Author's Note: I SO enjoy reading the theories you guys have about what's going to happen next, who the fourth alien is, what the pendant is, what Quinn's deal is, etc. I promise, all will be revealed in good time! Thank you, thank you all for reading, and for your reviews, they're much appreciated!
The remainder of Santana's weekend was spent primarily in bed, primarily with her mother breathing down her neck, and primarily trying to convince said mother that she was fine, a rough feat, considering she was still having some difficulty breathing, and she still had a nasty bruise just about the size of New Mexico taking up space on her abdomen. In between frequent check-ins from Maribel Lopez, whose adherence to her husband's suggestions was short lived, Santana continuously googled the names on Hummel's list, time and again finding no viable information on the "suspects." It wasn't that she truly expected to (it's not like there was some kind of Internet database of beings from other planets) but she felt powerless in her bed, and all she truly wanted was to be able to do something useful to aid Brittany and the others.
By Monday afternoon, after her mother forced her to stay home from school, Santana resorted to drastic measures, drastic measures that were in no way related to the desire to check in on a woman named after the fourth month of the year, not at all. Holding her breath, she picked up the phone and called her Aunt Sara, hoping maybe, just maybe the one person in her family who was always on her side would be able to help her with two of the tasks she wanted to participate in.
"Thank you for calling the office of Dr. Sara Lopez, how may I help you?" The chipper woman on the other end answered, and Santana couldn't help but smile.
"Aunt Sara! You still don't have caller ID in your office?"
"I've been doing just fine without if for twenty years, thank you very much. How's my favorite niece?"
"You mean your only niece." Santana retorted, and Sara laughed.
"Trust me, my sugar baby, I could have fifty nieces, and you'd still be my number one. So to what do I owe the honor of this phone call? You're usually too busy with cheerleading, and school, and having to do everything your father tells you to have time to talk to your old aunt."
"Tell me how you really feel." She laughed, always appreciating the fact that her aunt was the only one who didn't cower to her older brother's expectations, and made no bones about her disagreement with his expectations for Santana. "And I don't believe for a second that no one called you and told you about what my mother seems to think is a life threatening injury."
"Oh, they called me, I've just been waiting to hear how it really is from you."
"Hurts like hell." Santana shifted a little uncomfortably in her bed. "But I'm also bored out of my mind, and I want you to tell them that I'll be totally fine if I go on my school camping trip this weekend."
"A camping trip? With bruised ribs? You know how ridiculous that sounds, right?"
"Please, Aunt Sara? It's really, really important for me to go, and I promise that I won't do any rock climbing, or kayaking, or whatever it is that people do on camping trips." Santana begged, sounding like a small child.
"Well, the fact that you don't know what people do on camping trips leads me to believe that this has zero to do with camping, and a whole lot to do with a girl you've got your eye on." Sara chuckled, and Santana blushed, even though she couldn't be seen through the phone. "Spill it, I want to know everything."
"It's really complicated..."
"Isn't it always? Come on, convince me that you need to go on this trip, and maybe I'll use this MD of mine to convince your parents."
"I was actually thinking that maybe I'd come out there, you could actually look at my stupid ribs, and then you could meet her, if you wanted."
"You want me to meet her? This is more serious than I thought."
"I really...she's really important to me." Santana was shy with her words, but she grinned to herself, thinking of Brittany, thinking of how much she wanted to shout from the rooftops how she felt, but how she couldn't. "It's complicated right now, we can't really be together-together in Roswell, but I thought maybe, I don't know, it would be nice for us to come there for the afternoon and just be for a little bit, without all kinds of eyes on us."
"Oh, my little Santana, I figured it was only a matter of time before you fell hard for someone that was still in the closet." Sara assumed, and Santana didn't correct her, because that seemed like as good of an excuse as any for why she and Brittany had to be with each other in secret. "She must really be something else."
"She is." Santana mooned. "She's kind of out of this world. You're going to love her."
"Does this out of this word, important girl who's got you all shmoopy have a name?"
"Brittany. Brittany Pierce."
"Pierce as in-"
"Yeah, Pierce as in." Santana cut her off, forgetting that in their own way, the name recognition of Brittany and Sam Pierce was as great as her own around Roswell, and she began to feel her heart race. "But my parents don't know, and-"
"I've got it, not a word about the little desert girl." Sara promised, calling Brittany by one of the dozen names that she'd been called in the paper. "I'll deal with Maribel, I'll tell her I'd like to see you for myself tomorrow after school. She has bowling on Tuesdays, right?"
"She does, you're the best, Aunt Sara. Thank you, thank you, I love you!"
"I know I am. Glad I can put my eight years of schooling to better use than just treating old men's boils all day. I'll see you and Miss Out Of This World Brittany Pierce tomorrow then. Love you, sugar baby."
Ending the call, Santana did a tiny, dorky victory dance in her bed, then winced at the pain it caused to radiate down her side and almost into her pelvis, before she flopped back on her pillows and opened a text message to Brittany, excited to tell her that they had an actual valid reason to be in Ruidoso, an actual valid reason to be semi-close to April, though they still had to finalize the plan for knocking on her door that they'd been working on the night before, and secretly even more excited that her Aunt Sara, basically her favorite person in the entire world, would get to meet the girl who was coming in at a very close second.
Brittany was sitting in the front seat of the car, driving back to her house with Sam and Quinn when she got the text message, and she did her own little dance at the news, garnering a goofy look from Sam, and an epic eye roll from Quinn, that Brittany immediately caught in the makeup mirror than she'd left flipped down. Santana was getting them to Ruidoso, Santana wanted her to meet her aunt, an actual person who they didn't gave to hide from, and Santana was basically awesome and amazing at everything (and with that thought, Brittany realized that maybe Quinn's roll of the eyes wasn't totally unwarranted).
"This actually concerns you too, Quinn." Brittany tried not to snap. "I'm going to Santana's aunt's house tomorrow, and I'm going to check out that April woman."
"You don't think it's a little obvious, suddenly going there right after we busted into Hummel's office and stole his list?"
"Maybe, if Santana didn't just get seriously injured, and didn't happen to have an aunt who's a doctor, and maybe if Hummel actually knew I was going. Her being there, not in flashing neon spaceship, is no more obvious than our sudden interest in the camping trip. Look, it doesn't matter, the sheriff already thinks it's me, and there isn't much he can do about it without red flagging himself as another crazy alien hunter. We need to find them before he does."
"When did you become the boss of this anyway?"
"When I came up with the plan. If it's not April, and it's not the guy on the reservation, then you guys can go to Las Cruces next week, and I'll cover things here. But right now, this is what's happening, and I don't really care what you have to say about it, Quinn."
"You know, Brittany, you suddenly have more balls than I give you credit for." Quinn sat back in her seat, unable to come up with a retort. "I'm not going to lie and say I'm not impressed."
"Well thanks. But can you maybe not say that balls thing in front of Santana? I think you already freaked her out a little when you said that thing about me thinking with my dick."
"Britt." Sam cut in with a chuckle. "I'm pretty sure you could grow a dick in the middle of your face, and Santana would still be in love with you."
"First, gross, Sam, seriously. Second, she's not in love with me."
"Right. She practically drools when you speak, she's so in love with you." Sam singsonged. "Brittany and Santana, sitting in a tree-"
"Seriously, stop." Quinn groaned. "You're not five years old, and I'd personally rather hear about the penis face than hear you sing that ridiculous song. Whatever, go to your girlfriend's doctor's appointment with her like you're some old, married, boring couple, but if you even have an inkling that this lady is the fourth alien, you better call us immediately, because you don't get to have everything to yourself."
"Do you really think I would do that? Of course I'm going to call you, I don't even know the first thing that I'd do if she's the one. You're much better at questions than I am, Quinn, and this isn't my find, it's just the most feasible that I check it out first." Brittany dropped the defensiveness and tried to disarm Quinn. "Look, Santana's parents obviously don't know I'm going, because I'm pretty sure they don't even know my name. She's going to borrow her mom's car and drive there, so I'll come up with an excuse for mom and dad, and then you guys need to keep an eye on Hummel. You're just as much a part of it as I am."
"And you're like, really meeting Santana's aunt?" Sam asked, sort of changing the subject before Quinn could throw something back at Brittany, and they could continue on for hours, debating the merits of a plan that seemed perfectly fine to him. "I mean, I know that's not really the big issue here right now, but it's still kind of big for you, Britt."
"I know." Brittany gave him a half smile, as Quinn shoved headphones into her ears, not wanting to hear yet another round of the Santana gushing. "I mean, this lady is closer to her than even her mom, and she wants her to meet me. I don't even know what to wear, or how to act, or anything. She said that we'll be outside of Roswell, and it can be something real for us. What does that even mean, Sam?"
"It means she's got it bad for you, sis, it means she totally wants to marry you and have a dozen little tiny half-alien babies with you." Sam teased, and Brittany smacked his bicep. "Ow. Look, just be yourself, I mean, don't really be yourself, because not everyone is Santana Lopez, who barely flinched when you told her you were descended from a line of little green men, but you know what I mean. She wouldn't be bringing you there if she wasn't crazy about who you are. Also, don't wear a dress, because it looks like you're trying too hard."
"How do you know this stuff?" Brittany furrowed her brow, and Sam's cheeks colored.
"Look, sometimes I watch chick flicks, okay? I figure that is the way to get to the ladies."
"Says the guy who just told me to be myself. Mercedes thinks your dorkiness is cute, Santana told me so herself, and she also told me that I could tell you that. Just give her some time. Like you said, some people still need time to adjust to this not of this earth thing."
"Thanks, Britt." Sam smiled and threw a look back to Quinn. "So what do you think the odds are that the fourth alien comes with someone for her, so she can chill out a little?"
"I can hear you, dumbass." Quinn snipped. "And if they did, I can promise you, I wouldn't be sitting here talking about what to wear to meet the family while we're literally moments away from finding out everything we've ever wanted to know about our existence."
"Sometimes existence is more than just knowing about the past." Brittany said quietly, not really wanting to anger the beast, but also wanting her to think about it. "Sometimes it's about trying to make a future."
"Okay, Yoda, I'll keep that in mind." Quinn tried to sound harsh, but both Sam and Brittany could hear the slightest softness, an almost sense of wist behind it, and they exchanged the briefest eye contact, having one of those rare, rare moments where they thought maybe, just maybe the third member of their trio wasn't as different from them as she liked them to believe (and that she most likely convinced herself to believe).
Neither was sure how it had become a thing, those visits where Brittany would sneak into Santana's room after dark, and they'd stay up late and talk (and kiss, but nothing too hot and heavy, nothing enough to make Santana see things, because Brittany was so concerned about the human girl's injury), and then Santana would anxiously wait for the text message that told her that Brittany was home safe in her own bed, but it had, and after yet another, Santana spent her first day back at school a little bleary-eyed and guzzling coffee, glad that her doctor's note excused her from gym class, and she could have the entire period to nap in the nurse's office. After she finished biology class, where the majority of the period was spend attempting mostly unsuccessfullyto ignore the burning feeling of Brittany's eyes on the back of her neck (Brittany, who looked radiant and alive as usual, though Santana wasn't sure how), Santana made her way down the hall, and pushed open the door to the office.
"Welcome to the school nurse, how can I be of medical service to you today?" A saccharine cheery blonde greeted her, and Santana was take aback.
"Um, you're not the nurse." Tumbled out of her mouth, before she could control herself, and she felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle.
"Well that's no way to greet me." The woman pouted, actually pouted. "She took a fall down the stairs the other day, and it was just lucky enough that my fiancé just got transferred into this district and told me about the job opening. I'm Terri, or, I guess you're supposed to call me Nurse Delmonico."
"Right, okay. I'm Santana Lopez, my name is supposed to be on a list, or something. I have to sit out from gym, there's a doctor's note on file."
"Oh so you're Santana. Excellent. Do you want some pain killers? Or maybe some vitamins? I even have a stool softener." Terri lowered her voice to a whisper. "You know, it's not good if you strain when you have business to do, especially when you're already injured."
"I'm sorry, no offense, but are you actually a nurse? Because I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to just offer me a bunch of pills."
"How rude of you to ask that!" She looked scandalized, and sat down at the desk, pulling out a nail file, and Santana figured as much. "Of course I'm not a nurse. I'm just doing this until my fiancé finally takes a break from his busy career and we make things official, then I'm done with this working business. Bryan's got a great job, I'll have you know, working for the New Mexico State Board of Education, and he has excellent insurance, so when we have babies, I won't have to pay a single dime."
"That's, um, that's really great for you." Santana nodded, understanding more fully why they'd actually let her take over as a nurse, with pull from someone on the state board, though not entirely comfortable with it. While the woman continued to stare at her with a forced smile, Santana was completely stumped as to what she was supposed to say to someone who seemed like she might be just a few cards short of a full deck. "So, I'm just going to lay down now."
"So then you don't want any of those pills?"
"No, I'm good, thanks for offering."
As Santana lied down on the mostly uncomfortable cot and closed her eyes, she thought about the afternoon ahead, thought about how her aunt would take to Brittany, and then came to the crippling realization that it might not even matter what Sara thought, that maybe none of what was going on between her and Brittany would actually matter. If April, or Howard, or Dustin, or whoever the fourth alien turned out to be told them that they were here for some higher purpose, that they weren't here simply by force of accident, that Brittany had bigger things to do than make Santana see stars, almost purely by existing, if they told them that they had to leave earth, leave the only life they remembered, then Santana wasn't sure how she could cope. Feeling a little sick to her stomach at the thought, Santana almost wished she didn't feel so attached, almost wished that she wasn't falling hard and fast for that incredible alien girl, but she knew it didn't matter, knew that it was too late, and knew that if she was ripped away from her, her heart, her soul, her very being might never recover. At the thought, the very terror of the notion, she let out a deep, involuntary sigh, and she heard the pretend nurse stand and walk over to look at her.
"You're not dying, are you? Because I really don't want to have to deal with a body on my first day here."
"No, I'm not dying." Santana rolled her eyes, because seriously?
"Oh, good! Then you're probably thinking what I'm thinking, that it's really weird that we're both in here together and not saying a word to each other."
"Ummm..."
"So since you know about my fiancé, Bryan Ryan, why don't you tell me about yourself." Terri sat down beside Santana on the crinkled white paper, and the younger girl stifled a groan. "Do you have a boyfriend?"
"Uh, yeah, listen, I don't really know you well enough to talk about this." Santana sat up and distanced herself. "Actually, I don't even know you at all."
"Well that's no reason not to indulge in a little girl talk. Besides, it's like, doctor-patient privilege, or something, I can't tell anyone anything you tell me anyway. I mean, I might tell my sister, but that doesn't count, because we're twins, so we're basically the same person."
"Yeah, you haven't really made me feel any more comfortable about this. Sorry, no offense."
"According to your doctor's note, you're out of gym for at least two weeks, with another note to follow. I'll wear you down eventually. Maybe tomorrow I'll bring some spinach dip, that seems like fun." Terri offered. "Do you like spinach dip?"
"Umm…yeah, I guess." Santana raised an eyebrow, actually feeling bad for the woman so desperate for companionship that she was dying to talk to a teenager, but not bad enough that she'd actually start telling her anything revealing. "Okay, do you watch The Real Housewives? Because we can talk about that."
"Oh my God, of course I do. Can you believe what Ramona did to Aviva?"
They continued like that for the rest of the period, with Santana avoiding Terri's strangely invasive questions by directing her back to pop culture, and she breathed a sigh of relief when the bell rang, and she'd never been so happy to get back to class. By the end of the day though, the encounter was almost entirely forgotten, as was the bout of panic she'd experienced about what might happen. When she pulled her mom's car up to where she was meeting Brittany, nothing else mattered but getting that girl in the car with her, nothing else mattered but driving far enough out of Roswell that she could full on kiss the blonde on the lips, without worrying about anyone seeing them, and Santana felt her entire body tingle at the mere thought of it.
"Hi." Brittany beamed as she climbed into the passenger seat. "How was your first day back? How are you feeling? Are you sure you're okay to drive all the way to Ruidoso?"
"Want to throw in like five more questions?" Santana teased, subtly upturning her hand on the center console, a silent signal that Brittany immediately read, placing her hand on top and lacing their fingers together, making both girls feel better than they had in the nineteen hours they'd been apart (not that either of them were counting). "Good, okay, and yes."
"Hmm?" Brittany had fallen into a momentary trance, staring at Santana, and the human girl just laughed. "Oh, the answers to my questions."
"You're such a goof. Of course the answers to your questions. How was your day?"
"Much better now." She squeezed Santana's hand, and those tingles came back in full force. "You're sure you want to do this? You don't have to feel like you need to do something that could be dangerous, just because you want to help me."
"Britt, a million armed aliens couldn't keep me away."
"Not funny." Brittany scowled, and then softened at the sparkle in Santana's eye. "If there are a million armed aliens and you don't run, I'm leaving you there."
"So rude, so rude Pierce."
They rode in a comfortable silence for awhile, Santana internally noting how her pain really did feel less when Brittany was close by, and Brittany just watching Santana's every move, enjoying the deep, furrowed brow look of concentration on her face as she drove. When they were about ten minutes out into the desert, Brittany gave Santana a quizzical look as she pulled the car to the side of the road, and Santana just grinned, turning as best as she could in her seat so that they were facing one another.
"Santana, what are we-" Brittany's question was immediately cut off by soft lips on hers, and if it had been anyone other than Santana, she would had been mortified at the gasp she released simply from the mere swipe of a tongue against her lower lip.
"Hi." Santana giggled, breathless, as she left just a hair of space between their lips when she pulled away. "We're stopping because I couldn't wait any longer to do that. You look really, really pretty."
"Thanks." Brittany blushed furiously, tucking her hair behind her ear and then brushing her lips over Santana's again. "I didn't really know what to wear, and I wanted to impress your aunt, so..."
"It's perfect. You're really...beautiful, and please don't worry about Aunt Sara. She's like the coolest person you'll ever meet, and she's going to love you Britt." It was Santana's turn to blush, feeling funny at the use of that word, even if she wasn't saying it the way she maybe, kind of, sort of was starting to feel, even if she was pretty sure that was insane.
"Okay. I'm sure I'm going to love her too. I just know that she's really important to you, so it's important to me."
"You really are the cutest." Santana slowly, reluctantly pulled away, knowing that they really needed to get going, knowing that they were already pushing their luck with Maribel Lopez not losing her mind, especially with the time their second stop would take, and if she kissed Brittany again, she might not be able to stop.
The remaining hour of their drive passed quickly, with Santana remembering the ridiculousness of the Terri Delmonico incident, and making Brittany genuinely belly laugh with her impressions of the woman offering to make spinach dip, and Brittany taking pride in her ability to make Santana smile so wide that her dimples popped. While Brittany was still nervous in the passenger seat, she was also beyond glad to have a distraction from something that she knew she should be more worrisome about, the thing that threatened to alter her existence far more than meeting Santana's aunt, and having Santana's hand to squeeze worked wonders at calming her significantly about both. When they reached Sara Lopez's house, after driving up into significantly higher altitudes, Brittany was surprised by what she saw, surprised that the sister of Santana's father, who seemed to love being right in the center of small-town life, could possibly live so isolated from that in what was basically a large, modern cabin on the side of a mountain.
"I know." Santana smiled, almost reading Brittany's mind. "This is why I love coming here, it's nothing like home."
"Yeah, I can tell. It's pretty amazing."
"C'mon, let's go inside, it's even better in there." Santana opened the door to her car, and before Brittany could even gather her thoughts, appeared at her side, opening the door for her, and shyly holding out her hand. "Only if you feel comfortable."
"I do. I feel more comfortable holding your hand than doing almost anything else." Brittany murmured, then almost immediately mentally smacked herself for sounding like Sam. "I'm sorry, that sounded like such a line, and was awful."
"I hope it was still true though." Santana shrugged, and pecked Brittany's cheek, not even needing to hear her answer before leading her up to the door and ringing the bell.
"Santana? If that's you, come inside, the door is open! If it's not you, I lied, the door is locked and I have an angry guard dog behind it, and I also have a gun." A voice called from inside, and Brittany's eyes widened as Santana laughed.
"Aunt Sara, please don't scare Brittany before she even meets you." She swung open the door and tugged Brittany into the living room, where the tall, dark haired woman who looked more like an older version of Santana than Brittany could have ever expected stood at the stove, stirring one pot furiously as the other burned on the back burner. "Are you cooking? You don't even know how to cook!"
"You also don't even bring guests with you to see me, besides Mercedes, but she doesn't count. I thought maybe I'd try something out for this occasion, and it failed miserably. When you get home to your father, tell him this can be added to the list of reasons why it's a damn good thing I didn't go into the Lopez family business." Sara turned around and pushed the hair out of her face, her eyes lighting up when she saw Brittany. "Come hug me, sugar baby, then introduce me to your friend."
"Shut up." Santana laughed into her aunt's ear, wrapping her arms around her and hugging her gently, careful with her ribs. "Aunt Sara, this is my…this is Brittany." She quickly corrected herself before saying something presumptuous, and she didn't catch the flicker of excitement in Brittany's eyes. "Britt, this is my aunt, Sara Lopez."
"Dr. Lopez, thank you so much for having me over, you really didn't have to go through any trouble cooking for me, I'm just really glad to be able to meet you."
"Don't you Dr. Lopez me, Brittany." Sara hugged Brittany, taking her completely by surprise. "I'm just Aunt Sara to everyone, or Sara, if you think that's too personal."
"Okay, Aunt Sara." Brittany tried out, blushing, all the while making Santana feel all kinds of warm and fuzzy inside. "It's really nice out here, I love your house."
"It's about as different from Roswell as you can get, isn't it?" She turned off the stove and ushered the girls over to the love seat (with Santana rolling her eyes at the wry look on her face). "Santana, lift up your shirt."
"Right now?"
"Yes, right now. Do you want to go camping this weekend or not? Let me see to what degree your mother is exaggerating this." Sara coaxed, standing in front of them, and Santana stopped the subtle running of her finger up and down the outside of Brittany's thigh long enough to lean against the back of the couch and slowly drag up the hem of her t-shirt. Brittany didn't want to look, she really didn't want to, because it caused her physical pain to see what she couldn't heal, but she couldn't tear her eyes away, and Santana turned quickly to look into them. "It's getting better."
"It still looks really bad." Brittany mumbled, and then gasped at herself, realizing that Santana's aunt was going to think that she'd seen her naked, and while she wanted to (God, she wanted to so bad), that was not the kind of first impression she'd wanted to make. "I asked her to show me it, because she was in so much pain, and…"
"Brittany, relax. It doesn't matter to me why you've seen it, I'm glad she has you keeping an eye on it, because my niece is as stubborn as they come, and she'd probably lose an arm and still try to tell me she's fine. You two are teenagers, I didn't need to go to medical school to learn about hormones."
"Ew, Aunt Sara." Santana scrunched up her nose, but her mind was immediately cleared when Sara pressed against her ribs, and she squealed in pain, clamping her hand down on Brittany's, and making her shake with the pain she felt osmotically. "Ugh, that hurts."
"No, really? Santana, it looks like someone took a baseball bat to your side. You made it through today without taking any painkillers?"
"Just Tylenol…I wanted to drive, so-"
"Santana, I would have driven here, or we could have come another day. I didn't even think about the painkillers." Brittany suddenly felt awful for not even realizing that Santana wouldn't have been able to take them, but Santana quickly took up her hand again and rubbed her thumb on the inside of her wrist.
"Britt, if it was really bad, I would have taken one, I'm okay, as long as no one is jabbing me there." She glared at Sara. "But thank you, for worrying about me. If it gets bad later, I have them with me, and you can drive home, okay?"
"Yeah, okay." Brittany agreed softly, almost forgetting where they were, almost leaning over and pressing a kiss to the corner of Santana's mouth, before she thought better of it and backed away. "But seriously, don't push yourself too much, please."
"She's right. I'm going to tell your mother you can go this weekend, but don't be an idiot."
After Santana's examination was done, and Sara tossed her ruined pots in the trash, she came to sit with the girls, smiling to herself about their attempts (and failures) at being subtle with how much they cared for one another. When she caught Brittany glancing around at the pictures in the house, ones that just so happened to be of young Santana, she not-so-discreetly pulled out one of her old photo albums, and smirked a little to herself as Santana squirmed in her seat. While Brittany gently flipped through the pages of the album, Sara told her about why she called her niece sugar baby, about how even when her father complained that she was difficult and cried all the time, the moment she was in Aunt Sara's arms, she was as sweet as could be, and she'd tease her brother, telling him that it was all him, that little Santana was always as sweet as sugar for her. When Brittany came to a page with pictures from the turn of the millennium celebration at the diner (long before she herself had emerged from incubation), she laughed out loud, finding one of a two year old Santana wearing those brightly colored glasses, shaped like the number 2000, sitting on the counter and pressing her tiny lips to an inflatable alien's cheek. Though Santana's cheeks burned, when Brittany reached down and squeezed her hand, sending shivers up her spine, she ended up laughing right along, appreciating her young self's interest in aliens as much as Brittany did.
"I like her." Sara said, after Brittany excused herself go use the bathroom. "I like her a lot. She's good for you."
"You do?" An involuntary smile crept onto Santana's lips, and she turned her head just slightly toward the direction of the bathroom.
"Yeah, I do. I've never seen you like this, when you're here with your father, you're usually strung so tightly, and when you're here without him, you're usually angry about something he's expecting of you. Today, you haven't even mentioned him once, and you're just easy going and happy."
"Well, I've been sort of avoiding Papí, you know how it is, college application deadlines are coming up."
"And you're supposed to follow the plan, no matter what it is that you want."
"Yeah." Santana shrugged, picking at her fingernails. "Aunt Sara, I thought I was just going to do it, because it was easy, and it was safe, but what if I don't know what I want anymore?"
"You don't know how to tell him you might not live his dreams for you? Because you know that I've been telling you since you were twelve that I'd help you make it happen, that I'd give you whatever you needed to go to New York, or California, or the moon, if that's what you wanted. You don't have to spend your whole life in Roswell, just because that's what Lopezes do."
"I know." Santana lowered her voice to a whisper, and looked again over her shoulder. "It's just, for the first time in my life, I have someone in that town who looks at me like I'm someone other than Javier Lopez's daughter, someone who looks at me like I'm so, so special, and it makes me feel like I really can do special things, but I'm just not sure yet what it is that I want to do, or if I really want to leave at all."
"You love her."
"What? I...we aren't even officially together, and we haven't even been doing this for very long, and no one back at home knows, well, except for 'Ce, and Brittany's brother and her...friend."
"None of those things are required for you to love someone. I understand that it's complicated, and maybe you feel like it's way too fast, but I also know you pretty well, and I'm sitting here watching the way you look at her, the way your voice softens, just a little bit, when you speak to her, the way you get so flustered when she says something to compliment you. Honey, it's okay to love her, because I think it's pretty obvious that she loves you too."
Before Santana could respond, Brittany was walking down the hall, a big smile on her face, and Santana felt that fluttery feeling again, that feeling she'd been sort of afraid to have, that feeling that her aunt had called straight out. Love, she couldn't believe that she actually loved Brittany already, but when she watched the girl adjust her suspenders, watched her carefully avoid tripping and breaking one of the many artifacts Sara had picked up from her travels around the world, when she thought about the way her whole world felt complete with just a simple graze of fingers, she knew without a doubt it was true, even if she wasn't yet sure what she was supposed to do with that solidified knowledge, and she could only hope two things. The first being that Sara was right, and Brittany did love her two, and the second being that whatever happened in the coming days and weeks with the hunt for the fourth alien wouldn't leave her shattered entirely.
They stayed only a little while longer, and left with more hugs, and promises that they'd be back to visit soon (and Sara slipping Brittany a copy of that picture of Santana and the alien, and whispering for her to take care of her sugar baby, because she may seem tough, but she really truly was soft and sweet inside). Both were silent as they made the mile drive to the address they had for April Rhodes, up into an area even more isolated than where Sara was, an area that made perfect sense for a secret alien to live. They'd formulated a plan, maybe not a great plan, but a plan nonetheless, that they were part of a new club in their high school that offered companionship to people who lived alone, and all they could do was hope that it would be enough to get them in the door long enough to do some surface investigation.
"Are you alright?" Santana asked, leaning over to brush a few stray hairs out of Brittany's face when they parked at the end of the long driveway.
"Yeah, I'm good, I just, I need a minute."
"Hey, take as long as you need. This is a big thing."
"Santana, before we go in there, I need you to make me a promise." Brittany looked deep into her eyes, making a particular human heart flutter, and Santana nodded slowly. "I know we were joking about it before, but if I tell you to run, I need you to run, I need you to run as fast and as far away as you can, and I need you to not look back."
"Britt-"
"Please, please promise me that. I can't go in there with you, if I think you're going to try to do something heroic and insane, if it comes to that."
"But you can?"
"It's different. It's so different. I have abilities, I can protect myself better than you can, especially now, with you being hurt, and if something happens to you because of someone like me, I'll never be able to live with myself. Please."
"Okay." Santana nearly whispered, feeling tears prick the back of her eyes, and immediately trying up push them down and make light of it. "But it's okay, it's fine, even if she is the fourth alien, she's not going to hurt us. We come in peace, right?"
"Yeah, definitely." Blue eyes swam with conflict, and Brittany brought up one hand to Santana's cheek, rubbing her thumb slowly, reverently over tanned skin before pressing the softest, sweetest of kisses on her mouth, holding it for several seconds, drinking her all in. When she finally pulled away, Brittany swallowed thickly, and steeled her resolve. "Okay, let's go."
Together, fingers brushing, even if they weren't holding hands, the girls made their way up the driveway. Brittany's heart was hammering in her ears, and her senses were on high alert, her right hand poised to rise up and protect them if need be. When the reached the door, they exchanged a quick look, before Santana pressed the bell, and Brittany subconsciously stepped just the slightest bit in front of her, waiting for someone to answer. When the door swung open, and a forty-something woman in short-shorts and a cowboy hat was revealed, clutching a wine glass in her hand, Brittany was taken aback, not really sure what she was expecting, but definitely not that.
"Whatever it is you're selling, I'm not interested. Unless it's hooch, or controlled substances." She slurred, spilling a few drops of red liquid on her doormat.
"We're, um, we're actually not selling anything." Santana told her, thinking of the pills in her purse, and wondering if they should change the plan, a thought that Brittany quickly vetoed, reading her mind and giving her a slight shake of the head.
"Well then, whatcha doin' on my porch, interrupting my date with Mr. Cabernet Sauvignon?" The woman attempted a terrible French accent, and Santana wondered for a second whether she was friends with Terri Delmonico, and what the odds were that she could meet two insane people in the same day.
"We came from the high school." Brittany finally spoke, once she'd finished taking in the strange blonde woman. "We're part of a new club, the, Warm House Committee."
"The Warm House Committee? Now is this some fancy way of saying they're sending pretty ladies like you to keep me a special kind of company, the kind of company I pay for, if you know what I'm sayin'?"
"No, no, no." Santana crinkled her eyes and shook her head. "We're not drug dealers, or prostitutes, we're just trying to do the neighborly thing."
"Well then why didn't you say so?" April brightened, and opened the door a little wider. "C'mon in. Can I get you a beverage? I just cracked open a new box of Franzia, I broke the rest of my glasses, but I can get you both some in a paper cup."
"We're in high school." Brittany told her, and no recognition spread across her face. "You know, under age, we can't drink wine, it's the law."
"Who in the heck made a law like that? Oh well, more for me then. Now what did you say your names were?"
"We actually didn't. I'm Santana, and this is Brittany."
"I'm April, April Rhodes, welcome to my humble abode." She stared at the two of them, barely blinking, and Brittany, always nervous about being subjected to any form of scrutiny, fidgeted in her seat. "I think this Warm House Committee thing sounds like a bunch of baloney."
"What? No, it's not, it's-"
"I might pass out and miss the occasional Tuesday, but the April Rhodes is no fool. You high school kids don't know the first thing about hospitality, and I'm sure they ain't starting any clubs about it." April paused and took a deep drink from her wine glass. "I know exactly who you are."
"You-you do?" Brittany's eyes widened, and she clamped a hand down protectively on Santana's thigh, unable to believe that it was happening, unable to believe the answers she'd only just come to realize she needed were sitting three feet from her, swirling a wine class.
"Course I do, you're undercover reporters! Always coming up with new attempts to make me break that little old gag order."
"Reporters? Gag order?" Santana was genuinely confused, and April let out a shrill laugh.
"Don't play coy with moi, I know you're all itching to get the dirt on my alleged affair with strip-mall magnate Buddy Leibovitz, you're trying to find out if he really did drop dead while we were doing the dirty, and if his wife really paid me sixteen million dollars, which was used to buy this house. Well guess what missies, I'm not telling you any of it! Not on the record anyway, off the record, it's all true."
"Miss Rhodes, I'm pretty sure if there's a gag order, you can't tell us on or off the record." Santana reminded her.
"Aw, crap. It's a good thing you're actually the first reporters that have ever came to see me." She sounded almost depressed about it, and she lifted the box from the table to refill her glass.
"We're not actually reporters." Brittany said, speaking in that way she had that managed to disarm everyone around her (with the exception of Quinn, and possibly Hummel). "We really did just want to come to see if you needed someone to talk to."
Forty-five minutes and a series of wild stories, the majority of which included alcohol, a few included sobs over failed dreams of Broadway stardom (and a drunken rendition of Defying Gravity, complete with shouts that she was better than that Katelyn Chinowet lady), and all seemed to spiral further and further into utter insanity, it was all but decided that though April was definitely on the strange side, she was probably not who they were searching for. It wasn't until she was passed out cold on the couch, the combination of liquor and whatever drugs she was on finally getting the best of her, that Brittany and Santana confirmed it officially, with a tap of Brittany's hand on the back of April's and a simple connection that she wouldn't remember in the morning (and even if she did, odds were, no one would believe the dreams of a drunkard). Closing the door behind them, Santana noticed the slump in Brittany's shoulders, noticed the dejected way that she walked, and she gave her a little space, figuring that she needed just a little bit of time to herself to process what had (or rather, hadn't) happened.
"I'm sorry it wasn't her." Santana nearly whispered, after they'd been driving almost a half hour, and Brittany had yet to speak, staring out the window and ignoring the repeated beeps of the cellphone in her lap. When she turned around to look at Santana, there were tears in her eyes, and the human girl's heart almost broke for the alien who held it so tightly. "Oh, Britt."
"I'm fine, I'm okay." She quickly wiped her eyes, and then hiccuped a little. "I didn't realize how much I'd gotten my hopes up, I guess, and what if they're all…what if everyone on this list are just weird, reclusive middle aged people that are a little strange?"
"If that was the case, I think that crazy nurse lady would be on there too." Santana tried to joke, but as much as Brittany wanted to, she couldn't find it in her to smile. "We'll find them, even if they're not one of two leads we have left, we will find them."
"How do you know? We've been here all this time and no one comes looking for us? No one gives us answers? I always just assumed we were the only ones who survived the crash, but now that I know we weren't...it just sucks, being abandoned like that, without even knowing who I am."
"I can't tell you I understand what you're feeling, Brittany, but I'm really, really sorry." She took a pale hand in her own and brought it to her lips, kidding the inside of her fingers. "But I don't want your hopes to get crushed over one drunken nut job, and you want to know how I know we'll find them? I know because a few weeks ago, I didn't believe aliens existed, a few weeks ago, I thought bleeding out on a floor left you dead, a few weeks ago, I didn't know that I could kiss someone and have a whole new world open up in front of me. You, Brittany Pierce, make me believe the unbelievable. Even finding what could be a needle in a haystack is way less far fetched to me than you even existing at all."
"Maybe somewhere in the back of my mind is what they look like, maybe you can find it in there." Brittany conceded, too touched by Santana's words to come up with an appropriate response, and when Santana slowly lowered her hand, she quickly tangled their fingers together, trying to express her gratitude and affection through tough.
"Looks like we have some serious making out to do then. You know, for the purpose of the investigation."
"You know that it's never just for that, right?" She checked, and though she'd said it numerous times, Santana had never needed the actual words to believe it, she could feel Brittany's want for her, feel the way she burned inside, even if the alien's skin didn't flame like her own did.
"I do." Santana nodded, then took in a deep breath, swallowing hard, and considering her next words carefully. "Britt, can I talk to you about something not alien?"
"That would actually be really good right now."
"Okay good. It's about...it's about us. I know we talked about just being, and stuff, and honestly I always kind of made fun of people who were all about labels, and like girls who were all ooey-gooey and gross about their boyfriends. But, okay-" Santana took a break to breathe, because she could feel her heart in her throat as Brittany's eyes never left her, and she also was trying to keep her eyes on the road, so as not to get them killed. "The thing is, Britt, I know we have to keep this a secret right now to keep you safe, and I want that, I still want that, of course. But for me, and you, and our friends and stuff, I just- Like, when I was introducing you to my aunt today, I, ugh, I'm really no good at this."
"Santana." Brittany let out a soft giggle, trying to help the rambling girl out. "When you introduced me to your aunt, I kind of froze for a second, thinking you might introduce me as your girlfriend, but then I realized you couldn't, because we aren't. But I want us to be."
"You do?"
"No, I just save random damsels in distress, and share all my secrets with them before sneaking to their room every night to talk about nothing, and then make out a little." Brittany teased, and Santana's cheeks burned. "Of course I want to be your girlfriend, I've probably wanted that since the first time I saw you, and now that I know you, like, really know you, I want it so, so much more. I want to say it all singsong-y in my head, and be really, really cheesy about you when I talk to Sam. I want to know that when I put my arms around you when we're alone, I'm the only one who can do it. Maybe it's crazy, when there's all this big deal, potentially universe altering stuff going on, but it would really mean a lot to me to be able to call you that."
"Oh, good." Santana let out all of the air she'd been holding in out in one long stream, and she kind of felt like crying. "Good, I'm really happy about that."
"Well I'd hope so."
"I know nothing's really changed, because I've sort of already been secretly pretending that we were official, or whatever, in my head, and we still have to hide from basically everyone, but I really want to pull over and kiss you right now."
"I wouldn't stop you if you did."
Checking her mirrors, Santana pulled onto a desert shoulder, feeling a buzz that didn't come from physical contact with Brittany, a buzz that came from the same place as other average teenagers all over the world, the aftermath of intense anticipation and a buildup of nerves, the strong affection and desire for another person who meant so much. She took both of Brittany's cheeks in her hand, just wanting to feel as much of her as she possibly could, before pressing their lips together, starting slow, gentle, reverent, and letting it build up, letting it intensify to the point that Santana felt like she was going to explode. There were no flashes, no far off universes, just Brittany, just the soft stroke of tongue, the soft brush of noses, and the eventual tangling of long fingers in black hair. As much as Santana loved the supernatural element to her kisses with Brittany, she also knew that the way it reached such a fever pitch usually caused her body to stop cooperating with her, and she was glad for this, glad for the perfectly human kiss that she could give to the girl who held her heart. In the moment, the world seemed to stand still, the worry about what came next in their hunt, the fear of losing the one each of them loved the most, the need to report back to the others about April Rhodes, all of that disappeared at sunset on a lone desert highway between Ruidoso and Roswell. If only for a few moments, they were just Santana and Brittany, celebrating something that didn't change a thing about what the actually meant to each other, but something, that for the first time in Brittany's life, made her feel just like everyone else.
