AN: You all might have noticed that the last few updates have been at later and later intervals, I truly apologize for that. It's a mix of time management and wanting to put all of the puzzle pieces together in the right order.
I'm estimating 4-6 chapters left, depending on my blocking.
Santana flipped the page to the newspaper on her kitchen table. She was taking a little more time than usual this morning, present company probably had more to do with that then her real schedule. Instead of the office, her first stop this morning was the convention arena to help the boys set up for the exhibition, so she had the time to enjoy her breakfast... and Brittany.
The blonde was sitting beside her, and not nearly as interested in the morning paper as she was. Absently, Santana felt Brittany take her hand. She gave her girlfriend a loving squeeze, her thumb running over Brittany's knuckles softly. It wasn't long before Brittany was moving their hands, rearranging them so that their thumbs were skyward and their fingers were gripping each others. Santana felt the familiar taps of Brittany's thumb on either side of her own.
While her mind stayed focused on the newspaper in front of her, Santana moved her thumb along with Brittany's in tandem, accepting her thumb-war challenge. Her attempts to beat Brittany were absentminded at best, she was more involved in tracking stocks and loving the feeling of Brittany's hand in hers. Their thumbs worked against each other and for the third time in a row, Brittany pinned Santana's thumb to their fingers.
"You're letting me win," Brittany chuckled next to her, knowing that Santana wasn't even paying attention.
"No," Santana's thumb squirmed under Brittany's playfully, "I just like it better when you're on top."
The comment was so unexpected that Brittany blushed, "That sounds mighty submissive of you, Santana."
"Didn't you hear?" the corner of Santana's lip quirked up, "I'm more easily controlled by a woman."
"You're a dork," Brittany kissed her knuckles and stood, taking hers and Santana's plates to the sink. "What are you up to at work today?"
"We're doing set up of the exhibition site this morning," Santana folded her paper because she really needed to start getting ready for work. "Then I have a few bows to tie at the office. How about you?"
"Rachel has a couple different projects she wants me to look at," Brittany smiled as she walked back to the table from the sink, "for my next article."
"That's cool," Santana's eyebrows quirked up, interested, "I hope you find something you like."
"Me too," Brittany brushed a strand of dark hair behind Santana's ear, "and maybe I can convince her that I have better things to do this morning. I love watching you guys set up."
"I wish you could," Santana wrapped her arms around Brittany's waist, pulling her closer to her chair, "but I don't want Rachel thinking that you're not serious about you new journalist gig."
"She really doesn't expect me to focus on anything until after your big expo is over," Brittany leaned down and kissed the top of her head. "That's why she hasn't given me another assignment already, so don't worry about it."
Santana chewed on her bottom lips for a second, "That's nice of her."
"She's a nice person," Brittany looked down at Santana and caught her eyes, Santana nodded in a way that said, okay you're right.
"I can't wait for this thing to be over," Santana stood up, keeping her arms around the blonde, "so I can start focusing on things that matter... like you."
"You already do focus on me," Brittany seemed a little confused.
"Yeah, but," Santana's eyes fell and she could feel her cheeks warm, "we spend a lot of time here. I don't know, something Quinn said yesterday made me think that..."
Santana didn't really know how to say it, but Brittany understood.
"Aww," Brittany cooed, "you're cute."
Santana frowned, because she was trying to be serious, not cute.
"San, we spend a lot of time here," she kissed her softly, smiling at the coffee smell, "focusing on each other, that's all I need."
"What you need sounds like settling to me. I'm asking about what you want, Britt. We could go out more," Santana shrugged as Brittany threw her arms her shoulders, "if you wanted."
Brittany considered her words, "Do you think that's what I want?"
All she wanted was for Santana to feel comfortable, especially with the biggest day of her year coming up. She didn't want Santana worrying about planning some big date night when she already had so much to think about.
Santana shrugged again, her posture showing her indecision, "That's why I'm asking."
"How about this," Brittany kissed her cheek, "next time I want to go out, I'll ask you out. Until then, we'll be couch potatoes and get fat on how sweet our love is."
Santana snorted, "Is this one of those crazy girlfriend things, where it's really just a big trap? You tell me that, then wait to see if I ask you anyway, because it's really all about how you want me to want to ask you out?"
Brittany's eyes tilted to the ceiling, she was either considering if this was a similar situation or trying to figure out what Santana's question meant because she was kind of rambling, "Um, no I don't think that this is one of those things."
"You're sure?"
"Pretty sure," she smirked, catching onto the smile in Santana's voice. Brittany realized that the woman had been kidding the whole time.
"Alright," Santana sighed playfully, "I'll just have to trust you."
"Please do," Brittany kissed her again, "and not just about this. I'm sending that stuff to Sue Sylvester as soon as I get into the office. I have a really good feeling about this, but I want to give you one last chance to change your mind."
The gentle concern in Brittany's voice warmed Santana's heart. Brittany really cared for Santana's answer and she knew that Brittany would call it off in a heartbeat if that was what Santana wanted. There was no pressure, just her opinion, and an option.
"Before you do, I want to know one thing," Santana glanced away, a little embarrassed. "What's giving you this good feeling? Like, what about this woman makes you think that she can be trusted?"
Brittany traced a small design into Santana's tee shirt as she thought about it, "There was something in her eyes, she looked like she was on a mission to put her company right again. She understands that you're an asset to her, Santana. I think she's going to try to honor that."
Santana nodded, satisfied with that answer, "You can send her the stuff, Britt."
"I will," Brittany's finger traced up Santana's neck and slipped around to the back. Easily, she was able to draw Santana into a comforting kiss, promising that even if everything didn't work out exactly how she hoped, she would still be here. She pulled away and gave Santana a playful look, trying to lighten the stressful burden on her shoulders, "Besides, she's blonde, and I know you have a thing for blondes. So it's all kinda fits."
Santana stood in the center of an impressively sized stage. It was the main focal point to the convention hall and even if the arena was had a handful of people scattered around it, and none of them were even looking at her, it still made her tense. The muscles in her shoulders were tight, her jaw set harshly, one hand gripping her elbow firmly as she pressed the knuckles of her other hand to her pursed lips. She was trying to picture it, presenting here with a full stadium, with everyone watching.
This was her dilemma.
Clockwork's showing, and her presentations, were to be given here on the main stage, instead of the smaller personal stage that they normally set up. She couldn't have her own network, she wouldn't be just a small demonstration on the floor.
No, she was going to be a scheduled, showcased, exhibition event.
She wanted to be proud that she was getting this opportunity, that they were affording her this compliment by requesting her work on the main stage. She knew Orbit wasn't getting such a featured presentation. Clockwork really was on top, and she should be proud, because she helped get it there.
There was only one problem; Santana was terrified.
She looked around the vast hall, imagining the thousands of people that were estimated to appear throughout the event, then she turned on her heel and ran her eyes over the large—daunting—projection screen behind her. For the moment it was blank.
For the moment it was innocent.
"Santana?"
Santana flinched out of her thoughts, her eyes searching out whoever said her name.
"San?"
She found Brittany standing near a stack of speakers that had yet to be assembled. Santana felt the scowl on her face disappear instantly, being replaced with a small, but genuine, smile. She took her fingers from her lips and twisted her hand at the wrist, sending the blonde a tiny wave, "Brittany, what are you doing here?"
"I'm on my lunch," Brittany explained, moving closer, her eyes were smiling more than her lips.
Santana had started to recognize the expression as Brittany trying to keep from looking too excited to see her, she only did it when they were in very public places, like on the stage of a convention hall. The set up crews were at lunch for the most part, and they were alone on the stage area, but Brittany was always careful.
"I called," she teased lightly, "but you had left your phone in your blazer by the Clockwork booth."
"I'm sorry," Santana's eye fell to her shoes, she had been pretty out of it since she got here. "I'm guessing Kurt answered it?"
"He did," Brittany looked out to the arena. "Wow, this is a pretty big stage. Are you going to be up here?"
"I know," Santana said quietly, "Clockwork's presentations are a featured exhibition event..."
"When did that happen?" Brittany was sure Santana would have mentioned it before now, "I thought you were going to be on your own stage, like always."
"After your article gave us so much publicity," Santana told her honestly, "they asked if we wanted to be showcased."
Brittany was so worried about Santana's stage fright that she missed hint of pride in her voice, "I am so sorry Santana, I never meant for this—"
"Britt," Santana touched her arm gently to quiet her, "never, ever apologize for that, for your success."
Brittany bit her lip, "I know you don't like talking in front of crowds..."
"I'll get over it," Santana brushed it off with a light laugh, the strained smile on her face didn't meet her eyes. "This is more than we could have ever hoped for. People really responded to your feature, Britt. I wanted everyone to start taking me seriously, and look," she waved to the convention hall around them, "this is as serious as it gets."
"I feel like..." Brittany took a small step closer, wringing the tips of her fingers together, "you're not happy."
Santana blinked at her, hoping her fear wasn't showing in her eyes.
"With all of this," Brittany repeated Santana's gesture to the arena.
"I am happy, logically, I'm happy. I realize that this is an incredibly awesome thing. Irrationally, I'm a nervous wreck," Santana chuckled deep in her chest and kept her eyes on the convention floor, "it's nothing to worry about, I'll be fine once all of this is over..."
"This is probably way worse because you're showing your project too," Brittany sighed, watching Santana's face carefully.
"Yeah, I mean," she glanced at Brittany, "what if it flops?"
Brittany was sure, "The way Sam and Mike talk about it, there's no way that's gonna happen. Plus, I've seen all the work you've put into it, Santana, and you don't waste your time with things that aren't awesome."
Santana had to smile, catching Brittany's joke, "You are excellent proof of my high standards."
Brittany felt a little better when she saw the break in Santana's bleak mood, but she knew there was more to it than that, "What's really on your mind? Why are you hanging out up here?"
"I'm just trying to get used to it," Santana shrugged, gripping her elbow again because she didn't have a pen on her, "you know, being up here. I'm trying to picture talking to all these people."
"Does it usually help your stage fright?" Brittany started walking around the stage, familiarizing herself the dimensions and angles. She could see a podium off to the right for the speaker, and the free space they had to walk between there and the projection board. There was also an elegant table to show a product.
"No, not really," Santana watched Brittany move as she stayed rooted to her spot near the podium, "I think I like torturing myself."
"What happened?" Brittany asked, looked back to her girlfriend with kind eyes.
Santana tensed so visibly that Brittany could see it from center stage.
"What makes you think something happened?" she asked quietly, even though there wasn't anyone in listening distance. "People have stage fright all the time. It's totally normal."
"It's just a feeling," Brittany thought back, "something Quinn said in passing, something Jesse said about why you left UCLA."
Santana was quiet for a while, looking from the floor, to the projection screen, to Brittany. Finally she said, "You know how when two people are getting to know each other, sometimes they'll ask, what was the most embarrassing moment of your life?"
Brittany closed the distance between them, so she could lean against the podium next to Santana. From the angle, no one on the floor can see her taking Santana's hand on top of the smooth dark wood, rubbing circles between Santana's knuckles, coaxing her into reliving the past.
"This is like, the most embarrassingly mortifying day of my entire life," Santana scoffed, trying to keep a indifferent attitude, "and it was Artie… again."
"At UCLA?"
"Yeah, after that night, I still wasn't even sure what happened—I woke up at home. Quinn told me I called her around three in the morning and she found my ass wondering around campus."
Brittany squeezed her hand lightly. Santana looked around the stage to avoid Brittany's eyes, and to equate it to the scene in her head.
"A few weeks later I was presenting my final project," Santana waved her hand in front of her, seeing the lecture hall and the students instead of the convention arena. "I was in front of everyone. My friends and the people that resented me for my grades, or that I was Holly's favorite..."
Brittany knew Artie Abrams was among that second group.
"I was talking, the projection board behind me," she spared the large white screen behind her a glance, "and suddenly... I knew something was wrong."
If Brittany's thumb wasn't calmly stroking the back of her hand, Santana might have stopped there and let the woman draw her own conclusions. It's not like she didn't know what was coming next.
"It was weird, the air in the room changed," Santana's voice became very quiet, her eyes dancing around like she could see it in front of her again, "it was like everyone stopped breathing at the same time. This one guy spewed soda everywhere, Holly was running from the back of the lecture hall, everyone had this look on their faces and I—and I turned around, and on the projector was that photo."
Her voice broke and Santana took in a deep breath to keep from crying again, she was so over crying about this shit. The pit of Brittany's stomach was cold, a pained ache in her chest.
"That's how I found out what happened that night, and that there was evidence," Santana grumbled roughly. "He was just sitting there, with this hateful look in his eyes, like, I deserved it or something."
"Why would he—"
"By that point Tina still hadn't broken up with me," Santana reasoned tightly, having given it some thought herself, "and I guess he decided... if she wasn't going to do it… he knew me well enough to know how to make me feel like I didn't deserve her."
"I hate him," Brittany wished she had done more than threaten him at the restaurant.
Santana let out a hollow laugh, shaking her head as she said, "You know he apologized for that one?"
"What?" Brittany couldn't believe it.
"Yeah, I know," Santana didn't seem to know what to make of it either, even after all these years, "he emailed me—I had already transferred to Berkeley; pathetic, I know—but he told me when he hacked into my damn computer and altered my presentation to add that fucking picture, he thought that I would have looked over it one last time before I presented it. He hadn't meant for... any of that to happen."
Brittany watched Santana face, dark eyes following her own fingertip around the polished wood, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. She had to ask, "Do you believe him?"
Santana sighed, looking to Brittany with a lost expression, "At the time, no. I was bitter and angry, and what he did was malicious and fucking unforgivable..."
"But?" Brittany prompted after she trailed off.
"I feel bad for him, Britt," Santana whispered it like she was ashamed of herself. "I've always felt like... he thought I was ruining his life, taking everything he wanted, but I never meant for that to happen and no matter how much he tries to get back at me, I always end up ahead... and it's really... sad."
The pale fingers that threaded through hers grounded her, and Santana felt the tightness around her chest ease. She let out a deep breath, rolling her shoulders, and looking up to the arena, blinking away the images from the past and turning to the only thing that truly mattered.
"Santana," Brittany started softly, when she knew she had her girlfriend's attention, "you know you're a good person, right?"
Santana had to laugh, breaking up more of the tension in her body, "I'm not really known for that, no."
"Well," Brittany held her eyes, the blue spheres gleaming with a level of affection that only Brittany had ever presented to her, "I'll just have to do a follow up piece and that will be the main focus; Santana Lopez, the most awesome and resilient woman, ever."
"Somehow, I don't think many people would be interested in that one," Santana chuckled, feeling better.
"I would be," Brittany said quietly.
"Then that's all that matters," Santana decided, smiling softly.
Brittany tied to keep the pleased grin off her face for the sake of the solemn moment, but she failed, and it only made Santana feel that much better.
"Is there um…" Santana dropped her eyes back to their hands, "anyway you can come? To the expo, I mean."
"Of course, San," Brittany chuckled. "Do you really think Rachel is going to let anyone else write about one of these things after that one guy almost ruined our contract?"
"You do know the business much better than any of those reporters," Santana smiled, and by business, she meant herself.
"Much better," Brittany agreed with a sly smile, she knew what Santana was implying.
They stood next to the podium for a moment, letting their fingers tangle and their thumbs wander over the groves in their palms. They forgot about the people working around them, the large screen behind them, all they knew was each other, and Brittany saw the tension in Santana's shoulder's ease.
"Hey," she said quietly, catching the pair of dark eyes next to her, "did you want me to come over tonight?"
Santana blushed, feeling a little too much like she was completely dependant on Brittany for a good nights sleep, "Would you?"
"Lord Tubbington actually asked me to make myself scarce tonight, so really, you would be doing me a favor," Brittany told her as an answer. "I think he's having a lady friend over."
Santana blinked at her, "Are you making fun of me for asking Quinn to not come home last night?"
"Yes," Brittany didn't even hesitate, the small smile on her face was both teasing and charming.
Santana laughed, and Brittany was so glad to hear it, "Well, if it's okay with him."
"Have you eaten yet?"
"No," Santana had forgotten about lunch, not that she had really felt like eating with all the nervous butterflies in her stomach.
"Wanna grab something with me?" Brittany asked, "that's kinda the whole reason I came over here."
"Sure, Britt," she gave Brittany's hand one last squeeze before moving away from the podium with the blonde, "I have to get back to the office anyway."
"I miss walking around Clockwork with you," Brittany sighed, "I'm always thinking about where you're at, or what you might be doing."
Santana flushed, brushing some hair behind her ear, "Missing you, B. That's all I ever do anymore."
"Good to know," Brittany sent her private smile, the I love you smile, and for a moment it made Santana forget every worry she's ever had.
She was walking in enemy territory.
The marketing department was not her favorite place in the entire world, but she needed to pick up some copyright paperwork for Tina and she would rather walk on eggshells for three minutes than make Tina drive all the way into the city. They were planning a lunch date next week anyway, so she'll get her paperwork then. This was Santana's last errand of the day before she went home. A night with Brittany was worth getting this over with quickly.
"Erwin," Santana said shortly to the man behind the desk, "I'm picking up a copyright packet for one of our freelance photographers, "Tina Chang."
"Chang, Tina," he repeated. "Alright, I'll be right back."
He disappeared into the office behind his desk and Santana looked around, constantly vigilant of potential threats. What she found was the absence of a threat, and that bothered her more.
The office of Jesse St. James was being emptied. Through the large door, Santana could see three uniformed men packing up the personals of the Head of Marketing.
Or was he the former Head of Marketing now?
Santana's stomach tumbled unpleasantly. Brittany had emailed Sue Sylvester that information, the real story, the truth about Jesse St. James. If he had been fired... and he even had the idea that Santana was behind it... then everyone was in trouble.
"Why Miss Lopez," a horribly familiar voice drawled slowly, "fancy seeing you so far from that cave of a computer lab."
Speak of the devil.
She turned to him, pushing down all of her anxiety and meeting his eyes with a hard look, "St. James."
"To what do I owe this pleasure?" he quirked his eyebrows at her and certainly didn't look like a man that had just been fired. If anything he looked even more pompous and aggravating than usual.
"Picking up some paperwork," she slid her eyes over to his office. "Are you redecorating, or did they finally come to their senses and decide to move your office into the depths of hell, where you belong."
He laughed at the contempt in her voice and moved closer, leaning carelessly on the desk she was standing next to, "I am on my way out, but I wasn't fired, quite the opposite in fact."
He paused, because he wanted her to ask him to continue.
She refused.
He continued anyway, "I'm sure you've realized that Clockwork's most influential CEO dragged herself out of her cesspool of self-pity to come back and turn a few things around in this wonderful company of ours."
Santana really didn't like the tone in his voice, the way he was looking at her like he knew all her secrets—which was true. She put one hand on her hips and studied the nails of her other hand, "And what does that have to do with you?"
"She's building a satellite office in Seattle, and guess who's on the executive team to oversee the launch?"
Briefly, Santana realized that the only thing stopping her from clawing the man's face off was her habit of keeping her nails so short. Sue Sylvester didn't fire Jesse, she promoted him farther than he ever deserved to go. She's rewarding him for some unfathomable reason and Santana wanted to kill somebody. She was hoping for justice, and all she got was the small comfort that he was moving to Seattle.
She couldn't say that it was helping.
It was like she had just been hit by a bus. She was having a hard time breathing. She literally couldn't wrap her mind around how Jesse St. James was getting an executive position at a new satellite office and she still had yet to be acknowledged by the company's new owner. The one that promised Brittany justice and a bright fucking future with a cherry on top.
"I hope your plane crashes," she smiled sweetly, her eyes conveying her barely contained and absolute loathing.
He laughed, and the sound made her skin crawl, "I have to admit, I'm going to miss playing our little games."
Games. She was always just a game to him. She was nothing more than a pawn in his game of chess, and just when she thought she had a chance, he catches her in a checkmate that she can't possibly win. Even with everything she has on him, there were too many people that could get hurt if she pissed him off. This was only a game to him, but she felt like she just lost so much.
She didn't realize how much she let herself believe in Sue Sylvester's promises until it blew up in her face.
"I love the glasses, by the way," his smirk was devilish. "I should have insisted that you wear them in a photo shoot a long time ago, I'm sure it your fans would love it."
His tone, god his tone, implied every innuendo in a single turn of a phrase. Taking something she cherished because Brittany loved it, and turned it into some sort of sick fetish to be marketed. She might have hit him, but the clerk returned in that moment and said, "Here's your packet, Miss Lopez."
Santana took Tina's paperwork and, with a hateful look, walked away from Jesse St. James for the last time. She would have taken consolation in that fact, but she was too upset. The stress from the exhibition, the disappointment in Sue Sylvester, and bitter resentment towards his success were meshing into some horribly dejected ache in her chest. She was furious. She was irate. She wanted to punch somebody.
She was about to cry.
She made it about as far as Quinn's office door before the tears started welling in her eyes, pushing through she let out a small and pathetic, "Q?"
Santana heard the movement behind the desk more than she saw it, between taking off her glasses and the blurs from her tears. She didn't need to see much to make it around the desk and fall rather ungracefully into Quinn's lap. Screw her pride, forget trying to act tough, Santana was so frustrated she couldn't handle anything more than to sit in Quinn's lap, bury her face in the woman's shoulder and cry.
Quinn went stiff for a moment, probably surprised that Santana would break down at the company, even if it was hidden in her office. Santana didn't care, they just had a fluffy heart to heart, so Quinn had better live up to her side of the bargain. Only a second passed before comforting arms wrapped around her shoulders and embraced her. It made Santana cry that much harder.
"I fucking hate him so much," Santana mumbled through her teeth, "I want to set him on fire and watch him burn while I hold a bucket of water and dangle it in his face."
A hand started working comforting circles into her back and Santana took a small breath.
"I can't fucking believe this, he get's fucking everything handed to him. I can't believe I thought things might change. I'm such an idiot," Santana sniffled, taking one last deep breath against Quinn's shoulder and started to sit up, wiping her eyes dry. "God damn it, I'm so pathetic it's—"
She stopped talking when she realized that she wasn't sitting in Quinn's lap.
"Um," Rachel kept glancing between the desk and Santana's incredulous eyes. "Hello, Santana."
"Where's Quinn?" Santana asked shortly, still frozen in place by the absurdity of it all. This was mortifying. She was such an idiot.
"She was called to some executive meeting," Rachel clasped her hands together against her own chest because she knew Santana wouldn't want them touching her. "I don't know when she's going to be back, she left nearly an hour ago."
Santana slipped her glasses back on, the world around her coming into a better focus and only confirming that she was sitting in Rachel Berry's lap, in her friend's office, after crying her eyes out about Jesse St. James.
"Did something happen?" Rachel started quietly, cautiously.
"Yeah," Santana threw her arms out harshly and Rachel flinched, "Jesse St. Jerk-off got a huge fucking promotion and is on his way to Seattle to help manage a mini-corporate Clockwork as a fucking executive and it's—it's like, why?"
She was getting upset again, her eyes prickling with angry tears, and she couldn't stop herself. This had been going on for too long. She had gotten her hopes up too high.
"Why is he getting that?" she asked Rachel like she knew. "What has he done for this company but give it a nice piece of ass for a spokesperson?"
"You're more than a—"
"I'm so sick of hearing that," Santana cut her off, "if I was more than that, then I would be getting the fucking promotion, not that guy. Not that fucking guy. That asshole has done nothing for this company."
"I think he's done a lot, actually," Rachel said quietly, glancing nervously up to her eyes, "in a very round about way."
Santana stopped breathing, and for a moment Rachel thought she was going to be slapped, but Santana only said, "You have two seconds to explain yourself."
"You probably don't want to hear this," Rachel swallowed nervously, but too determined to make her point, "please bear with me and ask yourself if you would always be working so hard if you didn't feel like you constantly had to disprove his image of you? Would you have really turned the company around so quickly? Would you have put in half the effort, if everyone accepted you at face value and you had no reason to make them see any different?"
Santana's eyes narrowed slightly, "I don't owe him anything."
"You don't," Rachel shook her head, "no, I've seen the evil in that man, that's not what I'm trying to say. Your work effort is excellent in spite of him making you hate this company, and I'm not trying to credit him in any way. I'd just like to make it known that while he thought he was suffocating you into submission, he was actually giving you the fuel to burn beyond his control."
Santana stared until Rachel continued, trying to explain herself further.
"Eventually, it got to the point where you were working so hard that people had to notice your influence here, your artistry at your craft... I mean, Brittany sure noticed."
She wasn't sure if it was Brittany's name, or Rachel's kind and soothing voice, but Santana found it in herself to calm down. Maybe she had just burnt herself out.
"I never pegged you as some sappy optimist," Santana grumbled, slipping her fingers under her glasses to wipe her eyes.
Rachel gave her a small smile, "I'm not saying it's fair, because it's no where close to fair at all. I... I hate seeing him get under your skin, and if he's going to Seattle, then good riddance. We should be celebrating."
"Celebrating what?"
Their eyes snapped over to the door where Quinn was standing, her hand still on the doorknob and looking a little lost at the sight of them. Santana was quick to remove herself from Rachel's personal space.
Santana walked around the desk, rubbing her cheeks again to make sure there was no trace of tears, "Quinn, you wouldn't believe what I just—"
"San—Santana were you crying?" Quinn cut her off quietly, finally shutting the door for privacy. She looked to Rachel for an answer, her face still nearly dazed.
"Yeah," she scoffed sarcastically, "I've been crying in your girlfriend's lap for the past ten minutes because Jesse St. James hurt my feelings real bad."
Quinn looked from Santana, who was rolling her eyes, to Rachel, who was shrugging.
"I can't tell if you're being serious or not," Quinn offered dryly. She was concerned and wanted a straight answer.
"That's actually exactly what happened," Rachel admitted from the desk chair. Quinn turned to Santana to have her explain, but Santana didn't give her the chance.
"Are you okay?" Santana studied the blonde closely, "you look a little out of it yourself."
Quinn let out a small laugh, as if remembering something funny from the day before. She ran her hands through her hair, a nearly unbelieving smile came to her face, "I um, guess who I just met."
Santana only had to think for a moment, "Sue Sylvester?"
That took the wind out of Quinn's sails, she looked ridiculously perplexed that Santana was so easily able to guess her mystery acquaintance, but the smile stayed on her face, "Yes, actually, I've just come from a meeting with her."
Santana was on guard instantly, waiting for Quinn to start talking about empty promises and a better future.
"She's making me Head of Marketing," Quinn shrugged, she still couldn't believe it, "I take over after the expo."
"You got the job!" Rachel was standing before Santana could even process the news.
Jesse was on his way out and Sylvester replaced him with Quinn. While Santana would still have loved to see Jesse torn apart, this sure made that disappointment a little easier to handle. Brittany mentioned that Sylvester had her eye on Quinn, maybe not all of her promises were empty.
"Quinn, this is awesome," Santana squeezed her friend's shoulder because Rachel was still hugging her. "You totally deserve it."
"The only shitty part is that Jesse—"
"Is getting that promotion," Santana finished for her. "Yeah, he just told me all about it."
Quinn nodded, understanding that was the reason Santana had been upset. She wasn't really happy with it either, but she wouldn't let it ruin her own promotion.
Rachel moved away so that Quinn could hug her friend, and Quinn spoke quietly as she opened her arms to Santana, "You know this means I call all the shots about your PR, right?"
"I wouldn't want anyone else," Santana smirked lightly. It was so true, she trusted Quinn unconditionally, she hoped that Quinn could feel it in the hug.
With Quinn at the reins, that was one less thing to worry about. Jesse was on his way across the country, Quinn had moved into a position where she could actually protect Santana instead of just running interference. Actually, with Jesse gone, Santana wasn't sure what she really needed to be protected from.
Quinn caught Santana's eye as they pulled away, "Things are going to change, San, I promise. I'm going to tear up that department. Sylvester gave me the liberty to purge my entire personnel roster, anyone I want, gone."
"That's kind of badass," Santana had to admit.
"And completely reasonable," Rachel nodded, "that is going to be your biggest hurdle Quinn, the personnel that were loyal to St. James."
"I'm not going to go easy on any of them. Hopefully I'll be able to get my department up to par with yours," she smiled at her friend, enjoying the words on her mouth. My department.
"Not a chance, Fabray," Santana smirked, "IT runs this joint, everybody knows that."
"Give me a year," Quinn challenged.
Santana nodded, accepting that if anyone could do it, it would be Quinn.
"Let's talk it out. What do we know?"
"We know that Jesse St. James is a god damn asshole."
There was a pause.
"True, but I don't think that's really the most useful piece of information in the world."
Santana sighed, continued typing, and rephrased, "We know that Sylvester gave him a really cushy promotion to executive in Seattle."
There were three screens in front of her, two filled with work, the third was a screen saver; the picture of her glasses on the blonde's notebook—stolen from Brittany Facebook. A representation of their closeness in seemingly mundane objects. Santana squinted at her screens; work, work, work. Last minute prep for the expo. She wanted to get everything finished tonight so that she didn't have to do anything tomorrow night, then maybe she could someone get at least an hour of sleep before the big day.
Already, her projects were finalized, presentation approved and she couldn't be prouder—or more nervous.
Small details needed to be worked out. The personnel needed to facilitate the event, the equipment they were missing at this morning's set up, the schedule, the arrangements, the displays. Most everything was already decided by Quinn and her gang of event gurus, but Santana was particular. Everything needed to be addressed, considered, and approved. Most of Quinn's decisions were correct and exactly how Santana would want them; they had been doing this together for quite some time.
It was the one in a million detail that Santana needed to change to feel like everything was going to be prefect. Or as close as she could get it. So that this expo could run smoothly.
"Right," Brittany ran her hands soothingly up and down Santana's sides, "and even though he totally doesn't deserve it, now Quinn has his old job, and he's on the other side of the country... you have to admit this helps you out a little."
Santana sat back to face the woman she was sitting on top of. This was the second lap she's found herself in and she much preferred this one and their position. Brittany was sitting in Santana's desk chair and facing away from the computer. The brunette, on her lap and with her legs on either side of the the blonde's waist, was facing the computer, her arms reaching around pale shoulders to reach her keyboard.
"It helps St. James out too," Santana frowned, still upset.
They had started this, tucked away in Santana's basement, as Brittany's way to cuddle with the woman as she worked. She knew Santana needed to finish her work, she knew it was important, she just really wanted to be close to her too.
"But now you don't have to worry about tiptoeing around him," Brittany tried to reason, "you know he was always going to be a threat no matter what kind of stuff you had on him."
Santana's brow furrowed, her eyes glancing back and forth between Brittany's. She was being dramatic and pouty and she couldn't see the silver lining, but she could see the trepidation in Brittany's eyes; Santana was upset and Brittany felt like it was her fault. Like she had let her down by asking her to trust in some crazy blonde widow.
She kissed her lightly, "Everything you're saying is true, Brittany. It's all true. I'm being hateful and petty."
"I think you're allowed," Brittany reassured her, squeezing her hips lightly and pulling them closer together. "Next to Artie, I don't know who's runied your life more."
"That's exactly why I wanted to see Sylvester throw him off the roof," Santana admitted. "This is just so... unsatisfying."
Brittany hesitated for a second, "I don't know, maybe... she did it on purpose, to get him away from you... and what if there's more to it than that?"
Santana didn't understand, she trailed her fingertips down the side of Brittany's face, "What do you mean?"
"Okay, putting Quinn in charge of marketing kind of made sense, she's been applying for that job for a while and she's been working so closely to the marketing team because of you, because lets face it, you are Clockwork's marketing strategy."
"Unfortunately," Santana mumbled.
"But like," Brittany looked up to Santana with a skeptical face, "what makes Jesse right for this job? It's way up the ladder to be a normal promotion for someone like him."
"I don't know, Britt," Santana was just as puzzled, "you know he schmoozes the executives though, maybe he knows the right people?"
Brittany wasn't convinced, "The people that Sylvester's already fired?"
"She hasn't fired all of the bigwigs."
"All of Jesse's favorites," Brittany nodded, "Rachel and Quinn were going over it with Sunshine in the office the other day. They were hoping that Jesse would get nixed too."
"Why doesn't Rachel just send in Sunshine again and have her get the scoop?" Santana shook her head, she wasn't getting her hopes up again about some crazy plot devised by a woman she's never met. A woman that refuses to meet her.
"Because Sunshine is a columnist now," Brittany said like she didn't hear Santana's sarcasm, "she writes about up and coming artists around the city, it was part of their deal."
"Hm," Santana glanced over Brittany's shoulder to the work she needed to be doing, "are your legs falling asleep?"
"No," Brittany smiled. She ran her hands up Santana's thighs, around her hips and across her back, wrapping her up in a hug. "I love you, and I'm really sorry that you didn't get to see him get what was coming to him."
Santana kissed the top of Brittany's head and hugged her back, "It's alright, Britt. This is probably life's way of telling me that I need to get the fuck over it."
Brittany's shoulder's shook as she laughed.
"It is really cool that Q's in charge now," Santana shrugged, "she was telling me about some of her ideas, I've really liked all of them."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah... besides, I said I want to focus on you more," Santana admitted quietly, "and I can't really focus on you if I'm bitching about him."
Brittany was smiling shyly when she looked back up at Santana, her arms tightening around her slender frame, "I love you."
"I love you too, Brittany."
"Can I take you out?"
Santana blinked, surprised at the question, "Like a date?"
"Duh a date, silly," she laughed a little, "like we were talking about this morning."
Santana kissed Brittany's forehead to hide her blush, "When?"
"The night after the convention. You're going to do so well, I know we're gonna need to celebrate."
She was so confident when she said it that Santana had to believe that it was true, "It's a date."