Chapter 13
Bad news: Santana woke up with half a pint of drool rolling down her chin. Good news: The prettiest girl in the world was draped across her. Bad news: The fucking couch they slept on was killing her back. Good news: The prettiest girl in the world was draped across her. Bad news: She couldn't feel her feet from lack of circulation because...Good news: The prettiest girl in the world was draped across her.
She thought about waking Brittany up. She had checked the time, but figured the blonde could sleep for another half hour or so. The day before had been a pretty long day for her. Plus, Brittany was so cute. Her blonde locks were all over the damn place because she had taken her hair down last night. Her hands were curled up right under her chin like she was attempting to ball up. Her mouth was hanging open slightly and her sweatshirt had twisted up just enough to show a sliver of her flat stomach. No, Brittany Pierce wasn't just cute, she was seriously fucking adorable. Serfuckadorbs.
Santana could have spent all morning watching her sleep. Her feet, however, had other ideas. She tried to put it off until they nearly declared mutiny, but finally she had to wiggle her toes to get the blood going. As soon as she wiggled, Brittany felt the movement and started to stir.
One blue eye popped open. "Hey."
"Hey."
"You stayed here with me?"
"Of course, I did." Santana couldn't help but light up. She loved sleepy, mumbly Brittany on the phone, but sleepy, mumbly Brittany in person was quite the sight.
"What?" she asked, smiling back.
"You."
"Me?" Brittany rubbed at her eyes to wake up a little more. "What did I do?"
"You're adorable."
"I probably look terrible," Brittany said as she sat up and tried to pat her wild hair down.
"You look great," Santana told her still grinning like a maniac.
"You're so lying," the blonde shook her head and then stretched her long arms over her head.
"Your hair is a mess, you have a little eye crusty, there's a pillow indention on your face," Santana pointed out, "and you're still so fucking beautiful."
Brittany blushed ten shades of red before she could respond with, "You are charming in the morning, aren't you?"
"I try." Santana gave her nails a couple of puffs and scratched them on her shirt.
"It's working. Much better than asking about turbulence."
"Ha ha. Are you hungry?" the brunette asked as she maneuvered out from under Brittany's legs. "I'll make you breakfast. I'll even let you bring me sugar."
"Oh, if you make me breakfast, I'll bring all the sugar you can handle."
"Really? 'Cause I can handle loads of sugar."
As Santana tried to pass to head into the kitchen, Brittany grabbed her hand and gave it a quick pull. The movement stopped her and she turned around to find herself face to face with the blonde. Brittany's arms were on their way up and her head was darting down. Santana braced herself for Amazing Kiss #2 and let her eyes close.
And then Brittany hugged her.
Her eyes popped back open and she wrapped her arms around the blonde. Hugs were good. Hugs were cool. Brittany hugs were pretty great. The longer she stood there in the embrace, the more she melted. Brittany's hands trailed through her hair and then wound tightly around her shoulders. The blonde's nose bumped against her ear and then she heard, "I'm so glad I'm finally here with you."
"Me, too, Britt."
"Last night was awesome," Brittany pulled back and looked her in the eye. "I kinda thought I might be dreaming, but then I woke up and you're here. And I'm here. Even though-"
"Even though we did unsexy things?"
Brittany scoffed, "Santana, nothing is unsexy when you're around."
Their very first morning together was incredibly informative. She learned that Brittany sung Ke$ha songs in the shower. Brittany's toothbrush was green. She had a tiny pair of pink ballet shoes tattooed on her right shoulder circled by a scripted 'dance party!'. She packed her suitcase like a five year old would, everything just thrown in. But, the best thing, without a doubt, was that Brittany was a toucher. Without the constraints of the Unsexy Rules, Brittany liked to touch. She touched Santana every time she passed by. She brushed her hands over Santana's lower back when she brought her a towel. She rested her chin on Santana's shoulder as she flipped pancakes. She played with the ends of Santana's hair while she looked over her presentation one last time. She trailed her fingers down Santana's arm and linked their pinkies for a second as she answered a call from her sister. She kissed Santana on the forehead on her way out the door.
It was a damn good thing that they were going to fit this date in tonight.
After Brittany had left, Santana plopped down on the couch. Her apartment had somehow never felt more empty now that the blonde had been here and was gone. It was way too quiet without the buzz of conversation. It was way to somber without the sound of Brittany's laugh. When she heard a banging on her door, her initial thought was that Brittany had come back and she felt little zig zags of energy all over her body. Only Brittany could create that kind of energy.
When she opened the door, though, she was sorely disappointed.
"Hey, Ms. Lopez," Beiste stood there in all her gigantic glory. "Gotta do the sweep."
"Fine," Santana sighed and stepped aside. "But you know this is ridiculous, right? Nobody's going to hide out in my apartment on the off-chance Rachel might drop in."
"I take Ms. Berry's safety very seriously," Beiste told her, then called out in the hallway, "Adams, Nelson, let's go."
"Oh, great," Santana complained. "Those two?"
When the other two members of Rachel's Sweep Team filed past, Santana huffed, "Don't think I don't know it was one of you guys who took my lucky underwear last time. Stay out of my drawers, you sick fucks."
Twenty minutes later, the coast was clear and Rachel appeared in sunglasses and an obnoxiously large hat. "Good morning, Santana. I trust that you cooperated with my private investigators."
"As much as I trust that you've drank one Cosmo too many and now your brain is pickled in vodka and cranberry," Santana said. "Oh, and that hat makes you look like a fucking idiot."
"The hat was her idea," Kurt said as he slipped in behind Rachel. "I tried to tell her she can't get away with it if she's not attending a royal wedding."
"She couldn't get away with that hat if she was Carmen Sandiego herself."
"Alright, fine," Rachel dramatically took it off, "you both hate my hat."
"I hate the shoes, too," Santana added. "And your face."
Rachel ignored that and went on, "I came to make sure that you and Brittany were attending my little, intimate gathering this evening." She looked around curiously, "Where is she?"
"Prepping for her pitch," Santana answered. "And yes. I tried my best to talk her out of it, but unfortunately she's intrigued by celebrity trainwrecks."
"Yet another reason why I should have my reality show," Rachel claimed.
"No."
"Why not?"
Kurt touched Rachel's arm and said as gently as he could, "No innocent person should be subjected to that kind of depravity. It's wrong and in your heart, you know it."
"Bravo's heart knows it's wrong, too. They've turned you down four times," Santana reminded her. "So who is going to be present at your sideshow of a dinner?"
"The usual suspects, of course, and Brittany's friends," Rachel held her hand out. "Kurt, folder."
Kurt handed over a manila envelope, which Rachel opened and leafed through. "I went ahead and took the liberty of running some background checks."
"You're a freak," Santana said in exasperation.
"Let's see, Brittany S. Pierce, a few interesting things there, by the way-"
"Nuh uh," Santana held her hand up, not wanting to hear it. "Keep it to yourself."
"Blaine Anderson, William Schuester, Arthur Abrams, Holly Holliday, and then a Sugar Motta that we couldn't get anything on."
"Hmm," the publicist said with little interest at all. "I'm sure it's okay, Rach."
"You don't know anything?"
"About Sugar Motta?" Santana searched her memory. "No."
"Well, Beiste will be shadowing her all evening."
"Motta won't even suspect a thing," Santana said sarcastically.
Rachel eyed her, judging her sincerity. "You sure you don't know anything?"
Santana pointed to the door, "Get out."
"Fine," Rachel said with her usual snotty flair. "Kurt."
"Right behind you," Kurt told her and then hung back a little. He waited until Rachel had stomped away and asked the publicist, "So how'd it go?"
The corners of Santana's mouth lifted automatically, "She's amazing."
"See, told you it would be fine."
"It was."
"Anything interesting happen?"
"Like what?"
"You know," Kurt leaned in, "interesting?"
"No, what are you talking about?" Santana asked, face blank.
"Did ya?" he then jutted his chin back and forth in the most awkward display Santana had ever witnessed.
"Are you asking if we made sweet, sweet lady love?"
"Yes," Kurt confirmed.
"Then why didn't you just say that?" Santana gave him a light punch on the shoulder. "No, I might have humped her a little while we were kissing, though."
"Might have?"
"I'm a little hazy on exact details," she said. "I opened the door, she kissed me, there were walls, and kissing, and...bumping...and grinding, and..."
"...okay," Kurt said as he watched Santana drift away.
"It's all coming back to me," Santana told him, still with a far away look in her eye.
"I'm going to leave you alone with that," the man said as he exited her apartment.
A few hours later, after nearly dying of boredom because she rarely had days with absolutely nothing to do, Brittany was flying through her door.
Santana stood to watch the blur of blonde and blue powersuit blaze across the room. Before she couldn't even greet her, Brittany and lifted her off the ground and kissed her. Santana's first thought was 'damn, Britt is strong, her second thought was, 'damn, this is nice.' It kept being nice, as Brittany's lips caressed hers, until she slid slowly down the other woman's body back to the floor.
"You keep doing that," Santana said after a moment to collect herself.
"Sneak attacks?" Brittany asked. "I don't think I can help it."
"I don't want you to."
"Then I won't," Brittany winked.
"So, it went well then?" Santana asked.
"Perfectly."
"That's great, Britt," the brunette said with excitement. Then a thought occurred to her, "If you get the account, does that mean you'll have to make more visits?"
"Most the work will be done in Seattle," Brittany informed her. "But yeah, we'll have to make a couple more trips out here."
"This is very good news." Santana laced her fingers through Brittany's and squeezed.
"Best ever," the blonde agreed.
"So, are you sure you want to go to Rachel's?"
"Everybody's really excited about it."
"Okay," Santana said uneasily. "Don't say I didn't warn you."
Most of the time, Rachel's dinner parties sucked. Santana dreaded going to them, she hated being at them, and then she ducked out early claiming some minor physical ailment. This particular dinner party, though, Santana had Brittany on her arm. Big Pimpin' was rolling around in her head like a theme song as she walked into Rachel's Grand Dining Room. The record stopped with a ear wrenching scratch when she saw Finn fucking Hudson loitering around...with a date.
"Hey," she said to Brittany as they approached her coworkers from Seattle. "Can you give me just a sec?"
"Sure."
Santana gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and headed for Hudson.
The big dumb oaf was standing in the middle of room, Jets tie already askew. "Santana," he acknowledged.
"What the fuck are you doing?" she hissed, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him away. "Don't you know we have guests? You think this is not going to get out?"
"Rachel said they were friends of friends."
"They are," the publicist told him, "all the more reason to keep the theatrics to a minimum."
"I understand what you're saying," Finn said. Santana really doubted that, the guy was dumb as a rock. "But, Suzy and I..." he motioned over to her a few steps away talking politely with the tool in the wheelchair, "we had a connection. For days before I ever asked her out, she was everywhere I looked. I took it as a sign."
"Oh, a sign. Oh, well, if that's the case, then okay," Santana smiled. "But hey, why don't you sign some fucking divorce papers and make my life a whole lot easier."
"I care about my marriage, Santana," the dope replied seriously.
Before she could tell him that he was a stupid fucker, Rachel appeared. And lo and behold she was being trailed by some strange man.
"It's okay, it's okay," Rachel told her and then growled at Finn. "I brought a date, too. Meet Brody."
Brody held out his business card, which Santana took and read aloud, "Brody Weston: A Face for Pipes?"
"He's a celebrity plumber," Rachel said with a blinding smile. "He redid the third floor bath. I found him in the shower."
"Dandy," Santana said. "This is going to be fun."
"Oh." Something caught Rachel's eye. "Is that Brittany?"
Santana followed her eyes, "Yes."
Immediately, Rachel was off.
"Rachel!" Santana called.
At the same time, Kurt had entered the building and had seen the blonde as well. "Brittany!" he shouted above the din of the small crowd.
The two of them converged on the helpless girl at the same time, both hugging her with the kind of emotion that they did not usually possess.
"Let the woman go," Santana tried to pry them away.
"You're everything I thought you would be and so much more," Kurt squealed.
Rachel talked over him with, "I can't believe we're finally meeting!"
"Santana's been so excited about your visit," Kurt hugged a bit tighter.
Which was drowned out by Rachel's, "It's about time, Santana's been so hard to deal with. She's a real bitch when she's stressed."
Kurt leaned back and looked her over, "That's such a great dress on you."
"Do you like my dress?" Rachel asked at the same time.
Brittany seemed okay with it, though. In fact, she was smiling widely and hugging both of them back, answering the best she could. And as irritating as they were, Santana felt a little surge of happiness that Brittany was bonding with the other two most important people in her world. But, only a surge. When it was done, it was done.
"Okay, it's time to back the fuck off," she finally said.
Kurt did unhand Brittany, but Rachel, always pushing the limits too close to psychotic, held on until she was summoned by a young woman tapping her on the shoulder. The woman seemed pretty comfortable here, yet Santana had no idea who she was.
"Rachel?" She pointed to the woman, "Who's this?"
"Oh," Rachel clapped her hands together. "This is New Assistant Girl, Kelly."
"It's Kitty, actually," New Assistant Girl said.
"Not an improvement," Santana tossed to her. She looked back to Rachel, "I'm gone for one day and you've replaced Marley?"
"I could never find Marley, Santana," Rachel explained. "She could be standing right in front of me, and I didn't even see her. She's like the invisible girl."
"I just came to tell you that Ms. Jones is here," Kitty relayed to Rachel, "as you requested."
"Whatever you're going to do, don't!" Santana warned her.
"We're just having a lovely dinner," Rachel said innocently.
Soon enough, all the introductions had been made and they were all gathered around the table according to Rachel's pre-set placecards. Well, almost.
It didn't take long for Rachel to notice something was amiss, "No, no, no, Kurt. Brittany was supposed to be seated by me."
"Santana made me switch," Kurt told her.
"Santana has no authority when it comes to dinner placement."
Of course, the woman in question heard the exchange and leaned over Kurt, "There's no way in hell I'm letting you yap at my date all night."
Brittany heard, too. "Are we considering this the date?" she asked.
"Absolutely," Santana answered quickly.
"Then we should get it started," Brittany said. "And finished."
The publicist laughed, "I wish it could be that easy."
She took a look around at all the guests. This had the potential to be a very interesting night.