Chapter Eleven
Santana had been waiting for Kurt at their usual meeting place for the last half hour. She was pretty content watching the traffic of the city pass on this particular day. She had nowhere to rush off to. Something about watching the hustle and bustle calmed her, though. No other city did hustle and bustle quite like New York City, she couldn't imagine being anywhere else.
Kurt spotted her easily and weaved his way through the crowd, "I thought you were taking the day off?"
"I am," she replied. She handed over a previously purchased cup of brew, "On me, today."
"Thanks," he said before giving her a once-over. "What the hell are you wearing?"
"What?"
"You look terrible. Are those track pants?"
"Limited edition."
"Your shirt's on backwards," he did a little swirly motion with his hand.
Santana looked down, "Oh, yeah, it is." She then proceeded to turn it around by pulling her arms back through the sleeves and twisting it the other way.
"Good lord, woman," he squealed. "Have you no shame?"
"Oh, settle down, Mary," she said as she put her arms back through the sweater. "I didn't take it off and whip it around." In the process a couple of well-dressed men walked by gawking, "But you'd like that, wouldn't ya?" she yelled at them until they scurried away.
"What's wrong with you?"
"Nothing," she said. "I just needed to get out."
"It's 9 in the morning. You worked all day yesterday. You spend less than eight hours a night at your actual home," Kurt informed her needlessly. "I don't think that's the reason."
"I needed coffee," Santana said. She pointed in their usual direction, "I'll walk with you."
"So," Kurt followed and tried to lead her into conversation.
"So what?"
"Are you nervous?"
"No."
"You can tell me."
"I'm not," she said as she fiddled with the lid to her coffee.
"You are!" Kurt laughed.
"I am," she agreed.
"You should be excited."
"I am excited," Santana claimed. She then added, "I'm nervously excited."
"You've been counting down the days for this."
"Yeah, I know." Santana turned the cup around in her hand. "It just hit me today."
"What?"
"Oh, I don't know, Kurt," Santana exaggeratedly shrugged. "A woman I barely know will be inhabiting my apartment for three days. Maybe she'll be crazy. Maybe she's planned this all along. Maybe she'll be some kind of kidney stealer and she'll leave me in ice bath with a note that says, 'Hey thanks for the kidney, San, smiley face, heart. Sorry I cost you millions of dollars in overages, but I really needed this kidney. XOXO.'"
"Have you told her how much you drank in college?" Kurt asked. "I doubt she'll want to risk it."
"Maybe I should drop that info," Santana thought out loud.
Kurt rolled his eyes, "Maybe you're scared Perfect Girl is not going to be so perfect."
"The odds are stacked against her."
"Or," Kurt ducked down to catch her eyes. "And I could be going out on a limb here, maybe, just maybe, you're scared that she is going to be perfect. Then what happens?"
Santana nodded slightly, "That's scarier than the kidney thing."
"You'll be fine," Kurt told her with conviction. "I know you and I know you wouldn't be doing this if you weren't sure about it."
"I'm glad you're so confident."
"You're just freaking out. When you see her, it'll all be worth it."
"Yeah," Santana replied as she took a long drink of her coffee.
"So, is she in the air? Winging her way to our wonderful metropolis?"
Santana checked her watch, "Not yet. She texted before she had to get in line for security. They should be leaving in about an hour."
"How long's the flight?"
"Six and a half," she sighed. "Then she has some meetings with her group to finalize everything for tomorrow's meeting with Whoopsies."
"Whoopsies?" Kurt asked.
"It's like a ShamWow meets a wet wipe."
"Sounds absorbent."
"Ten times the cleaning power," Santana recited. She knew that pitch better than most of Brittany's team by now. "At just a fraction of the cost."
When the two of them reached Rachel's building, Kurt seemed surprised that Santana was still following him. "What happened to preparing for Brittany's arrival?"
"That sounded like a great idea at first," the woman said. "Now, I'm thinking I'm going to need something to occupy my time. I bought new sheets, then I wondered if that was too presumptuous. So I ended up just washing my old ones twice and putting them back on my bed. After that, I spent 34 minutes on candle placement. Where do you put a candle if you want to say: I'm into you even though we've technically just met?"
Kurt scratched his temple, "A respectable distance away from any horizontal surface?"
As the two of them ascended the master staircase, Santana noticed that Rachel had already perched herself at the top of the stairs. "I thought you were taking the day off?"
"I am. I'm not here, you don't see me."
"You said you needed at least twelve hours to rid yourself of the stench of my theatricality."
"Our precious Santana is nervous about meeting Brittany later this evening," Kurt intervened as they all entered Rachel's giant closet.
"Why?" Rachel questioned. "She's great. So cute and bubbly. Much too good for you, but seems to like you anyway."
"You just described 99% of your fan base." Santana took her normal seat on the sofa, "I'm not counting the people who keep photoshopping your head onto Ray Romano's body or that guy who wanted you to be the main ingredient in Rachel Berry Vegetable Medley soup."
"I thought that was shepherd's pie?" Kurt commented.
"No, shepherd's pie guy was totally cute and bubbly, though. Remember the magazine cut-out letters were always punctuated with periods made of Rachel's eyes."
"Ahh," the memory came back to him. "I like some originality in my psychos."
"And that's why I pay Beiste so much money," Rachel relayed. "So why are you nervous?"
"Because it's a totally normal human emotion for this situation, Rachel," Santana told her. "Oh, I see the problem, you have such little experience with those."
"You're even crankier than usual, I don't like it."
"I don't like you."
"I don't like those track pants," Kurt said with even more disgust now that he was seeing them in artificial light.
"Lay off my pants, Lady," Santana shot back. "I'm dressing for comfort."
"This is what happens when you have several months of pent up sexual frustration," Rachel told her smartly.
"You should know," the publicist remarked. "I signed for a delivery a couple days ago and you have gotz to tell the makers of the Deluxe Jackal to use more discreet packaging. The delivery kid could barely look at me."
"That wasn't mine," Rachel said expressionless.
"It had your name on it."
"Did not, it said Harmony Hudson," Rachel smiled in triumph. A second and half later, she realized her mistake, "Dammit!"
"So, Santana," Kurt drew her attention. "How long will Brittany be here again?"
"Something about that question makes me reluctant to tell you."
"I just know a certain monthly date that you've dutifully kept for years is going to coincide," Kurt mentioned while combing one of Rachel's wigs.
"Oh, I hate it when that happens," Rachel complained. "I thought the three of us had all synced up."
"Not that," Santana informed her. She turned back to Kurt, "I cancelled with Quinn."
Kurt's head nearly twisted around on his neck, dropping the wig and the lifelike bust of Rachel it rested on, "You did what?"
"I cancelled," Santana shrugged. "It's the only free day I'm going to have with Britt. What the fuck was I going to do? Have a sit down lunch at Vic's and introduce them? Hey, ex-girlfriend who broke my heart and ran off with a man, meet my potential new love interest that lives next door to Mars."
"Out with the old and in with the new, huh?"
"I want this to go well," Santana explained. "I'm not sure meeting Quinn would accomplish that goal."
"And what did Quinn have to say about it?" Rachel asked.
"She cried a thousand tears and begged me not to do it," Santana said seriously.
"Really?" Rachel squawked.
"No, but it makes me feel moderately better than what she really said, which was, 'Now I can pick up an extra Zumba session.'"
"So that's it, then?"
"Kurt, I know she was a part of our little rag tag group of collegiate misfits, but let's face it. That ship has sailed. And sank. And should only be accessed by lesbian divers enrolled in a course titled How to Have a Toxic Relationship."
"Well, congratulations," Kurt clapped. "I never thought I'd see the day."
Santana stood and took an overly dramatic bow. "Look at me, I'm growing."
Rachel snorted obnoxiously, "That and you're totally in love with Brittany."
"Shut your mouth, Berry."
"You are."
"Stop it."
"You love her, you want to marry her, and have a million transcontinental babies with her."
All things that would have been easier to argue if Santana didn't suspect that they were true. Instead she just stomped on the Rachel Berry bust that was still on the floor. "Whoops, sorry 'bout that," she said as she kicked the pieces of the sculptured likeness of Rachel's head at the woman herself.
Santana was still on edge several hours later, even after playing her all-time favorite game, Guess Who: Celebrity Mugshot Edition. So much so that when her text notification went off, she nearly came out of her skin.
Brittany
I'm here!
"She's here," Santana told Kurt and Rachel. "I think it's safe to say shit just got real."
"Let's go get her!" Rachel jumped up and down.
"No," Santana told her. "She's got work stuff to do."
"Then we can get her?"
"No, there's no 'we' involved," Santana waved in between them. "There's only me."
Rachel pouted, "But I want to see Brittany, too."
"And you can...later," Santana said, "and from a distance."
"Fine," she whined. "I've already sent the whole group baskets full of fruit, vegan snacks, and printed invitations for dinner. I'll see her tomorrow, anyway."
Santana had to ball her fists to keep from swinging. "I could not be more thrilled that in your continuous fog of selfishness and narcissism, that you remembered that you invited a bunch of strangers to dinner."
"Fans are not strangers, Santana. They're friends with less money and no talent."
"I can't wait until you do something that excuses me for checking you into a mental health facility," the publicist said wistfully.
"Bitch."
"Lunatic."
"Slut."
"B Movie actress." Santana knew how to push all the right buttons, and she did it flawlessly.
"Yikes." Kurt picked up a pair of boots and took cover behind the mannequins just in case.
Honestly though, Rachel's glare really scared her as much as a hungry puppy in a meadow. She could trade barbs all day long. She may have, too, but her phone broke the tension.
"I'm here," Brittany said with a giggle.
"I know, I got your text." Santana giggled at Brittany's giggle.
"You still want me to stay with you?"
"Of course," Santana said brightly even though her stomach was in knots.
"No second thoughts?"
"Do you have two functioning kidneys?" Santana asked just for peace of mind.
"Uh, yeah," Brittany answered. "Why?"
"Nevermind."
"Okaaay," the blonde said suspiciously. "Hey, we're heading toward the hotel, so I'll call you later."
"I can't wait to see you." A truer statement, Santana had never uttered.
It was true. Yes. But, it certainly didn't mean she wasn't going out of her mind. She spent the next few hours doing the most relaxing thing she could think of, cutting the labels out of all Rachel's clothes.
When Kurt noticed the trail leading from turquoise button downs to yellow tank tops, he went into hysterics and ordered her home.
"I'm going," she conceded easily. She handed over his scissors. "I feel better now."
"Oh, great," he said while collecting the labels. "I'll just be here sewing all night, but I'm glad you feel better."
"Thanks, Kurt," she said. "I mean that, you know. Most of the time, I don't."
"Good luck," he offered. "Not that you'll need it."
Rachel, not willing to be outdone, cleared her throat loudly. "Love. Love is what's waiting for you out there. It's right there. All you have to do is grab it and hold on tight. Don't let it get away from you. For love is not only precious to our beloved, but is also the greatest gift we can give ourselves."
"Rachel, that is from your Lifetime movie Backstage Breakdown: The Cassandra July Story circa 2007," Santana called her out. "I ran those lines with you."
"It was poetic then and it fits your situation now. If you want me to come up with something original, you'll have to give me a day or two."
"I appreciate your attempt at sincerity," Santana said. "As fake as it was."
"Can I hug you?" Rachel asked taking a step toward her.
"Only if you can do so without touching me."
After an awkward air hug, Santana walked the dozen or so blocks back to her place. She couldn't help taking in the sights, something was making her nostalgic. So many times she had taken the city for granted. She should really appreciate it more, this place was magical. Even more so today, because Brittany was here, too.
Brittany.
She'd dreamed about this happening so many times. She'd run through every imaginable possibility for how she could get Brittany here. In the end, she didn't even have to scheme or drop hints or send an anonymous plane ticket, it all worked out perfectly. She just hoped the actual visit would go as smoothly.
Her phone rang literally seconds after she stepped into her apartment.
"Santana, I told you I could make it on my own," Brittany said. "I would have gotten a cab."
"Figgins will get you here faster," Santana replied. "The faster, the better."
"Thank you," Brittany laughed. "I'm on my way."
"Hey," Santana caught her before she hung up. "Rachel's not with you, is she?"
"Um, no, is she supposed to be?"
"No, no. I'm just checking."
The wait between the phone call and Brittany's arrival was excruciating. She paced. She replaced her old sheets with the new ones again. She moved the candle four times until she realized there's no way to keep a candle off a horizontal surface and then she cursed Kurt. After a few more minutes, she went to watch out her window for Figgins.
She gasped when she saw the car turn onto the street.
Stay cool. Stay cool, she told herself. Do not run out onto the street and tackle that woman.
Her phone vibrated in her hand.
Brittany
Outside. Buzz me in.
When the light knock came a few minutes later, Santana took several deep calming breaths. Those breaths could have doubled at Lamaze breathing. She hurried over to the door, gave herself a quick check, and dried her clammy hands on her track pants. Oh fuck, she was still wearing track pants. Too late now.
She opened the door and was met by the most beautiful sight she could imagine. Brittany had on a pair of jeans and her University of Washington hoodie. Her blonde hair was tied up tightly in a messy bun. She clutched a suitcase in her hand and was shoving her phone in her back pocket. She was smiling that megawatt smile that Santana had only seen in pictures.
"Holy shit, you're fucking gorgeous."
"Hi," the blonde said shyly.
"Hi." Santana could have sworn she felt it as Brittany's eyes swept over her from head to toe, then back up.
"I..." Brittany dropped the suitcase and took the two steps separating them.
Santana felt hands on her hips and a tug before she really registered what was happening. It was like slow motion. The smile was replaced by her tongue darting across to wet her lips. Her head was tilted ever so slightly. Santana enjoyed the view for as long as she could before her eyes closed and she reached blindly to grab fistfuls of Brittany's sweatshirt and pull her even closer. When Brittany's lips reached hers, all coherency was out the window.