Sundays are normally spent at Nelson's for Santana. Brunch starts off at ten in the morning and she usually spends the entire shift with Quinn purposely ignoring their tables to avoid outrageous requests. However, this Sunday is completely different. Instead of goofing around with Quinn and the rest of the Nelson's staff, Santana has taken a sick day. Technically, she's not sick. But her life currently makes her sick to her stomach.
She figures her body is just used to waking up early, because when her eyes pop open at seven, she doesn't really think twice about it. Of course she groans and does not appreciate it very much, but it also gave her enough time to call in and get her shift covered. It's not like they can't use the extra cash. They can always use more money, especially since they had that not exactly planned Disney trip that had only just briefly discussed. But, they also aren't exactly poor so she figures missing one day is not going to be much of a big deal.
For the past three hours, she's been sitting on the couch flipping through channels and not exactly watching anything in particular. She thought about making some pancakes, but eventually decided against. After she'd made her second cup of coffee, she just didn't feel much like getting up from the couch again.
A little after one in the afternoon, a third cup of coffee, bottle of water and a phone call from Quinn, Santana wonders if Brittany is ever going to come out of the guestroom. With a furrowed brow, she looks over her shoulder to the table that's against the wall. For a moment, Santana considered that maybe Brittany had gone somewhere early in the morning, even earlier than when she had gotten up. But, her keys are still sitting right there on the table where they always are when she's home.
Looking at her cell phone on the coffee table in front of her, Santana considers calling Brittany. That maybe if she used technology to talk, not being face to face and all, that she would be more willing to get into a conversation. But, that's stupid. Brittany is a one on one, face to face type of person. She's not one to go into things without getting the chance to read someone's facial expressions or their body language. That's one of the super powers that Brittany has that Santana loves the most. It's a reason they get along so well, or, used to anyhow. Santana never really had say anything, yet Brittany would know everything.
Santana misses that, a lot.
At some point, Santana must have fallen asleep, because the next time she opens her eyes it's five-thirty. She yawns and wonders how long she's been asleep for. As she stretches and moves into a sitting position, she realizes that it had to be easy for her to fall back asleep considering she spent all morning in her new bed. While she pulls her hair up into a ponytail, she wonders if Brittany has woken up yet. She turns her head around, as though corners of the room will fill her in on whether her girlfriend has been lurking outside of the guestroom.
She pushes herself up from the couch and pulls down the bit of her shirt that had ridden up during her power nap and moves into the kitchen. When she notices the still half filled coffee pot sitting there, untouched, she knows that Brittany is still locked away behind the first door on the right of the hallway. With a sigh, she pinches the bridge of her nose and closes her eyes in exhaustion. There's no other option here but to go and check on her.
When she reaches her destination, she suddenly becomes nervous. She isn't sure if she is supposed to try and get into it, or just see what is going on in there. Eventually, Santana lightly taps on the guest room door and leans against the wall near the door frame waiting for a response from inside the room. After she hears a faint 'come in' she carefully opens the door and steps into the dimly lit bedroom that is normally reserved for family who are visiting and friends who need to crash for some odd reason. But, now, she walks into the room as if it were Brittany's own personal bedroom. That's how it feels these days anyhow.
When she spots her girlfriend, she finds her under the covers in the bed on her side, facing her. One side of her mouth tugs up, but she fights against it. She wants to smile, simply because Brittany looks so darn cute. But, she can't find it in her to smile because Brittany looks so darn sad. For a moment, they lock eyes and Santana forgets what she even came in here for. Actually, she's pretty sure she didn't have an actual reason except for the need of proximity to the girl she loves so very much.
"Are you feeling okay?" Santana asks, chancing a step towards the bed. She cringes at her choice of words. Of course Brittany is not 'okay'. She looks as miserable as Santana feels.
"I don't know." She admits quietly and with a shrug of her shoulders. Santana nods, tucks some hair behind her ears and crosses then uncrosses her arms over her stomach.
"Are you sick?" Santana ventures further into the bedroom, only stopping when she's only two feet away from the bed and from Brittany. "You've been in here all day."
"I don't know." Brittany once more replies with such uncertainty that Santana's heartbreaks all over again.
"Do you just want me to leave you alone?" She finally asks, exhausted with the fact that she and Brittany need to tell one another what they need these days, rather than just knowing.
But, the offer of allowing Brittany to tell her what she wants and needs goes without a response, leaving Santana in even more of an unknowing rut than before she came into the room. She lets some air out through her nose and nods, watching the way Brittany's eyes fall from her face and down to the corner of the pillow case that her fingers are tugging at. Right when she decides to surrender and turn to leave, Santana stops when she feels a hand on her wrist. She looks down and tries not to look so surprised and sort of relieved that Brittany is actually touching her.
"Wait." Brittany begs faintly. "Don't..." Santana is sure she is about to say 'don't go', but for some reason, she stops herself from uttering those words. "Lay with me?" Brittany asks her, letting her grip around Santana's wrist loosen, but her fingers linger longingly against her skin. For a few long seconds, Santana doesn't move or even respond. Eventually she snaps out of it and she nods and mumbles an 'okay' while Brittany shuffles backwards to give her room to get into the bed.
She takes her spot, leaving her back to the bedroom door and faces Brittany for what feels like the first time in so long. They lay there, staring at one another, with barely a foot and a half of space between them. There are so many things Santana wants to say to Brittany and so many things Brittany needs to say to Santana, but none of those things ever come out. Instead, Brittany lifts her hand, letting it come up to rest on Santana's cheek whose eyes flutter at the feeling. She lets her thumb graze over the skin of her cheek and the way it dips to just miss the corner of her mouth and down towards her chin.
Ever so carefully, Brittany leans her head forward, the few inches that is between them, and she licks her lips. Santana can feel her breath hit her mouth and her own chest stutters with anticipation. It happens when she blinks. Brittany's mouth is on hers. They move so comfortably over her own. It's like Brittany's lips were made to kiss Santana's lips. That's what it feels like anyway. That's how it always feels. But, this kiss is a little different. As much as it still feels the same, Santana and Brittany can feel a shift in the air of the guest room. Things aren't better between them. There is still so much to discuss and dissect. But, right now, all Brittany wants is to feel that again.
Brittany needs to know that it's still there. That light. The thing she feels every time she has ever kissed Santana and every time Santana has kissed her. She lets out a hum because she can feel it on the tip of her tongue. That spark that has always awakened her body and soul and mind. It is all still there, but so is the little bit of grey that has seemed to get into all of this wonderful. To get rid of that bitter taste of deceit, Brittany tries to deepen the kiss. She pushes further into Santana and soon enough, there are hands on her body. One hand grabs a fistful of her shirt while the other sits on her hip with fingers desperately pushing any fabric barrier out of the way. Her own hands are wrapped fiercely around the back of Santana's neck, pulling her harder and closer.
Hips give in, moving towards one another with a need that burns deep down. Legs spread to let a leg slip between until they are entwined beneath the bed sheets, so much so that it would be hard to distinguish what belongs to whom. Santana's hand dips cautiously below Brittany's waistband by her hip, letting her hand travel around the back to lightly squeeze the top of her butt. She receives a moan from the action and it only spurs her on to kiss harder and longer and squeezes some more
Tongues move against one another while lips smack and pop to get more. Brittany's hands move from around Santana's neck down to the hem of her shirt. She bunches the material in her fists and moves it up to expose the tanned skin underneath.
At the feeling of the back of Brittany's fingers against her stomach, Santana's breathe hitches in the back of her throat and a small moan escapes. Soon, those hands are inching up to her breasts, rubbing, kneading and squeezing.
Taking that as a go ahead for her to go further, Santana uses both hands to tug Brittany's sweat pants down to the middle of her thighs. She swallows her own gasp at the realization Brittany isn't wearing any panties. Not that it's a huge surprise, because Brittany goes commando whenever she gets the chance. But, it's been so long that it feels as though this moment had been a possibility and that Brittany was simply prepared for it should it arise.
She runs the back of her hand and fingers down Brittany's stomach, stopping when she knows that one inch further and she will be reaching her girlfriend's most intimate spot. Santana opens her eyes when she stills her hands, waiting for Brittany to take notice of her no longer traveling south. She's waiting for a reaction. Some sort of approval to keep going to where she's been so desperate to be for so long. When Brittany opens her eyes, she checks in, but only for a second. With one nod, Brittany closes her eyes again and latches her lips to Santana's lips. With a small bit of reassurance, she begins to lower her hand, letting her fingers graze the smooth skin before coming in contact with the small cropped hairs just above her girlfriend's core.
With a small bit of trepidation, Santana dips a finger inside of Brittany and both girls gasp at the sensation of skin on skin and penetration they have not experienced in a while. Brittany's hips cant forward, needing this more than she had expected. Her hands grip harshly at Santana's breasts causing her to wince slightly at the action, but it does not deter her. Her own hips move forward as her own arousal pools between her legs. Santana slides her finger in and out of Brittany a few times before adding another and then picks up her speed and pressure. A sound creeps from the back of Brittany's throat and causes Santana's eyes to open instantly. Brittany's eyes are squeezed tightly shut and the corners of her mouth are turned down. Her chin quivers and her lower lip jut out in the way that tells Santana she is holding back tears.
"Britt?" Santana breathes out with concern and haste. She stills her hand, fingers still buried inside of Brittany. "Brittany." She says her name again when her girlfriend doesn't respond verbally, but instead lets out a strangled sob she so desperately has been trying to hold on to and control. "Hey." She whispers, bringing her other hand up to cup Brittany's cheek, letting her thumb press into her chin.
The kiss to Brittany's forehead is what breaks her. She falls apart in Santana's arms prompting the fingers inside of her to be removed. Arms wrap around her half naked body and pull her close as she struggles to pull herself together. Santana tries her hardest to soothe the broken girl in her arms, but she feels useless. Even worse, she's responsible for all of this. All of these tears and uncertainty and awkwardness are her fault. Soon enough, she starts allowing a heavy stream of tears to flow from her own eyes.
"I am so sorry." Santana murmurs into blonde hair. "God, I'm so sorry." She repeats. It's the only thing she can think to say right now.
Everything is crashing down around them and the only words Santana can come up with are 'I'm sorry'. It's kind of a sad joke. The one person in the word Santana has ever tried to keep safe is the exact person she has hurt. 'I love you' is on the tip of her tongue, but she's afraid it'll ignite some much bigger fight with mean words that, though not meant, hurt just the same.
Even so, she deserves those words. She deserves to be torn down and ridiculed and all of that. She was wrong and in so many ways.
"I love you." It slips out of her mouth before she knows it. She didn't mean to, but apparently she has lost control of any and every thing.
Brittany's crying does not subside, but her hands flatten against Santana's chest and she pushes her. Uncertain if she is being pushed away or off of the bed, Santana pulls back to look at Brittany's face. Her eyes are still closed and her mouth is still turned upside down. With a sniffle, she pulls her girlfriend's head closer into her neck and rests her chin at the top of blonde hair. She tries to rub smooth circles on her back as Brittany continues to rack into fits of tears.
"Then why?" Brittany's question comes out as if she is choking on the words. It's so quiet that it barely comes out and Santana more or less feels the words reverberate against her body and into her heart rather than hear them with her ears. "Why?"
They lay there for a little while longer. Santana lets the words of 'why' and 'how could you' echo off of the walls of their guest room, because answering them right now would only cause more heartache on both parts. Not because the answers would be bad or hurtful, but because it would only bring them back to the beginning where they would just continue on in this vicious cycle of misunderstandings and unintended deceit.
When Brittany wakes up, she must have fallen asleep at some point, she is alone in the guest room and the door is closed. The spot in front of her and beside her is cold, letting her know that Santana has been gone for a while. The clock on the small dresser against the wall tells her that her other half is most likely sleeping by now, seeing as it is past midnight.
A part of her wants to pick herself up and out of this bed that feels so foreign against her body and grad herself into the living room and fall back asleep in Santana's arms. But the heavy weight in her chest is what anchors her further down into the mattress that smells nothing like the beautiful mixed scents of Santana and herself.
Work has been incredibly different than it normal is. Though they have worked their usual shifts together since the incident that has put a major dent in the fairytale world of Santana and Brittany, Quinn and Santana have been somewhat distant. It's not so much on purpose, really, but Quinn can't quite understand Santana's position. Yet, she also can somewhere, underneath all the bullshit, feel for her in this sad time.
Brittany's been over their apartment more and more, not wanting to be around Santana because they have yet to really sit down and discuss everything. Quinn had advised her that avoiding it for too long would only make everything worse, while Rachel agrees that Brittany has every right to give Santana the cold shoulder as well as the silent treatment for however long she feels necessary.
So, when Quinn gets to work and sees her staring off into space, she desperately wants to walk up behind her and slap in her in the back of her head. Not just for being a total idiot, but because now she's causing problems in her own relationship with Rachel. If they can't see eye to eye on the way other relationships go, then how can they see eye to eye on their own relationship? But, as she gets closer to her friend, she brushes that second part off, because her problems with Rachel are definitely not Santana's fault.
"You sure screwed this one up." Quinn says as she approaches Santana leaning at the counter at work.
"Thanks." She mutters to herself. "Great pep talk, Q." She rolls her eyes and spins around so her friend can see her disapproving glare.
"You asked for it, so I'm gonna give it." Quinn dishes.
"I don't recall asking for your two cents." Santana spits out in annoyance. It's enough that she sucks at life and knows it, but the being told is getting kind of old.
"Maybe not exactly, but as your best friend, I feel it's my duty to tell you when you've fucked up, royally." She tilts her head to the side as she pulls her apron around her waist and ties it in the back.
"I don't need to be reminded. Brittany does it enough for the both of you...and me." Santana sighs in frustration and sadness. "Besides, you have no idea." She shakes her head and gives her friend a good stare down.
"Here's what I do know." Quinn decides on after a few seconds of internal deliberation. "You were warned. I told you to watch your step." She quirks an eyebrow for good measure as her friend silently listens. "Practically begged you. But, no." She shakes her head and raises her hands as though impersonating Santana when she tried to give her all of the advice. "You knew better than all of us and look what happens when you don't listen." Quinn basically shouts in the rather empty kitchen as a mother would scold her child. "We all know, and by 'we' I mean Brittany and myself, that you're stubborn and think you're 'all knowing'." She rolls her eyes and shoves her pans and notepads into her apron pockets. "And most of the time that's why we love you." She reasons with a shrug of her shoulders. "But, this time you fucked up. Sometimes you've gotta just listen." With that, she takes a long breath and lets it out slowly. She watches as her words swim in and around Santana.
There's nothing else she can really say because they are at work and it's not the place to get into a long emotional and fucked up conversation. So, with a nod of her head that ends the small chit chat, she turns to go out to the dining room, leaving Santana alone to think about what she's done.
The shift goes as any shift would go. It's chock full of annoying customers as well as the really great tip that only balances out the extremely shitty tip. Santana pretends to enjoy her tables company and their astounding wit, placating them with fake chuckles here and there. Anytime she and Quinn cross paths, she considers pulling her aside to see exactly what Brittany has been telling her.
It's obvious that her girlfriend has been sharing some intimate details of this horrible situation with Quinn and probably Rachel too. God, she didn't even think about Rachel. That girl will most likely give her a good verbal smack down the next time they see one another. Kind of ironic too, considering it was only a few years ago that Rachel had been in some strange, yet similar predicament. She shakes her head at herself though.
The Jesse thing was completely innocent. One hundred percent innocent. There were no possibilities of anything going on there. Well, according to Rachel, Jesse had a girlfriend at the time and seeing as she was with Quinn, clearly nothing was going to arise from their reunion. Also, it's probably a little different, seeing as Jesse and Rachel had some sort of past anyway. Either way, this isn't even about Rachel and her stupid saga from ages ago. This is Santana's problem and one that she helped cause.
When work ends and she and Quinn are cashing out, she remembers that she had been desperate to talk to her best friend. It was only two days ago that she and Brittany had their little almost sex breakdown. She knows exactly what Quinn is going to say when she brings up how she and Brittany were flirting with the sexual boundaries since everything had come about. 'Sex doesn't solve everything'. She can even hear Quinn's annoying, nasally voice saying those words echoing in her mind.
Once they get out onto the sidewalk and are greeted by a gust of an early spring breeze, she feels a little bit of relief and freedom to just air it all out. She clears her throat and adjust the strap of her bag on her shoulder while Quinn's fingers move at a rapid pace across the screen of her cell phone.
"Umm," She begins awkwardly, but it catches Quinn's attention quickly and she lowers her phone to show she's listening. "So, the other day or night, I don't remember." Santana tries again, but with words this time. "Brittany didn't come out of the guest room all morning and it went into the day, so I decided to check on her." Quinn arches an eyebrow and nods her head. "Long story short, she asked me to lay with her. So, I did and then one thing led to another…"
"Sex doesn't solve everything, Santana." Quinn interrupts and Santana uses all her energy not to groan or roll her eyes.
"Well, we didn't, so that statement doesn't really apply." Santana corrects her friend's accusation. "I mean, we almost did, but…"
"What happened?" She asks as they come up to a corner and wait for some cars to move so they can continue on their way home.
"She kissed me." Santana breathes out, as if she'd been holding the air in for days. It sure feels like it, because she still can't really believe that Brittany had kissed her first. "I kissed her back and then her hands were up my shirt." Her eyebrows rise slightly as she recalls the events from the other day. "We were both, like, in sync and so I took the initiative." She glances over at Quinn who has been listening intently while remaining cool, calm and collected.
Normally, she'd throw out little comments about Santana sharing the intimate details of bedroom play between her and Brittany. And no matter how much she protested, Santana would just tell her anyway. But, this time is different. It's different because it's not Santana showing off her lust factor or gloating about how amazing her girlfriend is in bed. It's not even Santana boasting about her being awesome in bed. It isn't about mind blowing sex and orgasms. It's just about two people in a relationship, having problems and how it is affecting all aspects of their lives.
"Of course I made sure it was okay with her, because," She tilts her head to the side and lets out a sigh. "Well, it's been a while." Quinn nods in understanding. If there was one thing she knew from both sides of this fucked up equation, it's that sex has been sort of untouched territory as of recently. "But, then I started fingering her and then all of a sudden…" When the rest of the sentence seems to fade off into the spring breeze, Quinn looks over at her friend to find that her lips are still moving, only words are not coming out. Santana's head shakes from side to side and her eyes remain forward but not focused on anything.
"Was she not…?" Quinn isn't sure how to ask this question, it seems strange and she's not exactly a sex therapist or anything. How does one ask about their friend's arousal? Santana glances at her, briefly, then waves her hand in the air and shakes her head some more.
"No, she was wet." Santana replies easily.
It kind of makes Quinn wonder how Santana finds it so difficult to be more communicative with her girlfriend when she is so comfortable discussing her sex life, down to details. She's sure that there has to be some sort of confidence that goes along with that, she's just not sure what it is. Instead of commenting on that though, she just nods a few times and lets her gaze fall ahead once more.
"She just," Santana pauses for a moment when they come to the corner where they usual part. "She was crying." She shares in a soft voice full of uncertainty. "Not a little crying either, Q. She was sobbing." Her eyes fall to the ground where she watches her shoe kick at some pebbles. "And it wasn't the good kind of crying." Quinn sucks in her lips, nervously biting on the bottom one and tilts her head to the side.
"What are you gonna do then?" Quinn wonders aloud as the crowd around them continues on their way to and from work while they are at a standstill.
"What can I do?" Santana asks in defeat and runs her fingers through her hair. "She won't look at me. Not for long anyway." She clears her throat and swallows the uncomfortable lump in her throat that's been there for days.
"You know, she thinks that day that she saw you at the bar with her," Quinn chimes in after a few long moments of silence. "That you were ending things." Her lips purse and her eyes narrow, trying to see how Santana reacts to this bit of information. In true fashion, her eyebrows scrunch in the middle, forming a crease and her nose pinches at the bridge. "Yeah, I told her that wasn't true." Quinn nods, letting her eyes flicker off to the side for a moment. She knew that Santana was never involved with Trish, even if everything she had done up until that time at the bar did not make her look innocent. "She just, she thinks that everything you told her and every text you showed her, was to placate her. Like, you only showed her the not so bad, which was actually not so good either, to throw her off course." She further explains and the horror on Santana's face does not go unnoticed.
"How do I know she hasn't been going behind my back the entire time?" Brittany asks with saddened frustration. Kurt had invited her over before she had work so she can give him advice on his 'spring line' project for FIT. "I mean, for all I know, those times she was going to the library or where ever to study, she was with her." She closes her eyes and rubs the lids with the tips of her fingers at the thought of her girlfriend having an affair with that girl. Kurt, who has been trying to keep Brittany distracted with fabrics and stitching lets out a sigh and places down his pencil.
"Sweetie," He starts and places a comforting hand on his friend's thigh. "I really don't think Santana has it in her to do something like that, especially to you." He assures her with a light tap on her leg and he can tell she wants to smile because deep down, she knows that he is probably and most definitely right. "Are you going to talk to her? Are you guys even going to talk about all of this?" He questions, knowing that the duo have yet to go into it.
"Every time I try," She shakes her head before resting it on Kurt's shoulder and taking his hand in her own. "It's like my brain stops working and my heart beats super fast. Besides, everything I want to say to her is mean." Brittany admits shamefully.
"I don't think she can really blame you, bug." Kurt squeezes her hand and places a soft, friendly kiss to her hairline.
"The other night," Brittany takes a deep breath and twists her lips as she prepares to share the events of the other evening. "We almost had sex." She admits and she can tell by the way Kurt's chest swiftly rises that he is surprised. Hell, she's still shocked, not because they almost had sex but because they didn't. "I wanted to." She really wanted it, wanted Santana. "I really did." Her body craved Santana the way someone lost in a desert would crave water. She needed her; she needs her. "I just can't, couldn't stop imagining her with someone other than me." She quietly confesses. "Then I kept thinking about if she thinks of other people like that and then I just remembered everything all over again."
"Oh, Brittany." Kurt sadly sighs, pulling his hand out from Brittany's grasp and wraps his arm around her shoulders. "You two need to talk."
"I know." She mumbles, tugging on one of the strings that are hanging out of the pillow from the couch. "And tomorrow's my show." She reminds not only Kurt, but herself as well and she realizes that is probably what she should be focusing on. "Which I should go and prepare for."
"You're gonna be great." He tells her as she gets up from the couch, not really wanting to but knows she has to. "And I will be there with bells and whistles."
"Oh, we have music, you can leave those at home." Brittany waves the offer off and Kurt's perplexed look goes over her head.
The small auditorium is half filled, but she figures it's better than not filled at all. She recalls how Brittany told her at some point that they were spreading out the entire studios final shows over four days due to the differences in ages of the classes. The ticket promised was indeed waiting for her, right along with Quinn's who is by her side. Rachel and Kurt are meeting them, but Santana is kind of okay with that because she figures that they are anti-Santana right now.
In her hand is a bouquet of flowers she'd picked up on the way to the show. Quinn had agreed that flowers were a good idea, because they could at least remind Brittany that there is a sweet side to Santana even if no one else knows it. She nervously shifts the bouquet from hand to hand as they sit in the crowd awaiting the beginning of the show that Brittany's studio has prepared.
She is so excited and proud, but those feelings seem so tiny and insignificant all things considered. A part of her wishes that they could use this night to forget and at least pretend that everything is okay, for the sake of Brittany. More than anything, she hates that their relationship problems could in anyway make this night anything but memorable for her. She's worked so hard for this and tonight could open up so many doors and provide Brittany with so many opportunities.
Just before the lights dim and the mini dance troupes are introduced, Kurt and Rachel finally arrive. It's of no surprise to Santana that the two opt for the seats beside Quinn rather than the two she has next to her. Whatever, she thinks, regardless of what is going on, she doesn't feel like spending a whole hour and a half next to either of them. She wants to be allowed to become completely immersed in something that Brittany has created.
Santana sits there in amazement as she watches the way her girlfriend flawlessly choreographed her students' routine. She knows Brittany is a great teacher, hell, she taught most if not all of the Glee club in high school how to dance to their numbers. But, this, this was something incredible. She finds herself smiling when Brittany and the other teachers come out towards the end and do their own routine without their kids. It's then that Santana knows Brittany is going to be dancing for the rest of her life.
After a standing ovation for all of the classes and most importantly the teachers, the auditorium piles out into the hallway where parents find their kids and teachers talk. There are a few suits standing around with clipboards talking amongst one another and Santana wonders if these women and men are some big wig dance people. People that can make things happen for Brittany.
Quinn and Kurt are the first to spot her. She's walking towards them with a bashful, but wide, smile. They tell her how awesome she was and that she really whipped those kids into shape. Of course, she graciously lowers her head and says 'thank you'. But, she's not just thanking them for the compliments, she is thanking them for coming to the show in general. She stands there tightlipped when Rachel rants on about how the lighting could have been better and how specific shades can showcase facial features and dance moves.
By the time she reaches Santana, her head is in a whirlwind. Neither really gives it a second thought when they engulf one another in a tight embrace. They whisper things into each other's ears, like, 'I'm so proud of you' and 'I'm so happy you're here right now'. While they have a sort of momentary, physical and emotional reunion, the other three stand by awkwardly.
When they reach the outside world, the five of them decide this is a night to celebrate and they should go out for some drinks. The whole way there, while Rachel and Kurt discuss how he should look into getting a job making costumes for Brittany's studio when they have recitals, Quinn is busy keeping a respective eye on her best friends. Every couple of steps, Santana's hand brushes Brittany's and it looks as though they might finally grasp onto each other. But, it doesn't seem to happen. When Santana's hand moves away, Brittany's seems to follow the invisible path just to graze her fingers to the back of Santana's hand. It's a slow, unproductive kind torture for Quinn to watch.
She keeps her drinking at bay, just to be sober enough to tell Santana if she's being an asshole or to keep Brittany in check with her own emotions. The last time she was around a drunken Brittany, she was holding her shaking, sobbing body until she fell asleep on her couch. If there's anything she wants to avoid tonight, it's having the couple get into all of this drama in the middle of a bar and on a wonderful night that is supposed to be Brittany's.
Quinn wonders how long these two are going to dance around all of this. Sure, they'll drink tonight, maybe act like everything is completely fine. But, that's just tonight. What about tomorrow? Tomorrow morning when they wake up, with hangovers, are they even going to remember any of this masked kindness. The only thing that somewhat settles Quinn's worried mind is that she can still see it. Past the tears, broken pieces and the misplaced trust, she can still see all of the love that was there before.
The night of celebrating finally comes to a close and the group finds themselves parting ways at the corner. Kurt glances over his shoulder, catching the couple walking closely down the street and he too wonders how long this is going to go on for.
When Brittany and Santana get home, the comfortably ease themselves into the way the evening has been going thus far. Santana bounces to the kitchen, something she hasn't done in a while, and returns to the living room with a bottle of wine and two glasses. They sit on the couch, drink and make small talk about nothing in particular. At one point, Santana reaches out to grab Brittany's hand. She lets her, but only for a moment before she slowly tugs it from her grasp and awkwardly leaves Santana's hand by itself in the space between them.
Once they finish the bottle of wine, they wind up standing behind the couch, as though unsure of what comes next. Brittany turns to face the television and Santana steps behind her, wraps her arms around her waist and rests her cheek to the spot between her shoulder blades.
"Brittany." She breathes out and she makes the blonde's name sound so sad off of her tongue. "I need you." She adds in an even quieter voice.
With liquid courage in both of their systems, it's easier for them to forget it all, even if only for a few minutes. Their lips meet with unsure kisses and tentative hands. It's only been a few days since they've kissed or touched, but everything just feels different. Not bad different, just different. It even feels like they have been breathing completely different air. Brittany's hand rests on Santana's cheek, her thumb presses to the corner of her mouth as she kisses back. Santana's hands find Brittany's hips and the middle of her back.
They are slow and soft kisses with a hint of need and sadness. Their tongues hesitantly poke out, not wanting to push so hard that they burst this momentary bubble of ignorant bliss. Hands pull and tug on clothing and flesh alike. They moan and sigh into one another's mouths as they taste one another after what feels like an eternity.
But, then reality crashes in like a wave.
"Wait." Brittany whispers onto Santana's lips, even though she protests, her own lips keep moving. Her hand moves from her cheek to her shoulder and she pushes her away. "Wait, stop." She says a little bit louder, trying to dart away from Santana's lips. "I… we can't." She sucks in her lips and shakes her head as she hangs it, finally getting Santana to pull her lips away.
"What?" Santana finally asks when she steps away from Brittany.
"Nothing is resolved here and if we…" Brittany motions between them. "It'll only complicate things more." She explains and settles her hands on her hips in an uncomfortable fashion. "Plus, we've been drinking… a lot."
"Britt, we had such a great night." Santana reminds her. "We laughed and enjoyed each other's company." Sure, she understands that these are not the ingredients for an instant fix in their otherwise sort of cracked relationship. But, she figured, it was at least a step in the right direction so why shouldn't they celebrate it with kisses?
"We were being civil Santana." Brittany offers a reason for the good behavior.
Santana looks at her in a bit of shock. She scoffs at the statement and shakes her head as she takes a seat on the couch. Her eyes close and she clenches her jaw. It would figure that when she thinks it's safe to let that wall of uncertainty tumble down, Brittany only builds it right back up for her.
"I wasn't informed that being civil led to kissing." As soon as she says this she cringes. She pretty much walked right into this one.
"You would know all about that." Brittany spits out under her breath, but it's heard by Santana, and her shoes click clack all the way to the kitchen. From the rustling going on in the freezer, Santana knows Brittany is grabbing the vodka.
"That's not fair." She defends after she hears the clinking of ice cubes hit the glass, but Brittany just lets out an irritated chuckle. "Do you want to talk about this now? Or do you want to go on for another week pretending I don't exist?" Santana challenges, watching as Brittany comes back towards her, two glasses filled with ice and vodka.
"I wish it were that easy." Brittany mumbles, but she says it purposefully loud so Santana hears her.
"Let's make it easy then Brittany." Santana says nastily as she watches Brittany set the glass for her on the table. "What do I have to do?" She asks in defeat, but Brittany looks at the blank television and sips her drink. "What the fuck do I have to do to fix this?"
She leans forward to grab the vodka rocks that Brittany made for her and takes a big gulp once it hits her lips. Santana tries not to let it show, but the liquor burns her throat. Then again, Brittany isn't even looking at her so she can wince and grimace all she wants.
"So, you want to talk about it," Santana continues in an obnoxious tone when Brittany fails to respond. "But, you don't want to participate." She shakes her head and takes another sip. "Fucking typical." She says through another vodka throat burn.
"Don't talk to me like that." Brittany hisses, staring at Santana which catches her a little off guard. "Don't you dare." Santana shrugs and shakes her head, tearing her eyes from Brittany's.
"Well," She glances down into her glass. "I got you to talk to me." She tries not to look as Brittany sits down on the coffee table.
"I don't know what to say." Brittany yells in frustration, getting Santana to look at her, even though her eyes are focused on the spot beside her girlfriend. "What do you expect me to say?" She challenges. "That I forgive you?" Brittany asks hypothetically, her gaze shifting to meet Santana's. "I can't do that." She shakes her head and Santana can feel her chest tighten and her shoulders shrug.
"So, you're never going to forgive me?" Santana asks, sounding broken and surprised at the same time.
"That's not what I said." Brittany defends.
"You're not really saying much of anything." Santana points out.
"Santana," Brittany breathes and pinches the bridge of her nose between her index finger and thumb. "All you keep saying is that you want to fix this but you can't even admit that you were wrong."
"I want to fix this because I was wrong. Isn't that me admitting?" Santana counters. "Do you need, like, a play by play of all the things I was wrong about?" She wonders how deep into this mess Brittany wants to dive in.
"I asked you not to see her anymore." Brittany reminds her and she looks away. "I shouldn't have to ask you to distance yourself from someone who pushes the boundaries of your relationship. You should know better."
"Sorry." Santana says and leans her head in her hand.
"'Sorry' doesn't erase you going behind my back." Brittany tells her.
"Britt, it's not like I was seeing her with the intent of hurting you." She bites back, her frustration getting the best of her. And she's tired, so tired.
"What about that night at the bar? Hmm?" Brittany reminds her of the night she had gone and met up with Trish without telling her. "Took you a few days to finally feel guilty about it." She counters with a bit of snark.
"That's not true." Santana shakes her head; apparently she will be doing a lot of that tonight. "I just… I wasn't sure how to tell you without hurting you." She instantly places her glass down on the coffee table in front of her and jams the heels of her palms in her eyes.
"I can't do this." Brittany finally sighs. "It's like we're not here anymore." She shrugs her shoulders and stares down at her lap where her hands rest. "We're not us. We're just… going through the motions of this relationship. It's not fair." She announces as though there were other people in the room that should hear her. "To either of us. I feel like… I'm holding you back and…"
"You're not." Santana immediately blurts out.
"Well, maybe we are holding each other back." Brittany carefully words, her tone uncertain and scared. Santana's head jerks back and her mouth hangs open a bit.
"Why would you say something like that?" She asks in disbelief. Brittany closes her eyes and turns her head towards the other direction, anywhere but at Santana and she drops her chin to her chest. "I mean," Santana clears her throat and shifts in her seat uncomfortably. "If you feel that way, then…" Her eyes squint at Brittany, trying to find the girl she fell in love with beneath all of the rubble she herself has buried her under. She's still there of course, physically. But, the bright and bubbly, happy go lucky Brittany would never say something like this. She wouldn't even think it.
Instead of responding, Brittany shakes her head some more. Santana isn't sure if she is freeing her brain from overload, taking back what she just said, or that maybe she is trying to erase all of this even if for just a second. Instead of verbally responding, Brittany tosses back the rest of her drink and pushes herself up to a standing position. Santana watches her walk into the kitchen, only to return a few moments later with the bottle of vodka.
"More?" Brittany asks as she raises up the bottle, motioning to her own refilled glass. Santana looks down at her glass that only has a few sips left and figures that she might as well. They're finally diving in to this shit and it hurts and it sucks, so she decides that numbing the pain for a little while might not be a bad idea.