X
it's never ending but nevertheless
I'm the first one to second my guess
and the fire in my heart came from ash and ember
- Augustana
X
''Ugh, who does a girl gotta fuck to get a drink around here,'' Santana grumbled to herself as she sat alone at the edge of a bar.
After leaving the diner, she had decided to wander around the neighborhood a bit. She was still slightly frazzled and had thought a drink would calm her down. It was only after walking around for fifteen minutes and figuring there probably wasn't a bar within walking distance that wasn't totally gay that she decided to walk into one at random.
It was filled with a mixture of both men and women and seemed to cater to a wider variety of people than some of the other niche places she passed by. Usually whenever Santana snuck into bars or clubs she never had any trouble getting guys to curl up in the palm of her hand, clamoring over each other to be the one to buy her drinks. She knew how to use her smile, as well as her many other assets in order to get what she wanted out of people. Unfortunately none of her usual flirty tricks worked here as no one seemed to be paying her or her short skirt any mind (except for one young female waitress, but one look from her and Santana nervously headed in the other direction). Not that she needed that kind of male attention anymore but batting her lashes had always been her sure-fire way to score a drink. Now with an aggravated huff she realized she was going to have to buy her own tonight.
She was in the process of digging through her clutch for her fake I.D. when she sensed someone take a seat on the barstool to her right. ''My oh my, what a small world seeing you here,'' came a raspy voice.
Santana didn't even have to turn to know who that voice belonged to. Because it's just exactly what her night needed.
Mysterious fucking Marilyn.
Santana turned and found herself face to face with the psychic. Mysterious Marilyn was rather tall and distinguished with thick, dark hair running just past her shoulders. Her outfit was rather loud and somewhat dated, it looked like a glittery evening gown from the early 90's and yet the way she owned it worked for her in the most peculiar way. Aside from her stature and gaudy accessories though the most interesting, unique thing about Mysterious Marilyn, the thing that made you take immediate notice of her, was her voice. Her voice was deep, raspy and oddly charming.
It was only an hour or so ago that she and Brittany had crossed paths with the woman on Liberty Avenue. The psychic had been standing in front of a club with a small crowd of people surrounding her, making them laugh while handing out her business cards and urging them to pop into her newly opened shop down the block. Marilyn knew how to command an audience and was entertaining all those who stopped to hear her sell her services. She even went so far as to give a few free readings. Brittany had insisted they stop and watch one and happily accepted the card Marylin offered her, of course Santana managed to drag them away when Marilyn took an interest in her, or rather her make-up techniques.
''Look no offence or whatever,'' Santana said, turning to the psychic and addressing the woman with false cheer, ''but I'm not buying whatever it is you're trying to sell me with your cards and your Ouija board. I don't have much cash on me and what I do have, I plan on using to get shit-faced which is bound to be much more enjoyable than listening to you tell me about my past life, okay?''
For her part Mysterious Marilyn didn't bite, didn't lash out or retreat at this. She just smiled at Santana and said, ''It's in your bra.''
''What?'' Santana scrunched up her face, confused.
''Your bra.''
''Um...''
Marilyn turned to wave at the bartender and mouthed 'my usual' at him before looking back to Santana, clarifying, ''That fake I.D. you're looking for, it's not in your clutch, it's in your bra.''
''Right. Yeah.'' Santana clicked shut said clutch and looked the tiniest bit embarrassed when she reached into her cleavage and suddenly remembered that yep, she had put her fake I.D. in her bra at the beginning of the evening. ''How'd you know that?''
''I'm Mysterious Marilyn...I know everything.''
''Whatever. Lots of women keep their valuables in there, so,'' Santana said lamely in an attempt to save face.
''So what's your name honey? I didn't catch it earlier on the street.''
''I thought Mysterious Marilyn knew everything.''
''Mysterious Marilyn sometimes only receives the cliffsnotes.''
''Does Mysterious Marilyn always speak in third person?''
''Often times, yes,'' Marilyn replied playfully. ''And who says I'm trying to sell you anything? This just so happens to be one of my haunts. You're the tourist, sweetheart.''
''And how do you know that-oh, wait, because you're the all knowing Mysterious Marilyn, huh?'' Santana remarked.
''That, and because only a tourist would walk into this bar thinking they'd turn any man's head with those things.'' Marilyn made a small nod of her head, indicating Santana's ample chest.
''Yeah, well, thought it couldn't hurt to try.''
''Tell you what though, since tonight I'm feeling somewhat charitable why don't I buy you a drink and in return you tell me what's gotten your aura in a tizzy,'' Marilyn bargained as the bartender came to set a drink down in front of her while he only provided Santana with a complimentary bowl of peanuts which she inspected before wrinkling up her nose in disgust and pushing it aside, only for Marilyn to commandeer the bowl of snacks for herself.
''My aura?''
''Your essence, your chi, your life force, whatever you wish to call it.''
''A crock of shit is what I wish to call it.''
Marilyn raised her shoulders as if in defeat and popped a peanut into her mouth with an elegant flourish of her hand. ''If that's how you want to be, okay. Here I was offering to buy you a drink and allow you to experience my services for free. I only offered because I could see it from across the room...''
''See what exactly?''
''That you, my dear, are lost.''
Santana let out a stilted laugh. ''Listen, sir-lady-whatever, you don't know me.''
''No. No, I don't, that's true,'' Marilyn conceded gently, ''but I don't think you know you either.''
''And this is important to you because...?''
''It isn't really. It's just that I can't help but be intrigued by you. I don't see very many of you often.''
''Many of who?''
''Whom, and you'll see,'' said Marilyn, smirking at some tidbit of knowledge she apparently wasn't sharing with Santana.
''What the hell does that mean?''
''Does this mean we have a deal? A drink for a reading?''
''Whatever.''
Santana exhaled and looked around the bar. Figuring there was no one else to talk to, nothing else to keep her occupied and distracted on this little excursion of hers she thought why not. It had the possibility of being mildly entertaining and the experience would definitely be ripe for mockery, plus she was getting a drink out of it.
''Fine, Miss Cleo, a drink for a reading,'' Santana said in agreement.
Marilyn smiled like a cheshire cat and then once again got the attention of the bartender several yards away and silently requested another drink, indicating with her hand that this one would be for Santana. The man winked kindly at the psychic before coming to place a drink down in front of Santana.
''It's totally unfair that in this joint you somehow get hit on more than me,'' gripped Santana who after taking a sip suddenly changed her mind about something to nibble on. She reached for a peanut. Her hand was promptly swatted away by Marilyn. ''Ow, damn, your nails are something fierce.''
''Get your own bowl, you gave this up.''
''Fine, geez.'' Santana scoffed before locating a bowl a chips for herself a few feet down the bar. ''Alright, let's get this over with already. What exactly do I have to do?''
Marilyn looked greatly pleased as she gingerly dusted her hands off and wiggled them about before pulling out a deck of tarot cards. ''You just sit and let the cards before you do all the work. See the cards tell your story and every story needs a dark, mysterious stranger...''
''So let me guess my fate,'' Santana started snarking, ''one day I'm going to meet my dark, mysterious stranger who will sweep me off my feet and we'll fall in love and live together happily ever after.''
''Darling,'' Mysterious Marilyn scoffed lightheartedly, ''in your story you are the dark, mysterious stranger.''
''I can live with that I guess.''
''But you're also a lot more than that. The universe doesn't make very many of you and yet every time it does you're all gifted with the same captivating attributes and burdened with the same uncertainty. Souls like yours...they're always beautiful, always dark, always withholding and they are always in their own ways tortured.'' Marilyn began laying cards out onto the bar in front of them. Santana looked them over but didn't quite understand how they related to anything the psychic said to her, which made sense since Santana was pretty sure the so called psychic was talking out of her ass. Marilyn pointed down to the first upturned card, The Chariot. Two sphinxes of different coloring, one dark, one light, harnessed and pulling a chariot. ''My,'' the psychic swallowed air and looked at Santana through her lashes. ''I was right about you.''
Unmoved Santana bit into a tortilla chip, crunching on it comically loud.
Marilyn disregarded her disinterest and continued on. ''The Chariot is about balance. Emotion. It is the thing that drives us, pulls us, moves us. Unharnessed it runs wild, causing us to act foolishly and without thought, but harnessed, controlled? Anything is possible. Once you have mastery over yourself, your enemies are already defeated because the moment you conquer your inner turmoil the wisdom and glory you gain will propel you forward. Nothing is beyond your ability if you believe and understand your own power.''
''Is that a bowl of salsa by your elbow? Mind sending that over here?'' Santana asked completely unimpressed by the woman's eloquent soliloquy.
''You strike me as a very emotional, reactive individual. Reactive people are usually that way because they're ignorant, which I don't believe you to be, or they're reactive because they're burning inside with passion. And that is what I see of you. Your passion. Your emotions tend to drive you, much, much more than the average person. Your passion consumes you, whether it's in lust or anger or even love, you feel it much more deeply.''
Marilyn continued on with another card. The Star.
''The Star is about hope, faith-''
''-in god?'' Santana asked raising a skeptical eyebrow.
''In yourself,'' clarified Marilyn. ''See, within all of us there's a spark of something, something beautiful and divine. Not everyone recognizes it within themselves though. Most go their entire lives without a moment of introspection and thus they can never see it and if they never see it, they never live to their fullest potential. But you see it, don't you?''
Marilyn's voice was soft and serious, inquiring, no longer playful or teasing. This clearly wasn't a game to her. There was something in the air that was changing and Santana found it hard to swallow. And her ability or need to retort something wicked or cruel fell away. Marilyn waited for a reply, but when it never came she turned over a third card. The Hanged Man. On the card a man hanged upside down, his leg attached to a tree branch.
''What does that mean?'' Santana asked as she stared down, wondering if perhaps it had a gruesome indication.
''Sacrifice.''
''What does that mean?'' Santana asked again, with urgency in her voice. Disturbed by the imagery.
''It isn't bad. It isn't bleak as people tend to think,'' Marilyn explained. ''See the halo around the figure's head? The Hanged Man is about sacrificing your freedom and power in the physical plane in order to be granted freedom and power on the spiritual, emotional plane.''
''The fuck?''
''The figure isn't dead...he is enlightened. There is no true gain in this world without sacrifice. Sometimes one has to sacrifice something important - be it money or social standing or pride or what have you - in order to be given something of even greater value. But you can't sacrifice foolishly or on whim for it means nothing without purpose. You have to believe in your sacrifice.''
Santana was much more intrigued by the cards and what they were saying by now. She was by no means suddenly believing or on the edge of her seat, but it was...somewhat interesting. Drinks, snacks and the general bar chatter were now only distractions pushed aside. ''And what if I don't believe?''
''In yourself or your sacrifice?''
''Either.''
Marilyn looked at her earnestly. ''Then you walk the world never knowing who you truly are, who you were meant to become. And then your story becomes a tragedy.''
The next card to make an appearance was that of The Lovers.
''The Lovers,'' Marilyn stated, ''is about harmony. A union between two souls. Ah, this'll be interesting.''
''Skip this one,'' Santana urged.
''But-''
''Do another. I don't want to hear about this card.''
''There's something-''
''Just do another card.''
Marilyn lifted a shoulder and relented, pushing the card away to display another. Judgement. The card showed a gathering of beings looking up at an angel above them trumpeting a horn. ''It's about rebirth, there's a cleansing and restoration. A change is ahead for you it appears. You'll soon face things, see things and depending on your actions or inaction will face certain judgements.''
''From who?''
''It isn't about judgements handed down from gods or entities or beings. It's about you seeing yourself for who you really are. Clarity. Things are coming and in the end you will have to answer to yourself.''
''Meaning?''
''You will signal your own day of reckoning.''
Marilyn continued to study the cards for several long moments as if trying to decipher something that Santana couldn't see. Marilyn looked confused and slightly transfixed by what they said now that they were all in a line. Like it was saying something to her but there were no words to articulate it.
''Well, is that it? This was thoroughly and predictably vague and boring. Not to mention ominous as hell.''
Marilyn shook herself out of her daze and gathered her cards into a pile. For her part she tried to match Santana's nonchalance although it was rather obvious the psychic was moved by something she saw within the cards and reading. ''Right. Well,'' she mustered laughter, ''I save the more uplifting, gleeful readings for paying customers.''
Santana nodded. ''Tell them what they want to hear and they'll keep coming back. Smart business.''
''Perhaps,'' Marilyn said, looking pleased with the sort of compliment. ''And it is a business, I do have a shop, but I take what I do very seriously. I won't lie, when a simple soul wants a simple reading I'll give them exactly what they want. A nice, tidy image of their future tied up in a pretty little bow.''
''And you don't take me for a simple soul?''
''You are anything but.'' Marilyn extended her hand, offering Santana a shelled peanut. Santana took it with a grateful and friendly dip of her head. ''I use my real gift on those who truly need to hear it.''
''And that's me right?'' Santana asked, except there was no malice or mockery in it, just a weariness. ''You think I need...what...salvation?''
''No. You don't. Because your salvation is already here and waiting within you.''
They stared at each other intensely, both of them looking deathly serious...until they both burst out into laughter.
''You're really good at this,'' Santana admitted. ''I mean, at talking to people. Even if someone doesn't believe it's hard not to listen.''
''Thank you, I think.''
They sat together for another two hours, any and all snap judgements and harsh introductions forgotten. They took turns ordering each other ridiculously named wildly colored drinks. All the while talking about their favorite places to get their nails done. How both of them felt absolutely incomplete if they weren't wearing a set of killer heels. The psychic was a character and easily just as surly as Santana, who found herself genuinely enjoying the interaction with this perfect stranger, who looked more at home and at peace with who she was then Santana ever had.
Santana halted her laughter in all of this, fanning her face and shaking her head. More than a little tipsy as she tried her best to look solemn all of a sudden. ''Can I ask you a serious question?''
''No, they're not enhancements, I pad,'' Marilyn answered, looking down at her chest. ''Speaking of fake ones, however, I must say whoever did yours was a true artist.''
''Wait, what,'' Santana palmed her own ample but plastic chest, ''how do you know mine are fake?''
''Psychic remember?''
''Right. Well, that wasn't what I was going to ask.''
Marilyn shot her a look as if to say bitch, please.
''Okay, I was going to ask that, but like after another drink,'' Santana conceded. ''What I was going to ask now was how do you do it?''
''Do what?''
''Be you. Be comfortable with who you are when...no offense...when the majority of the world is so willing to laugh at you. How do you be you?''
''How can I not? To be anyone else would be lying. It's a choice I had to make early on, I wasn't going to lie, not to anyone or for anyone and certainly not to myself.''
''And it doesn't hurt?''
Marilyn sighed thoughtfully. ''Life hurts. I think perhaps that's the point of it. No one gets out of life unscathed. We all encounter heartache in some way. I'd rather face mine as my true self.''
''But why risk it? The judgement.''
''Because my judgement is the only one that truly matters. What's that saying, it takes more guts to wear a skirt for an evening than it does to wear a suit for a lifetime. Obviously, you have plenty of guts judging by your hemline.''
''You'd think so...but you'd be wrong.''
''I'm Mysterious Marilyn. I'm never wrong.'' Marilyn was calm and spoke with a firm certainty.
Santana exhaled, not quite believing those words. Or in herself. Not like that.
''You might not see it or understand it now, young lion, but you're strong. Stronger than you think,'' Marilyn insisted.
Santana shook her head at that. And maybe it was the those words, or maybe it was the amount of alcohol she had in her system, or maybe it was both, but the heavy melancholy that had been looming had finally decided to settle over her. She felt tears stinging her eyes and fought to blink them away.
And as if noticing the internal shift taking place within Santana, Marilyn continued. ''Courage is not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it.''
Santana looked down at the worn bar before her, mentally tracing the stained rings on the surface ''...is that Oprah?''
''Nelson Mandela.''
''Right. Totally knew that.''
''Everyone has a war inside. Winning mine didn't happen over night. It was ugly and brutal. But it was worth it. Whatever yours is...it will take time. Make no mistake, wars are never easy, clean or kind. But somewhere in between the blood and the losing it all, you'll find yourself. Born out of ash and ember.''
Desperately wanting to shrug this somber mood away, not willing to share her true turmoil with another just yet Santana lightly swatted Marilyn's arm in a friendly fashion. ''You're drunk.''
''Am not,'' Marilyn replied. ''You're the one who got all serious on me.''
''Whatever. Come on, new question, what brand of lipstick is that? Cause it's super slutty and I needs me a tube of it.''
Marilyn laughed. ''I think it's time to call it an evening.''
''What, no, the next round was going to be on me. It's only like midnight, it's still early.'' Santana tried to reason, not yet ready to be left alone with herself.
''Early for me, yes,'' Marilyn rose from her stool and began gathering herself and her things, smoothing out her outfit and soothing down a part of her hair, ''but not for everyone.''
''Me? I'm fine. I'm a total night owl.''
''I wasn't talking about you.''
''Then who were you-'' Santana started, but paused when Marilyn magically produced a single tarot card and placed it atop the bar right in front of Santana. The Lovers.
''She's worried and she's waiting for you,'' Marilyn softly said. ''The blonde from earlier, the one who was hanging off your arm. Your girl.''
''Who says...she's...she's just...''
''Well, whoever she is to you, she's waiting for you. She went home and she finished unpacking and she called her mother and she snap-chatted with her cat...and she's waiting for you now. Always has been really.''
''How do you know that?''
''The universe writes the script, sweetie, I just say the lines.''
It was with that and a warm smile that Marilyn left Santana with a card an aching in her chest.
X
''Shitfuck!''
Brittany startled out of bed when she heard someone curse in an intense whisper as they entered and attempted to walk through the darkened loft. Someone of course being Santana. Brittany wiped the sleep from her eyes as she slowly sat up. It was through the open glass partitions separating the bedroom from the rest of the loft that she watched as the other girl bumped her shin into the long bench located in the center of the loft.
''God fucking damn it,'' Santana groaned and did a pathetic little hop in agony.
''San?'' Brittany called out. ''You okay?''
It took several minutes of silence before a weary looking Santana appeared at the bedroom's threshold. The only thing illuminating the space was the lighted piece of art above the bed that lent everything in the vicinity a slightly blue hue. Still, there was no hiding Santana's tired eyes, unbalanced posture; her heels hanging from her fingertips as if defeated. ''I'm fine. I'm perfect. Dazzling.''
''Are you drunk?''
''Possibly.''
''What time is it?''
''It's...damn...2am. Sorry I woke you.''
''It's ok.''
Santana went to stand in front of the closet area and began to undress herself which in her slightly inebriated state seemed to be a rather difficult task. With frustrated little grunts she eventually managed to wiggle herself out of her tight clothing and down to her underwear. She came to sit on the edge of the bed and stared straight ahead in a sort of eerie trance.
''I thought you said you were going to come back to the loft,'' Brittany said, staring at Santana's back, noticing the sinking of her tan shoulders. The other girl made no effort to speak, respond or explain her whereabouts for the evening and after moments Brittany went to move, maneuvering herself across the bed to sit and hug her from behind. Eager to do away with the space between them. ''San?''
And still nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing.
''You don't have to hide them from me...you know that right,'' Brittany spoke into Santana's hair. ''I thought we were done hiding feelings away from each other.''
Santana continued to remain silent.
''Because I know you weren't sick.'' Brittany kept the girl wrapped in a loose embrace. ''I know sick Santana. She's needy and whiny and she likes me to rub her tummy as she falls asleep. And that wasn't her tonight.''
''I know...and I know you know. You always know.'' Santana's stiff posture relaxed with the admission.
''Then what was that? What happened?''
Santana shrugged. ''I don't know. I just...I saw something, something in someone and I wasn't sure what it was, or why it was.''
''Something bad...good?'' Brittany was confused.
''Both. Maybe. Not sure.'' Santana exhaled. ''You know that feeling you get when you see something or someone and you get the sense that maybe you've been there before, you've met them before and a shiver runs through you and the tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand and your heart jumps and...it was like deja vu except way fucking weirder.''
Brittany shook her head in the negative, still at a loss.
Santana continued nevertheless. ''I felt that tonight. I don't know what that was or the why of it all but I needed a little space to shake it off, that's all.''
''Space away from me?''
''No. You didn't do anything wrong. It was about me. I just had to get away for a little while and deal. This, tonight, whatever that was, it wasn't about me pushing you away, Britt. Don't think that. I just didn't want you to see me like that-''
''Like what?''
''...scared. I was scared. And I don't like feeling that way and I don't like you seeing me like that.''
''I don't want you to hide yourself from me.''
''This isn't about hiding, Britt. This is about protecting you.''
''From what?''
''From me. Look I know I'm not the best at this whole human emotions thing, okay, not like you. We both know what happens when I feel things I don't know how to handle. I've done things and said things and I've hurt you before. I don't want to do that anymore.''
''And you won't. I know you won't. And I don't need you to protect me from you. I want you, Santana. All of you. You don't have to hide it, and baby look at me,'' Brittany softly cupped one side of Santana's face and turned it towards her own, ''I don't ever want you to feel like you have to be scared alone. Please, please understand that.''
Santana nodded as she reached a hand up to place over Brittany's, threading their fingers together.
''I just want you to know that I'm trying. Even when I mess up, I'm trying.''
''I know you are, and I totally trust that. You don't have to tell me that. You don't owe me that. You don't owe me anything. I'm already proud of you...what I want most is for you to be proud of you. That's all. You had a moment. Everyone has 'em. You can be honest when it happens and when you need something, whether it's a hug or space to think, all you have to do is tell me. There's nothing I wouldn't give you and you know that. But you have to let me know. Please.''
''Yeah.''
''Are we okay?'' Brittany asked and Santana nodded. ''What do you need right now?''
Santana turned herself so as to face her head on as she began to touch the bottom of Brittany's thin and snug sleep shirt with her fingertips. She toyed with the hem a bit before slowly and almost cautiously pushing it up until Brittany took the hint and pulled it off of herself, leaving them both in their underwear.
''Do you want-''
''Can I-''
They spoke at the same time, halting mid-sentence. Brittany took a breath. ''Tell me what you want.''
Santana looked so small, so fragile and her voice so soft and tiny. ''Can I...hold you?''
Brittany nodded without hesitation.
Santana tenderly helped Brittany back towards the pillows and onto her side, gently stroking up and down her exposed arm as she settled in behind her. Being taller made it a little awkward for Brittany, but she knew Santana needed to be the big spoon tonight. She buried her face into the back of Brittany's neck and inhaled. It sent shivers down Brittany's spine.
Contact.
Throughout the years of knowing her Brittany had learned that sometimes Santana couldn't say everything with words. Words were hard for her. At least the kind that mattered, the kind that said something. Santana could tear someone apart with a few vicious words, sure, those kind came easy and often. But when it came to truly expressing herself through speech, it was much more difficult. It was even more difficult to get her to hear Brittany when she most needed her to. It could be like trying to communicate with a brick wall sometimes.
Santana couldn't always grasp, accept or understand the emotion and sincerity behind kind words. It was easy for Santana to shrug them off, to dismiss them entirely, but Brittany knew the only true way to reach Santana, to speak to her soul and be heard was with a touch.
Simple touch.
Yes, more times than not, it was often sexual, but it was also in a sweet stroke of her cheek, in the soothing of her hair, in a soft kiss to her temple. Santana understood and felt the power behind each and every touch. When she was hurting and in distress touch is how Brittany spoke to Santana and how Santana spoke to her.
Hours ago, Santana had needed space for herself to sort whatever she needed to sort out, but here and now she needed this. Touch. Skin. Intimacy.
''I'm here,'' Brittany promised. ''I'm here.''
Brittany reached out and without even needing to search somehow found Santana's right hand and brought it to her front and held it to the center of her chest.
Contact.
''And I love you,'' Brittany said out into the dark, otherwise silent room.
X
Other than that one inexplicable bout of panic encountered that first evening the next few days passed rather easily Brittany found. The following day they didn't leave the loft. She'd spent the entire day in bed with Santana soothing her soul with touch. It didn't take half as long as it used to, to get Santana back to her usual self.
Maybe there had been a tiny hiccup that night for whatever reason, but it had been put to rest. It had been put to rest because Santana may have taken a few hours to walk it off, sure, but she had eventually found her way back and actually talked about her feelings openly and honestly as much as she could anyway. She had admitted to being scared and worried, she had bared those emotions to Brittany. Even if they were still a ways off from being a real, official out in the open couple, it was progress. Santana was taking steps forward on her own, as well as with Brittany.
It meant everything. It proved everything Brittany knew to be true in her heart.
And so, that set aside, within those first few days they began to form a routine of sorts. Their days usually began with Justin taking them to breakfast which was always followed with some kind of field trip. Sometimes he'd escort them to places like little out of the way parks, trendy stores with the best finds, little independent, eclectic sights. Sometimes he'd try something different and attempt to show them some of Pittsburgh's more notable tourist spots, the places you'd find in a guide book. He'd happily play tour guide for a few hours but he was also very careful not to suffocate them either and he often excused himself in the afternoon, allowing them to wander off and do their own thing.
''Tell you girls what, why don't you two explore for a bit? Walk around the city. Get some fresh air. I plan to drag you to every museum and monument in the city sometime during this trip, but it might be fun to visit some nooks and crannies on your own. We can meet up later tonight,'' he had said on one of their first few outings. The girls had traded looks and murmured their agreement with the change of plans. ''Stay together of course and don't make me regret setting you lose on Pittsburgh,'' he playfully warned.
And so they did.
They explored the city on their own and found it invigoratingly inviting. The city was so large, so open and evolved that it took no time for them to feel comfortable in their surroundings. They goofed and joshed and walked and walked. With no direction or prerogative, they were happy to waste their one on one afternoons away. It was freeing and wonderful and it made Brittany feel so grown up, to be out alone like this, to have no one to answer to, to have no one looking after them.
That was another thing, no one in the city really looked at them. Sure, they were noticed and greeted and such but no one really, really looked at them. Not even when Brittany curled a hand around one of Santana's upper arms on a busy sidewalk as they waited for the walk sign to change so they could cross the street. Or when they bought ridiculously sized pretzels at a food cart inside of a water garden near downtown and half way through hers Brittany caught a single fly-away hair of Santana's with her pinky and pushed it back behind her ear. Even outside of Liberty Avenue, it really seemed like the population of Pittsburgh as a whole didn't give a poop about two girls spending time together and being affectionate with each other in public.
More importantly, it looked like Santana was feeling a tiny bit more comfortable in her surroundings. Brittany wasn't certain if this tiny bit of progress was due to them being strangers to this city or Santana's new relaxed state or both, but she thought maybe she had been right all along about this trip.
Maybe Pittsburgh and Liberty Avenue could give them a much needed break from small-minded Lima with it's small-minded people and help them find their footing in this new phase of their relationship. It might not have been New York or Los Angeles, but Pittsburgh was an evolved and eclectic city on it's own and Brittany was glad that they were both taking to it. Or maybe it was taking to them.
While they spent the majority of their days roaming there were several times where they opted out of any and all touristy activities to go back to the loft and proceed to get naked with each other on any and every available surface. It was always hard to stop once they got started and there was still something very peculiar about the loft. There was something about the space that turned the usually insatiable Santana into even more of a sex machine. It was amazing. Brittany lost count of how many times she uttered the words ''oh my god'', each time she said it she meant it. Like in the literal sense. In those moments of passion, of intense, overwhelming euphoria she swore Santana was a god.
There was no other way to explain it.
It always left Brittany completely and utterly fucked out in the best possible way.
As for their first couple of evenings, a solo Justin had escorted them out to dinner several times, but a few nights in between they had decided to stay in just the two of them. Santana was always content to order in but Brittany had attempted to whip something up in the kitchen once, it resulted in a small fire which was totally weird because she was only fixing a bowl of cereal at the time but whatever. It was on one such evening that first week that they found themselves sitting on floor pillows, lounging about the living room and eating Chinese food from cartons.
''...and that's why I think the world would be a much happier place if we just started using walnuts as currency,'' Brittany said in conclusion of a theory she had been working on.
Santana laughed. ''That's ridiculous and brilliant.''
''Yeah.'' Brittany shrugged bashfully.
''You're ridiculous and brilliant.'' Santana's eyes were warm and playful making it clear this was very much meant to be taken as a compliment.
''Well, I don't know if I have the brilliant thing down, but I know I have the ridiculous part working for me.'' Brittany gave Santana's nose a little, light poke and pinch with her chopsticks.
Santana responded by making a scrunchy face and wiggling her face away. ''Hey. It takes a lot of bravery to be ridiculous.''
''I doubt that.''
''It's true. I think it's one of the things I've always really...liked about you. It's what's always set you apart from everyone else. You're not afraid of being seen as silly or strange, you just are. You're ridiculous and creative and you don't live inside of a box. You don't color inside the lines.''
''Things can get pretty messy if you don't abide by the lines,'' Brittany said half-heartedly. ''Or at least that's what I remember my first grade teacher taught me.''
''She sounds like a bitch,'' Santana joked.
''She wasn't, or she wasn't trying to be. Her name was Mrs. Wilson.''
''Correction: she sounds like a fat bitch.''
''I remember once she handed out coloring sheets to the entire class. Everyone got a picture of a school bus we had to color in. It was one of those color by numbers kind of things. At the bottom of the page it told you 1 meant yellow, 2 meant red, 3 meant whatever...everyone colored theirs in like the paper told them to. Except me. For some reason, I can't even remember, I got it into my head that the picture could use some green. So I colored the wheels of my school bus green.''
Santana smiled at this and from her carton captured a small piece of sweet and sour chicken between her chopsticks and offered it to Brittany, who happily accepted it as she continued on with her anecdote.
''Afterwards when we all turned in our coloring to the teacher she asked me why I did that. I didn't have a reason, I just wanted them to be green I told her. She didn't say anything, she just put us to work on something else I think. But the next day, the next day I remember coming into class and seeing that she had covered an entire wall of our classroom with everyone's coloring sheet. You could really only tell they were done in by different students because we all had written our names at the bottom of our page. There was an entire wall of school buses that looked almost exactly alike. Mine was the only one that was different. It stood out. I thought, looking up at that wall, that that was pretty cool. To be the one who was different. And back then, it wasn't even the other kids that made it into something, you know. None of my little friends back then cared. But later that day when we were all at our little tables working on something another teacher came into the room. She might have been a sub or a secretary, I don't know. But the two of them got to talking at the front of the room and I guess they thought none of us kids were listening or noticed or whatever, and maybe none of them were, but I did. That one woman looked at the school bus wall and said something about the one with the green wheels to my teacher. And then they laughed at it. They laughed. Maybe I wasn't at the head of the class, but even back then I could always tell when someone was laughing with someone or laughing at someone. It wasn't happy or kind or nice, their laughter. The way they talked about it and laughed about it...was just mean. They said it was silly, and my teacher told the woman I had trouble following instructions, how I was always a little bit behind everyone else. They probably never noticed I had overheard them. It was the first time I thought maybe being different wasn't a good thing. The school buses stayed on that wall for a month or two I think. For awhile for sure. Cause I can remember for a long while coming into class every morning and having to look at that wall, look at my green school bus wheels and thinking being different doesn't make you special, it makes you a freak, it gets you laughed at. It took me a couple of years to unlearn that.''
Brittany shook her head at the sad memory of being made to feel less than because of the things that made her different. A tiny part of her ached for the little girl she once was who had to unlearn that tired, oppressive mindset from someone who was meant to guide her. When she stopped playing with her chopsticks and looked up at Santana she saw a mixture of sadness and hurt in her eyes.
With their food and utensils discarded, Santana moved closer towards her, her stare intense, her movements so slow but sure. Their breath mingled. She cupped one of Brittany's cheeks and pulled her into a soft kiss. Slow and languid. It was a kiss for kissing's sake. It wasn't meant to lead or progress anywhere, it wasn't about sex, it wasn't about orgasms, it's purpose was to comfort and support. Brittany couldn't help but be moved by Santana's sudden tenderness and proximity.
''What was that for?'' she asked after.
''For being different.'' Santana stroked Brittany's hair. ''Maybe the world would be a better place if we used walnuts as currency, but it might be an even better place if everyone learned how to be a little bit more ridiculous like one Brittany S. Pierce. And her kick-ass school bus with green wheels.''
''Yeah well.''
''Hey, I mean it. You're the most amazing, creative person I've ever met. No one thinks like you. No one has the guts to. There are times where I even think if I were more like you things would be easier for me-''
Brittany was a bit baffled. ''Why would you want to be more like me?''
''I don't know, I mean, yeah, I'm pretty much the definition of awesome but...I don't exactly make it easy to know or be around me. I ridicule without reason, I've used sex as a weapon, I could teach a seminar on the art of manipulation, I've screwed over all of my friends at one point or another. I'm kind of a bitch.''
''Totally, and why would you want to change that? It's who you are.''
''And maybe there's something wrong with who I am.''
''Says who?''
Santana shrugged. ''Says everyone.''
''That's just so...that's not even...'' Brittany shook her head about as she searched for the right words to articulate herself. She closed her eyes briefly and took a moment to find them. She had to get this right. ''When I was younger it took me a little time to accept that there was nothing wrong with me-''
''There is nothing wrong with you.''
''Right, exactly, there's nothing wrong with me the same way there's nothing wrong with you. Don't you get it? The world needs nutty goofs but the world also needs ruthless determined assholes too.''
Santana raised an eyebrow at her as if to say say again.
''This is who we are,'' said Brittany. ''If we were meant to be something else we would be, but we're not. I don't want you to be more like me and awesomeness aside I certainly don't want to be more like you. I like that you're a bitch who calls people on their crap and tells them how it is, I like that you do whatever the hell you want to do and make no apologies for it. That's who you are and that's who I want to be with.''
Looking embarrassed, Santana bowed her head and pushed something into Brittany's hands. An individually wrapped cookie.
''Time to read your fortune...I know it's your favorite part.''
Brittany tore into the wrapping, tilted her head and stared down at her fortune in mock concentration.
''What's it say?'' Santana asked, in no real rush to open her own.
Brittany took the opportunity to gently push Santana to lie back on the floor pillows and snuggle into her. They stroked each other's hair and limbs, laying unhurried lips upon the other's temple, clothed shoulder or chin, nuzzling as they settled against each other and once comfortable and cuddled Brittany began to pretend reading the tiny slip of paper that held her fortune.
''Hmmmm. It says a beautiful girl will seduce you tonight,'' Brittany said. ''She'll first peel off all of your clothes, kissing every inch of your body until you're crazy and dripping...then she'll slowly strip all of her clothes off for you to reveal her glorious naked body. At which point she'll slide her beautiful fingers up inside of you, filling you up as she hotly whispers your name over and over again. And just when you think you're about to tip over the edge she will take your legs and spread them so she can move herself against you, right where you need her the most. You'll be so wet and she'll be so wet and when she starts moving against you-''
''How long does this fortune go on?''
''At least until the third round. Maybe fourth, I don't know I haven't read the back of it yet.''
Santana yanked the fortune out of her hands and read it to herself. ''Now is not the time to make any financial investments.''
''That's not what it said to me,'' Brittany said with an innocent shrug. ''Aren't you going to read yours?''
''Nah. You go for it.''
''What, I can't do that! It's yours, you have to open it. It's your fortune we're talking about here.''
''It's a cheap cookie that tastes like cardboard that's what we're talking about here.''
''It's not, though. It's bigger than that. It's the stars and Santa and destiny and everything magical, you can't not read your fortune.''
''Meh.''
''Believe in it.''
''All it probably says is when one door closes another door opens. Or it's probably a fortune that just has, like, lucky numbers on it or some crap.''
''Please,'' Brittany said with a pout.
Santana grunted and caved. ''Fine...but only because you said I could top tonight.''
Brittany let out a tiny, happy squeal as Santana yanked the plastic off of her fortune cookie and broke it in half. She fed one half to Brittany and popped the other into her own mouth with a flourish, crunching on it and swallowing it quickly before looking down to study the message within it.
''So, what's it say?'' Brittany grinned.
Santana blinked.
''What? Did you get a blank one?'' Brittany wondered. ''Those always creep me out.''
Again she was answered with silence.
''San?''
''Fate is coming,'' Santana said, studying the slip of paper between her fingertips, holding it delicately and at a distance like it might burst into flames at any moment.
''What do you think that means?'' Brittany asked seriously.
''It's just a piece of paper.'' Santana discarded it, tossing it off onto the coffee table. ''It means whatever the person reading it wants it to mean. Like yours. Yours said one trivial thing and you, you read something else into it entirely.''
''Mine was boring and totally not cool...yours sounded mysterious and cryptic.''
Santana didn't seem interested in talking about that though as she climbed on top of Brittany, blanketing her frame with her body. ''What do you say I turn your fortune into a reality?''
Santana rocked her hips into Brittany, who moaned at the movement. ''Yeah?''
The brunette sat upright and began shedding her clothing as Brittany watched in anticipation, a sly little smirk playing across her face as she drank in the sight of Santana's flesh. She watched in astonishment and occasionally reached out to caress the side or bottom of the wildly sexy girl sitting and stripping on her lap. It didn't take long before Santana wiggled down a bit to start working on removing Brittany's clothes.
Within seconds they were skin to skin with not a stitch of clothing between them and Santana was spreading the blonde's thighs and moving herself just so, so that her center hit Brittany's. Both of them moaned at the contact. Santana set their movements to a delicious rhythm and Brittany could feel everything of the other girl. It was so fucking wet between them. Brittany's heart wanted to pound out of her chest, it was so powerful and intense.
She reached up to softly squeeze at Santana's breast but had to pull back after a moment because she honestly loved watching them sway before her. They were so perfect and soft and full and Santana. There was something so incredibly hypnotizing about watching her body rock against her. She could see everything, every tiny flexing muscle, every tantalizing bronze curve with each thrust. Santana's body was truly a work of art, a masterpiece. It was glorious. But the one thing that always without fail pushed Brittany to the edge of everything was glimpsing Santana's face in the midst of it all.
Now when Santana closed her eyes it wasn't about hiding or shutting herself away. Emptiness or hurt or pain no longer painted her face during their lovemaking. Instead Brittany now got to watch an at ease, serene look wash over Santana each time her dark lashes fluttered in excitement. So beautifully overcome with the sensations between them. And how Santana's slightly open mouth quivered each time Brittany eagerly moved her own hips towards her. But the best part about watching Santana's face now was when Brittany reached her hand down between them and found Santana with her fingers. There would always be this moment when their eyes met and everything became electric.
It was a look Santana had about her when she was lost in the moment that made Brittany get so lost in Santana.
''Come here,'' Brittany whispered, wanting Santana's mouth on hers.
Later they laid tangled in a sweaty messy heap atop of the floor pillows. Neither of them made any move to get up, instead they were both content to lay back in the middle of the loft as Brittany watched an equally satisfied Santana slowly catch her breath and collect herself.
''So was it as good as your fortune cookie told you it'd be?'' Santana asked cockily.
''Better,'' Brittany answered, propping her head up with her hand. ''How about you?''
Santana took a moment to squint her eyes and shake her head about as if in consideration before she answered in a teasing tone. ''It was...alright.''
''Alright? ...Just alright?'' Brittany asked. ''It was hot and fantastic and mindblowing and hot.''
''You said hot twice.''
''Yeah, well, it was doubly hot. It was amazing and you know it.'' Brittany nudged Santana playfully.
''Ehhhhh.''
This of course caused Brittany to leap up on top of her and begin to torture her with tickles and pokes. ''Say it. Say it was amazing!''
''Dah-ha-ha! No! No! Wait!'' Trapped beneath her Santana yelped through her machine gun laughter. ''Stop!''
''It was totally amazing. Say it was! Say it was amazing!''
Failing at maintaining her calm, Santana wiggled about, squeaking when Brittany touched her sensitive tickle spots. ''Okay! Alright! It was amazing-it was amazing-it was amazing!''
''It was,'' Brittany said, settling down, halting her tickle attack and silencing the softening giggles of Santana with a slow kiss.
''Mmmm,'' Santana moaned into the embrace. The tiny vibrations making Brittany shiver and feel warm all over.
''Sleepy?'' Brittany asked when she pulled away. ''We can move to the bed if you want.''
''For the last time, I don't nod off after sex like that. I'm not a sleepy little kitten-''
''But a badass panther, yeah, I got it.''
Amused Santana gave the side of Brittany's ass a little swat. ''Just for that remark, you're so going to get it again.''
''Alright, but before we do I need to refuel with some water.'' Brittany stood up stark naked and stretched. ''You want?''
Santana sat up and shook her head in the negative and Brittany bounced off towards the kitchen area and retrieved a small bottle of water which she quickly drank from.
Due to the open layout of the loft she still had a perfect view of Santana though, and so as she went about finishing her drink she watched her. The dark girl pulled a blanket over her shoulders and went to grab her handbag from which she took a small hand held mirror. She studied her reflection as she went about smoothing her sex hair down into something more manageable and once satisfied with it moved onto checking her own breath by adorably breathing into her cupped hand. Brittany thought Santana's breath had been fine but nevertheless she watched as Santana pulled a mint and threw it in her mouth and was about to put the roll away when she went back, retrieved two more mints and crunched on them quickly and comically loud.
Brittany grinned at her. Santana was the cutest.
She was about to head back to her when she saw Santana avert her attention to something else once more. The tiny paper fortune laying on the coffee table. She picked it up and for a moment Brittany was certain that she was going to crumble it up and toss it, but instead Santana went about holding it in her palm while touching it with a fingertip from her opposite hand, smoothing out the slight wrinkles of it. Handling it as if it were this fragile, delicate thing, staring at it as if it was the answer to life.
She had scoffed at it earlier but it clearly meant something to her, or said something to her Brittany thought as she watched Santana pull out her wallet and place it securely inside.
Fate is coming it had read and Brittany wondered perhaps if maybe it really was.
X
As it turns out a few of my chapters ended up being 40/50 pages which kinda irked me so I split some of them up, because of that I felt like this one in particular suffers a little because of it. The next chapter, which was initially a part of this one, has a lot more movement in it I feel. I feel like this chapter was just a slow talky piece and I'm not sure how it reads on it's own.
Also I don't know how anyone reading would interpret it, but I wanted to convey that Santana saw something strange yet familiar in Brian and that triggered a sort of panic within her. They were seeing a kind of reflection of themselves in each other and though they'd never admit it, it wigged them both the hell out. Because of all she's been going through I think Santana was especially unprepared to see that. Her need to escape for a couple of hours felt in character to me.
Within the entire run of QaF Mysterious Marilyn only appeared twice, but she was such a great fun character and I loved the idea of a reluctant Santana sitting at a bar with this maybe-psychic talking about fate and lipstick. It's those unexpectedly profound conversations with complete strangers that can sometimes set us on a path...