana's expert tongue stroking her, not with her soft lips wrapped around her clit, not with the vibrations of her moans against her slick entrance, and Brittany's thighs shake, her back arches, her face tilts upward towards the starlit sky. As her release approaches powerfully, her mouth drops open, and a strangled cry rips from her throat as she finishes gloriously in Santana's mouth, her hips bucking involuntarily as she does.
When she finishes riding the waves of pleasure- riding Santana's tongue- she dismounts her face and slides back down into her original position to kiss her, tasting herself for the first time on Santana's lips and swallowing her throaty moan. When she pulls back and catches the look in Santana's dark, fervent eyes, she knows.
Santana is hers in this moment- and that's enough.
After, they walk back to the inn in comfortable silence, barefoot and carrying their boots. Brittany's never felt so satisfied. Even the first time, when she was drunk, she didn't remember enough of it to indulge in the feeling of contentment she's basking in now. She feels like she's floating on a cloud the whole way. She steals a glance at Santana, who's smiling to herself, wondering at how her feelings have grown in just a short time. How does Santana amaze and enrapture her without effort? How can she feel so much for another person?
When they reach the inn, Brittany hesitates, reluctant to part from Santana. She wants to invite her to her room, to fall asleep beside her, to maybe have a second part to their romp, but she also knows that it's too soon for that, so instead she stops before the entrance and turns to her companion, the same as the previous night.
"Ship duties?" She teases, and Santana grins wryly in response. She's amazed at how effortlessly they fall back into their easy, playful routine.
"Mmhm."
Without warning, Brittany surges forward and kisses her deeply, hand winding into her silky, dark hair, and when she pulls back, breathless, she says "Thank you for the wonderful evening."
Heart stammering, Santana can only nod in response, her pulse still racing, her skin still humming. She stalls, searching for words that can convey everything she's feeling, but the only feeling she can really grasp and hold onto is the feeling of being suddenly and completely whole.
Brittany grins playfully at Santana's mute response, feeling a little proud of herself that she's able to cause that effect, and then, softer, fonder, she whispers, "Good night, Quartermaster."
Santana finds her voice enough to breathe back, "Good night, Songbird."
Mike Chang has heard a lot of wild plans over the course of his 7 years as Master Carpenter aboard the Tide Ripper. He's been with his crew for a long time, even before the Tide Ripper, when they were all at the mercy of their previous Captain aboard the Hellish Scream, back when he was not Mike, but Manchu. He and Puck had been friends since the day he was set free from the slave ship that had stolen him from his homeland; in fact, it was Puck who called him Michael, because it's more low profile, he'd said. The name stuck. He hadn't gone by Manchu in a decade. Their friendship endured, and Puck's insane plans never failed to surprise and impress him. Some of them were so fantastical, with such a narrow margin for survival, that he was sure he'd dreamed them up rather than experienced them himself. He'd thought, over the years, that Puck's plans were getting slightly more tame- at least, before they'd sneaked into Lao. After all, his captain had always had a flourish for drama- which usually resulted in something unbelievable- and though he'd frequently disagreed with his plans, he'd reluctantly gone along with them, mostly due to his trust.
But this time, Puck has gone over the side, and he's not the only one who thinks so.
"This is insane," Santana seethes, pacing beside the table, her footsteps angry. "Even for you, Noah." Mike barely hears her over the disgruntled uproar of the other officers voicing their objections, and his own loud thoughts. "Even if we did ask Quinn for help, and she agreed to it- the risk required to get into Sisyp- and if we got caught- and if anything else went wrong-"
"Look," Puck interrupts firmly, "we've gotta take a big risk if we want a big reward."
Mike cuts in, "But this is too big!"
The other pirates agree, and he's glad he's not the single dissenter in the group. He's not willing to risk Brittany's- or Santana's, or Sugar's- lives for money, no matter how great the amount. Their job requires a certain amount of risk, a certain level of life-threatening peril, a certain danger... but to raise that level for uncertain payoff is foolish, and unacceptable to him.
As she paces, Santana can't help but notice, once again, how much her crew loves Brittany, and how they defend and protect her- because she knows they certainly aren't protesting because of her. It makes her proud and a little jealous all at once- but if she's being honest, she knows she's not the one who needs defending and protecting, and her crew knows that, as well.
"Enough!"
Puck stands up suddenly, slamming his fist on the table and silencing the complaining pirates. "I am the Captain- which means I make the calls. You all agreed to it long ago... So unless you want a mutiny on your hands, we are doing this. Does anyone challenge me?"
Mike directs his gaze to Santana. If anyone is in a position to challenge, to veto, it's her. For a moment, she seems as if she might, but when Puck meets her eyes pointedly, she bites her lip and averts her gaze in submission, and Mike feels his stomach tightening with dread and fear. No one else speaks.
"Good." Puck takes a deep, calming breath. "I know you guys don't like this plan- it's risky, and we are putting ourselves in a bad way. But unless one of you suddenly speaks Dlobrohin, this is the only way that we can acquire that translator and still somehow escape with our lives. I know this is gonna be tricky, but I also know that we can do it- we've been in stickier situations, and we always came out on top. We have the best crew- unstoppable- and I know we can rise to this challenge."
It's then that Mike recalls why Puck became Captain in the first place- because of his quick-witted words, his motivation, his gusto, even his pair of balls- and he observes him, his fierce determination, his powerful stance, his confidence, how the pirates bend to his will, and knows with a sinking feeling in his gut that their next stop will bring them to the mouth of the Lioness's Den.
As Puck dismisses them for their last night on Perdic, Mike wishes he had never found the information out that he had- he'll never forgive himself- or Puck- if something bad happens to Brittany.
"Do you want another?" the cute, brown-haired bartender asks her as she finishes the last sip of her rum.
Brittany hesitates. It's her last night in Perdic, and Santana hasn't asked for her company this evening; it worries her. She replays the last two nights with Santana over in her head, wondering where they will go from here now that she's made it clear that she will not hold back her physical desires any longer.
But she's still so, so sad. She wants Santana in a way that she cannot have her, and she has no idea when that will change. Perhaps never-
"She does," Kurt answers for her as he sidles up next to her, holding half of a cut potato in his right hand. Brittany stares at it curiously.
"Is something happening?" Brittany wonders as the bartender slides her another glass. She takes a long drink at Kurt's encouraging hand gesture.
"We have our orders for the next mission," he says easily. "Finish your drink and then come with me." He looks at the bartender. "Do you have gin?"
Once Brittany finishes her drink, she looks at Kurt, who scoops up the cup of gin in his free hand and then leads her outside to the courtyard of the inn.
"We've a new mission?" Brittany asks as they walk.
Kurt nods. "You've been chosen as one of the main players."
"Me?" She stops suddenly with surprise, then rushes to catch up to Kurt as he turns the corner and enters the courtyard. She's even more surprised to find Mike and her other pirate friends waiting for her. Instantly, she tenses. "Do I have to fight you again?"
David laughs loudly. "You might want to, after." He shoots her a wicked grin, and she looks at Mike.
"After what?"
"Sit down, Britt," Sugar encourages softly, gesturing to a small stool beside her. Brittany does as she's told, moving cautiously to sit, though she's still expecting to be attacked at any moment, and she doesn't want to be caught unprepared. Sugar places her hand comfortingly on her shoulder, but when David places his hand heavily on her other one, she begins to feel nervous- especially when Mike moves in close. Her gaze catches Santana's over his shoulder, and though Brittany's surprised that she is here, too, the reassuring smile her quartermaster shoots her both calms and ignites her, sending jellyfish fluttering in her stomach. She focuses hard on brown eyes as Mike commands her to remain still in a gentle, soothing voice.
She has no idea what's happening, but something cold and wet swipes along the top of her ear, and seconds later she smells the strong stinging scent of the gin Kurt had brought. What are her friends doing?
"Got the earring?" Mike asks close to her, and David confirms that he does beside her. A wet, firm thing that Brittany recognizes as the potato presses to one side of her ear, and Brittany wonders what an earring and a potato have in common and what they have to do with whatever's happening. A moment later, a sharp prick of pain spikes in her ear, and Brittany feels something solid and metal push through her skin. Another press of the cold, wet something, and Mike says, all done.
"Now she's ready," David agrees stoically. Brittany thinks that he sounds upset, though she has no idea what for. What does an earring have to do with the next mission?
Automatically, Brittany reaches up to touch her left ear, which is stinging with muted pain, feeling a small metal cuff where one wasn't before. "What is this for?"
"It'll pay for your burial if you die at sea," Santana says somberly, and Brittany stares into her indiscernible brown eyes, processing her words.
"If I die at sea," she repeats. She looks at Sugar, then at David, then at Kurt, who all look upset, possibly for the same reason. She bites her lip, wondering what is supposedly going to happen to her that requires her to prepare for her own burial. "Is that very likely?"
Kurt flounders, but David shrugs nonchalantly. "It's probable, but not likely- not with the way I trained ya." He squeezes her shoulder to emphasize, and Brittany swallows, unsure what this next mission entails, but trusting her friends- trusting Santana- not to get her killed on her first mission. Though, the earring definitely doesn't instill a whole lot of confidence.
"How can I possibly repay you for this?"
"No need," Kurt reassures kindly. "We all chipped in to pay for it- for you and for Sugar. It's tradition."
Brittany nods, unsure how to voice how deep her gratitude runs, so she simply says, "Thank you... all of you."
The smiling faces of her friends look back at her, and she wonders what she did to deserve such good, genuine people in her life. She's known for a while, but she reaffirms why such good people stay pirates, why they never leave such a dangerous life- because the camaraderie, the way they care for each other, is greater than anything she'd ever experienced before. She hopes when this new mission starts that she won't let them down. It's her chance to prove herself as a pirate, to repay their generosity through her actions- by being a dependable teammate. She returns their smiles, then catches Santana's dark eyes.
She'd be lying if she said she didn't sense the unease in her friends, the tense, dark energy that surrounds them. She wonders what part she will have to play, why it has them all upset... and why she needs an earring.
"Do you like it?"
Brittany looks up quickly from the crate she's packing with root veggies at the sound of Santana's voice as she enters the galley. Subconsciously, she touches the minimal gold cuff on her ear, smiling. "I do- it matches yours. Another thing you remembered." When Santana shrugs casually, smirking, Brittany hesitates, trying to decide if she should say more- and before she can stop herself, she blurts, "Do you?"
Santana traces her eyes from Brittany's ear, to bright, blue eyes, to full, soft lips. "Yes," she says finally. "You look..." She doesn't know how to put her feelings into words. Beautiful? Majestic? Fierce? Capable? "Official."
Brittany laughs a little, lifting a small sack of sugar. "Official? Well then when do I get my official briefing on the mission, Quartermaster?"
Santana's expression instantly darkens. "Once the supplies we obtained from Perdic are transferred to the Tide Ripper, we will immediately be on our way to the Lioness's Den to obtain assistance for it. The Captain has decided we will make the journey to Sisyp, after all."
Brittany blinks, somewhat startled at the news. She'd never even heard of Sisyp, never knew the island existed. She's surprised that they are rushing in to a place like that so soon without, it seems, a whole lot of planning. They'd set sail just that morning from Perdic with their home island as the destination, but she'd assumed they were heading back to make further, more detailed preparations- not simply to change ships and head out again. She wonders where the Lioness's Den is located, and how far it is from their own island. "Why do we need Quinn?"
Santana sighs. "To get us into the dungeon."
Confused, but deciding not to press the matter, since it obviously upsets Santana, Brittany places her small sack of sugar in its normal spot. She'd almost completely finished preparing the supplies they'd acquired from Perdic for transport onto the Tide Ripper- enough that she can afford a small break. She looks at Santana's face, finding the woman chewing her lip, a worried expression gracing her features, her brows furrowed. The sight makes Brittany's heart clench, and slowly, she reaches for Santana's hand, her fingertips brushing the back of it.
Tensing involuntarily at the touch, Santana holds her breath, unsure where she stands with Brittany after their dates in Perdic. When the blonde's fingers lace with hers, and she holds her hand fully, Santana relaxes a little, catching Brittany's gaze.
"How long until we're there once we leave?"
"We will arrive tomorrow evening. She's not far from us."
"I'm nearly finished here... would you like to walk with me before we moor?"
Santana smiles regretfully. "I can't. I'm actually on my way to the armory. I just-" she pauses. Missed you. She inwardly cringes at how needy that sounds- she's not ready to sound that soft yet. Instead, she decides to admit, "I wanted to see you." Not a whole lot better.
Brittany blushes, but a knowing smile graces her lips- as if she knew what Santana meant to say; for a moment, Santana wonders if she will call her out, but Brittany tells her with her eyes that she will keep her secret safe. "I'm glad you did." She moves closer, leaning in to press a slow, sensual kiss to Santana's lips, a kiss that tells Santana that she definitely knew. She smiles against Santana's mouth, forcing herself to keep her kiss innocent, to not suck on her plump bottom lip, to not tangle her fingers in dark hair, or press her against the wall, or grab her ass. When she pulls back, she finds Santana still standing with her eyes closed, savoring the taste of Brittany's lips. It sends heat flashing low in her stomach, but she reminds herself to resist the pull- for now.
"Thank you for the earring," she murmurs, circling her thumb on the back of Santana's hand before giving it a squeeze and releasing it.
Santana shrugs again, trying to grasp her bearings, trying to remember where and who she is. "You're welcome; let's just hope you never need to use it." She takes a deep breath, trying to slow her racing heart. "I'll see you, Britt..."
She wants to stay- more than anything, she wants to spend time with Brittany. Never before has she loathed her ship responsibilities, but at the moment, they are a huge inconvenience- yet they also save her, because the idea of spending time with Brittany scares her just as much as it appeals to her. Once she grows accustomed to changing her routine, to creating new memories, there's no turning back- if things end up unfavorably, as they surely will due to Puck's imbecilic plan, she will never be able to forget them.
(Deep down, she knows it's already too late.)
They meet no resistance as they cautiously moor to the rickety, decayed visitors' pier on the outskirts of Quinn's island. The pier is in severe disrepair, with most of the main planks rotted through or sinking into the ocean- it gives the impression that the island is deserted, which is exactly what Quinn and her crew want to project. Santana knows better, though, having visited the offensive island more than she's wanted over the course of her life. As she carefully maneuvers down the pier, avoiding the giant, gaping holes that would send her into an icy saltwater bath, she can't help but wish to never visit it again.
"Charming place," Sugar mutters under her breath as they reach solid land. Santana sizes up their little greeting party, her stomach sinking as she takes in Brittany- who's unarmed, Sugar- who's unarmed, Jake- who's armed only with the map they lifted from Lao, and fuck... is she really going to be the only one (besides Puck, who chose to come here to begin with) that can defend them in a fight?
Their usual party, which includes at least David and Mike, was reluctantly, and with much protest, left behind on the ship- Captain Idiot's plan. He didn't want Quinn to feel threatened or to get the wrong idea. Quinn employed only women in her crew- a show of female empowerment, or something- and with the exception of Jake, who was used only to carry and safeguard the map- which is a phony copy of the original (at least Puck had the foresight to leave the real map behind)- they brought only women to greet her.
"Weren't we forbidden to ever come here again?" Santana wonders casually as they march across the island towards the entrance to Quinn's lair. The path- if there ever was a path- is deeply overgrown, and Santana's frustrated almost immediately, made stronger due to her unease towards being on the island.
Puck waves her concern off beside her as he uses his sword to slice through some brush, clearing the way for his followers as he leads them onward. "A minor technicality. Quinn'll be glad we came once I tell her what's in it for her."
"Of course."
Quinn's domain is deep in a cave in the side of a supposedly inactive volcano- a detail that aids in her legend as the Lioness. It doesn't take them long to circle around and find the entrance, but only because they'd been there before- to Brittany and Sugar, the process their crew uses to determine the location of the cave might as well be magic.
Once inside the entrance, they begin the walk into the dark down a long, winding tunnel, Puck igniting an improvised torch as they go to light their way- and to draw attention to their party. Within minutes, Santana can tell they've been noticed, and are surrounded by Quinn's guards, who stay hidden in shadow.
"I think we've found them," Sugar comments lightly from the front of the group as the tips of several swords find her neck. Santana's hands immediately twitch in response, aching to draw her own swords in defense, but Puck halts her with his raised, open hand, holding his torch up high.
"Easy," he grins, gazing moronically at the women who have cornered them. Santana half hopes that they skewer him and save her the trouble. She'll gladly turn around and go straight back to the boat.
As a few tense, quiet seconds pass, Santana releases the breath she'd been inadvertently holding. "Just relax, everyone," she says finally, holding her empty palms up to show she's unarmed. "No threats here."
"Ya so sure bout dat, eh?" Quinn's Quartermaster, Hell's Mistress- or is it Mercy? Santana can't remember, it's been so long since she's cared- challenges, pressing her sword into flesh a little. Brittany stares, wide-eyed, having never heard the woman speak before, nor does she recognize her accent. "Ya don' seem ta be in no position to be makin' those kinsa promises."
"Perhaps I should introduce myself," Puck boasts. "I'm Captain TigerShark, of the-"
"Oh, please spare me," Mercy- yeah, that definitely sounds right- mutters, shaking her head. "We know damn well who ya are, fool."
"Why are you here?" The thin, brown-haired girl- Marley, she thinks? It's all coming back to her- demands.
"Yes, why have you dared show your face on our island?"
Santana stares hard at the blonde girl who spoke, willing her name to populate in her mind. Does she really care, though? She glares at Puck before answering the question. "We've come seeking Quinn." No- she doesn't.
The two girls react instantly with outrage at her words, which brings an amused smile to Santana's lips at being able to so easily rile them up.
"That's The Lioness to you," the blonde hisses, and Santana finally recalls that her name is Catty. Or Kitty. Something weird like that.
"You dare speak her name?! Your flesh and bones will rot on these rocks, filth!"
Santana's eyes widen at the insane threat and she nearly barks out a harsh laugh, but she bites her cheek. Marley always was the crazy one.
"Easy, now, Marley, thems not de ones ya need worry for," Mercy says, placing a strong, ebony hand on the girl's boney shoulder, as if to hold her back. Santana nearly rolls her eyes- as if that toothpick of a woman could ever truly challenge her-
"They disrespect our Captain!"
"An' dey'll pay for it dearly, now, trust me," Mercy promises, rolling her eyes where the other girl can't see. It makes Santana grin, which irritates the two girls more.
"Continue to stand watch here wit da'udders. I'll take deez heathens to de Cap'n."
Marley cackles with glee as Mercy gestures them forward, and they follow her down the path through the cave. "You'll really suffer, now!" She calls happily.
Brittany laughs nervously. "Can't wait."
"Is she all right? She seems crazier than usual," Santana converses as they walk.
Mercy sighs heavily, covering her face with one of her hands. "She got hit in de head wit a stray round dat ricocheted off de mast a while back- she done barely survived, poor lass, but she been looney eva since."
"Amazing," Brittany comments, surprised that the girl was able to survive an injury like that.
"...Exactly what I was going to say," Sugar nods with an expression that says she had no intention of saying that at all.
They walk in comfortable silence for a while down the familiar- though not recently- path, until it finally ends at a heavy door, guarded by two more women. When they spot Mercy approaching, the two female guards scramble to open the door, and Mercy leads them into a beautiful, though dimly-lit, room, with floors of polished marble. Intricate sconces decorate the room, casting intimate light; luxurious tapestries line the walls, and Brittany is impressed at the elegance and richness of Quinn's residence. Mercy takes them down another hallway to the right, which ends in another grand room. Brittany recognizes it as an audience chamber, and wonders how big the Lioness's Den actually is, to afford such space to an audience chamber. She clearly does not receive a lot of visitors, so what is it used for?
"Wait here while I get Q," Mercy mutters, leaving them standing in the room alone. They all fidget awkwardly, Brittany tense and feeling anxious about seeing Quinn again, but once she catches the calming smile Santana shoots at her across the room, she relaxes... a little.
"What is this?" Quinn demands as she enters, her heeled, high boots echoing off the polished marble in the large chamber. Behind her, a young girl keeps pace with her stride. Brittany's eyes widen as she notices her, wondering what a child could be doing hanging around in a place like this, and especially with someone like Quinn- an infamous pirate. Quinn moves to sit in a chair at the head of the room on a raised platform, looking for all intents and purposes like a regal lion ascending to a throne, and the young girl stands obediently beside her.
"Quinn, it's a real pleasure," Puck greets, before his eyes fall to the girl.
"Spare me," Quinn mutters. She also looks expectantly at the girl. "Beth, greet Noah."
"Hello, Father," Beth obeys, her voice devoid of emotion.
"My little Seahorse," Puck grins. "You've gotten awful big since the last time I saw you."
"Mother feeds me the blood of her enemies," Beth says with a genuine smile, and Brittany laughs hesitantly, unsure if the girl is joking. When no one else laughs, she swallows her humor and glances at Santana, hoping for some sort of response, but Santana stays focused on Quinn, and her thoughts run wild. Her Captain has a daughter? With Quinn? The thought of them together somewhat repulses her... no wonder the Lioness turned to women. She wonders when their histories crossed, at what age, and how everything came to be- but it's all information she will have to find out at another time, for Quinn's piercing green eyes bore deeply into Puck and she leans forward, ready to pounce, reminding Brittany that they have other reasons for being here, though they are unknown to her.
"Noah, as usual, you've ignored my wishes and taken a great risk coming here, so let's just cut to the chase- what do you want?"
Puck nods, as if he expected Quinn to skip the pleasantries. "I'll be straightforward, then- we need your help. We're onto something- something big-"
"I swear I've heard that somewhere before..." Quinn sighs loudly, looking bored as she examines her nails.
"You have," Puck agrees. "But remember that map I told you about?" He gestures to Jake, who's clutching the map protectively in his arms. "We got it."
"You managed your way into Lao?" Quinn asks doubtfully, but her green eyes widen in genuine surprise as Jake displays the map, holding it out to her.
"And out," Puck shrugs like it was no big deal, but Brittany recalls the fire, the bloodshed, how she almost drowned-
"Unbelievable," Quinn whispers to herself as she examines the parchment, touching it like it could crumble into dust from a mere heavy breath. When she finds the seal- the snake with wings- on the corner, which marks the map as authentic, she shakes her head slowly. "By my womb, it's real." She pushes the map back to Jake carefully, her eyes narrowing. "If you were able to acquire this map and escape Lao, then what do you need my help for?"
"We can't read it. It's in Dlobrohin," Santana snaps, annoyed that Puck is giving Quinn, in her opinion, too much information. If she relays the information herself, she has more control over what's disclosed, since clearly Puck's judgment is still outside with the ship.
Quinn's eyes narrow further, into cold, emerald slits. "You must be joking. No one speaks that dead language anymore."
"We thought so, too," Puck admits, as if trying to beat Santana to spilling forth more information. "But we managed to track someone down..."
"Where?"
Puck postures, shrugging as if the answer is as easy as sailing to Phiny or some other well-known island. "The dungeons of Sisyp."
Quinn laughs warmly, a sharp contrast to her cold expression. "Sisyp? I sincerely hope you have a second option."
When no one immediately answers, Quinn rises from her throne, taking slow, powerful steps down towards Puck, her patience disintegrated. "Then once again, I ask you- how does this include why you are standing before me in my home?" She hisses, her green eyes flashing. Brittany thinks that she looks terrifying, having never seen such an intimidating side of Quinn before.
"We have a plan," Puck starts, trying to hold his ground but looking appropriately intimidated by Quinn's powerful presence. "We are going to send in a small crew," he gestures to Santana, Brittany, and Sugar, "disguised as slaves, to infiltrate Sylvester's dungeons. But we need you to turn them in."
Quinn pauses, glancing at the three women. Brittany struggles not to show emotion- she was unaware of the details of the plan- or her part in it- until her Captain gave voice to them just now. She fights to remain calm, but inside, her mind is reeling- she is to be sent in, unarmed, as a slave? To a master that all of her crew clearly fear? Is she strong enough to pull off such a feat? So many things could fail-
The Lioness paces slowly, challenging, "Why me? Why not turn them in yourself?"
"Our ship is too high profile right now."
The pacing stops. Quinn smiles. "And I suppose you can't fancy disguises, which your crew is so masterful in?"
"Not against someone like Sylvester," Puck pleads. "Come on, Lucy, you know what she's like-"
"Watch your tone," Mercy growls, pointing her sword threateningly in his direction, and Quinn smiles at her, waving her hand to show it's okay. Brittany wonders if Lucy is Quinn's real name, the way Santana is Dia's, and Noah is Puck's. She wonders if she should be thinking of an alias, since all pirates clearly seem to have one.
"Suppose I agree to this shit show of a plan... What's in it for me?"
"You get to keep all the money you sell our girls here for," Puck nods.
And then it finally happens- the moment Brittany's been dreading. The Lionness notices her, and suddenly she's moving closer, smiling predatorily.
"So... you've finally gained a fraction of a brain and added more women to your ranks?" She stops just before Brittany, gazing into blue eyes, her heels making them even in height. Up close in person she is terrifyingly beautiful, and Brittany feels her heartbeat accelerate from her frightening presence. "Hello, again, Blue Eyes," she purrs, her own green eyes dark, infinite. "Now that you are free, let me offer you what these bumbling noodles could never offer you-"
"This is not why we are here, Q," Santana growls under her breath.
Quinn doesn't take her eyes from Brittany's as she smirks, addressing Santana. "And are you afraid she might take me up on my offer?"
Yes, Santana thinks. But she snaps tersely, "She's free to do as she pleases, but she should know that there are consequences for leaving, should she choose to do so."
"Consequences I'm sure my opulence could more than cover," Quinn laughs, sultry, her eyes drifting down to Brittany's lips. "So how 'bout it, Blue Eyes? Would you like to join my crew? Would you like to be part of a real ship, instead of a floating pile of flotsam, piloted by morons who couldn't find Polaris on a clear night?"
Brittany swallows, her stomach tightening with fear and excitement, two very appropriate, though opposite, feelings. On the one hand, she knows beyond a doubt that Quinn would take care of her in ways Santana might never. Brittany's surely more capable than both of the girls guarding the entrance to the Lair, and would most certainly rise in rank quickly. Quinn understands the finesse of royalty, and judging by her treatment of Rachel, would absolutely be a gentlewoman to Brittany if anything were to come of their relationship- which Quinn obviously communicates with her dark green eyes. Quinn would not be afraid to commit, afraid of Brittany's feelings, afraid to belong to someone...
Quinn is so different from Santana, and yet-
"I'm flattered, Lioness..." Brittany says hoarsely, her throat tightening as she sorts through her conflicted feelings.
Quinn leans in, closer, so that Brittany can smell her strong, woodsy scent- familiar in a way that she can't place, so different from Santana- "And?" she hums, soft, intimate. "Just say the word, Britt, and I'll have you."
Biting her lip, Brittany struggles to follow through with her response. Quinn is stunning, and she makes it quite difficult to think. But does Quinn really want her? Or does she just want to win, to have Brittany as a trophy to dangle over Santana's head? She takes a deep breath, preparing her response. "You are too kind... but I have yet to earn my place, and would be utterly devastated if I felt I owed my crew anything. I must humbly decline your generous offer; I hope you understand."
Quinn smiles but it doesn't reach her suddenly-cold eyes- she's not fooled, and she shoots Santana a surreptitiously murderous look as she pulls back. "Oh, I understand well. Perhaps even more than you do." She turns back to her chair, ascending the three short steps to sit daintily. When she next speaks, it's loud enough to address the room. "So, I'm to turn three in?" She nods. "And what's to stop me from simply collecting the money and betraying you?"
Wounded at the idea that Quinn would even consider betraying them, Puck remains silent, his eyes dark and gloomy. When Santana realizes he has no answer, she speaks up, her voice deadly, with a hard, acidic edge. If she could decapitate Quinn, she would. She can nearly feel the unease pouring off of Brittany, and her protective instinct has triggered. "You will give us some of your own crew to accompany us and help us."
"And you honestly believe that would stop me from betraying you?"
"Quinn," Puck sighs, defeated. "You have everything to gain and not really much to lose. It's in your best interest to help us, if possible."
"Not much to lose?" Quinn echoes, laughing. "And- if possible, I do all these things for you so generously: give up my crew, turn you in- risking my good relationship with Sylvester if she discovers you... what will you- if possible- grant me so generously in return? Surely you don't think that the price of a few heads is worth the Lioness's time? Surely you don't mean to come into my lair and insult me, do you?"
Taken aback, Puck struggles to amend himself. "Of course I don't. Ah- how 'bout a cut of the final haul when we reach the final treasure?" Santana glares daggers at him, clenching her teeth, clenching her fists. He's going to risk all of their lives so he can give the treasure away?
"That's very generous. How much of this cut?"
Puck scratches his chin warily. "Five percent?"
Quinn smirks. "Make it twenty-five."
"Twenty-five?" Santana sputters, but Puck silences her with a raised hand, and she clenches her teeth harder. Her jaw aches.
"Now, Quinn, be reasonable," he offers. "We don't need your aid that badly-"
Quinn waves her hand in dismissal. "Then remove yourselves from my sight and let us speak no further, nor waste more of my very valuable time."
Puck sighs. He does need her help that badly, if they have any chance of executing his plan and not dying, and unfortunately, Quinn knows it. "Perhaps we can spare ten..."
"Twenty."
He sets his jaw. "Fifteen."
She raises her eyebrow. "Nineteen."
He grounds out, "Seventeen-"
And Quinn snaps, "Deal." Grinning, her switch flipping, she shoots a glance at Mercy, then turns back to her visitors. "You are dismissed," she commands. "Make your preparations... we shall meet at first light near Alti island. If you are late, consider our business concluded." She turns to the young girl who's stood, silent, obedient, and observant, next to her during the entire exchange. She whispers something discreet, and then says triumphantly, "Beth, darling, see our guests to the exit, please."
"Of course, Mother." Beth excitedly skips down the steps, grinning.
"Do see to it that my cut arrives once you reach the end of this venture," Quinn warns menacingly in parting as they move towards the door. "Oh- and Brittany?"
Brittany stiffens, turning slowly to the Lionness. "Yes?"
Quinn smiles, showing her teeth dangerously. "Congratulations on your new freedom. Consider my offer carefully, just in case anything turns out... unfavorably."
"As you wish..."
"How dare she?" Santana seethes to herself, staring into the mirror that's fastened to the wall of her sea cabin. Her brown eyes are dark with rage, her blood boiling. She wishes she could punch Quinn right in the face. Her fist closes, her knuckles turning white, but she won't strike the blow- she learned the hard way, long ago, that the walls of her cabin are very unforgiving.
Pacing angrily in her room, she replays the way Quinn had invaded Brittany's space right in front of her, the way they interacted, in her mind, over and over. Brittany seemed scared but there was something else, something that drives her mad with- what? She grabs her head, holding it, trying to sort through her thoughts, to calm, but all she can see is Brittany and Quinn at the Beiste, Brittany leaning comfortably into Quinn's side, their arms around each other. All she can remember is the way Quinn practically eye-fucked Brittany, and how it made her nearly lose her mind. She knows Quinn did it to unhinge her, but Brittany seemed- genuine.
Her stomach turns to ice, her heart plummets as she wonders- does Brittany want Quinn?
The thought makes her feel sick, makes her chest feel tight. She struggles for breath. She tries to deny it but the proof exists in her memory, and she sees Brittany and Quinn together at the Beiste all over again, tormenting her. Would they have fucked if she hadn't stepped in? How much of it did Brittany want?
The thought of Brittany wanting anyone else has the expected effect, and she feels devastated. Involuntary tears begin to form, and she chokes back a sob, her fear and anger overwhelming her to where she feels she might completely drown in it. All at once, the emotions she's been struggling with for the past week finally overtake her, and she collapses to the floor before her desk, crying.
She doesn't want this- this insecurity. It feels awful, and the worst part is that it's her own fault. She's had so many chances to make Brittany hers, completely, and instead she's pushed her away at every opportunity. Yet- still Brittany forgives her, and demonstrates patience and understanding- more than she deserves. Will she ever be brave enough for someone as beautiful and innocent as Brittany, who's everything that's good in such a miserable, stinking world?
Brittany always worries about Santana; it's something that she's done as long as she's known her. The circumstances of her worry have changed drastically over the months of their varying relationships- from worrying about her killing her, to worrying about her liking her, to worrying about her emotional state- but regardless, Brittany's very experienced in the art. So she's not immediately alarmed when Santana doesn't show up to collect her evening meal, because she knows her quartermaster has many preparations to make for the morning when they shall meet Quinn. Her mind is slightly preoccupied with the impending life-threatening situation she's about to be placed in, her own mortality, and an endless list of catastrophic, made-up scenarios that might possibly unfold after sunrise tomorrow.
Once the hour grows later, however, and Kurt retires for the evening after helping her shut down the galley, her worry is renewed with fresh doubts- mainly because she knows, being in slavery, that they might not get many future meals, and it's important for Santana to get proper nourishment before the morning-
Her thoughts shift back to the present as she hears familiar footsteps approaching her, and without looking up from the counter she's wiping down with a rag, she knows they belong to Santana. The heavy quickness of them reveals other details, as well, which she gives voice to once the woman enters the galley.
"You're upset," she states quietly as Santana's steps slow and she comes to stand at an unusual distance from her.
Santana bites her lip at the astute observation- how does Brittany read her so easily? The knowledge spikes her anger higher. "Why would I be upset?"
Brittany finally looks up, her blue eyes concerned, but also slightly hurt by Santana's cold, defensive tone. "You don't like Quinn."
Santana shrugs, indifferent, but not to the obvious pain in Brittany's expression. She knows she's hurting her- she's become somewhat of an expert at it- but her pain and insecurity override her concern for Brittany. "Why should I care who you choose to pine over?" she snaps, but the emotion in her voice betrays her, and Brittany feels her worry growing from the way she hides from her gaze, the way a wounded animal hides from aide.
"Santana," she breathes, her voice soft, unsteady, and when their eyes meet, Santana feels her anger deflate, and she's left with just the pressure in her chest and the sick feeling in her stomach. Brittany can see through her, so why bother to pretend?
"All right, so," she starts, trying to decide where to begin. "You can pursue whomever you want, I just- I'm concerned that Quinn, she's- well, we have this history, and- that's not important, but just be careful, okay?"
Brittany can't help the smile that tugs at the corner of her mouth as she realizes- Santana is jealous. The proof of the lady pirate's feelings makes her stomach do a joyous backflip. "Santana," she repeats, offering a dazzling, reassuring smile, "I don't want Quinn."
The tension in her stomach seems to dissipate at Brittany's words, and Santana visibly relaxes. She's not sure how to respond, except to say, all right. They stare at each other for a moment, so many unspoken emotions passing between them- Brittany tries to analyze what's going on in Santana's head, and Santana tries to coach herself to be brave, to tell Brittany exactly how she feels, but then the moment passes, and Brittany turns away to begin rummaging in a basket near the stove.
"You missed supper," she accuses, pulling out a jar she'd saved with leftover soup from the meal. She wraps her hands around the glass. "It's still warm, but I can heat it up further for you if you'd like-"
"No, Britt, this is perfect," Santana reassures, accepting the jar of soup gingerly, touched beyond measure that Brittany was thinking of her- it makes her feel guilty for imagining her with Quinn.
"I saved you some bread, too." She hands Santana a small cloth bundle containing the few rolls she'd stashed, pleased that they are also still a little warm. "You need to eat- there's no telling how many more meals we will have, come sunrise."
Santana smiles sadly. "If this is to be my last meal, at least it is a good one. Thank you, Brittany." She turns as if to leave, then pauses, gathering her courage. "Would you like to join me?"
"In your cabin?" Brittany asks, surprised. She's not sure she's ever been in Santana's cabin- she doesn't know that she was brought there the day she almost drowned. At Santana's nervous nod, she smiles. "I'd love to, but I can't right now. Can I come by after I finish up here?"
Santana's heart pounds. "Of course."
Brittany continues to smile, her eyes trailing down to Santana's lips almost involuntarily. "Enjoy the soup- I'll see you soon."
Not soon enough, Santana thinks, but she nods and exits the galley.
She'd gulped her soup down in a hurry, using it to wash down chunks of bread. She hadn't realized she'd been starving, but the satisfied feeling she has once she's finished makes her all that more grateful to Brittany for having the foresight to ensure she was well fed- the quality of a great wife.
She freezes as soon as the thought enters her mind. Wife. An absolutely absurd thought! Pirates don't get married, and even if they did, how could she possibly marry another woman? And why would Brittany ever concede to belong to her for eternity? Just because she enjoys her now doesn't mean that what they have isn't fleeting. She could still change her mind, however unlikely it seems in this moment.
She anxiously awaits Brittany's arrival, listening hard for any slight sound, any knock at her door that would indicate she's approaching. She paces, chewing her lip and wondering if it's the appropriate time to give Brittany the knife she had purchased from Jane days ago. Truthfully, their impending mission warrants such a gift- it's a boot knife, after all, and one that will surely come in handy during their future planned captivity. She can't count the number of times her own boot knife has saved her life, and she knows Brittany admired it- coveted it, even- the day they fought in the Gauntlet.
Her gaze shifts to the trunk at the foot of her hammock, where she keeps all her important things, and finally, she decides that there will not be a better time- she may not ever have another opportunity. She digs out the knife from the trunk and places it on the table, trying to work out in her mind what she will say, how Brittany will react, and how she can present it in such a way to show Brittany that she believes in her.
A soft knock on her cabin door sends her pulse racing, and she quickly runs a hand through her dark hair in an effort to ensure her appearance is satisfactory. She calls her familiar, Enter, and Brittany opens the door, her blue eyes bright and a smile forever gracing her pink, tempting lips.
"Hi," she greets.
"Hey," Brittany returns, walking towards her and gently shutting the door. She looks around, taking in the various shelves, and trophies, and things Santana's collected on her many journeys that grace the walls, and Santana can practically see the curiosity burning in her blue, endless eyes. She's suddenly overtaken with the desire to share all of her adventures with Brittany, to tell her of the backstories of her baubles, and then, to bring Brittany to those far-off places, to experience them again with the woman by her side. The powerful feeling nearly takes her breath away. "How was the soup?"
"As expected- pleasing. Thank you, again, for stealing it for me."
Brittany shrugs playfully. "I am a pirate."
Santana laughs. "Very much so."
"But I also know someone in the galley."
When she winks, Santana's breath hitches, and she longs to cross the distance and kiss Brittany- but she holds herself in check. She can't- she must let Brittany make the first move, there are rules-
She bites her lip nervously, turning her gaze towards the knife she left on her desk. She moves slowly towards it, asking, "Are you worried about tomorrow?"
"Yes," Brittany answers honestly, her mood matching the suddenly serious tone of their conversation.
"And you're afraid?" Santana husks. She says it like a secret, and Brittany feels the mood shift to something utterly intimate. She can feel her heart thudding heavily in her chest in response, her breaths coming faster, shallower, as arousal floods her system and excitement charges her senses.
"Is it obvious?" She whispers, afraid to break the spell that's come over them, and Santana holds her gaze for a long, soul-baring moment before she shrugs carelessly. Brittany tries to understand the energy, the electricity between them, tries to understand how Santana can resist her when Brittany feels as if she is about to explode from the depth of the desire pulsing under her skin.
But Santana just smiles at her, her dimple making an appearance, making Brittany's heart ache the way it always does, and then she's murmuring, "Maybe this will help." Brown eyes burn into hers, and then Santana's handing her a small, sheathed knife, leaving her struggling to make sense of everything flowing through her. She stares down at the knife, feeling it's foreign weight in her palm.
A weapon. Her weapon.
She traces her fingers reverently along the hilt, carefully unsheathing the knife to examine the fine, sharp edge and the polished metal she can just barely make out her reflection in. She's not an expert in knives, but she can appreciate the craftsmanship, the skill, the beauty in it, and upon further inspection of the intricate wooden grip, she recognizes the delicate, carved shapes of swallows in flight. She bites her lip, emotion threatening to overwhelm her.
"It's for your boot," Santana says softly from her spot before her. "It's not the deadliest weapon you'll ever own, but mine is invaluable. It's a nice start to your collection."
"It's... incredible," Brittany whispers, tracing her eyes over every fine detail.
"It's made from some of the platinum you found," Santana confesses. "And I, uh- I carved the handle." Brittany raises her gaze to her, speechless. "I'm... really proud of you, Britt."
Brittany smiles, the kind of smile that takes over her whole face and makes Santana's chest feel tight. "Thank you." She gazes deeply into Santana's eyes, willing her to kiss her. Her lips part slightly in anticipation, and she licks them briefly, moistening them, preparing. Santana stares at her lips but doesn't move, and she doubts herself, wondering if perhaps she has something on her face, or her breath smells bad.
"Do you not want to kiss me?" Brittany finally asks.
Santana squeezes her eyes shut. "So badly."
"Then why do you resist? Have I not made it clear that I want you?"
"You- have," Santana manages. "But there are rules-"
"What rules?" Brittany demands, suddenly frustrated. "Why must you follow rules?"
Santana sighs, exasperated. "Because I've never done this before. I don't know how to be with you; I don't know what I should be doing-"
"I don't want you to court me, Santana, I want you to treat me as your equal."
"But you're not."
Brittany feels her stomach drop, and Santana realizes the context of her words. She struggles to explain, stumbling over herself, "I mean, you're so far from me-"
Brittany narrows her eyes in warning. "Am I?"
Santana cringes. Her explaining is not going well at all. "No- yes, I just- Britt, you're royalty. A princess," she admits, sad and wistful. "And in your world, I'm just the careful daughter of a careless man, lost at sea. I'm nothing to you."
"But we aren't in my world," Brittany reminds softly. "We are in your world- where I am a newly freed slave and the lowest pirate on the Tide Ripper, and you are the Quartermaster, second in command to the Captain." She reaches for Santana's hands, holding them in both of hers. "And, honey- you're everything to me. So does it matter so much what world we reside in?"
"For everyone else, it does."
"But for us?"
Santana stares down at Brittany's hands holding hers, shaking her head slowly, allowing herself for the first time to believe. "I suppose it doesn't."
"I care for you, Santana," Brittany breathes, moving closer. "We can make our own world- if you would just let me inside your heart..."
"Brittany," she says, her voice hoarse with emotion. She finds Brittany's eyes. "You're already there." She reaches up to cup Brittany's face, stroking her cheek as she leans forward to capture her lips. Santana feels as if her body might explode the moment that Brittany melts into her kiss. Suddenly everything makes sense; suddenly a great pressure has been lifted from her shoulders. Not everything is worked out, and there's a very real chance that they could die tomorrow, but she knows, in this moment, Brittany is hers- and that's enough.
They will make their own world.
Brittany's fingers tangle in her hair, and Santana finds herself pressed against her tightly, her arms wrapped around her, keeping her close. The desire to be closer, to push herself into Brittany's body, overtakes her, and she kisses Brittany harder, moaning into her mouth when her lips part and her tongue swipes forward. When they finally part with a shuddering breath, Santana worries that Brittany can hear how loud her heart is pounding- it's never beat that hard before. They take a few deep, calming breaths, their eyes never breaking contact, until finally, Brittany places one last, soft kiss on Santana's lips before she pulls back a little, using the space to clear her head.
"So are you going to show me how to use this thing?" she asks to distract herself, gesturing to the knife she'd laid on the desk in the moment.
"Did David not train you in boot knives?" Santana teases, picking up the knife and expertly drawing it, then twirling it in her hand to show off.
"I can't say he did, considering it's not a very commonly found weapon," Brittany says with a roll of her eyes.
Santana smirks, slipping the knife back into its sheath. "Don't worry, Princess, I'll take care of you." Smoothly, she sinks down to her knees before Brittany, reaching for her right calf and holding it steady in her right palm. Carefully, she slides the small, thin, sheathed knife into her boot, making sure the tiny metal hook catches on the lip to hold it in place. The design hides the hilt completely in the boot, making the weapon invisible to an outside eye, and Santana's impressed at how seamlessly it fits, and how much better she feels knowing that Brittany at least has something to protect herself with- David was, as usual, right. Once the knife is snugly secured, Santana subconsciously presses an innocent kiss to the inside of Brittany's right calf.
The sound of Brittany's breath catching above her sends a sharp thrill down Santana's spine, however- prompting her to press a second, much less innocent, kiss on the inside of Brittany's knee. Instantly Brittany's fingers are in her hair, combing through the dark locks, petting her head, encouraging, and Santana moves to kiss her inner thigh, her pulse speeding up, her stomach tightening in anticipation.
She looks up, and her dark, fervent eyes meet Brittany's swirling, midnight blue ones, and before she can register her own actions, she's reaching for Brittany's belt buckle, fumbling with the laces on her pants, tugging them open and down, down to her knees, exposing her to her hungry eyes. She breathes in, inhaling Brittany's unique scent, and then she kisses her newly-bare thigh, her tongue slipping out to taste at her skin and causing Brittany to squirm, the muscle tensing, flexing beneath her tongue. She licks up her thigh, closer to her sex, tasting the arousal that's already smeared there, and Brittany groans low in her throat when her mouth finally reaches her dripping entrance and her tongue darts out to lick at it.
The sound of Brittany cursing is like fuel to Santana's fire, if only because the woman does it so rarely. Her tongue swirls, creating teasing patterns on Brittany's sex, and Brittany's fingers wind tighter into her hair, holding her head captive where she needs her. Santana swallows the overwhelming amount of wetness coming from Brittany, who moans and fights to suck in air above her, her thighs beginning to tremble. Santana focuses on her clit, stroking her tongue hard over the throbbing nub, and Brittany cries out, gasping, struggling to support herself against the edge of the desk as Santana begins to suck her.
"No bed, Quartermaster?" She manages, breathless, and Santana pauses to lick her lips and answer,
"Never needed one before now." Santana kisses her soaked thigh before she bites her there, sucking a bruise into her skin, marking her, and Brittany's heart flutters at the knowledge that she's the only one who's ever been in Santana's cabin like this. As Santana renews the attack on her clit, sucking the life out of her, Brittany's adrenaline spikes as fleeting thoughts of the coming days enter her mind.
If she's going to die, at least she will take the memory of Santana's mouth between her legs with her into the afterlife.
"I really don't like this plan," David mutters to her as he accepts both of her swords to hold down in the armory for safekeeping while she's imprisoned. "Not at all."
"Is there any other way?" Santana sighs. "I don't like it, either." She glances across the deck at Brittany, who has stripped down to her undergarments- thin, very short shorts and a chest wrap- and boots, mirroring Santana's own state of dress. Memories of the previous night come back to her, and the taste of Brittany's release, which still lingers in her mouth and in her mind. She's reminded of the passion of Brittany's mouth right after, how she'd kissed her, and the slow, easy comfort of settling down beside each other and just breathing in each other's warmth and presence, and it sets her at ease. Santana had never felt so at peace, despite the unsatisfied desire simmering within her and the way she ignited under every gentle touch. She had enjoyed Brittany's company and conversation long into the night, only finally parting due to the demands of their bodies and the need for rest- but they had met early that morning to share one final breakfast together before they came above deck to prepare for their enslavement.
Mike carefully measures rope to tie around her wrists, and she feels her confidence starting to slip as the unnerving blood red sails of Quinn's ship come into view, growing larger as they draw closer. It only takes minutes for the looming black ship to pull up alongside and moor to them; Puck greets Quinn with enthusiasm from his spot on deck, which the Lioness blatantly ignores, but Santana's not in the mood to make nice. She tries to focus on staying calm and sharp-minded for the upcoming mission, but instead, her mind focuses on the way Brittany's hips bucked against her mouth last night.
"It's time," David tells her, placing his hand on her shoulder and bringing her back to her impending doom. "Be careful. We'll be right outside Sylvester's territory, waiting to blast you out. I don't care who I have to go through, San- I promise I'll get you all out of there."
Santana offers him a grateful, reassuring smile, touched by his concern. "I know you will- but you won't need to. We are gonna be fine."
"I hope so."
"Take care of them."
"You, too."
She crosses the bridge between the two ships and when her boots touch the deck of Quinn's ship, the Blood Siren, her optimism instantly disperses. Especially when Quinn offers up the crew members she will be contributing to the mission- Kitty and Marley.
"You have got to be kidding me," Sugar complains with a roll of her eyes. Santana mostly agrees with her, but she doesn't want to risk Quinn's betrayal by making her angry. She holds her tongue- she will have plenty to say once this whole ordeal is over.
She nearly throws it all away, however, when she catches Quinn checking Brittany out in her undergarments. Red blurs her vision and she imagines kicking her over the side- but the bitch would probably recover from that. She definitely needs to kill her first.
She's so caught up in her fantasy that she's taken completely off guard when a bucket of muddy, foul water is thrown onto her, and she coughs as it invades her senses. "What the hell," she growls, reaching up to wipe her eyes and mouth free of the rotten water- as free as she can with muck-covered hands.
"You looked too clean to be slaves," Quinn shrugs. Puck nods in agreement, flashing her an apologetic smile, and Santana can only clench her teeth and glare as the same treatment is given to Brittany, Sugar, Kitty and Marley, though the latter smiles with glee, laughing wildly as the mud trickles down her face. Shaking with rage and nerves, her confidence level plummeted to an all-time low, she's feeling far less positive about going into the mouth of the beast with someone so obviously touched in the head, but she reminds herself that she has no choice. For a second, she considers vetoing the plan, or quitting, and taking Brittany and fleeing to Argo. But then she looks across the deck to her ship, spying David, Mike, Matt, Kurt, and all their other crew who had come to see them off, watching them with worried eyes, and she resigns herself to stick to the plan. Even if it costs her her life- she can't leave them. She can only ensure that Brittany and the others come back safely- there's no other choice. She steels her resolve.
"Ready?" Quinn asks without caring for an answer, and Santana pauses to catch Brittany's eyes, which are steady, giving nothing away. Moments later, Mercy is hustling them down the ladder and into the hold, where they will sit and wait for hours, dirty and shivering, rocking hard with the small ship as it speeds towards its undesirable destination.
Santana sits across from Brittany in the stuffy, humid hold area, exchanging gazes. She wonders how Brittany can remain so calm and collected in the face of their quickly-approaching demise, but maybe it's because she does not know what they are in for, or what could go wrong, the way she does. She doesn't know Sisyp, or Sue Sylvester. Santana would've wanted to spare her that knowledge forever, if she could've.
Sugar leans against Brittany's shoulder, her eyes closed, and Santana feels a spike of rage towards Puck for putting her through this- it must've triggered memories from before she was Brittany's slave. "Shashaiti," she mutters under her breath, worried about the girl, "are you all right?"
Sugar's eyes flutter open suddenly and she looks as if she's about to take flight- then those eyes focus on Santana, surprised. "I am fine, Master. I'm dreaming of extracting my long overdue revenge on those who would try to keep us enslaved."
Brittany cracks a small smile, which causes Santana to smile, too, despite her anxiety. A loud, cackling laugh emits from Marley's spot, near the ladder, and Santana again feels uneasy about having her along; what if she blows their cover?
"No, that's the wrong reaction," Kitty tells her. "We don't want to be here."
As if on cue, Marley lets out a wail of distress, and Kitty nods approvingly. "Yes, that's right."
Santana takes a deep breath. It's still hours to Sisyp.
"Up now," Mercy calls as she comes down to finally fetch them. "We're almos' to da mout'."
They scramble to their feet, as best they can with the ship still rocking violently from the heavy waves. Santana thinks she dozed off for a little while, but she can't remember, her thoughts a giant tangle. Mercy climbs up first, signaling for them to come up, and Kitty and Marley ascend the ladder, Marley eager to commence the mission. While they wait for their turn, Brittany moves close to Santana, taking her pinky in hers briefly for reassurance.
"Be careful, Britt," Santana murmurs. "I- don't want to lose you."
Brittany turns to look into her eyes, smiling at the admission as Sugar begins her climb. "You can't get rid of me that easy; I'll see you up there." She kisses her cheek quickly, ignoring the taste of the mud, before she reaches for the ladder. Santana watches her go for a moment, her thoughts racing; then she follows her up last, the knot in her chest winding tighter and tighter.
When she reaches the main deck, one of the girls on Quinn's crew begins binding her hands with the rope Mike had measured, tying them tightly together in front of her with a special knot. Within moments the rough rope rubs her wrists raw, and she wishes it wasn't so tight, but their performance has to be believable, or she knows they don't stand a chance at making it out alive.
Gazing around at her surroundings, she can start to make out the Mouth of Sisyp- two tall, opposing cliff-rocks that form a narrow sea lane through to the small bay of the forsaken island. She takes a deep, shivering breath as the large, signature spikes- meant to deter visitors- come into view, marking the entrance. It's almost time.
She has a very, very bad feeling.
AHH! Shit's happening! XD
Review if you want to say hi! I shall hopefully see you guys again with an update by the end of the year, and hopefully not as overwhelmingly long :) :) :)
*HOT TAKE- it's too bad I stopped giving a fuck about Glee after TBU, because I actually really like the season 6 kids. FIGHT ME.
More of them might show up in future chapters, but I guess we shall see! Jane is everything.
When did you guys give up on Glee? I only watched the Brittana parts after TBU so I don't even know, like, half the songs that they covered. L O L
Take care! :D