NA: I was specially inspired for this chapter. I am, for a change, pleased with the result. Hopefully you'll agree. Also, louicorn, thank you so much. I hope this lives up to your review.
(I know, beloved ones, I own you an update with Fate's Hands. I'll get to that soon.)
06
They fight, a lot. Disagreements are plenty and bitter, and both of them are unafraid to voice them to each other. Brittany dislikes when someone flirts with Santana, but what can Santana do if she's a hot piece of ass? It happens whether she wants it or not, and she hasn't act on it once. Even though they still have to figure out their agreement, Santana doesn't do as much as look at another woman. Endless Legs Blonde is more than she can handle at times, and more women do mean more trouble more often than not.
Brittany is becoming increasingly busy, as well. Santana arrives on time and thinks it's disrespectful to be kept waiting – something her old grandma imprinted on her, probably. So when she has been waiting at an Indian restaurant for 54 minutes, she just leaves. Thirty minutes later, there's a call from Busy Blonde asking where she is. They fight on the phone, and then they fight at the little dirty bar Santana found her way to, because Blonde doesn't do it on purpose and Santana doesn't accept being second place to anything else. Of all people, Kurt is the one to call her the next day and tell her to drop her diva act because she's hurting Britt and whatnot. She yells with him and tells him to mind his own business – who did he think he was, to intrude in her personal life with such certainty and closeness? She tells him he is not a part of her relationship to Brittany, in spite of any public convenient arrangement of theirs.
Santana hates the gossip magazines, so intrusive and revealing. They show Dancing Days Blonde hand in hand with Kurt – who even manages to look straight in those calculated public appearances –, in parties with Kurt, and, this one time, kissing Kurt. She and Brittany fight over it, because Santana is someone's dirty, little secret, and why do they have to put so much effort into this act, but it's for the best, and Santana should know it doesn't mean anything. They're in Santana's apartment, lucky enough, and no one gets to know they're making a scene and Santana is starting to yell in Spanish when she decides to take a shower to cool off. Blonde goes after her a few moments later, undressing and standing with her under the cold water. The makeup sex that follows is mind-blowing.
Things go more smoothly in her professional life, thankfully. Santana lives such a cheap life that the payment for the mural in Kurt's house can last several months if she's careful. Santana leaves her other job when another Broadway Singer, Rachel Berry, hires her to paint a huge wall in her living room. It seems that this Berry woman – incredibly short, obnoxious and loud – has this little competition with Kurt, from what Santana has picked up. They are always trying to overcome each other, hit a higher note, get another solo and start the biggest productions. Santana finds it funny and prefers to ignore it, as it had at least given her another job.
Rachel Berry earns her respect on a sunny day, when Santana stops painting to drink some juice and hears her sing. It's lovely and mesmerizing and it makes Santana feels bad about her own voice, which is a lot more husky and raw than the one she is hearing. Rachel is about to get her first lead in a musical, and she just can't stop practicing. It takes no time for Santana to know each song by heart, and she hums along, each stroke of her brush in sync with the melody.
The best thing about being there is not the decoration, the endless supply of orange juice she is given, or the sheer satisfaction of being given a deadline, a purpose, and the necessary materials. The best thing about being in Rachel Berry's house is a Friday afternoon that Santana gets to see the precious moment when Berry opens the door and kisses a blonde woman on the lips, telling her to come in for a moment because she has a call to make and when the blonde enters the house it's no one but Quinn.
Santana smiles her best Santana smile, as this is so juicy and so exquisitely hilarious. Quinn blushes furiously and doesn't move once she spots Santana. She asks about Puck, only to hear they just hooked up a few times. The dots connect themselves: the secrecy, the dressing up for every single date, the new haircut, the Republican Daddy Girl act that matched so well Berry's elegance and style. When Berry comes back the silence is heavy. The tiny woman apologizes for not introducing them, but Santana interrupts to say they are well acquainted. When the couple leaves, Santana can't stop laughing. Such a lesbian.
Later on, she tells it all to Brittany, who giggles and almost lets her ice cream fall on the ground. A teenage boy interrupts them to ask for Brittany's autograph and makes Santana extra aware of their necessity to display a public facade. It bothers Santana, even if she tries not to show it. Going out with Narnia Kurt and Sweet Eyes Blaine has been drawing more and more attention. Brittany herself has been gathering more and more attention. Santana is not famous in any way, she knows that. She gets the side attention, being the artist who paints famous people's houses and hangs out with a few of them.
Brittany turns her attention back to Santana and she's adorable and sincere. Santana tries to get those thoughts out her head. They begin to walk, side by side, shoulders brushing, until they reach Santana's place. It bothers Santana that she still hasn't seen Brittany's apartment, but there's always paparazzi in the neighborhood and it wouldn't be safe, or so Blonde says. Santana opens the door for Brittany and gets herself a beer before sitting on the couch. Brittany straddles her lap, as it seems to be on her list of favorite things to do, and makes Santana put down the beer. They look at each other, long fingers caressing Santana's face. Brittany asks if Santana is still mad at her.
How can Santana not be sad when she sees Blonde in a gossip magazine in a make out session with someone else? She explains it and reaches for her bottle once more, taking a few long sips. Brittany sets it aside again, and it's not fair how she's on top of Santana, monopolizing her attention and not giving her anything else to focus on but this argument. Santana's hands go to the back of Handsome Devil's thighs, supporting her weight and marking territory. "I don't like it," she says, "and I've asked you not to do that."
"It doesn't matter, San," Blonde whispers, tracing feather kisses on Santana's forehead, nose, and jaw line. Santana closes her eyes and sighs, not very convinced. "You matter," Snake Enchanter Blonde whispers over and over again, kissing Santana's chin, neck, shoulders, until Santana stops her and searches for her mouth. Santana's hands sneak under Bombshell's shirt, pulling her as close as possible. She basks in the kiss, tongue exploring the entirety of the blonde's mouth, pulling her lower lip, sucking on her tongue, because she doesn't know how many more times she will be able to do that. She doesn't have the girl, she can't claim Brittany as hers in any other way than that, gestural and private.
Santana's kisses go to Blonde's neck, open mouthed and hot. She needs to drink Brittany, to savor her whole. When she takes off the other woman's shirt, she's hoping she's making herself understood. She's growing attached to Bombshell, she's falling for her and she doesn't want it to end even though she sees no future for them. She hasn't said she's in love with Brittany. It hurts Goddess, she knows, but she can't bring herself to say it and let the other woman hold all the cards. They have been fighting all the time, but they are making up all the time and Santana's beer lies forgotten when Blonde moans her name.
She looks at the Aphrodite on her lap, perfect abs and perfect breasts and perfect lines and perfect swollen lips. "You're gorgeous," she breathes out in adoration. Aphrodite smiles softly and tilts her head to the side a bit, blonde long hair falling on Santana. Her hands take off Santana's shirt, tracing her lace bra immediately after and giving Santana a questioning look. "Well, you know," Santana says, "just in case you came over afterwards." Sex Bomb Blonde bites her lower lip and cups Santana's breasts over the bra, whispering me gusta. "Muy bien", Santana answers, hands going higher under skirt.
Pale fingers run over her breasts, her neckline, and stop at her lips. "Hey, San," Brittany says, "I could break up with Kurt." Santana's heart races and she uses her hands to pull Blonde closer. She is barely processing anything when Brittany talks about the agents, and maybe a public, consensual breakup. Kurt had agreed already, so it would be just a question of figuring out why and how. A few appearances after that to show they were friends still and things would be solved. Santana's left hand goes to the back of Brittany's neck and she pulls Blonde in for a kiss, back arching so they're skin against skin. "Si, si, si, si," she says between kisses. "I'd like that." Blonde's bra goes to the ground, as does her skirt. She smiles in the kiss. "Thank you," Santana says, but what she means is I'm so head over heels for you.
Santana takes her to the bedroom. There's no time to lose if Blonde can't stay over the night because of some irrelevant meeting. The sun is setting outside and she doesn't bother to close the windows, wanting the light to fall over Brittany and make her skin glow. Her investment on underwear pays off when she takes off her pants and Blonde looks at her like she's the most desirable thing alive. Soon enough she's being pushed to the mattress and she's not complaining to have Dancer on top of her, undulating her body so skillfully and pressing her thigh against her in a way she forgets how to breathe.