While the Angels Walk with the Lonely Ones
The Element is larger and better designed than McClaren's, giving it an open feel that Santana certainly isn't used to in bars. She and Brittany had arrived with four of Brittany's co-workers; by the way the girls had flirted with the man checking IDs, they're definitely regulars. Sure enough, the girls scope out a table with shrewd familiarity, picking a locale not too far from the bar, but out of range of the rowdy patrons up against the counter. Santana's just slid into her seat when Brittany lays a hand on her shoulder to catch her attention.
"Are you enjoying being on this side of the bar for once?" she laughs, pitching her voice over their surroundings.
Santana grins. "You know it," she replies, playfully flicking at Brittany's fingertips.
"Yeah, Santana, how long have you been at McClaren's?" Santana and Brittany turn their attention back to the other girls at the table, albeit reluctantly. The speaker, a cat-eyed brunette who goes by the stage name Bubbles, folds her hands expectantly.
Santana clears her throat. "Two years."
"Bubbles" arches an elegant eyebrow. "Have you always been in the...'bartending' business?"
"Olivia," another girl swats at her. "Be nice." She turns apologetic eyes to Santana. "Sorry, dear. So where are you from?"
"You don't look like a native Angel," Olivia puts in.
Santana curls her toes under the table. "Lima, Ohio," she replies, her voice a sigh.
It's her questioner's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Smalltown, USA, then?"
"More like Bumblefuck," Santana shoots back. Laughter ripples around the table, and Brittany makes a face from Santana's left.
"I guess I haven't introduced you to the girls," she says. "I don't think we want to use our, um, stage names here." The other girls groan. Apparently stage names aren't exactly the best part of the job.
Brittany smiles, light and easy in a way that sends Santana's heart into a bizarre medley of gymnastics. "Santana, meet my girls. Olivia, Rose, Meghan, and Alex. And Alex's girlfriend," she adds. A petite Asian girl seated next to Santana's questioner wiggles her fingers in a short wave, then clasps them with her partner's.
"Anna," she introduces herself.
"Santana," she replies, a little redundantly.
"Brittany!" Her companion crows, making them all laugh again.
"Enough chatter, I'm here to drink." Rose slams a palm on the table and flags down a waitress, amid cheers from the little table.
"Okay, so small-town Ohio," Alex continues once they've ordered their drinks. "What brought you to LA?"
Santana shrugs a little uncomfortably. "I don't know," she replies. "Just...life."
"She went to college in Boston," Brittany pipes in, to murmurs of interest.
"Doing...what, exactly? In school?" Rose asks, absently tearing a napkin to shreds.
"Chemistry." Santana sets her shoulders against the looks she knows are coming.
"What, and you bypassed med school?" Olivia lazily spins a ring on the table in a silver blur, until Meghan snatches it up and pockets it.
Santana ducks her head, uncharacteristically abashed. All of Brittany's girls are so...perfect. They're all gorgeous and shining underneath the lights of the bar, so full of life and energy, and they never stop moving. Santana feels like a pock-marked hick from the back streets of Nowheresville, or, even worse, like an insecure high school cheerleader who has to get a boob job to be noticed. Regardless, she's uncomfortable and light-headed and she just wants to curl into Brittany and disappear from all these questions.
It turns out Brittany really is her guardian angel. "Come on you guys, lay off," she cuts in, eyeing the other girls reproachfully. "She didn't expect the Spanish Inquisition."
"Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!" Anna crows, and she and Alex dissolve into laughter. Santana isn't the only one eyeing them dubiously.
"What, have you never seen that Monty Python sketch?" Alex asks breathily, wiping her eyes. They all shake their heads. "Well...fine then," she pouts, sinking back into her chair. The waitress arrives then with their drinks in a whirl of green and black fabric, bringing conversation to a pause as the girls divvy out their beverages.
"To Tuesdays!" Brittany proposes merrily, lifting her glass in a toast.
"Tuesdays!" The girls chorus, clinking their glasses. Santana catches on a little belatedly and hurries to drink with the others.
"So," Rose says, once they've set their glasses down, "anyone up for Never Have I Ever?" Meghan claps her hands, while Alex and Olivia cheer.
"I love this game!" Brittany giggles, elbowing Santana playfully. Santana bumps her with her shoulder and grins.
"Better watch out - I'm a beast."
Olivia clicks her tongue. "You're on, Ohio," she says, narrowing her eyes in a very feline manner. "Let's see what you've got under the hood."
Santana bristles and is about to zing that catty stripper right back when Meghan announces, "I'll start!" The blonde runs her finger along the rim of her Natty Lite. "Never have I ever been out of the country."
"Really, Megs? That's what you start with?" Rose protests, but she drinks anyways. Everyone but Meghan and Santana tips her glass.
"You've never been out of the country?" Brittany asks in surprise, her breath freshly scented with alcohol.
Santana shakes her head. "All of my family's basically come over from Mexico, so there's never been a need. And I...could never really afford it in college."
Brittany purses her lips and seems about to ask another question, but it's Alex's turn, and she loudly proclaims, "Never have I ever liked country music!"
"What the hell, man?" Meghan grumbles as she takes another sip and comes up spluttering. Santana groans and drinks as well.
"Okay, okay," Anna says, placing her hands on the table. "Never have I ever had a threesome."
"What?" One of the girls exclaims, and Olivia leans across the table to grasp Anna and Alex's hands in hers. "I can hook you up," she says seriously, and Santana laughs around a sip of Tequila Sunrise.
"You too?" Brittany asks, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. Santana giggles, already feeling the pleasant fuzz of alcohol clouding her inhibitions.
"College," she replies. "Great stuff, man, greeeeeat stuff."
Once the girls have set their glasses down, it's Santana's turn. She toys absently with her straw. "Never have I ever...been on TV or film." She blinks curiously as half the girls tip their glasses back, including Brittany.
"I tried out for So You Think You Can Dance," she answers after she's sipped her Highball. "A lot of us did, actually," she glances around. "Plus, when you wanna be a dancer, you weasel your way into screen time as often as you can."
"Your turn, Britt!" Rose calls out, and Brittany nibbles pensively on her lip.
"Never have I ever been to New York City," she states after a moment. This declaration shocks all the girls but Santana, and Brittany has to remind them to drink as they ply her with questions.
"I'm totally taking you next time I'm up visiting Sean," Meghan says, nodding affirmatively at Brittany. "My fiancé," she says to Santana.
"Wait, so how many of you guys are, like, married?" Santana breaks in, wrapping her hands around her drink.
"Meghan will be the first," Rose says, "at least among the girls here."
"Allison and Jaime are both married," Meghan adds. "And I'm the only one engaged." She eyes the table. "...Unless something's changed lately."
"Most of us are on the dating scene, though," Rose continues. "Like Alex and Anna." The girls in question grin and share a brief kiss.
"I don't dance, though," Anna clarifies.
"Britt and I are the only singles in the group," Olivia says mournfully, but reconsiders her wording when Rose shoots her a glare. "Okay, the only ones unattached."
"I hate the boundaries of relationships," Rose says loftily, tossing back her hair and taking a long gulp from her drink.
"I think we need another round," Meghan tells a nearby waitress, who nods and rushes off.
"Okay, go Rose!" Brittany says, licking obscenely at her straw. Santana curls her toes under the table, feeling heat rush to her cheeks. This one, single?
More for Santana, then.
She misses Rose's statement and takes a drink anyways, refocusing on Olivia, who reclaims the round with "Never have I ever had sex with a girl."
"That's hard to believe," Brittany whispers to Santana, and drinks. Santana obediently takes a sip - a delicious, very sweet-tasting sip. Check and check.
"Never have I ever had sex with a guy!" Alex declares, jovially skipping over Meghan. She leaps from her seat triumphantly as the entire table drinks. "Ah-ha! Take that!"
"Sit down, honey," Anna laughs, tugging her girlfriend back down.
The mood has been set, and the game advances with the questions trending darker and dirtier, especially as the drinks continue to disappear. Santana can feel the alcohol taking effect, dragging her mood down with it. She's always been a weepy drunk, and it's the bane of her existence when she goes out partying. Unfortunately, the other girls don't seem to be slowing down. Strippers can hold their alcohol.
"N'ver'ave I everrr cheated on anyone!" Brittany slurs joyfully, drawing curses from their companions. Good god she's perfect, Santana muses sorrowfully as she watches her bright blue eyes glitter. Beautiful, sexy, and moral. We're perfect for each other.
The very thought brings tears to her eyes, and she lets out a muffled sob that Brittany unfortunately catches. The cheer instantly dies from her face.
"Are you okay?" she asks very seriously, her eyes only twitching a little as she focuses in on Santana. "Have you been cheated on? Can I go kill the bastard?" she asks Santana, mistaking her rush of tears for a different sort of emotion.
"No, I'm - I'm - I need some air," Santana sobs, lurching from the table and heading towards the door. Brittany catches her halfway, encircling her wrist in a gentle, firm grip.
"Do you want me to call someone?" She asks, suddenly very sober.
"Quinn," Santana all but swallows the name as she obediently hands Brittany her phone. Brittany releases her and scrolls through Santana's contacts, while Santana catches her tears on her shirtsleeve.
"Hi, is this Quinn?" Brittany asks, covering her other ear to block out the bar noise. Even through her fog of misery, Santana is shocked by how remarkably sober Brittany is. "I'm a friend of Santana's. Yes, yes, she's okay." She tosses a doubtful glance over her shoulder just as Santana makes a disgusting snorting noise. "She needs a ride home, though." She pauses. "We're at The Element, on - oh, okay, you know where it is? Awesome. Yes. My name is Brittany, sorry." She tosses her hair over her shoulder. "Okay. Okay, great. Thank you so much, Quinn, I really appreciate it. Okay. See you soon." She clicks Santana's phone shut and hands it back to her.
"Quinn will be here in ten minutes," she says, her eyes big and bright. "She's very nice, though I don't think she appreciated being woken up." Santana chokes back a half-sob, half-giggle, which makes Brittany smile. "Come on, let's wait for her outside. We can get some air." She places a hand on Santana's lower back and gently steers her outside.
The cold air lets Santana begin to get a grip on herself, and she sniffles pitifully, wiping at her tears. "'M sorry, I cry 'lot when I'm drunk," she mumbles. Brittany rubs her back reassuringly.
"Don't worry about it. You also shouldn't have tried to keep up with us," she smiles gently. "Are you feeling okay? Nauseous at all?"
Santana wordlessly shakes her head. "My head hurts," she whispers. Brittany purses her lips and pulls Santana up against her side. She wraps her arms around her shoulders and nestles her head against her neck, gently beginning to card her fingers through Santana's hair.
The two of them stay like that until Quinn pulls up in a dark blue BMW. "Thanks so much for calling, Brittany," she says, ushering Santana off the street corner. "Sorry if she was any trouble." She shoots a glare over her shoulder as Santana curls up in a little ball in the backseat.
"No, not at all. Thanks for picking her up," Brittany smiles.
"Don't puke on the upholstery," Quinn hisses to Santana before slamming the door and hopping back into the front seat. She waves at Brittany and pulls away with the buzz of wheels on wet asphalt.
Brittany stares after the BMW for a few seconds before sighing and pulling out her own phone. "Jaime? Hi, it's Britt. Could you come and get me?"
a/n: holy fudge you guys, this one was looooong. I've literally been typing nonstop for the last two hours. But oh my lord was it fun. Poor drunk Santana ): and Quinn! I love throwing in people like Quinn. I'd love to see Quinn and Santana living as frenemies in LA. That's sitcom material.
Anyways, I want to thank you all again for all your wonderful favorites, your alerts, and your reviews. Especially those of you who have typed out such thoughtful responses! I really, really appreciate it. Every single email I get makes me smile. Thanks for making me write! Peace&Brittana.