Outside the principal's office, Santana can't stop fidgeting as she waits impatiently for the meeting to be over. Although Quinn insisted that she go to class, she refused, needing to see if Brittany is okay. Only because she's a concerned friend, of course, and because she feels a little guilty about the fight. It's not like she needs Brittany.
Finally, the door opens, but she's sorely disappointed when Puck steps out. Immediately, he walks up to Santana. "San, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—"
"Save it, Puck. Listen up." Santana scowls, ready to give him a smackdown. While Brittany fights with her fists, the Latina prefers to use vicious words to make people cower, and right now, Auntie Snixx is ready to play. "What. The. Fuck were you thinking?! Don't bother answering that. I already know the answer. You weren't thinking, because if you were, you would see that beating up a girl—or attempting to, in your case—isn't hot or sexy, and it certainly won't get me to come crawling back. It's pathetic. You look like shit, and you'd better hope that Britt doesn't look half as bad as you, or I will make your life a living hell. You of all people know who I'm connected to, so you'd better watch your fucking back. Nod if you understand." Silently, he nods, and she continues, "If I hear that you've been harassing Brittany, I promise you, there will be hell to pay. If I catch you even looking at her funny—you know what? Just don't even look. You're officially on my shitlist, Puckerman. Now get the hell out of my sight."
Dumbfounded, Puck looks at her before opening his mouth to say something. However, one look from her, and he quickly closes it, then sighs and walks away, head down and shoulders slumped. Santana continues to glare at his retreating back.
"Wow, that oddly turned me on," a familiar cocky voice says behind her.
Santana immediately whips around, a witty comeback at the tip of her tongue. When she sees Brittany, the words die in her mouth. The blonde looks pretty damn bad. The right side of her jaw is swollen and a nasty color, and there are Band-Aids all over her face. Now that she's not wearing her signature leather jacket, Santana can see that her entire waist is wrapped in bandages, and so is her left knee. Bruises are already starting to form all over her body. "Oh my god," Santana gasps. On impulse, she rushes over to Brittany and gingerly hugs her. Brittany winces. "I'm so sorry, Britt," she says, pulling away.
Brittany attempts to smile, but it comes out more like a grimace. "It's no big deal. It was actually a little fun."
"I just...thank you. For, you know, defending me. I'm so sorry. It's my fault you got hurt." Pathetic. Santana knows she really sucks at showing gratitude.
"I told you, it's okay, San. Besides, your plan worked. Puck totally got jealous."
Remembering their kiss, Santana blushes. It is easily the hottest thing that has ever happened to her. "Yeah, but I'm done toying with Puck. He's an asshole."
The blonde smiles. "Good. You deserve better."
For a moment, they simply stare at each other, thinking about everything that happened today. Santana looks so guilty that Brittany wants to reassure her that she's alright and that she's seen worse days, but she keeps getting lost in those big brown eyes. Brittany also can't help but wonder what the Latina thinks of their kiss, and what would have happened if Puck hadn't interrupted. It was hands-down the sexiest kiss of her life, and she's kissed a lot of people. There's no way Santana faked the whole thing, right?
"I should probably take you home," Santana says. Brittany looks at her, surprised. "Not like that! Because you need rest, and...yeah."
Awkward. Brittany forces her mind out of the gutter. "You don't have to do that. You've already missed enough class."
"I drove you here, and I feel responsible for the fight, so you're coming with me. Besides, I'm sure Ms. Holliday will understand."
"Well, if you insist."
The car ride is tense and silent. Santana still feels bad, which is honestly a new experience for her. Usually, she doesn't give a damn about other people's emotions or feelings (exception: Lucy Quinn Fabray), but she can't help feeling guilty. She already apologized, though, and there is no way she's going to try to choke it out again, no matter how bad she feels. "I can take a look at your injuries for you, if you want. Ms. Del Monico is a shit nurse."
Brittany laughs at the truth in that statement. "And you're a better one?"
"Well, my dad's a doctor, so I'm first-aid certified. CPR too."
"Are you just looking for an excuse to kiss me again?" As soon as the words leave her mouth, Brittany looks away, internally berating herself for bringing it up.
Unseen to her, Santana is blushing in the driver's seat. Neither of them want to talk about it.
After Santana kills the engine, she walks around to help Brittany out of the car. "Jeez, you'd think I broke both my legs, with the way you're treating me," she teases as Santana helps her out of the car.
The brunette abruptly lets go, causing Brittany to gasp in pain as she has to steady herself. "Okay, fine, you obviously don't need my help." Santana shrugs and turns toward her front door.
"San, please!" Brittany whines. "I was just kidding."
Rolling her eyes, Santana goes back to supporting the blonde, but slightly more roughly. "Only because you said please."
After a lot of effort, she finally gets Brittany to the couch.
"Stay here," she commands, then disappears down the hallway.
Once the other girl is gone, Brittany lifts her shirt slightly and unwraps the bandage on her waist, curious to see how it looks. As she begins to take it off, she whimpers from the pain. "Oh fuck," she whispers when the bandage is fully off. It looks as bad as it feels. A palm-sized, nasty green and yellow bruise rimmed with red adorns her breathtaking abs. She gasps, then groans in pain as she experimentally touches around the bruise.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Santana exclaims, reappearing with a red bag.
"Just looking at my battle scars." Brittany winces.
"You're insane! Will you stop poking at it?"
Brittany grins. "Sure, if you come over here and take care of me, nurse," she teases seductively.
Her words shoot straight through Santana, right to the juncture of her legs. Trying to hide her reaction, she replies, "Shut up, Pierce," then sits next to her on the couch. She pulls Brittany to face her and scoots closer so that their knees are touching.
When Santana removes a Band-Aid from her forehead, the blonde whimpers.
"Ugh, Del Monico thinks that covering a wound with a Band-Aid fixes everything. Look at this cut! It's not even cleaned." The smaller girl scowls. She should really complain to Figgins about the nurse. She would do a much better job, and she'd look super hot in a nurse's outfit. Applying rubbing alcohol to a cotton swab, she presses it to Brittany's forehead.
"Fuck!" Brittany hisses in pain.
"You can take a hit from Puck, but you can't handle this?"
"'S different," Brittany mumbles.
Santana snorts and shakes her head. "Why didn't you just walk away?"
"Gotta protect my pride and my woman, Lopez."
At her words, Santana's heart clenches. In the good way. "I'm not your woman, Britt," she states. Brittany can't help but think she sounds a little...disappointed? "Now look straight ahead, so I can examine your other cuts."
As Santana examines her face with careful precision, the blonde simply watches her, staring at her pretty mocha eyes. She barely notices the stinging on her cheeks as she studies the other girl. Her blue eyes drop down to plump, full lips, the bottom one trapped between her teeth as she concentrates. Brittany can't help but remember the feeling of those lips on hers.
"Stop looking at me like that," Santana says, somewhat shyly.
Brittany finds it adorable how she always tries to be intimidating. "Like what?"
"I don't know. Like that."
The brunette seems to be avoiding her eyes, so Brittany takes a chance. Slowly, she leans in and presses a gentle kiss to the other girl's mouth. No tongue, no jealousy, no Puck. It is sweet and tender and only lasts about three seconds before Brittany pulls away, her blue eyes twinkling.
Bewildered, Santana looks at her, trying not to look flustered. "W-why did you do that?" she demands, touching her lips.
"Because I wanted to. Come on, San. You can't tell me you felt nothing when we first kissed."
She did. She really, really did. But she's too scared to admit it. "I didn't," she lies.
Leaning back, Brittany studies her expression skeptically.
"I didn't," she repeats more forcefully.
"Bullshit."
"I was just trying to make Puck jealous."
"Bullshit. Really, San. Tell me you don't want this," Brittany whispers, placing her hands on the Latina's waist, her injuries forgotten. "Just thinking about how you were in the hallway makes me so fucking hot. There's no way you didn't feel it too." She presses tender kisses up her neck, relishing in the delicious taste of her salty skin. "I know you want this too." Suddenly, Brittany lightly nips at her pulse point, causing Santana to let out an involuntary moan.
The noise snaps her back to her senses. You can't like her. Don't let anyone in. Taking a deep breath, she yells, "Fucking stop it, Brittany!" Shocked, the blonde pulls back. "Is this seriously all you think about? Having sex and fucking people?" Santana explodes. "Not everyone wants to sleep with you, Brittany. In fact, some people don't want to be around you at all!" Brittany looks at her, incredulous and hurt, but Santana is terrified and on a roll. "Seriously, that's all you talk about. Sex, sex, sex. It's fucking annoying."
Collecting herself, Brittany narrows her eyes. "Well, all you think about is your fucking popularity and reputation. News flash, Your Highness? None of that is going to matter once we get out of high school. You think people will give two fucks about whether you dated the quarterback in the real world? Of course not!"
Deep down, Santana knows that she's right. However, her defenses are already up, and, stubborn as she is, she refuses to back down. "At least I'll graduate from high school. What are you going to do? Smoke cigars under the bleachers for the rest of your life? Hit on and fuck anyone willing? Face it, Brittany, you'll be a Lima Loser forever," she spits.
Brittany blanches, her fists clenching. She can't believe she ever considered that Santana might not be the bitch she originally thought she was. "You know what's important to me? Keeping my family intact. Making sure there's food for Tommy to eat, because my mom works three jobs to keep our house, and she doesn't get home until fucking midnight! Making sure he has a safe place to live, because his dad's a fucking alcoholic who could hurt him at any moment, like he did to me! So no, screwing people and getting off isn't the only thing I think about, but I guess it doesn't matter to you, does it? Because no matter what I say, your opinion of me will never change. In your eyes, I'll always be the stupid whore who's destined to be a Lima Loser!" Brittany finishes with a scream. Angry and hurt, her eyes are glistening with unshed tears.
Shocked, Santana is speechless. She didn't know Brittany's family life was so bad. Of course, she knew something was up, but not to this extent. Brittany looks so broken right now. Feeling even guiltier, all Santana wants is to take everything back. "Brittany, I—" she starts, but the blonde cuts her off.
"Just shut the fuck up, Santana. I don't want to deal with you anymore." Brittany sighs heavily before getting off the couch. "Congratulations, we can finally break up now. Sorry it's a couple days early."
Santana swears she sees a tear fall before the blonde exits the house.
Her last class of the day, Quinn sits alone in Drama Arts, counting the seconds until she can leave and check on Brittany. Santana had sent her a text that she brought Brittany home, and Quinn is getting antsy. That brawl was insane.
Suddenly, she remembers something. Digging through her bag, she searches for and finds the note that was thrown carelessly to the ground. This is what put Puck over the top, the last straw that made him want to beat the crap out of Brittany.
Curious, she unfolds it:
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
A few minutes later, her phone vibrates.
From San: Are you headed home?
From Britt: Is school out yet?
After sending "yes" to both of them, Quinn walks to her car, a cute little Beetle. Seconds later, her phone vibrates again.
From San: Please come over. I need you.
Quinn freezes. Santana never asks her for help, unless she's really desperate. Before she can reply, another text shakes her out of her thoughts.
From Britt: Can you stop by? It's important.
The blonde's eyes bulge. Brittany needs her too? "Important" is their code word, because Brittany almost never deems anything "important." Well fuck. What could possibly be wrong with both of them? Maybe the fist fight? Maybe the kiss? Quinn had spotted them before Puck did, and honestly, she'd been too enthralled to even see him coming. If she was mesmerized by their kiss, there is no way Brittany and Santana weren't, so maybe that's it? Why would they need her now, though? Knowing those two, they probably did or said something stupid. That must be it. Sighing heavily, she types:
To San: What did Brittany do?
To Britt: What did Santana do?
This time, Brittany's message comes first.
From Britt: Please Quinn, just come over. I really need someone to talk to. Please.
Damn. This is serious. Quinn waits for Santana's reply, knowing that while Brittany wants to wait and talk in person, Santana will probably send a long and vague—yup. There it is.
From San: Fucking hell, Q. I fucked up. REALLY bad. I drove Britt to my place to check on her injuries, and we had a moment or something, and she kissed me. I panicked, Q. I said a lot of shitty things that I didn't mean, and I really hurt her. God fucking damnit, why didn't you tell me that her dad hits her? God I'm such a bitch! Please just get over here!
Oh God. Brittany's dad hits her? But Brittany said that he didn't. She was lying. Of course she was lying! Fucking Brittany S. Pierce with her pride. Sighing again, Quinn makes a decision. She knows which friend needs her more right now.
To San: I'm sorry, S. I can't right now, but I'll be over in a couple hours. Please don't do anything stupid. Love you.
To Britt: I'm on my way.
