If she didn't know that it was because of Brittany's published feature, and the magazine venders staked outside the building were a blatant reminder to that fact, Santana would have thought she had grown two heads by the way people were looking at her.
She walked into the lobby of Clockwork and swore everyone in it froze just to take a gander.
There was something different about their eyes this time. She noticed it as she walked by, head up and shoulders back. They were looking at her with an odd sense of... awe. It reminded her of the way people looked at modern art. It could be way above their comprehension level, but they would still stare at it with that same thoughtful expression, hoping that everyone else thought they were intelligent enough to get it.
They could stare all they want, they'll never get it.
She continued past them and they parted in her wake.
Her maintenance hallway was a breath of fresh air, Santana had to put her hand on the wall to catch her breath and ground herself.
This was it, she had been exposed.
Santana straightened herself, pulling down the hem of her blazer, and swept her hair over her shoulder. She wasn't about to freak out, she was determined to handle this with all the poise that Brittany had credited her with. Come hell or high water, she was going to walk onto the floor and conduct herself with every bit of the expertise and professionalism that she usually did.
Her elevator made it to her floor and she entered the COG. That odd sensation happened again, namely everyone's heads turning towards her. She cursed herself for not showing up when the floor was clear for lunch. Santana even caught some of the guys holding the magazine, reading it at their desks as their friends stood around talking about usual things.
Or her.
"Did you know she studied with Holly Holiday?"
"Yeah, the one that patented that new software for network security programs."
"I heard she made a killing by selling it to the government."
"I heard Lopez was her teacher's aid when she was developing it."
"You think she got in the mix?"
"What, are you kidding me? Have you ever seen her back down from an opportunity? Remember when she convinced Clockwork to donate equipment for wireless networks and computers to high schools? Kids were taking typing lessons and getting familiar with our products in grade school so when they finally wanted their own laptops, guess what brand they wanted? Our sales in those areas nearly doubled, I read the marketing report."
"No shit?"
Santana ducked into her office before the ones that missed her arrival turned around.
"Oh, you decided to show yourself?" Kurt greeted her from the couch, a smile on his face. A copy of The Lead was resting on the cushion next to him.
"Yeah," she nodded, eying the magazine, "How'd you like Britt's article? The girl can sure write."
"I loved it, you can expect it to be on your display by the end of the day," he joked, waving to the bookshelf with her other cover shots.
"Take the rest down," she set her computer bag down and started getting ready to play catch up. "I don't want those up anymore."
He made a note of her serious tone and nodded, "I'll take care of it."
"Thanks."
"Also, Mike has been checking in every half hour to see if you've come in yet," he told her, missing the way her shoulders tensed at the news, "I think he's freaking out about the exhibition stuff."
"Hm," Santana sat at her desk and started checking her email.
"He's been hold up in the lab downstairs after the morning's COG," he continued, "you should probably go find him and put his mind at ease."
"I'll have to do that," Santana mumbled, not looking forward to it at all.
She had promised Santana that she would stop into the office sometime today, which was really as soon as she went home to feed Lord Tubbington, shower, and change. The lobby of Clockwork was as active as ever, she recognized a few people and waved hello as they greeted her. Some of them even told her how much they enjoyed reading the article this morning. She took their compliments gracefully, making sure they knew that Santana was the one that did the real work. She loved the subtle reverence they held in their eyes when she brought up the Head of IT, she hoped Santana was seeing the same thing.
Brittany was just about to pass the main reception desk, pondering if she should take the main elevators or Santana's for nostalgia's sake, when a security guard stepped in front of her.
"Miss Pierce?"
"Um," she felt her stomach tighten. Was Jesse St. James up to no good again? Was Santana alright? "Yeah, that's me."
He looked a little regretful, "I've been asked to escort you to the executive suite upon arrival, ma'am."
"For what?" Brittany started shifting towards his left, as if she just might make a break for the service elevators, "Who wants to talk to me?"
He took a step to match hers, blocking her escape and letting her know that he was determined to get her to the place she needs to go. "Ma'am, I'm only doing what I've been told, please—"
"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me who you're taking me to," Brittany's eyes narrowed, she knew the rules, he couldn't put a hand on her. She could turn around and walk out of the building then call Santana. Santana would know what to do.
"Ma'am, I don't know who want's to talk to you," he admitted, "only where they want to talk to you if you should show up in the building."
"I want to speak to Santana Lopez, I'm not going anywhere in this building without her," she told him sternly. She was already pulling out her phone. "Either take me to her or get out of my face."
"Ma'am, I've been instructed to not let you have any contact with Miss Lopez or Miss Fabray."
"You're kidding me, right?" Brittany scoffed as she ignored his request, thumb working across the screen of her phone until a strong hand wrapped around hers, phone and all, keeping her from hitting the call button. "Get off of—"
Brittany's anger transformed into a betrayed confusion, she recognized this man, wasn't he someone that Santana had some sort of friendly agreement with?
"Puckerman?"
He let go of her hand, holding them up in a nonthreatening gesture, "Please don't call Lopez, Brittany, please."
"What's all this about?" her thumb hovered over the call button, ready if she didn't like his answer.
"Look," he waved off the security guard that had stopped her first, "someone wants to talk to you about the article you wrote. It has nothing to do with the shit St. James pulled last week."
"You knew about that and you didn't tell anyone?" she felt even more betrayed and a little angry. Her and Rachel had been walking into Jesse St. James' trap and if she hadn't of had the foresight to use the service elevator it would have worked.
"I didn't know until after the fact," Puckerman looked just as angry as she did and it made her believe him, "that dick went to my guys and made it worth their while, trust me, they're not around anymore."
"So," she glanced around as if Jesse St. James would be lurking in the shadows, "who what's to talk to me if it's not St. James?"
She had an idea about who wanted to talk to her. She just didn't think it would happen like this. Brittany was cursing herself, she was such an impulsive idiot, what had she done now? What kind of crap did she cause this time?
"Someone much more important," he took a step towards the elevators. "You gotta trust me, I'm not trying to screw you or Lopez over. She has enough people trying to do that."
"I would still rather have Santana with me," Brittany admitted, hesitating for a moment longer before she fell into step with him. She needed to face this, she needed to be brave, for Santana. "You're not going to tell me what this is about?"
"I don't know what it's about," he told her honestly, "all I know is that there's a lot of parking spots that are going to be missing their reserved for plaques by the end of the day."
Brittany stopped dead in her tracks, causing a small traffic jam as they entered the elevator, "She's getting fired?"
"What? No!" he assured her, escorting her into the maintenance hallway. She wasn't sure if they were taking that route for her comfort, or for the privacy it offered so he could say, "A bunch of crazy crap went down this morning, half the board of directors were dismissed before lunch, all the people up in corporate have gone crazy."
That didn't make Brittany feel any better. She didn't want anyone to get fired, even if they were part of the corporate system that had been making Santana's life a living hell. The ride in the elevator was long and tense. Brittany's mind was going a mile a minute trying to anticipate what was about to happen. They hit their floor, one of the highest in the building. The doors opened and Puckerman stepped out, but Brittany stayed put.
"What's wrong?" he asked as a courtesy, he knew what was wrong.
She was nervous, "I want Santana with me."
"She can't be with you, she's not supposed to know you're here," he put his hand on the doorframe to keep the doors from closing. "But I got the feeling that this is going to help her out. You want to help her right?"
Of course she wanted to help her. That had been her mission from the beginning of this whole thing.
Brittany took a steadying breath and shook her hands at her sides. If she was going to do this she was going to do it with as much grace as she could muster. If Santana could walk into a convention hall and face all of the people that thought she was just a model, she could face this. She had caused this problem all on her own after all.
Finally, she stepped out from the elevator and asked, "Can I just text her to let her know I'm going to be late? I promised that I would meet her."
His eyes softened and he tried to hide a smile, "Yeah, sure."
Brittany was quick about it, "San, I got caught up doing some last minute stuff about the feature. I'll call you when I'm done, hopefully it won't take long. I love you, so much."
She slipped her phone back into her purse and nodded to Puckerman, "I'm ready."
Santana frowned at the text message in her inbox. Truth be told, she had been glancing at the clock periodically for the last half an hour. Brittany hadn't said she would be right over, but she had implied it.
Santana sent of a quick, "I love you too, take your time, don't worry about it."
Since a distracting visit from Brittany wasn't in the foreseeable future, Santana decided that it was time to face Mike. She gathered up her tablet and told Kurt she would be in the lab. She couldn't say that her posture was very welcoming when she walked in with a swift stride and a cold look in her eyes. She didn't even glance his way, she just walked right on by and sat at her usual station across from him. He tried to say something about reading that article and she cut him off with a question about his progress on work.
He took the hint and they fell into stiff silence.
She wasn't very proud of herself for giving him one hell of a cold shoulder, but her defensive nature was on high alert and for all she knew he could turn into another Artie. She would hate it that happened. A part of her knew that treating him like this wasn't going to keep that from happening, and she wished she had better people skills. She wished she was better at letting people in, let people care about her.
Twenty minutes later, he was staring at her.
She could feel it. Even across a table, with every ounce of focus directed to the computer in front of her, she could feel it. She refused to look up from her work, refused to have this conversation, refused to let him dredge up all the shit Brittany was trying to get her to put to rest.
But... what was he thinking about?
What kind of judgment was he condemning on her?
Her hands froze over the keyboard as her eyes lifted to his, Mike had the decency to look away. It didn't last long before he was looking right back at her, opening his mouth to say something. Again, Santana didn't have the courtesy to let him speak.
"You need to stop staring at me."
"I'm trying to work up the courage to talk to you," he said quietly, and there was a gentle quality in his voice that should have been comforting, but Santana's short temper took offense to how he wanted to be kind to her.
She wasn't a charity case, she didn't need his pity.
"If it's about anything other than work," she told him shortly, her eyes daring him to keep this up, "I don't want to hear it."
"Don't shut me out, San—"
"Don't presume to think that just because I kept myself in check for Tina's sake it means that I'm over this," Santana's anger was obvious in her eyes.
"I didn't mean to—"
"Oh," Santana picked up a pen, holding it tightly in her fist, and tilting the point threateningly in his direction, "so you didn't mean to stand in her kitchen and listen to our conversation like a compete creeper, you didn't fucking mean for that to happen."
"I was surprised that you had shown up," Mike's eyes fell to his desk, "and by the time I got over trying to figure out if you were going to be mad that I took one of your friends out on a date, you guys were already talking about all that... stuff. I didn't know what to do, I panicked."
Santana held the pen even tighter.
She didn't want to have this conversation. She didn't want to have to explain herself to him, go back to that hurtful place and try to make him see that it wasn't her fault, she had been the victim. A larger part of her wanted to have this conversation, just so she could do all of those things, and make sure that he knew all of that. She wanted him to understand because she didn't want him to think any less of her, and that might happen if he knew she was a victim.
"I'm so pissed at you," Santana held his eyes with a dark smoldering stare, "because you were one of the five people in this company I never had to worry about judging me. You've always been really cool about shit like that, Mike. Now all of that is shit because all I can think about when I look at you is what you overheard, and what you might be thinking about me."
"I'm not thinking any less of you—"
"Don't give me that feel good lovey shit," Santana took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. "People don't—you can't hear about something like that and not look at me differently."
"Differently, yeah," he said quietly, "you know how many times I've seen you and Abrams go at it at conventions? How many times I've watch him kick you below the belt and every single time you find it in yourself to walk away? I thought you were just classy, but now..."
She swallowed harshly, keeping her eyes pinched closed and hidden behind her hand.
"Santana, you're... man, I thought I looked up to you before, now it's like..."
"How much did Tina tell you?" she asked from a dry throat.
"Enough to know that if I was in your shoes I wouldn't have been able to walk away when Abrams talks trash," Mike admitted. "I'm not even sure I'm going to be able to do it if I hear it again."
Santana glanced up to the ceiling, blinking a few times to keep her eyes dry. The weight on her chest since she had left Tina's house lifted in a great sigh. She dropped her pen next to her keyboard and let a breath out slowly through her nose, "While I appreciate the sentiment, I can handle Abrams myself."
"I know," he raised his hands in an accepting gesture, he knew she didn't need his help, she had been handling Artie for a while, "but if you ever need any backup..."
"If I ever need someone to hold my earrings before I beat the shit out of a jerk in a wheelchair, you'll be the one hand them off to," she laughed shortly, shaking her head at the ridiculous image in her head.
"Can we," he tapped on a few of his keys nervously, "not let this be a big deal?"
"I would like that," Santana nodded, relieved.
A lightheartedness was coming back into her eyes and Mike smiled, glad that the tension was fading. He decided to drop the subject and made an easy transition to the Brittany's article. He wanted to talk about some of the things she had done and people she had studied with, but all she wanted to talk about was how great Brittany's writing was. Eventually they fell back into their work until Santana had to ask the question on her mind.
"Are you going to see her again?"
"Tina?" Mike looked up from his work with a slightly cautious expression.
Santana didn't make a comment because the answer was obvious and Mike looked embarrassed.
"Would that…" he rubbed the back of his neck, "would that be a problem?"
"Only if you don't treat her right," Santana eyed him and he nodded under her scrutiny. "I've already... told her that I approve."
He seemed to be pleased at that comment, and ducked his head to try and hide his smile, "I really appreciate that, I know she was really worried that you would... flip out or whatever."
Santana didn't blame Tina for worrying at all.
"You're a good man, Mike," Santana told him sincerely and he knew it was a big deal.
He hesitated for a moment before asking, "So… are you and Brittany…?"
He trailed off and the question hung in the air.
"That's a really inappropriate question."
They never really did talk about their personal lives, and after what happened at Tina's place he had worried that she would shut him out entirely. Mike looked up, worried that he had crossed the line again, but Santana's serious tone didn't match the small smirk on her face. She had been joking, playing with him. Mike was glad that at least some things were back to normal.
"And yes," she turned back to her work, "we are."
"She's a sweet girl," Mike followed her lead and turned back to his computer, "it was really nice working with her while she was here."
"It was," Santana sighed again, missing the woman that should be sitting next to her with a notebook and twenty questions. "It was nice."
Brittany was escorted into an office that made Santana's look like a broom closet. She sat in one of the two chairs across from the larger than necessary desk. Really, no one could ever need that much desk space, but the wood was dark and rich and the chair behind it was high-backed and kind of dramatic and it seemed to fit the large space of the office well enough.
Whoever was supposed to be speaking with her wasn't available yet so she waited, drumming her fingers on her thighs and wondering how she got herself into these messes. It had seemed like such a great idea at the time.
She wanted to pull out her phone and read Santana's reply, but she didn't want to get caught on her phone. If there was any risk of angering this person with the power to fire Santana, she wouldn't take it.
When the large doors opened Brittany stood quickly, trying her best to be confident, she knew it wasn't quite working out. Barring the mild streaks of gray littered into her short blonde hair, the woman striding in was identical to the photos Brittany came across in her research on Clockwork. This woman was much more important, and much more powerful, than Jesse St. James.
After making it to Brittany's chair, she held out her hand, "Brittany Pierce, it's nice to meet you."
"Likewise, Mrs. Sylvester," Brittany matched her firm handshake with a confidence she didn't know she had. There was something in the woman's eyes that was putting her at ease.
"Now, sit down, we have a lot to talk about," she gestured to the seat and made her own way around her desk. She sat in the large chair and donned a pair of rectangle framed glasses as she fussed around with the papers on her desk. "I'm not going to insult your intelligence, you know who I am."
"I do," Brittany nodded, crossing her legs to be comfortable and to look at ease, like she wasn't sitting in front of the largest share holder, owner, and CEO of Clockwork Technologies.
"And you know why you're here," she glanced up from the papers to peer at Brittany from over her glasses.
"I have an idea."
"You have an idea," she repeated and Brittany couldn't quite interpret her tone. "You have an idea and I have a question."
Brittany watched the woman opened a drawer and take out a priority envelope with her own handwriting on it.
"Did your publication send me this copy of your article on Miss Lopez?"
"No, I was the one that sent it to you," Brittany said it before she could hesitate.
"Why would you send me a copy of this?" she seemed genuinely curious if not a little skeptical of Brittany's motives.
In retrospect, Brittany probably should have thought really hard about the answer to that question before she had sent it. She answered honestly, "I thought you should know how great Miss Lopez is at her job."
"You think I don't know that?"
"If you do know that," Brittany licked her lips, unsure, "then I'm not sure why you're letting this company make her out to be a fool."
She didn't take the offense that Brittany had expected, instead, sitting back in her chair and crossing her legs to match Brittany's, "You'll need to explain that idea to me Miss Pierce. I picked up a hint of the same sentiment in your article."
"This company has made a joke of that woman," Brittany wasn't sure if this was what she wanted to hear but she was going to say it anyway. "You've objectified her, cut her down; let a chauvinistic pig degrade her, and allow—even promote, public opinion to see her as nothing more than an marketing ploy."
The woman's face didn't give anything away so Brittany continued.
"I've been working with the IT Department for last three months. I've spent three months shadowing Santana Lopez. I've been to the conventions and I've seen people brush her off like she's an actress talking off a script. I've been to the photo shoots and seen how degraded she feels after dressing up to fit an image she doesn't agree with. I've been in this company and overheard the lewd comments, I've seen the looks people give her, and I've witnessed how readily the people in marketing are willing to manipulate her for their own needs, and somehow, despite all of that," Brittany's hand cut exasperatedly through the air, a little agitation at Santana's situation seeping past her professional posture. "After hours in her computer labs, hours at the gym to be camera read, and hours spent prepping for presentations she hates, she still runs that department flawlessly."
Brittany knew she was crossing a line when she said, "And without an ounce of gratitude from you people. Sometimes I still can't understand how she could still want to be a part of this company, let alone work as hard as she does for it."
She should have felt a little embarrassed after she finished her rant, but all of that needed to be said, and to someone with the power to change it. This is why she had sent Sylvester the article, to get her to notice it. Notice Santana and her situation.
"You're telling me that doesn't like being in the spotlight."
It wasn't a question, it was an observation. The woman tapped her fingers on the desk and looked as if she had never considered the possibility before.
"She's never wanted it," Brittany confirmed. She wished she knew what was going on in the woman's head. Did she bring Brittany here to clear that up? And now that she knew the truth, what would she do about it?
Sylvester stood from her desk, not looking at Brittany as she moved towards the large expanse of windows. She stood next to the wall of glass, letting her hands fall into the pockets of her slacks and sighed.
"Years ago, around the time Lopez was initially hired… my husband, the original owner of this company, well, he died," Sue Sylvester started talking quietly. "Understandably, I went into a period of grief that rivaled the destructive force of a black hole. Disgracefully, it kept me from doing my duties as the inherited owner of this company. I appointed my control to a board of directors that were supposed to keep things in check until I returned. Until this year I honestly hadn't had the motivation to."
Brittany had known that part of her story. She discovered it when she was trying to figure out how the owner of this company was a woman, and she's just been letting Santana be objectified the entire time.
"Sure, I would check in every once in a while, I would read the reports, listen to the progress briefs, but it was just a depressing reminder of my husband's death," she looked around and Brittany realized that this was her late husband's office. "The board of directors and executives that took charge in my absence were… disgusting businessmen that ruined my husband's legacy. Our stocks plummeted and so many strong leaders defected to Orbit or other companies."
She gave a short laugh, "That probably gave Lopez the opportunity to move up so quickly, but opportunistic young talents aside; it made me violently ill to even look our logo. I wanted nothing to do with this place. I went from being hands off to being completely out of the picture and things just got worse."
"Why did you..." Brittany started quietly, "Why did you come back? And why are firing everyone?"
"Trimming the fat, Miss Pierce," she glanced over her shoulder, a smirk on her face. "This place has gotten pretty hefty since I've been gone. I can't have that, the cellulite is another thing that makes me violently ill, I wont tolerate it anywhere near me."
She wanted to take back her company and Brittany was impressed, she hoped that every one of the people getting dismissed was someone responsible for making this company the toxic work environment that it was.
"About six months ago," Sylvester continued more seriously, "an old friend of mine emailed me, congratulating me on beating Orbit in latest Fortune 500 listing. They were congratulating me as if I had something to do with it, as if I was a part of that. I wasn't. I was, however, curious about who was responsible for such a thing."
Brittany wanted to smile, because she knew who she would blame for it.
"Santana Lopez was the name I kept running into; she who seemingly turned back time and restored Clockwork to a shadow of it's former glory," she snorted, amused with herself.
In a blink the amusement was gone and she was quiet for a moment before continuing in a softer voice, "You think I'm a horrible person for letting her be used as an icon for this company, but can you blame me for not realizing that she's the one in the millions of women who would jump at the chance to be a household name?"
She truly didn't understand.
"Thousands of women would kill to be used as a pretty face. Hundreds would pretend to be rocket scientists if it meant they could be on the number of magazine covers that she's been plastered all over. We live in the age of Snookis and Lohans and who the hell doesn't want to be famous?"
Brittany had to admit, plenty of woman wanted that chance, just not Santana.
"So this," she gestured to Brittany like she was the personification of Santana's ideals, "reading this, and realizing that the savior of my company has been hating it the entire time… I thought we were giving her every woman's dream; the job, the glitz, the glam, but… she's been in a living hell," she turned back to the window, shaking her head, solemly disappointed in herself for allowing this to happen.
"She loves her work," Brittany told her, "if it means anything, she loves the work she does here. She has such a insane amount of pride for it too."
If it meant anything, Sylvester didn't let is show, she just kept watching the skyline.
"The real reason that I've asked you here is because I want to know who's responsible for this," she looked Brittany square in the eye. "I know you're close enough to Lopez that you know the real story, the story you couldn't publish for politics sake. I'm not stupid, there's more to this than meets the eye."
Brittany dropped her eyes and gave herself away.
"You have the opportunity to tell me who is the one that's caused all of this, I've fired enough people today that no one will think twice about me adding a few more names to the list."
Brittany licked her lips again, "That's the thing… she wouldn't have let it happen if she wasn't… forced into it."
Sylvester's eyebrows quirked, "She's being blackmailed?"
Brittany nodded to confirm the assumption.
She felt conflicted, knowing Santana would have reservations about drawing attention to the deal she had cut with Jesse St. James. Santana only had the upper hand because Jesse had something to lose while he was working here, if Sylvester fired him it might give Jesse an excuse to release what he had on Santana.
"That's a difficult situation," she mused, glancing out the window again, "you'll have to trust me to handle it."
Brittany wrung her hands together, nervous and tempted, "I…"
"Miss Pierce, give me this chance, to do right by the only woman that's been looking out for this company, even when she had absolutely no reason to."
"I have... another version of the feature," she hoped that this wouldn't come back hurt them, she was only trying to help, "one with everything, it's the real story. I could email it to you."
"You do that," she turned from the window and made it back to her desk, rummaging around for a business card with her email address on it so she could give it to the journalist. "And of course, you realize that this is to stay between us. I know you're close to Lopez and Miss Fabray from the PR Department."
Brittany wasn't sure how much her blush gave away, but if she noticed, Mrs. Sylvester didn't comment.
"I have my eye on them both," she continued, "and the people they work with, although, that Mike Chang is never endorsing this company with a photo shoot again; people have been asking if we've been bought out by China. I think it's about time for our IT developers to focus on the computers, and not the cameras."
Clockwork was in for a tune up.
When she heard the door open, before she even looked up, before she even heard her say, "There you are."
Santana knew it was Brittany.
She could feel it in the air, the way the hair on the back of her neck stood on end, the way her foot shifted from her stool to the ground so she would be ready to stand up and return the hug that she knew was coming. Brittany's eyes skated to Mike, in greeting and to gauge if Santana minded his presence before she got too close.
She was always so conscious of Santana's boundaries, her workplace OCD. It was a courtesy that melted Santana's heart and certainly earned Brittany a little affection. She could tell the blonde was surprised when she stood fully and opened her arms, but there wasn't a moment of hesitation before she stepped into them. Santana held her close, because a few hours really was too long.
Lowly, and so Mike couldn't hear she whispered, "I missed you."
Brittany chuckled into her hair, silently agreeing, "How's work been?"
"Ugh," Santana pulled away, just enough to see Brittany's face, happy to lean against the desk in this woman's arms. This was a step in the right direction; being able to be a couple in front her coworkers, and letting Mike know that he was a trusted person in her life. "I have so many loose ends running around it's not even funny."
"You'll be able to tie them up," after making sure Mike couldn't see her hand, Brittany rubbed her thumb along the waist of Santana's skirt, "you always do."
Santana's lips quirked into a smile at the confidence in Brittany's voice. She had so much unconditional confidence in Santana's capabilities that it was more than flattering. She made Santana feel like she could take on anything, like all the problems around her were easy enough to work out, and she didn't have to worry.
"In cute little bows, too," Brittany teased, her eyes on the smiling lips below her.
"Whatever," Santana scoffed, refusing to turn her ability to solve problems and tie up loose ends into some sort of metaphor about ribbons and bows.
Brittany just laughed at her and pinched her side affectionately, "What are we doing tonight?"
It was assumed that they would be spending it together and Santana loved it.
"I want to make you dinner," Santana bit her lip, "then maybe we could just watch a movie or something, hang out, relax. You've worked so hard on this feature, Britt, let me pay you back a little."
"You know you don't have to," Brittany said softly, in a voice that was entirely too intimate and if Mike hadn't gotten the idea by now, Brittany would suggest a trip to the optometrist. She had the feeling he was taking a hint by the way he was packing his things.
"But I would love to," Santana's eyes kept shifting from Brittany's eyes to her lips and Brittany wasn't sure how much longer she could stand so close to her without kissing the brunette.
"Then it's a plan," Brittany wouldn't deny Santana the chance to do something for her, she knew the woman loved the feeling. "How much longer are you going to be here?"
"I'll see you two later," Mike threw over his shoulder as he headed towards the door.
"Not much," Santana admitted now that Mike's back was turned and . Her hand, brave from admitting their relationship to Mike, slipped behind the blonde's neck, and Brittany followed her lead, closing her eyes and leaning down to meet Santana's lips.
Brittany had to grip the desk to steady herself, tightening her hold on Santana's waist tightening. This was no peck, or any sort of chaste smooch. It made her wobble in her heels and her head spin. When Santana released Brittany's bottom lip from between hers and pulled away she smiled at the half-lidded eyes and soft smile on the blonde face.
"Those bows can wait until tomorrow."