"Hey Mikey, sorry I had to cancel our rehearsal last week," Brittany apologizes. After glancing at her and kissing her boyfriend possessively, Tina wanders over to Finn.
"No problem, Britt. Who knew Puck would go crazy after reading that note?"
The girl laughs. "Actually, I was hoping he would do something like that. Maybe not so drastic, but I wanted to get a reaction out of him."
"Well, you definitely got one. What did that note say, anyway?"
Brittany glances at Santana, who currently has her head in her hands as she tries not to listen to Kurt rant. "Nothing much. Why don't we focus on our scene? God knows we need the practice."
"Sure."
"Oh, and I have some questions. Like, why is Allie so happy when they're in the boat, but then she suddenly gets mad at Noah? They were having so much fun! And then after she gets mad, they suddenly kiss? It doesn't make sense."
"Wait. Have you never seen The Notebook?" Mike asks, astonished.
"Nope. Is it a big deal?"
"Britt, you haven't seen The Notebook?" Quinn interjects from her and Sam's adjacent table.
"Brittany, that is a rite of passage for any girl! You haven't lived until you've seen that movie!" Rachel butts in.
"Yeah, even I've seen it," Puck adds.
Brittany just glares at him. "Just because we talked for two seconds in detention doesn't mean we're on speaking terms, Puck."
Pretty soon, everyone is talking over each other. "Could you guys keep it down? I can't hear Lady Lips rant about my laziness over all of your blabbing," Santana says, happy for a break from Kurt.
"Santana, this is serious. Brittany hasn't seen the Notebook!" Quinn tells her. Brittany just crosses her arms and pouts; what is so special about this movie?
"Why are you so hot and bothered, Q? I haven't seen it either."
"What?!" the girls and Kurt yelp in disbelief.
Suddenly, Quinn sees an opportunity. "That's it. You two are coming over after school and watching it. Today." How perfect is this? She'll lure them to her house, put on a chick flick, let it work its magic, then maybe slip out to give them some privacy.
"I can't. I have Cheerios after school," Santana quickly rejects her plan.
"Yeah, and I have Glee," Brittany grumbles.
Suddenly, everyone forgets about The Notebook as all five groups fall silent.
"I'm sorry, you have what?!" Rachel asks.
Brittany's eyes widen as she realizes that no one knew. Turning to Puck, she whispers, "Were we not supposed to say anything?"
He looks around at the shocked faces. "Uhh, I guess not."
"Wait Puck, you're in it too?"
He nods, and the room explodes.
"You're in Glee?"
"When did that happen?"
"Yay, another dancer!"
"I'm going to complain to Mr. Schue right now!"
The bell rings, signaling that class is over and Glee starts in 15 minutes.
"Come on! We're finding out what's going on right now!" Rachel storms out and many follow her, leaving Santana, Quinn, Brittany, Puck, Finn, and Mike.
"Well, looks like someone doesn't want you in that stupid club," Santana quips.
"If it helps, I'm glad that you're in. Choreographing everything was getting exhausting. Plus, Rachel insists on being in front all the time," Mike says.
"You can dance?" Finn asks, that typical confused look on his face. Brittany nods, and he seems to move on quickly. "Hey, maybe it won't be so bad. Aren't you, like, really good at guitar, man?"
"Who fucking cares, dude! I'm not cut out for this. I don't sing, and I definitely don't dance."
"Besides, with the amount of trouble we'll make, I'm Mr. Schue will kick us out by the end of the day," Brittany says, ready to make sure that will come true.
"Guys! Guys, calm down!" Will Schuester yells.
"Hell to the nah, Mr. S! You want the girl who gave pot brownies to Finn and the guy who stuffed Artie in a Porta Potty in our club? You must be trippin' on some crazy shi—"
"Mercedes!" Will interrupts before Mercedes can finish her sentence. She just huffs and crosses her arms in protest. Turning to Brittany, he asks, "You gave drugs to an unwilling student?"
"No one can prove it was me." She shrugs.
After staring at her for a second, Will addresses the group. "Anyways...guys, just give this a chance. You too, Puck and Brittany. Who knows? You may end up liking it!"
"Not likely," Puck snorts.
"Yeah, Puck isn't coordinated enough," Brittany deadpans.
He scowls at the blonde. "Whatever, Pierce. At least I'm smart enough to walk and talk at the same time."
"Did you just call me stupid?"
"No, idiot. I just said I was smart."
Getting out of her seat, Brittany gets up in his face, scowling threateningly. "No one calls me stupid. Got it?"
"I don't need a stupid girl to tell me what I can and can't do."
"If you don't shut your fucking mouth, we're going to have a repeat of last Friday, except this time, you won't get a cheap shot in."
"Is that a threat?"
"I knew I'd never get along with you. Your head is so far up your ass, I'm afraid your mohawk will get stuck up there!"
"What did you just say?" he yells.
Brittany shoves him, hard. "You heard me, dickhead!"
Some of the girls start screaming, while the guys hold back the two from starting another fist fight in the choir room. Eventually, they calm down, though they are on opposite side of the room now.
"I don't care what any of you guys think. Brittany and Puck are in," Will states firmly, losing his nice guy attitude. Everyone groans. "Alright, Glee Club rules say that everyone has to audition, so I expect both of you to have something prepared for Thursday!"
"What?!"
"Fuuuuuck."
The rest of Glee is filled with Rachel and Mercedes arguing over solos, Sugar making random offhanded comments, Rachel staring longingly at Finn, and Finn looking as oblivious as always. Needless to say, Brittany is more than happy when the meeting is finally over. As she walks out, she gets a text.
From Q: You two better be at my house after practice. It's chick flick time!
Brittany groans.
"Going to Quinn's?" Santana asks, suddenly appearing next to the blonde.
Though startled and unsettled by her presence at first (it's the first time since her dream that they've been alone together), Brittany recovers quickly. Nodding, she answers, "Got nothing better to do." Honestly, as much as she thinks that being in close proximity to the cheerleader is a bad idea, she still wants to. There is this unseeable force that just attracts her to the girl.
"I heard you and Puck almost got in a fight," Santana says.
Brittany wonders how the news traveled so quickly (Mercedes and Tina both sent it to JBI). "Yeah, but the Gleeks held us back. Probably for the best," she admits, trying to look anywhere but at the girl next to her. She's terrified Santana will see right through her, to her naughty inner thoughts.
"Was it about me?"
Immediately paranoid that Santana is referring to her sex dream last night, Brittany panics. "W-what?"
"The fight? Was it over me?"
After getting momentarily distracted by the movement of the Latina's full lips, Brittany understands what she is saying. "Please. Don't flatter yourself."
Santana rolls her eyes. "Whatever Britt. Sorry I care if you get hurt or not," she grumbles.
Stopping dead in her tracks, the dancer turns to her. "You care about me?"
Oh shit. Santana tries to keep her stoic demeanor, but Brittany can see the shock in her pretty brown eyes. "Of course I care about you, Britt. We're friends, aren't we?" She meant to say it jokingly and nonchalantly, but it comes out whispered and demure.
Searching Santana's face with her baby blues, Brittany takes in her nervous smile. "Yeah San. Of course."
Silence fills the air as they simply stare at each other, too distracted by their own confusion and desire to notice the same things in the other's eyes. Suddenly, their phones vibrate simultaneously with a "Where are you?" text from Quinn, shaking them both from their trance.
"We should head over there before she..." Santana trails off, still looking at Brittany and wondering what just happened.
"Yeah, you know how she gets. Do you need a ride? I mean, I have my baby, but...yeah," Brittany replies.
Despite the fact that she hates the motorcycle, Santana almost says yes. She wants Brittany in her arms again. "I drove here, so...I'll just meet you there?"
"Yeah."
"Cool."
They look at each other one last time before ducking their heads and walking to their vehicles as quickly as possible.
Desperate to have a few precious minutes to talk to Quinn before Brittany arrives, Santana speeds like a maniac to the shorter blonde's house. That look in Brittany's eyes...it sent shivers down her spine. Pleasurable ones.
Not even bothering to knock, she bursts into Quinn's house. "Quinn!" she screams.
"Calm down, my mom's upstairs!" the blonde says, running towards her. "What's wrong with you?"
"Brittany and I just talked, and God, I sounded like such an idiot," she groans.
"Why, what happened?"
"Ugh, I told her I cared about her! I probably sounded so pathetic and desperate. When the fuck have I ever told someone I care about them? I don't even tell you that!"
"Aww but I know you do, sweetie. Besides, I know Britt cares about you too."
"Oh yeah? How do you know?" Santana challenges.
Quinn contemplates if this is the right time. What the hell, why not? "Come with me," she says excitedly, grabbing Santana's wrist and pulling.
"Ow, what the hell! What are you doing?"
Letting go of Santana's wrist, Quinn starts to pull open various drawers. "Where did I...here it is!" Taking out a crumpled piece of paper, she hands it to Santana, who takes it cautiously. "This is what made Puck so mad last Friday."
The brunette looks at the paper curiously before slowly opening it. She reads it carefully, and her heart soars at the words:
Sorry you had to go through a downgrade in the women department. Thanks for pushing San towards me; she's made me happier than I ever thought possible. I understand why you miss her so much ;)
-Pierce
This is what was in Puck's locker? Number one, he's such a goddamn baby, and number two, this might be the sweetest thing she's ever read in her life. Still, she can't get her hopes up. "Quinn, this doesn't mean anything."
"What? Why not?"
"Because she wrote this while we were fake dating! She hates Puck and did it to piss him off, not because she actually feels this way."
Quinn lets out a noise somewhere between a groan and a sigh. "San, why can't you just be optimistic for once in your life? What if this is how she really feels?"
"Optimism is overrated. I'm just telling it how it is."
Before Quinn can argue further, they hear the door open and Brittany call for them. "You know what? If you don't believe me, why don't you ask her yourself?" she challenges before disappearing down the stairs.
Santana sighs before following her downstairs, where she is greeted by Brittany's increasingly familiar and breathtaking smile. She has a feeling this will be a long night.
"Go sit down. I'll be right there," Quinn tosses over her shoulder as she walks into the kitchen. She wants to make sure she won't be in the middle of them. After grabbing some chips and soda, she enters the living room and quickly analyzes what she has to work with.
Brittany has her arm on the back of the couch, and Santana is sitting with her arms and legs crossed. They're about three feet away from each other. She can work with that.
"Scoot over, San," Quinn says, forcing her to move closer to the taller blonde, who doesn't have enough time to move her arm away. Perfect.
"Alright, let's see what everyone's yapping about." Santana rolls her eyes, then presses play.
Three quarters of the way through, all three girls are practically bawling. If someone from school walked in, they'd be in for the shock of their lives. Badass Brittany, bitchy Santana, and cool, calm, and collected Quinn crying their eyes out? As if.
"Why did you make us watch this, Q?" Brittany whimpers through her tears.
"This shit is depressing," Santana mumbles, trying not to let a tear spill over.
"It's a rite of passage," Quinn insists. Suddenly, her phone rings, and she pauses the movie. Her plan is in motion. "Mom?" Brittany and Santana exchange a curious glance as they eavesdrop. "Yeah, sure. I'll be right there." She hangs up.
"Uhh, isn't your mom upstairs?" Santana asks.
"Yeah, but she doesn't like to strain her voice. Keep watching without me. I'm sure it won't take long."
Suddenly, they are both very aware of each other's presence and how they are alone. On a couch.
"So...keep going?" Santana suggests.
"Y-yeah, sure."
As the movie resumes, however, Brittany is no longer watching. Instead, she's focusing on how their bare legs are barely touching and how close Santana's body is to hers. They stay in that position for the next 20 minutes, until the movie ends. Quinn still hasn't come back. Santana and Brittany just sit there, awkwardly staring at the blank TV, the only lighting in the room coming from a dim lamp.
"Well, at least the ending was happy?" Brittany tries.
"They died!"
"But they died in love." They turn their heads slightly, briefly making eye contact before they both look away, blushing. "I wonder where Quinn is," Brittany says at the same time Santana blurts,
"Did you mean what you said in your note?"
"What?"
"Umm...Quinn showed me the note that you put in Puck's locker last Friday. D-did you mean it?"
For a second, Brittany considers playing dumb but decides against it. "Yeah, I did. I meant it," she says honestly.
For once, Santana smiles a real, genuine smile. She places a hand on Brittany's knee and squeezes softly. "Thank you, Britt. It was really sweet."
The blonde smiles back, enjoying Santana's gratitude, touch, and gorgeous smile. That smile...her perfect lips, so full and so easy to suck on, and of course, her perfect teeth. She remembers how they nipped at her own lips, causing such pleasurable pain.
Santana watches Brittany's blue eyes darken and her pupils dilate slightly as she blatantly stares at the Latina's lips. Brittany's pink tongue pokes out slightly, moistening her own. Santana remembers how talented that tongue is, how it caressed her own with practiced precision. She knows it must be very skilled at thrusting inside another wet, pleasurable cavern...
After locking eyes for about a second, they simultaneously pounce at each other. As their lips meet and their tongues tangle together, both girls gasp and moan, sighing in relief at finally tasting each other again.
Brittany is relentless. She loves the feel of the brunette's lips, how their tongues dance with each other, and how perfectly their lips fit together.
Santana is in heaven. Her mind is solely focused on their very intense and primal makeout session and on this girl Santana is sure she's slowly been falling for, whose lips are on hers, whose hand is slowly reaching up her—
"Ohhh," Santana moans as the blonde cups her right breast. Her core is already desperately throbbing.
Brittany doesn't know if she's going too far too fast, but as long as Santana isn't pulling away, she doesn't care. In fact, the Latina is pulling her closer. Brittany moans at the feel of Santana's soft, supple flesh in her hand, pinching her nipple gently but firmly. Then, Santana snaps. In an instant, Brittany is on her back, and the smaller girl is hovering over her, her legs on either side of the dancer's stomach. The blonde isn't used to being on the bottom, but at the moment, Santana's dominance is making her even hotter.
"You are so fucking hot," Santana growls, causing Brittany to whimper helplessly, then leans back in.
However, before she can reconnect their swollen lips, a voice interrupts them. "No, Mom! I'll get it for you later!" Quinn yells as Judy walks into the living room.
"Quinn, I'm sure it's—" Mrs. Fabray stops in her tracks, causing Quinn to run into her.
Panicking, Santana throws herself off Brittany, not wanting be caught in such a compromising position. She falls off the couch and onto the ground with a loud thud. For her part, Brittany quickly sits up, running her hands through her messy hair and trying to look casual.
Despite their efforts, it's pretty obvious to both Fabrays what they were doing. "Did we interrupt something?" Quinn asks innocently, pretending nothing happened.
"I-I have to—" Santana starts, but her voice comes out raspy. She tries to mask it with a cough. "Thanks," she says quickly before getting off the floor and bolting towards the door. Her cheeks are still red with embarrassment and lingering arousal.
"Wait, Santana!" Brittany calls.
The door slams shut.
Mrs. Fabray raises her eyebrows before turning to her daughter, who is wearing the biggest, shit-eating grin on her face. "Honey, stop smiling like that. It's creepy," she scolds, choosing to dismiss whatever just happened. She walks back upstairs, leaving Quinn to continue grinning like a madwoman.
Looks like her plan worked.
"San, wait!" Brittany yells again, but the girl keeps running, cutting through yards and onto her own porch. "Santana, stop!" The blonde catches up to her and grabs her wrist just as she reaches her front door.
She spins around to face Brittany. Their faces are only inches apart. "Freaking what, Brittany?!" she yells, angry and frustrated. Mostly at herself. Liking a girl is just too damn hard, especially with how much she likes said girl. Plus, their close proximity isn't helping anything.
To her surprise, Brittany doesn't look mad. She looks desperate, and it's tearing Santana apart. "Please don't push me away again," she begs, staring deep into her eyes.
Santana quickly looks away from the pools of blue that are piercing her heart. "Brittany—" she starts, ready to give some kind of excuse.
"No. I know what you're going to say. Don't say it," Brittany whispers. Panicked brown eyes continue to dart around. "Santana, you can't keep denying that there's something between us. You can't." She presses their foreheads together.
The brunette gasps and shudders, her breathing getting increasingly erratic. Her mind is screaming at her to pull away, but every other part of her body is begging for Brittany's.
The taller girl seems to sense her hesitation and pulls her closer, their lips barely a hair apart. "Tell me you don't feel this," she breathes before capturing her lips once again.
Santana freezes for just a second...then gives in and moves her lips against Brittany's. They're working together, no show of dominance or expectation of sex or lust-filled desire, just sweet, tender, barely-there kisses.
Brittany pulls back and rests their foreheads together again, a warm smile enveloping her features that Santana can't help but return. "Just...give us a chance," the blonde practically begs. Santana's breath catches. "Us," as in a couple? Brittany and Santana as a couple? Like girlfriends? Brittany watches the doubt and panic flicker across the girl's pretty features. "Santana." This time, she does beg.
"I can't." Santana barely whispers, then closes her eyes.
"I'm scared too!" Brittany admits. "I've never even been in a relationship before. This isn't easy for me either."
"Y-you don't understand, Britt," the brunette says, shaking her head. "I-it's not that I don't want to. I just...I can't."
For the first time, Brittany looks away from the girl's face. It feels like her heart is shattering. "Why?"
Before Santana can reply, she sees something that makes her heart stop and her stomach tighten in fear. Headlights. "Fuck!" she curses, quickly pushing Brittany away so that there's some distance between them.
"What the—" the blonde starts before she sees a red Lamborghini Murciélago pull into the driveway. Damn, she'd thought Santana's Mercedes-Benz was impressive.
A woman and man exit the car, both obviously Hispanic, both quite good-looking. "Santanita!" the woman greets enthusiastically.
"M-mami, Papi. You're home early!"
