I love your guesses about Santana's job and your reviews make me smile and blush. Thank you.

A special thanks to shesalreadyloved for proofreading this! If any of you interested readers would like to take over that task, I would surely appreciate. For the moment, my beta sipsofmymind is as busy as she is amazing.

On with the story.

XXIX

Mike calls Brittany to inform her it's a beautiful day outside. It's a sunny Saturday, and Santana is still out of town. Brittany agrees to that, and she knows she has no option when he says he'll be there in 20 and she better be ready.

He arrives hand in hand with Tina; they have a picnic basket. They're sweethearts who have been inseparable since high school; they're steady and reliable and Tina looks at Mike like he's the best thing she has ever had.

They go to a park and they lie on the grass; Mike has his head on Tina's stomach and Brittany has her head on Tina's thighs. Brittany stares at the sky and the three of them talk softly, in no rush, for hours.

XXX

The days stretch now that Santana isn't around; text messages aren't enough. Brittany goes to work and teaches and plans and eats, but sometimes she thinks of Santana and the way they fit.

XXXI

It's Friday and it's been a long week.

Brittany's phone rings when she's leaving work. "When you texted saying you were just about to leave, I thought you could use a ride." Santana says, and Brittany's heart races. She runs down the stairs, and when the building's doors open and she steps onto the street, Santana is leaning against the BMW.

She has a smug smile, like she knows exactly how charming she's being, with the car waiting for Brittany. She's in blue jeans and boots and a button down and a vest; Brittany has to stop to just look at her, because she has never seen her in anything less than power suits and tight dresses and this informal look is a sight for sore eyes.

She loves to look at Santana like this, when the sun is gentle and the night hasn't arrived. Santana skin looks the best in natural light, and Brittany walks to her and touches her face. "You're gorgeous," she says, settling in front of Santana so that their bodies are touching fully, and when the wind blows it's all wood and honey and Santana and they haven't seen each other in twelve whole days.

Santana's hands find the small of Brittany's back, making sure Brittany can't step away. "It's your eyes," she answers as her cold fingertips sneak under Brittany's shirt. They stay like that for a moment - Brittany wants to keep it all in her memory: the sun, the wind blowing locks of their hair, and Santana's smile.

XXXII

The car comes to a stop. "Maybe, you—" Brittany pauses. Santana is running her thumb on Brittany's thigh, and Brittany's legs are on top of Santana's, and even though Santana just said she would give Brittany a ride, maybe she would like to do something else too? "I thought, you know. You could come upstairs."

"Of course," Santana answers, the corners of her lips turning upwards in a slow smile. Brittany can't help but to stare, because Santana's lips are full and lustful and their last kiss was thirteen days before. Santana seems to have noticed, because she wets her lips with the tip of her tongue in the slowest of motions as she looks straight into Brittany's eyes.

Tony coughs and interrupts the moment. "So, when should I be back?"

"Don't worry about it." Santana answers, eyes never leaving Brittany's. "Enjoy your Friday night, Tony." She leaves the car and extends a hand for Brittany to take; Brittany raises her eyebrows at the nonchalant gesture, but takes it and gets off the car.

"And you haven't told me why you went away." Brittany teases as they enter the building. Their hands remain clasped together, palm against palm and fingers intertwined. Brittany's heart is racing in anticipation; the old elevator is taking too long; it's the first time she's going to be alone with Santana.

"But that would kill all the fun." Santana finally answers as the elevator doors open and they walk towards Brittany's apartment. "And you're the one who started this guessing game, not me." She looks awfully amused, holding back a smile. She lets go of Brittany's hand so the door can be opened.

For a second before the door opens, Brittany silently hopes that the place is clean and presentable.

XXXIII

There's not much to see, but she gives Santana the tour anyway. The living room with its gigantic DVD collection ("It's my roommate's, she's an actress") and gigantic Barbra Streisand poster ("It's probably nose inspiration for my roommate or something"); the tiny kitchen ("we don't actually cook anything beyond macaroni with vegan cheese or salads"); the white bathroom and, finally, Brittany's bedroom and its posters and pictures and magazines ("I like having pretty things on my walls").

Brittany pours some wine for the two of them. Santana stands behind her, hands on her waist. "I missed you." Santana tells her after a long silence. It's delicate and quiet and it's Brittany who turns around, places a hand on the back of Santana's neck and initiates their eighth kiss.

It's their best kiss so far. Santana's lips open promptly to Brittany, and she tilts her head just right, grasping Brittany's shirt. Brittany sucks on Santana's tongue, earning a moan, and Santana presses harder against Brittany the more she sucks and massages, so she takes her time.

Brittany uses the hand on the back of Santana's neck to take control of the kiss, biting Santana's lower lip, then her upper lip, and having her tongue enter Santana's mouth again, against the roof of her mouth, her teeth; their tongues slide together deliciously and Brittany whimpers.

It's not nearly enough; she walks them both a few steps until Santana is against a wall and Brittany's mouth is on that neck. Santana's breath is erratic as Brittany places wet kisses from the base of her neck to just below her ear; she growls when Brittany stops and sucks with purpose on her pulsing point.

Santana's hips jerk to meet Brittany's and it's just enough to create the first friction. "Kiss me." Santana demands, tugging at Brittany's hair and clashing their mouths together. It's all teeth and tongue and it hurts in a good way when Santana bites and pulls Brittany's lip and when she scratches Brittany's lower back like she means it.

Brittany hisses, and she can feel Santana's smile when they kiss again, lips already sore and sensitive. She places her thigh between Santana's, turning the smile into a long drawn moan. Brittany adds pressure and Santana holds on to her, head thrown back and lips parted, as she rolls her hips back and forth onto Brittany's thigh.

"I— I need" Santana tries to form words; her hand covers Brittany's breast and there's too much clothing in the way.

XXXIV

When Brittany hears two very familiar voices singing Don't Rain On My Parade and the front door busts open she almost curses. Santana freezes in place and the both of them turn their heads to see a short, pale, flamboyant young man and an even shorter, tanned, loud young woman enter the apartment singing their hearts out.

"Your friends, I hope?" Santana asks, still grabbing a handful of Brittany's shirt. The singing continues throughout the living room, and if there was any doubt about their state of drunkenness it ends when the both of them trip on the couch and fall on it, laughing.

"My roommate Rachel and her gay best friend Kurt," Brittany answers with a sigh and takes a step back. So much for a mood killer. "Who were supposed to be out late tonight."

"Rachel, look who's there!" Kurt says excitedly and stands up. "She has company." He adds in a very loud whisper.

"Santana, these are Kurt and Rachel. Guys, this is Santana." Brittany introduces Santana as politely as she can.

"I've heard about you." Rachel says, pointing drunkenly at Santana. Brittany's eyes widen; she told Rachel about Santana… But Rachel wasn't going to say anything, right? "I know you. You're all mystery and sexy clothes."

"Oh, really?" Santana looks entertained, at least. Brittany blushes furiously as she stands there, unsure of what to do and where to put her hands. Santana looks at Brittany and reaches for her hand, pulling her closer. "Do tell."

"I have drawn my own conclusions in this matter with my impressive powers of deduction." Rachel continues, ignoring Brittany's glare. "Tell us the truth, Santana: are you an international call girl?"

Santana laughs free and untamed, and she squeezes Brittany's hand. "I am not."

"Is Oprah your godmother? Are you Batwoman? Tell me everything!" Rachel approaches Santana, trying to look intimidating and failing. Santana shakes her head; Rachel huffs.

"Stop interrogating the poor girl, Rachel. Let's have cosmopolitans and behave like the well-educated, sexually flexible young people we are." Kurt places his hands on Rachel's shoulders and they immediately get distracted by the liquor cabinet.

Brittany looks at Santana. "I'm really, really, really sorry. When they drink they always get out of control and-"

"It's okay." Santana wraps her arms around Brittany and kisses her softly; Brittany closes her eyes and cups Santana's cheeks. She feels Santana's breathing and her humming against Brittany's lips. Brittany wishes she could always feel this warm, this calm. "It's not your fault."

"I missed you too." Brittany says, running a hand through Santana's hair.

"Good to know." Santana answers, laughing softly against Brittany collarbone when an impromptu duet of Defying Gravity begins. "Maybe I should go."

Kurt enters the kitchen holding a bottle of vodka. "Absolutely not! We must know everything about you and the hair products you use on that beautiful, lusty, silky dark hair."

XXXV

It ends up being a pleasant night; Kurt and Rachel are, first and foremost, entertainers. They make drinks and talk about musicals and movies and Santana does know a thing or two to keep the conversation going.

When West Side Story is mentioned, Santana sings America with a perfect Puerto Rican accent and a few choreographed gestures. Rachel looks absolutely delighted when they perform a duet of A Boy Like That.

"I didn't know you could sing." Brittany says, in awe. Her hand is nestled between Santana's, on her lap, and they're leaning against each other comfortably. There's something about having Santana physically close Brittany can't explain, something almost inevitable.

Santana shrugs and gives her a peck on the lips. "High school. No big deal," she answers. "I was in the school musical. Fun times," she rolls her eyes at Brittany's open mouth and nudges Brittany with her shoulder.

"She's a good one, Brittany." Kurt says, giving an approving nod to Santana over his cosmo. "I like her."

"I like her too." Brittany answers; Santana wraps an arm around her and kisses the place below her ear. Brittany shivers.