Chapter 5: No Right Turn On Red
In an instant Brittany goes from her happy place and being overcome with that euphoric adrenaline pumping through her veins feeling to watching the hood of Hunter's Mustang come unhinged and fly up to crack against her windshield. She doesn't see the sparks that flicker from the transmission but she does notice the flames that burst to life seconds later. Brittany's quickly aware of the fact that the car is on fire; she's still going really fast, and oh yeah.
She can't see where she's going.
"Shit!" Is the first word out of her mouth, followed closely by, "Fuuuck!"
Brittany's instincts tell her to swerve to save her life, her cars on fire and she can't see where she's going, but years of boosting and racing cars tells her the only way she's going to get out of this alive is by not panicking or making any rash decisions. But Brittany has never really been very good at not making rash decisions, which is why she abruptly swerves the car and promptly crashes into a streetlight pole just off the main street.
"Fucking shit." Brittany curses under her breath as she raises her forehead from where it smacked against her steering wheel. She supposes slamming into something is one way to stop an out of control car. The only issues that remain now are that the Mustang's immobile and still on fire.
She's quick to unbuckle her racing seatbelt that's strapped firmly in an x over her shoulders and chest, and scramble to open her door. Brittany hacks and coughs at the smoke that has quickly engulfed the car and her senses and she stumbles from the seat onto the asphalt glancing around in a blurry daze.
Brittany crawls on her hands and knees, oblivious to the nicks and cuts her fingers and knuckles suffer as she struggles over gravel and broken glass. Once she's out of the worst of the smoke and she can finally make out her surroundings she becomes vastly aware of the fact that neither Santana, nor her car, are anywhere in sight. She huffs angrily, though she shouldn't be surprised. She had a feeling that the woman would scram as fast as she could if given the chance.
Only when Brittany pulls herself, tired and painfully, to her feet does she recognize the distinct sound of sirens in the distance. With a groan she balances herself against a pole a few counts down from the one the Mustang is currently wrapped around. She takes deep breaths, trying to maintain her focus and stay conscious, she knows she hit her head a little and is at risk of a concussion. Not to mention all the smoke she's inhaled.
She struggles to calm her erratic breathing as panic begins to seize at her chest the closer the sirens get. For the first time in a long time, Brittany Pierce doesn't know what she's going to do. She can't drive the car away, the fact there are still flames licking from the front end makes that painfully obvious and she wasn't forward thinking enough to tell anyone where she was going or when they should expect her back. Yeah Quinn knows about the race, but not where it went down and not to check in on her if she doesn't show up within the hour.
To top it all off, Brittany becomes very much aware of the fact that she is also lacking her phone. Dammit, she really hates when she forgets the important things. The sirens are getting closer. She knows that the car has to be ditched, it's going to suck to deal with the aftermath of Hunter's reaction to her losing his car, but there's no way for her to get it out now, and she sure as hell can't stay with it. Brittany takes one more look at the mangled Mustang before she starts limping in the opposite direction. If she can make it to the buildings that line the street a little ways down, she has a better chance of at least hiding from the coppers and buying herself some time to figure things out.
Brittany manages to make it to the edge of the building just as she hears the tire squeal of at least three patrol cars swing around the sharp curve down the block and pull to a screeching stop by the Mustang. She leans her weight against the side of the building, looking just around the edge of it, exhausted and feeling faint as she watches the cops get out of their vehicles and start searching the immediate vicinity.
"Captain! I've got a blood trail!" One of the officers shouts pointing to an area on the sidewalk where Brittany had crawled away from the wreckage; she looks down at her hand and curses when she notices the cuts that crisscross her hands and fingers. The majority of the blood loss has stopped, but she must have lost enough to leave a little trail.
"This is fresh blood. Expand the perimeter boys! This has got to be the work of the Pierce Crew, and the culprit is probably still close to the area. I have my suspicions they are injured and possibly getting weaker by the moment!" Another officer calls out to the rest of the team and Brittany recognizes him as Captain Shuester, the blatantly incompetent local 'leader' of the Vegas Police Department.
Another wave of faintness rolls through Brittany's body and she feels her muscles cramp up and her skin begin to turn clammy. She's not doing so well and she's running out of time. She turns away from the crash scene and slinks further behind the cover of the building, sliding her weak body forward a little while using the brick and mortar as leverage.
She's only moved about eight feet down the alleyway when she hears shouts and footsteps getting closer. Brittany takes a deep breath and prepares to meet the coppers head on, if this is it she's not going down in a weak mess. Just as a gun is being angled around the edge of the building, a soft hand wraps around Brittany's waist and another one is placed over her mouth to muffle the noise that escapes her as she's tugged backwards through a door tucked and hidden in the side of the building.
Brittany watches in disbelief, her back pressed up tightly against her abductors front, small hands still wrapped around her, as the coppers that were only seconds away from discovering her run right past the dark doorway, with a little window to see through, that she's hiding behind without a second thought or glance in her direction.
When she's seemingly calmed down and the main threat has disappeared, the person releases their hold on Brittany and she spins around to face them. She's surprised to find an out of breath and scared eyed Santana staring her down.
She barely mumbles out a "You" before Santana is holding her finger to her lips and whispering for her to follow her while reaching out to take a hold of her hand. Brittany follows dumbly, not entirely sure what's just happened or if she's actually going through this. Because she reckons she could really be passed out on the asphalt dreaming this whole thing up. It's a possibility.
Santana ends up leading her through, what appears to be, a storage warehouse and Brittany finds the pressure on her hand actually grounding and welcoming. She was sure she was dead meat about five seconds ago, or at least jailbait. She shudders at that thought and inadvertently grips Santana's hand tighter. She'll follow the woman anywhere willingly if only for the moment.
They exit through the back of the building which empties into a wide open lot where Brittany immediately spots Santana's orange Nissan parked off to the area closest to the exit. She follows Santana towards the car and finds herself a tad reluctant to disengage from the woman's hand when they reach it. Apparently, it's not such a difficult task for Santana because she does so instantly.
Though, Brittany does notice the way Santana gives her hand a little squeeze before she lets go. The next second they are climbing into Santana's car and the beautiful woman is driving the two of them off from the immediate danger.
They can't go back to the shop, not yet. There's no way for the coppers to actually pin the Mustang and the accident on Brittany or Hunter because the car possessed a stolen VIN number and license plate and was not registered under either of their real names.
That's kind of how things have to run in the boosting business.
While that's a good thing for the crew, and Brittany because it means she can't just get nabbed because she left the car, it's not so much a good thing because it means the cops are more likely to stay around the area longer. It's the only way they could rightfully detain Brittany if they managed to catch her.
So in reality, Brittany could be looking at a long three or four hours in the car with Santana, and she really does want it to be awkward or tense. That kind of stuff will be no good for her already maxed out stress levels. She's thankful when Santana finds a secluded area to park her car, in a little lower road section under an overpass just off the highway.
Here they will be able to watch for coppers and know when the time is safe to come out. Santana puts the car in neutral and cuts the ignition, pulling the parking brake before she leans back in her seat and seemingly relaxes. The motion is followed by a long moment of silence that eventually causes Brittany to squirm. She's not really good with uncomfortable silences, plus she figures she at least owes Santana a thank you.
Clearing her throat, Brittany turns in her seat a little to face Santana.
"So, umm, thanks for coming back to get me."
Santana makes no movement to face Brittany, but there is a distinct fidgeting of her hands that leads Brittany to believe she's probably feeling a little strange about the whole situation as well. Santana finally softly shrugs her right shoulder. It's casual but very meaningful to Brittany.
"Yeah sure. I mean, why wouldn't I?"
Brittany barely catches the last part when Santana uncharacteristically mumbles it just under her breath. Brittany's brow furrows and she licks her lips, she's not sure if it's the words Santana is speaking or just the general presence of the woman that's getting her so flustered but she knows she can feel her heart shaking her ribcage and her palms are getting sweaty.
"I don't know. I guess I just figured that you wouldn't. You didn't have to." Brittany answers, sighing deeply when she considers the truth to the words. If Santana hadn't come back for her, she would have been detained and being taken into custody.
"Look, I know that you don't like me but I'm not the bitch you think I am. I came back for you because I'd never want to see anything shitty like that happen to you." Santana replies finally turning in her seat to face Brittany. She watches carefully as Brittany turns again in her own seat and fully faces her.
"I don't think you're a bitch, okay maybe you have a little bit of a sass issue but I mean who doesn't? The truth is I think you're rea-"
Brittany doesn't get to finish much of the rest of her thought because when she's fully turned and facing Santana, the other woman becomes acutely aware of the injury that plagues Brittany's face in the form of a half inch gash just above her right eye.
"Oh my god, Brittany! Your eye." Santana interrupts Brittany in the middle of her little speech before she reaches out gently and touches the area just shy of the gash. Blue eyes go wide at the proximity of Santana's hand and her face as the woman leans in closer to take a look at the wound, and it doesn't slip by Brittany the way her stomach does a few tumbles at the sound of her name coming out of Santana's glossy rose red lips.
She shrugs over the shiver that runs through her body in an attempt to mask it before discreetly swallowing the lump that's formed in the back of her throat and casually tries to brush off the seriousness of the injury.
"It's nothing. Just a scratch."
Santana's right eye quirks in such a manner that Brittany can just tell the woman's calling bullshit on everything she just said. The intensity of the look makes her gulp again. Santana's eyes soften after a few seconds of glancing over Brittany's face. She leans back a little and then turns to reach for something in her backseat.
"It's not nothing Britt. Let me get my first aid kit." Santana calls over her shoulder causing Brittany to inadvertently glance in the direction of the sound and her eyes go wide when she's met with the sight of Santana's very toned and accentuated ass right before her. Santana's wearing loose fitting jeans but her backside still manages to make quite the impression. Brittany forces herself to close her eyes before the other woman notices her admiration and things get really awkward. Then again, maybe things wouldn't get awkward at all.
"Here, scoot the seat back a little." The sound of Santana's voice draws Brittany back and she notices Santana hovering over her center console looking at her expectantly with a first aid kit in her hand. Brittany shakes her head out of the daze and reaches down to adjust the position of the seat, sliding it backwards as far as it will go. She's a tad unprepared for the actions that occur next.
"What are yo-" Brittany utters breathlessly as she watches Santana climb over to her side of the car and place her knees on either side of Brittany's hips, in a sense straddling her lap, before she sets the first aid kit down on the console to her right and braces herself by placing her left hand on Brittany's right shoulder.
"You're gonna have to hold onto me, I'm not as good with my right hand but the seating makes it a little difficult to use my left so I'll have to manage." Santana tells her and Brittany has to repel the sudden urge to moan because damn there's a really fine ass woman practically sitting in her lap telling her to put her hands on her. Brittany's entirely unsure of why her hands are being so awkward, held frozen away from Santana's side like scared little babies. Not to mention the fact that Santana's words are dripping with all kinds of innuendos.
Santana chuckles at Brittany's inability to function before she's glancing down at the woman's hands and raising her eyebrow in such a way that it spurs Brittany into action because the next second she's reaching out and placing her hands on Santana's hips. The only response the other woman lets on to is a soft smile before she reaches out to the first aid kit and grabs some antiseptic cleaner and some cotton balls.
"Shouldn't you be wearing gloves?" Brittany questions as she watches Santana douse the cotton ball in the disinfectant solution and reach out to her eye. Santana pauses for a second.
"I don't know, should I? Is your blood dangerous or something?"
Brittany chuckles but shakes her head.
"No, it's not dangerous." She says light heartedly, more than understanding the double meaning behind their whole conversation. Santana smiles and dabs the cotton ball along the trail of dried blood that's crusted on the side of Brittany's wound.
"Ow that stings." Brittany flinches and her grip on Santana's hips tightens momentarily. Santana chuckles.
"Don't be a baby."
Brittany rolls her eyes at that comment and has every intention of retorting but when she focuses again, brown eyes are regarding her with a careful focus. She feels the breath catch in her lungs. Santana smiles again, in such a way that makes Brittany almost positive the woman heard her reaction, before those mesmerizing eyes flicker back up to the gash at Brittany's eye. Santana is careful and meticulous as she cleans the wound.
A few minutes of comfortable silence go by, and Brittany tries to pull her eyes away from admiring and studying the beautiful features of Santana's face but finds that she can't seem to look away, and furthermore, she finds she doesn't really want to.
If you asked her, she'd flat out deny it, but Brittany is starting to wonder if all her hate and anger towards Santana was entirely misplaced. Sure the woman can be infuriatingly difficult, and undeniably hardheaded, but if Brittany's being completely honest those have always been things she's admired in a woman. Plus, it would be ridiculous to dispute the fact that Santana is probably the most attractive woman she's ever laid eyes on.
With her smooth and tan colored skin that looks like coffee with two and a half cups of cream stirred in. Eyes a shade of brown somewhere between dark chocolate and copper, giving them the illusion of being shiny and sparkling. Her eyelashes are thick and long and they brush over the apple of well-rounded cheekbones every time Santana blinks. And her lips? Brittany's staring at them right now and it's a difficult task not leaning in and pressing her own against them. They're round and poised in such a way that makes them so enticing and alluring, practically begging to be kissed.
Brittany feels a soft piece of gauze being placed over the gash above her eye and she glances up to the woman responsible for such tender care. She's a bit surprised to find Santana's face only an inch from her own, her tongue poking out the side of her mouth in deep concentration, her eyes locked directly on Brittany in such a way it tells Brittany that Santana has probably been doing it for a while, and she's probably fully aware of the equal staring Brittany herself has been doing.
There's a moment, just a brief one, where Brittany swears she sees Santana glance at her lips, but a second later they're right back to blue eyes.
"There, that should keep out infection and everything but you're likely to have a scar." Santana murmurs and goes to lean back, but Brittany finds herself tightening her hold on the woman's hips and keeping her close for a few seconds longer. She purposefully glances at Santana's lips when she utters out a 'Thank you' and then goes right back to gazing into those deep brown eyes.
Brittany's thumb dips under the material of Santana's top and brushes across her hipbone and she feels the woman shudder in her arms.
"You're really good at patching people up." Brittany speaks soft and quite, her eyes never leaving the brown of Santana's. She watches Santana's throat bob and her heart hammers against her chest at the action.
"Thanks, my uh, my dad was a doctor."
If the way Santana's head bows wasn't a giveaway, the sadness in her voice would lead Brittany to believe that there's distinct reason why she used the word 'was' rather than 'is'.
"I'm sorry." Brittany whispers, she's never been good at apologies. Apparently, Santana's not very good at taking them because she is suddenly leaning back in Brittany's lap and shuffling to get out. Brittany lets her go, realizing that moment is gone. She's left completely confused to the way her heart is still hammering in her chest right now, she's entirely sure this woman is doing things to her that no one has ever done before.
There are a few beats of silence as Santana settles herself back in her own seat.
"I'm sorry you crashed your car." Santana finally speaks up and Brittany whips her head up to gaze in her direction, almost unsure that she spoke at all. The words properly register in her brain and she gets a bitter taste in her mouth.
She decides there really isn't much she can do about it so she simply shrugs. "Not my car."
She can see the way Santana turns to glance at her out of the corner of her eye. There's a look of confusion pulled across her brow.
"Well I'm sorry you crashed Hunter's car."
Brittany chuckles as she recognizes Santana's sarcastic tone. She knows what the woman's really saying-she's sorry that Brittany had to be in that situation but she's not entirely feeling sorry for Hunter. She thinks that Santana's growing on her a little more second by second.
"Hunter's an asshole, so he kind of deserves it."
Santana bobs her head, whether in agreement or not Brittany's unsure, but she is glad that the silence has disappeared even though she's a tad surprised she's also enjoying talking to Santana.
"You really don't like him do you?" Santana inquires and receives another shrug from Brittany. "He's your brother though."
Brittany sighs at this. She's used to having to explain this part of her life, but that doesn't mean that she ever likes doing it.
"Just because my dad happened to be his sperm donor doesn't make us family. I mean technically it does, but it doesn't mean it feels like it. The only thing we really share besides a father is an interest in racing."
"What about your mom?" Santana knows it's the wrong question to ask before the entire thing even leaves her lips. Brittany immediately tenses in her seat and crosses her arms over her chest and Santana quickly realizes that the woman isn't going to talk about that subject anytime soon so she decides maybe it's time she herself elaborated on some things.
"I get it. Families are shitty sometimes, but you know every once and a while a person can surprise you." Santana starts to say and only when Brittany glances at her in curiosity does she continue, "When Hec and I were little I used to resent him. He just had his twenty-seventh birthday so he's six years older than me. He was always my papa's favorite. His little pride and joy and I despised it." She has a far off look about the whole thing that has Brittany interested. She finds herself turning her attention towards Santana and hoping she continues. Brittany is finding that she desperately wants to know more about this mysterious woman.
"When our parents died in a car accident when I was fifteen, Hec took care of me. I couldn't have asked for a better brother. Most twenty-one year olds would have given up and bailed but Hec stayed around and made sure I got through school and always had food to eat and a roof to sleep under. We got into street racing a little over a year after the accident happened, and somehow everything just clicked for us. It's not a really glamorous way to live, but you know it's the only way we know how. I just wish that he was here to help sort things out."
Santana trails off with the last bit of her sentence in such a way that it makes Brittany want to reach over and pat her arm and tell her it's all going to be okay. But she knows that would be a lie, nothing in their line of work is ever okay and every day is a struggle. Brittany figures it's probably a good thing that they have their crews, their family, and maybe it's a good thing they kind of have each other now too. Maybe?
She's about to speak up and say something, to offer something, anything. She's never really been the sentimental type but she's quickly realizing that maybe she doesn't have to be so guarded around Santana. That's definitely a surprise to her. Unfortunately, her chance is interrupted.
"I think I just saw the last of the cops abandon the area. The tow truck already took away the Mustang. It's probably safe to head back now." Santana speaks up, her voice a little strained and edgy sounding. Brittany furrows her eyebrows in the woman's direction but nods her head in consent. It's probably best they got back anyway, it's not like they could stay out here forever.
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Santana pulls the Nissan into the area right outside Brittany's shop a good fifteen silent minutes later. It's well past three a.m. in the morning, but strangely Brittany doesn't feel tired at all. There's another little moment of silence before she hears Santana take a deep breath and watches her turn to face her.
"I'm really sorry for all the shit trouble we may have caused you and even though you were kind of a royal bitch to me for most of the time here I'm grateful that we had somewhere to stay, if only for a little while. I'll inform my crew we're going to be heading out, we should be gone by tomorrow afternoon." Santana says solemnly and turns to exit the car.
Suddenly Brittany starts panicking. She realizes that Santana is admitting that she lost the race and is adhering to the bet they made before the whole thing went down. But that was back when Brittany was angry and confused about her emotions towards the other woman. That was before Brittany realized that maybe even if Santana can be upfront and straightforward about things, and really rude to some people, she's actually got a really big heart and she cares. It's not often that someone would help out a rival racer when they didn't have to, and if Brittany's being honest with herself about things she has to admit that Santana saved a lot more than her pride tonight.
If Santana hadn't come back and saved her, she'd likely be in jail right now awaiting arraignment on charges too long to list but ones that would almost certainly put her in prison for a long time. Brittany suddenly realizes that she's not ready to let Santana walk out of her life, not when she's maybe finally warming up to the idea of having her around in it. There still appears to be a lot of things Brittany needs to learn before she can truly write Santana off, besides she can't deny that she enjoys looking at the woman.
Maybe there will be room for something else later on? If Brittany thinks about it, it was probably fate's hand that Santana came into her life when she did.
"Wait!" Brittany finds herself shouting as she finally scrambles out of the car and walks in the direction that Santana has gone. The other woman stops instantly in her tracks and turns around to face an approaching Brittany.
"The race wasn't actually definitive, I mean there was definitely something wrong with the car so who's to say that it didn't affect the race. Besides that, there weren't any witnesses and I like to win fair and square."
Her words should be considered brass, even rude, but somehow or another, Santana picks up on the underlying kindness in Brittany's tone. It makes her heart flutter in her chest, maybe she wasn't wrong about the woman after all.
"Are you saying that-"
"We'll just have to have a rematch. Sometime when I can get a new and properly working car and there's no room for error. Until then, you and your crew are free to stay." Brittany interrupts Santana before she can even finish her sentence, but she avoids eye contact like it will be the death of her.
Santana smiles, she recognizes this type of play when it happens. She nods, silently accepting Brittany's kindness and offering her an unspoken thank you. She turns on her heel and starts to walk away but is stopped again by a shy voice trailing after her.
"And uh, by the way," Brittany starts to say and when Santana turns around the woman averts her blue eyes to the ground and wrings her hands in front of her body, "Thanks, you know for…that stuff you did back there." She says bashfully before one of her hands shoots to the back of her neck and rubs up and down in a nervous tick. Santana smirks I her direction, which leads to Brittany straightening up and narrowing her eyes right back at Santana. "And if you tell anyone I said that I'll go back to not liking you."
Santana cocks an eyebrow.
"Oh so you like me now?"
With a roll of her eyes and a very pointed go around of not looking directly at Santana for a few seconds she speaks, just barely above a whisper.
"You're tolerable I guess."
Santana smiles and holds her hand out.
"Friends then?"
Brittany regards the woman's hand thoughtfully with careful and methodical interest before she shrugs as if to say 'What the hell, why not' and reaches out to grasp Santana's hand.
"We'll start with acquaintances. I'm still at a yellow light about the whole friendship thing but I figure I at least owe you a chance to change my mind since you helped me out and all."
Santana shakes her head at the fact that Brittany can still be slightly arrogant despite the whole thing they've just been through. But she'll take what she can get. She reaches out and applies firm pressure to Brittany's hand, pulling the woman in so their faces are an inch apart. Brown, mysterious eyes dance all over Brittany's face for a few seconds before a coy grin spreads across her face.
"I think I can handle that, for now. After all, I'm really good at blowing through yellow lights. It's never meant slow down to me; I've always taken it as more of a 'Better speed up before you miss it'. Kind of like the whole 'no right turn on red' thing. Rules like those are meant to be broken." Santana says with a wink before she turns and saunters away from the shop, glancing back only once before she disappears.
Brittany shakes her head but can't fight the smile that spreads across her face. It only disappears when she turns around and comes face to face with Hunter.
"We need to talk." He says, his face void of any kind of emotion. Brittany grits her teeth but nods and reluctantly follows behind her brother, wondering what in the hell it could be about this time.
Longest chapter yet, and things are really just getting started! Thank you again to all!