Her Smile Heals Me (part 15)
April 2009
Santana pushed the digital buttons on the front of the microwave to start it then turned to a nearby cabinet to pull out a large, plastic bowl. She stepped over to the refrigerator with a clear cup and added some crushed ice to it from the automatic ice dispenser on its front door, turning around and filling the cup with soda. The microwave timer sounded that her popcorn was ready so she pulled out the bag, grabbing it at the edge because of how hot it was. She ripped open the red bag, careful not to burn her face with the escaping steam, and poured the white, fluffy kernels into the large bowl.
She started toward the staircase when the doorbell rang. Shifting the oversized bowl to balance with the same arm as she held her drink, she moved toward the front door and pulled up on her toes to look out the peephole.
Opening the wooden door, Santana said, "I thought you weren't coming?"
"I never said that...," Brittany responded with a huge smile, stepping out of the snowfall and into the warmth of Santana's house. She quickly brushed off the powdery snowflakes onto the entryway rug then tugged off her mittens and removed her coat, hanging it on one of the mounted hooks by the doorway. "It's cold out there…it just started snowing," she told Santana who turned to walk back toward the stairs.
"I was headed to my room," the Latina stated dryly.
"Is that popcorn?" Brittany excitedly flitted up behind her, reaching around to snatch a handful of the kernels, "Yum."
"My parents are out…I got hungry."
"This is your dinner?" Brittany asked, following Santana up the stairs and around the corner to her bedroom, "You really need to eat more, Santana."
"I was going to order a pizza when you got here…but it got late," Santana stressed the second part.
"Wait, are you mad at me?" Brittany pulled off her sneakers and closed Santana's bedroom door behind them, "I thought I told you I had plans with Puck then I'd be here after that."
Santana sat her drink down on a coaster on her bedside table then settled cross-legged on her bed, her bowl of popcorn in her lap, "Puck? No…I think I'd remember that."
"I think you only hear about half of what I say," Brittany said teasingly, circling the bed to the opposite side from Santana and unbuttoning her Levi's.
"What are you doing?" Santana asked, her brow furrowing.
"My jeans got wet from the snow," Brittany said matter-of-factly, pulling the denim off and laying them over Santana's desk chair, "…see…now they'll dry."
Santana licked at her plump lips and swallowed hard as she watched Brittany in her underwear move from the desk to the television where she picked up the remote and returned to the bed. She cast her glance downward once she consciously realized she was watching the muscles in the blonde's long legs and the exposed part of her backside that showed from under her blue panties.
"Did you want some sweatpants?" Santana offered, looking down at her bowl.
"Nah, I'm getting under the covers…," Brittany responded, pulling back Santana's black bedspread and sliding under it then reaching for another handful of popcorn, "I really love your new room, Tan…I still can't believe we convinced your mom to let us paint it black."
"Yeah, she makes a comment every time she comes in now," Santana paused before adding, "So, Britt…what's going on with you and Puck? Are you two dating?"
"Sex is not dating, Santana…you taught me that," Brittany grinned and grabbed another handful of popcorn.
Santana was quiet a moment, processing a sudden influx of thoughts.
"Why?" Brittany realized there was a serious look on her best friend's face, "Do you have feelings for him? Cause I would never want to get in your way of dating him."
"Um, no…I mean…we have fun sometimes…I guess," Santana reflected momentarily then regrouped, adding in a more carefree tone, "No, whatever, it's cool…sex is not dating…so I don't care."
"Something's bothering you…what's going on?"
Santana set her mostly-empty bowl down on the floor beside the bed. "Do you ever get tired of having sex with these guys?"
"It's ok, I guess…it's usually over so fast anyway," Brittany shrugged, "It makes us popular…and that makes Coach Sylvester happy…so it works out…right?"
"Right…I guess," Santana answered, picking up her cup to take a sip of soda then handing the cup to Brittany, "Want some?"
The popularity was really the only focus for Santana too. Anytime she was with Puck or any of the other faceless high school jocks, the act of sex was pretty mindless for her. Half the time she thought about what all she needed to do once she got out there…homework, laundry, cheer practice…and the other half the time she thought about…Santana looked to her immediate right and saw the blonde next to her. The brunette innately drew in a deep breath that caught in her chest as a sudden heat moved swiftly through her entire body.
"I do wish guys knew how to kiss better though...," Brittany took a sip then another before handing the cup back to Santana, "I really like kissing…but none of them are any good at it."
"I try not to kiss them too much," Santana revealed.
"Most guys are all open mouth and tongue…just sloppy yuck," Brittany frowned.
"True…and I don't need to be slobbered all over like I'm making out with a St. Bernard," Santana felt physically repulsed at the thought.
"There's actually an art to kissing," Brittany stated with a smile, "I think I'm pretty good at it."
"You do, huh?" Santana giggled.
"Yes…want me to demonstrate?" Brittany asked innocently.
Santana's face froze, thoughts flying through her head. Wait, what did she just say? There is no way she just asked if I want her to kiss me, Santana told herself. Or did she? This is insane. Take a deep breath, Santana…
"Santana?" Brittany prompted with a slight nudge.
"Huh?" the Latina blinked several times, coming back to the reality of the bed, and her best friend in her bed, and her best friend's offer of kissing her in her bed, "Yeah…show me."
Brittany smiled at the friendly challenge before leaning over and placing a gentle kiss on Santana's lips.
The amount of electricity Santana felt from just that one kiss was overwhelming to the 15-year-old, and she swallowed hard but said nothing.
"Wait though…I can do better than that," Brittany smiled, "I need a better angle…lay back."
Oh god…Santana suddenly felt dozens of butterflies in the pit of her stomach, but she allowed herself to be pushed back against the pillow behind her. The next sensation Santana felt was Brittany shifting in the bed until she was slightly on top of her followed by the blonde's hands up around her jawline, pulling her into a solid kiss. Santana opened her lips further to allow Brittany to deepen the kiss. The two girls maneuvered their lips and hands…not at all sloppy, Santana mentally noted…then unexpectedly, Santana felt Brittany slip her tongue into her mouth. The brunette instantly felt an intense heat deep in her groin as the best friends continued to kiss for several minutes.
Brittany broke the kiss, raising up slightly on her left elbow and smiling, "See…I'm a good kisser, huh?"
Santana had to shake clear the fog in her head before she could verbalize an answer. "Yes…excellent."
"You are too," Brittany told her encouragingly, "You sure you don't kiss those guys more than you admit?" Brittany giggled at her own little joke.
"None of them kiss like that," Santana felt her entire body tremble.
"Are you cold?" Brittany asked, sensing the nuance of her best friend's body below her.
"No…too warm actually," Santana didn't want to sweat from her building, internal heat, starting to unbutton the top couple of buttons on her red, plaid flannel shirt.
"Ohhh…I've got you all hot and bothered, huh?" the blonde teased playfully, "Here…take this off."
This is not happening, Santana repeated several times in her head but still sat up slightly to remove the shirt once Brittany unbuttoned the bottom portion, revealing her white, ribbed tank underneath it.
"Better?" Brittany asked.
"Thanks," Santana said, tossing it down to the floor.
"I really like kissing you," Brittany stated bluntly.
Santana found herself nodding but no sound was coming out of her open mouth. So many times before this moment, Santana had looked at her best friend's mouth and envisioned what her lips would taste like, never believing it would ever actually happen. Brittany's lips were like nothing she could have imagined. They were soft and smooth, and her kisses were delicate but purposeful.
"I like kissing you too," Santana responded, nearly breathless.
Brittany leaned forward and kissed the Latina again.
June 2011
Mrs. Lopez opened the top drawer on Santana's dresser and placed a stack of freshly washed and neatly folded t-shirts inside it, pushing it closed. She ran an extended index finger across the top of the dresser, picking up several weeks worth of undisturbed dust. Her heart sank at the realization of how long her only child had been gone from their home.
She moved over to push in Santana's desk chair slightly and straighten the throw pillows on her bed, picking one of them up and taking in a deep breath, knowing how much it smelled like her daughter. Tears formed in her dark brown eyes. She turned and sat down on the side of Santana's bed to steady herself. A silver-framed picture of the former Cheerio caught her eye, and she reached out a hand to pick it up off the bedside table.
Mrs. Lopez ran her finger delicately over the glass-protected face of her beautiful daughter, happily-clad in her cheerleading uniform. She mentally reflected that Santana had always been a beautiful child with thick, dark hair and large, chocolate eyes that always held a bit of mystery behind them. Her mother recalled how independent and stubborn Santana had always been growing up, always wanting to do things for herself, without any assistance. Mrs. Lopez had always wanted a daughter she could doll up in fancy dresses and bows. She had tried, in fact, to style Santana in that direction only to be met with further resistance when Santana insisted on more practical clothing.
The older Latina set the frame back on the nightstand, remembering when they allowed Santana to pick out the dark-colored wooden furniture. She looked around the room at the jet black walls and laughed. "I always hated this color, Santana," she said aloud.
She pulled on the tiny, silver knob to open the drawer of the bedside table, digging through it out of curiosity. She pulled out a paperback book and thumbed through it, realizing she really knew nothing of Santana's interests in books or movies, none of the little details that mothers should know about their children. A deep sadness washed over her at how distant she had become from her child over the last several years.
Tucked into the middle of the book were three photographs. Mrs. Lopez pulled them out, seeing they were of Santana with Brittany. The first one was of the girls in their red and white Cheerios uniforms, standing together after a cheer team competition. The second one was of Brittany giving Santana a piggy-back ride, both of them laughing and obviously having a good time. Mrs. Lopez touched Santana's face in the picture, tears welling up in her aging eyes over the loss of her child's happier days.
She moved that picture to the back of the group to reveal the final image, her breath instantly catching in her chest. The third photograph was of the two girls in a tighter embrace, kissing each other sweetly on the lips, the New York City skyline behind them. Mrs. Lopez turned the photo over. On the back, Brittany had written in red ink: I love you a million times over! Britt
Santana's mother studied the third picture, focusing on every detail of it until she realized she was looking at the youthful faces of true love. It was the same illustration of love Mrs. Lopez picked up on when Santana was in the hospital after the rape. She watched Brittany that week keep a vigil over Santana's bedside every day until she was released, having to be reminded to eat and sleep. That was when Santana's mom finally grasped that there was more than friendship in Brittany's eyes.
"Well, Noah Puckerman says he hasn't seen her either," a masculine voice stated behind Mrs. Lopez, shaking her from her memory.
She turned around to find her husband standing in the doorway of Santana's room
"I talked to Judy Fabray earlier…she hasn't seen her recently, but Quinn wasn't home…," she told him, "…she said she would talk with her as soon as she could and get back with me."
"This is getting ridiculous…somebody is covering her whereabouts, and I'll be damned if I will be made a fool of in this town."
"Hector, this is no longer about you…our daughter is out there somewhere…and she desperately needs help," Mrs. Lopez tried to remind him.
"Our daughter brought this on herself," Dr. Lopez retorted.
"I never should have let you send her away," the older Latina said sadly.
"She has only brought shame to this family."
"She is struggling, Hector…no different than you and I did when we first married…against your mother's wishes."
"My mother had no issue with our marriage," he challenged.
Santana's mother laughed, "You do have short a memory then…she hated me for getting pregnant…shaming your family and trapping you, she always said, when all she wanted was for you to go to medical school."
Dr. Lopez swallowed hard, "Well…I continued on to medical school despite our untimely marriage, did I not?"
"Yes…but she hated me more when I had a miscarriage…or have you forgotten our son too?"
Dr. Lopez looked down at his feet and shifted but did not say anything.
Mrs. Lopez thumbed back through the photographs she held in her aging hands, tears falling from her eyes, "…and now we've lost our daughter too."
Cate slowed down to turn into Quinn's driveway, pulling the Jetta up next to her motorcycle that was parked to the side of the garage.
"Hey, wake up…," Cate gently shook Quinn.
"Huh? Did I fall asleep?" she said groggily, sitting up in the passenger seat, "What time is it?"
"Late...," Cate said, looking at the time on the digital clock set inside the dash to see that it was 1:28 AM.
"That's such a long drive to make there and back in one day…thank you so much for going with me and Brittany," Quinn told Cate as she opened the passenger door to get out.
"Yeah, over ten hours in a car in one day is brutal…my neck is killing me," Cate confirmed, circling around the front of the car to close Quinn's door behind her, "But I don't mind…with such good company."
"Company who slept the last two hours?" Quinn self-chided, linking her arm through Cate's as they walked up the path to the front porch.
The tall brunette handed Quinn her keys so she could open the front door, unintentionally yawning, "Sorry…tired."
Quinn leaned to kiss Cate lightly on the lips. Seeing how weary her eyes were, she told her, "Ok, you're in no condition to drive home on a motorcycle."
"No worries…I'll be fine."
"Yes, worries…come with me…," Quinn pulled the older girl inside the house with her.
Cate dutifully followed behind Quinn up the large staircase, stopping when the blonde paused at the top to turn and motion down the left side of the hallway, "Shhh…my mom's room is down there."
The two continued to the right until they were inside Quinn's spacious bedroom.
"Make yourself comfortable," she told Cate with a smile as she moved into the interior restroom, "I'll be out in a minute."
Cate smiled back, watching Quinn disappear behind the closed door.
The brunette slid her hands into the front pockets of her ripped jeans and shifted her stance. Standing there alone, she felt awkward and didn't really know what to do. She looked around the room, mentally noting that the elegant blue and white décor matched the image of the refined teenager whom she so desperately wanted to know more about. Cate saw a large bookcase on a side wall which was filled with hardback books. She noticed a few framed pictures on a small table next to a white arm chair and stepped across the room to pick one of them up, smiling as she looked into the face of a younger Quinn Fabray.
Cate was setting the frame back down when she heard the restroom door open, and she turned around to see Quinn had changed into a pink gown and washed the makeup from her face.
"I'm hoping you're too tired to remember tomorrow what I look like without makeup," Quinn joked with a slight edge of vulnerability.
"I think you look stunning," Cate responded honestly, nervously sliding her hands back into her jeans' pockets.
"Ahh, then you are tired…," Quinn laughed and crossed the room to put her arms around Cate, hugging her, "I thought I said make yourself comfortable?"
"I'm comfortable…," Cate removed her hands from her pockets to wrap them around Quinn, "…this is comfortable."
"At least take your shoes off," Quinn said, stepping back to look down at Cate's feet.
"Okay," the older girl smiled.
While Cate kicked off her Doc Marten boots, Quinn walked over and turned on her bedside lamp then walked to the wall to turn off the overhead light.
"Sooo…um…I'll just chill out over here then," Cate motioned to the arm chair.
"No, you can't get decent sleep fully clothed in a chair all night...come on, the bed is plenty big to share," Quinn took Cate by the hand, leading her over to the bed. She turned toward the older girl and suggested, "Feel free to take this off," as she tugged on Cate's button down, blue-plaid shirt.
Cate cautiously unbuttoned the buttons on the front of her shirt, removing it to reveal a black tank top underneath, and tossed it gently to the side.
"Ok, now these…don't be bashful," Quinn winked, motioning to Cate's pants.
Cate paused a second, thinking that she was probably blushing at this point, then unzipped her baggy jeans and stepped out of them, revealing a pair of gray boxer briefs.
"See…better, right?" Quinn teased, moving onto the bed, crossing over to the other side and patting the empty portion, "I promise not to kick you in my sleep."
The taller girl settled into the bed. She twisted her neck slightly to the left then to the right, feeling a deep ache in it.
"Is your neck still bothering you?" Quinn noticed.
"It's a little stiff."
"I'm sorry, I feel bad…I should have driven more than I did," she apologized with a frown.
"It's ok, really…it'll work itself out," Cate responded, stretching the muscles again.
"No, turn over and let me massage it for you."
Cate reluctantly turned over onto her stomach at Quinn's insistence. Quinn moved Cate's wavy hair to the opposite side then slowly but firmly massaged her neck and shoulder.
"What's the significance of your tattoo?" Quinn inquired, reading the inscription I Am the Captain of My Soul inked at the base of Cate's neck.
"It's from the poem Invictus by William Ernest Henley."
"What's the poem?" Quinn asked, continuing to massage Cate's back.
"Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll…," Cate turned back over to look up at Quinn, finishing softly, "I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul."
Quinn smiled sweetly at her, "That's beautiful."
"It got me through some very dark nights…," Cate confessed, "…until I finally convinced myself that I am in control of my destiny…even if that destiny isn't exactly what I would like it to be."
Quinn paused in reflection. Cate watched as Quinn's mind took her away from the present for a moment, but once she returned, she said, "How old are you?"
"I turned 20 last month…but I'm like a cat…," Cate laughed, "I'm on about my fifth life at this point."
The blonde laughed with her, "Oh, well I'm glad I met you before you got to your ninth one."
"Nah, I'm on the right track now," the brunette assured her.
"I'm still really glad I met you," Quinn smiled, reaching over her to turn off the lamp, then she settled closely to the older girl, draping her arm across her chest and laying her head on her shoulder.
"Me too…," Cate confirmed, squeezing Quinn gently.
"Hello?" Rachel answered her pink, sparkly phone Thursday night.
"Rach…It's Britt."
"Brittany…how are you?"
"Did you get the dress?" Brittany inquired, "I was afraid to call my mom to ask."
"Yeah, I did…and my dad gave it to the police today."
"Good…I hope that will help the case against Karofsky."
"The district attorney said that they might be able to get enough evidence from it to issue a new search warrant," Rachel told her.
Brittany asked, "Did my mom say anything about me when you were there?"
"No, everything seemed fine…but it was best that you went back, Britt."
"I know…," Brittany paused, "…um, have you heard from Santana yet?"
"No…you haven't?" Rachel asked sadly.
"Nothing…," Brittany's heart sank in her chest, "Quinn hasn't either."
"We'll find her, Britt…my dads are looking, ok?"
"Puck!" Quinn yelled out over the blasting of Arcade Fire and clanking of metal in the Puckerman garage.
Setting his weights back on the frame, Puck sat up and said, "Sorry, didn't hear you walk up."
"I wonder why?" Quinn stated sarcastically.
Puck stood and turned off the loud music then grabbed a white towel off the nearby tool bench, wiping the sweat from his face and arms.
"What's up?" he asked.
"Have you seen Santana?"
"Not since last week…why?"
"We can't find her."
Puck set the towel down and leaned back against a work bench that was built into the wall. "I feel horrible about what happened," he confessed.
"I think we all do," Quinn said sadly.
"No, I mean…I gave her that alcohol...," he confessed, "…dumb, huh?"
Quinn drew in a deep breath then sat down on an old chair. "I feel horrible too…I got carried away with my 'tough love' approach…it totally backfired."
"I'm really worried about her…just when I think she's hit rock bottom, she finds a new bottom," he said, his voice thick with concern.
"Nobody's seen or heard from her in three days."
"We could go look for her together," he suggested, "I can get a quick shower."
"Oh, I can't…I'm meeting someone for lunch."
Puck looked her up and down, noting how nicely she was dressed, "…is this a date?"
Quinn smiled sheepishly, "…maybe."
"Quinn Fabray…hmm…so who's the lucky guy?" Puck teased.
Quinn hesitated before stating, "Cate Boyd."
"Cate? That's a weird name for a guy…what is he one of your parents' fancy country club peeps?"
"It's short for Catherine," Quinn shrugged.
Puck grimaced, running his large hand over his mohawk to flatten it, "EVEN WORSE. Damn, that dude is in for a lifetime of locker room wedgies."
"That dude…is a girl, Noah."
Puck's jaw dropped and several seconds passed before he finally said, "What is it with you Cheerios? Is it the skirts? Cause I still think they are crunchy toast…I mean, they definitely give me a hard…."
"Puck! It's not the skirts…," Quinn interjected, "…we're just like everyone else…we're all trying to find the person we're meant to be with…it's just that for some of us, it's more complex."
"Okay…well, as long as 'Cate' treats you with the respect you deserve then…I promise to be nice…and not give her a wedgie," Puck winked at Quinn who smiled back.
Author's note: I know everybody wants to know what's happened to Santana. Patience, grasshoppers. ;) I assure you Chapter 16 is already started and will most likely be out by next week. Be sure to let me know your thoughts on the various character developments. Thanks! KB