II.
The seats of the booth groan as the two girls flop down, shoving their Cheerio bags beside them. The blonde waitress (her hair now flecked with more grey) arrives carrying two menus and a bucket of fresh breadsticks. Santana instinctively snatches a breadstick before the bucket is even placed on the table and the waitress rolls her eyes. Though the two teenagers in front of her are regular customers, she wouldn't have so many grey strands on her head if they were at least slightly more polite.
"Thanks Jill," Brittany says without looking up from her menu. The waitress walks away, knowing that's the best she's going to get from them.
"God, I don't think my muscles have ever hurt so much. I'll show you where it hurts so much," Santana first points to her legs and then continues to gesture to whole her body, causing Brittany to laugh (a sound which Santana very much enjoys listening to; she'd consider making it her ringtone, but only creepy stalkers do that).
"Your hair hurts? We didn't use them to do those push-ups,"
"See, you'd think that, but it still aches. Everything aches," Santana buries her head into her arms, groaning as she discovers muscles she never knew she had as they scream in pain. Having only just recently joined the cheerleading team at her new high school has brought about a whole myriad of horrors Santana never thought existed until now; adolescent arthritis, an absolute hag of a cheer coach and repulsive, hormone driven, teenage boys drooling at her short Cheerio's uniform (perhaps she doesn't mind the last point all that much). She has to keep reminding herself that in the end, all the suffering will be worth it. She'll be the most popular girl in the school, and only a cheerleader can receive that honorary title (at least that's what happens in the movies). No pain, no gain, right?
"I'm just going to have to kiss everything better," Brittany says in a matter of fact tone. Santana pokes her head up from her arms, unsure what Brittany means from her remark. Being kissed by Brittany isn't anything new. They've experimented, but it's all in the name of practice, for when they meet hot boys. Nothing serious is going to come out of it. Nothing. Only this time, Brittany is hinting that she's going to kiss everything; they've only ever kissed each other on the lips. Even the thought of kissing anywhere else brings a blush on Santana's cheeks (she isn't sure if it's because of embarrassment or a sudden shyness).
"Everything?" Santana whispers.
"We're just going to have to see, aren't we?" Brittany flirts. She takes a breadstick from the bucket, and instead of eating it, she prods Santana on the nose and chuckles at the face she pulls (squinty eyes, scrunchy nose and all). "That Quinn girl seems nice," Brittany says absent-mindedly.
Santana is glad for the sudden change in topic. "And so is a lion," Santana is acutely aware of Quinn. She's acutely aware of how far she will go to undermine Santana and be the popular one instead. She already has her eyes set on Finn, who Santana wouldn't touch even if she was offered a million bucks (she still remembers the dirt lining his lips after being dared to eat it back in grade school), but Santana will tolerate her for now. If Brittany can, Santana can too. Perhaps they can help each other reach the top, but Santana won't share the position; she'll decide what she'll do with Quinn once it gets to that stage.
"A lion?" Brittany chuckles, "if we're going to compare people to animals, I guess that makes you..." she looks around the restaurant, as if expecting to find an answer in the room.
"A panther. Or a lynx," Santana answers immediately, finishing Brittany's sentence (No, she hasn't thought about it before. Not at all).
"Actually, I was thinking more of a hamster, or a little duckling," Brittany grins, yet another mischievous grin.
Santana gives Brittany an incredulous face. A hamster or a duckling? Those aren't impressive animals. Lions probably eat them for afternoon snacks. Santana feels slightly offended that Brittany would even compare her to such pitiful creatures. Surely Brittany knows Santana better than that and she can't help but feel a little hurt.
"Really Britt?"
"Yeah! I could fit you into my pocket and take you everywhere,"
Santana has no words and once again drops her head into her arms, groaning the whole way; partly from the pain, and partly from Brittany being...well...Brittany.
Brittany chuckles and takes a breadstick from the bucket. "Hey," Brittany calls softly. Santana looks up, and Brittany pokes Santana on the nose with the end of the breadstick for the second time today. Santana's eyes cross and cause Brittany to laugh even harder. "Fine, you can be a panther. As long as you're there to protect me from scarier animals,"
This seems to satisfy Santana. "Always,"
The girls fall into a comfortable silence and as if on cue, Jill returns to the table.
"Ready to order?"
"Yep. Can I have the chicken salad?" Santana replies, without having touched her menu
"Same for me. And can we get a side order of fries?" Jill scribbles this all down and takes the menus as she walks back to the kitchen.
" Fries Britt? Coach Sue will kill us,"
"Relax Santana. We'll burn them off next training session. She won't notice a thing," Santana has always admired Brittany's carefree attitude to everything. She realizes how important it is to have someone like Brittany in her life; otherwise she'd probably implode from all the stresses that life can offer a fourteen year old. Sometimes she tries hard to employ Brittany's mindset, but struggles to even get close.
The food arrives quickly and they're wolfing everything down, not realizing how hungry they are until now. Their conversation travels from school work and bitching about their Cheerio teammates to Lord Tubbington's strange obsession with feather dusters. Just as they finish an argument about how spider monkeys can't shoot web from their behinds (Brittany insists they actually shoot web from their wrists like Spiderman), Santana feels Brittany's knee nudge her own. She takes a glimpse under the table and is surprised to see their legs tangled together. Had they always been tangled together? Santana wonders, and were Brittany's legs always that long? She looks back up at Brittany, hoping for an explanation, but all she gets is Brittany biting her lower lip, a subtle smirk drawn on her lips.
"Hey," Brittany says shyly.
"Hi?" Santana replies back, unsure of where this is headed.
"Can I have the last fry?" Sure enough, when Santana looks down at the bowl, there is one single fry left. She had planned to let Brittany eat all the fries; she didn't want to sabotage her position in the Cheerios, but somehow ended up eating more than half the bowl. Well, someone had to make sure Brittany didn't eat the whole bowl herself; she could get a heart attack from all that cholesterol or something. Santana lets out a sigh and grins at herself, shaking her head at her wild imagination. All Brittany wanted was a fry. Nothing more.
"Of course. You don't have to ask you know, just take it,"
Brittany smiles and takes the fry, but before putting it into her mouth, she rips it in half and holds one half out for Santana. Santana smiles and reaches for the offered half-fry, but Brittany shakes her head. "Nu-uh. Open wide!" Brittany sings.
If they were at school, Santana would never allow Brittany to feed them with the whole school watching them, but Breadstix is relatively empty, and no one seems to be paying them any attention, so she opens up her mouth and sticks her tongue out, waiting for Brittany to feed her the fry. Brittany shuts one eye to help her aim, sticks her own tongue out and throws the chip, landing perfectly in Santana's waiting mouth. "Score!" Brittany fist-pumps the air, "I love feeding the ducks."
Santana rolls her eyes at Brittany, and chooses to ignore the last statement. Instead she laughs along, savoring the greasiness of the fry in her mouth. "Come on Lebron, let's get going," Santana says as she grabs her bag from the edge of her seat, "I think my bus comes soon,"
"I thought we were going back to my house," It's not a question, but a statement. Santana pauses, puzzled. It's a weekday night, and she has a pile of homework on her desk to catch up on. She tells Brittany this, but all she does in return is shake her head.
"Your muscles still hurt, don't they? I have to kiss everything better," She grabs her and Santana's bags, and heads off to pay the bill. Santana looks after her, glad that Brittany can't see the blush in her cheeks.