Title: Above The Moon
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 7.8k
Summary: She really is here. Brittany is here, and you think over the past 10 years without her, trying to figure out how destiny didn't bring you back together sooner, but you guess it just wasn't the right time.
Notes: No-one seems to know where this is going yet... I'm excited for you to find out!
/
The weekend comes, and whereas it means the night off for half the population of LA, it's prime time for you.
There's a big awards ceremony tonight, with a red carpet, hundreds of paparazzi, and a throng of news vans with eager reporters, waiting to catch the next big juicy bit of red carpet gossip. Rachel gets an invite, so you're forced to work, and you were kind of hoping that you could get the night off as you're not entirely needed as you brought a couple assistants with you, but the last time you left her alone on the red carpet next to a camera, she revealed that she was dating one of her back-up dancers and that shit spread fast.
You had hell to deal with after that, especially as it turns out that specific back-up dancer was shadowing as a gigolo whilst not on tour.
But anyway, you're here tonight, standing at the end of the carpet, watching Rachel talk to each of the reporters, keeping it brief and tight-lipped and she seems to be doing a good job. You hooked her up with a microphone which is linked to the earpiece you have in, and you can hear the unfamiliar voices pressing her for shit that she's not allowed to talk about. Like whom she's dating now, seeing as that other guy was tossed away after the big story broke of his other profession.
You're so involved in watching her, grasping your hands in front of you and hoping she doesn't say something dumb that you'll have to snap at her later for, and pay-off the news stations not to leak a potential story, that you don't notice the body sliding up to you until a voice flows into your ears, closer than you expected.
"Heard a rumour about you," Kurt whispers and you jolt, gasping quietly but scowl at him.
"You scared me, asshole," you hiss, eyes trained on Rachel as she moves further down the red carpet, cameras flashing in her face, but she doesn't break the smile she's holding. "What rumour is that, exactly?"
Kurt grins at you and bumps your shoulders together, and you can tell he's proud that he caught you off guard. "That you slept with someone," he explains but that doesn't really help; you usually sleep with a lot of people, even if you haven't since Brittany and that was two weeks ago.
But you're just going through a dry spell as you're still satisfied from your session with her. You've seen Brittany a couple times since, but it's been fleeting as they've been at rehearsals for Mercedes or through some other work outlet. She hasn't come back to the bar either week, not that you're bothered by that or anything, but you've kept in touch with a few calls and texts here and there. Nothing too interesting just daily updates about what each other had for lunch and shit.
"That narrows it down," you drone sarcastically, lifting your hand to your earpiece and pressing it in, to hear the chatter of Rachel and her upcoming television series that was built around her life.
"Somebody that you used to know," Kurt sings, like the damn song and you click your tongue, looking entirely unimpressed because you know where he's going with this and Mercedes has already tried threatening you, but you suppose he doesn't know Brittany like Mercedes does, so maybe it isn't going that way.
"You're being super subtle."
Kurt grins and wiggles his eyebrows up at you. "So, is it true?"
You groan and shift your weight one leg to the other. Had you known this had been such big news, you would've asked Brittany to keep it on the down low as these reactions are starting to irritate you. No-one ever quizzes you when you sleep with a nameless blonde from another bar, so you don't get why Brittany's such a big deal.
Well, yeah, you do… But if you admit that then it basically gives them the right to pester you.
"If you heard it, it must be," you chirp with a fake sweetness, shooting him an equally fake smile but it doesn't put him off.
"Isn't that gonna be weird for you two now?"
That's the second time you've heard that, or rather the second person who's reacting negativity to the news and you're just so over it already. You don't regret sleeping with Brittany even a little, and it's not weird because somehow, you've been getting back to being friends. You've text and even had a few video calls alongside running into her accidentally those few times, and it's been chill. Neither one of you has mentioned having sex or doing it again but that's good and honestly, the safer option.
"No, Twinkie, it's not weird," you spit and turn to face him, body turning, too. "I don't have feelings for her, and she doesn't have feelings for me. We're both adults and we were kids when we were together and that's a whole other life ago. We're just friends now," you finish off with a quirk of your brow and glare. "Are you satisfied?"
Kurt raises both hands beside his ears, like he's surrendering to you and it's probably because he can see the fury building within, but you're not actually that mad. You're more annoyed that people keep talking about it like it's a bad thing, like you shouldn't have done it but you're both consenting adults and you can both make your own decisions. Sex is something you do lightly, but you respected Brittany and even told her that, and she returned the same words, so you know you're good.
You just wish people would just stop picking at it like if it happens again, you'll get told off or judged again.
"I'm just saying, I think it's a dumb move," he replies after a long moment, but you turn just after rolling your eyes at him for like, the sixth time since he popped up beside you and return to looking at Rachel who's almost done with the interviews.
"I think you marrying RuPaul's Reject is a dumb move after your train wreck of a relationship," you snap back instantly, unable to stop yourself from smirking at the nickname and how his mouth drops open, clearly offended. "But I manage to keep my opinion to myself."
Kurt scoffs, like he's disagreeing but you know it's a battle he can't win because their relationship isn't all smiles and rainbows. You've been there through most of it and there's been cheating, lying, blocking and a plethora of other dramatic events that can happen to the two gayest people you've ever met, so you know he's going to shut up as you're kind of a bitch and wouldn't hesitate in stooping that low if he chooses to continue.
"Yeah, barely," he still gets out, folding his arms across his chest as Rachel finishes up with the last interviewer and spies Kurt, instantly screeching and clapping her hands together like a damn seal and you watch as she checks over her shoulder to make sure the paparazzi have caught her hugging Kurt, a well-known political protestor and fierce defender of the LGBT community. That's like a hot topic in the world at the minute, as the gay rights movement is storming through all ridiculous laws set through history and as proud as you are to be in it, having someone like Kurt talk about it all the freaking time is kind of boring, but Rachel just latches on and pretends like she gives a damn about anything other than herself.
You actually know her, so you can see straight through her bullshit and choose to snap your fingers towards her to get them both inside so they can get away from the flash photography. The combination of trying not to vomit over Rachel's red carpet performance and having bright lights blind you every two seconds is giving you a headache and you could do without. Especially as the ceremony hasn't even begun.
Anyway, you breeze inside, glad to leave the yelling voices behind and Kurt and Rachel follow you, talking about the interviews behind you. You tell one of the guys in black suits that you're with Rachel Berry and shortly after, you're taken inside to the large stage, being walked to your seats, and seeing that it's still pretty empty. Empty enough that you can't help but notice a familiar head of blonde hair over by the stage immediately, surrounded by dancers in costumes who are on it, and your heart skips a beat because you'd recognise her anywhere, with any amount of people in the room, at any point.
Like your body just knows she's around, because obviously, it's Brittany, and you don't realise you've stopped walking until there's a hand pressing into your back and Kurt's whispering into your ear.
"Who is it? Is it Beyonce?"
You snap out of your trance, pretending like you weren't just watching Brittany in complete awe and clear your throat. You can't exactly say no, you were staring at the blonde instead.
"No, just Brittany," you breathe, trying to seem totally not interested but you guess that he knows it's an act because you did just stop walking in front of him. "Didn't know she was going to be here, that's all."
Kurt smirks at you, his eyes flitting towards the front of the stage and back again. "Thought you two were friends," he remarks, and you scowl at him. "Isn't that the kind of things friends know?"
"So you know where Rachel is all the time?" You throw back, even though yeah, he does most of the time but that's just because he's interested in what she does and is a total Broadway geek.
Luckily, he chooses not to respond and instead, you both walk to your designated seats at the smartly dressed usher drools over Rachel – you'll never understand that – before disappearing amongst a throng of people. You sit down, Rachel between you and Kurt and set your purse on your lap, drumming your fingertips against it as you try to put your energy into looking at everything that isn't blonde and beautiful and obviously in your direct line of sight, but it doesn't go on for long before you feel blue eyes on you, and well fuck it.
You're friends so it's totally cool when you steal a glance to see her grin widely, noticing your presence and ignoring the several dancers talking to her as she immediately gravitates towards the steps leading to the aisle. You clamp your jaw, pushing down the blood as it tries to rush to your cheeks and offer her a smile as she quickly turns back to say something to her dancers (even though she totally wasn't listening) before they all dart off, and then she's taking the steps two at a time with her wonderfully long legs until she gets to the end of your row and beckons you over with a wave of her hand.
There are a few people sat down, so it'd be more awkward for her to climb over laps and so you point to your side of the aisle, which she nods to and quickly makes her way around, and you slide out to meet her, a little breathless, offering out her hand to help you out.
For that you're glad. You've got killer heels on and a really tight dress. Not a good combo when trying to manoeuvre out of thinly spaced seats, and you thank her with a shy smile which sends butterflies thrumming inside your stomach. Totally not the reaction you should be having to her, but the whole manners thing is one of the many reasons you fell in love with her. She always cared about your well-being and not a lot of people did that.
"Hey," Brittany greets, her voice low and she takes a step back to look you up and down, not even trying to hide the way she's checking you out as her hand grips on to yours still, lifting high up into the air as if she's about to twirl you around for a better look. You'd tell her to stop, but you're fairly sure Rachel and Kurt are watching you anyway, so screw it. You'll just enjoy it yourself as they'll probably make a comment when you go back anyway.
"Hey," you reply, a little breathless, but you'll blame that on rushing to see her. "I didn't know you'd be here."
Brittany finally drops your hand and hooks her thumbs into the back pocket of her jeans. She's not dressed up, so you don't think she's here in the same capacity as you are, which just confuses you further but she's grinning at you like she doesn't care if she's underdressed.
"Few of my dancers are in the show and I came for support, but backstage," she explains and her eyes flit to the stage. "Not all of us get red carpet treatment like you do," she teases, rocking up on to the ball of her feet and you let out a chuckle, shaking your head because she's ridiculous.
"You can come with me next time, if you want," you reply and have a minor, internal freak out when you think how much that sounds like you're asking her on a date. "I mean, with Kurt and Rachel and stuff."
You only added the last part in pure panic, but Brittany seems to find it funny and begins laughing, cocking her head to the side like she totally knows what just happened in your mind.
"That would be cool," she says and meets your eye, holding them for a long moment, squinting blue ones for the following few seconds. "But I've gotta get backstage… My girls are on soon," she continues and gives you a small shrug. "You should find me after though, if you're not too caught up with news reporters again," she quirks with a chuckle and your eyes narrow. She must have seen you waiting for Rachel.
Still, you don't ask that question and instead grin at her. "Yeah, I'll text you to see where you are."
She holds your eyes again, bites her bottom lip and nods her head, never straying from it even when you hear someone call her name from the stage again, a young guy with a headset around his neck and you'd like to tell her that she should probably go, but you don't want her to. The last couple of times you've seen her, there have been people around and it hasn't been this comfortable, but you feel like the interaction you've just had has been more relaxed, so it'd totally be okay to text her and perhaps go for a drink afterwards.
If she wants.
So, without another word, and quick (but shy) smile, you bob your head and begin walking back through the seats to get back to your own as Brittany disappears down the steps to the stage again.
/
Okay, so you thought Brittany meant when she wanted to see you afterwards, that she wanted to go for a drink or maybe introduce you to her friends that performed during the award ceremony.
But here you are, pressed against the inside of the door to your apartment with Brittany on her knees in front of you, swallowing your entire length and doing that thing with her tongue that's a perfect combo of suction and gliding and you're biting down so hard on your bottom lip that you could draw blood. Your dress is bunched up around your waist, which she made quick work of the second she had the opportunity, but you don't really remember how you got to that point.
One second you were saying goodbye to Kurt and Rachel after the awards, then she was asking if you wanted to share a cab and split the fare, which really, considering the last time you shared a cab home, you both know what happened, and that should've been a reminder, but you just didn't get that vibe from her. When you first saw her, you know she checked you out, but you didn't think it ran that deep before she was teasing you and being friendly and shit in the back and the thought just sort of… slipped away.
But now… Now you realise how naïve you were because you didn't see this time coming either, only becoming aware of what you were doing when she asked to see your apartment as you had already seen hers. It retrieved the memory of sleeping with her after all that time, apparently with her too as the air shifted and then she was grabbing the back of your neck at the same time you reached for her hips when you were stood outside your apartment building after silently agreeing to get out the cab together, and you were making out again.
Not that you're complaining though.
"Fuck," you hiss, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you peer down and see blonde hair bobbing rapidly between your legs. You honestly don't know anyone that can do this quite like Brittany, because she always manages to get the perfect balance of tempo and suction, throwing in a fist to take over whilst she pulls back for air, and it blows your mind every damn time.
"Hmm…" You hear from below, Brittany's hands stroking up your thighs and bunching up your dress in her fist as she reaches for your breasts, palming them over the fabric.
She doesn't stop though, just goes handsfree and runs her tongue along the underside of your shaft as she pulls back, and she's only been doing this for about two minutes, but you can feel yourself boiling to breaking point. You can feel the signs like the sweat at the back of your neck, the pressure low in your groin and you reach down to blonde hair, stroking it back and out of her face until she lets you fall out of her mouth, one of her hands returning to the ministrations whilst blue eyes look up at you, narrowed and so fucking sexy you almost buckle to the floor.
There's a grin beaming back at you when you manage to blink away at the pleasure overtaking your body, and again, as much as you want her to swallow you, you really want to make her feel the same and so reluctantly, you urge her up by her shoulders, tugging her close to you as your mouths come back together. You moan at the taste in on her tongue, wanting nothing more than to mix it with hers and pull back, meeting sparkling eyes, just to explain that she was doing nothing wrong… She was just doing it far too well.
"You're too fucking good at that," you pant out, voice raspy in the way she likes it, and the grin turns back into a smirk.
Brittany doesn't answer, just bites her bottom lip, and pulls you back in with hand fisting the fabric of your dress and your bodies collide together as you stumble backwards, stroking your tongue into her mouth immediately and excitement shooting through her when you pull a whine from her throat. Then it's your turn to smirk, and you break the kiss to show her it, but she just groans, rolls her eyes with a fucking smile on her face that makes you melt inside, and on the way back down, her vision flits around your apartment.
Seeing as you're a publicist for a well-known figure, you make good money, and you let it show in your furnishings and the sheer size of your place. You know it's far too big for just you, but it has the cutest little set up with your office set on an indoor balcony above the front room and a spiral metal staircase leading to it and you've always wanted one of those. You work hard too, so it's not like you're fronting or anything; you just spend your money well.
"You've got a nice place," Brittany observes through a strained tone, even though she's walking backwards down the hallway and you're steering her to your bedroom with your mouth attached to her neck.
Still, you pause at her words, pulling back to smile briefly – she's so wonderfully weird – and move closer towards her face, lips hovering near each other and eyes boring deeply into hers but at the last second, when she thinks you're about to kiss her instead of answer, you slide off to the side and bite down on her pulse point. "I've got a nicer bedroom," you purr into her skin, ignoring the way you're twitching against your thigh as you put all focus into thinking she's got far too much clothing on. "And a bed that you would look great on," you add on, confidence surging through you as your tongue slides up the muscle in her throat.
Hands scramble at your shoulders and move to your neck, Brittany moaning again like whatever you're saying is doing serious things to her and she kisses you hard, biting down on her bottom lip and inhaling sharply through her nose as you kick open your bedroom door and stumble into it. When you get to the bed, you throw her body back on to it, stilling at the end as she slowly props herself up on her elbow, eye fucking the shit out of you as she uses one finger to beckon you over, and you swear to God you nearly faint.
"God, Britt," you hush, reaching down to grasp at yourself as even that fucking look is testing you, but you stay in your spot for two seconds as you tug your dress over your head and toss it to the side, standing completely naked for her to see. She starts from your legs, but then her gaze is dragging back up slowly lingering between them for a long moment before the ocean blue, now so much darker and intense than before, and you smirk at her as you crawl up the end of the bed, kneeling to reach for her jeans.
She lifts her hips to help you in the removal, panting hard and heavy and you put all your focus into tugging her shirt off afterwards because you know if you look at her, you're going to need to soak it in. She looks like a freaking angel, blonde hair haloed around her head on the pillow as she lays back down now completely naked too and you groan, your skin hot to the touch as you lower yourself down between her thighs, flinching at the skin on skin contact as it's so unfamiliar, but so familiar at the same time, sending a scorch across your body.
You wonder if you'll ever stop reacting like that.
(Not that you think you're going to have sex after this, but you also weren't expecting it a second time, so.)
(Never say never.)
"Santana," Brittany moans, her hands smoothing up the expanse of your back as her legs wrap around your waist, the impatience showing with the way her body is rolling.
You just return to kissing up her neck, sucking on her pulse point until there's a little red mark and then you giggle lowly into her ear, flicking your tongue out against her earlobe which makes her body shake violently beneath you. She's always loved that. "You're so impatient still," you tease, fully knowing that whenever you two played the sex game 'Too Hot' back when you were teenagers, she always caved first. She used to put up more of a fight, but you remember her body and how to turn her on with a single touch. "Patience, baby," you whisper, teeth nipping at her earlobe. "Patience."
But she does retaliate, apparently waiting for the prime opportunity and reaches between you, fisting your cock and pumping in a way that makes you jerk up into her, and you want to tell her off, but she could've tried to top you and then you would've had a little battle of dominance. You're way past that though, needing her to clench around you and finish you off after what she did to you at the front door, so you just push your lips back to her, deepening the kiss immediately and flicking your tongue against the roof of her mouth as she lines you up, rolling a condom, she must have reached for from the bedside table at some point, over you.
Just as you think you're about to sink into her, she breaks the kiss and tips your foreheads together, keeping you secure with her free hand at the back of your neck and stares deeply into your eyes.
"Just fuck me, Santana," she gets out, her voice broken and dripping with arousal, and you can only oblige, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you push into her.
/
Seeing as this is the second time you two have had sex, you decide it isn't a good idea to stay over and grab some take-out after.
Brittany seems like she's on the same wavelength – as if you start doing that, should it happen again, that'll become routine and that's where people usually start dating – and rolls out of bed, after taking five long minutes to catch her breath, telling you that she has to get home tonight as she has an early morning. You roll onto your side, tracing invisible patterns and pushing away the heaviness that creeps into your chest as you watch her cover her incredible body with clothes you took off her a couple of hours ago, but it's the safe option.
If she leaves, you can go and shower and get a good night's sleep and treat it like a respectable one night stand.
(Or is it a two night stand, when it happens twice?)
But anyway, your eyes don't leave her as she glides across the room, using your deodorant and hairbrush and tying her golden locks into a high pony as you kind of tangled them up during, and you giggle when she scowls fiercely, unable to find her socks that she took off at some point. You literally have no idea when, but the rest of her was bare and that was kind of distracting.
Still though… You can't deny you think you might love watching her leave as her hips sway and legs twitch every now and then, even ten minutes after you've finished, a stark reminder of the things you can do to her and roll on your front, shifting across the bed until you can reach out and touch her. You don't know why you do it because she spins around and stares down at you with a fair brow quirked, eyes narrowing but a playful smile at her lips and you forget how to breathe for a second.
And you panic, choosing to say the next thing that springs to mind, as you're wondering when you'll see her next and you think you know, but you just want to confirm. Also because it's literally the only thing you think of to say without telling her that she's beautiful. That's not a typical comment after a friendly sexual encounter.
"Kurt and Blaine are getting married next week," you blurt out, and she squints at you harder, the smile growing larger as she obviously knows that and you don't need to remind her as you spoke about it on the cab journey back, but doesn't linger over it, twirling back around to finish tidying up her smudged make-up in the mirror, eyes staring back at you through the reflection.
"Yeah…"
It's not how you expected her to reply. You were hoping she was going to carry the conversation like she always used to, but you guess it has been a long time since you spent time together so there's going be things that are different. She's not always going to react to you like she used to. She's not in love with you and you are just friends, so it shouldn't come as a surprise, but now you're in a sticky situation.
You only wanted to check when you'd see her next, but she's staring at you like she's waiting for you to explain why you would want to talk about the wedding – you think she knows where you're going with this – and you can't say you're only talking because you don't want her to leave now, so you just want to know when you'll see her next as that'd mean you're eager, and you're totally not. You've never been eager, never chased a girl, not even her when you were teenagers, and you won't now.
You can't now. Not with her.
"Just wondering if you're going," you try to play it off with a casual shrug, your vision dropping to the sheets crumpled beneath your elbows that's resting on top.
Brittany straightens up, turning to face you and cocks her hands on her hips, the curious but amused smile still on her face. "I am... Kurt asked me," she confirms and narrows her eyes again. You hate that she's trying to study you like she used to. It's making you get all hot. "Are you?"
"He's my best gay, so obviously," you drone out, twisting your body and kicking your legs over the side of the bed, dragging the sheet with you to cover your chest. She doesn't move back, which means you're now super close and having to tilt your head up to look at her. That so doesn't help with feeling hot as she's towering over you and smirking now and that's making the heat grow somehow. Give it a couple more seconds and you'll be tenting beneath the damn sheet.
"Are you going with anyone?"
That's the question you were hoping to lead to after her confirmation, but you weren't expecting her to be the one to ask it. But still… You stay cool and collected and drop your eyes from hers, choosing to stand and start getting dressed as you're now incredible aware you're the only naked one and she should probably go. That won't help if you're naked as you're both very attracted to each other and neither of you are ashamed to admit it.
Probably. You haven't heard it from her but she's the one that asked to see your apartment and she can't fake the way she looks at you when you're about to have sex, so.
"Not sure yet," you answer, stepping into your shorts and adjusting the hem of your shirt around your hips after throwing that on too, turning to step in front of the mirror so you can do what she just did and clear up the smudged mascara and adjust your hair. You don't look at her in the reflection though, more interested in sorting through various women in your mind from your past that you've hooked up with that you could take, just in case she tells you she's going with someone, too.
Sort of petty, but you're Queen Petty.
"I'm not," she continues, stepping around you and throwing the sheet over the bed to make it look less messy. Not that it works, and you've definitely got to change the sheets as there are all kinds of bodily juices on there, but you guess it's a distraction technique to draw attention away from her facial reactions. She used to do that, so maybe she does now, and it's another one of those changes you'll have to adjust to. "I like to steal other people's dates."
With that tacked on to the end of it, you hear the reply heavier now because great, you're sure no-one would ever hit on her. It's not like she's fucking drop dead gorgeous or anything and is amazing in bed. It's not like weddings are a place where people hook up or anything. Fantastic.
"Really? I like to go with someone… Make sure my plans are set."
This catches her attention, and she pauses mid-fluffing the pillow and stares at you. "What, because you have a hard time finding people to hook up with at weddings?" She laughs out, sarcasm heavy in her tone and it runs such a parallel to the thoughts you have in your head that you take a second and look her over. Is she inside your mind?
"Obviously not," you throw back, knowing a quick response is a good one. You can already feel both of you seeking familiarity and seeing through the words you speak, like you did when you were together. Sure, it was part of being best friends, but it feels more dangerous now you're all grown up, and you feel your walls shoot up as you finish tidying your face and lean against your vanity table, watching her finish off the bed and turn to face you, arms crossed. "Just like going with someone to those kind of things," you shrug.
Brittany's still smiling at you, weaker now, but you can see a little something behind her eyes that's making you feel uneasy. All you're doing is explaining that you like going with a piece of eye candy and a definite lay, but you don't think she's hearing it that way and when you think it over for a few more seconds, you realise how it could sound.
It could sound like you're suggesting you two go together, and that's why she's looking at you like that, and you kind of fucked up earlier when you asked if she wanted to go on your next red carpet venture, but you cleared that up quickly and now you're realising you should probably do that here. You've done this literally hours ago, just without throwing in an excuse as to why you would make plans with each other, and panic sets in, cold and hard, making your heart beat faster and faster as you think of what else to add in to get out of this.
But she speaks first, and your concerns are confirmed.
"Santana, I thought we talked about this–"
"Britt," you cut her off, feeling embarrassment creeping up your spine. You weren't actually asking her if she wanted to go as she'll be there anyway. You were more interested to see if she'd bring anyone and somehow tangled yourself up in the potential that you've got a date, even if you don't do dating. Going to a function or a wedding with someone is so different to dating, so you know that's safe zone for you with people who aren't your ex-girlfriends, but it still came across like you were getting to asking her if she wanted to go with you.
Which you weren't, so you should say it.
"I wasn't going to ask you if you wanted to go with me," you state and Brittany lifts her chin up, bobbing her head slowly and sucking in her lips, but you know she isn't buying it. "I just wanted to see who I'm gonna know there," you follow up, side-stepping out the tension that's building because no thank you. "And how hot my date has to be to outshine you," you tease and throw her a wink, just to making it even lighter.
Brittany laughs, which makes you sigh out a breath of relief and she heads towards the door, you following quickly as she begins gathering the few things off the floor she threw out her hand when you came into your apartment. You duck your head, trying not to think about how she was sucking you off barely a step inside the place, but then she's reaching for the door and your head cocks as her ass sticks out when she reaches down for her keys, by the scene of the crime.
Her hand reaches for the door, and she pulls it open, pausing when you grasp the edge of it and take over for her, just to see her out – it's only polite – but she stops sooner than you expected, so you're closer than intended and you gulp when she's like, right there, breathing distance away.
"Don't make her too hot or your date will be the one I'm stealing," she says, winking at you in a way that makes you tighten your grip on the door, but then she's moving forward and kissing you on the cheek, a motion that shouldn't make your legs shake, but it manages to do it anyway and that's twice in the space of a few seconds you've almost jelly-legged to the floor. You have got to get a control of your reactions when you're around her now.
You have got to play it cool, and you try to think of that as you reply. "No promises."
"Yeah, yeah…" Brittany mutters into your ear, lingering with her lips pressed to your blushing cheek. "See you there, Santana," she adds through a whisper, pulling back and the words painting on the breath she says them through, and you clench your jaw against the urge to shiver. Then you do the only thing you can find the strength to do and nod at her as she disappears down the hallway, throwing her purse over her shoulder and swaying her hips in a way that you know she's doing because she can feel your eyes on her.
The wedding isn't going to go any differently.
You groan loudly as you shut the door. Maybe you will find a date.
/
Four days before the wedding, Kurt calls you all panicky and high-pitched – which is a statement considering he breaks glass when he talks and is in a normal mood – and you tell him to calm down and that you'll meet him down at the venue to help him put the finishing touches together.
It's not really your thing, nor do you really care that much as he probably won't let you do anything without his prior consent regardless of his bitching of being 'overwhelmed by everything', but you guess you can help a friend in need and maybe karma will reward you in some way. Not to mention if you didn't, he'd probably call Rachel who would call you to go and do it anyway as her 'image is too precious to ruin by running errands' and when you're not on the clock, you like to keep as little contact with your client as possible.
You're still shocked you haven't slapped her yet.
Anyway, you get to the venue – a quaint solar-powered, plant infested courtyard garden – that Kurt insisted on getting married in as he's so eco-friendly and stands for what he believes in, and it's not the first time you've seen it as you were here with him on the tour, but you still roll your eyes when you spot vegan phrases plastered behind the bar. It's just one of those green places that prides itself on being super fucking economical, and shoves veganism and vegetarianism down everybody's throat who dares look at a steak.
But it's not your wedding, so you can withhold your comments. Or more comments, as you told him your opinion when you first toured the place.
You find him in the suntrap, ordering around flustered service workers and grin when you see Blaine go and try to calm him down before you get there – you're a tough love kind of girl – and fold your arms as you approach.
"You know, this is why most people hire a wedding planner," you say in lieu of a greeting, teasing him as he was confident in his skills prior to actually having to do it, even though you told him how stressful planning a wedding can be. He's not that strong of a character.
He shoots you a glare as Blaine begins rubbing his shoulders. "Tell me why I thought it was a good idea to call you?"
"You love me," you fire back with a fake smile and nod your head towards Blaine instead of saying hello. "Seriously though, you're going to pop a vein if you work yourself up any more."
Kurt exhales slowly through pursed lips, acting like the shoulder massage is actually doing anything to him and Blaine drops him a kiss to the cheek before heading off to talk to some of the workers. "I just need to make sure everything is right," he says, a little breathlessly and way too calm to actually be calm. "We've got A listers coming and the paparazzi are going to be everywhere.
"The perks of being paid to have strong opinions with zero practical ramifications," you quip back, because you had this talk with him before he put down a deposit on the place. There's barely any coverage, it isn't big enough to warrant setting security up at every entrance and it's a fucking courtyard garden, promoting concerns about global warming and all that shit so it's an open roof and hello? Helicopters exist.
"Shut up, Satan," he hisses and looks down at the clipboard in his arms. "I need you to tell these mindless idiots what they're doing because they don't seem to be understanding anything I'm saying," he gestures to the several workers gathered around Blaine, and you can hear him repeating the things you heard Kurt saying when you walked in.
You grin, mostly because that means he's in need of your bitch skills and you're fully prepared at all times to release some venom. You're glad it's being recognised as a good thing now, as it's usually used against you. "Probably because only dogs can understand you," you counter, grinning widely at him and throwing him a wink, and he looks offended for about five seconds before he's laughing with you, clearly in a good enough mood after that shoulder rub that he's not going to snap back. That's never a fight he wins.
"Shut up," he chuckles out and exhales loudly, dropping the clipboard in front of him and eying you for a long minute. You're in a good mood, shown by your playful teasing and now you're kind of wishing you hadn't been (your version) of nice as he always picks up on it. "Have you got a date yet?"
"No," you spit out, probably too quickly, but you were expecting it when his face shifted into a studying gaze, but you're not lying as you haven't yet.
You only had the conversation with Brittany a couple of days ago and there just hasn't been the right time to look in your little black book and find someone appropriate. It's not exactly something that takes five minutes as all the pages are filled, but you know you're going to. You feel like you should after telling Brittany you're going to bring someone hotter than her. Not like you can back out on your words now.
Even if you don't have anything to prove either way. You'd just feel better as your date should be a distraction from any lingering looks from Brittany.
"I'll probably find someone there if I don't find anyone to bring," you follow up, shrugging your shoulders as you stare at Blaine and the workers that still aren't doing anything but listening to him talk. No wonder Kurt got so wound up.
"Brittany isn't interested in dating, you know."
It's out of the blue, and you snap your eyes to him to find him giving you a knowing glare with a raised eyebrow. "First off, I'm the one that told you that," you start, feeling the bitch within creep up. At least you have some people to release her on to after this conversation. "Secondly, I didn't even mention her, and I'm not interested in finding her either," you emphasise the last words with a widening of her eyes, showing what he's trying to imply. Sex.
"I'm just reminding you of what you said," he shrugs, hearing his soon-to-be husband call his name and wave him over with a hand above groups heads. He begins walking off but turns to face you so he's moving backwards and holds his hands out in front of him, giving you another shrug like he's just asking, not prying, and you clench your jaw as you watch him join the group and rehash over the instructions he and his fiancée have already told them.
You've really got to find a date now.
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