Hello. Hope you all had a great holiday. As you can see, I got inspired. So here's a NYE themed one-shot. Enjoy. :)
Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, whatever-ed the last chapter. Okay, now have some angsty (but slightly fluffier than my previous three chapters) smut! :D
I can't go a day without you
And see, nobody else will ever do
I'll never feel like I feel with you
Brittany knows whose arms are around her before she is fully awake, and, not for the first time, she feels the tightness in her chest as her heart aches- breaks- with longing. Longing for things to be different between her and Santana, longing for Santana's arms to be real and not temporary, not fleeting, not gone in an instant. She remembers the way Santana had loved her the night before, had held her tight, had kissed her and whispered her feelings into Brittany's jaw and promised, promised, promised. Her heart thumps painfully because it's a new day, and it's not last night anymore, and she never knows how Santana is going to react in the daylight.
Still, Brittany enjoys Santana's arms around her more than she can say; they remind her of a time when Santana's arms were real and not temporary, not fleeting, not gone in an instant. She revels in the warm pressure, almost as if she is encased in love, and sighs softly. She will take all the comfort she can get. She will pretend as long as she can.
When Santana kisses her bare shoulder, breathes over her skin, promises to call her later, Brittany holds herself together, barely- and tries to remember to breathe. Santana peels herself away from Brittany and Brittany watches her go, noticing the tightness in Santana's eyes- mimicking the tightness in Brittany's own chest- and hopes that Santana's not running away, that Santana will keep her promise that they will spend New Year's Eve together just as they have for years.
Her skin is cold in Santana's absence. Santana's like a furnace, like the sun- if the sun was dark- or maybe just like lava or hot, hot pavement. Her skin radiates heat, makes Brittany sweat, but without her Brittany shivers, Brittany's frigid, Brittany misses. (It's always easier to notice something's gone once you've had it.)
Brittany spares a hesitant thought for Sam- she cares for him, she does- but Sam is not Santana, and Santana is everything, and if Santana is everything, then Sam is what's left over, and Brittany's not sure there's anything left, anyways, since everything belongs to Santana.
Eventually, Brittany climbs out of bed. New Year's Eve used to be exciting for her, full of anticipation and surprises and no doubts about who she'd be giving her Midnight Kiss to. It was always a sure thing, even when she dated other people, because Santana was hers and she was Santana's, and though their partners changed from month to month throughout high school, their belonging never did.
Now, Brittany's so, so confused. High school is over, but it's not. She's stuck in limbo repeating her senior year, only without the thing that made school worth struggling through, without the person who loves her the most. (It's always easier to notice something's gone once you've had it.)
She doesn't know who she should give her Midnight Kiss to, because Santana left her behind- but Santana didn't. Santana broke up with her- but Santana didn't. Brittany's dating Sam- but Midnight Kisses are supposed to be about optimism, about hope, and Brittany only hopes for Santana.
Brittany goes about her day, trying not to worry about midnight, about Santana, about Sam. She eats lunch with her family and when they ask her about her big plans for midnight, she gives a noncommittal shrug and a hum, and avoids the questions in their eyes, and tries to remember to breathe. Even she doesn't know what she's doing. Only Santana does- if Santana calls her- and if not, she's still not sure she has it in her to spend the evening with Sam, though he's left her countless voicemails asking if she's been feeling better (she'd told him she was still sick from Christmas, and in a way, she is- heartsick, lovesick.)
When the phone rings again, Brittany tries not to get her hopes up- she tells herself it must be Sam again, but when she looks at the screen and sees Santana's achingly beautiful face smiling back at her next to her own, her heart skips a beat (remember to breathe) and she swallows thickly and answers.
Santana doesn't make small talk. She gets straight to the point, telling Brittany to be at her house at 9pm, and Brittany's stomach drops, but Brittany doesn't know if it's good or bad. She wants Santana so, so much, but she's still dating Sam, and she knows it's cheating, but she still doesn't want to answer the question of who's being cheated on. Is it cheating if your everything belongs to someone, but you're in a superficial, labelled relationship with someone else? Brittany's so, so confused.
She knows she should text Sam- but she doesn't feel right, doesn't want to lie to him. Sam is nice. Sam is beautiful. Sam is tender, caring and comforting, but Santana is everything, and Sam is what's left over, and Brittany doesn't want to have that conversation with him yet, not when she knows that Santana's arms are temporary, fleeting, gone in an instant.
Brittany hates the cold without Santana. (It's always easier to notice something's gone once you've had it.)
At 8:47pm, Brittany's sitting in her car in Santana's driveway, freezing and listening to her stomach silently tie itself in knots. She shouldn't be this nervous to see Santana- they were just together last night- but something about the gravity of the Midnight Kiss has her feeling anxious and worried. Midnight Kisses are about optimism and hope, and Brittany only hopes for Santana.
At 8:57pm, Brittany tries to remember to breathe, and enters the unlocked, dark house. Silently, she takes off her shoes and ventures up the stairs. When she reaches Santana's room and finds it equally dark, she calls out.
In here, B, Santana's smooth voice reaches her, and Brittany swallows nervously and follows the sound of her voice to Santana's parents' bathroom. When she sees Santana, she swallows thickly (remember to breathe) and her heart skips a beat.
Santana's standing near the bathtub, dressed in a silky nightgown, holding two glasses of champagne. The only light in the room comes from candles that flick shadows across Santana's dark features, and the bathtub (Santana's parents have one of the Jacuzzi-style ones) is full and inviting and Santana's lips are full and inviting, and suddenly Santana is smiling, smiling at her and Brittany's heart is pounding so hard her chest feels like it might break and she tries, tries, tries to remember to breathe.
Hey, Santana says softly, bringing Brittany's focus back to her, and Brittany feels her cheeks heating up slightly at having been caught staring. Here, Santana offers her a glass of champagne, and Brittany's heart aches- breaks- at the small strawberry Santana impaled on the rim of the glass for Brittany, at Santana's attention to detail for Brittany, at Santana's perfection for Brittany. Brittany will never not be amazed at how sweet and romantic Santana can be, at the lengths Santana goes to swoon her. Santana will never not be Brittany's everything.
Are you hungry? Santana asks, snapping Brittany back into the present, and Brittany blinks at the plate of fruit Santana holds out to her. It's supposed to be good luck or whatever, Santana mutters sheepishly, and Brittany smiles, her heart aching all over again as she plucks a slice of kiwi from the plate and slides it into her mouth.
Brittany's eyes don't miss the way Santana's eyes trace over Brittany's lips, following the path of the kiwi into her mouth, and as Brittany swallows, she senses the air charging between them, thick with tension and something else, something familiar to Brittany for a very long time.
Thank you, Brittany says hesitantly, her eyes searching Santana's face to keep from raking over Santana's body. Santana's wearing that silk nightgown and Brittany wants to know what it feels like under her fingers, wants to see what it looks like tossed carelessly on the floor beside the tub. Instead, she takes a long drink of her champagne, draining the glass and earning a surprised look from Santana. She picks the strawberry off the rim of the glass and eases it between her teeth, biting into it, and watches Santana swallow.
Their eyes meet. Santana's are dark and full of desire, full of longing, and Brittany imagines hers are the same way as Santana steps to her, gently taking Brittany's empty champagne glass from her hand, and sets both glasses down on the bathtub shelf behind her. Brittany trembles in anticipation, but then Santana's kissing her- she tastes like strawberries- and Santana's tongue is gliding out against Brittany's lips, warm and wet, silky like the silk nightgown Brittany's bunching up in her hands, and Santana's pressing against her and Brittany feels her heart pounding again.
Santana's hands are warm, like a furnace, like the sun- if the sun was tan and soft and strong- or maybe just lava, or hot, hot pavement as they soothe over Brittany's skin. Santana carefully begins to undress her, her movements slow and reverent. Santana murmurs, Just- just let me- and her eyes say, Please, B and Brittany closes her own eyes and sighs, feeling too much but still craving more, threatening to explode but trembling with desire. Brittany wants Santana so, so much. Santana's lips travel her body, kissing her, exploring her, and Brittany struggles to remain standing, struggles to remember to breathe.
Finally, after what feels like hours, days, years have passed, Santana leads Brittany to the tub, helps her in, and drops her own silky nightgown to the floor in one deft movement. Brittany stares at Santana (remember to breathe), watches her as she climbs gracefully into the tub and shifts them until Brittany is lying back in Santana's warm arms. Brittany protests at first- she wants to hold Santana- but Santana doesn't allow it. Santana says, I want to hold you- let me hold you, and her eyes say, Please, B, and Brittany relents, leaning back against Santana's soft, firm body. (Brittany never stood a chance.)
There's a party, somewhere- there always is, New Year's Eve or not- but Brittany would rather hide away with Santana (intimate with Santana, like a secret, safe) and pretend Santana's arms are real and not temporary, not fleeting, not gone in an instant, than spend her moments in harsh reality with her friends (wishing for intimacy with Santana- like a secret, safe.)
Brittany sighs in content- the warm water, Santana's warmer arms around her, Santana's warmer skin against her, Santana's warmer fingers trailing down her stomach, Santana's warmer lips pressing to her wet shoulder- all of it is too much and not enough. Brittany shudders as Santana sweeps Brittany's damp blonde hair aside, kisses the base of Brittany's neck, sucks at it, bites it gently, and Brittany feels her insides unraveling, wishing she could hold this moment frozen in time, that she could pretend forever. (It's always easier to notice something's gone once you've had it.)
Hands smooth over Brittany's hips, caress the soft sensitive skin of Brittany's inner thighs, and Brittany presses back into Santana, hearing the audible hitch in Santana's breathing by Brittany's ear. Brittany glances at the clock- it's 9:45pm- plenty of time before midnight, so she grips a tan wrist, pushes it down where it belongs, guides strong fingers between her legs and arches up desperately at the feather-light touch.
Touch me- please, Brittany gasps, shaking.
Britt-
Please, Santana- I want you so much.
And Santana acquiesces, strokes Brittany, presses into Brittany, and Brittany rocks her hips up as Santana cradles her in her warm arms from behind. And Brittany closes her eyes, and pretends that Santana's arms are real and not temporary, not fleeting, not gone in an instant. Santana pushes deep and builds Brittany slow, tenderly carrying her to the edge with one hand splayed on Brittany's toned stomach. Warm, full lips fervently kiss Brittany's shoulder, Brittany's neck- teeth tug at Brittany's earlobe, and Brittany struggles to remember to breathe, because she can't, she's suffocating, she's overwhelmed. She grips Santana's thighs, which are bracketing Brittany's hips, harboring them- her ass presses back into Santana, slips against Santana. Santana's so wet against her, Santana's hips buck forward automatically in response.
B, Santana groans in her ear, and Brittany knows Santana's unraveling, too. Brittany reaches behind her, lets her fingers tangle in damp, dark hair, twisting her head around to kiss Santana hungrily, sucking her tongue into her mouth, biting her bottom lip hard enough to elicit a gasp; she feels Santana losing herself in the kiss, feels Santana's fingers plunging into Brittany harder, faster, racing her to the edge.
Brittany comes with a shuddering cry in Santana's mouth, her hand tightens in Santana's hair, her back arches, but she slips her free hand between their bodies to stroke Santana to her release, which comes moments later, and Santana shakes behind her, moaning into Brittany's mouth in return.
Spent, they lie lazily in the tub holding each other for a long time. Santana plants warm, wet kisses on Brittany's shoulders, and Brittany hums in content, closing her eyes and relishing the moment. They feed each other fruit and tenderly wash each other (even though they were both clean before the bath) and when they're both completely pruney and the clock says 11:23pm when Brittany glances at it, they finally get out, taking the time to dry each other, stealing kisses along the way.
Santana gives Brittany a pair of Brittany's pajamas from her drawer (Santana still kept them, because unofficial doesn't mean official) and once dressed, they make their way out into the kitchen on slippered feet. Santana prepares two cups of hot chocolate (just the way Brittany likes it) and then they're grabbing a fluffy blanket and wrapping themselves up on the porch in Santana's backyard.
It's dark- Santana left the porch light off- but they're curled into each other, and Brittany doesn't need to see Santana's face to know that she's got a wistful, content smile on it, because it mirrors Brittany's own.
They sit in silence, sipping their hot chocolate, and Brittany doesn't worry about the Midnight Kiss. They don't have a watch to count down the minutes; Brittany doesn't care. She rests her head against Santana's shoulder, pressed to Santana's warmth, and just breathes her in.
When the first fireworks blaze into the dark night sky, Santana turns to her.
Happy New Year, B, Santana says, softly, and Brittany feels her chest tightening in longing.
Happy New Year, Brittany returns. Santana's eyes sparkle, reflecting the lights of the fireworks shooting into the sky, and Brittany tries to remember to breathe as Santana leans forward and captures her lips sweetly.
Brittany only hopes for Santana.
Aww. :)
Okay, the next chapter will be on the Thursday when Glee returns- and it will be Sadie Hawkins Dance themed, because no one gives two fucks about Bram going to a Sadie Hawkins Dance together, I mean seriously, what is that shit? LOL I can't even.
Anyways. Enjoy the short hiatus, and thanks for reading!
Review if you feel like it! :D
See you in a couple of weeks, dearies. :)