Title: Locksmith
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 11.2k
Summary: Even now, after ten years together, you still aren't in the right place and it's like you can never fit right together for too long before one of you shifts and it happens again.
Notes: I haven't abandoned this story, but the updates are slow! It is tying up though so watch out ;)
/
Thirteen Years Ago cont.
Some jackasses on the floor below yours slammed their front door, startling you awake.
You flinched, becoming immediately aware that you weren't alone when you didn't move much and tilted your head down your body, where you were laying length ways on the sofa now, to find a sleeping Brittany curled against you. You were both crammed on to small space of the sofa, and it was weird because the memory of her turning up last night, drunk as anything, telling you she missed you and you'd just fallen asleep beside her, ran hot through your brain, like you were supposed to think more on it.
You'd only known Brittany for six months or so, and half of you began freaking out because it wasn't a normal situation. Yeah, you were used to waking up with a stranger, but not fully clothed and not after just sleeping, and certainly not with her, but you didn't get to linger on it for long before Brittany stirred and then there were blue eyes struggling to open, but sparkling up at you when they did.
"Hey," she croaked, adjusting her position but somehow snuggling further into you. You were a little tense, but when her hand slid across your waist, dipping beneath your t-shirt to trace invisible lines up the skin of your ribs, you did the total opposite and relaxed. Your breath was shaky as it left your chest, like someone had undone a knot inside and you should've pondered on that more, but you were still a little panicky emotionally. Physically, you were forcing yourself to come across as calm as a buddha.
"Morning," you replied, joining in with the casual tone seeing as you were the only one feeling weird about waking up like that. "You okay?"
Brittany scrunched her face up at the question, shaking her head as she buried it into the crook of your shoulder. "Not okay," she muffled. "Woman down."
You giggled, thinking she was ridiculous but totally adorable and bit on your lip as you tucked your chin to your chest to look at her again, but she didn't notice. That didn't stop you staring, though, and smelling her sweet perfume that made your heart skip a beat. She smelled like, really fucking good and as nervous as you were that the situation you woke up in wasn't exactly friendly, you couldn't deny that she was warm, and soft, and you were starting to like the idea of cuddling her to sleep. You were on the sofa, but you had a really good night's sleep.
"Lemme get you a bottle of water and some painkillers," you offered, shifting out from beneath her but she just clutched on to you, moving her head from your shoulder to your neck where her nose pressed against your throat. You forced against the urge to gulp, knowing she was like, right there, and would've felt it and froze for a second, but then wiggled back into position and she resumed running her fingertip up the side of your ribs.
"No," was grunted into your shoulder, making you laugh louder. "Snuggles," she demanded, and well, who were you to resist?
So, you did as you were told and wrapped your arms around her as she reached for the remote and flicked on some trashy television show before snuggling into you.
You didn't watch though. All you could think about was how good it felt to wake up to your best friend.
/
The next time you open your eyes, you're pressed against Brittany's back this time, her hips fitting into yours and you blink away the itch at the back of your eyelids and crane your neck over to peer at her face.
You fell asleep at some point after kissing her in a way you'd wanted to since the last time, and you push your tongue to the back of your teeth as you think about the conversation you had which led you to this moment. She did most of the talking – again – but you feel like all the questions and hesitations you had have now been answered, and you're going to tell her your side of things, but you're too distracted with thinking that the hurdles that kept you apart have just gone.
There's nothing there anymore stopping you from being together and you hope that she knows that with how you were kissing her before you both fell asleep.
You were stroking at every inch of her face, your lips following the same path and memorising every inch of her like it was the last time you would be able to. You were showing her how much you regret not loving her as much as you missed her. You remembered doing the same thing when she came back from London, and did a whole lot more staring back then, but that's what you're doing right now to make up for it.
You're just soaking her up, propped up on your elbow as you begin tracing a line down the length of her arm, from her shoulder to the tips of her fingers and watching the movement, revelling in the electricity that shoots up your arm at the touch.
She must be an angel.
You honestly don't know how you've been lucky enough to not only find her, but stupidly lose her only to find her again not once, not twice, but three times now (hopefully) and that thought fucking terrifies you.
Your finger stops at the crook of her elbow, your palm coming down until you can stretch over her forearm, gliding down to reach her hand where you stay, lacing your fingers over the back of hers. She's still breathing deeply, fast asleep and you know she's probably down for the count as the sleep has been interrupted so far, so you don't worry when you lean down and press your lips to her bicep, lingering for a long moment as you inhale her skin, letting your mind wander.
The one thing that's been swirling around in your head, is the part she said about marriage.
Out of everything you've talked about, that one's ringing alarms because you can't believe she didn't know if you were going to marry her. She knew you loved her, and she said she wanted to come back to you the instant she left, but you think you always knew that. You just can't believe she marriage wasn't on the cards for you though, and you don't know how to reassure her that, that was always the plan. Had it not been for Lucas – which was a blessing in itself – you would've been married by now and after you broke up, you thought it was a good thing so you wouldn't have had to deal with all the legalities. You could keep it amicable because you didn't share a last name, and that helped when discussing custody of your son.
At the time, you weren't in the right mindset to share custody, so you came up with an agreement on how often you'd see your son – every weekend, if possible – and did the wrong thing by burying your head into your work, the one massive contribution to you splitting up in the first place.
But you know better now. You know now who you are and how to be yourself and love Brittany and your son and keep your family together, because that's what it's all about. The happiness Brittany was trying to give you was right in her hands, but things went awry and both of you lost sight of it.
You're hoping you're going to get it back, though. You're hoping when she wakes up, she's going to look at you and you're just going to know for definite, that you're back where you belong.
Which comes sooner than you expect.
You drag your eyes up from your clasped hands when you feel Brittany squeeze your hand gently and find her already looking over her shoulder at you through sleepy blue. She's barely awake, but when your thumb drifts over the back of her hand without conscious thought, she begins fluttering her lashes and stirs, mumbling incoherently but you hear the request. It's too familiar not to recognise, and you smile softly as you lay back down in bed, shuffling forward to spoon her again, pressing so tightly against her whilst you grab her hand and push it into her stomach.
Your lips find her shoulder this time, pressing a single kiss and you tense when she mewls quietly. She was mumbling a second ago, still groggy as anything but you know her well enough to hear the change in tone and your throat begins thickening, tongue poking out to wet your lips before you kiss her again, further up her skin, at the edge of her shoulder, just to see if she'll repeat it.
And she does. The noise happens again, and it's dead silent in the room but your breathing is getting louder now, and you don't know why you do it because there's a heat prickling across your body that's screaming at you that this is a tactical move, based on thousands of experiences of doing it in the past, but you still continue kissing up her skin, until your get to her neck, ignoring that you know exactly what you're doing because God, you've missed hearing how she reacts to you.
Her hair is in the way as you carry on, but you nudge it over with your nose and press it into her warmth expanse of skin before you. She smells like everything you've missed, and your eyes flutter when her body pushes back into you at the touch, electricity sparking through your veins as your chest flares as it squashes against her back.
"Hmmm," she lets out through a quiet moan, but you just press into her, hips first, fully knowing that you're starting to get hard and there's no way she's not going to feel it, but you don't give a hot monkeys ass if she does. You just return to kissing a path up the side of her neck, your fingers digging into her palm with how tight you're squeezing her and you show that, knowing it's going to go a certain way because of what you're doing, but you can't help it.
This isn't what you should be doing, because it's a lot like the time before where you aren't speaking and doing other things to avoid it, but something feels more acceptable in this moment. Something has changed and it's echoing the many times you used to wake up in the dead of night, with your son in the next room, and make love until the early hours of the morning because it was the only time you could get together. Having a baby was trying, but you always made sure to love her and it's difficult to think you lost sight of that when Lucas grew up.
But you're not going to lose her again.
There's nothing in this world that could tear you apart from her now you think you've got her back, and you think your body is conveying that because she twists, not moving her body but at the neck instead to meet your eye and gasps when she does so. It's got to be something in your eyes, and even a day ago this would've terrified you to your very core, but you hold the contact strong because you've been here before. Back when you were pretending not to be in love with her, and (not) proving that by taking her to your parents in Miami, you both woke up in the middle of the night and that was the first time you looked at her like this.
Like you'd never seen the light before.
It's so intense, so grabbing that you're just frozen in place, and it feels like you could climb out your body and into hers and mould together eternally. It feels like this is the final and definite beginning of your journey again, even though you thought you had been there before, but it wasn't quite like this. This is the reunion of two souls that were meant to be but got lost along the way. This is the return of a powerful, unstoppable force, and you take a staggered breath when you see it reflected in the bright blue, like she's thinking the same thing.
So you don't hesitate when you drop her hand, coming up to her face to drag a single fingertip along her jaw and tilt her neck further around. You don't hesitate as you close your eyes a second before your lips touch, pausing for the briefest of moments before eliminating the gap and kissing her at this angle. She doesn't hesitate either, just exhales loudly through her nose and adjusts and kisses you back, and you're surer than ever that she loves you and she's never going to leave you again, either.
So, it's all okay.
Everything thing is about this is okay, and your hand releases her, skimming beneath her shirt, up her chest to palm at her breasts. You roll her nipple between your finger, shuddering when she groans into your mouth, hips twitching back to press tactically into your hardened member and heat floods your skin. The intensity grips at your entire being, and her lips stretch into a lazy grin when your hips – which have a mind of their own – push forward in response to get some sort of pressure to relieve the tension flooding your groin.
It's too hot and heavy, and you try to turn her all the way round with the grip you drop to her ribs, but she stays strong, and you know what that means. You've had years of having sex with her and recognise what she wants and how she wants it every damn time, so this time doesn't go any differently. She wants you to stay like this, and make love to her like this, so you don't stop kissing her, sucking gently on her bottom lip and cradling her face so it's locked against yours, your tongues stroking against each other like so many times before as you confirm with the kiss that you get it.
It's everything you dreamed about when you lost it, everything you wanted back, just to show each other with actions instead of words how much she meant to you, but you stopped. Only after it was gone, did you realise what it was, and you think the times you ended up having sex were signs pointing you in the direction; little nudges from the universe to show you how you two really communicated and how you always had done.
Sure, words failed you when you needed them the most, and your actions spoke so loudly before you broke up, but when you started changing and evolving – or devolving as you've just become the person you used to be – the words started doing it the right way and so did your actions.
Like right now.
Nothing about this is wrong. Not when she reaches back and strokes her hand up your thigh, tugging your hips into hers roughly, signalling further what she wants, and you can't resist. Your hand moves down from her side to the edge of her underwear, hooking your thumb into it and pushing it down, marvelling at the soft skin as they slide down her legs, her taking over the removal but leaving them by her knees. She moans into your mouth as you drag your fingertips back up the outside of her leg, electric surging through your core until you're rocking into her, your cock twitching beneath your boxers, aching with the need to get off, and you know you need more.
Like, now.
You need her like someone would need water after drifting through the desert for days. You need her like humans need air to breathe, like it just disappears whenever she does, and you can't let this moment go. You feel like this is the final action that'll solidify your relationship because it's not like the other times. Sure, they were perfection, and the last time was mind-blowing because she was smiling against your mouth as you both came undone, but this feels like a signature at the bottom of an emotional contract.
That thought slips your mind when her hand drifts up your thigh when she's finished removing her underwear, curving between your legs and grabs at you through the fabric of your boxers, palm pushing down in a way that makes your lips falter against hers. Her fingertips grip gently as she begins stroking over you over the fabric and you bite into the next kiss you give her, allowing her to kick off her underwear the rest of the way down the bed as you return up the path you took down her legs, doing the same thing she did a second ago and glide between her legs, gasping at the wetness you come into contact with.
Even after all this time, you don't know how she's so ready for you. How her body, mind and soul react to you in the same way yours does with her. It feels like a higher power has control of your relationship because it's nothing like you've ever known and heard that no-one else has come across a connection like you two have before. You hear it all the damn time and where before tonight, it always hurt to listen to that but now you know what Quinn meant when she described you two as an unstoppable force.
Brittany was right, too. You're hard evidence of Mike Chang's red string theory because no number of knots of tangles could prevent you from losing your way back to her. You have and always will naturally gravitate towards each other. Every part of your being knows it and you think hers does too.
"Santana," Brittany groans, and you whimper as she adjusts her arm and dips beneath your boxers, not touching you but urging the clothing down your legs until you're springing free, pressed up and caught between your own body and hers. Her grip goes straight to you after, stroking languidly and you bite down on your bottom lip, moving your hips into the touch as you bury you face into her hair for a second, trying to deal with the heat thrashing through you.
This touch isn't enough, and your body is yearning for more, so you start rubbing practised circles around Brittany's clit, moving your mouth to the back of her neck and she gasps at the initial contact, grasping at the back of your neck with her other arm reaching under the pillow, until you nip at her skin, still pushing your hips into hers. You're on fucking fire, a feeling that you've only ever experienced with Brittany, and you don't know how you ever tried to pretend like this chemistry didn't exist. You don't know how you ever managed to convince yourself for two seconds that sex wasn't the answer the entire time, because okay, it can't fix it, but it was highlighting the thing that you lost before you broke up.
It's highlighting the undeniable connection, and unfortunately, you fell victim to complacency within each other and you thought you could make something of yourself and build a better future, when all Brittany wanted was the present to last forever. She just wanted you there, with her and Lucas, in the same flat you've lived in for over a decade, loving them both unconditionally and promising forever, which you know you'll be doing from here out. There'll be no more distractions or stubborn urges to give each other a chance at finding happiness other than the one you shared, because neither of you want more.
But for now…
For now, you're going to soak as much of her in as you can. You're going to enjoy every single piece she gives you.
"I love you," leaves your lips though, painting against the neck of her skin and she reels back, twisting around to look at you and blue eyes are wide, panicked, staring and waiting like she's waiting for you to take it back.
But you won't. You can't. You've never been able to stop loving her and that's one thing you've always been sure of. She's been the only one to ever have the key to your heart; she's your locksmith.
You're glad you don't take it back either when she surges forward, mouth crashing against you fiercer than it did a minute ago, one hand winding into your hair whilst the other grabs at the sheets as you continue the motions on her clit, and Brittany roots you to the kiss she gives you, because you haven't said those three words in the longest of times, and you want to repeat it. You want to say how truly, madly, deeply you're in love with her and always have been and was a total idiot for thinking you couldn't give her what she needed when all she ever needed, was you.
There's not enough time for that though, not when she's returning to her motions on your member but lifting her leg up slightly and shifting backwards until you're pressed against where she needs you the most. She tugs your hand from between her legs as she spreads them, lifting one into the air. You support the limb in the air for a second for her until she's comfortable, before dropping your grip to your dick, shuffling until you're pressed against hot, tight resistance, squeezing the base of your cock and taking in one breath as she meets your eye and nods her head, allowing you to slide into her, both sets of eyes bulging open at the connection and three little words follow after.
"I love you," Brittany pants, voice more of a whine than anything else, but you're too distracted with the feeling of being inside her to choke at the words.
It's hot, and wet, and so fucking tight that your mind goes into overdrive, and you can't stop yourself, burying into her until you're flush against her hips, no space between you and she's dropping her head to the pillow, whining loudly into the air. Your lips move to ghost over hers, as you follow her when she moves and you move your grip up to her leg once more, securing it with a light hold as your eyes squeeze shut, pleasure shooting through you.
You've always loved the way Brittany looks when you enter her, but you also love the way you feel because it feels like the final missing puzzle piece. It's like you've always been this way, even though you weren't always, and after a few seconds, she picks her head back up, muscles in her neck tight as she tips your foreheads together and grinds back into you. Suction massages you, and your eyes roll into the back of your head when she makes her body moves in a wave, a move that only a dancer can do, kissing you when she can as you're at a strange angle, her half on her back but body facing the other way and you're taking her from behind.
You begin thrusting your hips, moving inside of her deeply and slowly and shift your hand until you're holding Brittany's, pressing it down against her stomach and it pulls the most heavenly moan out of the blonde that makes your heart beat a thousand times faster. You pant against her mouth as the speed picks up, the slapping sounds getting louder as your bodies collide, but you don't care. You don't care about anything else but her mewling quietly into your mouth, her breath hot and heavy against your face and you can see the way her face is screwing up, like she's in heaven.
Which is where you are as you memorise every inch of her face, taking in the crinkles by her eyes and the way her perfect lips hang open in a perfect 'o' as you slam into her, hitting the spots that you spent so many years learning. Her nails scratch at your scalp with the hand she still has beneath the pillow, fingers still wound tightly around strands of dark hair and she's so close, your hearts are so close that you could just mould into one and you think you might wake up after a lengthy, elaborate dream because you don't know how you got here.
You don't know how you fought, but you know you have a lot of doubts about the future and eternity, but you're sure you've found it in her. You're sure Brittany is your forever, is your eternity and you want her to know how overwhelmingly in love with her you are.
Except you don't get to do that.
Because it's when you're climbing that mountain of pleasure, when you're just about to reach the start of the peak that your moment is broken, and your mouth freezes against hers and the oxygen is sucked out the room at the sound of a door opening, rings volumes in your ears.
You're plucked out the bubble you're in with Brittany in a flash, your hips stilling when you're fully sheathed and pause, unable to move despite being buried as deeply as possible inside of her.
"Santana–Holy fucking God," comes from somewhere in the room and totally shell-shocked that you've just been walked in on, mid-session with Brittany, that you don't even register who it is or what the fuck is happening before you're reaching down to the sheet, tugging it over your bodies and sliding out of Brittany at the same time, whimpering at the loss of contact.
Because fuck, Quinn just walked in on you.
/
"Sugar, cover your eyes!"
Your entire body seizes when you realise that you and Brittany have just been disturbed barely a minute into reuniting physically (again), and you're grasping the cover, trying not to laugh when you duck your head beneath it to find Brittany already under there, now completely turned around and facing you, her face a bright red but her smile wide as you both hit with shock.
Fuck.
You can't believe that just happened and you've never been in this situation – not even back when you had 'friends' to stay over at your parents' house when you were a teenager – and so you don't know the right etiquette in which to handle this.
Do you poke your head out the covers to gauge the reaction?
Do you make a joke of it?
Do you throw a pillow at Quinn or just wait until you hear the door click, telling you that she's left?
You don't fucking know, but you do know that Brittany's taking it lightly because her hand is now covering her mouth but grinning guiltily, and her eyes are a sparkling sea blue as they flit between yours, waiting for your reaction. You haven't said or done anything bar removing yourself from between her legs, and you don't know how to do this, so you're just going to match the energy and that's when you see the hilarity of this.
It'll get funnier the longer you leave it, because it's like you're two kids who just got caught watching films on the iPad beneath the covers when you're supposed to be sleeping, but you haven't heard Quinn leave yet, and she's just yelled at Sugar, so you're guessing she isn't alone.
There was just a single door separating you, with no lock, and so you could've been more careful.
(A side note, for later.)
Anyway, it's a total buzzkill – unsurprisingly as how the hell could you still be turned on when the boner killer just walked in? – and as much as you're feeling totally blue balled and still wanting a much-needed release as you can still feel Brittany's juices coating your dick, you're starting to lose the heat and instead it's replaced with a cold fear. One you've felt before because it feels a lot like the time Quinn walked in on you after you and Brittany had fucked on her bedroom floor.
The least she could've done was wait until you'd finished, but you really can't think about that right now.
"What do we do?" Brittany whispers, her voice laced with amusement, and you grin at her, marvelling the way her hair is tousled and messy beneath the sheets. She's freaking adorable.
"I don't know," you reply, a little higher pitched than usual but you're freaked out. Someone just walked in on you and saw you fucking Brittany. Not exactly the most normal of situations. "I think she's still there."
Under the covers, it feels like it's just you two so you don't care that your friends can probably hear you, but Brittany chews her lip, and you can see her steeling herself for returning to the real world. You need to do it, too – you can't hide under here forever – and so you nod your head, acknowledging that it's time to face the music and at the same time, you both reach for the edge of the sheet and peel it back slowly, eyes peering over it like you're scared of what you're going to find.
You kind of are.
"Santana," Quinn deadpans when she meets your eyes, shifting them to the blonde. She's stood by the still open shared door, arms folded and face hard with Sugar peering over her shoulder with wide, amused eyes. At least she's laughing at it, too. "Brittany."
Yeah, it feels like you're back in high school, about to get your head bitten off for messing around with someone you used to, and as unamusing as she's finding it, you and Brittany (and Sugar) are finding it fucking hilarious and share a quick glance before stifling a laugh, lips sucked into mouths. This is pretty funny, but Quinn has no idea that you two aren't just fucking anymore and she's looking like a bottle of bleach to the brain would do her a favour and so you slowly stop chuckling, shifting further up the bed until your side is pressed against Brittany's as you lean against the headboard.
"You need to leave," Quinn snaps to Sugar behind her, and you raise your eyebrows in reaction.
The embarrassment has now drained away, and so has the hilarity of the situation, so the heaviness sinks in as you watch Sugar – who has her hands pressed to her face – walking into the doorway as Quinn steers her away, flapping her hands about like she needs to get rid of her before she unleashes hell on you. Which isn't warranted, but she doesn't know that, and you give Brittany another look, telling her that you should probably explain it as she has been there the whole way, and you've got to say something when Quinn's finished kicking Sugar out the room.
Brittany accepts the silent request, pushing her tongue to the back of her teeth like she doesn't want you to leave her, but you know you can't just tell Quinn to get the fuck out too and continue where you left off – as great as that would be – because firstly, you're considerably less aroused than you were a couple minutes ago, but secondly because for all Quinn knows, you two are just ignoring dealing with the feelings part and fucking your troubles away like you always have done, and you know how she reacted to that before.
But you don't get to slide out of bed, shuck on a few clothes and calm Quinn down, because she's slamming the shared door shut and spinning around, eyes wide and wild as she storms towards you with her fists clenched by her side, vibrating with anger.
"Are you fucking serious?" She screeches, and you feel Brittany recoil beside you at the sheer volume the other blonde is yelling at.
You lean in front of her instinctively, clenching your jaw and curling your upper lip into a snarl. Hell no, Quinn's not coming for you or Brittany. She's just poked the fucking bear.
"Back off, Quinn," you warn and you're probably not that intimidating because you've still got the bedsheet clutched against your chest, hair's a total mess and you were just interrupted in the middle of having sex with Brittany, but who cares? You're pissed and Quinn's not even bothering to hear what you have to say before lashing out at you.
(Not like you're the biggest advocate for lending an ear before reacting, but still.)
"No," Quinn snaps back, towering over the end of the bed, glaring down at you both. The little vein in the middle of her forehead is bulging, her eyes fierce and face red and you'd love to snap a picture to show her how ridiculous she looks, but you're otherwise occupied. "No, I won't because you two are still so fucking stupid," she follows up, tone hard and sharp and again, Brittany flinches, which makes you react in a bigger way this time.
You're scrambling for your boxers, sliding into them after swinging your legs off the side of the bed without further thought. You yank them up before rising to your feet, grabbing Quinn's arm and tugging her roughly her towards the shared door. Your grip is hard, and she yelps but you hope you leave a bruise because this is the least she deserves. Not only did she rudely interrupt you time with Brittany – which by the way happened because she didn't fucking knock – but she's obviously pissed she saw you two butt naked in the throes of passion, and you don't want to hear the tongue lashing she's going to deliver because you just don't need that right now.
There's a lot to explain, and it's not the damn time to sit through another 'Quinn special' of insults and flicks to the ear. Especially not in front of Brittany, even though you guess it probably could as she's heavily involved, but no, not after what Quinn just walked into. Not in this situation and you're not going to let Quinn burst the bubble of starting something new, but familiar.
She tugs from your grip, stumbling as she manages to get out of it and you snarl, ready to fight the bitch if she insists on trying to barge past you or yell some more. For once, you're good just communicating with you and Brittany, and Quinn needs to butt out. She's done her part, which you're still thankful for, but it's time you and Brittany handle this from here out, and had you done that a while ago, and just talked things through, it wouldn't have gone on for so damn long.
"Get off me."
"Get out," you retort but Quinn shakes her head instantly, scoffing as she looks between you and the other blonde. "Don't make me hurt you."
"You could try."
She doesn't seem bothered by your threat – it's always empty – but this time you genuinely could bitch slap her. "Watch it, Fabray," you hiss, taking a menacing step towards her. "Watch how you fucking talk to both of us," you grit out, and she hardens her glare, showing no remorse which just pisses you off more, but you've been best friends to know how to get her out of here. Even if it includes a little emotional manipulation, you're going to do it and not give a crap.
"I'll talk to you later, okay?" You try, but with a softer tone and you see Quinn relax, her shoulders less tense and you're trying to convey that this isn't the same, that you don't need a glass of wine and a chat about this, but you're not sure if she's picking up on it. After what was just interrupted, you'd rather not get a different type of physical and lay her out on the carpet. "This isn't a good time."
"When the fuck is?" Quinn chortles, shaking her head still as she's so obviously disappointed in you but that wasn't what she thinks it was, and if she'd give you a second to explain, you'd tell her but she's just out to anger you now by not listening. She won't and it's built up from years of having to deal with situations like she one she just walked in on, but clarity helps. Communication helps, you know that more than ever now and you just hope she's going to back off before she's starts seeing stars.
"Just get the fuck out," you say, warning her again with your tone but your eyes are softer, hidden from Brittany. You haven't even spared a look at her yet, scared it'll frighten her away and she'll get dressed and scurry off, leaving another conversation unspoken and Quinn's doing the thing that'll evoke such a reaction. "I'll come find you later."
Quinn clenches her jaw, nostrils flaring, and you can see the internal fight whether to continue, but you move your head left to right in the smallest of nods, telling her no. This isn't like other times. This is confusing by itself and you're not sure exactly what's going on, but you know it's good. It's completely different to the rest of the times – some of which she still isn't aware of – and her interception has helped massively in the past as it turns out, but you can say that later.
Not when she's just crashed your damn party.
She sees it, hazel eyes dropping down and the fight draining out of her, and she clicks her tongue loudly and as condescendingly as possible.
"I knew this door was going to be a fucking problem," she mutters, low enough that only you can hear but you just roll your eyes and open said door, ushering her out before you turn to face Brittany.
/
You flash a small, hesitant smile before returning to the bed.
You choose to sit on the end of it, not knowing if it's okay to slide back in beside Brittany, but she makes the next move and travels down the bed on her knees, swinging her legs over until she's sat next to you, grasping the edge of the footboard. You're still breathing heavily from the anger Quinn just made you feel, but you're starting to feel more relaxed now that Brittany's pressed up against your side, her pinkie stretching out to rub over the back of yours and you exhale shakily, eyes sliding to the right to meet hers, already looking back at you.
"You okay?" She asks, carefully, her tone cautious and you suck your lips into your mouth.
You honestly don't know. "I don't know," you shrug and her head cocks to the side, eyes narrowing into slits. "Are we okay?" You counter, needing to know the answer to that before you can answer her question, but she doesn't hesitate, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, and you know this is the moment to talk to her.
This is the moment you've desperately avoided before, trying to escape the possibility of heartbreak again, but something feels different now. After what happened last night, both on the terrace and then in the middle of the night, and then throw in starting to have sex five minutes ago, you think that it's a good thing for once and match the smile growing on her face as she answers.
"Yeah, I think so," Brittany nibbles on her bottom lip, looking nervous as anything but you don't want her to be. "I mean, I thought we were before…" Blue eyes flick towards the bed, and you duck your chin to your chest, blood rushing to your cheeks. You don't know how you still feel like this after ten years with her, but you're good with it. "Weren't we?"
You know she's referring to the fact you both said I love you during sex and the conversation you had when she woke up in the middle of the night. You don't think there's anything else you want to know, but it does strike you that you haven't been very giving with your side of things, but you don't know how to without looking like a total idiot. She won't care, and probably tell you it's okay but you know you've done wrong, and you don't know how to make up for it.
But you've still got to try.
"Definitely," you agree, breathlessly and in another mindset, you'd realise that you've basically said you're back together without those specific words, but the heaviness is tugging in your stomach and your hand reaches over, pulling hers into your lap and she looks at you, head turned. "I do wanna say something though," you add on, and Brittany narrows her eyes, like she doesn't really understand but there's something else there, too. Something that looks like fear, and you don't want her to read you wrong, but you need to get it off your chest.
"I'm sorry I didn't fight for us either," you start, and blue eyes almost disappear as she squints at you, a crease forming between her brows. "I was so tunnel visioned by grief that I couldn't see what you were doing or where we were going, and I should've known better," you sigh and the next breath you take is deep, tightening inside your chest.
Your eyes dart between hers, and you swallow against a thickening throat whilst you take a moment because you didn't prepare for this, even though you should've done, but you don't get to continue before she's shifting in her seat, and you pick up on the way her body is tensing like she's preparing herself, too. Your head cocks to the side in response because you don't understand why there's a sudden change in her body language, but she clears that up for you.
"You're scaring me," she admits, through a whisper and for some reason, it makes you laugh, which just makes her face twist even more.
"No–shit–no," you quickly blurt out, voice turning into a rasp as you realise this could sound a lot like you're about to admit you've done something that'll make getting back together harder, but you've never been good with words and usually when you do say a lot, it's for the purpose of insulting someone, so you get why she's being like this. You squeeze her hand gently, trying to comfort her and she exhales shakily. You just need to get your point of view out there.
"I should've learned from the first time," you refer to London and Brittany nods, like she gets it without you saying it, but you can still see she's scared of what you're going to say. "I should've realised that you don't need to be handled and I pushed you away, too, Britt, in a way that did that," you shrug, still hating yourself for being the way you were for the first four months. They were supposed to be critical ones where you could've clawed back your relationship, but you just made it worse by drowning your sorrows and only extended it.
"I just didn't know how to live without you," you chuckle out and she mirrors it, but there's tears falling from your eyes that contradict it, as your mind searches back over a decade ago, feeling the raw emotion collide heavily with your chest like it did when she got in that cab and went to the airport without you. That wasn't as bad as when she walked out on your almost eight months ago now, but to this day it still fucking hurts and that's going to be the hardest part of this, getting over it again.
But just like Quinn said, when have you two ever been easy? And when has anything worth it ever just been handed to you?
You have to fight for the happiness and life you want, and it was only when you started becoming you again, the naturally strong person who stood by your word and did whatever the fuck you wanted, that you realised you had more of a say than you thought. Had you realised that instead of just burying yourself into your work for the first four months, you could've made this process so much easier and opened yourself up.
Although you're fully aware the entire lack of communication made everything so much worse.
But communication isn't something you can force when you feel defeated. To communicate, you have to feel confident in your view and you were the total opposite of that. You thought Brittany was done with you, fell out of love with you and wanted to live separate lives. You thought she just up and left you without a care in the world, when now you find out she was only doing what you did for her, ten years ago.
(Ironically, had you communicated, you would've found out that was incredibly wrong, but hindsight is a beautiful thing.)
You've got her now, though.
Brittany's sat in front of you, eyes wide and innocent and still full of fear, and you can't believe you're so close to being back together that all that's left is to solidify it verbally.
Which is what you do.
"I know now I don't have to live without you," you croak out, your pulse thumping inside your mind, and you exhale slowly, through pursed lips, poking your tongue out to wet them as you prepare yourself to say the words you've wanted to say since she walked out that damn door. "We've never been easy, Britt," you start with a small shrug and her hands squeeze yours gently in an encouraging manner, her eyes locked on yours and you can already see the beginnings of a smile at her lips now, the fear slowly fading from sea blue.
"But we've always been worth it, and I want us to be us again," you state like it's the easiest thing in the world, and when she breaks out into a grin, her eyes sparkling so bright that you almost squint against the shine, the tight grip in your chest – the restriction you've felt since you two broke up – disappears, just like that, and then you can't stop the words from flowing. "I want to wake up with you and Lucas and I want me and you forever," you push her hands towards her, and she bounces in her seat, breathing a lot heavier than she was a second ago. She looks like she's just won the lottery. You understand that completely. "No more bullshit, no more radio silence," you follow up and you can feel your own face stretching into a grin as Brittany begins bobbing her head excitedly, like she can't wait for you to shut up. "Just us, okay?"
She doesn't give you another second to continue. There's so much more to say but it's so hard to remember what that is when she's tackling you back to the bed, pushing your lips together and sliding her tongue into your mouth, her hand trailing down your body until she can grip and flip, straddling you in one swift movement. Her hands come up to your face, holding your cheeks and you break for a split second, realising there's tears falling down her face on to yours but again, you don't care.
Because this is it. This is you and her, forever, and for the final time.
/
So maybe you get a little caught up in the kisses.
Maybe they go from relieved, breathless kisses to hot and heavy, hands grappling body parts type kissing.
Maybe you even get so overwhelmed by Brittany, Brittany, Brittany, that you don't even realise what you're doing until you're moving inside of her, and she's looking down at you, her hips rotating in a way that makes you press your head back into the pillow and bite your lip to stop yourself from coming too soon. You just hold her though, your arms wrapped around her body, and you have the battle for dominance that you're used to.
One second, she's riding you into next week, and then the next, you're flipping her over, taking advantage of being at the end of the bed still and grab her by the ankles, tugging her to the edge before burying yourself deeply into her as you're bent over the end, feet on the floor. She's giggling against your mouth and tugging at your hair, and you're remembering all the reasons why you fell in love with her as you make love to her.
You remember how she led you into her bedroom, the first time you slept together, removing her dress, and allowing you to marvel over her, even though you were downright terrified at the time.
You remember the second time you ever slept together, fuelled by jealousy of seeing her and Carl in the bar the night of the reunion and how it was animalistic and rough, taking her up against the toilet stall in the bathroom.
You remember years in the future, the first time you had sex after you broke up in Miami and how you were crying into each other and saying things with your bodies that your mouths just couldn't.
And in this moment, with her face twisting with pleasure, her eyes squeezed shut as she begins violently quaking beneath you, you wonder why you ever believed that sex couldn't fix the issues between you. Because, sure, the actual action itself never did, but it was like the time you shared together like this, so tightly intertwined that you could merge into each other and become one, were baby steps to realising that you could never have anything like this with anyone else.
Not just the sex part. The part where she's kissing you too softly for the way your bodies are moving. The part where she's holding your eyes steadily, panting into your mouth and fucking smiling as she rapidly approaches orgasm number two. The part where when you come to your own climax, you whisper those three little words and she not only says them back, but kisses you because she fucking means it, her tongue spelling out the letters against yours and honestly, you don't know how you ever thought you two could stay apart when you have this much of a fucking connection.
It just makes everything else pale in comparison.
Just like she said.
And the best part? You know it's going to be forever.
When she's looking into your eyes so deeply as you both ride out your orgasms, you're reminded of all the little things that lead you to find that damn engagement ring, and you think that maybe, you finally know what you're going to do to show her how much she means to you.
/
After, you lay in bed for a good ten minutes, trying to catch your breath.
You have no idea what time it is, or how pissed Quinn is going to be, or even how mad Sugar's definitely going to be because she had a whole day planned out and you've spent at least two hours fucking Brittany and solidifying your new relationship status. Or old. You're not really sure if it counts when you're exes.
Anyway, you don't really care because Brittany's in your arms, staring up at you with her hands beneath her chin, laying between your legs and you've been silent for the past ten minutes, but it's the most comfortable silence you've ever known. Her hair is wild, her eyes bright and lips swollen, and it's a reminder of what you've just been doing for God knows how long, and you bite your lip smiling because you're in fucking heaven and you can't quite believe it.
You're back together.
"What?" Brittany whispers, one of her hands coming up to trace lines along your collarbones.
Distracted for a second, you watch the movement but then she pokes down and your eyes flash to her, your smile guilty. "Sorry," you reply, lowly but she just scrunches her nose up and your stomach flips uncontrollably. "I was just thinking about us."
Her head cocks to the side, nose wrinkling. "In a good way?"
"In a very good way," you say, rolling your eyes which she grins to. She's too fucking cute, and you push back a strand of golden hair as it falls across her face. You don't want anything getting in the way of looking at her. "This is it, you know," you state, and she instantly knows what you mean.
"I hope so."
"It is," you entreat, and she exhales shakily, but smiles and nods her head. "Nothing can break us now, Britt," you say and your jaw clenches in reaction to the words, mostly because they're foreign to you. Before you broke up, you thought that, but you now feel entirely different and some part of you believes that what doesn't kill you does make you stronger, and this it'll apply to your relationship.
Even if you had your doubts along the way.
Which, really, is ridiculous because it turns out you were the only one. If you think back to all the conversations you've had, or heard about from Brittany, all you've heard is that everyone else has been eagerly awaiting to see if you two will end up back together. Everyone was always cheering you on, wanting the best for you two and even they knew that was each other. Everyone from the Fabray duo to Kurt, Mike to freaking Rachel Berry.
Although that reminds you that you still need to find and talk to Quinn. With the blissful bubble you're in, you don't want anything to jeopardise it and Quinn's waiting for you somewhere, probably ready to flick you in the air or just go ape shit on you, and that's so not what you need to pop that bubble.
Apparently, you must show your thoughts on your face because Brittany's finger comes up to your jaw from your collarbones, tipping it until your eyes meet hers again. You didn't even know they'd dropped back to the motions she was making on your skin as you were all up in your head.
"This is it now," she replies, blue eyes flitting between each of yours and holding them strong and you can see the seriousness behind them. It isn't often that Brittany's serious, so for you to see it now, after everything that's happened, you know that she means it. "I'm never leaving you again, and you're never leaving me," she continues, her tone matching her expression and you suck your lips into your mouth to conceal the grin that threatens, but it's too strong to fight. "But we probably should be getting back to the reunion," she adds and your smile twists into a pout that makes her frown like a kicked puppy. God, she's adorable. "I know, I know, but we can't just stay in here and have sex all day."
"I mean…" You trail off, waiting for her to tilt her head to the side at your pause, distracting her, to take advantage and pull her up your body by her arms until you're face to face, your hands moving down her ribs and around to her ass, grabbing the flesh. "We totally could," you purr and crane your neck, running the tip of your tongue up the muscle in her throat which makes her moan into your ear as she struggles to hold herself up with shaky hands beside your head. "The door doesn't lock," you muffle against her skin and press your lips down on her pulse point before pulling back to look her into dazed blue eyes. "But we can push the couch up against it so Quinn can't disturb us… Again," you quip and throw in a wink which makes Brittany chuckle.
And you know you're right. Back when Brittany came back from London, you literally spent twenty-four hours remembering each other's bodies and fucking every which way, everywhere in the apartment, just revelling in the bliss of being back together and Quinn knew better than to bother you then, without walking in on you mid-session, so why can't you do that now?
So what if Sugar and Rachel are going to be pissed off. They'll be happy when they find out you two have reunited and when you're in a situation with Brittany like the one you're in right now, it's hard to think of anything better or that'll drag you out of it. It's hard to think of anything bar a nuclear explosion that would make you want to put clothes on and head out into the real world, because this is everything you've missed in the past eight months. Brittany's skin, her smell, the way she looks at you and the way she knows your body better than you do… It's everything you cried yourself to sleep over because you'd been dumb enough to lose it.
But you won't again. You'll never make that mistake again.
"I'm actually madder at you for stopping than I was for her walking in on us," Brittany retorts and it catches you completely off guard, to the point where you jerk your head back and blink several times, thinking you just imagined what she said because she's beaming a grin at you.
But then you see the teasing glint in her eyes and smack her ass, biting your lip as she wiggles her hips in a way that'll get you hard in two seconds if she continues doing it. You're both completely naked, pressed up against each other in a very compromising position. One slip and you could be buried hilt deep inside of her for like, the seventh time today and the thought makes heat flare across your skin, your hips instinctively pushing up, so she yelps quietly when you press between her legs.
"Britt," you groan, pretending like you're totally not enjoying the way you can feel her getting wetter against your stomach, but she sits up laughing and swatting at your shoulder and begins tying her hair up with the band on her wrist. You don't follow, instead choosing to marvel over her body, your eyes following the lines in her stomach and you're licking your lips before you realise, your hands already moving down to her thighs, palms skimming up soft skin.
Then there's hands shooting down on top of yours, pressing down and stopping the movement and your eyes flash up to see Brittany staring down at you, her hair now in a tidy high pony but her eyes are narrowed, mouth open and you don't even need to stare for longer than two seconds to see where her mind has gone. Yours has gone the exact same way, but she does have a point. You probably shouldn't lock yourselves in the room and fuck each other into oblivion. This trip wasn't supposed to be about you two and you'd be a terrible friend if you ignored the real reasons why you're here.
Not that you care about that, or anything other than her and how naked she is, but Brittany will and so you guess you can pretend for a bit, too.
"Fine," you finally hiss, but your voice is light and playful and the blonde wiggles her hips one final time, ducking down to press a kiss to your lips before climbing legs off you and sitting on the edge of the bed.
"We always have tonight, remember," she quips, throwing a wink over her shoulder as she grabs a t-shirt and throws it over her head, and your face drops as you realise this isn't like the other times with you two. You're actually going to sleep together tonight, in the same bed, together again, like you used to be. Not even just to have sex, just to fall asleep and that's far more exciting than anything else going right now.
"I know, I know," you say, trying to play it off but Brittany stands, turning around to face you with a cocked head and a knowing smirk. "Okay, well now I know," you correct yourself and Brittany giggles, unable to resist as she leans back down and catches you in a kiss that steals the breath you try to take. It's far too short for your liking, and when she pulls back and stands upright again, you follow her with a pout, but she just backs away and grabs some of your fresh underwear out the top drawer of the chest in the corner.
Everything inside of you just wants to leap out of bed and rip the clothing from her hand, tossing it into the back room and her on the bed again, but you know you need to go and find Quinn and update her on everything. As incredible as the sex was, however many times you had it, you're kind of beat and even though she has like, a Santana specific superpower where she can turn you on like a light switch, regardless of your physical capability, you're not even sure if you could go again.
You're physically and emotionally drained, but you've never felt fucking better.
"I should probably go and find Quinn," you say and prop yourself up on your elbow, watching her move around the room to find new pieces of clothing to wear. "I mean, if I was her I'd probably want to bleach my brain after walking in on that, but I should talk to her before."
"Why?" Brittany questions, turning to throw a t-shirt at you with a pair of shorts with a smirk. "We're like, super sexy," she shrugs. "I'd totally be jealous of our sex if we weren't us."
You laugh and manoeuvre yourself to the edge of the bed, shrugging on the clothes from the floor before she wanders over to you, standing between your legs, her hands coming down to your shoulders. You tilt your head back to look at her and wait for a second, soaking in the way she looks at you, half-dressed, with a soft smile on her face and eyes so blue you've never seen anything like it, and you make a promise right then that you'll treasure every second you get to look at her, now you know what it's like to lose her again.
"Yeah, I guess you're right," you retort with a scrunch of your nose, and she giggles, the sound so heavenly you feel your soul lift from your body. You never want to stop making her laugh. "But I won't be gone for long," you add, and Brittany's smile drops into a sad one, but you skim your hands up the back of her thighs in a reassuring manner, your tone matching, and you think she knows you mean it in more than one way. You're never going to be gone for too long again and neither will she. "I promise."
Brittany rolls her eyes, but there's a smile on her lips as she lifts one hand from your shoulder, sticking out her pinkie. "Pinky promise?"
You let out another bark of laughter and hook your finger through hers, squeezing tightly but you use the grip to pull her down. You go to kiss her but pause just as your lips are a hairsbreadth apart and you hear the hitch in her throat, opening your eyes to meet hers.
"Pinky promise," you whisper and close the gap, sucking in her bottom lip as she exhales through her nose and sinks into the kiss.
/
