So this chapters a tad short, but I think it was all necessary for now.
Please take a few seconds to review! It would be intensely appreciated :)
Santana woke up, forehead flaming, astonishingly in her own bed. She lifted her head to be sure she was correct, scanning the room lazily to identify her dresser, her mirror, all of her things. The last thing she remembered was Puck resting her head on the piano bench before kicking the rest of the population out of his virtually polluted house. Puck was a meat head, but he was very compassionate when he wanted it to be. He must've been the meaning of this 'good nights sleep' Santana had previousl heard about. The brunette blindly groped beneath the sheets of her bed, searching for her phone. When she finally found the shape, she flicked it open, and found no new text messages. Last night felt like one big blur, however Santana did remember the urge to strangle a Fabray, although she couldn't remember which one. Maybe both. What else is new?
The clock read 11:17, so Santana figured Puckerman would be awake and back from football practice by now. She punched in speed-dial number 4 and her phone rang slowly.
"'Sup, Lopez?" Puck's voice greeted.
"Nothin' Puckerman. Good practice today?" Santana asked, pretending as if she cared.
"Canceled. Not enough guys showed up... well, not enough guys showed up sober, so Coach Beiste is gonna punish us on Monday." Santana heard ruffles through the phone, ruffles she expected were from Puck falling back onto his bed.
"Mkay, look, I just wanted to thank you for last night." Santana sighed, turning over in her bed.
"Rocked your world, didn't I?" Puck grinned to himself.
"No... no not that, Puck," The dark girl rolled her eyes. "For bringing me home,"
"Nbdizzle home girl. ..uh... Santana? There's something you should know..." Puck began. "Last night... I was virtually the only one who didn't despise you."
"What do you mean?"
"Santana... You... you were way outta hand last night." Puck breathed into the phone, as Santana racked her brain for an explanation, she did remember feeling like a bitch last night. But she's always a bitch... "You really hurt Brittany's feelings... and Quinn kinda bitched you out once she had enough..."
"Is Brittany okay? What did I say to her? Why?" Her insides dropped thinking of how she may have hurt the girl.
"You thought something was going on with her and Quinn's sister..." Puck wasn't sure where his allegiance lay. Did he owe it to Santana to tell her about Casey's ill-advised feelings, or did he need to protect Casey from the Latina who would be sure release hell upon the freshman if she knew? "You were really drunk."
"Well, obviously. Like most parties."
Brittany sat alone on front steps on Noah Puckerman's house. It was about 2 in the morning, and she heard the music from the party that continued inside. The blonde didn't even try to repress the tears rolling off her cheeks, the coarse heaving coming from her chest. How had Santana treated her that way? Spoken to her like Brittany had been nothing more than a Lima Loser who bumped into her in the hallway?
The Cheerio's fingers gripped tightly over the edge of the stone step, almost as if she let go, she'd float up into the sky and never return to the ground again.
Brittany couldn't even care enough to acknowledge the footsteps she heard behind her. Although even with her blurred vision due to the tears that were cascading off her face, Brittany recognized the head of curly blonde hair that took it's place, sitting on the steps next to her.
"What are you doing here?" Brittany asked, rubbing tears off her cheeks, embarrassed.
"I just... I feel bad." Casey admitted, lacing her fingers together, but keeping her eyes glued on the other blonde. "Guilty."
The young Fabray was too much like her sister, despite what Brittany had been tried to convince otherwise. They were smart, they were perceptive, but most of all, they blamed everything on themselves.
"It's all of our faults, really," Brittany sighed. "You're probably the least responsible for what happened."
"I'm still sorry," Casey's hands parted and she positioned them in the same manner Brittany did, clutched on the step, right beside Brittany's fingers. "I don't think Santana liked me very much in the first place"
"Santana doesn't like anyone." Brittany said simply. "Even if she does, she'll still be mean to you." Brittany's first thought was Santana's secret fondness for Rachel Berry, whom she continued to call Ru-Paul whenever an opportunity presented itself.
"She's not mean to you." Casey pointed out, choosing not to look at the blonde alongside her.
"She can be. I mean, she had no problem tonight." Brittany's face contorted, thinking of her best-friend.
"You and I both know that wasn't normal, Brittany." Casey shook her head gently. "I barely even know either of you, but it's obvious she loves you."
"You know me." Brittany declared. "Better than most people at this school." Casey was taken aback by the assurance in the Cheerio's voice, and how Casey hoped she knew her.
"B-Brittany?" The freshman swallowed a lump in her throat, and sucked in an almost unhealthy amount of air.
"Yeah?" Brittany replied.
"You can talk to me, you know." Casey uttered, almost too quietly for Brittany to have heard. The taller blonde turned her head to find Casey's compassionate eyes greeting her. They were blue, like Brittany's, but not as brilliant. But these eyes were so caring, so determined to help, it sent and unexpected rush of warmth down her body.
And although Brittany said nothing, she inched her hand the necessary length across the surface of the step, and took Casey's hand in hers. Looking forward, as she heard Casey's breath hitch when she squeezed their hands together, tight. That's when the silent astonishment floated in her brain as she realized she was no longer crying at all.
Santana impatiently rung the doorbell of the Pierce household. It was about 11:40 in the morning, and the Latina was confident at least Brittany's mother was awake. Santana rung it once more before the door swung open revealing Mrs. Pierce, as Santana expected.
"Santana, good morning." She kindly greeted. The brunette was oddly good with parents. They somehow always managed to like her, especially Brittany's, because Santana knew she couldn't treat them like she did their sons or daughters. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"
"Is Brittany awake?" Santana inquired with a polite smile.
"She's asleep. But I'm certain she wouldn't mind your company," Santana knew Mrs. Pierce expected a relationship between her daughter and the Latina. She blatantly granted them privacy- but conveniently, not too much. Although Santana was worried Brittany would be angry with her after last night, from what she heard from Puck, she was a complete asshole. "Unless something's going wrong with the two of you?" Brittany's mother definitely had the same perceptive quality her daughter did, and detected the drop of Santana's face.
"Well... nothing I can't hopefully fix." Santana muttered. "Could I please see her Mrs. Pierce?"
"Of course," The dutch mother opened the door wider, ushering Santana in, "You know where to go," So Santana advanced up the stairs, taking two steps at a time, until she reached the top and entered Brittany's room quietly and cautiously. Brittany's head was facing the other direction, her body spread along the entire bed, not unlike a starfish. Santana had become quite familiar, and undeniably fond, of this particular position.
Santana slid herself between the sheets, gently guiding Brittany's body into a curled position, so that the two girls were spooning. Santana nuzzled her nose into the crook of Brittany's neck, where she brushed blonde hair away.
Brittany's eyes fluttered open momentarily as she felt Santana's arms wrap around her waist.
"MmSan..." Brittany muttered sleepily. Her brain was fuzzy, but this morning cuddle-session was making it a lot better. "What're you... d-doing here?" Brittany managed to utter.
"Shh, go to sleep baby..." Brittany shifted in Santana's arms so they were facing each other, then kissed the Latina, but something didn't feel right. She pulled back, looking perplexed. Brittany shifted her weight on the other girl's hands, but that was a awful mistake.
Santana quickly drew back her hand, sucking air through her teeth sharply in pain. She stared at the gash in her hand, looking from the cut to Brittany, not understanding really why Brittany's face was terrified.
"Britt?" She asked affectionately, looking straight into the blonde's eyes. And it was then, that the memory and horrific images from the previous night punctured Brittany's thoughts.
"You don't remember last night at all, do you?" The blonde asked quietly, breaking eye contact.
"No, I don't. But Puck filled me in." Santana consciously kept her arms around Brittany. "I'm sorry."
"I know you are." Brittany sighed. "But you need to leave." She untangled herself from her friend and slid out of bed, pulling on sweatpants. "I'm serious, Santana." She declared, turning from Santana and staring through her window.
"Come on, Brittany," The Latina got out right after her, spinning Brittany around to look at her. "Let me make it better." She pulled Brittany into a kiss, but the blonde struggled and pulled away.
"You can't. I- Look, I need some time." Brittany's eyes started to burn with tears, tears that she was determined to not let fall. "You were... an asshole last night, and I need-" But this time Santana kissed her harder. She held her right there, until Santana felt Brittany finally submit into her.
It was the brunette who lowered the two back onto the bed, as Brittany told herself to move, to push Santana off her, and to ask her to leave, but with each deep kiss, the blonde cared less and less.