It was well past dinner time and Quinn had yet to come down from her room. Santana wasn't surprised. It had been a really long, tiring, eventful day. She teetered on the bottom step, bouncing on the balls of her feet, her toes digging into the soft carpet, looking up the stairs and into what she could see of the hallway. Quinn was up there, of that she was sure. The purse hanging in it's usual spot on the railing told her so.
"Quinn?" Santana called up the stairs for the third time. Much like the basement was her own space, Quinn ruled the upstairs. It's not like Santana needed permission to go anywhere in their home, but after a day like today... she wanted to give Quinn the courtesy of a warning. "Quinn, I'm coming up and bringing dinner."
She moved up the stairs slowly, balancing two bowls in her hands. The hallway was dark, and she expected it to be. When Quinn was upset, she favored dramatically dark, sheltered places. They were similar in that aspect. There was only one light on, a small desk lamp in Quinn's study, it's light pooling from the open door and into the hallway, illuminating a the only other person in the household. Santana stopped outside the door. She looked cautiously down at the woman, sitting against the wall across the hall from the door, looking into the room with a vacant stare.
"Quinn," Santana knelt down, pressing her back to the wall and sliding the rest of the way to the floor, "I made you dinner."
When the warm bowl made contact with her thigh in a gentle nudge, Quinn's focus fell to the bowl of spaghetti, a fork sticking out haphazardly from under a piece of garlic bread. She took the dish with a mumbled, "Thanks."
"What are we looking at?" Santana asked not unkindly, taking up her own fork and twirling the noodles around it. She had eaten her own bread at the bottom of the stairs as she debated coming up here.
Quinn stayed quiet, pushing her spaghetti around the bowl for a moment before saying, "What could have been."
From her spot next to Quinn and across the hall, Santana could see an edge of Quinn's desk, a sturdy bookshelf that was busting at the seems, comfortable chairs... she didn't really understand.
"What do you mean?"
"You know what the very worst part of giving her up was?" Quinn kept her eyes on the food she probably wasn't going to eat and Santana waited for her to continue. "Realizing that years ago you couldn't have provided for her the way you were supposed to be able to... as a... as a mother."
Santana set her fork down, the sense of complete self-loathing radiating off the blonde was putting her off her appetite.
"Then, years later, when you have a degree, a nice job, and a house," Quinn scoffed to herself, "fucking dental, and a 401k... you start to see how easily you could provide for her now, and that makes things so much worse. Seeing how she could have fit into my life now, but isn't—because I gave her up."
"Q, you wouldn't be where you are now if—"
"Don't tell me she would have been a burden," Quinn cut Santana off. "Single moms go to college all the time. It was possible, I was just too scared... too selfish to want to work that hard."
"And what? Leave her in daycare while you juggle a job, night school, and everything she needs?" Santana played devils advocate in the softest, gentlest tone she could provide. "It was lose-lose either way. I know it sucks now, yeah, this room could have been your daughter's bedroom instead of a study. You're right, but honestly, it would have taken you ten more years to get to this point if you had gone down that road."
"I could have done it."
"You could have," Santana wasn't arguing otherwise, "but twelve years ago you made a decision to give that kid a way to have the best life possible, in that moment, not fifteen years from then when you finally get a degree from night school at community college and she's grown up with babysitters, so you don't even know her when you come home at night."
"You don't know that it would have ended up like that," Quinn knew there was some truth to what Santana was saying. It had been her worst fear when she was trying to make the decision in the first place. What if, even with all of her hard work, she still couldn't give her child what she needed?
"I don't," Santana conceded, "but I do know she looked adorable in that softball get up."
The remark inspired a breath of laughter from the blonde, "She did."
"Didn't you play softball as a kid?" Santana asked, eying the small smile in her friend's eyes.
"I did," Quinn glanced at the ceiling as she thought back, "shortstop."
"How did you not know you were into girls until college?" Santana teased, earning herself a punch on the thigh. "Joking, joking, god."
"You're one to talk," Quinn rolled her eyes, "you were so far in the closet our first year at UCLA, it took a sorority intervention to get you to admit it to yourself."
Santana flushed at the memory, "Whatever, you were the one jumping on the bandwagon so..."
Quinn laughed at her weak comeback and Santana was just happy to be able to get her to laugh somehow, "Yeah, we had some pretty fun times back then."
"Yeah," Santana agreed, "look Q, I don't know about what coulda, woulda, shoulda been, all I know is that you did right by both you and your daughter back then. I've never doubted that."
Quinn sighed quietly, "That's what Rachel said too."
Santana bristled at the mention of her name, the attack on Brittany still fresh in her mind, "Well, it's nice that we agree on at least one thing."
"I know she's probably not your favorite person after that argument she started with Brittany," Quinn chuckled dryly, taking an interest in her spaghetti for the first time, "but don't be too harsh to judge her. Not everyone has gotten used to the idea that one person could ruin everything they've ever worked for in the blink of an eye like you have."
"I don't care what was going through her head," Santana told her, "she was so far out of line back there she was off the fucking grid."
"It probably doesn't mean anything to you," Quinn shrugged as she took a bite of her food, "but she told me she would've never made Brittany take another drug test."
"Nope," Santana shook her head, "not a thing."
After a few more bites, Quinn stated the obvious, "So Brittany's a pothead."
Santana frowned around her fork, unsure if she was going to take offense to that term, instead she said, "Apparently."
"You didn't know?"
"I had no idea," Santana didn't want to admit that there was still a lot about that piece of information that she still didn't know.
"I don't really blame her for not telling you this early in your relationship," Quinn could tell Santana didn't know what to think about it just yet. "Have you talked to her about it?"
"Only enough to find out why she didn't tell me, and how many times she's been high around me and I didn't know."
"How many is that?"
"Just once," Santana thought back, thinking about clues. Should she have figured it out sooner? "When we all went to dinner at that bogus Mexican place."
Quinn's eyebrows quirked up in surprise, "Wow, in front of Rachel and everything?"
"I know," Santana set her bowl aside, "don't you think that's... like, totally reckless?"
"Or completely normal," Quinn suggested, "because if what Rachel told me was the truth, then Brittany shouldn't have been afraid to get caught, because Rachel never would have done anything about it anyway."
Santana mulled it over in her head as Quinn finished off her dinner.
"Do you have a problem with it?" Quinn asked her seriously.
Santana wasn't sure how she was supposed to feel, "How can I have a problem with her smoking pot after she's already accepted the fact that there's pictures—and a video of me and her ex-boyfriend floating around?"
"Don't think of it like that," Quinn frowned, surprising Santana. "Don't do it out of some sort of sense of obligation because she's always been really understanding. If this is okay with you, it has to be because it's okay with you, not because she's okay with your own issues."
Santana bit the inside of her cheek, really trying to figure out what was bothering her about this, "I just don't know anything about it, I mean, I've never smoked pot before in my life. I've never even been around people doing it. You know the kinds of people I hung out with in college, people drinking themselves into liver failure, or nerds too caught up in their studies to get a healthy does of vitamin D. It's like, a totally foreign concept to me. I don't know how I'm supposed to react to this."
"You need to tell her that," Quinn chuckled next to her, finding the situation amusing, "because seriously, she's too good a girl to let this get in the way, and who knows, maybe she'll quit if you ask nice."
"I wouldn't want to make her do that," Santana mumbled, she was sure of that much.
"Then I guess you have your answer."
After two full days of editing, Brittany was finally able to get away from the office for one more day with Santana, and for a reason that had everything to do with business. The feature was to be printed in only a few days time, as soon as she finished this last task.
Brittany had found her just as she wanted her; surrounded by a few coworkers, tablet in hand, the focus clear in her eyes. It was obvious that she was giving direction, clear and precise, as always. She gave orders that were easy to be executed because she had always been very forthright about what she wants. The people around her were listening attentively, not wanting to miss a detail and risk disappointing her. She was scary when she was disappointed.
Santana had a very obvious control over the area around her and Brittany was happy to catch it on film.
At the sound of a shutter, Santana's eyes narrowed sharply, honing in on the offending sound. Brittany bit back a laugh at how quickly Santana's face changed from intimidatingly suspicious, to bright eyes and the beginnings of an excited smile. Santana was quick to excuse the gathering and the people around her broke off to attend to their assigned tasks. A few glanced at Brittany with kind smiles, used to her presence around the office.
As Santana walked over she tucked her tablet under her arm, pushing stray lock of hair behind her ear, her eyes fell to the floor just before she stepped up to the blonde. She finally glanced up, trying her best to keep from looking too happy to see her girlfriend, mumbling, "What are you doing here?"
"I have one more thing to do before we publish," Brittany held up her camera as explanation and chuckled when Santana rolled her eyes playfully.
"I hate cameras."
"I know," Brittany turned on the review feature of the digital camera to flip through the pictures she had taken at the last convention, "but I want some pictures of you around you office doing everyday stuff, instead of just the convention… is that okay?"
Santana didn't even have to think about it before she said, "Of course Britt, whatever you want. Are you getting excited about the release?"
"More like nervous," Brittany laughed at herself softly, she was actually losing sleep over the whole thing. "Crazy nervous."
"Don't worry about it," Santana told her. Brittany shifted her focus back up from the camera to see the confidence clear in Santana's eyes when she said, "it's going to be great."
"Did you come in super early this morning?" Brittany asked before she could think better of it, catching the flash of uncertainly in Santana's eyes.
"Why, do I look like I'm running on three hours of sleep?"
"No," she assured her, biting her lip and shaking her head, "no, not at all. It's your glasses, San. I asked because of your glasses, you always wear them when you come in early, and I thought that maybe the morning got too hectic before you could put your contacts in like you normally do."
Because they were the subject of conversation, Santana fidgeted with the frames, "Um, actually, I thought about putting in my contacts, but then I realized that I didn't care."
"I'm glad."
Santana caught her eyes and she knew exactly why Brittany was glad, she loved her glasses. Santana had to look away to try to hide her blush, but she could almost feel the blonde grinning next to her.
"I was just about to head to the lab," Santana took a step in that direction and gestured awkwardly with her thumb, still too giddy about Brittany's sudden appearance in the office to even pretend to be smooth.
Brittany watched her amused eyes, finding her behavior endearing, "That's perfect."
It was truly her last day of shadowing Santana and Brittany was going to make the best of it. She took her time to get the photos she wanted, Santana at a computer in the lab, working with the team that was closest with her, Mike and Sam. It was a happy coincidence that Brittany was in time for the morning COG, which was more of a progress report for the exhibition than pitching new ideas. Brittany was glad to get a snapshot of the meeting, Santana among her peers in the circular meeting area.
When she was finished taking her pictures, Brittany lowered herself into the seat next to Santana, still left open on the assumption that she would be joining eventually. It was a gesture that made Brittany feel like she belonged there and she loved it. Brittany listened to the happenings around her, appreciating the vacant seat across from them; Jacob wasn't missed at all.
"Are you interviewing to replace Jacob?" Brittany asked as the conversations broke down into smaller groups when the called the end of the meeting.
"Not at the moment," Santana shrugged, gathering her tablet. "I'll start after the exhibition. I already have a few applications submitted, no one looks to promising yet."
They stood in unison, moving towards Santana's office, because that was what they always did after these meetings. As always, Santana opened the door and waited for Brittany to go first.
"When are you going to take this desk out?" Brittany asked, quirking an eyebrow teasingly.
"Oh, you know," Santana waved her hand dismissively and didn't meet Brittany's eyes, "whenever I get around to it."
"You don't want to take it out," Brittany bit her lip, watching Santana pause as she was connecting her tablet to her computer.
Her dark brown eyes shifted from the desk in question, to Brittany's flattered expression, to her own hands. She had never really been a sentimental person, but Santana wanted Brittany's desk to stay there. She continued her work as she admitted, "No, I don't want to take it out… and hey, I don't mean to brush you off, but I have to send out some emails really quick."
"No problem," Brittany waited until Santana had settled into her office chair to pull her camera back to her eye and snap a quick shot while the brunette's focus was diverted by trying to look like she wasn't too emotionally involved in the conversation.
Again, Santana's focus was quick to shoot to the camera in hand.
Brittany dropped the object to her stomach, "are you sure this is okay?"
Santana gave her a small smile, "Yeah, I promise, Britt. The noise just startled me."
It surprised her how comfortable she was in front of a camera with Brittany. It's not like it was the first time she had taken Santana's picture, Brittany had been there with a camera at the conventions, and even just now around the office, it was easy to keep her focus on her work and not on the sound of a shutter closing nearby. Here in her office, however, when it was just the two of them and the only thing Santana could focus on was Brittany and her camera… it made Santana nervous in a different kind of way.
Not the usual skin crawling, get that camera away from me kind of way, more like the… I hope she likes what she sees kind of way.
"How's the um… editing going?" Santana asked for conversation, her hands were moving along the keyboard, but her eyes stayed resolutely on Brittany's.
Brittany caught the edge to her tone and laughed softly, "It's been going alright. Rachel has been very nice actually."
"Good," Santana glanced back to her screen, she was still holding a grudge against the editor about what happened after the fiasco with St. James. Brittany had been trying to get her to overlook it, but wasn't having much luck.
"Santana," Brittany walked a little closer, keeping Santana's desk between them.
"Hm?" she lifted her eyebrows in question, as if she didn't know what Brittany was trying to scold her for.
"You're really cute when you're being protective and stubborn."
Santana scoffed, hitting the send button and opening another window, "I'm not being stubborn."
Brittany raised her camera to take another picture before saying, "You are probably one of the most stubborn people I've ever met, and I miss seeing it all day, everyday, because I love it."
"I'm..." Santana flushed with a wry smile, "not really sure how I'm supposed to take that."
"Take it as a compliment, and an offer," Brittany set her camera down, taking care to point the lens away from the Latina. She made her way slowly around the desk and could feel Santana's eyes follow her. She always did like it when Santana stared. She got to the other side of the desk, and by this time Santana had stopped typing altogether, her dark eyes focused entirely on the blonde as she leaned down and said, "because I want to spend time with you, tonight."
"Um," Santana licked her lips, her heart might have just skipped a beat, "what did you have in mind?"
Brittany just smiled coyly, leaning forward to close the small distance that was left between them and kissed the brunette like she had wanted to since she first stepped into the building. Santana leaned heavily onto the arm of her chair to get a fraction of an inch closer to the blonde, to be able to kiss her deeper. The blonde's fingers worked gently into her hair, cupping her face as her tongue teased along Santana's bottom lip. Brittany pulled away, still smiling as Santana let out a small pout. Her eyes flicked over to Santana's computer and her smile only grew, "Nice email."
Confused, Santana turned to her computer. She groaned when she found a string of useless letters littering her document, she had been accidentally hitting her keyboard as they kissed.
"It's almost a good thing that you're going back to your real job," Santana had to say it even if the blush on her face was getting darker with every word, "because I never would be able to get any work down with you here any longer. I've been doing great so far, but I swear there's been times... I've barely been able to keep myself professional."
Brittany laughed from behind her as she fixed her email, kissing the top of her head softly, "I know exactly what you mean."
A quiet night of video games and beer seemed to be the perfect solution for the rough week they had. Santana had made them dinner, Quinn had made herself scarce, and now it was time to enjoy each others company and a large flat screen TV.
"Ask me another," Santana prompted, keeping her eyes on the television where her Skyrim character was questing like a badass.
"What do you find unattractive in women?" Brittany asked with a sly smile. She was sitting behind Santana, the smaller woman nestled between her legs, head resting on Brittany's shoulder, their feet resting on the coffee table.
"That's one of those crazy girlfriend loaded questions," Santana snorted.
"Who is this crazy ex-girlfriend that's scared you so badly?" Brittany's hands, that were sitting easy against Santana's hips, slipped over her stomach, drawing her up closer. "It can't be Tina because she's awesome."
Santana laughed at the thought, "No, I'm just paranoid."
"Well knock it off, 'cause I'm not crazy," Brittany promised, "but I am blonde, and that puts me ahead already, so you don't have to worry."
"That's true," Santana mused, adjusting her glasses before continuing her quest.
"So… what's something you don't like?"
"Do you mean physically?" Santana scrunched her nose, "or are we talking personality."
"Let's start with physically," Brittany teased and Santana rolled her eyes with a smile.
"Okay fine," she considered it for a moment, and Brittany waited for her to gather her thoughts, "I'm not really a fan of women that are shorter than me. Like, Rachel is way too short."
"Would you prefer taller or about the same height?" Brittany took a strand of Santana's hair between her fingers, twirling it slowly.
Santana wasn't sure if Brittany was fishing or not, but she answered truthfully, "Taller."
"Do you like being the little spoon?"
"I could be the big spoon if I wanted," Santana flushed, nearly embarrassed by her little spoon status. Little spoons weren't nearly as badass as she'd like to think of herself as.
Brittany tickled the soft fabric along Santana's ribs, "So you must like being the little spoon, because you haven't tried to be the big spoon yet. Plus, we're kind of spoon-sitting right now, and it was totally your idea."
Santana huffed dismissively and Brittany laughed. She wouldn't say it out loud, and she really didn't have to. She loved being the little spoon and Brittany knew it. There was something about being wrapped up in the blonde's arms that made her feel more comfortable with the world than she's felt in years.
"What else?"
"Hm," Santana made a pondering noise in the back of her throat and Brittany could feel the rumble in her chest. "I'm not really into big boobs. I mean seriously, anything more than a handful is a waste."
Brittany giggled into her temple, "You're ridiculous."
"I am," Santana shrugged cutely, pressing against Brittany's chin gently, "and you asked, so what about you?"
"What do I not like in women?" Brittany repeated the question as she thought about her answer. "I don't know, I'm not really picky, like I said, I've never had a particular type that I look for. I don't think I could be with a woman that was taller than me, that would just freak me out. I think Quinn's height is as tall as I would want to go."
"Is that the same with the guys you've dated?"
Brittany watched Santana's character slay a few wolves as she answered, "No, they're normally taller than me, or pretty close to the same height."
"I guess you can't look for the same things in a man that you like in a woman," Santana snuggled a little closer deeper into Brittany, moving her foot so their sock covered feet were touching.
"Not really, no."
"Which do you like better?" Santana had to ask, "Girls or boys?"
"That's not a fair question," Brittany laughed, pinching Santana's side and loving the way she squirmed under her fingers, "they're so different."
"It's like asking if you'd rather ski or snowboard," Santana countered, "sure they're completely different things, but at the end of the day you're still on the bottom of a mountain."
Brittany pondered it while Santana shuffled though weapon options for her character, "You want me to say that I like girls better."
Santana rolled her eyes like it was obvious, but Brittany could tell that she was playing around, "Well, yeah."
"I love girls," Brittany spoke a little more sincerely, "they're way more complicated at times... but I think it can totally be worth it."
"I'm pretty complicated," Santana admitted quietly.
Brittany held her close, "It's one of the things I love about you."
"I love everything about you," Santana declared in the same softly serious voice.
"That's not even true," Brittany chuckled lightheartedly, "you have an issue with that stuff Jesse St. James showed everyone about me."
Santana bit her lip, "Okay, so I'm not sure I'd be up for hanging out while you're… well, getting high… but it'll grow on me... eventually, I'm sure."
The soft kiss on her cheek was a silent thank you for at least trying.
"I get that you might not want to talk about it," Santana mumbled softly, "but... I'd kinda like to know about all this stuff with Rachel. I don't wanna assume that I know the whole story, and honestly, I wouldn't think a magazine would do that much drug testing."
Brittany captured the fabric or Santana's shirt and tugged gently, her toe tracing the arch of Santana's foot.
"It's embarrassing," Brittany glanced at the ceiling, "but it was right after that story about the bakery was published, do you remember what I'm talking about? The one that was closing?"
"Yeah, then after your story published the story the place got enough publicity to stay in business," Santana nodded, "I remember."
"Right," Brittany was pleased that Santana remembered, "after that story ran, I kind of made a name for myself around the office, and that's when Rachel first took a notice to me. She told me I had all sorts of potential and was on my way to becoming a journalist."
"And she wasn't wrong," Santana offered quietly.
"She almost was," Brittany sighed. "While I was writing about the bakery, we picked up a few stories about marijuana rings in public schools and Rachel did a bunch of blanket testing after they were all said and done. She didn't expect the only person to test positive to be one of the only reporters not involved in that particular investigation."
"Shit."
"Yeah," Brittany mumbled into her hair, "like I said, she could have fired me, but instead she swept it under the table and gave me another assignment."
"Why didn't she fire you right off the bat," Santana's eyebrows furrowed, "if you guys weren't even friends then and she didn't have a reason to help you?"
"She told me that she had been really impressed with my writing," Brittany shrugged, "and that I was completely honest with her when she confronted me about failing the test. Obviously I left out that arrest, but I was up front about everything else. She decided to keep an eye on me after that, made me report to her directly about a lot of my work. Eventually, she stopped coming to my cubical to ask me about my work and started asking me about my life. Now, she's seriously one of my best friends."
Santana was quiet for a moment before glancing sideways to the woman and asking, "Why would she treat you like that then? She went off on you like crazy back in my office, Britt. She was totally threatening you."
"She was upset that I lied to her," Brittany had the decency to look guilty about it. "I never told her about being arrested and it hurt her."
"I still don't think—"
"She would never fire me," Brittany met her eyes and Santana realized that Brittany believed it completely. "She doesn't like the fact that I do it, so she makes it really inconvenient by testing me and giving me a guilt trip, but she's told me, she's promised me, that she would never do that."
"You trust her?" Santana wanted to make sure.
"I do," Brittany nodded. "If I didn't trust her I would have stopped a long time ago, there's no way I would risk my career like that. I'm not stupid. She's all about the threat. She's not heartless, Santana."
"Hm," Santana continued playing her game and Brittany could feel the question lingering in the air.
"Do you want to know about the arrest?"
Santana bit her lip, "You don't have to explain yourself to me."
"You're curious."
"I am."
"I just want you to know that I'm not a dealer," Brittany chuckled low in her chest. "I've never been a dealer."
"Then why were you arrested with intent to distribute?"
"I was with a group of friends, yes, a bunch of pot headed teenagers," Brittany explained with a mild sarcasm. "We were in a usual hang out, an abandoned barn on some guy's property. The cops got called, we scattered. A few of them already had priors so... I took their stuff, hid it in my purse, and booked it."
"That was a great idea," Santana mumbled under her breath, earning her a sharp poke in the ribs.
"I was caught, obviously, and when they searched my purse there was all these little baggies of weed and it looked like I was selling to the rest of them," Brittany continued, ignoring Santana's sass. Brittany knew the woman was just trying to make light of the situation. "They wanted to try me as an adult and give me some crazy sentence to make an example of me because some guy was up for reelection."
Santana squeezed Brittany's knee sympathetically, "How did you get around that?"
"My parents sued the county for police brutality," Brittany explained softly, a bitter tone to her voice, "you saw that shiner on the arrest photo right? They came to some sort of deal and it was dropped from my record after my parole and community service."
"That's really cool that your parents were behind you like that, I think my parents would have disowned me. Even if it was just something silly I did when I was young."
"I was pretty lucky about everything," Brittany smiled into her hair, happy that she was able to admit everything and Santana still wanted to sit on this couch with her.
They fell into an easy silence, glad to feel the weight of a confession lift of their shoulders, clear the air, understand each other even better. After watching Santana play for a few more minutes, she kissed the woman's ear softly, smirking when Santana flinched in a way that meant she was being tickled.
"What's your quest about?"
"Being a badass," Santana joked, really she had stopped focusing a while ago.
"So exciting," Brittany chuckled. She slid her hands up Santana's ribs and paused just shy of the underside of her breasts.
"You're totally not helping my concentration," Santana mumbled in a breath.
"I'm sorry," Brittany smiled, her hands retreating back to Santana's hips, which didn't really help.
"You're fine," Santana licked her bottom lip, "I like it."
Brittany played idly with the hem of Santana's shirt, "Can I...?"
Santana tilted her head back and kissed the blonde softly, "Yes."
Brittany smiled into their kiss and wasn't surprised that Santana pulled away smiling too. She turned back to her game and continued their previous conversation, "Ask me another question."
"How old were you when you lost your virginity?"
Santana felt herself blushing already, "Sixteen, you?"
Brittany's hands slipped under her shirt, tracing light, loopy patterns in the skin just under her belly button. "I was fifteen, sophomore, his name was Jake."
"I can't even remember what his name started with," Santana didn't feel guilty either, "he was some stupid—"
"Football player?"
"I was going to say jock," Santana smirked, "but yeah."
"I want to see you in a cheerleading outfit," Brittany whispered into Santana's ear, her warm breath washing over the sensitive skin. Santana was barely able to suppress a shudder.
"I burned all of the pictures," Santana kept her eyes on the television, trying to ignore the fingers creeping up her sides. They worked a little pressure here and there, somehow, Brittany had already figured out where to press to make her laugh, and where to press to make her shiver.
"That's too bad," she continued working her hands up Santana's ribs, giving each natural rung its own affection, then falling back down her stomach.
Brittany's thumbs traced the thick elastic band of Santana's Nike sweatpants, riding low on her hips. They moved from the center until they could sink into the pockets made by Santana's hipbones raising the fabric.
"I think you would be totally hot in a little uniform," Brittany let her lips graze the shell of Santana's ear, causing her glasses to go slightly askew, and Santana wasn't able to keep her breath from hitching, "and you glasses."
A lopsided grin spread over Santana's face at the image, "Blasphemous."
"Beautiful," Brittany corrected, her hands raking blunt nails over the gorgeous olive skin. Santana's shirt bunched under her fingers as she moved her hands up her abdomen. She placed a loving kiss on the crook of Santana's neck, in that place where her lips had first touched the woman.
Santana remembered that day, and her body did too; it came alive with the memory of what Brittany had inspired in that dressing room. She felt her pulse pound against the skin of her neck, ringing in her ears. She took in a slow, steadying breath, her eyes fluttering closed until her pride made her look back to her game.
Last time they made out on this couch Santana hadn't exactly been proud of her performance, she wasn't about to give in easily this time. Brittany made a trail of nibbling kisses up the arch of her neck, placing one on the corner of her jaw before taking Santana's earlobe in her mouth. Santana nearly ran her character off a cliff, a strangled noise spilling from her deep in her throat.
She could feel Brittany's lips quirk into a smile, but the blonde didn't let up, sucking teasingly on the small piece of flesh as her fingers brushed along the underside of Santana's bra, just light enough to make her presence known and to make her want more. Brittany didn't miss the way Santana's chest expanded with a drawing breath, hoping to urge Brittany's hands into fuller contact, show her exactly what she could be holding onto.
Brittany let her teeth slide down the earlobe in her mouth, earning herself the softest of moans from the brunette. One of Brittany's hands fell into the temptation of Santana's exaggerated breaths, and moved under Santana's bra, grasping at the warm flesh. Santana arched into her, feeling her nipple tighten against Brittany's palm.
"God, Britt—"
"I think," Brittany whispered, her other hand traveling down the warm body to graze over a hip, then her thigh, letting her fingers tease along the outer seam of Santana's sweatpants on the way towards her knee, then crossing over to the inner seam on the way back up. A moment ago Santana would have been embarrassed by the way her knees parted, welcoming, urging, needing the blonde's hand to continue along their path. Now, Santana's ability to make sense of things like pride and self-control were completely forgotten.
All she wanted was Brittany.
"That you are," Brittany's voice kept her grounded, "so beautiful."
Santana whimpered when Brittany's fingers grazed over the between of her legs and right on by to the more neutral territory of her stomach. Santana cursed her teasing as much as she praised the lips against her neck, the fingers playing with her nipples. By this time her eyes were shut tightly, her chest fluttering for breath. Then, Brittany's hand started a quest of it's own.
Traveling lower, and lower, into more dangerous territory, Brittany's fingers braved the elastic ban of Santana's sweatpants and even dared to tread under the fabric of the brunette's underwear. The next moan that fell from Santana's parted and panting lips was much louder. The warm heat, wet and wanting, gave Brittany a surge of desire, loving the effect she could have on this woman, someone she loved. She was tender, carefully conscious of Santana's reposes, using things that she already knew the woman liked and reacting to the way she was moving against her fingers now.
When Brittany circled lightly, gently, around that bundle of nerves, Santana moaned deep in her chest. The noise reverberated into Brittany's front and the blonde felt so close to her, feeling every breath, every shudder. The friction she was offering wasn't enough for Santana. The brunette threw her head back over Brittany's shoulder, letting the last of her control go. Her hips, still nestled between Brittany's legs, started rocking into the blonde's hand.
"Britt, please..."
Brittany knew it wasn't time to tease anymore, she rubbed firmer, faster. The thumb of her other hand skimming over Santana's nipple, teeth sinking into the crook of her neck.
"Fuck—"
Santana, who might have even forgotten that she was holding the game controller, held on tightly, as if it was the only thing keeping her from losing it. Her body quaked under Brittany's fingers, hips still rocking, her breath getting away from her. She nearly lost it when Brittany's hips started moving along with hers. Finally throwing the controller to the side, Santana buried one of her hands in Brittany's hair, the other working its way behind her back, between them, into the soft cotton of Brittany's pajama pants and—
"Oh, jeez," Brittany gasped into Santana's hair. The muscles in her abdomen tensing, flush along Santana's lower back.
Santana, having a formidable head start, was already teetering on the edge when Brittany used her long arms to reach lower and slip inside her lover. Santana lost track of the words that were escaping her, half of them might have been in Spanish and Santana wouldn't have realized, all she knew was Brittany's body moving with hers, the short breaths washing over her ear, the way the blonde's thigh's were quaking next to her own.
She came, pushing her heels against the coffee table to press herself deeper into Brittany, with a pitched, shuddering, moan. She took a few, gasping breaths before turning in Brittany's lap, hands still in each others pants and hearts still going a mile a minute. Santana reset herself on Brittany's lap, this time straddling her, not bothering to wait until she was completely settled to kiss her girlfriend.
Brittany's head was spinning and she wasn't complaining in the slightest. Santana's hand, the one that wasn't preoccupied between Brittany's legs, snaked behind her neck to pull her deeper into the kiss. Brittany wrapped her arms around Santana's waist and pulled her as close as she could without impairing Santana's ability to move her hand.
She could feel herself tightening around Santana's fingers, her toes curling, thighs trembling. She pulled away from Santana's kiss, burying her face in the brunette's chest as she gasped, "San—"
Santana held her close, riding her down gently with soft kisses along her hairline, "I love you so much, Brittany."
Instead of replying, Brittany tightened her grip around the woman's waist until she caught up with her body, her breathing evened out, and she could reply with a tangible thought, "So much, San, so much."
They stayed like that for a few minutes, Brittany listening to Santana's heart while Santana ran her hands through Brittany's hair.
"Stay with me tonight," Santana spoke quietly into her hair, "I—I need you with me."
Brittany looked up, surprised and concerned at the waiver in the brunette's voice, "San?"
"I—" Santana glanced away, struggling with something on the tip of her tongue. Brittany rubbed calming circles in her back as she gathered her words, "Brittany, I'm really serious about you, you know that right?"
Brittany knew Santana would want her to take a moment to consider her words before she said, "I do, I know that."
"You mean so much to me," Santana cupped her face, her eyes shifting between Brittany's, "you know that, right?"
"I do," Brittany slipped her arms up Santana's shoulders and pulled her down so that they could kiss softly, "I know that."
Santana pressed another kiss to Brittany's forehead, lingering there as Brittany continued.
"I feel the same way," Brittany told her, "I'm in love with you, Santana."
She felt Santana smile against her forehead, "So in love."