While the Angels Walk with the Lonely Ones
The next two hours are the slowest of Santana's life. She checks her watch every couple of minutes, hoping against hope that somehow the minute hand would take a hint and hurry along. The bar's too busy for her to sneak away and watch Brittany perform, and Robert is nowhere to be found.
Santana's on the verge of starting a fight (just for something to do) when one of the young waiters moseys over to her post.
"Hi, Santana!" Blaine greets her cheerily, leaning up against the bar with a goofy grin plastered across his face. "What's up?"
"Cleaning, or I was until you came around and smeared up my bar." Santana smacks him across the forearms with her dishtowel. Blaine withdraws, nonplussed.
"I'm having a great night," he remarks, staring up at the lights with a sort of dazed wonder that Santana only ever sees in poets or the highly intoxicated.
Santana's just bored enough that she takes the bait. "Why?"
Blaine sighs dreamily. "Kurt," he replies.
Santana cuts him off right there. "Listen, lover boy," she starts, working herself up into full-on bitch mode, "the last thing I need right now is to have you sliming your ooey-gooey love all over here. I'm cleaning," she repeats, almost as an afterthought.
Blaine's eyes widen. "Who spit in your vodka?" He asks, and Santana lets out a groan as he parks his well-clad ass on a barstool. Blaine arches an eyebrow at her. "I'm serious! Tonight's a lovely night - what has you all negative?"
"I'm always negative," Santana replies, but her heart isn't in it, and Blaine obviously catches it, and cocks his head.
"What are you doing after work tonight?" Blaine asks slowly, his attempt at 'casual' missing by a mile.
"Stuff," Santana replies, snapping her dishtowel with a sharp crack that makes her compatriot jump. "Normal Tuesday-night stuff."
"Does it involve a certain stripper?"
"She's a dancer, and - hold up a moment," Santana stops short, scowling, as a grin lights up Blaine's olive features. "Who told you?"
"You, just now," Blaine chuckles, obviously pleased with himself. Santana deflates with a sigh and plonks her elbows down onto the bar.
"What do I do, Blanders?" Her vitriol has vanished, and her brown eyes are dark and pleading. "I haven't dated anyone since, like, abolitionists were hipster, and I don't know the first thing about wooing someone like Brittany."
"Aww, is that her name?" Blaine's smile quickly dies as Santana snaps him a glare. He clears his throat and tries again. "What are you doing after work, then?"
"Just a drink. She's inviting me out with her and the girls."
Blaine shrugs. "I mean, sounds promising to me." He holds up his palms in defense as Santana's glare sharpens. "Honestly...I'm not very good at romance. Before Kurt, I'd never really been anyone's boyfriend before. So I don't know what I can tell you, really."
"Great," Santana sighs, flaring her fingers dramatically. "I'm being schooled in romance by a complete amateur. This is gonna be just swell."
Blaine shrugs again. "I never said I wasn't good moral support." He tugs absently at his collar, incidentally baring another few inches of his neck. Santana's eyes widen as she catches sight of a pale - but unmistakable - circular bruise near Blaine's collarbone.
"Get in a fight with your vacuum cleaner, did you?" She asks casually, tapping her signet ring against the counter.
"Did I...what?" Blaine's eyebrows lift until they've all but vanished beneath a layer of stray curls. He's looking at Santana like she's on crack, and she gleefully bites her lip.
"Right here," she reaches over and gently flicks at the hickey. "It must have been a rather...heated battle."
Blaine goes absolutely scarlet, all the way to the tips of his ears. "I should, um, probably get back to work," he says hurriedly, clutching his collar tightly to his neck and fleeing the scene.
"Tell Hummel he's got a great set of teeth!" Santana yells after him, cackling to herself as Blaine hunches his shoulders and ducks into the other room.
"What was that all about?" The soft chuckle from behind her stops Santana's heart, and she whirls to find Brittany leaning against the bar.
"Blaine and Kurt. They're ridiculous." Santana rolls her eyes fondly. Brittany smiles.
"Yeah, they're pretty cute together," she replies. A mischievous glint sneaks into her blue eyes, and she leans across the counter, beckoning Santana closer. She obliges. "Sometimes they sneak backstage to get it on when they think we're not around. Which we usually are," Brittany adds off-handedly. "They're adorably awkward. But it's also kind of hot."
Santana bites back a swallow as Brittany's eyes latch onto hers. "Yeah," she manages. "So, um, what are you doing? You're not in your, um-"
"Lingerie?" Brittany replies dryly. Her eyes glitter as she catches the blush creeping onto Santana's cheekbones. "Yeah, we actually got off early for the night. Massie had to leave, or something," she added, naming the shrewd older woman who handles McClaren's entertainment.
"You're done, then?" Santana can't help the way her eyes wander down Brittany's body. She's dressed in a plaid flannel shirt over skinny jeans and tall black boots. Her legs look amazing. Big surprise there.
"Yes ma'am," Brittany drawls, lazily tying her hair into a braid. "I figured I'd come and entertain you until you were ready to take off for our grand adventure."
"Are we not going out for drinks?" Oh god, that sounded completely idiotic. Santana swears her IQ drops fifty points every time Brittany comes around. It's humiliating. Thankfully Brittany seems to find it adorable.
"No, we are. If you're still up for it." Brittany pauses to shoot her a questioning glance.
"No, yeah, I definitely am. I've been looking forward to it," Santana adds, pleased when Brittany's pale lips quirk in a smile.
"Me too. It's going to be a lot of fun. The girls can't wait to meet you." Brittany flicks her a wink that sends Santana's heart plummeting down into her toes. Or maybe it's taken up residence in her throat - she can feel her pulse thrumming in her now-scarlet cheeks.
"It'll be nice to talk to them off-stage," she finally says.
Brittany hums softly in response. "I don't want to rush you or anything, but when do you get off work?" She asks, crossing her legs at the ankle.
Santana checks her watch and winces. "Not for another half hour."
"I'm fine to wait," Brittany shrugs flippantly, but Santana's not having that. She glances around the smokey bar until she catches sight of Blaine, chatting with Kurt as the two pass orders back to McClaren's limited kitchen. She catches Blaine's eye and jerks her head in a summons, adding an impatient glare as Blaine hesitates.
"Yes?" He asks, once he's made his way over to the bar. Kurt has followed, and he folds his arms absently on Blaine's shoulder in a casual display of affection that makes Santana smile (just a little bit).
"Big favor," Santana hisses, pulling Blaine to the side and out of Brittany's earshot. "Can I get you to hold the bar for the next thirty minutes?"
Blaine looks like he's about to protest, and Santana latches onto his forearm. "Please, Blaine?" she whispers, dropping the aggression. His eyes flick over her shoulder to Brittany.
"Santana - I wish I could, but I have my hands full," he replies.
"I could do it," Kurt pipes in. Santana's eyes widen.
"Would you? That would be amazing. I'd owe you big time, like anytime you need to get into the storage rooms in the back to, I dunno, getchasome, or if you-"
Kurt holds up a delicately manicured hand to silence her. "While I would love to hear you babble on about all the favors you'd owe me," he says dryly, "take this one on the house. But be sure to give us all the juicy details tomorrow," Kurt adds, giving a salacious wink.
"Yessir." Santana almost kisses him on the cheek, but she decides that's probably not the best course of action. She makes do with giving him a quick side-hug instead, then skips back over to Brittany.
"Okay, Kurt's going to take the bar for me," Santana says breathlessly. "So we can go."
Brittany positively beams. "Awesome! Then grab your purse, Miss Lopez - you're gonna see Los Angeles like you've never seen it before." Once Santana has her jacket and clutch, Brittany hooks her arm through hers and leads her merrily out the door. Santana manages to mouth 'thank you' over her shoulder to Kurt before she's out in the night, the celestial stars of Los Angeles sparkling above her head.
A/N: And welcome back to our regularly-schedule programming! I hope you guys had a marvelous Christmas and New Year - I figured I would start 2012 off right by kicking my lazy butt into action and writing another chapter.
Also, if you can't tell, I adore Klaine. It was my first Glee ship :') Ohhh I was such a naive fan back then. Back before I discovered Tumblr.
Anyways, as always, check me out on tumblr and livejournal! Links are on my profile. I'd love to talk to you guys :)
Thanks so much for reading! You guys mean the world to me. Peace&Love&Brittana.