As she swallowed the last bite of the most delicious tres leches she'd ever tasted, Brittany made a note to include Mercedes Jones in her review.
The woman really deserved all the praise in the world. Brittany was genuinely impressed by Santana's staff. Of course, this wasn't exactly surprising; it was rare for Santana to aim for anything but the best. She'd definitely gotten the crème de la crème, and it was obviously paying off. Not to mention she herself was a wonderful chef.
Brittany set her fork on her plate and awkwardly looked around, wondering if she should just ask Marley for the check and then leave. Santana was obviously busy in the kitchen, and Brittany didn't want to bother her, so perhaps she could just stop by another day. That being said, she was starting to miss her own home-cooked meals. She loved the food here, but she didn't want to grow tired of it due to eating here so much in a short span of time. Besides, cooking always calmed her, and she was in need of something to soothe her growing nerves. This whole situation was starting to weigh heavily on her mind.
However, just as she was about to get Marley's attention, she noticed Santana, toque in hand and white jacket slung across her arm. Their eyes met immediately, and Santana disappeared behind a wall after a wink that had Brittany grin.
After two short minutes, the chef was walking towards Brittany with a change of clothes, smiling brightly as she pulled the chair and sat down in front of her.
"Hey you," Santana said.
"Hey. You changed?"
"Oh, yeah. I don't like going out with my smelly cook clothes."
"Sounds like you," Brittany chuckled.
Santana bit her lip. "How did you like the food?"
"Really good. You guys are really on top of your stuff."
Santana smiled proudly, her eyes sparkling with noticeable satisfaction. It was easy to see that she was insanely happy about her achievements, and with good reason.
"Well, you know, we can't really afford to lose steam with..." she looked around, "you-know-who writing about us."
"And yet you're here talking to me..." Brittany teased.
Santana snorted, "She can't hold that against me. I mean, have you seen yourself? I'm sure she'd understand why I'm...distracted. Besides, I've been busting my ass in that kitchen for months. I think I'm allowed a break, don't you?"
Brittany grinned. "Absolutely. And say...if she were here right now, I'm sure she herself would be distracted by the...ah, pretty sight."
Smiling widely, Santana said, "Well, maybe I should show a bit more skin next time then...if that's what she's into..."
"Or he."
Confused, Santana frowned. "He?"
"Yeah, I mean...what if Susan is actually a guy?"
Santana gaped and paused before her eyes widened and she quickly scanned the room, like she was seeing things in a completely different way now. Brittany smirked; this could easily play in her favor.
"Fuck, I hadn't even thought about that," Santana breathed out. "Total genius."
"Me or the guy passing for a woman?" Brittany asked playfully.
The chef smiled. "You, always."
"Well, I mean, it could be...guy passes for woman to be completely incognito? It's not exactly unheard of..."
Brittany knew she was digging herself deeper into her hole, but at this point, saying the truth was just off the table. Santana just looked so...happy. She couldn't do this to her—not here, not now.
"You're right. I just...damn," Santana murmured. After a beat, she shook her head. "Whatever, I promised myself I wouldn't worry about it anymore. Holly and Mercedes were right; we've got a kickass menu, and if Spite doesn't know it, then I have a few choice places I could shove a pan of roasted mussels into."
Brittany scrunched her nose. "What a waste."
Santana chuckled. "Yeah, you're right. Maybe I should choose something else."
"Well, definitely not that breaded eggplant. It was really good, S."
"I'm happy you liked it. My girl deserves the best."
After a pause, Brittany bit her lip. "Your girl?"
Santana opened her mouth as she realized what she had implied. She thought about backtracking but cleared her throat instead, brushing the question off.
"I didn't have the chance to thank you properly." She smiled impishly.
Taken aback, Brittany raised an eyebrow. "For what? The review?"
"Yeah..." Santana trailed off. "And I do want to. Thank you properly, that is."
As Brittany noticed the curve of her smile, the playful spark in her eyes, and the way she hunched over just enough to display a hint of cleavage, she knew she was done for. Resisting the woman was a fight she didn't want to win. So, swallowing, she asked, "And what would that entail?"
Surprised that Brittany wasn't resisting her—or perhaps pleased would be the right word—Santana felt her heart speed up. "Follow me," she said.