Snixxwrath asked: 65. "I don't want you to stop."
Santana doesn't know how, but somehow she's been dating Brittany for six months and only just now found out she can dance. She knew that Brittany had rhythm, based on how easily she danced around the kitchen while they cook supper, but this is the first time they've been out dancing dancing, and watching Brittany move around the dance floor like she was born to do it fills Santana with such a sense of adoration and pride that she doesn't even care when Mercedes snaps a picture of her beaming face.
Mercedes Jones, the assistant manager of the flower shop and the only person Santana really trusts outside of Brittany and her mom, was part of the reason Santana agreed to go out (the other reason, which did about ninety-two percent of the convincing, was Brittany's promises of sweet lady kisses later). Mercedes has been a struggling musician for as long as Santana's known her, all the way back in their first year of college. Mercedes was one of the few people to support Santana's aspirations to open her own flower shop, and Santana's forever grateful for that. Santana offered Mercedes the job of assistant manager almost as soon as the first discussions with investors and banks happened, but Mercedes only accepted a couple years ago. Mercedes is assistant manager only in name, because Santana relies on her more as a co-owner and wouldn't be where she is today without her; and it breaks Santana's heart that nobody can see how damn talented Mercedes is. Santana knows she'd be a star, if someone would just give her the opportunity to shine.
Which is why Santana is almost more excited than Mercedes is when she gets a phone call in the middle of the day on an otherwise boring Thursday, a phone call that says some producers saw her stuff online and are very interested in talking with her further. Mercedes was in shock for most of the day, and only started getting excited once she was getting ready at Santana's place to go out to celebrate with Santana and Brittany and a couple of other their friends.
They pick a place they can really dance at, because Brittany's partner, Mike, and Mercedes both love the bar, and all Brittany has to do is turn her pout on Santana before she's giving in.
Santana doesn't regret her decision, per say, it's just that nothing could have prepared her for what it's like to watch her girlfriend dance; not in an aroused way, though Brittany dancing is easily one of the sexiest things Santana has ever witnessed, just in an awed way. Santana's jaw drops from the first move Brittany makes (and it doesn't really close until Brittany is tugging her into a taxi later that night). Brittany moves like she's a softened elastic band, all liquid movement until she snaps, both with precision and self-assurance, she moves like she was made just to make that step, she moves like she was born for it. Santana can barely take her eyes off her girlfriend, occasionally glancing at Mike with a fond smile, because it's pretty funny seeing Britt and Mike, both so dressed up and serious at work, breakdance with splitting grins spread across their cheeks and sweat dripping down their temples and their hair flying everywhere.
Mercedes slides into the booth beside Santana, breaking her concentration and waving her phone with the picture of Santana's dopiest face around. Santana can't bring herself to perform her usual snark, so she just shakes her head with a fond eye roll and slides over on the booth seat so Mercedes can swing her legs in under the small table.
"You're so sappy," Mercedes says.
"You love it," Santana retorts, her eyes drifting back to Brittany.
Her and Merceds chat for a while, about what they're going to do about work, about how amazing it is that Mercedes got a call from a producer out of the blue, about how lazy their newest hire is, about how much Santana will miss Mercedes when she gets crazy successfully and moves to L.A. (that part is mostly Santana being dramatic, with just a shred of truth in it).
Eventually Mercedes is dragged away by some of her other friends and Brittany saunters over to her. Santana slides to the end of the tall booth and tugs on Brittany's hips so they're snug between her legs.
"You can dance!" Santana shouts over the music.
Brittany has to lean super close to hear Santana, their foreheads almost brushing as they tangle their hands together between their body; it takes a second for Santana's words to process over the speakers blast above them, but when she does she lets out a loud, giddy-happy laugh. "Of course I can dance, you danced with me in the kitchen just last night."
Santana shakes her head and stares up at Brittany in awe. "No, Britt-Britt, I mean you can dance. I've never seen anyone dance as well as you. You're, like, the most amazing dancer I know."
Even through the flush of adrenaline and exertion and the heat of the bar, Brittany blushes all the way to the tips of her ears. "Thank you," she mumbles, and Santana has to bounce up on her tiptoes and press a kiss to the corner of Brittany's mouth, tasting strawberries from earlier and vanilla lip chap and the faint tang of alcohol.
Mercedes bumps into them again just then, her smile wide as she wraps Santana and Brittany in a three-way hug. Mercedes had taken to Brittany almost as quickly as Santana had, and she's so happy that one of her oldest friends and her newest friends are so happy together; tonight she's just a little bit selfish and is so proud of herself for making it this far, even if everything falls apart afterwards.
It's just after one by the time they all part ways; Mercedes and Mike and Mercedes' friend Quinn all share a taxi since they're heading in the same direction, while Brittany and Santana take their own since they're heading in the opposite way. Brittany traces distracting patterns just under the hem of her skirt, and it gets Santana excited in a very different, but no less amazing way. Santana's about ready to jump her girlfriend by the time they pull up outside of her apartment building, but the only problem, Santana quickly realizes, is that Santana is so sore now; she aches in muscles she didn't even know she had from dancing with Brittany, and as soon as they enter Santana's bedroom, Santana collapses face first on the bed with a loud groan.
Brittany giggles from the doorway, crossing the room to perch on the bed beside her girlfriend, carding her fingers through dark curls and carefully working through the knots when her fingers catch in them. "Are you tired, honey?" she asks, and Santana can hear the smile in her voice.
Santana just groans into her comforter instead of answering. Brittany shifts on the bed, and then her warm hands are on Santana's back, working around the low back of her dress and digging luxuriously into bare skin.
Santana's groan turns into a sigh of relief as she feels a knot in her back release; Brittany has magic fingers and she manages to find every single ache and knot, carefully massaging it out while Santana stretches and melts like a kitten in a sunbeam.
She's dozing off when she feels Brittany place a soft kiss to the middle of her back, right between her shoulder blades.
"Do you want to go to bed?" Brittany asks quietly.
Santana shakes her head childishly. "I don't want you to stop," she mumbles.
Brittany presses another kiss to her shoulder blades. "At least let me change you into some pajamas," she whispers.
Santana grunts and lets herself be guided into a sitting position, drowsily allowing Brittany to unzip her dress and pull it off. She yawns and lets her eyes droop closed, relaxed and sleepy, while Brittany putters around the other side of the bedroom, hanging Santana's dress over the side of the hamper before quickly stripping out of hers and doing the same.
Santana dozes off, because the next thing she knows is her bra hitting the hamper and Brittany is standing there, in sleep shorts and an old t-shirt, pulling a shirt over Santana's head. She gently taps Santana's side and guides her back down onto the bed, adjusting her until she's laying on her stomach, her arms curled under the pillow. Brittany settles over top of her, sitting back on Santana's thighs and squeezing her knees along Santana's ribs to keep her in place, and Santana barely has a second to perk up in interest before clever fingers are digging into her sore muscles and working the ache out. Santana moans quietly and sinks deeper into the bed, sighing contently when Brittany quietly asks her if she's doing okay. Brittany hums something soft and sweet above her, and Santana feels herself start to drift out of consciousness, at the sound and feel of Brittany above her; Brittany hums something like a long forgotten memory, like an old song you still know all the words to, like Santana's finally coming home.
When Santana finally falls asleep, it's to Brittany settling against her, warm and solid all along her left side. "Goodnight, honey," Brittany murmurs, "Love you."
"Love you too," Santana mumbles back, sighing deeply, comfortable and relaxed, when Brittany presses a lingering kiss to her forehead. Brittany's lips curved into a smile against her skin is the last thing Santana remembers before she's lost to her dreams.