A/N: Final chap here. Hope it is satisfying :) thanks for all the reviews and love for this crazy universe
Professor Pierce
Five Months Prior, Planet Pluto: Grand Hotel Plutonan
Brittany waved to the screaming fans outside the Galaxeology Conference. It wasn't open to the public to enter but that didn't stop fans that knew she'd be the keynote speaker making the trip out onto the beautiful planet. People were waving for her to sign scans they held out and Brittany's pretty sure she already signed twenty of Mikayla McTavish's latest article (an article describing how the hottest duo Professor Pierce and Admiral Sextana pulled the plug on Seocho-mules, doing more to counter terrorism than the entire Anti-terrorist division of the Army).
Santana hated that article since it affected her work life since she was now probably the most famous Army officer in the Galaxy (it was between her and the guy who had a lazer implanted in his thumb), but Brittany knew that fame was just a short-term problem for Santana. In the long-term, it was promoting a hero – and in Brittany's eyes Santana was quite the hero. She was the epitome of humanity and more often than not in Brittany's sex dreams with a nothing but her lazer gun holster and Admiral jacket.
Drool.
The article was effectively awesome, though, timed well with Brittany's keynote address. It portrayed Brittany as quite the boss-ass-bitch with a brain that didn't quit, and obviously Mikayla had a huge thing for Santana because she gushed non-stop about how pretty Santana was when delivering roundhouse kicks against terrorist jaws.
Brittany totally agreed with Mikayla because Santana's hair would swing just so due to the physics attributed when beating people up. And her eyes! Oh how her got all 'bring it' and daring and just ugh…
"Sign me ass!" one guy jerks his butt out at her and hopes she'll listen to his Pluto accent, but before she can sign it to be nice, he's being carried away by robot security.
"That was new," she's a little disappointed she didn't get to do it, since she was usually asked to sign research scans (Santana always got the body part offers) before continuing down her path on the carpet.
Her hand is soon tired from all the signatures and she's all too eager for the conference to start. She loved communicating her ideas and seeing other people's ideas, and the open bar that made everything go by with a nice buzz of relaxation. And the live music was dope.
"Brittany!" someone calls out to her.
She twirls around, and it's that guy. That guy whose name she always forgets who she knows somehow…
"It's me, Artie?" He says to her awkwardly pointing at himself.
"Riiiight. Artie," she shakes his hand. "You're here at the conference… cool."
He puffs up his chest, "I'm presenting the cortex surgery – dissecting the mind and implanting information."
She eyes him dangerously. She absolutely detests that research and has a whole counter-speech planned for bringing it down when the idea will be discussed after the luncheon.
"Right… well, good luck with that," she tells him because she owes a fellow inventor at least the moment to think they'll be succeeding.
She doesn't feel bad about what's going to happen, though (when she inevitably crushes his project), because she owes the human species of the Galaxy ethical sciences. There were boundaries to what was and was not okay to do, and this conference played a huge part in discussing those ethics and what could be funded research.
/
After Artie has finished his presentation on how to use surgery to manipulate the brain (he was the last speaker of the evening, Brittany really enjoyed the guy before him who did magic tricks), the floor goes wild with scientists praising him and likewise criticizing him. No one really digs into him, though, and it makes her angry that her colleagues are ignoring the big picture.
When she's given the chance to participate she wastes no time in giving her opinion.
"The problem with you wanting to fund this research is its experimentation flaws. The only way you could successfully orchestrate this type of surgery would be by using living brains."
There's deafening silence after she speaks. Heads turn between her and Artie.
Artie stutters back, "n-no, I can use a freshly deceased brain if I-"
"No you can't, the brain is so delicate that as soon as it loses oxygen it malfunctions. If the purpose of your thing is to retrieve information stored in the brain you won't be successful with a dead one. I've cured strokes, I've performed neurosurgery through extreme trial and error, and it is my professional opinion that your research will be violating people experimentation. It's fascinating, yes, but it's wrong."
That stops any of the auctioneers at the conference from giving him funding, and Brittany assumes he's rational enough to understand the validity of being shut down.
/
After the first night of the conference and her epic shutdown of that guy – it was a weekend thing, so there was another whole day and a half to go through – she retreats to the accommodations provided by Planet Pluto's government. Everyone is set up with nice things but she gets even nicer things. Still, she is bored.
"Bored. Boring, boring, boooooring. I should invent a word that captures this feeling. Kiki, any ideas?"
"Admiral Lopez, Professor."
"She's not boring at all… are you malfunctioning?"
"No, Admiral Lopez is outside the room. I have recognized her voice."
Curious, Brittany approaches the door and hears the hushed whispering Kiki detected. Using the room's outdoor camera, she looks to see who is hanging outside the door and isn't surprised when it's Santana after all. Kiki had been wrong before, but she's happy that this is not one of those times.
Santana's apparently decided to go for incognito, because she's got a hood and dark eye-shades covering as much of her face as possible.
Brittany opens the door with a smile, and Santana doesn't say hi – she just storms in and keeps on talking on her earpiece.
"Yes, but you aren't listening to me – I'm her daughter and it's been years since she died and this legal shit is ridiculous! Yes, Lopez…. Santana Lopez, I'm an officer of the Army you can check my digitals on the directory… Yeah of course it would be under Lopez! C-7-89, Earth."
Brittany closes the door and listens with intrigue. She knows of Santana's mother (a doctor who was shot with a lazer through the head by a mugger when Santana was only fifteen). It was kind of something they had in common, as Brittany's fathers both died in an explosion when she was thirteen. Granted, she had already been a subject of research by the scientist Dr. Ogleworth but Dr Ogleworth committed suicide so then Brittany had no one and was kept in a government Earth orphanage where kids bullied her superior mind.
Santana had been closer to her parent than Brittany had to her parents and one drunken night that loss was a bonding moment Brittany will forever remember. Santana even hugged her. For a whole five point three seconds.
"YES, I'M THE FUCKING ADMIRAL SEXTANA DOES THAT SUDDENLY CHANGE YOUR ATTITUDE TOWARDS ME YOU-"
Brittany snatches the earpiece from Santana's ear and ducks Santana's reactive arm that tries to stop her as she takes over the conversation.
"Brittany!" Santana looks like she's thankful but also wants to lunge at her. Brittany gives her the 'hand' of 'wait, please.'
"Hi this is Professor Brittany Pierce, I am a certified lawyer and will save you from a headache by saying I will be representing this case. What are the official reasons for refusing a well credited and honourable Army Admiral her mother's belongings?"
Santana drops her arms from their tense raise, now on board with Brittany's insertion into the conversation, walking over to her and nodding encouragingly.
"Exactly, they refuse to even give me a proper reason! Ask her for a reason, Britt."
Brittany puts a hand on her shoulder to relax her and listens to the lawyer on the other end of the earpiece.
"Uh-huh… okay… Oh yeah, totally. Thank you for your support… aww that's sweet, I love talking to my fans… oh? She has a lot going on she also appreciates your support… uh-huh."
"What are they saying?" Santana whispers at her, pouting when Brittany mimes 'shhh.'
"Yeah no, I get it. But what I'm saying is you don't want your name cast in a negative light do you? Because that is bound to happen with all your blah-blah words and flattery trying to distract me. That static in the background suggest you're calling from South Main – yeah I'm a genius so obviously my ears are also genius. Yeah, anyways, we totally saved that place from a bomb - those have kind of become our specialty lately…so let me get this straight you're refusing Admiral Lopez the right to her mother's will and refusing to give a proper reason for doing so... yeah as her lawyer I'll be in touch to humiliate you. Bye."
Brittany hangs up after that and hands Santana her earpiece back.
"Look, that guy is dragging it out for his legal fees that's all, I'll send him an official memo-scan and he'll have your mom's stuff returned to you in an instant. Don't let it get you so angry, he's a moron and they still refuse to explain their reasoning which means you'll probs get some cha-ching payment for the fuck-up..."
Brittany can smell how nice Santana is and has to take a step back before Santana notices.
"Thanks," Santana now pulls her hood down and removes her shades, "This might be because I just found out that the stuff that was on her body has been in government possession this whole time and I didn't even know – I'm a motherfucking government ordained soldier and they keep my parent's stuff from me? There's something fishy there, right? He was really good at changing the subject… his breathing was all heavy like he was trying extra hard to stick to a script."
"Earth has an inefficient government, it's ritual."
"Ritual?" Santana asks.
"Butak word for method."
"Ah. Right. Well, all I'm after I my parent's keys. She had a key to an old storage facility in our family name and I wants it. There's like, photos and shit in there."
Brittany says, "well, if they still don't know what the hell they're doing I can probably break into your storage thing for you."
It was the right thing to offer, because Santana smiles at her. A real, honest, thankful smile. Brittany has to look away from it.
Santana is as unaware to the effects she has on her and starts looking around the room.
"Anyways, nice digs Professor. By the way, I managed to get in here with no one recognizing me so you owe me dinner Miss I betcha can't get in here without being recognized."
"Sneaking into a hotel is not that hard."
"It is when there's a group of people that have me on their t-shirts taking turns with a scheduled lookout anticipating my arrival to whisk you away on a mission. One of my colleagues even informed me that some fans tried to falsify a threat in order to meet me – us. What the fuck is wrong with them?"
"And are you?" Brittany asks her hopefully, "whisking me away on a mission?"
"No," Santana stresses, sitting down on the unmade bed with a scowl, "What, am I only allowed to visit unless I have a new mission?"
"Noooo," Brittany tries not to let the insane pleasure this gives her show too much. They only hang out during missions with the odd bar for fun (which even then only happens after a mission). "It's just never happened before so I made an assumption that you were here for one. Sorry."
"Don't be sorry," Santana collapses backwards on the mattress and closes her eyes, "I was getting bored out of my mind after my patrol shift, and nothing was on any entertainment channel and you did give me that VIP pass to this annual get-together of colossal nerds, so I figure why the hell not, right?"
"Awesome!' Brittany said to her friend. "Plus there's a party tonight to commemorate the organizer and stuff, you can be my plus one. Free drinks."
"Dress code?"
"Nah."
Santana looks contemplative at the offer, "well… it's either attend a nerdgasmic party with you and have something nice and cold to soothe my throat – I yelled at those imbecile border patrols because can you believe they almost let a guy with an illegal lazer cutter through? – or I could have a hot bath and enjoy peace and quiet, only to have to go the party anyways to help this pitiful hotel security wrangle the drunk dweebs back to their rooms. I heard the drinking is insane at these things."
Brittany laughs at Santana, "come on. Let's go. You'll have fun making fun of everyone."
Santana gives in easily then, "alright. I'm just going to get out of my disguise first."
They share a floater board (the small transporters used throughout the hotel) to get to Santana's room. Her room wasn't as nice as Brittany's due to last minute booking but it had a hanging leverage bar in the centre that Santana ported around for exercise.
"You've been exercising already?"
"I got to keep up with this Admiral shit," Santana says in complaint, "everyone wants to see me fail it feels like. You recommended I find a habit of focus – this is it.
Brittany touches the bar gently and imagines Santana using it easily with a brief memory of her own, recalling the few lucky times she's walked in on Santana hanging upside down and lifting her body up into crunches…
"I'm jealous of an inanimate object," Brittany removes her hand and sighs at her pathetic crush. "Awesome."
"You do gymnastics, right?" Santana has already ditched her hooded disguise and now wears a tank top with her military trousers. Those tight pants combined with her hair loose like that and Brittany's imagination starts up again.
In order to get her mind away from those dangerously seductive yet entirely hopeless thoughts, she starts telling Santana about her intended presentation for her keynote.
"So basically, you're demonstrating Kiki… I thought you said she still had flaws?" Santana says while using a fine-tooth hair accessory quickly through her shiny hair. "And that you were keeping her to yourself."
To her displeasure and relief, Santana puts her jacket on and covers up her slim, perfectly smooth arms.
"Uh yeah… I just, I'm only sharing the base. It will be an effective emergency tool in hospitals."
Santana nods and then gives her a look, "you alright, you seem out of it?"
"No, no, I'm fine… so how many chin-ups can you do?" Brittany is curious and she only asks because otherwise she was a moment away from being caught at leering.
"Enough," Santana gives her a searching look paused, "you want to go, Pierce? You trying to mess with me?"
Brittany goes along with banter because it's the one thing they can do together that doesn't let her feel unrequited, "I'm a gymnast and I have great upper body strength… I could totally mess with you."
"I know, I saw you dangle from a space-scraper for ten minutes… impressive."
"It was so kind of you to eventually help me down… maybe we can have a little competition before we head down?"
"You know, I can do thirty of these," Santana tells Brittany with mischief while starting to stretch and warm up her arms. "I'm an Admiral in the Army – I can't let a civilian beat me."
Brittany smiles coyly – she can do more than thirty, "well, I'm a highly self-trained gymnast and I'm not going easy on you. I can beat thirty with one arm."
Santana's face morphs into seriousness (exaggerated for fun) and she starts stretching her shoulders next, "okay, that's it. I'm wiping you on the floor. Bar, expand."
The contraption responds to her verbal command and elongates for enough room to have both people use it.
So, this was happening. Brittany forgoes warming up her arms like Santana and just eyes the bar's height and then Santana's height. "You sure this isn't too high for you, shorty?"
"Make all the short jokes you want, I will destroy you in about three minutes."
"Ohhh, Admiral Lopez has her game face on! Stop it, the Sextana is pouring out of you.""
"Ready?" Santana laughs at her joke and then bends down to prepare a jump, "on one! Three, two, one."
On one, Brittany hops up and grabs the bar the same time Santana jumps. They pull into the first chin-up and start counting together rout loud.
/
Brittany hooks her arm through Santana's right one, pulling her to the side of the hotel bar where they had gotten their first round of the night.
"Watch it," Santana grumbles over the rim of her drink, "my arm hurts from doing a hundred chin-ups."
Brittany chuckles, "you could have stopped at eighty like me, you just had to show off."
Santana gives her a triumphant smirk, "I'm an Admiral in the Army… we don't fuck around with this shit."
"You totally tried to throw me off with your 'I can only do thirty' bullshit. That was rude."
"Yeah, and you almost let go at thirty one because you thought I was done for it."
"I wanted to save you embarrassment because I believed your fib."
"And I wanted to see your embarrassment at being tricked by me," Santana clinks their glasses together. "That was fun."
"So I couldn't help but notice you have kept your pinky tattoo," Brittany points out. "I thought you were going to remove it."
"It's grown on me so, I'll remove it when I want to remove it. Let's grab another drink?"
Brittany is enjoying the oddly playful side to Santana tonight. Usually it takes her longer to get in such a mood and at least four drinks and a discussion about Myths of Pinkies, but tonight she's…
Tonight she's just happy, and the happiness is contagious.
"Not Rockets though," Brittany warns her – a joke since Rockets were the drink that caused them to get tattoos.
They have a couple of Pluto-tinis and Brittany thinks it's the best night of her life (every night she's with Santana and no planet is being threatened or whatever, it pretty awesome).
"Excuse me," a curt voice interrupts their giggling.
Santana squints her eyes at the man in front of them. He looks familiar but she can't really place him. She's just relieved he's not one of those Sextana-shirt wearing people that kept popping up from suspicious corners, trying to hug her.
"Martie," Brittany greets the man, quite politely.
He grits his teeth and glares at her, "It's. Artie. Artie Abrams. I would have thought that after you humiliated my life's work you'd at least be generous enough to remember that."
Santana lets her empty glass hit the side bar with a thunk when the guy turns hostile, and she opens her mouth to tell him off for being disturbing but Brittany steps in front of her and talks first.
"Sorry, but remembering the names of people who propagate cruel forms of experimentation are not high on my priority list. Maybe next time go with the timeless galactic problem of personal health and fitness? Just my advice."
Santana quirks her eyebrow at Artie's insulted face before following Brittany's walk out of the bar after dismissing him.
"That was bitchy of you… I liked it."
This gives Brittany a tingle of pleasure and she has to shake it off quickly so that she doesn't accidentally lunge at Santana and kiss her plump lips. There was a thirty-three percent chance of that happening.
"Nerd insults galore," Santana continues with a chuckle, "glad I came after all."
"He was spouting some insanely immoral shit and no one was catching on... it was borderline diabolical. Wait, are you going back up to your hotel room already?" Brittany asks since Santana has approached the flotation carriers that take people up to their rooms.
Santana gets on a flotation device, keying in her hotel validation number. "I'm feeling them Pluto-tinis. Plus I haven't slept for hours and over exercised today, I better nap before your speech tomorrow so I don't fall asleep… but, thanks for inviting me, Brittany. This is a nice break… I'm glad you're my friend."
It must be the Pluto-tinis giving Santana such nonchalance about verbally acknowledging how much Brittany men's to her as a friend. And it's nice, but it hurt Brittany's heart.
She wishes they could be more than friends, she wishes she could tell if Santana had ever or could ever think of her that way.
Like always, she gets afraid at the thought of just going for it and asking Santana something like 'yo, you're hot – I'm hot, we have compatible minds and you get me and I want your body on my body and we're each others only friends and your smile is so pretty it hurts want to date?'
"No problem," Brittany smiles, disappointed as always when their time together ends and she lets Santana friend-zone her. "Goodnight..."
Just saying goodnight didn't seem like enough, though, so Brittany speaks again, if only to have Santana with her a moment longer since the Admiral was in such a good mood.
"Wait! Um… put some ice and heat on those arms, to ease the muscle ache."
"Really? I was going to do more chin-ups, genius." Santana's sarcasm snaps back at her.
Brittany is pretty sure she had surpassed crush months ago… She was now more at the 'in love' stage.
"Such a genius, Brittany," she whispers to herself when Santana's gone. "Falling for the emotionally-random soldier and only friend you have ever made. Now you have another degree to add to your list, Masters in Pining, Doomed to End Poorly Love. Hmm… in acronym it makes P-D-E-P-L… in need another vowel in there…"
Santana wasn't an option, but the funder with the model's body giving Brittany hook-up eyes just might be a temporary cure, so Brittany goes back to the party.
She doesn't notice that Artie has snuck into the lobby area and stolen a pair of keys to a hotel bus. No one does.
Present Time, Earth: Brittany's Mansion
Santana stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She used Brittany's hand drier thingy to dry the champagne from her pants already and was staying in there to calm down before going back out. She smelled like champagne, but there were worse things to smell like when trying to get one's mack on.
"You got this," She told herself assertively, "it's Brittany… it's Brittany."
Her calming words worked, until the assuring 'it's Brittany' turned into panicking because it's Brittany.
She returns to the library with a deep breath of nervous swelling, and comes across the sight of Brittany in a hushed debate with Kiki.
"That's not romantic enough Kiki! Slower tempo." She was whispering to her interface.
Soft strums of musical chords start to fill the room and Santana's robotic arm betrays her stealth and observation of an adorably flustered Brittany by whirring loudly as it moves. The loud sounds cause Brittany to twirl on her heel and freeze when they catch sight of each other.
Brittany coughs, "you alright?"
Santana bites her bottom lip and nods slowly, "yeah, yeah I'm fine…"
Brittany takes a small step forward and pauses, so Santana takes a step forward of her own. Now they were only an arm's length away…
Santana's eyes notice the nervous wringing Brittany's fingers were doing to the fabric of her dress, and she feels her previous reassurance surface again. No more panicking, no more messing around. They were both nervous but they were both in this.
It's Brittany.
She steps forward again and hears Brittany's breath hitch at the established proximity.
Raising her left hand to cup Brittany's cheeks, Santana rolls forward on her toes and presses their lips gently together before backing away to see Brittany's response.
With an exhale that relieves a million of Brittany's dreams, Brittany then pulls her in by the hips for another kiss, keeping this one connected to a few more that all showed how much she had been wanting this.
Santana takes a step back and realizes that if her pants still reeked of champagne, now was a good time as any to take them off.
Five Months Prior, Planet Pluto – Grand Hotel Plutonan:
It's the next morning of the conference and Brittany is speaking first. Santana hadn't found Brittany in the hotel's dining hall where breakfast was served so she headed to the conference room to check it out and of course, Brittany was in there, prepping for her presentation.
Santana looks up in awe at the conference centre design. There was a circular seating arrangement with a thousand privileged seats that belonged to the greatest minds of the generation, all partaking in the Galaxeology-Con. An event to make the Galaxy a better place.
Right at centre stage (where Santana felt suited Brittany the most), poking and prodding the podium projector stood, in Santana's opinion, the greatest mind of those greatest minds. Professor in Aggregate, Brittany Pierce.
"Hey!" she slid down one of the centre rails with her butt instead of taking the stairs and jumped onto the stage where Brittany looked up from her hand's work. "Morning, Professor Blonde."
"Santana. Perfect. Pass me that thing that looks like a disfigured carnope." Brittany says with little surprise at her sudden entrance and more elation.
"Here," Santana passes what she thinks Brittany means and then looks at the auditorium from it's centre stage view, "Pluton architecture is what's up, hey? I like this."
"Pluto. It's called Pluto."
"It was called Pluto, Pluton, what ever. This is a sweet set up. You all pumped for your nerd orgy?"
Brittany gives the podium a smack with her hand, "Not really since I was expecting them to be up to date with software but this shit can't support Kiki's hard drive AT ALL."
"Woah," Santana was now staring directly above them, "what they hell is that?"
"It's art," Brittany responds. "Yes! Got it to work. I rock."
"It's… it looks like a…" Santana makes a grossed out face and finishes with a very judgmental, "vagina."
"You seem pretty grossed out at the thought of a vagina, are you sure you're Class-L? Anyways, it's supposed to be Idleheim's vortex of gravitational jeder, you know the canyon partition in a metaphor?"
Santana is too busy laughing now, "ha-ha a gravitational vagina is all I heard in that sentence – something you relate to I guess, huh?"
"Oh, good one," Brittany says at the jibe, impressed with Santana's burn.
"Moving on," Santana says as her laughter subsides, "you nervous?"
"No."
"Are you sure, because Kiki is your precious and your face is all red like it does when you get nervous."
The observation hits Brittany and it hurts. It hurts because she's only ever nervous when her feelings for Santana get confusing, and Santana is always oblivious… Santana making her nervous was getting five years old and frustrating and starting to become an emotional hindrance.
On one hand, it helped her throw herself into her work and perfect Kiki but still. It was hard.
"Let's go grab a drink in the lobby first," Santana, offers her, thinking that will help calm her friend down. "And this thing ends today so we can go to South Beach tomorrow. A proper vacation so I can get a little tan on my tan."
Now she has swimsuit visuals and needs them to not distract her before her speech, so she falls into her favourite pastime – making Santana roll her eyes with a change of subject and random facts.
They enter the breakfast area and take a seat at a table.
"You know, that giant gravitational jeder vortex-"
"Just call it what it is. A vagina."
"—is made of cement. Three tons, I think. It hangs in there using, ironically, the vortex's sublimation particles. "
"So it hangs with a gravity chord," Santana says back to her with interest, "how secure is it, though? I'll tell you, not very secure! Even thought it's cool."
"The chances of its chord giving way are one in a million though, the generator runs on North Solar energy, you know how hard that energy is to break. Someone would need a programmer, lots of time on their hands, a war-robot, highly classified codes that take ten hours to hack…"
"Where do they keep the generator for this place?"
"Why do you want to know?"
"Because if you just profiled a plan of attack and now I got a sick feeling and want to check it out. Seocho-mules aren't entirely done with their terrorist acts, Pierce."
"You are here to not Admiral so stop Admiraling. I doubt anyone is going to attack the generator of an entire planet because this planet is so off the terrorist radar and we need a mental break from thinking the worst of people, it upsets me a lot being so pessimistic, you know."
Santana nods, it was a far-fetched thought and she knew it. Brittany was right. They both needed a break from the bad guys and that break would never happen if they kept thinking attacks were going to happen every other day.
"Guess what, by the way? When I woke up there was this lady outside my room who claimed she's in love with me," she sounds irritated as she retells the event o Brittany, "that's proof of how shit security is. Stick close to me - everyone is staring at you. I hadn't anticipated the dangers of a habitual nerd gathering being so creepy."
"Hey, everyone in here is a professional, they'll leave you alone-"
"Oh my god it's Admiral Sextana!" A failure of an excited whisper proves Santana's point.
"You were saying?" She gestures the robotic waiter over and pages for some coffees.
Present Time, Earth: Brittany's Mansion
With Brittany's eyes trained on her, waiting for her next move, Santana kicks off her boots, one by one. Then she grabs the waistband of her military pants and unfastens the linking clip before tugging them down her legs and kicking them off. It wasn't as smooth as she hoped since they were super tight, but it's still sexy since the sound of them hitting the carpet of the library gives Brittany the cue to remember how to breathe.
Brittany lifts her dress off from the hem and tosses it away next, showing off her matching set of black, minimal lingerie.
Shyly, Santana toys with her jacket next. Taking this off meant she was only wearing a tank top underneath and that meant sleeveless. Sleeveless meant… her arm.
She knew Brittany had seen it before – the woman is the one who fucking attached it and made it – but still.
Brittany's hands are warm as they cover hers. She looks patient and understanding and then helps slip the jacket off her shoulders and down her arms.
Santana looks down, but her face is moved back up with a gentle kiss before she can stare at her arm's metal unattractiveness, wishing she had her real arm back to be able to feel Brittany with both hands, to love her properly and not suck at this.
"Don't make this about that," Brittany requests her in a gentle whisper after their lips part again. "It's not about that… I love you."
With those blue eyes looking at her and not giving a second thought about the fact that she didn't have a proper right arm, Santana is truly touched.
Brittany's arms encircle her waist, pulling her closer. She keeps her left hand on Brittany's neck, with her thumb massaging the side of Brittany's jaw.
Her robotic arm comes in handy when she uses it to rip off her tank top (so that they don't have to stop kissing when Brittany tries to lift it off).
But eventually she does stop kissing Brittany because she needs to let Brittany know, beyond a doubt, "I love you too."
Five Months Prior, Planet Pluto: Grand Hotel Plutonan
Brittany had been speaking, giving her presentation to a riveted crowd. Then there was a noise, much like rust and squealing engines.
She looked up and the cement art sculpture that hung above and had been the cause of Santana's laughter earlier was showing signs of starting to fall. People were panicking and running around because just then, a loud explosion set off outside the conference door as well.
Brittany was running to escape death of concretious tons but that thing was gong to fall on her.
Of course, Santana body checks her off the stage and into a row of auditorium chairs. She knows how close it was, she knows that thing was going to crush her skull, and she knows Santana saved her life – but she's frightened and mad that Santana put herself in danger like that.
It's scarier to think Santana is dead than to almost die.
"Santana! Santana!" she coughs as dust hovers around, blocking her vision, and ignores the screams of help from people above her because she hears a more important scream of pain coming from the cloud of dust.
It's good because it means Santana is alive but it physically hurts her, hearing that much pain be let out in a scream when she knows who is the one feeling it.
"Santana?" the dust settles and she waves it away from entering her lung. She sees Santana's body – yes, alive – her legs moving but her face…
The extreme anguish on her face propels Brittany into great terror as she realizes Santana is pinned by some of the cement.
"Ahhh!" Santana's face is becoming pale and now streaming with tears of agony, "Brittany! Get it off, get it off!"
She gets on her knees and puts a hand against Santana's chest, trying to keep her still, "shhh, shhh." It's just your arm, it' just your arm."
This helps her calm down because Santana was still alive and she could be saved, Brittany was going to get her out.
"Kiki-" Brittany calls out desperately to the traveling prototype that was not as advanced as the interface she used at home, but still helpful. "Find emergency first aid in this hotel, strongest painkillers-"
"It hurts," Santana's voice confesses as the pain clearly becomes too much, "I think… Brittany I think my arm is… oh my God, my arm is… pinned under the…"
"It's okay, you're okay," Brittany's hands trembles as she touches Santana's hyperventilating face. "I've got you. Hang in there."
Her sentence is cut off when something blunt hits her body, and it hits her worse than Santana's tackle had, freezing her into a paralysis of pain.
"Watch the head," she hears a familiar voice, "that brain is all that matters. It's got to be alive, doesn't it Professor?"
She hears Santana scream for her and feels herself being carried away. If her lips weren't frozen she'd scream back, because if that was the last time she ever saw Santana it was probably the only chance she'd ever get to tell her she loved her.
Present Time, Earth: Brittany's Mansion
Santana groans in pleasure as Brittany's tongue meets her own with a slow stroke. Their kisses were starting to lose the initial shy factor and it had now become pretty obvious they both needed more.
Her right hand's fingers grabbed the edge of the desk Brittany had twisted her against and the way Brittany's hands were now entrenched in her hair make her grip into the old wood hard.
"You have the best hair," Brittany says to her breathlessly before taking her lips and tongue with another moan of bliss.
Santana kisses her back because stopping now is oh-so hard, and slips her left hand up the back of Brittany's neck into to cradle her head, and then drags it back down the trills of Brittany's spine.
They kiss even harder, and Santana hears a crack.
"Britt," She backs out of the kiss and tries to speak, only to have her lips taken again and her scalp massaged thoroughly while Brittany presses her leg up in between Santana's legs.
The crack happens again.
"Wait, s'bad idea," she manages to finally say, which ends up producing terribly hurt eyes of blue and the immediate retraction of the fingers in her hair. "No, I mean –ugh! This isn't a bad idea," she grabs Brittany's dress and tugs her back in, kissing her cheek.
Brittany relaxes and looks where Santana is gesturing to her hands holding a broken corner of the desk. "I accidentally… Sorry," Santana says feebly.
Brittany looks like she doesn't care about the desk – because she doesn't - and just nods, "It's okay, don't be sorry… I was getting a little carried away, I'm sorry."
"No, don't be sorry I was the one getting carried away-"
"Santana, if this is… I mean… do you want to stop?"
"Galaxies, NO," Santana says seriously. "Brittany, we… how about… like, your bed?"
"Right, yeah," Brittany murmurs, in a hypnotic daze once again as their eyes make contact and fall into that sappy trance of love again.
Slowly they lean towards each other and meet in another soft kiss.
"I think…" Brittany says between kisses, "that… I… forgot to… make… my bed…"
"The couch, then," Santana says unhelpfully since Brittany's legs have hit the back of the couch and she's already fallen back to sit on it.
Santana stands between her legs and, although Brittany is upset that she can't reach into the black hair of divine silkiness from this position, she's able to move things along to a place she's fantasized about a hell of a lot by letting her fingers trace Santana's ribs.
Above her, Santana shivers as Brittany's lips graze her stomach. She doesn't apologize for getting carried away here, along the contours of Santana's abs. Santana sighs in pleasure, tilts Brittany's head up and bends down over her for another kiss. She needs more, so she pulls Santana down to come closer.
Brittany slides backwards to make room and closes her eyes when the body of her dreams ends up on top of her, one leg between hers – so close to her. The leather squeaks a little as Santana's knees and arms sink down followed by the dip of her body to lie flat against Brittany, but those sounds don't compare to the heavy breathing between their lips' breaking off and joining again and again.
Five Months Prior, Planet Pluto: Hotel Conference Room
"Kiki," Santana rasps out to see if the prototype was working, but the war-robot that had kidnapped Brittany with Artie crushed it after Artie synthefroze Brittany and kidnapped her.
It was just mushed metal now, probably unresponsive to vocal commands. The small hard drive Brittany worked so hard on for so long…
Brittany.
She had to get out of here. If the generator was down and if power was out then the Army would asses methodically, taking their time to get in touch with the Planet and help would probably be too late… and Brittany brain was going to become that jealous bitch's-
"Nnnngggaaaaah!" She yells out in a futile and frustrating attempt to pull her arm from it's pinned position.
The cement had crushed her the entire limb, she was pretty sure it was useless and… and it was gone anways so…
Artie had left just moments ago – she had to act quickly.
She reaches with her left arm and pulls out a small pocket lazer from her boot. With a flick, it's less than impressive blade glows and she knows what she has to do.
She jams the blade at her shoulder, only to retract it quickly when burning pain won over and made her stop.
This was going to be rough, but no one heard her yells for help or her screams of pain. It was her all alone, and this was all she could do to try and save Brittany… so, with a deep breath and renowned anger, she stabs at her shoulder again and starts to cut off the arm in a trembling sawing motion.
/
Santana pukes as she stumbles out of the hotel on the street. The sextana shirt wearing fans had also fallen victim to whatever got everyone inside. They weren't dead but knocked out unconscious. No one woke up if she tried to make them and she didn't waste time trying to understand that, instead she picked up a stray sextana shirt and kept it against her bleeding, limbless, shoulder.
"He took the bus," she says out loud, realizing it might be that simple to follow him if it left behind a trail.
A bus was parked there earlier and now wasn't – she remembered it because it belonged to the hotel and was one of two vehiculars in the vicinity as all others were left in guest parking five miles away – where her jet was.
Artie must have used it to escape and take Brittany to wherever the hell he went. And if he left in a bus, she'd need her jet to stop him.
Kiki's destroyed hard drive was in her grip and she was using the leftover energy in it to jump-start her wrist key for the jet. Her wrist key cut off when the generator was stopped, because the solar energy was a wireless power source system used for all planets, but not Kiki. Kiki was Brittany's reserved power device and it didn't need a generator.
"Come on, come on…" she feels so desperate and hopeful for this to work, and then, "Yes! Brittany Pierce you fucking genius!"
It works. She hits 'emergency summon' on her key, causing the distant engines of her jet to arrive from the air parking it had been left in.
When the Jet stops in front of her, she has to try really hard to get inside. With one arm and so much pain coursing through her body she all but collapses into her pilot seat and fights fainting. She has to move.
The bus pathway could only go South so she grabs her steering handle and heads south towards Pluto's blue sand desert.
"Use emergency communications," she barks, her voice worn out from all the pained screaming.
"Using emergency communications."
"Telegram code 917 to East Pluto, thousands estimated injured through inhalation of gas caused by explosion. Ad-" her voice cracks and she swallows thickly, "Admiral C-7-89 in pursuit of suspect."
"Communication sent."
What was that thing Brittany said about bus emissions? They leave behind… they…
She tries to keep her eyes open and herself conscious.
"Access video."
"Accessing video."
"Search for key words: bus emissions."
"Search has found one documented video."
"Play it."
She stops the jet when it comes to the end of the set path, where there's endless sands and no way of knowing which way the bus went.
The video plays, and Brittany's voice filters in through the speakers.
"That old petrol is actually burning the skin which is why it irritates when inhaled directly. The skin regenerates though, but if you used a UV light you'd be able to see a blue film of shimmering – oh look Santana! A shooting star. Let's follow it."
"No, let's not."
Santana feels a sudden burst of energy as more hope to be able to save Brittany after all builds up with this information. She mutters under her breath excitedly, "UV light, UV light – ah ha!"
Brittany had tweaked an extra strong UV beam into the left headlight and she had never needed the useless thing (it was a total pimp-out of the jet), until now.
It shines brightly into the dark sand but she sees nothing in front of her. She moves the beam left – nothing again.
"Come on…" she moves the beam right and, sure enough, a blue shimmering is disappearing into the darkness. She programs the jet into it's highest speed (that was illegal to do on any planet), and follows the emission trail all the way to – of course – some abandoned warehouse with the bus parked outside.
/
Unknown Abandoned Warehouse: Location of Artie's Diabolical Plan
Brittany feels groggy as she awakes, and her body is bursting with pain. With a wince she spits out the unwanted tang in her mouth and watches blood splatter along the floor that her cheek is pressed against.
If her jaw could move, the synthefreeze was slowly wearing off. Maybe twenty minutes had passed since she was hit it with, it didn't last that long in the body.
So she's on the floor, and her jaw hurts like a bitch, but she can talk. Maybe she can talk her way out of this? Ten percent chance he'll have an evil monologue long enough for the freeze to wear off.
"You're awake," a familiar voice greets her. "Good. You need to be awake for the procedure, that way there's higher brain activity to capture, isn't that right?"
Her body is lifted by a rare, war-robot and placed in a chair. She feels sluggish and realizes her arms and legs are paralyzed.
"Sorry that the synthefreeze doesn't prevent pain... Then again, you know that, don't you? You know everything."
She hadn't pegged this guy for a psycho, but it turned out that he was. A mistake of judgment she regrets already like no other. She can hear her conversation with Santana that morning hanging over her like a kick when she's already down.
The generator. This motherfucker was smarter than she thought. He cut off the generator.
"I invented it," her lips move stiffly to say this and she's able to see him now as her sight stops blurring. He's standing off to the right, smirking at her.
He laughs, "You think you're so smart, saving lives and innovating every goddamn thing! Well, Professor Pierce, you won't be so precious when you disappear."
"Santana?" She asks, not really thinking about her inevitable doom, but hoping this psycho had enough humanity left in him to grant her the information.
He laughs some more, "I left her as I found her, she's alive. For now."
No generator meant no communications. No communications meant Santana was stuck, in pain, and could very well die. And Brittany couldn't do anything about it.
"I'm afraid it'll be too late by the time government is informed," Artie snaps on surgical gloves and says with no empathy, "I rigged the lobby with concentrated knockout gas, once my bomb went off and people tried to evacuate, they got a whiff of it. I planned a perfect kidnapping, even you with all your intelligence couldn't stop me."
She doesn't want things to end like this, "please, just… you got away with me, send someone back for her. Please."
"Why should I grant you a last wish, Professor? I'll have already taken your brain apart, leaving you a lobotomized, dead failure of intelligence. And your good friend the Admiral doesn't matter to me. Soon I'll have all the secrets to that-" his finger pokes her forehead with jealousy, "brain. I'll be unstoppable. I'll rule the galaxy."
"Look Gartie-"
"IT'S ARTIE!" His scream of fury echoes in the room she's been brought to and his fingers lift a small electrical handsaw to her forehead.
Brittany's life flashes before her eyes as Artie gets closer to her, his electrical handsaw just an inch away from her cranium. She can feel it cutting into her skin, and can smell her own blood. It's the end, so she allows herself a moment to picture what makes her truly happy.
She closes her eyes and sees an unzipped Army jacket and shiny black hair. Santana's is smirking at her on the University campus, looking self-confident and beautiful – and it works, the pain stops.
But then she realizes the noise of the saw has also stopped and opens her eyes.
Artie's choking and struggling because an arm is holding him by the neck from behind. His war-robot is shut down and Brittany sees and hears the sickening crack of his neck breaking as the arm jerks it in a killer motion.
He's dead instantly, and his body hits the ground with a thud.
Santana looks at her and tries to smile, only to faint right away. Brittany still can't move, and the more she tries the more the pain in her head pounds. She's mental with worry that Santana is fatally injured – or worse dead since she can't hear breathing – and forgets she's got blood leaking out of her head which pushes her into unconsciousness too.
Present Time, Earth: Brittany's Mansion
Santana felt incredibly tender and content with the position of her mostly nude body lying on top of Brittany. Brittany's hands slid down her hips and circled around to her lower back. Her fingers started to slip down, and hooked into the waistline of her purple G-string.
She had been kissing Brittany's neck gently and moved to gently suck under her flushed ear, whispering, "You're getting nervous..."
Brittany nods, "yeah. You make me nervous."
Santana has an epiphany of all interactions past and she feels so, so slow. But more than that, she knows she owes it to Brittany to not be dense anymore now that she was aware of Brittany's feelings.
"That's sweet," she offers, kissing Brittany's lips and showing her what strokes her tongue can do.
Five Months Prior: Planet Pluto, Unknown Abandoned Warehouse Location of Artie's Diabolical Plan
When she awakes, Brittany feels the wetness of her own blood dripping down her face.
She can move though, even if her body is numb and her legs wobble. She almost trips but reaches Santana's body. Dropping to her knees, she gently rolls Santana over to see what's wrong with her.
What starts as relief because Santana's chest is rising and falling to prove she's alive, turns to dread when she realizes Santana… only has one arm.
She feels tears burn her eyes and hates how her brain is able to put together the shoddy hand-cuts of a certain pocket lazer when she removes the shirt wrapped around the severed part.
With a shaky breath, she hooks her arms under Santana's body and tries to lift her. It wouldn't be so hard if the synthefreeze wasn't fucking her motor skills up, but she needs to get her help.
She lays Santana down on the dark blue sands outside, breathing heavily in exertion. She tries the jet latch but it's overheated and out of fuel after she inspects the tank. The latch doors are locked– she couldn't access the first aid in there.
Santana's breathing is slowing down, she's lost a lot of blood and Brittany needs to think fast.
Brittany re-enters the warehouse, unsympathetic eyes trained on Artie's dead body, before looking around at his experiment tools to see if he had anything to open the jet. Nothing. His skull-saw couldn't even dent the metal of a space fighter jet.
She starts to feel like she's out of options until she sees the limp metal of the war-robot.
The war-robot had rare titanium alloy with minerals that helped reproduce blood when boiled at exactly –
Brittany swallows thickly. How would she boil it though? Handsaw electrical wiring!
She grabs everything she can, running back and forth quickly. The robot, Artie's surgery tools, and the leftover synthefreeze in his lab coat's front pocket are all dumped next to Santana's body that has started going into septic shock.
"Shit! Shit! Okay," she takes a deep gulp and carefully applies enough synthefreeze to numb Santana's right shoulder. "It's either you die or I give your body a boost to stay alive since your organs are failing... I don't think you'll mind having a rare titanium, robot arm. I stare at your arms a lot so… I'm pretty sure I'll get the size right…"
Santana is unresponsive and Brittany mentally steels herself to do what she's about to do. Even if Santana can't hear her, talking to her out loud is helping her stay focused.
"Santana, you saved me and now I'm going to save you… don't worry, you won't feel a thing."
Santana's breathing gets dangerously quiet and her body stops convulsing.
"I can't live without you, you can't die… please don't die…"
Brittany doesn't have a degree for experimental war-robot powered organ and robotic limb surgery in a desert, but she sure as hell was not about to let Santana die.
Present Time: Brittany's Mansion
"Are you okay?" Brittany asks, sweetly, when they've managed to remove everything that covers them.
Skin against skin, Brittany can hear Santana's heart beat so fast…
"Yeah," Santana answers back with a fond smile.
Her gaze drifts from Brittany's eyes down to her lips and neck. Her brown eyes are big and needy, and she leans her body weight onto her right side before sliding her left hand along Brittany's rib cage.
Brittany bites her bottom lip when those warm, promising fingers dip lower to between her legs.
She tries to keep eye contact with Santana – she's enraptured with the way the woman of her dreams is looking at her with adoration – but when fingers enter her she powerless. She closes her eyes and welcomes the sensation.
Her fingers gravitate back to Santana's hair and then pull the head above her down so they can kiss, again as fingers go deeper. She bucks up into Santana with gasp.
The couch slides a few inches from the movement, and Brittany her some fabric rip near her ear but doesn't really care. A titanium arm was bound to tear soft leather.
She starts moving her hips against Santana's hand with increased pace while Santana nuzzles into her neck, and then they both start moving their bodies together.
The couch starts to quake, and Brittany fumbles between their bodies when she feels Santana's wetness against her thigh. Oh how she wanted to touch it.
Santana is gasping into her ear and then furiously starts to kiss her lips.
The pace becomes faster and Santana leaves her lips to press their forehead together while the rhythmic thudding of the couch's wooden legs echoes the gyrating of their hips.
Brittany moves her free hand down to squeeze the ass. She can't believe she hasn't done that once yet this entire night (she's seen that butt's firmness and wanted to touch it in so many scenarios).
Santana starts to shudder and moan, and Brittany's jaw drops open with a moan of her own immense pleasure.
The couch legs give out with the last thrust, and Brittany's orgasm is out of this galaxy.
Five Months Prior: Planet Pluto, Unknown Abandoned Warehouse Location of Artie's Diabolical Plan
Brittany keeps her arms securely around Santana's shivering body, feeling how it was alive. The surgery kept those organs alive with her heart in a strong beat as it was synched to the robot's leveraging wire in an artificial pacemaker.
She was alive.
She raises her head when a siren signals something approaching them – it's an emergency paramedic shuttle. They finally found the sonic signal she sent using the hotel bus's battery.
"Professor," one of the three attendants calls out to her and rushes forward with several floating stretchers behind him. "Are you injured?"
"Head trauma," she says, gently disentangling from cuddling Santana's torso, "but she needs immediate medical attention."
"It's just you two?"
"One deceased inside."
"Is…" one his comrades, speaks out with absolute shock in her voice when she nears them and points at Santana, "is that a…"
"Woah…" the other paramedic says in awe, "it's like a real arm but… it's metal."
"No shit," the first one hisses at him. "Is… she hooked up to a robot?"
"Yes, yes, and yes to all of your questions. You carry the robot, you help me lift her on the stretcher, and you please charge the communicator on her wrist so I can fly that jet and follow you guys."
They stare at her slack-jawed.
"I need to use the bathroom so… please hurry up?"
Present Time: Earth, Brittany's Mansion
Brittany revels in the tingles coursing through her body, out of breath and clutching Santana's equally panting figure to her tightly.
Santana then made a displeased sound – making Brittany fear something was wrong now that they had done the deed.
"Are you okay? Are you hurt?"
Santana pushes herself up with both of her arms after pulling her fingers out. Brittany doe the same and suspects that when someone doesn't have sex for a long time, things down there are bound to be a little sore.
But Santana just rolls her eyes, "I'm not hurt – stop worrying."
Brittany pouts, "so even when I bit your shoulder – that didn't hurt? Promise?"
"That wasn't even a bite, that was you trying not to scream cuz I was giving you the best orgasm your gravitational vagina every got."
"It was pretty good," Brittany giggles, reaching up to brush Santana's hair aside. "How was yours?"
"Perfect," Santana says to her, with a wide smile that is both bashful and heartfelt.
Brittany smiles back, "yeah?"
Her hands travel greedily back up Santana's body from hips to back and shoulders, feeling it with more attention. She was still in minor disbelief that this was all hers.
Santana melts into her and squirms a little but ultimately lets out another groan of discomfort.
This time, Brittany is able to realize why and starts laughing.
"It's not funny," Santana says, because her right arm has gotten stuck inside the thick foam of Brittany's memory leather couch they did it on.
It gets funnier though, because when Brittany sits up and Santana tries to roll over to let her, her arm sinks further into the mattress. There's a 'riiiiiip' and then the final thunk of her fist hitting the library floor.
"Okay, try not laugh too much," Santana says with warning, "but I'm naked and stuck inside your couch that we just broke."
Brittany covers her mouth, and betrays her love by emitting a snort that soon turns into amused laughter.
She feels an annoyed jab in her ribs from a finger and gets up onto her feet to escape it, letting her laughter settle into a large smile that's was more due to Santana being naked than Santana being stuck and naked.
"I have a couch arm," Santana says, now grumpy with being stuck and struggling to free her arm. "How the hell is it I can rip through the couch but not out of it? Stupid-"
"The foam retracts into memory and is gluing to you. Here," Brittany walks back to her, holding up the ancient Garpajeen dagger she found on an archival retreat years ago. She hung it on the wall for decorational purposes.
Santana looks at her and stops trying to free her arm instantly. Brittany is gorgeous and it takes her breath away for a moment now that she allows herself to really look at her.
Raising her eyebrows because of the look she was getting, Brittany slides onto her side with the dagger to mirror Santana's position. She enjoys being watched like that. She stabs the dagger into the couch and tears apart the foam around Santana's arm. "Be quick."
Santana takes it out fast, and it makes that loud whirring noise again. "Thanks…"
Brittany looks at the metal arm and reaches over to pick off pieces of memory foam still stuck to it. "I can fix that…. I think that was why I invited you over, wasn't it?"
"Was it?" Santana watches Brittany's fingers leave the arm to tickle her shoulder and then boldly trail over a breast. Her eyes watch Brittany's fingers.
"I can't believe we haven't done this yet either," Brittany murmurs, scooting closer again.
"You have a checklist?" Santana's breath gets shaky at the fluttering, appreciative touches over her chest.
"Oh yeah," Brittany confesses, leaning over to whisper it.
Clearing her throat, Santana leans over and kisses the professor. They break it off and stare at each other, an understanding passing between them.
"Um… I'll grab us some robes." Brittany comes back with some of her Univesrity of Earth robes – one from Law and one from Medicine. Santana smiles at her as she puts the black Law one on and ties it around her waist.
"Thanks. Um, I can cook you something since the one thing you do suck ginormously at is preparing food…" she rubs her neck and looks down at her feet shyly.
Brittany counter offers, "that's sweet and I'll totally take you up on that next time… but I have those lava cakes you love if you'd rather-"
"Oh – the fried chocolate ones?"
"Yeah."
"Yes, please," Santana surprises her, then, by taking her hand and leading her to her own kitchen. "I could eat like ten of them right now."
Brittany twirls her hair at the gesture and glances back at the library. The record she had Kiki put on is long since over, their clothes lay about, and the couch looked like it had been the victim of Galaxy-shattering sexual hip bucking, a titanium alloy fist, and an ancient dagger.
"You know, I'll just make a better couch out of that couch," Brittany says as they leave the library with. "Kiki – heat up those lava cakes and brew some coffee. Okay, Admiral Lopez, let's see that arm."
"This how it's gonna be from now on," Santana takes a seat on one of the two levitating kitchen stools and removes the metal arm from it's robe-sleeve, holding it out, "late night snacks with kitchen operations?"
Brittany laughs at her and snaps her fingers in an eight beat precise tune, causing her personal toolbox to be delivered to wherever she snapped from by Kiki.
Santana watches her dig through it and poke her forearm part of the limb.
"You know, if your body wasn't so toned I could have taken excess skin and regrafted it over."
Santana shrugs, "I know, but that's okay. You did what you could."
Brittany does something that makes a spark fly out and jolt Santana's arm a little. "There. No more noise. See how easy that was?"
Santana tests it out and it's silent. She wiggles the fingers and again, silence.
"But, there's the possibility of cloning your skin and growing it to fit over-"
"Ewwwww," she says with her face looking sour, "like a skin glove?"
"It's your own skin though, but yeah," Brittany sys with excitement. "So many things we can do it. Your nerves there are lost, but maybe if I can clone your other arm and use those nerves-"
Santana rolls her eyes as Brittany goes on about her ideas, not annoyed since she was also smiling. She could listen to that blonde talk all day, everyday.
The lava cakes and coffee are delivered by Kiki and they both dig in, occasionally looking up from their food to smile bashfully at each other and not-so-secretly bask in the results of the evening.
"Yum," Santana breaks the silence after brushing the corner of her mouth free of a crumb, "thanks for, uh, that."
"You're always welcome," Brittany leans forward flirtatiously. "I'll even give you your own snapping finger code to summon lava cakes from Kiki whenever you want… since I hope you'll be staying over more often..?"
Before Santana can answer, Kiki interrupts them.
"Professor Pierce-"
"Not now Kiki," she calls out irritably to her household interface's interruption.
"As per your request I am informing you of a Code-S violation."
This makes her sigh and give in, "Okay fine, Admiral Lopez and I are going to get dressed to deal with it, yeesh. Get my shit ready."
"Your things will be ready in approximately two minutes."
Santana turns back to Brittany, "Code-S?"
"When the Army pings you for a mission I hear about it because I hacked your file."
"Ah…" Santana grins, "that's helpful. Since I'll be staying here more often."
She walks off to the library where her pants and jacket are, telling Brittany she's going to borrowing a shirt.
Brittany lets out a happy sigh before getting up following her. Life just got worth living.
Fin.