Later in the evening, Santana's eyes opened slowly, slightly perturbed by the sliver of light coming from the door. Sure enough, the small corridor was lit and the door ajar. Santana blinked a couple times before she turned and noticed the spot next to her was empty. Intrigued, she got up and grabbed one of Brittany's oversized t-shirts from her dresser. It barely covered her ass, but Santana figured it would do for a trip downstairs.
As she padded down the stairs, she spotted Brittany near the couch in the living room, wearing short shorts and a gray tank top. Her ears quickly picked up on her hushed voice.
"—said no. I can't rewrite it, it's just wrong."
Santana furrowed her eyebrows. She didn't know if she should be intruding, but she was getting cold and Brittany seemed agitated. Quietly, she walked up to her and wrapped her arms around her waist from behind, smiling when Brittany jumped.
"I—I'll call you b-back," Brittany fumbled, ending the call abruptly. Weird, Santana thought...
"Work?" She asked, kissing Brittany's back softly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."
Brittany swallowed nervously as she dropped the phone on the couch and turned around in Santana's arms.
"N-no, no, it's okay. You just took me by surprise." She kissed her quickly, still fidgeting nervously.
Santana frowned. "Hey, you okay? You're trembling."
Brittany released a shaky breath; she knew she hadn't said anything that would have clued Santana in, but lying to her face still made her queazy. "Y-yeah, I'm fine. It, um, it was just my boss updating me on some stuff."
"It's pretty late for work calls...is it something bad?" Santana asked, confused as to why Brittany was so jittery.
"No. Just...articles and news. Let's go back to bed?"
Santana looked at her quizzically before she slowly nodded. She took her hand in hers and entwined their fingers, her heart skipping a beat when Brittany's thumb softly brushed against her skin. When they climbed back into bed, Santana crawled on top of Brittany, smiling mischievously.
"What are you looking at?" Brittany murmured.
Santana chuckled. "Isn't it obvious?"
"Well, I dunno, it's kind of dark."
"Hm...okay. I'm perving on your neighbor through the drapes."
Brittany laughed. "You mean Mrs. Nunez? Didn't know 50-year old women were your type..."
"Well, you know me, I'm an equal opportunist."
"Really? So if a nice guy came up to you and—"
"Oh, hell no," Santana groaned, nuzzling Brittany's neck. "You know what I meant."
Brittany chuckled contentedly, loving the way Santana's body fit with hers. She hesitated for a split second before trailing her hands under her t-shirt, caressing her back lazily.
"Mmm, that feels nice," Santana sighed.
Brittany nodded silently, her hands traveling up and down the smooth expanse of skin. She used to love this so much—just laying in the dark with Santana, talking about nothing and everything, flirting, teasing, cuddling...it was easy to remember why.
"I missed this," she whispered, staring at the dark ceiling.
Santana shifted against her and held her head up, looking down at Brittany with an inquisitive gaze. She'd missed everything about this too, but something was bothering her; Brittany had acted so indecisive only a few days ago, and now it almost sounded like she was hinting at giving their relationship another shot. Had something changed her mind?
"I missed this, too. So much..." She trailed off. "But Britt, I...I hope you understand this isn't just casual to me. I mean...I know I acted like a horndog and all, but you mean more to me than just sex. You know that, right?"
Brittany smiled at Santana's rambling, the sweet and shy tone of her voice so uncharacteristic of her. She kissed the frown on her forehead away and nuzzled her nose with hers. "You are too cute."
Santana groaned, "Cute is not what I was going for, Britt."
"I know, but still."
"Anyway," Santana sighed, "I guess I'm asking if...maybe you'd like to go out with me?"
Brittany's eyebrows shot up. "You want us to date?"
Taken aback by Brittany's reaction, Santana felt her heart pound in dread. "I mean, if you'd like to...I just figured—"
"I'd love to."
"Yeah?"
"Totally. It's just, I was kinda under the impression we already were. What with the sex and all," Brittany teased, pinching Santana's side lightly.
"Sex is not dati—ugh, you're going to be the death of me. I thought you were shooting me down again."
Brittany bit her lip guiltily. "About that..."
"Don't worry." Santana kissed her briefly. "You had your reasons."
Smiling softly, Brittany pulled Santana into her. "C'mere," she said.
Santana grinned before kissing her full on the mouth, their giggles dissipating into the night.
It'd been two days since they'd last seen each other, and Santana was still on a blissful high. She already missed Brittany, but they'd been texting back and forth constantly, and their promise of a date this Saturday was making her feel like a teenage girl. She hadn't dated in a long while, and the thought of spending that time with Brittany only added to her excitement. Working at the restaurant had been particularly stressful these past few weeks, so unwinding and enjoying herself fully was exactly what Santana needed.
As she cleaned her station and said goodbye to a few members of her staff, Santana noticed Kurt's head peeking out from behind the door. He spotted her immediately and walked towards her, only turning around when Mercedes waved goodbye.
"Did Marley and Sunshine leave already?" Santana asked him. She'd wanted to apologize to them for a while now, remembering how overbearing she'd been after first hearing news of Susan Spite.
Kurt nodded. "Yeah."
Santana took her hat off and started unbuttoning her jacket, figuring she could apologize another day. "Oh well." She looked up at the head waiter. "What's up?"
"I have some good news and some bad news."
Sighing, Santana set her hat on her station. "Go ahead."
"Well, apparently there's been some pretty crispy drama up at Cuisine's headquarters," Kurt announced mischievously.
Santana arched an eyebrow. "Yeah?"
"Mhmm, Rachel Berry had a little preview of Spite's review, and let me tell you, it left a sour taste in her mouth."
"Her mom actually showed it to her?"
"Yup. Rachel begged her so hard she caved and showed her a snippet. She was furious—threw a fit and stamped her feet. Jesse said he thought Shelby would pop that vein on her forehead."
"God, why are you friends with these people again?" Santana asked.
Kurt shrugged. "They provide gossip and are wildly entertaining. But anyway, I hear Spite might have to rewrite her review for LuPones."
"Rewrite it completely? That's crazy! What does Berry want? A eulogy?"
"Some variation of that, yes."
"Ugh. I knew I'd hate that arrogant troll somewhere down the line."
"Well—"
"Wait, hold up. Does that mean she'll get a whole spread? The spot?"
Kurt paused, obviously trying to find the right words. He knew that Santana wanted more than just a review, that she had her eye on the coveted position of "best up-and- comer." She wanted the lavish praise, the great publicity, the restaurant to be recognized and its popularity to boom.
"That's...a possibility."
Santana clenched her fists and groaned. "No. No, that's not fair. Kurt, she's not playing fair! Who does she think she is, asking for a well-known critic to rewrite a damn article? It's just so—"
Santana cut herself off, something in her sentence suddenly calling to her.
"Rewrite it," she murmured, rolling the words on her tongue, racking her brain to try and remember why they sounded so familiar and why she felt like her blood had turned into lead and why—
She suddenly choked on air. She remembered this Tuesday; she remembered walking down the stairs of Brittany's house with a clouded mind. She remembered Brittany whispering she couldn't rewrite it...that it would be wrong.
It can't be true, Santana reasoned, feeling her throat close up and her hands shake. Brittany was terrible at lying; she never could have kept a secret like that. Yet...it made sense, didn't it? The restaurateur shook her head in disbelief, her nose scrunching as she frowned.
Now that the thought had been planted in her mind, there was nothing she could do to stop it. Was she just freaking out over nothing? Maybe she was tired. It was getting late, and with Brittany constantly on her mind, perhaps she was starting to mix things up. Still...everything clicked, all the pieces fit. Christ, everything was so conveniently coincidental that Santana wanted to punch herself. Brittany had stepped back into her life, and only a few days later, Santana had learned that Susan Spite would review Adjacent. Brittany had said she'd write a review for her in Culinary Magazine, but why? Why would she have lied yet again? Out of pity? Maybe she'd felt bad after Santana had shown up on her doorstep, soaked and needy. Maybe she'd felt remorse for turning Santana into a nervous wreck, an agitated mess.
But she worked at Culi Mag. She'd always worked there; that hadn't been a lie. She'd hated it, sure—and now that she thought about it, Santana couldn't imagine her staying there for so many years—but Brittany had told her she'd been promoted, that the working conditions had improved. Had she lied about that too? There was no way. Plus, Santana knew how Brittany wrote; she was quirky as hell and always humorous. Her writing was nothing like Spite's reviews. Sure, it had been a couple years since Santana had read anything written by Brittany, and Spite did have a rather peculiar style at times...but that didn't mean...it didn't have to mean that—
Brittany...Brittany...the name danced around her mind, taunting her. Brittany...
Brittany Susan Pierce.
God! Santana wanted to scream.