Santana woke first when the phone on the nightstand started ringing. Brittany groaned, shifting closer and pressing her forehead against Santana's shoulder, blatantly pretending it didn't exist.
"Britt," Santana blinked at the bright light the buzzing contraption was making, "that's your phone."
"Make it stop."
Because she was technically closer, being the little spoon and all, Santana easily reached out to pick up the phone, squinting with sleep blurry eyes to read the name on the display, "It's Rachel."
"Answer it."
"It's your boss—"
Brittany's muttered "please," was gentle in contrast to the heel that nudged Santana's shin. With a sigh, Santana engaged the call, "Rachel, why are you calling so early?"
There was a pause on the other end, "...Santana?"
"Yeah," she fell back onto the bed again, "Brittany's asleep, what did you need so early in the morning. She can't possibly be late for work."
"No! No, of course not, but that is exactly why I'm calling. Quinn has informed me that you will be taking the day off to relax in preparation for you exhibition tomorrow."
"Did she now," Santana rubbed her eyes, feeling Brittany shift closer, arms wrapping around her waist.
"Yes, and I was trying to contact Brittany to ask her if maybe she felt sick today?"
"Excuse me?" Santana hadn't caught up yet.
"I was inquiring, if perhaps Brittany might be feeling ill, as in unable to come to work, as in free to do other things with her time today?"
Santana would have rolled her eyes if they were open. She took the phone away from her mouth and asked, "Britt, Rachel thinks you might be sick and you should stay in bed all day. Are you feeling sick?"
Brittany coughed twice from behind her.
"Yeah, she's feeling a under the weather," Santana told the editor. "I'm sure it's just a bug, she's be ready to go for tomorrows gig."
"Excellent!" Rachel sounded quite pleased with the news. "Thank you, Santana. I hope you have a great day, and good luck tomorrow."
"Thanks..." Santana took a gamble, "is Quinn with you?"
"Um, yes... would you like to speak to her?"
"Yeah, if you wouldn't mind."
She heard the phone shuffle, "San?"
"Hey, did you put Rachel up for this?"
"No, I promise," Quinn stiffed a yawn. "I'm going into the office today and I'll call you if I need anything from you, or if anything changes, but try to relax today, alright?"
"Alright, cool," Santana was sure that no matter what she did today, she would enjoy it because Brittany was going to spend it with her.
"And Kurt's dropping off your outfit this afternoon."
"Have you seen it?" Santana frowned, hating that part of her life.
"It's cute, Brittany will like it."
Santana snorted, because Quinn was saying that like she would wear anything as long as Brittany approved. It might be true. Santana paused a moment before saying, "I'm sure she will. I'll let you go... and tell Rachel I said thanks, for giving Brittany the flu or whatever."
"I will," there was a smile in Quinn's voice. "Talk to you later."
"Bye."
Santana clicked off the phone and set it down. Brittany was quick to draw her back into the warm sanctuary. Her back close to the warm chest behind her. A tickle of breath on her shoulder. Lazily, nimble fingers worked odd patterns into her stomach.
Santana found it hard to trouble herself over the future when her current existence was so comfortable.
Santana swung her racket in a slow testing motion, warming up her arm and watching Brittany stretch unabashed. She watched because she was allowed and she had been assured, on more than one occasion, Brittany liked it when she stared. Especially when they were alone, locked away in a room without windows, the only sounds were the scuffs of their shoes, and the whisper of a racket through the air.
Brittany pulled her arm over her chest the material of her tee shirt pulling tight around her waist, exposing a sliver of skin at her stomach. When Santana noticed a mark, the small shape of a bruise, she smirked. She had made that last night when a kiss had turned into something more and what was left was a hickey.
"You're staring," Brittany pointed her racket at the woman across from her. She loved it, but she also loved calling Santana out. She didn't blush and advert her eyes the way she used to and Brittany was glad that she was getting comfortable with the idea that she wasn't being disrespectful when her eyes lingered a little too long.
Santana frowned, playfully thoughtful, "No, I don't think I am."
"Then, what are you doing?" Brittany asked lowering her arms, looking forward to the answer.
"I would call it, appreciating," Santana closed the few feet of distance separating them until there wasn't a breath of space between them, her eyes meeting Brittany's. She said it with such a true affection, an honest reverence that made Brittany blush.
Brittany tilted, shifting her body weight to one leg and placing a soft kiss on Santana's cheek, "Call it whatever you want, I like it."
"Are you ready to lose," Santana leaned forward, kissing her shoulder, and taking the hem of Brittany's shirt in one hand. This was one more thing Santana had grown more comfortable with, small displays of affection. In public or not, Santana had surprised her by holding her hand into and threw the gym, Brittany adored them, "again?"
"You're on," she stepped away an pulled a rubber ball from the pocket of her basketball shorts. "My serve?"
"Go for it," Santana waved her on, "you're going to need the head start."
It was subtle, but the blue eyes watching her definitely narrowed at her taunt. Brittany's competitive side was crawling out and Santana was ready for it. She adored it, the hint of tension in the air and the excitement of a challenge. Santana took her place at the back of the court and waited for the serve. She wanted to win, sure, but more than that, she wanted to push herself because she knew Brittany would be doing the same thing.
Brittany licked her lips and adjusted the racket in her hand, "Let do this."
They started relatively slow, remembering the game, the way each other played, their own strengths and weaknesses. Too soon Santana had won back the serve and Brittany was walking towards the back of the court to receive.
"That was a good hit," she called over her shoulder as she took her spot.
Santana smiled from the box, "Thanks."
"I'm still going to win," Brittany decided, her voice aloof and playful.
Santana just laughed, bouncing the ball a few times before she served. Brittany was quick to return, what she lacked in practiced skill she made up for in confidence. She never stutter stepped, never hesitated to move, and her natural grace was a point in her favor. Santana, while she knew the game, how to play the angles and the rebounds, was also incredibly determined.
"You're going to hurt yourself," Brittany let out a short breath, a little taxed from the play and from watching Santana sprint across the court to return the ball so fast that she barely had time to catch herself before she ran headlong into the wall.
"Whats a few bruises when I'm winning?" Santana sent her a sly smile, taking the server's box again.
"For now."
"Three to one."
"How did you even—"
Santana was in the middle of her back swing when the question interrupted her concentration. She stilled her racket, refusing to make a sloppy serve, and caught the ball when it bounced. Looking over to her opponent, Santana raised an eyebrow to prompt her to continue.
"Oh, sorry," Brittany smiled a little sheepishly, "I didn't mean to mess you up."
"No," Santana shrugged it off, "what was your question, Britt?"
"How did you get into racket ball?"
"Blaine," Santana gestured to her made herself ready to serve again, and with a glance over her shoulder to make sure Brittany was ready, she started the game back up again. "I hate cardio, so he needed to find a way to make it interesting for me."
"Or else you would complain too much," Brittany teased, returning the serve and sending Santana across the court for the ball.
Santana was able to hit it, but it was an awkward angle against the far right side of the court. Brittany was starting to use her left handedness to her advantage. She was learning, Santana was happily impressed.
"Do you win against him?"
"Eventually. It took me a while, and he hits really hard compared to me and you."
They talked softly, their words bouncing off the walls with the ball and the sounds of their feet. Neither ever took their eyes off the ball.
"I was so jealous the first time I came here and saw you with him."
Santana looked over to the woman for the first time and missed her return entirely, the rubber ball bouncing carelessly against the back wall and rolling towards them on the court. Brittany didn't notice and was still waiting for Santana's return. When she realized it wasn't coming she turned around, finding Santana picking up the rubber ball.
"No way," she tossed the ball to Brittany who caught it easily, too curious to be frustrated at her error, "really?"
"Yeah," Brittany let out a short laugh, ducking her head and moving to the serving box, "I was trying really, really, hard to not get caught checking you out and he was like, all over you."
"He was not all over me," Santana snorted. She was flattered, remembering how hard it was for her to keep her eyes off of the journalist during their first game together.
"No," Brittany mumbled, spinning the racket in her hand, "but it was hard, because at the time, you weren't mine, and he was there, and you were comfortable with him..."
Brittany looked up to her girlfriend, who was now officially hers.
"And I wanted that, Santana, the closeness. I wanted you."
Santana licked her lips, scratching her eyebrow and trying to hide her blush.
"I know you wanted me too," Brittany laughed.
"I did," Santana admitted softly. "I wanted you so bad."
They picked back up where they left off, Brittany making two points and matching Santana's score before she was forced to hand over the serve.
"Three to three," Santana served, drawing back to wait for Brittany's return.
Out of the corner of her eye she watched Brittany move and hit the ball, Santana drew her racket back, ready to strike—
"How badly did you want me?"
She missed the ball entirely and the wayward momentum almost sent her toppling to the ground. She huffed shortly, annoyed with herself and confused if she heard the question right. Wiping her hand on her shorts, Santana glanced behind her. Brittany was already gathering up the ball an eyebrow raised, waiting for an answer.
"What did you say?" she asked, hoping she had heard wrong.
"How badly?" Brittany shrugged causally, moving towards the serving box. "For me it was crazy, there was this one time when I couldn't remember a single thing from that morning's COG. I spent the whole time staring at your reflection in the computer monitor."
Santana's mouth hung open slightly, partially because she was breathing heavy from the game, partially because she wasn't used to questions like this and wasn't sure how to answer it. Talk about how she had been pining over her office shadow ever since she stepped foot into Clockwork? Did she want to know about the desk fantasies, or the times when she would get so caught up watching the blonde writing in her notebook that she had stopped typing all together? Brittany didn't really give her a chance, she was getting ready to serve and Santana had to pull her focus to try to return it.
She didn't.
"Four to three," Brittany smiled and causally continued their conversation, "I had this dream about our elevator once."
Our elevator.
The elevator that was solely for them. Santana's get away, her escape, shared with fewer than three people. There was so many times that, if she had the nerve, Santana wanted nothing more than to lean over and truly say good morning to the journalist. She shifted from foot to foot, thinking about all the inappropriate thoughts that she had over Brittany's time at Clockwork. All the things she had wanted and never thought she could have.
"I um—" Santana was cut off by Brittany's serve, strong, and quick. She was barely able to return it this time, and finally they picked up a volley. Hit for hit, Santana found her rhythm and pointedly pushed the images of herself and Brittany out of her head. She was just about seal the deal, drawing back for her kill shot—
"You never answered my question."
Santana was able to strike the ball, but the last second distraction was enough to ruin her grip. The racket turned on impact and the ball went flying straight up, into the ceiling.
Brittany caught the ball, with a surprising ease and the barest smirk on her face, "Five-three."
"Britt," Santana's eyes narrowed in a small display of indignation, "you think you're sneaky, but your verbal interference is not as subtle as you think."
She laughed, the warm sound echoing around the court. Santana listened, watching her scuff her tennis shoe along the hardwood, a blush spreading over her face from being caught. Santana forgot that she was supposed to be annoyed by cheating, until Brittany said, "I'm still winning."
"Not for long," Santana took her sport to receive and the game continued.
Now that she had been accused of cheating, the questions stopped, and Brittany's efforts doubled. Refusing to be bested, Santana kept up with her pace, matching her point for point.
When Santana won back the serve after a vicious rally that made no headway to a winner, Santana glanced at the digital clock embedded in the wall. Her lungs were burning, her tee shirt soaked, and she was feeling quite alive. Santana placed one hand on the wall behind her and looked over to where Brittany was in a similar state, her hands on her knees and panting.
"We've been tied for the past ten minutes," Santana mentioned.
"Sevens, right?" Brittany asked, straightening as she tucked her racket between her legs, pulling the bottom of her tee shirt up to wipe sweat from her face.
Santana's heart pounded, for an entirely different reason than physical exertion. That woman, the lighthearted, playful, intelligent, writer that had driven her up the wall for the better part of her stay at Clockwork, was gorgeous. In a tee shirt and shorts, Brittany was all sleek curves and soft shapes. The hint of definition in the muscle just above her knees, the wonderful slope of her calves; that was one of the few pieces of skin Santana had been able to see at first, visible only in a business casual skirt.
Santana could, embarrassingly, recall the day she counted the time Brittany had crossed and recrossed her legs, because she had watched each time. The skirt of the day was shorter than usual, and Santana couldn't have ignored it for all the professionalism in the world.
Brittany simply drove her crazy.
She was moving forward before she realized it. Drawn by a siren's call of glistening abs and the delicate flair of pale hips. Brittany was dropping her shirt from her face as she stepped withing reaching distance.
She smiled, a little curiously, pausing with her hands still in her shirt near her neck, "Did you want to call it a game?"
"How about," Santana dipped, resting her racket on the ground with a small clatter, the ball bouncing away freely. When she rose to met Brittany's eyes again, she found Brittany's eyes less curious and more craving. Brittany had always been very good at reading her, realizing her mood before Santana could even get a handle on her own emotions. She knew when Santana wanted to cuddle, a gentle reassurance of love, and she knew when Santana wanted more.
Her hands, now free of sports equipment, engaged themselves with Brittany's waist. Thumbs trailing over sweat slick skin, "We play a different kind of game."
"I'd still win," Brittany breathed, leaving her shirt bunched around her still heaving chest, to pull Santana in for a kiss.
Brittany could feel Santana's body heat meld with hers, closing the distance until they were flush at more places than just their lips. Still she pressed further, hands guiding, feet working, moving them backwards until Brittany's back was pressed against the back wall. Santana's tongue ran across her bottom lip and Brittany decided it was time to drop her racket.
Santana chuckled into their kiss, her hips pinning Brittany's to the wall, hands tracing the stomach that started it all. Brittany was just as quick with her hands, slipping into the back of Santana's shirt, she raked her nails along the woman's spine, feeling the shiver beneath her fingertips, the subtle arch further into her body against the wall.
"What if someone comes in?" Brittany asked, her eyes squeezed shut at Santana's mouth working down her neck.
"We're against—the door," Santana mumbled into her skin between open mouth kisses, "as long as you stay—right here," she pressed the heels of her hands against Brittany's hipbones, fingers biting into the soft flesh around them, "we'll be fine."
Brittany had another question but she forgot it as the lips on her neck, in that place just above her collarbone, started sucking. Her head fell against the door behind her. Fingers worked up her exposed stomach, mapping out curves and crevices, dabbling along lower edge of her sports bra.
"Santana."
Santana made a small humming noise, tracing her lips over Brittany's pulse until she reached her jaw, nipping lightly at the skin there.
"I love you."
Santana spoke into her temple, "So much."
Brittany clutched her hips as Santana's slipped under the tight elastic of her sports bra. Santana's mouth caught her gasp. She could feel the smile in those lush lips, kissing her in a way that was both languid and wanting. Brittany had to pull back when her nipple was teased between two fingers, a panting moan falling against Santana's cheek.
"You want to know how crazy it was for me?"
Brittany's mind reeled, trying to catch up with Santana's words, "Wha?"
"How many times I would force myself to look something up on my tablet, just for something to do, so I wouldn't be tempted to stare at you?"
Brittany whimpered, from the low sound of Santana's voice, and the thigh working it's way between her own. Her body arched from the door, seeking more contact wherever she could get it.
"How many times I thought about doing this," she rolled her hips into Brittany's, "on my desk."
Brittany grasped at her, one arm over her shoulders, the other on Santana's hip, urging her on.
"On the couch in my office."
Santana tongue ran along the shell of Brittany's ear, earning another moan.
"In the lab."
Brittany quaked, the hand on her chest, the whispers in ear, the too gentle motion between her legs, "San..."
"You've been driving me crazy since that first interview," Santana sucked lightly on her earlobe, worrying it between her teeth, "since you first stepped foot in my basement, since you got under my skin and into my head like no one else."
"Santana," her voice was weak, her arms pulling her lover closer, hips begging for more contact.
Santana put one hand on the side of Brittany's face, urging her to meet her eyes. When she did, when Santana was staring into the deep blue eyes that saw her for who she truly was before she could see it herself, she admitted, "You'll never know what you've done for me, Brittany."
Brittany's hands cupped her face, thumbs stroking over her cheeks, "Oh San, anything. I—I'd do anything for you."
Santana kissed her, trying to tell her how much it meant to her, just the promise of that. Somewhere the kiss, and their bodies, transformed sentimental into sensual and Santana's hips rocked into Brittany's with a firmer and firmer presser. Their bodies warm, breath thready, hearts pounding against ribs. She pulled away, smirking when Brittany tried to follow, she whispered, "Let me do something for you right now."
Santana pressed one last kiss to her lips, then her neck, moving lower, scraping her teeth against a nipple as she passed, still moving lower. Brittany didn't realize what was happening until Santana's hips moved away when she fell to her knees. Fingers dipping into the waistband of her shorts, asking permission.
"San," Brittany's stomach flipped.
There was something about Santana on her knees in front of her, the look in her eyes like she wanted to be no where else, that was significant in a way Brittany only understood in the deepest parts of her intuition.
"You don't have to—like this—come back up—"
"Please," Santana asked in a small breath, nearly inaudible, fingers tugging gently at the material of Brittany's shorts. "I—I want this. I want you, like this."
Brittany lifted a hand to brush back a damp strand of dark hair away from the beautiful eyes looking up at her. When she nodded, they lit in a nearly rouge excitement, and Santana shuffled forward, placing a kiss just inside Brittany's hipbone. The muscles under her lips twitched, and she peppered light kisses along the thick waistband as she slowly lowered it, uncovering more and more precious porcelain skin.
If Brittany was unnerved by her exposure, it didn't show, or maybe she was too preoccupied with the suckling mouth under her navel, the hands running up her bare thighs, cupping her ass and finally resting on her hips. They steadied her against the door, a small gesture that was a large sense of security.
Santana could hear Brittany's soft and shallow breath, the skin under her hands slick from sweat, the radiating heat only getting warmer as she trailed kisses lower, and lower, until her lips graced over the juncture between Brittany's legs, flushed and heated from the friction of Santana's thigh.
"Shit," Brittany was already near breathless.
Her hands running along the walls for something to hold onto, it was useless, there wasn't even a protruding doorknob. Santana held her steady, kissing a feather light path along Brittany's natural seam. Forgoing her search for stability, Brittany leaned heavily into the door, hands clasping over Santana's forearms along her thighs.
She was glad for the reaffirmed grip, because as soon as Santana's tongue made it's presence known Brittany nearly lost it. The moan that tumbled from her lips echoed through the empty court, bounced off the walls, encouraging her lover over and over again. Santana didn't need much encouragement. Her thumbs were working small circles near Brittany's hipbones as her tongue worked circles elsewhere. In a place that was much hotter, much wetter, and was driving Brittany crazy.
Her eyes were squeezed shut, hands gripping tight, chest heaving. She could feel the sensations building, the tension, the need. Subconsciously, her hips started rocking forward, one hand dropping to Santana's hair, brushing over lightly because it was still pulled back. Santana's tongue dipped lower—deeper, filling her.
"San," Brittany's thighs quaked, hips canting, meeting her rhythm.
She lost herself in Santana, the blazing sensations her mouth was causing, the comforting grip on her hip, the hand that found it's way between her legs to assist the wayward tongue. Brittany was surrounded by them, the feeling against her body, the smell of their sweat and musk in the air; her pants, moans, and Santana's name reverberating along the walls around her.
One hand fell against the strong shoulder under her as she curled into herself, the other stayed wrapped around the dark ponytail, keeping her close as Brittany lost the last bit of control she had. Brittany was barely able to open her eyes to meet Santana's, they were shining with a selfless love that made Brittany's heart swell.
She was so beautiful.
Santana's fingers, or her tongue, or a mixture of both, brought her to the edge and happily pushed her over. A jumble of something that could have been English filled the room, Santana's name scattered in. She shook, being held on her feet by Santana's will alone. Oblivious, to anything but the tingling aftershocks of her orgasm, Brittany was just barely able to realize that she was sinking, that somehow her shorts were being guided back up her thighs, that her body was welcomed down gently by strong hands as Santana sat back on her rear. She fit nicely, knees falling to either side of Santana's waist. Her arms fell over Santana's shoulders and Santana hugged her waist, kissing her neck softly.
"I love you," she murmured into dark hair.
"I love you too, Brittany," Santana squeezed her waist tighter.
Brittany leaned back, so she could find the woman's face, hold it in her hands and kiss her. Running her tongue along Santana's pouted lip, she let out a content sound at the taste.
"I told you I would win," Brittany sank in closer to her body and drawing small shapes at the base of her neck.
"I think that's debatable," Santana's eyes flickered about, taking in the color in her cheeks, the lopsided smile, the ever present shine of sweat. In a quieter voice she said, "You're really pretty."
The color in Brittany's cheeks darkened, blooming from her neck, "If you're trying to get me to return the favor, it's working."
Santana chuckled, kissing her cheek, and drawing Brittany impossibly closer. Brittany made a small sound when their hips connected, "Nah, I think it's about time we got out of here."
"Just," Brittany rested her forehead against Santana's shoulder, taking a deep breath. Santana smelled wonderful, her deodorant mixing in with sweat and lingering trace of Brittany. "Can I have like, a minute to chill out?"
"Sure, B."
Santana rubbed small circles in the small of her back, until the sweat started to dry uncomfortably along their skin, until her legs started to fall asleep from the weight of the woman in her lap. Santana was perfectly content to wait until Brittany was ready to move. It seemed like a small way to repay all the patience Brittany had afforded to her so effortlessly, but she was so happy to do it.
Santana stared down at the animal brushing itself against her legs. This cat hadn't stopped bothering her, or Brittany, since they stepped foot inside the loft apartment after their fun at the gym. Brittany had even insisted that they shower separately so that one of them was able to keep him company. Apparently, Lord Tubbington had felt awfully neglected in Brittany's absence.
Santana felt only vaguely guilty.
"I thought this cat hated me," she asked Brittany, stepping away from the island in the kitchen and towards the study area. Unfortunately, Lord Tubbington decided to follow her. She had hoped that he would find Brittany, his owner, much more interesting.
"He's starved for attention," Brittany smiled at her from where she was cleaning up after lunch. "I've been pretty much living at your house for the past couple of days. I'm surprised he hasn't broken out of here and come to find me. He's done it before, you know."
"So shouldn't he be all up on your shins?" Santana sank into Brittany's desk chair and waited for the inevitable. Sure enough, as soon as the large cat got to her feet he sank back on his haunches, wiggling to ready himself, and jumped into her lap.
"Aww, he likes you," Brittany cooed from the kitchen, sending her an adoring smile, like this was a really big deal.
"I'm surprised he can jump that high," Santana mumbled, watching the large cat arrange himself on her thighs and promptly collapse in a heap of fur and flesh. His head looked comically small for his body. His stripes thick a waving with the rise and fall of his ribs. This was seriously the fattest cat she had ever seen in her life.
"Santana," Brittany laughed at her from across the apartment, "why are you being so awkward with my cat? He's not going to bite you."
Santana looked dubious for a moment. The last time she was in this house, the cat seemed to want to set her of fire with his eyes, "You're sure?"
"Why don't you try petting him?" Brittany coaxed, wiping her hands on a dish cloth when she was finished tidying.
Santana sighed, resigning to take her arm from the chair and carefully work her fingers into the fur just behind the cat's ears. Did cats like being scratched behind their ears? Or was that dogs? Santana waited for a response and after a moment a dense rumbling spurred from him.
"It's purring."
"He's purring," Brittany corrected her, walking across the apartment and kissing the brunette softly on the forehead, "and that's what cats do."
"I didn't mean to keep you away from him," Santana looked at the cat in her lap to hide her blush. She had been kind of pathetic the last couple of days, needing Brittany close for comfort.
Brittany pressed another kiss to the top of her head and reached down for the cat, scooping Lord Tubbington into her arms, "Don't be silly, Tubbs knows how much you mean to me."
Santana smiled at that, standing from the chair to follow Brittany and her cat into the living room area. They fell onto the couch together, Brittany turned against the armrest and threw her legs over Santana's lap. Santana's hands were much quicker about finding Brittany's knees and shins then they were about petting Lord Tubbington.
Brittany pointed to the other side of the couch and Santana was quick to hand her the remote control. She watched the channels flip, running her hands over Brittany's shins and thighs, her thumb working small circles into her knee. After her shower Brittany had donned a pair of blue sweat pants, the elastic bands at the end of each leg were pushed up to her knees and Santana traced the material.
"Tomorrow's you big day," Brittany glanced at Santana from over Lord Tubbington's head.
"It is," Santana reached over, stilling Brittany's thumb on the remote and turning back to a previous channel. When the program wasn't what she had thought it was, she let Brittany resume control.
"You excited?"
"Excited to get it over with," Santana admitted.
"Oh come on," Brittany nudged her heels into Santana's thigh, "the conventions are kinda fun, maybe you an I can sneak away and you can show me how awful everyone's products are compared to yours."
Santana snorted, "If I have time."
Her tone implied that she would make the time, and Brittany's smile told her that she caught it.
"Or maybe we could sneak off and..." Brittany's hand released the remote and slid up Santana's arm, tugging gently on her borrowed shirt sleeve, "you can show me something else."
Brittany was implying a completely different genre of events and Santana tried to keep from blushing, which was silly because she was the one the instigated the event in the racquetball court. She took her hand from her sleeve and brought it to her mouth for a light kiss, "You're a goof."
"And I love you," Brittany smiled softly, her hand pressing against Santana's cheek.
Santana leaned into the touch, letting Brittany's fingers trace part of her glasses that fell behind her ear, "I love you too, Britt."
"Did you need to do anything at the office today?" Brittany asked, taking her hand back to pet her cat.
"Nope," Santana shook her head. "They'll call me if they need anything, but Quinn's usually really good about distinguishing fires for me."
"You guys work really well together," Brittany's voice was mixed in with the deep rumble of Lord Tubbington's purring, "I'm really excited about her getting the marketing position."
"Yeah..." Santana palmed one of Brittany's calves, squeezing the meaty part in her hand, "I'm still waiting for whatever is coming with Sylvester. The IT Department is the only section she hasn't turned upside down."
"That's because your department is the only one that isn't messed up, Santana," Brittany reassured her. "You'll be fine."
"Yeah but..." she watched Brittany roll her ankle, feeling the movement of the muscle and tendons in her hands. "What if she's waiting until after the exhibition to pull a fast one on me, because we've already invested so much into it?"
"No matter what," Brittany told her seriously, "you're going to figure it out. You're very good at that, and you have plenty of people willing to help you too."
What she was implying was that, no matter what, she would be there for Santana.
"Now," she leaned closer and stole a quick kiss, "we're supposed to be relaxing, right?"
Santana let out a small breath of laughter, "Right."
Brittany nodded and turned towards the television, her thumb working through the channels with a purpose, "So let's stop worrying about that and start focusing about what really matters."
"What's that, B?"
"Adventure Time," Brittany flashed a playful smile, "duh."
"You ready for this?"
Santana looked up from her tablet. Brittany was walking into the Clockwork employee area behind their booth.
The way this convention was set up put the larger displays, Clockwork's included, along the walls, each with their own break area behind their display booth. Santana liked it because that meant she didn't have to travel around the floor any more than she absolutely needed to. Clockwork's booth was one of the largest Santana had ever set up. They had a small stage for Mike's presentations throughout the day. Sam was in charge of the products displays with all the latest in Clockwork equipment and software. Santana herself was going to be here helping out until she was called to the main stage for her own presentation.
She was so nervous and Angry Birds wasn't helping at all. Brittany's smile was an excellent distraction, not to mention her outfit; a skirt with matching vest over a light blue blouse that really brought out her eyes. Santana was the first to say, "You look really nice, Britt."
Brittany blushed, smoothing down her skirt needlessly, "Thank you, San."
"But you're missing one thing," she set her tablet aside and fished something out of her computer bag. Walking over to the blonde, Santana lifted her arms and Brittany ducked slightly to let the woman slip the lanyard over her head, "There, now you're officially Team Clockwork."
"Awesome," Brittany said bashfully. It was hard to keep from smiling like an idiot with Santana standing this close, her hands still playing with the lanyard, and looking up at Brittany with those dark eyes. Brittany has started calling them her secret-sharing eyes, because they said I love you without words. To keep herself from leaning down to kiss the woman, Brittany focused on something else, her hand slipping under her vest and to the inside pocket, "I got you this."
Santana finally dropped Brittany's lanyard to take the object she was holding out, "A pen?"
"Yeah, but it's not just any pen," Brittany said seriously, contradicting the smile on her face, "it has a smiley face on it and I took the ink cartridge out."
Santana studied the pen. It was a simple black click pen with silver smiley face gleaming in the light, "It's a happy, but entirely useless, pen?"
"I thought that you could hold it during your presentation," Brittany glanced over to the direction of the stages, "and if you break it, you won't get ink all over your hands because there isn't any."
Santana's smile was small, but incredibly pleased, "It's my new lucky charm."
Brittany would have said something but she was cut off by a voice behind her.
"Well, if it isn't the Shakira of Circuit Boards, herself."
They glanced over to the door and Santana couldn't believe it, "Holly?"
"In the flesh," Professor Holly Holiday's smile was beaming, already stepping forward to meet Santana for a hug.
"I can't believe this," Santana was flabbergasted and thrown for a loop and being wrapped up in a hug before she could get a firm grasp of the situation. It didn't matter, Holly's embrace was familiar and nostalgic like riding a bike for the first time since your childhood.
"It's so good to see you, Santana, and look at you!" she held Santana away by the shoulders to get a look at her, "girl, look at you. Have you been researching lately? You look smarter, gained a few IQ points, but they look great on you."
"Oh shut up," Santana rolled her eyes, flushed and embarrassed by the praise. "What are you doing here? Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"
"I'm going to be hosting this lovely little event," she glanced around, smiling to Brittany when she caught her eye.
"Holly," Santana excited smile only grew, "that's a really big deal."
"I know," she rolled her eyes, like she couldn't believe she was even considered. "I wasn't the first pick of course. I'm a last minute sub in, apparently someone's wife decided to go into labor a week early and a contact of a friend of mine threw my name out. I would have told you last night when I booking my overnight, but I kind of wanted it to be a surprise."
Santana shook her head, still reeling, "Oh my god, what am I thinking? Brittany," she held out her hand and Brittany took it almost shyly, "Holly, this is Britt."
"Hi, I'm so excited that you're here," Brittany smiled brightly, holding out her hand, Holly ignored it and threw her arms around the journalist.
"I was hoping you would be here! I can not tell you how much I loved that article you wrote. You have a gift," Holly squeezed her tight. "It is so nice to meet you IRL."
Brittany pulled away, a puzzled smile on her face, "IRL?"
"In real life," Santana explained with an exasperated smile. "She thinks she's funny, using internet slang in normal conversation."
"I got the lowdown on the lingo," Holly laughed. "It's a big hit with my students. They think I'm the coolest professor ever."
"Or that you try too hard," Santana quipped, "I don't know, either one."
Holly sent her a wry look, cocking an eyebrow "As I remember it, chica, you thought I was the coolest professor on campus when you were running around UCLA."
"I'm pretty sure she still thinks that," Brittany chuckled at the flush on Santana's face.
"Yeah, well someone has to," Santana huffed.
Holly shared a smile with Brittany and said, "I'll be on stage all day introducing the different presentations, you girls should make your way up there if you have the time."
"We will," Santana was sure to find the time.
They talked for a few more minutes, catching up on who they knew was going to be at the exhibition, what was going on at Clockwork, and the UCLA drama Holly couldn't help but stir up. While Brittany knew enough about most of their conversation to add to it, she was very content to let Santana have this moment. The excited light in her eyes was infectious and Brittany much preferred to see that then the anxious look they held earlier.
"Well, technically, Britt's here working," Santana brought her back into the conversation with a proud smile. "She's covering the expo for her magazine. It's going to be a small follow up piece before she moves onto bigger and better things."
"Oh?" Holly asked with genuine interest. "What are you writing about next?"
"I um," Brittany flushed, feeling like her work was uncomplicated and not nearly as interesting compared to theirs, "Rachel's set me up with a few different offers. I'm leaning towards a story on up and coming dance company."
"Would it be kind of the same thing you did with San?" Holly asked curiously. "You follow them around and write an article?"
"We would have to figure that all out with the company," Brittany shrugged, "but pretty much, yeah."
"That would actually be really cool," Holly turned to Santana with an approving look, "think about learning about something completely different every few months? It would never get old. I would totally be into that."
"She's notorious for never teaching the same elective classes for more than two semesters at a time," Santana explained to Brittany.
"I like teaching different classes," the professor chuckled, "keeps me on my toes, new material can be so refreshing."
"Refreshing or not," Brittany sighed quietly, tucking a few strands of blonde hair behind her ear, "I'm really going to miss Clockwork."
She caught the brunette's eyes and knew it was obvious that by Clockwork, she meant Santana.
"It sucks not having someone obligated to listen to my rants," Santana joked to hide her blush under Holly's please grin.
"I'm sure Clockwork will miss you too, Britt," Holly spoke easily, using her nickname like they had been friends for as long as she's known Santana.
They chatted until Brittany was sure Santana had forgotten her nerves, she laughed openly, and smiled in a way Brittany was used to seeing only when she was out of her work environment. Holly was in the middle of a particularly funny retelling of how one of her robotics students nearly destroyed the entire lab when a convention worker came to gather her up for the stage prep and sound checks.
"I'll see you both later," she hugged them both in turn and Brittany was happy to feel that she had made a new friend. "Gotta go steal the show."
"They're lucky to have such a showboat for a speaker," Santana teased quietly, a small but giddy smile on her face.
"One more thing you could learn from me, hot stuff," she threw back smile as she walked out. "Just wait until you blow them away with your presentation!"
And like a switch, Santana's smile fell off her face, reminded of the wall of pressure and the thousands of people. Brittany nudged her shoulder lightly with her own, drawing her out of her thoughts, "Me too, you're gonna be great, Santana. I'm so excited for everyone else to see it."
She was so earnest, already so confident that Santana would succeed, that it was almost not even a question in Santana's head anymore. The people that cared about her were excited to see her accomplish everything they thought she was capable of and Santana was surprised to find a part of herself that was looking forward to it too. She wanted to own her presentation and make Brittany and Holly proud.