When her phone rang, Santana would have ignored it, if it had been anyone else.
"Brittany," she wasn't able to keep the smile out of her voice as she answered the call. Alone in her basement and elbow deep in her work, Santana couldn't think of a better interruption. "What's up?"
"Hey," Brittany sounded like she might be smiling too, "nothing much, I was just wondering if you were going to dinner with Rachel and Quinn tonight."
"Um," Santana's eyes shifted towards the ceiling of the basement, where she knew Quinn was upstairs somewhere, "not that I know of, Quinn never told me anything about it, why?"
"Oh," Brittany sighed, "she probably hasn't gotten around to asking you, Rachel just texted me about getting us all together tonight."
Santana heard the hesitation in her voice, "Do you not want to go?"
Brittany's pause spoke for her, and then she admitted, "I'm still mad at her. It's just really hard for me to find out that not only did she know that the feature might be cut, but she was planning some sort of revenge for it and didn't even think to mention it to me."
"I'm not very proud of Quinn at the moment either," Santana mumbled into the receiver, "but you and I both know that they thought they were being martyrs by keeping it from us."
"And... I'm worried that Quinn still hates me."
"She told me you two got into it in her office," Santana chuckled, "I would have loved to see that."
"No," Brittany snorted, "it was a train wreck and I'm so embarrassed."
"Britts," Santana spoke softly, "check it out. You shouldn't be embarrassed for having a backbone and saying what's on your mind. Honestly, you earned some brownie point's in Q's book by whatever you said, she wouldn't tell me anything, but I could tell it left an impression."
"Dinner would still be really awkward."
Santana laughed softly, finding the pout in Brittany's tone adorable, "We should still probably go. It's our turn to be martyrs and sit through dinner. I don't really want to make this easy on them, but they're our friends."
"Yeah, you're right," Brittany gave an exaggerated sigh that made Santana laugh again. "Then I guess I'll see you there."
"Now I'm actually looking forward to it," Santana smirked. She might even be tempted to have dinner with Jesse St. James if Brittany was going to be there. Might.
"Hey, you haven't even been invited yet," Brittany teased, and Santana could hear her shuffling around her apartment. She wondered what the blonde was getting up to in her loft. An image of her sitting at her desk, laptop and notebook in front of her, Lord Tubbington in her lap, ran through Santana's head and she wanted to be there with them.
"That's true," Santana glanced at the clock and wondered when Quinn planned on telling her about dinner plans. "Q's pushing her luck here."
"Give her some time, she's probably still worried that you're mad at her."
"Probably," Santana admitted quietly, she hadn't been in the best of moods after their lunch when Quinn came clean.
"But hey, I have to text Rachel back to let her know I'll be there," Brittany's voice mixed with the sound of a shower being turned on, "so I'll see you when I get there."
Santana blinked a few times, refocusing from the mental images of Brittany and the shower, "Yeah, alright, I um... I'll see you there."
"I love you, Santana."
Her stomach tumbled, because the words were still just as powerful as they had been the first time she heard them. Santana hoped it was the same for Brittany when she replied, "I love you too."
"Have you finished thinking about it?"
"I have a lot of things to think about, Quinn," Santana didn't even look up from her computer. She knew what Quinn was about to ask, but like she said, she wasn't going to make it very easy. "You're going to have to jog my memory."
Quinn moved down the final three steps and walked over to the woman, "You said you would think about going out with Rachel and Brittany."
"Yeah, I did," Santana continued typing, "and when I made a suggestion you shot me down, so forgive me for not putting a whole lot of effort into planning the thing."
"Santana, there's no way in hell that we're going to play a game of doubles at the racquetball court."
"Because you know Britts and I would kick your asses, and you don't want to embarrass yourself in front of your new girlfriend."
"Santana."
Santana rolled her eyes a little, "If you want to set up a dinner, I'll be there. I was fine the last time you roped me into dinner with them, I'll be fine this time."
"Good," Quinn glanced at her watch, "because you have two hours to get ready."
Santana was already saving her progress and standing up, "That's not short notice at all."
"Rachel wanted to do it tonight," Quinn seemed genuinely apologetic.
Santana shrugged like it was no big deal and they walked upstairs together. She knew it was actually a good idea to get this over with and made sure there were no hard feelings between any of them. They needed each other too much. Not to mention that none of the women wanted to be at odds with their friend's girlfriend. That was more important that the corporate espionage alliance crap.
It only took her one hour to get ready, her extra time was spent on her laptop in the living room, waiting for Quinn to come downstairs so that they could leave. While she thought she should have been, she wasn't working. Ever since she had accepted Brittany's friend request on Facebook, Santana had been taking regular breaks from her real life to browse through the woman's photo albums. She had a lot, and each one was more informative than the last.
Santana learned that Brittany's younger sister, who had been mentioned in passing, was still in college at Pennsylvania State. Santana wondered what she was majoring in and if it was similar to Brittany and her mother's interests in the creative arts. The Pierce sisters looked just like their mother, and all of them seemed to smile constantly when they were together. They corresponded often, Brittany's page was littered with comments from her family, and friends Santana had never met before. Her friends at The Lead missed her, and couldn't wait for her to get back into the office again.
Santana dreaded that day.
When the feature was, or... wasn't, published, Brittany would have to go back to her usual job. She wouldn't have the liberty to spend an entire day with Santana on official business. The change was already happening, Brittany was supposed to spend tomorrow at an editing meeting with Rachel and had already warned Santana that she might not make it into Clockwork at all.
Santana tried not to get too worked up about it. It's not like their relationship was going to be over once Brittany left Clockwork. Still, she loved going to work and seeing Brittany. She loved having someone know exactly what she did every day, why she felt the way she did about her work, understand her passions for it and her frustrations about it. She loved the underlying sense of support Brittany's presence inspired.
"Please tell me you're not going to be thinking about work all night."
Quinn's voice brought her out of her cyberstalking, and she bit back a sarcastic comment. Santana reminded herself to be nice. Like she told Brittany; they needed to get over the dishonesty that went along with the Sunshine drama, Quinn was just trying to help. Santana gave her friend a once over as she stood from the couch, "You look nice."
"Thanks, you too," Quinn smiled, surprised by the compliment. She had expected Santana to hold onto her grudge for a little longer, but was thankful that it seemed to be pushed aside for at least tonight, "You're not taking your purse?"
"Nah, got everything important in my wallet," Santana patted the small billfold in her jacket pocket.
Quinn nodded and stated rummaging through her own purse, "Let me make sure I have one of your epipens, I don't know where we're going so I don't know if they're peanut allergy friendly. I reminded Rachel about it, though."
"You don't know where we're going?" Santana was actually startled. "That's not driving you insane?"
"Don't remind me," Quinn would have loved to Google the restaurant and it's menu, but Rachel had insisted on a surprise. "Alright, I have it, we can take off."
"I'm probably gonna have to teach Brittany how to work one of those," Santana thought out loud as they headed for the door.
"Couldn't hurt," Quinn spared her a wry smile, "I remember trying to read the instructions while you nearly passed out next to me."
Santana rolled her eyes, "I actively try to forget that moment in my life."
"Yeah, I don't blame you."
With only an address to go off of, the friends made their way to the establishment of Rachel's choice. As Santana stepped out of the cab, her first words were, "I'm so offended right now."
"Don't judge it just yet," Quinn bit her lip to keep from laughing. Santana hated Mexican restaurants. "It could be totally authentic."
"No, you're right," Santana looked from her friend to the building and back, "with a name like El Rancho, how could it not be?"
Quinn lost it, erupting in a fit of laughter, because her nerves about Santana's behavior at the truce dinner and horrible food selection was just too much for her. Santana watched her with a thin frown, she really didn't find it that funny.
"Please—I'm begging you," Quinn took in a deep breath to dismiss her giggles, "please don't be mean about this. Rachel was hoping to use dinner to..." she licked her lips, thinking of the right word, "smooth things over between you and Brittany, and us."
"Because you two got caught being conniving bitches, and didn't want to let your friends play along?" Santana crossed her arms over her chest, quirking a challenging eyebrow.
"Yes," Quinn was just barely able to keep from rolling her eyes, "that."
"You're forgetting that I'm here for Brittany," Santana shoved her hands in the pockets of her jeans, looking up and down the sidewalk so she wouldn't have to look at Quinn, "I'm not going to trash on her boss, that's just plain rude, and I'm not going to ruin the night just because you hurt my feelings."
The fact that she said it made it so much more real to Quinn, and she felt guilty all over again. Santana noticed her face fall.
"Q, I know you were trying to look out for me," Santana shrugged, " and I think the fact that I need someone to do that bugs me more than being left out of the loop. I'm sorry I'm taking it so hard, I'll get over it."
Quinn stepped closer, bumping their shoulders together, "I still feel bad."
"Well, stop it," Santana caught her eyes. "I'm ready for a drink and since everyone around me thinks I'm so chronically stressed, let's not turn tonight into a pity party."
"Alright," Quinn was glad they could put it behind them.
"That doesn't mean I'm not going to be sarcastic as fuck about your girl's choice here," she eyed the restaurant with a healthy bit of disdain.
"If you're going to be mean," Quinn sighed sarcastically, "be mean to me, or discreetly, I don't want Rachel thinking you hate her. She's so nervous that you're going to be crazy upset with us after all this crap, she's developed a complex."
Santana knew that Rachel should really be worried about Brittany's forgiveness, but didn't feel like it wasn't her place to say anything. They walked into the restaurant and Santana was quick to point out, "They have a large cartoon depiction of a Mexican jumping bean on the wall. If that doesn't say authentic, I don't know what does."
Not wanting to provoke her any further, Quinn just gave her a look that could have been interpreted as agreement.
"I thought she was vegan," Santana continued when Quinn didn't say anything. "What's so vegan about commercial nacho cheese?"
"I hardly think Rachel would suggest a restaurant that didn't serve something vegan," Quinn mumbled under her breath before turning to the waiting host, "We're looking for our party, Rachel—"
"Miss Berry told me to expect you," he nodded and gestured for them to follow.
"Is she like a regular or something?" Santana shot Quinn a dubious look.
Santana followed the host to a booth in the back of the floor, neatly out of the way and kind of secluded. Santana approved of the placement. She didn't, however, like the fact that there was only one woman in the booth. Rachel stood as they walked up, hugging Quinn and kissing her cheek. Seeing Quinn and Rachel act like a couple made her feel awkward, and she wished Brittany was with her.
"I'm glad you guys could make it," Rachel smiled purposefully at Santana, still unsure if the Latina was harboring any ill feelings about her spy at Clockwork. "I know you're very busy Santana, I appreciate you taking a night off from working late to join us."
"It's no big deal," Santana met her eyes, trying to convey that she was here to be friendly, she was over the spy situation, and she just wanted to know, "Is Britt not here yet?"
"No," Rachel slid into one side of the booth and Quinn followed, "she just texted and said she would only be a few minutes longer. Stuck in traffic."
"I'm going to hang out in front and wait for her," Santana was happy for an excuse disappear. "Order me a drink, Q."
If they wanted to protest, Santana left before they could. She knew they would probably enjoy the moment to themselves as much as she wouldn't enjoy being the third wheel. She made her way out of the restaurant, being careful to keep her eyes out for the only reason she was even in this place.
Santana stepped onto the sidewalk with no sign of the blonde. At least it was a nice night out, the air crisp and as fresh as it can get in the city. A streetlight to her left flickered off and caught her attention. She eyed it for a moment, remembering when her father told her standing under a streetlight when it goes out was bad luck. It was an old superstition, and even as she told herself it was irrational, her eyes fell to the steady stream of people walking up and down the sidewalk, wondering who was cast in shadow at the right moment.
A particular figure caught her attention.
She squinted, taking a few steps towards the corner of the restaurant, where the building ended to form a small alcove between it and the travel center next door. There, leaning against the brick wall, the darkness of the alley was so thick, Brittany would have been completely unrecognizable if not for the glow of a cellphone on her face. The scene was nearly surreal, when Santana thought of Brittany, she thought about bright smiles and colorful scarves, definitely not rough brick walls, dark shadows, and grungy haze of... smoke?
Santana had never seen the woman smoke before.
She did a double take, just to be sure, but it was impossible to misinterpret the unmistakable action of bringing the object to her lips, the red glow on the end as she inhaled. Santana watched the smoke slowly tumble from her nose and the corner of her mouth that wasn't holding the butt as she used both hands to type something into her phone. Brittany slipped her phone into her pocket, and straightened a little, pushing a curl of blonde hair behind her ear, perhaps readying herself to go into the restaurant.
Santana started over just as she was taking another deep drag, the kind you took when you were about to finish your cigarette and go inside.
"This is some traffic jam."
Somewhere between the squeak of surprise and lungs full of smoke, Brittany lost her breath and started coughing. Santana bit her lip, feeling guilty about startling her into a coughing fit. "You alright?"
"Um yeah," Brittany coughed again, peering at Santana with squinting, watering eyes, "what are you doing out here?"
"I can ask you the same thing," Santana prompted quietly, "I didn't know you smoked."
Brittany didn't miss the subtle uncertainty in her voice. She wasn't sure how she felt about this new discovery. She didn't blame her at all, she had never found smoking to be very attractive, and for a lot of people it was a stern deal breaker.
"It's..." Brittany smiled as she caught her breath, trying to reassure her, "more of a hobby than a habit."
"I'm sure alcoholics say the same thing, you know, just a hobby," Santana watched her stub out the end on the wall, the sparks falling lazily to the ground.
Brittany's eyebrows twitched, entertained by her snark. "I take it you don't approve."
Santana pursed her lips to one side, scrunching her nose in an undecided expression, "It's... just an occasional thing?"
Brittany pushed off the wall, her eyes tilted to the sky, "Only once in a blue moon."
"What's the special occasion?" Santana's eyes were concerned and cautious.
"I... um, needed to relax a little," Brittany wandered out of the alleyway and closer to Santana, her hand twisting back and forth at the wrist in indecisive gesture, "I'm kinda… maybe… sorta still worried about how I'm going to act towards Rachel. I didn't want to go in until you got here, so I've been chilling out here."
The corners of Santana's lips quirked up in a smile that she was trying to hide, "That's hilarious, because I came out here to wait for you so I wouldn't have to sit in there with them."
"Twinsies," Brittany chuckled lowly, her hand wandering out, grasping a dark curl in her fingers. Santana blinked at her forwardness, sure they were on a random sidewalk, and it was doubtful that anyone in the area knew them, but it was still unexpected. "Are you still mad at Quinn?"
"No, we're over it," Santana let Brittany slowly twirl the lock of hair around her finger, her blue eyes watching herself do it in an amused fashion. "I'm just not really feeling that… sociable right now."
"Stressed out?"
Santana let out a short breath, "I swear, if one more person tells me I'm stressed out I'm going to kill somebody. The only reason I'm stressed is because everyone keeps telling me I am."
"So by that logic..." Brittany's lips tilted into a lopsided grin, "if I get everyone to tell you you're awesome, then you'll start to believe it?"
Santana's pulled a dismissive face, a brash contradiction to the bashful light in her eyes.
"That's not logic," Santana mumbled, not missing the way Brittany kept getting closer, but she wasn't about to step back.
"I would do it though," Brittany brought the end of the captured stand of hair and brushed it over her chin. "I would tell everyone."
"That I'm awesome?" Santana repeated skeptically.
Brittany leaned in close, the look in her eye deadly serious, whispering the words like it was the answer to the meaning of life, "The awesomest."
"Get away from me," Santana laughed warmly, pushing Brittany's shoulder playfully.
Brittany's face lit up at the sound of her laughter, warm and melodic. She caught the brunette by her wrist. "Let's go inside, I'm actually starving."
"You actually want to eat this shit?"
"Have you been here before?" Brittany asked and the look on Santana's face gave her the answer, "Oh hush, you haven't even seen the food yet."
"I've seen the fine decorations on the walls," Santana eyed them again as they walked in the front door, "and that's all I need to know."
"Rachel swears by their guacamole wraps," Brittany paused at the host's station, "Hey."
He glanced at her, wondering if Santana needed directions to their table again. "How can I help you, ma'am?"
"Can I get one of those?"
He followed her pointing finger to the stash of place mats and crayon boxes. He looked at Santana, unsure if the blonde was being serious or not.
Santana raised a single eyebrow in challenge, "How 'bout you give her the crayons, esse."
He did as he was told, and Brittany thanked him politely. Santana promptly threaded their arms together and escorted her blonde past the jumping bean and the display of sombreros. "Rachel's got a booth in the back."
Brittany giggled, rolling the paper place mats into a cylinder and swatted Santana's shoulder with it, "You're very intimidating, Miss Lopez."
Santana licked her lips, a bubbling swell of pride rising in her chest, "Only when crayons are involved."
"I thought you two had ditched us," Quinn said honestly as they walked up.
"You know how traffic can be, Q," Santana brushed it off, guiding Brittany into the booth first.
"I'm glad you made it, Brittany," Rachel's eyes passed between the latecomers, observing their interactions with a soft smile.
"Oh, you know, I was in the neighborhood," she was avoiding Rachel's eyes, and the tension between them was nearly unnoticeable. Brittany pulled a menu out of the rack on the wall and handed it to Santana. "Will you order for me?"
"What, because I'm Hispanic?"
Brittany snorted, elbowing her gently, "No, because I trust your judgment."
Santana glanced at her, but Brittany was already setting up her place mat and crayons. Her eyes skated to Rachel's and some awkward understanding passed between them silently. She ignored the smirk on Quinn's face as she opened the menu slowly, glancing over the items, "Any preferences?"
"Surprise me."
Santana accepted the challenge, although, she wasn't really impressed with the menu anyway. They fell into an easy conversation about a movie that had just come out. Quinn and Rachel had gone to see it the other day, Brittany was waiting for it to come out on BlueRay, and Santana had never heard of it before.
"That just says that you work too much," Brittany stacked the plastic bowls for complimentary tortilla chips on top of each other as soon as they became empty. She had eaten both bowls herself.
"I think it's a good thing, I have fewer distractions in my life," Santana explained conversationally, pushing the empty bowls to the edge of the table so the waiter could pick them up. "I have focus… but you're probably right. I can't remember the last time I've been in a movie theater."
Quinn was oddly impressed by Brittany's ability to say things like that with such a casual candor. Whenever she said something similar, Santana was quick to defend herself, and it was a rare moment for her to admit that she worked too hard in any way. Brittany was able to get her to do that so easily.
"You have to see this movie though," Brittany tapped a crayon on the table to emphasize her point. "I am like, so excited about it."
Santana picked up a stray crayon, it was blue, the wax paper smooth in her grip, "Then we'll watch it."
No one at the table missed the implication, when Santana finally crawled out of her basement, it would be because of Brittany.
"I'd like that," Brittany sent her a sideways glance before returning to her drawing.
As suspected, Santana was sure she could cook better food than what was on her plate. She picked idly at her meal, calculating calories to the number of sessions with Blaine she had before the next set of promotional advertisements. To her right, Brittany was already finished with her food, she had cleaned her plate and for the life of her, Santana wasn't sure where she put it all.
Brittany had been using her drawing as a placid excuse to keep her comments selective; adding her two cents in when she had something nice to say, but having an excuse to look busy when she didn't. Santana had realized what she was doing immediately, and forgot her own social grievances to try to divert attention as much as possible. She was actually having a little fun of it, because it was so obvious that Rachel was trying to get back into Brittany's good graces.
"Actually, I was just at that cute little pottery shop you're so fond of, Brittany," Rachel shifted the conversation from shopping to the ceramics store Brittany had taken Santana to.
"Really?" her eyes shifted from her place mat, peering up from beneath her bangs. "What for?"
"You talk about it so much," Rachel picked at a spot on the table, "I thought it would be worth looking into, and believe me, it was. I've already slotted a column on it in the Arts section, the piece should run next month."
"That's... actually really cool, Rachel," Brittany leaned back in her booth for the first time since she sat down and smiled at the pair across from her. "They could really use the publicity."
"They deserve it too."
Santana was sure Rachel had found her way back onto Brittany's good side. Rachel must have figured it out too because her eyes held a relieved quality that made Santana chuckle quietly.
"Speaking of," Brittany turned to Santana, her hand falling on the woman's thigh easily, "Trent brought me our pots, next time you come over you can pick yours up."
"How about you keep it," Santana suggested quietly, trying to ignore Brittany's hand and reaching for her drink, "I had planned on giving it to you when I was making it, anyway."
"Psh, no way," Brittany shook her head with a please blush on her face, "I'm not taking the fruits of your first pottery experience from you, stuff like that so important that I would almost suggest getting it framed."
A bubble of laughter threatened and Santana had to cough into her fist to keep from choking on her drink. The couple across from them did laugh, her words prompting Quinn to ask, "You made a pot?"
She caught her breath before answering, "Yeah, like with clay and one of the spinning table things."
The look on Quinn's face was a bemused as it was priceless and Santana scoffed, "What? I can't be creative?"
"When it comes to something that's not plugged into a wall?" she looked playfully contemplative for a second, "Um, no it wouldn't cross my mind."
"See that's where you're mistaken," Brittany shifted slightly closer to Santana, her hand gripping a hair tighter, "Santana picked up on the crafty thing pretty quickly. I was very proud."
Because her face was flaring into an blush, Santana had to say, "I totally kicked that pots ass."
"Owned it," Brittany agreed, a slow grin forming on her lips.
Santana's eyes narrowed, detecting sarcasm, "You're making fun of me."
"Just a bit," Brittany sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, trying to hide her smile.
"Again," Santana remembered an old argument, "not as subtle as you think you are."
"I wasn't really trying," her voice dropped to a volume only Santana could hear as her hand squeezed suggestively, "but if you want me to try something, I will."
Santana turned to the women across from her, effectively deviating conversation towards something other than an innuendo, "So, Rachel, have you ever played racquetball?"
If either of them knew she was changing the subject, they were kind enough to allow it gracefully.
Santana was glad to escape the restaurant within the hour, satisfied that everyone had warm fuzzies towards each other by the end of it. She barely registered Quinn and Rachel bidding them good night, they were off to get a cup of coffee and Santana assumed go back to Rachel's place. Santana herself was too preoccupied with the alcove next to the building and the memory of finding Brittany in it.
"Santana, say goodbye to your friends," Brittany nudged her shoulder, pulling her attention back to the people around her.
"What?" Santana blinked towards Quinn and Rachel's amused faces. "Oh, yeah, I had a nice time Rachel, thanks, and I'll see you tomorrow Q."
The women waved, turned down the sidewalk arm in arm. Santana watched them go.
"Dinner wasn't so bad," Brittany admitted. "Was it weird for you, to see Quinn with Rachel, like you thought it was going to be?"
Santana thought about it, and answered honestly, "No, I guess not, but they weren't exactly being cheesy together because Rachel was too busy trying to get you to talk to her."
An embarrassed expression spread over Brittany face as she ducked her head to hide it, mumbling, "Yeah, I was kind of being a bitch."
"I thought it was classic," Santana praised, slipping her arm around Brittany's waist and leading her down the sidewalk. She wasn't sure where she was going, in the opposite direction of their friends, yes, but she didn't have a real destination. Anywhere with Brittany would be fine.
"You were actually being very sociable," Brittany praised, "and I thought you weren't in the mood."
Santana shrugged, "Well, it seemed like you didn't really want to talk either so... I thought I would talk enough for the both of us."
"I appreciate it," Brittany mumbled into her dark hair, throwing an arm around Santana's shoulders as they kept walking. "So where are we headed?"
"I was thinking..." Santana licked her lips, "your place? I mean, I have to get my pot."
"How about..." Brittany glanced around the street, gauging the prospect of getting cab, "your place."
Santana quirked an eyebrow curiously, wondering Brittany's reasoning behind the preference.
"That way," she smiled down at Santana, "you don't have to worry about going back to your place in the morning, and can sleep for a whole half an hour longer before you rush off to work at five in the morning."
Santana was charmed by the thoughtfulness of the suggestion and her grip tightened around Brittany's waist, "Sounds like a plan. Even though I wont be looking forward to work nearly as much as I usually do..."
"What do you mean?" she had an idea, a hope, as to why.
"Because you're not going to be there," Santana confirmed in a blase tone, as if it didn't really bother her. The way she avoided Brittany's eyes told the blonde otherwise.
"If it means anything," Brittany kissed the top of her head, "I'm going to miss you too."
Even though Santana wished she hadn't been so obvious, she was glad that Brittany understood and felt the same way. Maybe the professional separation wont be such a bad thing. She could already see herself looking froward to visiting each other in their office buildings, sneaking out of work early to go to dinner, maybe even coming in late after a particularly good date night.
Santana was pretty sure she could look forward to all of that.
"It means everything."