CHAPTER 4
As soon as the performance was over, Santana broke off from the group of back-up dancers that had supported her number and purposefully strode towards the bar area of the club, eyes locked on her blonde target.
"Ha ha ha, no, no, it gets even funnier! S-she used the porcupine's quills to comb her hair. She thought it was a brush!" Brittany finished gleefully, chuckling at the punch line of the story.
"Oh, man, ha ha, I-I can't! I feel so bad for her but... it's just too funny! How did she even run into a porcupine in the Amazon, though?" Sam queried good-naturedly, shaking his head at the absurdity of the situation.
"Ah, that, I have no idea, might've not been a porcupine at all; she told me she was pretty out of it and it might have been 'cause of all the coconut juice she drank – made her sort of woozy," Brittany explained with a mirthful shrug.
"Where did the coconut come from?"
Brittany shrugged. "She doesn't remember much about what happened, her only indication she even did all those things were the multiple flights she booked to Nicaragua, Beijing, and apparently the Dominican Republic of Congo."
"Whoa, I tell you, that's some story your friend's got!" Sam exclaimed, impressed. "Well, that just goes to show, don't get drunk at office parties."
"Yup, stay above the influence!" Brittany agreed with an energetic nod of her head. "Which…. I guess she sort did, flying 30,000 feet high and all?"
"She has a literal-inclined spirit," Sam expressed in awe.
"Now that you point it out, I see it," Brittany concurred with curiosity. "Oh, no, to think I failed to see her as a role model all these years!"
"A whimsical, alcohol-frenzied, credit card happy, blackout-prone, admirable role model," Sam added passionately, with a fist tightened as the sheer force of respect for this stranger coursed through his anatomy.
"I'll totally build her a shrine in my closet, worship her during the Adventure Time commercial breaks, and carry a picture of her in my boobs," Brittany declared with resolved finality.
"Oh, Hey Arnold!" Sam pointed out enthusiastically.
"Um… I'm Brittany."
"No, I mean, Helga!"
"But I just said I'm Brittany," the blonde said with a quivering pout.
"No, no, what you just said, it so reminded me of Helga from—"
"Alright, Brittany, yeah?" Santana roughly interjected. "Get up. We're leaving. Aaaaaaaand why do you look like you're about to ugly-cry?"
Brittany beamed a watery smile at the conversation's newcomer. "Sapphire! See, Sam? She knows my name! How could you forget mine? That's so mean of you… you don't hear me calling you Will, or Fred, or Dick."
Brittany sniffled. Sam looked contrite and opened his mouth to respond but not before Santana shot Sam a wry smirk.
"Nah, all guys have the potential to be dicks, if you ask me."
Sam quietly bristled. Why did Santana even have to come and ruin their nice chat?
"You can really just get your name changed like that?" Brittany questioned in befuddlement. "I thought there was, like, a lot of papers you had to scribble on and people behind counters to talk to… Oh! It would be so much fun if my name were changed to Penelope, like the racecar driver from that cartoon in Boomerang! OH! Or even to Princess Bubblegum like from Adventure time – but wait, isn't princess like more of a title? Can that be part of a name? Is that why dads some times call their daughters 'princess'? If so, then they need to come up with something more original. I think every girl's name is princess. Hmm, I'd be Princess Brittany Bubblegum Penelope Susan Pierce. I like it."
"That sounds like an awesome, convoluted name, Brittany!" Sam enthusiastically complimented.
Brittany's eyes brightened. "Sam! You remembered my name!"
Sam scrunched up his eyebrows. "Um I never forgot?"
"Yah, don't lie, Lips, you barely even know the girl," Santana said dryly, arms folded and expression indifferent.
"Wha—I do, too, I met her last night and… wait"—he curiously turned to the blonde—"didn't you have a British accent?"
Brittany's eyes bulged. Of all the details of last night's fake persona that she could have overlooked – how could she have neglected this one! ?
"Oh. Blimey." Brittany gulped. She immediately latched onto Sapphire's wrist and hauled the girl out. "My word, w-will you look at the time on"—she swiftly snapped her eyes to the startle brunette's wrist and noticed the unfortunate lack of a much needed watch for her sublime escape—"on my biological clock! Sapphire said she wanted us to go somewhere so, um, we'll get going now. Nice seeing you, Sam! Good day! Or—good night?"—argh, what was a British thing to say! ?—"Arrivederci! And ta-tas for now!"
Brittany fled the scene, dragging a disgruntled Santana with her.
"…Ta-tas?"
Brittany retained her steadfast grip on the other girl's wrist as she continued to lead them through the throng of people that were dancing, drinking, and dallying on the premises. She squeezed her way through the raucous public, making sure that she did not become accidentally separated from Sapphire.
Suddenly, she stopped.
"… So, I don't know where we're going…?" she abruptly announced, forehead creased and eyes narrowed in realization.
Santana rolled her eyes, disengaging the tight hold the blonde had on her wrist and stepping past the confused girl before looking back pointedly and motioning with her head the universal beckon for "follow me."
Santana spun around and marched forward at a moderate pace, not fast enough to lose the disoriented girl, but also not delayed enough to be accommodating.
"You got all your stereotypical speech mannerisms confused, by the way."
Brittany's eyes snapped to the back of the brunette's silky dark hair. She cocked her head in perplexity. Everything sounded fine to her. "Where did I go wrong?"
"If you were going to go with the painfully unoriginal and clearly overused 'ta-ta for now' make sure you don't end up referencing breasts. And, also, 'arrivederci,' um… what? That's not even British last time I looked up 'too entirely commonplace, embarrassingly basic and useless phrases for the gullible but loaded foreign tourist' on the net."
"… That's a really long search term, how many hits did you get?"
"About thirty thousand one hun—Really? That's what you focus on?" Santana uttered incredulously. "Just own up and tell me exactly what you did to trick Trouty into believing you were British. I can't believe you actually pulled it off considering that pathetic excuse of a performance you gave back there."
"Hey! I just don't think as well when I panic!" Brittany defended, pursing her lips petulantly. "My hands get all clammy, my body feels cold, my voice sort of wavers and—"
"You can hack it off right there, I don't need a list of the symptoms, just get to the point," Santana said churlishly, lifting a palm.
Brittany bit the inside of her cheek, still a little upset with the curt manner in which Sapphire was addressing her. However, as her thoughts drifted back to Sam, the friendly bartender that forgave her for forgetting to pay for her drinks that first night, she felt an expanding guilt on her chest and her expression immediately dropped to crestfallen.
Sapphire's back was facing Brittany, something she was now somewhat thankful for since she was a little ashamed of her behavior and deception. Brittany sighed morosely.
"I didn't mean to lie to him! It just sort of happened. I was mixing drinks, and thinking about brown babies, he started talking about racism, and I didn't want to be mean like the grumpy man from American Idol, with the accent, and somehow I ended up talking like him even though I didn't want to be him, and Sam misunderstood, and thought I was British, when my name's Brittany, but then he thought he heard Britain, and I didn't want to disappoint him and I was still thinking about the X-factor—wait, didn't I say some other show?—Waaah, I don't even know anymore, all I know is that I didn't mean to lie! I wouldn't do that! Please don't wash my mouth with soap!"
"I'm pretty sure that's only when you cuss and, gawddammit, so this is the sort of shit happens when someone spends too much time around that blabbering elf. Do me a favor, Blondie, and steer clear from Berry from now on; avoid her like HIV – get into the condom mindset. Think condom. Be the condom."
Brittany's mouth flopped like a fish's. "S-Sapphire, you shouldn't say thinks like that out loud! If only I had some soap!"
"What? Condom? Don't tell me you're a prude. Oh, great, just my luck. I'm rooming with a tight-ass."
"No, not condom! The… other… word. It was… the 'd' word… like darn… but the forbidden version. And now you said the 'a' word… it rhymed with 'as.'"
"What? Don't even. You just said it too – ass – don't play innocent!"
"What? No, I didn't! That's not true! The spelling was different!"
"Sure about that? Phonetics leads me to believe you spoke a damn, fine ass just now."
Brittany's lower lip trembled. "It wasn't… I didn't… Oh, no, I'm going to… now I'm going to…"
"What? Go to hell? Chill, you're not going to go to hell for saying ass. I mean, if we were all damned for cussing, I'd say the entire human race was pretty much doomed to an eternity of pummeling misery and sadistic torture in the fire armpits of the inferno. Hmm, which means I should probably start looking down rather than up when telling my abuela about my day."
"I'm going to… I'm going to go on the naughty list!" Brittany bemoaned her woes.
Santana jaw dropped in disbelief. "That's what you were worried about?"
Brittany blinked blankly. "What else would I be worried about?"
"Did you not hear anything I just said?"
"Not really, I was too caught up in my own internal horrors to hear anything other than me saying 'I'm going to… I'm going to… I'm going to—'"
"Ugh, stop, I know, I was here for that, remember?" Santana reminded in exasperation.
"'Course I do, silly, where else could you have gone?" Brittany reasoned light-heartedly.
Santana took this opportunity to execute a face-palm.
"Being on the naughty list is not at all good! You get coal for Christmas," Brittany warned gravely.
"I don't care about that," Santana muttered brusquely.
"Jut 'cause Christmas is far away doesn't mean you shouldn't care, Sapphire. You'll regret it once the holiday season approaches. Santa watches you all year!"
"I've pummeled all the creeps that have been watching me all year, I wouldn't be surprised if Santa got thrown in the pile," Santana divulged without a hint of remorse.
Brittany choked on a horrified gasp. "S-Sapphire, where did you leave Santa!? Did you at least take him to the ER? Oh, no, what if he's too incapacitated to fly all over the world and deliver presents this year!? Everyone will be so sad! We can't let this happen. Sapphire, you gotta write an apology letter to Mr. and Mrs. Claus, and tell them that if they're too weary to ride the sleigh we'll be willing to swoop in and save Christmas! I hope we get to ride on the reindeers… I call dibs on Rudolph!"
Santana stared blankly at Brittany. The girl was clearly irreparably, mentally unstable. Why did Berry have to go and pick up a crazy? It was bad enough that she worked here, now they have another to deal with? Was this divine retribution for something she screwed up in a past life or something? The universe cannot possibly hate her so much as to actually be conspiring to concentrate so much misfortune in her life.
"Sapphire?"
"Hmm?" absently responded the brunette.
"What do you say?"
"…"
"…"
"…"
"…"
"I call dibs on Prancer."
Anything to end the blather.
"I really like your room!" Brittany chirped upon entering Santana's room at the third floor of the Katharsis establishment.
Santana hummed apathetically. "I don't see the appeal. The dim lighting's terrible and the inflammatory red layout just makes it feel like I'm living in the devil's anus."
"If it's any consolation, you don't seem like you'd be too much of a pain in the butt," Brittany reassured. "I mean, having anything in your butt is uncomfortable so…"
"You don't need to expand on that," Santana interrupted, raising her palm and slightly grimacing.
"Okay, then, we'll change topics, where will I sleep?" Brittany inquired good-naturedly.
"You're standing on your bed," Santana bluntly announced, pointedly sitting on her bed.
Brittany looked down. "But… I only see the floor?"
"Excellent observation."
"Um, I mean, I've slept on the floor before, when I had sleepovers with my friends, but we usually put down a futon, or even an inflatable mattress!"
"The floor is matted," Santana unhelpfully supplied.
Brittany stared at Santana pathetically. "Well, okay, I think I can totally work with that, it'll be like camping, but without the sleeping bag… or the tent… or the fireplace… or the charred marshmallows… or—"
"I get the idea, Goldilocks," Santana disrupted, rising from her queen-sized bed and ambling over to her closet to pull out her pajamas.
"Could I get a pillow?" Brittany ventured somewhat hesitantly.
"I think I have a balloon somewhere…" Santana replied, looking faux-contemplative.
"I love inflatable stuff!" Brittany cheered animatedly.
Santana furrowed her brow in irritation. Why wasn't the girl pissed?
"Actually, never mind, no, I just remembered, I probably lent them to the gnome so that she could at least fake having a huge rack so that we don't lose our followers."
"I think Rachel has nice"—What word would be most appropriate to defend Rachel's bosom?—"bazongas."
Brittany mentally patted herself in the back. Yeah, that totally encapsulated her point!
"And I'm certain she'd appreciate your political correctness." Santana grinned mischievously, but her smirk was immediately wiped from her face as she fully registered the uttered statement. "Wait, you know her name?"
Brittany blinked, and then smiled. "I do! She introduced herself before hitting on me."
"Before hitting on—bleh, whatever, I don't care," Santana said in a bored tone. "I just find it odd the dwarf would be irresponsible enough to give out her name to an attendee. She's usually the tightass about these confidentiality things."
"I thought Sphene was her middle name?" Brittany stated. "Oh, wait, yeah, I remember now, she said Barbra at some point. I'm not sure. She was talking a lot so I was sort of drifting in and out."
"Look at you, you're learning," Santana appraised, arching her eyebrow. "Now you just gotta drop the drifting in part and you'll have mastered one of the steps towards the pursuit of happiness. Berry's obsessive compulsive tirades are plights of living one can easily dodge if you develop the proper avoidance technique."
"I think her speeches are super interesting. True, I don't get half of what she's saying most of the time but she look crazy impassioned and that gets me excited too!"
"Whoa, listen, if you and I are going to be stuck together in this room for saints know how long, you best curb your sexual fetish overshare," Santana warned. "In fact, I'd find it pleasant if we never talked at all, and if we only interacted when it is absolutely necessary, like in case of an earthquake or tsunami or even a tornado, but unless something of that magnitude happens, we don't chat."
"That sounds kind of… heavy," Brittany finally said.
"I don't joke around with natural disasters," Santana dictated seriously.
"Well I wasn't really talking about that—"
"Ah-ah, what did I just say about talking, Corn Cob?"
Brittany pursed her lips in a pout and scrunched her eyebrows. "Okay, but can I at least know your name before you forever condemn us to silence?"
"If I'm forever condemning us to silence, you won't ever need to use my name."
"It's not fair, though! You know mine, why can't I know yours?" Brittany argued petulantly.
"Sapphire works just fine."
"But it's not your real name. You just said Sphene wasn't Rachel's name."
"I only use the alias with strangers."
"Aren't we going to be roommates now?"
"Well, I don't expect you to stick around long, Wheat Stalk. This arrangement isn't exactly in my distant plans."
Brittany's shoulders drooped. "I wasn't planning on imposing too long… As soon as I find a job, I'll leave but… I really hoped we could get along for as long as I stayed here…"
"Yeah, well, sorry we won't be a couple of mutual nail-polishing, selfie photo session taking, window-shopping, boy-gushing, idiotically hush-giggling besties," Santana deadpanned stoically, arms folded. "If that's what you're looking for, allow me to redirect you to a college campus near you, where such bonding girlfriend fantasies actually stand a chance of becoming a reality."
"Why are you being so mean to me?" Brittany questioned, chest slightly panging.
Santana stared hard and paused at the blonde, then rolled her eyes and sighed in exasperation as she turned around to fiddle with a pillow, giving the semblance of rearranging the item on her bed.
"Listen, believe it or not, I'm actually trying to make it easier on you, this whole 'cohabitation' situation we got going on, I'm less likely to snap at you if you don't talk," Santana explained, sounding irked. "I don't 'do' people, so you just live your life, let me live mine, and we'll get along great by my terms."
Brittany opened her mouth as if to establish a counterpoint, but immediately thought better of it and just shrugged.
"I'm still going to find out what your name is," Brittany mumbled determinedly, linking her fingers behind her back and avoiding eye contact as she gazed at the floor.
"Yeah, do what you want, just don't get in my way," Santana settled in a blasé manner. "Now you figure out what your makeshift pillow is going to be—I've found that the crook of the elbow is all the rage these days—and I'm going to the bathroom to change into my nightwear. While I look hot in this outfit, it honestly gets to be suffocating."
As if to accentuate her point, Santana rolled her shoulders and flicked one of the straps of the dress she was donning.
"What will I wear to sleep?"
"Oh, yeah, that's another one of the brainteasers you're solving tonight, Blondie. You better have figured it out by the time I get out of the bathroom 'cause I needz my beauty z's, and I'll be damned if I'm waiting for your skinny jeans to be done."
Brittany bit the inside of her cheek in apprehension. "Well, ok, but before you go, do you mind if I—?"
"Yes."
And the bathroom door slammed closed.
Santana ultimately decided to take a shower, get clothed, blow dry her hair, and apply her nightly creams before stepping out of the bathroom. To her surprise, she found the lights of the room already turned off. She carefully walked in the direction of her bed.
Thump.
Groan.
"Shit," Santana whispered out.
"Don… curse…angels… weep," Brittany muttered out sleepily after being accidentally impacted by Santana. "Sa… pphire…"
Santana frowned. How did she even know it was me that cursed?
"Hey," Santana prodded, gently nudging the girl that had curled up on the floor with her naked foot. "You awake?"
Brittany made a soft noise of disgruntlement at the antics of the poking foot and scrunched up her nose as she stirred and turned her body away from the disturbance.
"I can't believe she was gullible enough to actually sleep on the floor," Santana murmured out as she contemplated the sleeping blonde. I would've just slapped the bitch that dared to order me around.
Santana carefully stepped over the girl and tiptoed her way over to her bed. As soon as she arrived, she pulled back the covers, positioned herself between the sheets, and snugly arranged the blankets over herself.
She spent an hour tossing and turning in bed, faint beads of sweat dripping from her pores.
Ugh, it's so hot in here, she thought to herself irritably, flinging the comforter cover away from herself.
She squinted her eyes and panned her vision left and right across the room, eventually landing on the golden mane of the girl that still remained strewn across the floor.
Such awkward sleeping position, what do you call that—the sloth? the still drowsy Latina mused idly to herself as she considered her newly acquired roommate.
She wiped a slight film of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. I gotta put this thing away. She rose from the bed and gathered up the comforter into her arms, rubbing her eyes. She yawned and haphazardly threw the comforter to some random spot in the room before dropping and passing back out on her bed.
As whimsical fate would have it, the comforter landed in a heap right on top of blonde.
And Brittany became immediately warmer.
And was also slightly suffocating due to the blocking of all possible airways that the comforter wrought.
Apologize for the wait and the short length. But I'm back. Sorry if this chapter was in any way disappointing but I'm trying to get back into the swing of things. I'm notorious for leaving fics unfinished… but not this time! Are you guys still interested in seeing where this goes?