Hey guys, update for you! Once again thanks for the interest and keep those reviews coming!
Hope everyone had a safe and happy christmas!
Ch 6: Feud
"If I put tabasco sauce, vodka, gin and coke into the cocktail what should we call it?" Brittany was standing at Santana's dresser which was covered in potential ingredients as they tried to come up with a cocktail to take to Kurt's party.
Santana had only agreed to go on the condition that they sampled enough cocktails for her to get drunk before they showed up.
"Like ripping off a band-aid quickly?" Brittany had asked.
"Uh…" Santana shrugged, deciding to just go with it. "Sure."
There was practically nothing that could spoil Santana's mood at the present moment. She was lounging on her bed watching Brittany bend over the counter to construct her latest cocktail. Her short navy sequinned dress the slid up and down her thighs like water as she moved.
Every now and then a smile would tug the corners of Santana's mouth at the memory of the piece of paper that had been pinned to the Arts and Culture notice board that afternoon. It was the cast list for West Side Story bearing her name beside that of 'Anita'.
She'd never let on how thrilled she was, not even to Britt who was with her when she saw it posted. She'd just rolled her eyes and grinned as Britt jumped up and down, tugging the back of Santana's backpack.
But throughout that afternoon Santana felt a balloon of contentment swelling slowly inside her until even the cocktail party didn't sound like such a bad thing.
Another plus for Santana was that the cocktail party would be missing Rachel. She'd had been officially uninvited on Facebook because she'd knotted Kurt's g-string by deciding to run against him and Britt for Senior Class President.
Unlike Kurt, Britt had hardly been fazed by Rachel's decision. When Tina had told her during lunch she'd just shrugged and said breezily: "Oh, that's okay. No one will vote for her anyway because she's Jewish."
Santana had almost choked on her forkful of salad.
"Uhm, that is so, so rude Brittany," Tina had said in disbelief. "There isn't anything wrong with being Jewish!"
Brittany had paused, frowning down her nose in confusion.
"I thought Jewish was just a fancy word for 'annoying'."
"San?"
"Mmm?" Brittany was holding a glass out to her. It was filled with an ominous brown liquid and had whole strawberry and a pink toothpick umbrella floating near the rim. Santana took it and held it up to the light sceptically.
"What should we call it?" Brittany repeated. Santana held the glass up to her nose and sniffed. Her lip curled in disgust.
"Uh, how about Fires Of Mount Doom?"
Brittany's eyes widened. "That's perfect! Are you going to taste it?"
Santana hesitated. They'd already sampled a fair few of Brittany's creations- vodka, milk and lemon rind had been particularly interesting. While the gin, grape juice and pear cider had been surprisingly tasty. Santana suspected it was the two glasses she'd had of that that left her where she was now- light-headed and flopped on the bed.
"If I try it I may not make it to Kurt's," she said, handing the glass back to Brittany who shrugged and took a sip from it instead. Santana watched as her cheeks pinked and her features twisted into one another at the taste.
"Ugh. Yuck!" She exclaimed, setting down the glass and shaking her head. Santana laughed and held out her arms, pouting.
"Poor Britt Britt, come here, I'll distract you from the aftertaste."
Brittany sank down on the bed beside her and Santana rolled on top of her, trailing her fingers down the material of Britt's dress which clung to her curves.
She kissed Brittany long and slow, until her lips were tingling. She reached down and raked her fingertips up one of Brittany's thighs, and felt Brittany's hips arch against her own. Santana shivered with pleasure and kissed Brittany deeper, wanting to be the only taste on her tongue, the only sensation across her skin.
/
They were an hour and a half late to Kurt's house.
As they approached the front door Santana felt like her feet were far too heavy for her legs. She had no idea how she was managing to walk in heels except for Brittany's presence which was a warm anchor at her side.
Kurt met them at the door, grinning his gummy dewy-eyed smile and gestured for them to twirl in their dresses.
"So, so chic," he said, fingering the hem of Santana's little black dress. "Come in, come in!"
They were taken downstairs to where Kurt's room filled the whole basement. The others were sitting around a coffee table full of nibbles- there were assortments of breads with different coloured oils to dip them in and chocolate dipped strawberries.
"Hey guys!" Tina said, waving. She held up her glass. Santana could see that her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes slightly unfocused. "Try Kurt's cocktail! Its…cherry liqueur and cream with…with …"
"...a dark chocolate garnish," Kurt finished for her, ushering Santana and Brittany to the empty three-seater nearby. He plied them with their own cherry liqueur cocktails and gestured behind him.
"If you want another please help yourself!"
Santana could see that, like her, Kurt had turned his dresser into a makeshift bar- but a far more upmarket one that Santana's had been. While she'd gathered an assortment of all the drinkable liquids in her house, Kurt had lined up glasses and pitchers in neat uniform rows. There was a silver ice bucket with tiny tongs hooked on its side and a platter of chopped up fruits and olives for people to put in their drinks. Blaine and Finn were there, mixing drinks together.
"Hey Finn, I was looking forward to your grilled cheese. What a let-down," she said sarcastically, gesturing to the food on the table.
Finn took the drink Blaine handed him and walked back to the couches. He flopped down on the other side of Brittany.
"Yeah, Kurt said he and I have something called 'creative differences'."
Brittany waved her hand and said knowingly, "Don't worry, my cat and I have them all the time. He wants to go bowling but I tell him, no you can't, you don't have thumbs. And I want to join the swim team but he always chews holes in my togs so I can't.
"Rrrright." Finn said, nodding. Puck snorted and walked to the table, picking up a fistful of bread and popping it into his mouth. He bounced onto the couch beside Quinn who wrinkled her nose and uncrossed her legs, shifting away from him.
Artie rolled up to the gap beside Santana's end of the couch and smiled at her.
"Hey Anita," he said.
She fought the grin, but it won. "Hey," she said, grudgingly letting it take over her face. She took a pull on the straw of her drink and raised her eyebrows in surprise. It was delicious.
Tina, Mike, Quinn, Artie, Blaine and Kurt had struck up a conversation about Mercedes. It seemed like the hundredth time they had gone over what had happened. Santana trained her hearing on Finn and Brittany's conversation. He was telling her a story about his cousins from Kansas and she had her head back, shaking with laughter.
Santana sat coiling tighter and tighter from annoyance while Brittany reached out and flattened the creases on his shirt collar.
"What do you think Santana?"
She started and turned her eyes up to the others who were looking at her expectantly. "Huh?"
"About Mercedes joining Shelby's new glee club." Quinn said.
"With that Sugar Motta chick," Puck wrinkled his nose.
Santana took another long pull on the straw of her drink, welcoming the warm haze it doused over her senses and shrugged.
"Means I'm going to get the black girl solos due to Mr Shue's latent racist tendencies so I'm not complaining."
"Rachel was saying it'll mean…"
"Uh, uh, uh." Kurt wagged a finger at Tina.
"Right. Sorry. No Rachel talk tonight." Tina said, holding up her hands apologetically.
Beside them, Brittany gave another peel of laughter. Santana snapped her head around, scowling.
"What's so…"
But she was interrupted by Blaine's bright grin as he stuck his head over the back of the couch.
"Hey Santana, wanna have a couple of goes at karaoke?"
Santana raised her eyebrows incredulously. Kurt's Hand-Bag had to be kidding himself if he thought that she'd ever want to subject herself to singing an Elton John medley with him.
The talk of karaoke had caught Britt's attention and she turned away from Finn, clapping her hands and wiggling in her seat.
"Oh do it San! It'll be so fetch!"
"Fetch?" Mike questioned.
"Yahuh. It's English. The Queen says it all the time." Tina, Quinn, Mike and Puck all exchanged frowns.
"Oh yes, yes, yes, yes!" Kurt said, clapping his hands. "Blaine-slash-Santana karaoke sounds like the perfect thing."
"Do you have the Beatles version?" Blaine asked as they rose from their seats.
"Duh," Kurt rolled his eyes. "That's like karaoke canon."
"Dooo it!" Britt said, nudging Santana off the couch. Pretending to scoff, Santana stood up.
"Well, I suppose it could be worse. You could be making me sing the soundtrack to Mama Mia or something appalling like that." Kurt's face lit up.
"Well I do have-"
"No. Hell. No. Don't even-"
"I..."
"No."
"Bu-"
"No." She held up a hand in his face until he rolled his eyes in mock annoyance and went to help Blaine set up the TV.
"Here we go," Finn said, smiling at Brittany as he placed another cocktail on the table in front of her. Santana looked down at the, frowning.
"You haven't even finished your first." She said.
Brittany shrugged. "He was going up there so…"
"Well he doesn't need to wait on you hand and foot."
Right on cue, Finn turned to them, holding out a platter of bread to Brittany. As Britt mulled over her choice, Santana's frown swooped lower and lower over her eyes.
"You're not her boyfriend Free Willy. Stop flopping around like you are," she snapped. Finn and Brittany looked at her. Across the table, Mike, Puck, Quinn and Tina were staring too.
"Chill out Santana," Finn shook his head. "This is my house too and I'm just trying to be-"
"Effing annoying and desperate? Well in that case, you are doing a really stellar job at it." Santana felt her anger clamp down in her chest. She knew that it was unjustified, but somehow that just made her angrier and before she could stop herself she was leaning aggressively into Finn's face.
"I know Berry let you out of your kennel for the night and you're excited. And I know it's the first time you've probably talked to a girl while not on your leash but for god sakes keep your hands to yourself. It's making me nauseous."
Finn looked at her, disgusted. "You know, just because you're jealous Santana doesn't mean you can take it out on everyone else."
"Jealous?" Santana screeched, throwing her head back in mock hilarity. "Finn, you flirt about as competently as a starving Walrus. Trust me, I'm not jealous. I pity Britt for having to suffer through it."
"He's not flirting Santana." Brittany's voice was low, attempting to be soothing. But Finn drowned her out.
"No, you're not jealous of that. You're jealous because if I wanted to, I could flirt with Brittany, whereas you…"
"Okay! Okay!" Kurt came back to the couch, grinning manically, forcing their attention onto him. "Karaoke is ready! If you'd all like to seat yourselves so you can see, Blaine and Santana will take the stage."
He handed her a sleek black microphone. She took it, her eyes still on Finn. Her heart was pounding and she wanted to smack the stupid look off his face.
As if he anticipated it, Kurt threaded his hand through her elbow and gently led her over to the space he and Blaine had cleared as a makeshift stage.
"I'm not singing yellow submarine," Santana warned Blaine as she joined him.
"Not what I was thinking at all. Heard of Something?"
"Oooh, good choice," Artie called from behind them. Kurt turned to the TV and scrolled through until he found the song.
"Ready?" He clicked play and the music swelled, the opening lines blinking across the screen.
"Ladies first," Blaine grinned at her. Santana flipped the switch on her microphone and took a breath. Usually Rachel Berry did this sort of thing and Santana sat at the back of the room, rolling her eyes and wishing she had pins to stab herself.
The music sweltered, the opening guitar riff lazy and twangy and familiar like all Beatles songs were. Santana dragged her voice huskily across the beat.
Something in the way she moves,
attracts me like no other lover.
Something in the way she woos me.
I don't wanna leave her now.
You know I believe and how
She only needed the first verse to recall the rest. It flowed out of her effortlessly, using the faint sound of John Lennon's voice- ghosting her own- to keep time. As she sang her eyes drifted across the room, hardly seeing anyone. This was how she got when she sang. She only saw what the music opened her eyes to.
But Brittany's face was there, and Brittany's eyes were looking straight at Santana. Blaine came in on the chorus, harmonising easily with her.
You're asking me, will my love grow?
I don't know. I don't know.
You stick around now it may show.
I don't know. I don't know.
Santana tried to close her eyes. She tried to take more notice of Blaine beside her. But back across the room they'd flicker- like moths- sweeping close and then away again before it meant too many things.
And then, gradually, because she was caught up in alcoholic confidence and jealousy was still threading through her nerves, her gaze became bolder until she was drinking in Brittany's face, mapping all her features like new countries.
And suddenly the words to the song were all Brittany's. They'd been written for her, Santana was sure.
Something in the way she knows
and all I have to do is think of her.
Something in the things she shows me.
I don't wanna leave her now. You know I believe in how.
The music drifted to a close, with Blaine and Santana harmonising the last note, stretching it out further than the original did. And when the music was gone Santana dropped her eyes from Brittany's as though the beat had been the only thing that bound them.
/
"I can't get my dress…Oh, crap." There was a muffled thud in the darkness at the end of Santana's bed.
"You right?" Santana whispered to Brittany. She lay on her bed, dress already discarded. Her limbs were heavy and floppy and she could hear every one of her breaths like they were magnified in her eardrums. Her heart beat was sore in her chest. She was drunk. So drunk that her nerves didn't know what they were supposed to feel and what they weren't. They'd turned inwards so that she could feel so acutely the workings of her own body but had no idea what the bed underneath her felt like.
The mattress rocked beneath her as Brittany crawled up to her side of the bed. Santana attempted to look at her and her head flopped sideways awkwardly. In the dark beside her, Brittany giggled.
"You're drunk." Santana muttered.
"Mmm." The mattress shifted again and suddenly, the dim shadow of Brittany's face was above her and her alcohol breath scattered all over Santana's.
"I enjoyed tonight." Her hands were warm on Santana's shoulders, her stomach, her arms. She felt her insides pull and she reached for Brittany's face, threading her fingers through her hair, pulling her lips down to Santana's lips.
It was like it used to be. When they'd been younger. Fumbling for one another in the dark- self-conscious and urgent. The first time Santana had touched Brittany between her legs they'd been in Santana's bed, drunk like they were now- home from their first big party at 14.
Santana hadn't even known if Brittany wanted her to- the words had never passed between them. They'd kissed before that night. In front of boys. But they'd never kissed like this- Urgent and hot. Their bodies had clashed together as they tried to get close enough. They were clumsy and they were drunk but when Santana began exploring the wet heat beneath Brittany's underwear with her fingers it was like everything came into sharper focus. Beside her, Brittany had breathed like she was running a race and Santana slipped her fingers up inside her, pulling them in and out until Brittany moaned into a pillow and her arms became vice-like around Santana's shoulders. Further down, her insides became a vice on Santana's surging fingers.
"I'm going to…" The present Brittany's jagged whisper sounded somewhere near Santana's ear. She was burning everywhere, not able to hold Brittany close enough, or be deep enough inside her.
"Oh, god."
Just like that first time, Brittany's limbs locked against Santana and her insides tugged at Santana's fingers. Her ragged breath hitched and then a cry ripped through the air between their faces.
When Santana felt Brittany come it took her breath away, just like the first time.
They lay panting, naked and pressed hard up against one another, just like the first time.
And then, Brittany leaned back, and Santana met the liquid shine in the dimness that she knew were Brittany's eyes.
"I love you." Brittany's voice slipped softly between them in the dark, like it had the first time.
Back then, Santana knew that Britt had said it just to fill the void left by what had happened. It was Brittany's way of getting them back to the before- when they were just friends, collapsed drunk on a bed. It was her way of saying they were still the same. That it didn't matter.
Santana had turned away that first time and mumbled something about sleep.
Now, her body curved closer to Brittany of its own accord, and even though she buried her head into the warmth of Brittany's neck, her reply wasn't muffled.
"Love you too, Britt."