Title: Locksmith
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 12.9k
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 know it's been a while. I can only apologise and hope you enjoy!
/
You don't get to talk about it later.
Brittany occupies every part of you, soul, body, and mind in the few hours between shopping and going out tonight, and you guess Quinn was right; there's no way Brittany's leaving your side now you're back together as there's no chance you're going to leave hers. Not like you can complain when she's panting against your mouth, riding you into tomorrow on the armchair in the corner of the room when your group went separate ways – she took her top off to get dressed and you couldn't take the sight of her skin without yours pressed against it – and then you christened a few other areas of the suite, too.
You get dressed up into smart casual outfits after managing to find the strength to stay away from each other for more than three seconds, choosing to go for jeans and a leather jacket, as it was freaking freezing last on that terrace and who knows what tonight holds, and Brittany wanders out the bathroom in a small, black dress.
It's a classic, but it still makes your mouth run dry and you can't help but look at the time, wondering how quickly you could fuck her brains out before going downstairs, and she smirks at you but shakes her head, tongue clicking and pointer finger wagging in a way that makes you grip on to the lapels of your jacket so tight you could tear them off. Her telling you no just makes you want it more.
"We don't have time for that again," Brittany throws at you, a knowing smirk at her mouth and heads to the mirror, plumping her lips up as she applies a layer of gloss over them, staring at you through the reflection with a devious glint in her eye. "And I'd like to be able to walk tomorrow, you know."
You let out a throaty laugh, ignoring the heat of watching her limp tomorrow because of what you did to her about ten times already today, and head over to her, hugging her from behind and resting your chin on your shoulder. You're glad you're wearing boots and match her height and she does too, grinning at you as she puckers her lips up at herself in the mirror.
"We've got a lot of missed time to catch up on," you tease, dropping a kiss to her shoulder and then to her neck when she tilts it, like she's about three seconds away from giving in.
But she doesn't, the lip gloss dropping to the top and her hands moving to the top of yours, strategically making their way down the front of her stomach, stopping them at her hips. "Not that much," she whispers, and you look back at her reflection, seeing her bite her lip and you get what she's talking about.
Even during the eight months you were separated, you slept together, but you know it doesn't have to be hidden, like a dirty secret, anymore and it makes a shiver shoot down your spine. You let out a groan and let your hands fall slack on her hips, Brittany taking the opportunity to spin around in your arms and pull you closer.
"And we both know you're gonna get lucky tonight, even if you don't win anything downstairs," she quips with a wink and you chuckle as you kiss her, only getting to do it for three seconds before there's a repeated banging on the shared door and you whip your head around, ignoring the way Brittany tilts her forehead against your temple and exhales shakily.
If she does that again, you're going to block the door with the armchair you fucked her on earlier and just stay in here. You've only left once, to grab your clothes from your other room and you don't plan on leaving again unless it's with her but having someone disturb another moment with you and Brittany when you're coming anyway, when all you want to do is soak up everything you lived without for eight months, is just pissing you off.
Especially when you zone in and register that it's Quinn knocking. At least she learned something.
"C'mon," Brittany breathes into your ear and moves away, but continues touching you by lacing your fingers together. She tugs you to the door, shouting at Quinn through the door that you're coming before stopping at it, peering over her shoulder and grinning at you with intent. "Oh, and by the way? I'm not wearing any underwear," she whispers and winks.
Your face drops, heat flaring up low in your groin and you groan loudly, stumbling after her as she opens the door and you both head through it, giggling.
/
Apparently, you're getting lucky in several different ways today.
Maybe you did something to appease the higher power, or maybe this is just payback for all the bullcrap you've been put through this year, but either way, you're cool because you go on a slot machine with Sam after meeting the group and going to the casino floor, winning a few hundred dollars on your third spin and Brittany claps excitedly when she does the same. You take your chips in your little cups and wander around, seeing a few of your friends on different games like roulette, but then you spy a Blackjack table with Mike on it, and jut your head towards it, silently asking Brittany if she wants to play that.
She does, and grins widely and you both run over, sliding on to stools and Mike glance your way, smiling widely.
"Hey, guys."
You bump his shoulder lightly. "Hey, how you doing?"
Mike flashes Brittany a grin, mouthing hello to her but then pinches his lip up at the side when he processes your question. "Not my night," he replies and holds his hand out to stick on the cards in front of him, the croupier eying him. He's just stuck with 14, but it's not your game so whatever. The dealer wins though, taking Mike's cards and his bet, depositing on to the casino side and you frown when he groans loudly. "Maybe you'll have better luck."
You bob your head, sucking your lips in your mouth as you stare at the croupier and place down your bet. Brittany does the same, and you wait to be dealt your cards until you see an ace and smirk immediately. Having been successful on the slots, you're feeling brave and so you know you're going to play another hand after this regardless of the outcome, but you're feeling strangely confident today and it could be because you got laid like, a lot in the past twelve hours, but whatever it is, you don't care.
"You win," the croupier drones, sliding over double your bet and it happened so quickly, you don't understand until you register that your other card was a ten, and you've immediately got your money back double, and a bit more.
"San!" Brittany squeals, clapping her hand even though apparently, she lost her hand but she's grinning at you so widely, you know why you're so confident. You've always felt a million times better with her by your side, and you genuinely don't think anything could go wrong.
Maybe that's why you feel so confident, and on your next bet, you double your money and await the cards. It happens again, and you get a 21 and the dealer loses, and before you know it, there's a crowd of people surrounding you and following suite when Brittany places a few chips on your bet. Apparently, that's a thing and you start feeling cocky when a few strangers lean over do the same straight after your girlfriend, her squeezing your shoulder to make sure you notice.
You do, and you melt every time you win, and Brittany kisses you every damn time.
You're going to keep trying to outsmart the dealer if you get that as a prize.
/
Security comes over after you win for like, the tenth time.
They stand a fair distance away, whispering into small microphones pinned to their jackets but you ignore them, full well knowing that luck seems to be on your side and pretty much has been since you got on the damn plane to get here. You don't even know how someone could cheat at a casino game like this, even though there's probably a way, and after a few more hands, the guards walk away as the croupier nods his head, confirming that you're not a scam artist counting cards or whatever.
The crowd is still growing around you, as you seem to be the entertainment tonight, and most of your friends have joined in too, watching you climb into the few thousand dollars, which is hilarious as you only started with a hundred or so. You haven't used any of Sugar's money, not finding it sitting right when you think about winning money on her behalf. At least with these winnings, you can say you did it yourself.
Brittany's still behind you, hands clutching at your arm and your back and she's squeezing excitedly every time a card is flipped, and she takes the opportunity of the dealer swapping with another to speak to you.
"How are you doing this?" She asks, lowly in your ear.
You turn to face her, but she doesn't move back and the tips of your noses brush. "Guess I'm just lucky."
Blue eyes sparkle and Brittany giggles, kissing you softly, just once before scrunching her face up at you and your heart blossoms, a wide grin stretching across your face in response. But your moment is ruined when someone whacks you on the shoulder gently, and you snap your head around to see Quinn stood behind you now, craning her neck to peer at the stacks of chips sat on the table in front of you, hazel eyes widening and fair brows shooting up as she counts them.
"Jesus, Santana," she comments and returns her vision to you. "You're on one hell of a streak. What are you at?"
You laugh and look back at Brittany, shrugging. "I don't know. Couple thousand, I think," you answer and then pull all your chips towards you, ready to get away from the table. Part of why so many people get addictions to gambling is because they don't know when to stop, and you don't want to push your luck or fall into that statistic. "Think I'm done for now, though."
Quinn scoffs and her hand shoots out, palm down on your piles of chips, making them spill across the table. "No way," she states, like it's down to her whether you continue playing. "You could double your money with this streak," she adds on, and you narrow your eyes at her, seeing that she's trying to tell you something else. "Might help with something you may want to purchase… in the near future," she speaks the words slowly and all of a sudden, you understand what she means. The ring. More money means a nicer ring, and you can't really argue with that.
Still though, you don't want to slip into the danger zone and look towards Brittany, but she doesn't seem to pick up on what Quinn's talking about – probably because she has no reason to – and she just shrugs.
"I mean… You haven't lost a hand yet and you've played like, fifteen."
It's reasonable, and seeing as Brittany isn't telling you to stop, you don't think you're in any risk of picking up a new addiction – the one you have with her is bad enough – and so you shrug your shoulders and remove your hands and Quinn's, about to put your next bet out when Quinn drops into the stool beside you, handing over some cash and receiving her own chips. You eye her, curious as to why she isn't just jumping on the bet you're making seeing as it's you with the luck, but she just slides her eyes to you with a smirk.
"It might be the table that's lucky, not you," she reasons, and you're about to tell her that Mike didn't have the same luck when you first came over, but then again, it could be. "And me being here will make it more interesting for you," she throws in and yeah, she's got a point. Going against this bitch always thrills you. "Let's see who can make the most money, starting from now," she points to her chips, and you match the stack, the winnings stored beneath the ledge of the table.
"Bring it bitch."
/
Another half hour later, you're up by another couple hundred dollars or so and Quinn's scrambling to reach the original hundred she bet.
You're smug, and now thinking of how big you want the diamond on the engagement ring you might buy Brittany, but Quinn's put out and exhales heavily, throwing a single chip down instead of the few she's been doing in her prior hands. You haven't had to have such a reserve about your bets, feeling like you're being shone down upon from the gambling heavens because even with another change of dealer, you still continue your streak.
Which, you can't help but bring up again when Quinn doesn't stick with 17 and immediately gets burnt out with the next card.
"You know, if you stick with 16 on most of your hands, you'd probably be winning, too," you say to her, and she throws you a glare.
"I know how to count to 21, Santana," she hisses but you just laugh at her. "The odds are just in your favour."
You scoff loudly. "Okay, Hunger Games, calm down," you get out and Quinn's face breaks, realising what she said and then you're both laughing, but her eyes shoot behind you and you turn around to find Sam and Brittany coming over, drinks in hand.
They left a couple of minutes ago, and you stutter out your breath when Brittany beams a smile that lights up the entire room, and almost fall off your stool but then she's in front of you, pushing a drink into your hand but not removing her own when you grasp it. You look up, temporarily dazed by the ocean blue eyes staring down at you but then she's grinning and shaking her head, eyes rolling before she ducks down and kisses you in lieu of a greeting.
"How are you doing?"
"Great," you say breathlessly, but when she giggles you blink away the haze and realise she meant how are you doing with the game. Not you in yourself. You think she knows you're on cloud nine. "Oh," you choke and feel the blood rush to your cheeks, putting some space between you and your girlfriend and ignoring the way your body flinches when she finally takes her hand away from your glass. "I'm good–It's good," you stutter, and she scrunches her face up. "Quinn's lost like, two more hands and I've won them," you shrug, trying not to seem too smug, but you totally are.
"Oh, shut up," Quinn drones, clearly eavesdropping on your conversation and you glance to her. "Sam," she half-yells, beckoning over the guy who kisses her on the cheek and hands her a drink. "You have a go… This bitch needs to get taken off her pedestal," she mutters, waving her hand over to you.
You would argue, but you're enjoying it up here and you laugh, only stopping briefly when Sam speaks.
"I don't know how to play," he explains and looks around all of you, before back at the dealer who stifles a laughter, ducking his chin to his chest. "Numbers confuse me."
You thank God he's pretty, but Quinn frowns deeply and switches places with him anyway, immediately telling him the rules but you just turn your attention back to your blonde and see her gazing at you adoringly, like she was watching you talk to Quinn. It catches you off guard, mostly because you're still not adjusting to seeing her look at you like this when (if she has done during your break-up) you never noticed, and it's something that'll just take time.
But in the best way possible. The last time you had to adjust to something, it was life without her and that fucking sucked.
That doesn't matter anymore though, because you've got her here, and you take a sip of your drink as she does, both grinning widely afterwards because you're still just staring at each other. You're not sure you'll ever stop.
"Still feeling lucky?" She quirks, and you pull back, eyes squinting but a smile playing at your lips.
"Yeah… Why?"
Brittany doesn't answer verbally, just surges forward, and kisses you, stealing all oxygen from the room and you find yourself leaning in when she breaks it too soon, but then she speaks and you're blinking at her, face twisted with shock. "You're going to get luckier when we go upstairs," she purrs and kisses you again, harder this time and when she pulls back, it's closer than it was before, her voice lower and hand moving to lean on your thigh, eyebrows moving upwards in a small wag. "Maybe we could upgrade to the penthouse suite."
You know she's joking, but then you think about the magazine you scanned through earlier when you and Brittany were between sessions, and she told you that having sex on a bed with a mirror above it would be a total turn on and now you're thinking it might be a good idea.
She kisses you again when you don't answer, then the dealer is handing out the first cards and you turn your attention back to the table.
/
By the time you get to five thousand dollars, you decide it really is time to call it quits.
You can't believe you started with a just a hundred bucks, and you scoop all your chips towards you, without Quinn stopping you this time as she decided to go and drink with Rachel and Sugar at the nearby bar after you kept winning. Sam stayed sat beside you, and he lost a few hands, won some, and has ended up with five dollars, but he looks happier than ever, and you roll your eyes at him when he holds up his chip like it'll buy him a house.
There's still a crowd of people around you, who all groan when they realise you're getting up – you've filled a few pockets tonight – and you see Rachel, Sugar and Quinn come over, clutching onto each other so they don't fall over and cock their head to the side when they notice you and Brittany start counting the chips as you put them into a few cups. You're pretty sure you need a bag, and Brittany even asks for one, saying she'd prefer one of the ones she saw in a cowboy film once, but the croupier just stares her out and you take back the tip you slipped him. Douchebag.
"Where are you going?" Quinn asks, a slur present in her voice.
"I'm done now for sure," you say and shrug at her.
The fact you've got five thousand dollars isn't the only motivation to move away from the table. Brittany's been stroking the side of your neck for the past ten minutes and smirking at you in a way that makes you want to cash the chips in and throw all the dollar bills over her naked body on a King sized bed in the penthouse suite, and you're seriously debating doing that. Security has also increased again and you're probably two hands away from being dragged into a dark room for interrogation, and that'd be a total buzzkill, so you're good to leave now.
But Quinn is obviously still sour that neither her nor her boyfriend were half as lucky as you, and she steps forward, a challenge in her eyes.
"Why don't we make it more interesting?"
Brittany stops counting the chips, so do you, and you glance at her to see if she's interested as she's probably on the same brainwave as you with the whole naked cash scenario – you two always think alike in times like these – but she just narrows her eyes and shrugs, like she's intrigued to find out what that might be. Considering you've been on a winning streak since you touched down in Vegas, you feel like this could be fun and so fuck it, why not?
"What are you thinking?"
Quinn's lips tug up into a devious smile and you study her, trying to see why she's being so coy. "How about a bet?"
You can't help but scoff, looking back to the table and register the way Brittany tilts her head to the side like she's thinking the same thing as you. "I'm so confused about what we've been doing so far," you drone sarcastically, earning giggles from everyone around you but Quinn just steps closer.
"There's no way in hell someone can be that lucky," she says, hazel eyes flitting down to the many chips on the table still. Half of them are in cups, but there's still at least a hundred scattered on the green cloth. "And seeing as we now know it isn't the table, let's see if luck is on your side with other bets."
You don't know where she's going with this, but colour you intrigued. Luck has been on your side, and everything is going right and it's about freaking time to be honest. The past year has been total hell, and you've ended up in heaven, but it wasn't without battling your way through the fiery gates of hell first. Brittany's yours now, regardless of the current girlfriend status that you'll consider when you get back to New York and potentially upgrade, but spending your last night with Quinn grimacing in defeat just seems like too good of an opportunity to turn down and will make this weekend end on the perfect note.
"Hit me, Fabray."
Quinn's smirks turn into a grin, and you get a flash of panic when she glances at Brittany, then back to you, but the panic quickly seizes when she speaks. "If you get anything other than a straight Blackjack," she pauses for dramatic effect, and even a few of the strangers around the crowd lean in, interest piqued. "You have to run down the strip, topless."
It's trivial really because you've done way worse than that in your early adulthood. One of your very fond memories of Brittany and Quinn, when you first met them, was the first night you went out drinking and you ended up doing a dare from some college guy in a bar, taking your top off and standing on the bar, flashing everyone for a whole 20 seconds before security was throwing you out in the street on your ass.
This isn't really any different, but you also know that having luck on your side tonight, you're going to return your bet back on her because it'd be freaking hilarious to see the uptight Quinn Fabray bolting down the street with her tits out, and so you're going to accept, but with a twist.
"And if I do get it," you lean in towards Quinn and raise a brow. "You've got to do the same," you finish and the grin on Quinn's face drops.
"I'd be okay with that," Sam chimes in, lifting his shoulder and his girlfriend flashes him a glare.
"Me too," Rachel slurs, drunkenly clinging on to the blonde beside her and God, they're so fucking gay.
"Rachel," Quinn hisses, her face going a beet red, and it does pass over your mind why she's so affected by Rachel saying that, but her boyfriend doesn't get the same treatment, but then you're looking to Brittany and see her concealing a smile which lets you know she's caught on, too. Maybe they are banging behind everyone's backs.
"If Santana does get it, you can risk your dare for a double or nothing," Brittany pipes up and you frown at her, but she just shoots you a smirk. "You have to make out with Rachel and then both of you have to run down the street topless, if she gets it the hand after."
Looking a lot more sober than a second ago, Rachel picks her head up, eyes wide but face keen and Quinn looks like a deer in the freaking headlights, but you know she's had enough alcohol to think this is a good idea if everyone cheers them on, and you're glad it happens when Sam nods his head and even the crowd begins clapping their hands. They're just perverts who want to see some boobs, but you're down if you can tease Quinn and Rachel over their very obvious gayness toward each other. You really don't get why Sam isn't reacting more.
Still, it's a challenge and if there's one thing you've learned from being best friends with Quinn for thirteen years, is that she never backs down, and literally steps up to the table, twisting your around roughly with a shove to your shoulder to get you to play your hand.
"Deal."
/
Fourteen Years Ago
You'd known Quinn and Brittany for two weeks.
They were cool, and you all managed to bond over various things even though you were all so different, and your boss – Will – nicknamed you the Unholy Trinity because you guys together were dysfunctional, but it worked. It was enjoyable too, and when Quinn suggested you go out for a few drinks at a college bar, you were interested. You hadn't been in the city too long, after moving here alone and they were your first friends and apparently, ones you could get drunk with.
So, you accepted.
Before you knew it, you were stood at the door to Quinn's apartment, nervous as you hadn't knocked yet and you glanced down at your outfit, wishing you'd text them to see what they were wearing before you chose your own. That was something that friends did, but you found yourself way too interested in finding out about what happened on Brittany's shift when she called you afterwards, that you just sort of forgot about anything else.
But you shook those thoughts off, rapping your knuckles on the door and seconds later, it was swinging open and there was Brittany, stealing your breath as you looked her up and down. She was wearing a revealing dress, similar to yours, and you were no longer worried about what you were wearing and instead thinking of ways you could take Brittany's dress off, should you be given a chance.
Not that you should've been having those thoughts, but you were in the right time frame friendship wise that it wouldn't have been inappropriate to suggest a one-night stand, just so she could recommend you to other dancer friends. You had a thing for dancers, and you'd already gone running with both of them, so you knew what she looked like in workout gear, and it was all piling up rapidly.
Even if Quinn had warned you that you couldn't go there.
"Wow," Brittany breathed, interrupting your daze. "You look…" She trailed off, words disappearing as blue eyes looked you up and down, and you smirked to yourself because you knew when someone was attracted to you.
She didn't finish her sentence, instead meeting your eyes and you thought for a second you saw the blue darken, but then the door was being yanked further open and Quinn appeared, stepping in between you and completely slicing through the tension that was building.
"Damn, I knew I should've worn a dress," she commented, picking at her blouse and jeans, and spying you and Brittany's outfit. "I need to change."
Brittany laughed, you did too, and she grabbed your hand, pulling your over the threshold whilst Quinn muttered beneath her breath and disappeared into her bedroom, but you only got a few steps in before the blonde holding your arm dropped it and turned to look at you. Her eyes did a slow trail again, from the tips of your toes to the top of your head and you gulped but didn't ask her what she was doing. She wasn't even being subtle about her staring and when she finally met your gaze again, you couldn't help but tease her.
"You good, Britt?"
She grinned, biting her bottom lip and you felt a tension rise in the air around you again. She was the type of girl you'd go and hit on if you saw her at a bar, and you were kind of annoyed that Quinn had got in there the previous week and told you that if you made a move on Brittany, it'd make your trio awkward as hell and she wasn't down with that. Not that you had any type of long term loyalty toward her, but you acknowledged that the life you were living was one you were enjoying, and you had heard all the horror stories about sleeping with friends and it going wrong.
That wasn't something you wanted to do, as it turned out that as much as you were harbouring a little thing for Brittany, she was actually a really good friend and even if she wasn't dating that guy from her college anymore, she was still out of bounds.
But that just made you want to do it more.
"So much better now," Brittany finally answered, holding your eyes and that time, you gulped, brow raising. She'd flirted with you before, but you hadn't gone out with them when she was clearly going to make it a reoccurring habit if that's how she started off the night, and you began worrying about how you'd control yourself as there would be liquor coursing through your veins, reducing your control. It tended to make your emotions more prominent, even to the point of hysterical crying, but you didn't think that was going to happen that night.
If anything, you were more concerned you wouldn't be able to bite your tongue.
"How about this?" Came from the hallway, and you snapped your attention to Quinn, coming in from her bedroom in a flowy white dress. She looked like a freaking schoolteacher, but you held back on commenting on that, mostly because your head was still focused on Brittany and how she was still looking at you, even though your other friend had come out, wanting an opinion.
"You look cute, Q," Brittany replied, and you looked back to her to find her smirking at you as she eyed you up and down one last time before shifting her vision to Quinn and bouncing over to her, playing with her hair. "Let's curl your hair, though and send a picture to Puck to remind him what he's missing."
You just watched as the two blondes giggled together and skipped off to the bedroom, but not before Brittany turned over her shoulder and winked at you.
You were going to have to watch how much you drank.
/
As expected, you keep winning.
You won three times in a row, just to prove that Quinn had to go through with the dare Brittany had come up with and she scowled but grabbed Rachel and kissed her fiercely, and Rachel squealed but melted into it and it actually got so gay that you had to look away. Considering a few hours before, Rachel was telling you and Brittany off for making out in the mall, she didn't seem to apply those rules to her own life, and you threw an ice cube at their faces when it went on for a little too long.
Sam was still totally oblivious, even though he had to dart off to the bathroom, pretending like he wasn't getting a raging hard on and lifting the damn table up from beneath, and you laughed along with Brittany before telling them they didn't have to run down the strip naked. Them making out was horrifying enough, and Quinn scowled at you again, but Rachel just grinned dopily and said she wouldn't mind getting fresh air, but you insisted on not finding out how hairy her Jewish nipples were.
Anyway, you win a couple more hundred dollars, and all your friends join in with the dares, Sam having to stall an elevator with at least ten people inside, which he did much to those ten people's dismay, and even Mike came back and convinced a stranger that he was Jackie Chan's son but had spelt his ID wrong. Somehow they both managed to complete their dares, and everyone got a few dollars in their pocket too, so after Sugar does her dare and gets a piggyback ride from a member of security, you decide it really is time to quit.
You don't even know much money you have anymore, but Brittany's reminded you three times now that she's not wearing underwear and as much as you came here to celebrate Rachel's birthday and Sugar's fortune, you're super okay with retiring to your bedroom and fucking Brittany's brains out. You've been thinking about what you want to do to her (again) for like, the past half hour and she left for the bathroom like two minutes ago, saying if you don't leave soon, she's going to take care of herself, and you won't be allowed to watch.
And if she's doing that, you're going to want to watch. Then join in.
"Oh, come on," Quinn drones and she's way past the point of drunk. She's giggling at everything Rachel and Sam are saying, and Mike's had to stop her from falling off the stool like ten times now.
"Nah, I'm good," you sigh and scoop up your chips, tipping them into several cups. "I've already pushed it way too many times."
"Let's just continue with dares! They were so much fun!" Rachel screeches and you click your tongue at her.
"Volume, Berry," you hiss, and she recoils, smiling sheepishly, curling up into Quinn and snuggling her cheek against her shoulder. "If you want to make out with Quinn again, I don't think she'd exactly mind so just do it and give in to the gay, but for me?" You point to yourself. "I'm good. Think I've got like six thousand here," you say, studying the numbers engraved on the various array of colours in front of you.
Out the corner of your eye, you see Brittany coming over towards you and she slides up, arm curling around the low of your back and her other one resting on the table as she joins into the conversation, cocking her head. You don't get to explain that you're being told to continue on the lucky streak, hoping she'll join in and tell them you're not going to as you're far more interested in bending Brittany over the bar in your room.
You haven't christened that yet. You think it's the only place left.
"Britt," Quinn whines and you know she's going to try your girlfriend as you're way more stubborn than she is. "Tell Santana to keep playing," she continues, and Brittany laughs, scrunches her nose up at you briefly before shrugging at the other blonde again. You roll your eyes, knowing that if Brittany did tell you to, you probably would as you'd literally do anything for her, but you're pretty sure she's just as impatient as you are right now.
"I think we should all go back to our rooms before you two start having sex on the table," Brittany shoots back, making Quinn shut up immediately, Rachel bug her eyes open but slide them to the left towards the blonde like she isn't totally opposed to the idea, but that will make you want to bleach your brain. No way in hell those two are going to bone before you and Brittany get to again. Even if you've spent the whole day having sex.
"Can I join in?" Sam throws in, obviously seeing an opportunity and you laugh through your nose. You really don't think Quinn and Rachel are going to say yes if they were to go a little crazy in Vegas and throw caution to the wind, but you're really not interested.
"You two are lame," Quinn spits, hugging like a petulant child and folds her arms, completely ignoring Sam's request and Rachel's interest. "How about one more dare, then?"
Considering you've tried to leave the table like, three times prior to this, you know that one more bet can't do much harm and it'll probably get them to shut up finally and leave, and you look to Brittany who just shrugs. The memories that have been formed tonight are going to be lifelong, and you've actually had a really great weekend and the last thing you need is drunk Quinn to be stroppy and irritating, so you can oblige, this one last time.
"Fine…" You roll your eyes but smile. "Just one more," you finally agree and all your friends grin, Sam and Mike high-fiving like jocks do after scoring a touchdown. "What we thinking? A thousand dollar bet? Can't say no for an hour?"
Quinn narrows her eyes, shifting them to the table then back to you and you can see the cogs turning in her mind. She's a devious bitch and up until now, her dares towards you have been pretty tame and you're waiting for the ultimate dare. You've won most of your hands, so you haven't actually had to do any of them and now you're starting to panic, cursing that you've been drinking tonight as maybe you would've picked up on the shift in the air when everyone goes too quiet.
Except when you look to Brittany, you realise that everyone's gone quiet because she's tilting her head to the side, lips sucked into her mouth like she's about to say something and now you're far more interested in knowing what she's going to suggest. Maybe you can use the 'don't say no' dare for her back up in you room. Not like you've ever said no to her sexually before – she's taken you places you only ever dreamt of – but the longer you stare at her, the more you see the seriousness behind her eyes and how she's opening her mouth, then closing it, then opening it again like she's debating suggesting whatever is in her head.
"What you thinking, Britt?"
You look to Quinn who asked the question, but quickly turn back to Brittany and reach out, tangling your fingers together. "Yeah, what you thinking?"
Brittany's mouth pops open again, her entire demeanour now slipping into one you're not privy to with your current relationship status – you were used to her looking nervous when you were broken up – but it's making you uncomfortable. You're no longer feeling the buzz of your winnings in the air, instead entirely concerned that she's gone from looking super happy to super shifty and as much as you want to do this final dare, you don't want her to be put off that you accepted and so you're going to tell her you won't do it.
"I won't do it if you wanna go to bed," you quickly suggest, but Brittany shakes her head immediately, dismissing your assumption of her mood change and it should make you feel better, but it doesn't. Now you're feeling panicky and getting that hot sweat beneath your boobs, the heat creeping up your spine. Did you do something wrong?
"No… No it's not that," she affirms, and you let out a heavy breath, blue eyes finally meeting yours. "I just… I thought of a bet," she whispers, but you don't get why the low tone as everyone's been vocal about it.
Seems like Quinn's picking up on the shift too, and she steps around Sam, releasing Rachel from her grasp – that she's been in for like, two hours now – and moves over to Brittany, arms folding across her chest as she smirks at you. What is that bitch up to?
"What is it?"
Brittany inhales shakily, squeezing your hand and taking your other one, and you immediately dislike the way she's about to talk to you because the last time she did this, you were talking about your relationship and yup, you're definitely panicking now. Maybe you've been on cloud nine so much that you were clouded to the realisation that maybe you've been moving too fast and got too comfortable too quickly.
But no. No that's ridiculous because Brittany's your girlfriend again and so you need to stop this overthinking shit. You've done enough of that for a lifetime.
"Santana," Brittany starts, and it's a rarity that she uses your full name, so you swallow thickly, but nod, your nerves sparking beneath your skin. Her body is now facing you, like she's directly talking to you and you're even more confused as everyone's leaning in, obviously in earshot and they're kind of involved in this whole dare thing, but you're good if Brittany's giving you it. She won't make you run down the strip topless, or monkey climb a stranger and ride him like you're in a rodeo until you're thrown off.
"If you don't get a 21 on your next hand," she continues, but her voice is airy, and you've known her for long enough to recognise when she's nervous. "You have to buy us all lunch tomorrow before we get on the flight," she suggests, and you frown.
That's a little more toned down than you were thinking, and you release a heavy exhale as you lean back, a smile gracing your face because thank God she said that. You don't know where you thought she was going, but you were panicking, and everyone laughs when they see you relax. Your heart briefly returns to normal, after almost becoming deafeningly loud in your ears and you take a second to smile at the dealer who impatiently taps the table like he's waiting for someone to place a bet – your whole group is occupying every stool – and you almost calm down.
But then you hear the next few words, and you freeze for a whole other reason.
"But if you do get a 21…" Brittany follows up, squeezing your hands reassuringly and lowering her head to look into your eyes, even though hers briefly flit around the circle like she's scared of what she's about to say. "An ace and a 10," she confirms, as it's the least likely hand to pull straight away. "We get married."
And your heart stops.
/
Fourteen Years Ago Cont.
You, Quinn, and Brittany all ended up in the college bar you spoke about.
You had no idea why you went, as you barely liked going to your classes, let alone hang around with the idiots that you had to sit amongst whilst you were there, but due to the blood alcohol content, it seemed like a good idea and hell, you got loads of drinks bought for you by frat guys. They all took their turns in hitting on you and your friends, and after shooting down dude after dude, insisting you were into chicks which just turned them on more, you decided to get venomous.
Nothing too out there – you didn't want to scare your new friends away – but just a few harsh words that made the next frat guys scurry away with their tail between their legs and tell their friends.
Then you spent the rest of your night by the bar, enjoying watching Brittany dancing by herself, looking like she was in her element as she closed her eyes, wrapped her arms around herself and swayed along to the heavy beat playing from the speakers overhead. Quinn was happily getting hit on by one specific college douchebag down the other end of the bar, so you were good just enjoying the night by yourself.
Well, until the last guy came up to hit on you, and that's where it got interesting.
"Mamacita," the guy said, sliding up beside you, in the empty spot that you'd managed to keep vacant for ten minutes. He was wearing a baseball cap backwards, and a shirt with Greek symbols on it, but you weren't too interesting in finding anything out about him. Mostly because you probably had a bigger dick than him, and you were borderline about to reveal your secret if they didn't stop coming over. "What's a pretty thing like you doing all alone over here?"
"Beat it, Chad," you hissed, not even turning your head as you sipped on your drink. You didn't know if that was his name, but all Chad's are idiots, and he was fitting the description. "Your douchebag friends have already tried hitting on me tonight and I'm shocked you haven't heard that we not only bat for the same team," you finally looked at him with a smirk. "But with me around, you have no chance with the opposition."
He didn't get what you were saying, far too busy with checking you out and you snapped your fingers in front of him, ready to snap something else of his once it got hard with a single touch, but then there was a body sliding in behind you, an arm wrapping around your waist. The first instinct was to push them off, but then you inhaled, preparing yourself to fight the person if it was just another college frat douche, but came face to face with Brittany instead when you looked up, drunkenly gazing down at you.
"Hey, beautiful," she greeted, and you had to put everything you had inside of you not to react or fucking squeak at the new nickname. "Did you get me a drink?"
You frowned, but you could see something in her eyes and slid them to the college guy who was looking between you, not knowing what was going on either. You just needed to go with the flow though. You didn't know why, but you trusted Brittany.
"Uh, yeah, babe," you replied, watching Brittany's lips quirk at the nickname.
But she shook out of it quicker, raising both brows at the guy that approached you. "Are you done hitting on my girl here? Your cologne is kind of making me want to vomit. Did you get it fresh from the skunk, or…"
Chad – or whatever his name was – blinked incredulously before clicking on to what was going on, at the same time you did. Brittany was holding you close, her arm warm around you and fingers spanning beneath your shirt and as distracting as that was, you were incredibly aware that you'd been telling guys you were a lesbian, and Brittany must have caught wind of it and was trying to back you up. Plus she was being all kinds of hot saying shit like 'my girl' and you just ended up staring up at her, mouth open and eyes wide.
You were really starting to like her.
"Uh, yeah. No–yeah," the guy spluttered out, straightening up and widening his eyes like he was intimidated by Brittany. You thought you were the more intimidating of the two, but when you took in the way she was half-leaning over, protecting you and getting up in his grill, you realised that without knowing her, she might seem feisty. She looked like she was about two seconds away from slapping him so hard it'd be his graduation before he knew it. "Me and my buddies wanted to know if you and your friends were up for a game of truth or dare, actually."
It was lame, but it would be a way of getting free drinks and he didn't seem to be continuing to hit on you or whatever, so you glanced at Brittany to see if she was down and shrugged yourself. Even if it was a diversion tactic or a way or saving face, the offer seemed like a decent one as you were kind of getting bored and spending the night pretending Brittany was your girlfriend was a scarily enticing idea.
You blamed the alcohol for that.
"Sure," Brittany chirped. "Can we bring our other friend?" She pointed towards Quinn at the other end of the bar who was staring your direction.
The frat guy looked over his shoulders, eyebrows shooting up and disappearing beneath his baseball cap when he saw Quinn, and you couldn't help but laugh. You three together were like, the ultimate hotness, especially when in his eyes, you and Brittany were a couple.
It was like a teenagers wet dream.
"You can bring as many friends as you like," he finally choked out, turning back with wide eyes and a slack jaw. "We're buying."
You looked at Brittany and smirked.
She just smirked back.
/
You can't believe Brittany just said that.
At the same time your mouth drops open, your eyes shoot to Quinn, your brain instantly thinking she must have said something to Brittany or Sam, and there's been talk behind your back, but she just shrugs and looks equally as flabbergasted as you do, so you assume she didn't. Still, that doesn't quell the fear striking through your chest as you return your vision to your girlfriend and find her chewing on her bottom lip with her eyebrows pinched together like she's scared, too.
Just of your answer instead, and not the freaking question she asked.
"I know it's soon considering we just got back together," she explains, but the sound of your heart pounding inside your ribcage almost drowns out her wavering voice. "But I mean… It's Vegas," she shrugs like she isn't suggesting you go and do the thing you were planning on doing when you found the right ring. She's basically freaking proposing to you and there's a pinch of disappointment in your chest because she got there first but still, you listen because you've got literally nothing else in your head right now.
Your mind is running a complete blank.
"We've loved each other forever and we've got all of our friends here," she continues, waving a shaky hand out to the several faces surrounding you, all equally as shocked as you are but her eyes return back to you, and you can see how nervous she is. You are, too, but mostly because you've been nervous since you told Quinn about what your plans were. "I-I just wanna marry you, Santana," she adds on, grabbing your left hand and holding it, a thumb stroking over your ring finger and your heart almost fucking stops. That's the first time you've ever heard her say that and it's like a dream come true, but you're far too numb to realise it. "I know it's soon, but… Why not?"
You don't answer immediately, your mind running with the right thing to say because half of you wants to ask her if she caught you in the jewellery store earlier, but the other half just wants to blurt out yes because you were going to do it anyway. But you wanted to be the one, and you suppose in the grand scheme of things, it really doesn't matter because it's better that she wants to marry you just as much as you want to marry her and that mere thought cracks the stoic expression on your face, the softest of smiles tugging at the corners of your lips.
"Brittany," you choke, clearing your throat when you hear how strained your voice is.
She must hear it wrong or read your face wrong – for the first time ever – because you hear her gasp, watch her drop her chin to her chest and it snaps you back into action as you shoot off the stool, climbing to your feet and grabbing her other hand, tugging her so she's facing you like she did to you when she said it initially. You glance around, taking note that every single pair of eyes in the immediate vicinity are on you – some people you don't even know – and you would feel the heat on your cheeks, but you need to correct her.
You are not about to say no and now is not the time for miscommunication.
"No, Britt, look at me," you demand gently. Brittany lifts her head, and her eyes meet yours again, and all you can see is how scared and vulnerable she is but all you can do is freaking smile which adds confusion into her expression. "It's not a no, I promise," you blurt out and she jerks her head back. You can feel the panic setting in and you just need to explain. "I was just thrown off because I was in a store earlier looking for a ring because I wanted to propose to you and you just–"
"You were going to propose?" Rachel screeches, interrupting the conversation but by the time you flash a glare at her, Quinn's already swiping her in the bicep and hissing at her, making the brunette recoil and press her lips together in a guilty smile as she shuts up for the first time ever.
You manage to thank your best friend with a nod of your head, and Quinn sucks her lips into her mouth, hiding the proud grin you know is on her face as you return your attention back to Brittany, but she's just staring wide eyed, all shock and vulnerability gone from her face and replaced with complete happiness. Blue eyes are sparkling, tears forming in them that just make them look even more beautiful and you know her chest is rising and falling rapidly now not from fear, but for the same reason yours is doing it, too.
You're actually doing this.
"I wanted to ask you while we're here," you manage to force out, pushing away the nerves that begin sparking beneath your skin. You don't need to be scared. She's smiling at you, and you'd be shocked you're not more nervous, but it just feels right. "And I tried to find a ring earlier that I could see you saying yes to, but we were all shopping and time ran out and–"
You don't get to finish the sentence because Brittany's surging forward, throwing her arms around your neck and pressing your lips together. She kisses you hard, not able to deepen it as she begins sobbing quietly and you know what that means before you even hear it. Still, Brittany's kissing you and that's all sorts of distracting, so you let it go on for a couple seconds, ignoring the way Rachel sighs loudly as your hands settle on your girlfriends hips and you only pull back to tip your foreheads together.
"Yes," she breathes, nodding her head as much as she can in this position. "Yes, yes, yes."
The biggest grin stretches across your face, and even if you know you technically haven't asked her the question outright, she wants to marry you anyway. You're going to marry the hell out of her, and you honestly don't know how to control the emotion bursting through your chest, lodging in your throat, so you don't even try. You just kiss her again, tears falling on to your cheeks and you have no idea if it's from you or her, but you don't care.
You think you and Brittany just got engaged.
"Yes?" You squeak, reeling back. She's just said yes four fucking times but since you two have got back together, it's been like a dream, and you're still convinced that you'll wake up tomorrow in a different life, with no Brittany by your side and your heart still in a million pieces. There's no way in hell you're this lucky, so you just need to like, triple check.
"Yes," she breathes against your mouth, her fingertips toying with the hairs at the back of your neck as she nods. "I want to marry you," she states, and the words shoot through your core until you know it's you crying this time. "I want to be your wife, and be a Lopez officially, and I want to go home and live together forever with our family and have everything we've ever dreamed of."
Brittany's the one rambling this time, and you choke out a laugh as you kiss her again, unable to keep it going for too long as the sheer excitement of leaving the casino and finding the nearest chapel burns through you. But then you hear someone clear their throat from behind and turn your head, Brittany's forehead tipping against your temple as she clearly doesn't care who's trying to interrupt your moment, but this is a big deal and if you didn't find Quinn on the end of the sound, you probably would've slapped someone.
Mostly because you kind of expected it to be Berry.
"I think that's a good bet," Quinn whispers, the first person outside of you two to speak and she grins at you widely, eyes flitting to Rachel who sighs again super fucking loudly and then Sam who throws his fist into the air and starts cheering. Earlier, she said it was too soon, but she knows now that it's not and so do you because you weren't the one to bring it up, and even though you're half in shock still, unable to process how you went from winning thousands of dollars to potentially marrying the love of your life, you don't care.
All you care about is that Brittany's on the same wavelength as you – she always has been – and this is left up to fate. All of this is based on you winning another hand, and you've been lucky, so you think the odds are in your favour, just like Quinn said, so you think that fate is on your side, too. It was fate that led you to that store today, and fate that obviously steered Brittany towards the same thought and so fuck it, you're going to late that invisible force take the reins this time.
If it's meant to be, it'll be, and the confidence you feel now is ten thousand times more powerful than when you won your tenth hand, so you think you're good.
"Ready to deal?" The croupier asks, looking entirely confused but this kind of thing happens all the time with your group, so it's probably strange to people not involved, but you don't let that ruin the moment and Brittany looks you in the eye when you glance at her again, hope and excitement shining through her ocean eyes.
That's all you need to say yes, and you kiss her one more time, fingers sliding through hers as everyone turns to the table and the cards are handed over.
/
Fourteen Years Ago Cont.
The truths became kind of boring, so the game turned into one ridiculous dare after another.
The frat guys become a little boring too, so you end up paying as much attention to Brittany as possible and thoroughly enjoying the way she kept pressed up against you in the booth the entire time. Somewhere along the line, she looped your pinkies together and it was weird at first, but you were drunk, and she smelt and felt good, so you were cool with it. Plus, it also reinforced the lie given to those guys that you two were together, so no dares were sent your way to do things like make out with a bartender or convince a stranger to swap underwear.
Unfortunately for Quinn, it meant she got most of the dares involving others, but the college douchebags were so enamoured by how insanely attractive you and Brittany were as a supposed couple that they just kept daring you two to make out, but you didn't. You pretended it was because you weren't a performing monkey, but really it was because you didn't know if you could handle kissing Brittany.
As much as you wanted to earlier in the evening, the longer you spent with her, the longer you realised she could be a best friend to you, and you needed that. You had no problem with finding overnight company or someone to stick your tongue down their throat, but Quinn's warning was repeating in your brain, and you knew it wouldn't be the best idea to follow your other brain and just let it run wild.
Quinn did have a point. It would make things awkward if it went wrong and ended up being another standard one night stand.
(Even if you felt like it wouldn't be, but what did you know?)
Still, most of the dares you were given were tame until one of the guys called you lame, and you flashed a glare at him whilst Brittany squeezed your hand underneath the table, a warning to calm down. She didn't even know you that well, but somehow she already knew how to read your moves before you even made them, but it only stopped your body from slapping him. You still had your tongue to use, even if she could definitely put that to better use, too.
"What did you say, Spunk Monkey?"
The frat guy eyed you, brows shooting up to his already receding hairline and Brittany giggled next to you, clearly enjoying your choice of insult. "Uh–Just that y-you guys aren't doing dares like we are," he stuttered out, obviously sensing your ability to tear apart his scrotum and you smiled smugly at him as Quinn leant forward.
"I wouldn't usually agree with someone who's age matches their IQ," she said and that time, you laughed. Quinn was as much of a bitch as you were. "But he's got a point. You two haven't done any interesting dares."
You scowled at her, but you couldn't disagree. Having told them you and Brittany were a thing, you managed to dodge any remotely interesting dare and ended up doing shit like pretending to be a bathroom attendant and stealing someone's drink without them noticing. Considering you, Brittany and Quinn were throwing dares at them to find a drink that matched the length of their dicks or grinding up against the security guards at the door, you knew it would come to a point where you would have to do something more exciting.
And you weren't lame. You were fierce and would do anything they wanted as long as it didn't involve any of you three doing anything to them in a sexual manner. They were college guys who probably had a plethora of STD's and you also didn't know how you'd react if someone made a move on Brittany. You were kind of drunk and protective and Quinn could handle her own, but you felt like you needed to look after Brittany even if she showed how intimidating she could be earlier.
Anyway, you weren't one to back down from a challenge and so you forced a too-sweet smile on your face, leaning across the table to the college guys who all waggled their eyebrows, sensing that you were down with doing whatever they came up with. You knew it was dangerous. If you'd managed to dodge any of their requests to make out with one of your friends, you knew they'd go for something else and considering you were making a deal of seeming cocky and confident, you'd have to do it regardless.
But there was a good amount of alcohol coursing through your veins, so you didn't think it would be too bad.
"I got a dare," one of the guys spoke up, twisting his baseball cap backwards and leaning over the table to you. "You gotta take your top off and get up on the bar," he suggested, jutting his chin towards the area crowded with people.
Brittany gasped beside you, her fingers tightening around yours and you couldn't help but steal a quick glance, finding excitement in her eyes instead of shock which totally threw you off, but you knew it was your time to shine and if that was the reaction you got from the suggestion, you wanted to see the reaction to you actually doing it. Quinn grinned deviously, nodding her head and even though you knew there was a high chance of being thrown out after that, it was a quick way to exit without coming up with a bullshit lie to ditch these guys and continue your night elsewhere.
So you agreed.
Which was obviously the motivating factor. Or the more powerful one.
(Although you did knew how great your body was and you always got a thrill at Brittany's… appreciation of it.)
"Fine," you quipped, squeezing Brittany's hand before getting to your feet and scooting out the booth.
You didn't even make it to the bar before your shirt was in your hands and you were pushing through the throng of bodies to get to the bar first, grabbing a shoulder to help heave yourself up as you climbed up and earned several stares immediately. Had it not been for the several shots and beer chasers in your body, you probably would've realised that having dirty boots on a place where drinks were served was unhygienic, but all concern of anything like that shot of your brain when you glanced back at the table.
Brittany was literally on the edge of her seat, hands grasping either side and the whites of her knuckles showing, and you smirked, stretching your arms up and beginning to twirl around on the spot, several bystanders cheering you on alongside the college guys who were all hollering loudly.
There was only one pair of eyes you met though, holding Brittany's strong as she began smirking, her jaw visibly clenching as she eye fucked the shit out of you and sure, Quinn had already warned you off, but you were only human and both of you were intoxicated. You could probably get away with having a sneaky hook up that your other best friend never knew about, if you really tried and the longer you looked, the more you realised that you weren't the only one having those thoughts.
Brittany's eyes were narrowed, her tongue dragging across her bottom lip before her teeth clamped down on it, and you watched her shift in her seat, one leg crossing over the other like she was feeling… uncomfortable down there. Uncomfortable in a way that you thought you could help with, and maybe even a way that you could see what she looked like with her top off.
But before you could let your mind run wild on that train of thought and figure out a way to get Brittany away from Quinn and back to your apartment alone, there were hands grabbing your ankles and you snapped your vision down to two very unimpressed security guards. They must have been gay, or annoyed that they had to deal with another drunken jackass, as neither of them even bothered to check you out before you were manhandled down from the bar and you, and your group were all being told you had to leave.
The college douchebags being… Well, douchebags, all decided that they were big and strong enough to try and take on the two security guys, so you just threw your shirt back on and grabbed both Quinn and Brittany's hands, pulling them through the double doors and into the cool air of the city, throwing your heads back with laughter, clutching at your stomachs as you stumbled down the street.
All thoughts of the way Brittany was looking at you shot out of your mind, but only for a short while.
That was just another one of your moments.
/
Everyone's deadly silent as the croupier begins dealing out the cards.
They're all holding their breaths, but you can't even seem to catch yours as you watch the dealer start from the right, handing out the card to the first person on the table. It's someone you don't know, someone that's been on the table since you climbed into the first thousand dollars, and they've been eagerly watching every hand you're playing like you're counting cards but you're not. You're just lucky, but in this moment, with everything going in slow motion, it's the first time you haven't felt so lucky.
Even though you know you should be.
Getting an ace and a ten is rare. Sure, you've had it multiple times tonight, but when you want something to happen it rarely ever does, and you're desperately praying that this hand doesn't go any differently to the previous ones because this could change your life.
Quinn's still playing, and she quickly sticks on a 7 and 5, even though it's pretty much a losing hand but she doesn't seem to care, far more interested in seeing what you're going to be dealt and you would laugh if you weren't so damn nervous as she was caring far more on her turns before. Your hands are clammy, and you can feel Brittany completely rigid beside you, eyes trained on the dealer who is aware of how much pressure he's under if the sheepish smile on his face is anything to go by.
But you really can't pay attention to that. Not when you're so close to finding out if you're going to get something you've yearned for, for so long now.
He starts handing you out your first card, and due to the nature of the game, you've got one card facing up and the other one facing down as the second follows, but everything's going in slow motion, and it seems like forever as he does it. You swallow thickly, vibrating on the stool you're sat on once more and you almost faint when your mind registers the card you can see as he pulls his hand back, everyone gasping simultaneously as they do the same.
It's a ten, which means you're halfway there and you can't help but steal a quick glance at Brittany who's already staring at you, mouth open and eyes wide, fear present in them. Her hand squeezes your hip, as she's stood over your left shoulder, but you barely even feel it because this is the moment. The dealer stares at you all, sucking his lips into his mouth and he reaches across the table, fingers pinching the edge of the last card, but your hand shoots out without your brain telling it to, bumping the backs of his knuckles, making him retract his hand immediately.
All eyes are on you in a split second, but you don't meet any of them, needing a second to calm down and take your first breath since the first card was put down. This card holds your future, and as the whole marriage thing was just spoken about you haven't had time to discuss the sheer disappointment you feel if this card isn't an ace, and you don't know how you'd feel about that. It's something you haven't considered until right now, and the dread that pulses through you replaces all the excitement you felt before.
"Everything okay, Miss?"
Your eyes flash to the dealer, and you want to nod and tell him yes, everything is okay, but it isn't. You might be heading straight to the chapel if this card is what you want it to be, or up to your room and sitting in sadness, thinking of what could've been if it isn't. This is a big fucking deal, and everyone knows it which probably isn't helping, but you're too far gone to back out now and that thought makes you look around the group.
Quinn looks back first, who smiles proudly and bobbing her head, and then you spare a glance around the group seeing equally hopeful expressions on their faces and you know they're silently cheering you on. You're still downright terrified, but you're glad they're here even if you could do without the additional pressure of several eyes on you. It's not really helping, but you know you're not searching for their confirmation of doing this, of the support and look to the last person and the opinion that really matters, finding Brittany staring right at you with her bottom lip between her teeth and you realise that it's you that needs to be the one to tell her it's okay.
So that's what you do.
"Are you sure about this?" You whisper, your voice low but everyone's quiet enough that it comes out normally. You don't want the answer to be no. You need to hear that yes again. It'll be the second best one you've heard today and that's what you need before the dealer flips the card.
But she's right there, exhaling shakily, her head nodding before her mouth can say the response, but she still does. "I'm sure," she confirms, and you've never believed her more than right now.
So you turn back to the dealer, smiling at him apologetically before pulling your own hand back and he looks around the group before reaching over his own. It all goes in slow motion again, and you take in a deep breath, watching him as he flips over the card in one swift movement.
And you don't need to look for yourself. You don't choose to, but you end up slamming your eyes shut hard before you can register what's on the card but there's no need for visual confirmation though, as the next thing you're aware of is the several screams of the people around you, erupting into applause and cheering loudly as stools fall to the floor as everyone gets to their feet. Then there's hands on your cheeks, pulling you and lips are pressing against yours as Brittany kisses you, and you know what the card is immediately.
But you don't stop to check the card, instead choosing to kiss back as fiercely as you can.
Even if that card wasn't an ace, you think you'd still be going to the chapel.
/
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