Title: Pour Some Sugar On Me
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 15.3k
Summary: You get laid regularly, you're kind of dead inside so catching feelings isn't a worry, you earn tips upon tips as well as an hourly rate, top up your tan, have a mini work out and life is good. Or rather, that's how it goes until the Summer of 2013. That's when everything changes.
Notes:
/
You still have sex with other people.
You make sure to use condoms, as you're a little concerned about diseases and shit you don't want to think about, but for some reason, you and Brittany go without and have done since the first risky occasion. Apparently her mom always makes her go on the pill during the school year, as her periods are really bad and as it's Senior year, she can't take time off for sickness, so it helps with that too, and it's good enough for you and good enough for her.
(You only had to pull out once, and that was fucking hard to do as all you wanted to do was the opposite.)
Anyway, you makes sure to treat Brittany like any other girl, who happens to be from a rival school, by keeping her at an arm's length. You chase girls at your school that you've never been interested in, succeeding by getting through as many as possible with Puck doing the same and you push away stupid suspicions and assumptions about you and Brittany's relationship status. You don't fill the time apart with texts or calls, you only see her two or three times a week for purely sexual purposes, and thanks to being from totally opposite worlds, you never run into her.
Well, until one night where you're hanging out with Puck at the basketball court, shooting a few hoops, that he gets a text.
"Shit, Finn Hudson is throwing a party tonight at his," he reads out, and you turn to look at him over your shoulder, crouched on the floor next to his duffel bag. "That jackass sent out an invite to everyone on Facebook, including his cousin who goes to Lima Heights. He just tweeted the football squad the time and place."
You laugh as Finn is just that type of stupid and sweep the ball of the ground, tucking it beneath your arm as you head over to Puck. You grab your towel, dabbing it over your forehead to rid yourself of the thin layer of sweat, and then Puck hands you a bottle of water as he returns to his feet, looking right at you. Which makes your mouth pop open, something insulting about to roll off your tongue to get him to stop but then you notice the glint in his eye and narrow your own.
"Oh God, what are you thinking?" You drone, your brain already knowing the answer.
Puck just smirks and whips the towel off you, rubbing at his face. "Think we got a party to crash," he replies and yup, you knew that was coming but that's so not a good idea.
That's a McKinley High party and sure, he could rally the troops, you could get Mercedes and have a great time destroying Finn Hudson's house with toilet paper and shotgunning beers inside to ruin the carpets, but you also feel like it'd be risky. Not a good risky either, like doing something bad that feels good, as there's this stirring low in your gut telling you that the chances of running into Brittany are high as she's on the cheerleading squad and the quarterback's party is something she'd probably have to attend.
But it's not like you can admit that, and you panic for a whole second before lifting a shoulder and rolling your eyes, brain searching for any excuse. "That's lame," you try but Puck screws up his face. "And this whole thing between you and the Double Stuff Douchebag is getting really old," you point out as it's been years since the whole steal-your-girl and bang-your-mom thing that started this age-old rivalry. Puck definitely won it too, but it never seems enough for him. "Let's just get some beers in and I'll school you at Mortal Kombat again."
He doesn't like your offer, and scoffs before towel whipping you in the leg which makes you yep. "Shut the fuck up… Brittany might be there."
You freeze as yeah, that's one of the reasons you don't want to go. "So?" You fire back. "I got laid yesterday," you tell him as that new girl Aphasia in your science class was easier than you thought. She had major daddy issues, so you were just rude enough that she eventually got so pissed she pulled you into the janitors closet to take out some anger. "I'm just bored watching you try to make the knuckle dragger cry."
"Uh, why?" He shoots back, astounded that you've just said that but really? It's so old now and he won the second he banged Carol Hudson. That was a bold and impressive move. "Stop being a fun sponge and get your shit. I wanna shower before we go," he tosses the towel at your face and runs off to shoot one more hoop, leaving you to glare at him.
Guess you don't have a choice now.
/
As expected, Puck calls up a few of his boys and gets them to come along.
You call Mercedes, as this is so not something you want to do alone or sober, and she always sneaks a bottle of something from her parent's liquor cabinet. She turns up with tequila, and you drink half of it, squished into the back of Puck's truck as he drives you both and Tank to the Hudson household. You're in convoy with two cars behind, filled with the football team all wearing their black and white letterman jackets and you grin at Mercedes, pretending like you're not kind of nervous to be here, but you love drama and you're sure it'll be fine.
Thanks to the tequila, this whole thing seems like a great idea now, even if there's a good chance you'll see someone in there you don't think you want to.
(It's been three days since you text or saw Brittany.)
(You're trying to space out the visits to clean her hot tub and fill your schedule with a few more in the area.)
"Let's go girl," Mercedes bumps you in the shoulder and when Tank climbs out the front seat, she pushes it forward and stumbles out the car, her boyfriend aiding her in the movement. You laugh, following her and the wind hits your cheek as you get out, slamming the door behind you with the liquor in hand.
Puck grins at you as he joins your side, hands dug into his jacket and you all form a line as everyone leaves their vehicles, and the music is already booming from inside the house. There are strobe lights too, and the place is pretty big – which isn't surprising as apparently Finn's stepdad is into politics or something – but that just means there's more for you to screw up. Petty, you're sure of it, but you've got a low buzz in your ears, there isn't that nagging voice in the back of your head anymore and Puck's enjoying himself too.
So fuck it, time for you to crash the party.
/
Thanks to Finn's big ass house with like it means it takes a good half an hour for word to spread that a McKinley party just got crashed by a bunch of Lima High kids.
By then, everyone has a drink in hand, no fights have ensued which is a miracle as upon entrance, your group received several hisses, and you're sat on one of the couches, across from the dance floor, pretending like you're not searching for a familiar face. Mercedes has been laughing her ass off with Sugar, who didn't even blink when she saw you and you only banged her a couple times, but it was enough that she should remember you, but she didn't and actually, that was an easier reaction to handle.
It didn't deflate your ego, but if Sugar doesn't remember who you are and she goes to McKinley, there is hope for you yet as it means she won't talk to potentially three other blondes that could appear.
Anyway, you get bored of sitting and grab Mercedes hand, who tries to protest but you want to dance and check in on Puck, and she tells Sugar she'll be back shortly as you pull her up. You weave through the crowd, pushing through bodies and snarling when someone tries to stand in your way, but you guess you come across intimidating somehow – it's probably the leather jacket – and you find Puck and Tank, and a few more of the team crowded by the bottom of the stairs, red solo cups in hand.
You head straight for your best friend, clearing your throat when you're close enough. "Thought we were gonna get some drama," you comment as Puck was giving it the big talk, but you're fairly sure you saw Finn go over to him about ten minutes ago and no hands are being thrown. That's really would've perked up your evening. "Where's Frankenteen?"
He shrugs and scans the room. "Don't know," he says. "We talked, and he told me if we didn't start anything, we could stay," he continues, and you screw your face up, but Puck does the same, just more confused than you are. "What? You said it was boring watching me trying to make him cry."
You did, and now you're annoyed you said that as that was a weak attempt at not coming, but you had no choice. Puck literally dragged you along even though you tried to get out of it like four times, and that was on the basis you could at least teepee his house or something. You thought this party was going to be fun but so far it's a freaking drag and if something exciting doesn't happen in the next couple of minutes, you're out of here.
"Obviously, I was lying," you shoot back, and Puck begins laughing through his nose, shaking his head, but then his eyes flit over your shoulder and he stops altogether which makes you freeze, too. "What?"
"Think the drama you wanted is incoming," he replies, but he's still not looking at you and despite you being fairly intoxicated, there's still this sharp spike of panic that shoots through your veins.
Still, you brace yourself and follow his line of sight, feet spinning and out your peripheral vision, you see Mercedes do the same as you find what he's looking at, and your heart stops at the same time your breathing does. Because yeah, you did want drama, and you hate that Puck's maybe not as naïve as you initially thought because it's none other than Brittany gliding into the front room, the crowd parting to make room for her as she begins dancing on one of the tables with her shirt swinging above her head, completely topless.
She has thigh high black boots on, the smallest pair of shorts on too which just highlights how freaking long her legs are, and you gulp heavily, trying to kickstart your brain but there is half a bottle of tequila in your system, so you have no control over how you're reacting. Now you're kind of regretting getting drunk prior to turning up and then stealing beers from McKinley kids to keep the buzz level, because she's dancing on the table, all attention on her and yup, here comes the jealousy.
You were so fucking wrong. You didn't want this type of drama and you definitely didn't want to swallow your tongue and forget how to function as somewhere inside; you knew Brittany would be here. You wanted to take the wading into the shallows approach that you've tried with her before, even though you've only had three seconds to figure that out and no proof that it's ever worked before, but you don't really know how to handle this now.
However, seems like you don't have to figure that out for yourself.
"Oh, shit," Mercedes sings, and you snap your gaze to her just to look at something else and try to recompose yourself. "That's Brittany, isn't it?" She asks and you shoot her a glare. She knows that's Brittany, but she's drunk and finds it funny and just throws her head back laughing. "Bitch, let's go dance," she grabs your hand and lifts it in the air, dragging you toward the front room as Puck slaps your ass as you leave for encouragement.
Guess you're diving straight into the deep end.
Again.
/
You make it into the crowd of sweaty bodies, the strobe lights flashing above which disorientates you further before you start dancing. The alcohol coursing through your veins is already doing a good job of that, but you guess that's the intended effect and if this were a Lima Heights party, you know there'd be some party drugs being passed around, too.
McKinley aren't badass enough for that though, and there's more than enough of alcohol for everyone and apparently, there are no fights so you can enjoy your night in a different way.
Or that's what you're trying to convince yourself as you turn, ensuring your back is to Brittany who's on the table, surrounded by rowdy drunken teens. They're all chanting her on, like she's a stripper on a pole and you don't want to see it as your inhibitions have gone and all you can think about doing is yanking her down, even though that'd totally be a weird thing to do.
You should probably find someone to hook up with. That'll be a good distraction.
"She's hot," Mercedes randomly comments as she begins shimmying her hips to the music, peering over your shoulder. "Seems like she's popular with the guys, too."
You hold back on the snarl threatening to form on your lips and bob your head. "Yup," you curtly reply, tilting your head back and listening to the beat of the music, trying to focus on that instead of the sound of a someone's name being chanted again and again. "And I'm popular with her friends," you add on, and Mercedes arm snaps out, hand wrapping around your wrist as the conversation turns more serious, the dancing being forgotten about.
"Shut up," she hisses, pausing between each word and you play it off with a grin, even though you get all panicky inside. You didn't mean to say that loud enough for her to hear. "You boned Brittany and her friends?" She accuses, but it's completely accurate and to be honest, you're shocked this hasn't been brought up before. She does know about you and Puck and what you get up to during the summer even if you haven't directly told her.
"Yeah, and?"
Mercedes eyes you like you just spoke a foreign language, then glances at the table behind you before returning to the dumbfounded staring contest. "Girl, this is spicy," she screeches and looks way too excited, jiggling about and shit so you screw your face up and scoff. "What? I could do with some drama. This party was lame before hearing that."
Just as you're about to insult her with a string of Spanish expletives as you are not here to entertain her, you hear the chanting stop and turn into a cheer instead, which usually, wouldn't worry you, but when you see the grin drop from your friends face, it does. Instead of panic, you feel something colder ice over your chest and suck your lips into your mouth, ignoring your gut screaming at you to just walk out of the party, and follow Mercedes line of sight to the table over your shoulder.
Which once had just Brittany on it, but obviously now she's not alone.
"Ayyyy!" You hear from the crowd, but you feel no need to celebrate as you see some asshole in a McKinley letterman jacket, scoop Brittany off the table from where he is on the floor, until she wraps long legs around his waist and then he kisses her.
Everyone cheers them on, and you don't really understand what happened as two seconds ago, she was stripping, but you don't really care because turns out? You don't wanna see her shoving her tongue down someone else's throat. You definitely don't want to see Brittany smile into the kiss, or the flash of pink as her tongue sweeps into his mouth. You definitely don't want to feel the way your stomach drops into your ass as you instantly tear your vision away, because it's far too late.
You've seen it, you just imprinted it into your memory without any effort whatsoever and now you're cursing that bottle of tequila as it makes your stomach turning a lot harder to hide.
Which, naturally, means Mercedes notices and gasps, eyes widening and there's no chance of you playing this one off.
"Santana–"
"Don't," you grit out, preventing her from saying what she's about to that will undoubtedly piss you off even more and throw her a sharp glare. "Don't fucking say it," you hiss, even though you don't actually know what 'it' is, but you're three seconds away from throwing up so you need to leave. "Either leave with me so I can puke or shut the fuck up and let me go by myself."
For a second, Mercedes actually hesitates. Her eyes flit behind you, where the crowd is now fucking chanting Brittany and someone else's name – Sam, you think – and then back to you, over and over until you're vibrating with impatience. Your stomach is still fucking turning, you were serious about vomiting, and you don't have time for judgement or to fill her daily quota on gossip as you think she just saw you get a little jealous over a girl.
Not just any girl… Brittany Pierce from McKinley High.
"Okay," she finally lands on and grabs your arm, tugging you through the bodies and toward the back door.
You make it three steps out before the bottle of tequila comes up.
/
"So, are you gonna tell me what that was about?"
You throw Mercedes a glare, straightening up and wiping the corners of your mouth. She has a bottle of water in her hand – she must have grabbed it on the way out – and she hands it over, eying you as you make a point not to reply whilst uncapping it. You only threw up because you had downed almost an entire bottle of tequila and were surrounded by hot crowds of people and it all just got a little too much.
It was nothing to do with the fact that Brittany was making out with someone else, or at least that's what you're trying to convince yourself.
"There's nothing to tell," you reply and shrug, swirling the water around in your mouth before spitting it out. "I hooked up with Brittany and her friends and now she's hooking up with someone else by the looks of it," you shrug, even though the words make you wince. "So maybe I should go find another one of her friends," you finish and brush past your friend, but before you can get far, there's a hand wrapping around your bicep and preventing you as Mercedes narrows her eyes into a judgemental glare.
"Do you really think that's a good idea?"
No, you don't, but you're still drunk despite your stomach contents now being in the bush nearby, so there's a part of you that thinks it is. That's the part you want to work with as you really didn't want to see Brittany make out with someone else but that's insane. You two are just having sex. You're just fuck buddies and if anything, it's just made you want to sleep with someone else to prove to her that you're just as chill as she is.
Which is probably a childish way of reacting, but you're okay with that right now. Drunk, remember?
"Yup, so come get a drink with me so I can find someone hot."
Mercedes frowns, hold your eyes but then clicks her tongue, shakes her head and gives up. There's no point in trying to argue with you as without being drunk, you're already as stubborn as possible, and with it, you're even worse, so she shrugs and you both head back into the house.
/
It doesn't take long.
You're by the table of drinks when you see a cute redhead eye fucking the shit out of you. You pour your drink, then Mercedes, then push her towards Puck and Tank who are still being boring assholes, and make your way over to your target, sat on the sofa, doing all the right things until she's grabbing you by the lapel of your shirt and kissing you. It's sloppy, and there's none of your usually finesse because you're drunk, she's drunk, and you won't even remember this tomorrow morning, but it doesn't stop.
If anything, it gets hotter as the alcohol creates this complete unawareness that you're at a freaking house party, surrounded by people and one second, she's pressed up on your side and the next she's straddling your lap, getting a little X rated than intended. Her hips are grinding, you're getting worked up and beginning to ache down south, and you break apart from her kiss, sparing a quick glance but no-one seems to even be acknowledging what you're doing on the sofa as you begin a path down her neck.
You can't even remember this girl's name, but you don't have time to double check if she even told you before you catch the first set of eyes, firmly locked on to you from the other side of the room.
Because Brittany's there, leaning against the fireplace with a few of her friends and she's watching you. Her eyes are narrowed, her attention firmly set on you despite there being obvious conversation going on but she's oblivious. You get that, because you forget to continue making out with the girl in your lap and she takes over, pushing your head back and dropping her face to your skin, biting at your pulse point and continuing her hip rotation, all because fucking Brittany's now staring at you.
It's weird, mostly because you know exactly what it feels like for her to be all over you like this stranger is. You know exactly what it feels like for her to be kissing up your neck, flicking her tongue against your earlobe and whisper dirty things in your ear, and the worst part? You know that it's nowhere near as pleasurable either and apparently, something on your face reveals that, shows you're not as into it as you are when it's her because Brittany begins smirking, tracing a single finger around the rim of her cup as she eyes the girl in your lap before staring at you with a knowing grin.
But that pisses you off.
This is what she was doing earlier with that asshole, admittedly not as X rated but still, and you're only doing the same thing. It's not a competition or anything, but you're just showing that you're fully capable of satisfying your needs elsewhere and that she should be too. She probably is, if earlier is anything to go by, and it's just weird because you two have managed to keep your lives separate until tonight. You've been able to enjoy the fuck buddy bubble that's created whenever you go to service the hot tub, or meet up in a parking lot somewhere, but here it's hard to do.
Mostly because you can't deny that you'd much rather that Brittany was begging you to fuck her, over this girl. That you'd much rather be pushing your hips up to meet practised grinds instead of the offbeat ones this girl is doing, as the blonde knows your body better than anyone ever has.
That's dangerous though, and so you fuel the way she's clearly noticing that you're not that into it by grabbing the back of the girl's head and pushing your lips back together, breaking the eye contact. It makes it easier to do, and you let your mind swim with the buzz of alcohol as the girl begins clambering off your lap, but as she stands, you cast a glance and no longer find Brittany where she was a second ago.
Which you shouldn't notice, as your girl is offering out her hand and telling you she wants to go find a bedroom, but it makes you search for Brittany. Unwittingly, you begin scanning the party, the sweaty faces and smudged makeup, and it's not long before you find the blonde you're searching for, by the bottom of the stairs…
Except she isn't alone.
That jock from earlier is right behind her, being pulled up to the first floor, and Brittany must sense you're staring, or somehow hears your stomach drop in your ass from over there – albeit unlikely – as she turns her head, meeting your eye from across the room and holds them. It feels significant somehow, and everything around you goes in slow motion, but this time, she's the one to shut down the eye contact and looks away, not even bothering to look back as she urges the guy's arms around her as they stumble up the last few steps.
And well?
Two can play at that game.
Without a second thought, you push the redhead off your lap and find the bathroom downstairs, flicking the lock shut and having your way with her.
/
You don't see Brittany until the next time you have to go to her house for the hot tub.
Thanks to Puck passing down his knowledge, he tells you that he can't make the job which seems to be happening every visit now, but whatever. You could do with the cash as you keep it as you're the one putting in the effort, and you head over in your SUV, a bag of your newly purchased equipment – that's all yours – stored in the back. It's not much, and you're happier doing hot tubs during winter as the services are quicker, the requirements are less, and prior to today, you got the added bonus of getting warmed up by Brittany after.
Something for some reason, you don't feel is going to happen which is why this time, you're not feeling so good about being here.
Anyway, you head up to the front door, knock on it and take a step back and a breath. It swings open seconds later, and it's not Brittany, much to your dismay, it's Crystal, and she beams a wide smile before beckoning you in.
"Come in, sweetie," she says, and you look left to right, confused. You never go through the house. "It's cold out there."
It's true. There's a light dusting of ice on the sidewalk, and a chill in the air but this is what you signed up for. Fall is always confusing as it's hot and cold – somehow at the same time – but now it's creeping into winter and it's just plain freezing, so you appreciate the offer and shrug, heading inside, but the second you get in there, you regret it. There are pictures of the Pierce family everywhere, all with striking blue eyes, wide smiles and you cock your head to the side when you see an older sister, you suppose, sat next to Brittany in one of them.
You didn't know she had a sister.
"Let me get you some cocoa," Crystal ushers you into the front room, and you're about to protest but then you hear the creaking of the stairs and whip your head around, finding another familiar face staring back at you. One you just saw in the photos.
For her part, Brittany looks entirely confused, jerking her head back, then getting her phone out from her back pocket and checking it but frowning and you know why. You usually text her before you come over as it gives her time to come up with an excuse as to where she'll be when you two inevitably disappear, but you're not feeling it today. After seeing her with her tongue stuck down someone else's throat the other day, it's left this bitter taste in your mouth that you just can't shake and it's worse now she's in front of you.
Even though that's super fucking hypocritical considering what you did right after with that redhead, but whatever.
"Hey," she greets and slowly descends the stairs, hand on the railing. "I didn't know you were coming," she draws out, vision shifting to her mom who just grins, eying the conversation.
It's weird, so you look at Brittany but she's way too focused on widening her eyes and tilting her head to the side, a silent request for her mom to disappear and she does, clapping her hands and making it super obvious even though you think that was supposed to be subtle. Which makes you want to smile, but you kind of don't want to be left alone for once with Brittany as you're all weird and shit now.
Regardless though, you need to answer. You're not rude.
"Last minute visit," you explain with a bob of your head, sucking your lips into her mouth when she squints, not buying it and stops at the bottom of the stairs. "We've picked up a few more customers with hot tubs and one's right around the corner," you follow up with zero thought put into it, but she doesn't know it's a lie.
"Right," Brittany drags out and drops her hand from the railing, rocking on to the balls of her feet as she peers down the direction her mom went before turning back to look at you, with a glint in her eye.
It makes your stomach flip, and you swallow audibly as she presses closer, the hand that was on the railing now reaching out and grabbing at the zip of your jacket, fingers flicking the metal back and forth, and you're not stupid. You know exactly what she wants and if you hadn't seen her the other night at the party, you'd jump at the chance. Even if her mom isn't totally out of earshot, you could probably sneak into a bathroom downstairs for a few minutes but that's not why you came and that's why you didn't text her.
You just feel weird now and you don't know what to do with the feeling.
However, her perfume wafting up from her skin is making it really hard to concentrate on that.
"You should've text me," Brittany purrs, her lashes fluttering as she looks up at you through them and yeah, it still makes your knees wobble, but you push your tongue to the back of your teeth and lean backwards, jaw clenched. She notices it though, the smirk faltering as she reels back too, brows furrowed as her gaze roams across your face, only picking up on the change of attitude as apparently she didn't before.
"Like I said, last minute thing," you blurt out, just to say something before she does and clear your throat as you take a step back, trying to seem chill but the fact you stepped back already contradicted that.
And there's no way in hell she hasn't caught on to your shiftiness now, and she takes in a deep breath, straightening up and dropping her grip from your jacket, only to fold her arms over her chest and suck her lips into her mouth as she studies you. Her shoulders are more squared now, and you've never seen her look at you so seriously before as that's not something that usually happens as you two are flirty and playful, not serious.
"But now we can't…" She whispers, even though that's fairly obvious at this point that no, you're not going to be fucking in a couple minutes, but she just asked for clarification.
Which you give with a sharp nod, avoiding eye contact as you glance around to see where the back door is and feel her attitude shift, too. "Yeah, I know. I didn't think I had to tell you when I was coming every time and I just wanted to fit you guys in so I can get a day off," you reply and it's much sharper than intended, with little thought again and Brittany shifts once again.
This time, looking entirely unimpressed and confused at your attitude. Not that you can blame her, you are kind of being an ass. You basically said you don't want to fuck her every time you come over which entirely inaccurate.
You're just getting defensive.
"You don't have to tell me," she grits out and when you finally drag your gaze back to her, she looks away with disappointment and you hate the way your stomach sinks. "Just thought you might have wanted to," she finishes and wets her lips before pressing them into a tight line, now glaring at you instead of staring. "But if it's just about fitting us in, then I wouldn't want to waste your time," she sweeps out her hand, gesturing to where Crystal disappeared, and you don't know what to do.
There shouldn't be any hesitation because you are here to do a job, not to argue and question why she's acting like this when if anything, you're the one that's pissed. Even though you aren't, you just… You don't know what you are, but it doesn't matter because that's not what you're here for. Brittany's just your fuck buddy, and nothing's technically changed as you were banging other people alongside her, and she was doing the same.
But seeing it…
That just shifted something inside of you. Something you'd rather not creep to the surface, so you just purse your lips, clench your jaw and follow the direction she's pointing you in as you find the kitchen and right after, the back door, feeling her eyes on you the entire time.
You pass on offer of the hot cocoa from her mom.
/
It takes a full three minutes for Brittany to follow you.
You don't even get your shit out your bag or begin draining the hot tub when the sound of the doors sliding open behind you pings through your ears and you hear her take in a deep breath. But no sound of footsteps after, not onto the grass or the decking, so you peer over your shoulder and stand, finding her leaning against the doorway with her vision firmly set on you.
You should be surprised she followed, but the way she's looking at you is kind of confusing and making your something spike beneath your skin, so you don't get to ask her why she did as she takes the lead with, "Why didn't you tell me you were coming to Finn's party?"
That really wasn't what you were expecting, and it shows by the immediate knitted brow and twisted lips, but you guess the note you left the last conversation resounded and made her think about reasons why you'd be giving her the cold shoulder. Reasons that probably stemmed from the last time you saw each other, which involved zero talk, and just longing and inappropriate stares from across the room and it's clearly led her here to see if there's any connection.
Which you'd like to deny before it's even verbally considered. "Didn't know if you'd be there," you try as you might not have known it was a McKinley party initially. "Turned up with Puck, Wheezy and some of hers boys and we were already drunk so we just went in anyway and found out after," you shrug but Brittany chuckles lightly, which is a complete contrast to the expression on her face prior to it stretching into a small smile and you blink at her. "What?"
She looks back at you, the dry laughter dying off and wraps her arms around herself as she pads out into the garden. She doesn't come all the way, just up to the decking to get beneath the heat lamp you stuck on when you got out here, and leans against the column there instead, temple resting on the wood.
"Don't play dumb, San," she replies, and the nickname makes your stomach flip, but you just drop your gaze to the equipment by your feet. You're really trying to retain this steely exterior. "Sugar's one of my best friends and she was talking to Mercedes the whole night," she tells you with a knowing quirk of her eyebrow and shit.
You knew they were talking but you didn't think you or Brittany were a topic of discussion, and because you've just been caught with your hand in the cookie jar, trying to save face and failing, you splutter and immediately divert your attention to what you're supposed to be doing. There's no way you can talk your way out of this now, and your body is totally aware of that as it's flushing with heat and your cheeks are getting hot and double shit.
You really need to say something as the silence is a dead giveaway you had a reason not to text her that night and tonight and you're trying to hide it.
"So? Wheezy is the biggest gossip around," you shrug, and twist open the drain valve at the bottom of the hot tub, watching the water stream into a nearby grate in the decking. "All kinds of crap comes out of her mouth so you gotta second guess everything," you add in as it's not a lie.
Sometimes the excitement gets too much and Mercedes paraphrases snippets of gossip to make it seem far more interesting than it is.
You go to stand, but then you feel Brittany take a step closer and you know if you do get up then you'll have to turn around and you're way too close to the hot tub which means you're going to be way too close to her. That doesn't seem like something you want to do, as you're starting to feel like you're prey being cornered by its predator, and that never happens to you.
If anything, it's the other way around and it's such a turn of events that you almost stumble as you slide out tactfully and sweep a chemical tester off the top of the bag, putting some space between you and Brittany as you skirt around the other side of the tub.
But she just smirks, watching every breath and step you take and narrows her eyes when you're finished, desperately trying to focus on testing the water even though you don't need to because you're draining it down, but your hands are doing their own thing. Your left hand keeps twitching, and your right is trembling like crazy and your mind is everywhere.
"So you didn't have a conversation with Puck about me probably being there?" She asks, trying to maintain your gaze but you keep looking away. You think this is what it feels like to get nervous as yeah, you did, but you don't know how she knows that. "Like you said, Mercedes has a big mouth," she explains even though you didn't ask and a single brow twitches knowingly which makes you want to explode.
No-one's ever challenged you like Brittany fucking Pierce does.
Still, that's completely caught you off guard to the point where your mind doesn't even tick over and instead glitches because she's fucking calling you out. She is cornering you, like you first expected but she's not trying to get anything from you which is confusing. She's just trying to piece together something together in her mind and you really don't want her to start on that train because you might not know her that well – you're well acquainted with her body, but not her – but you think she'll probably figure it out.
Even if you haven't quite gotten there yet.
Because she's trapping you, and you're getting frustrated that you can't remember a single thing Puck taught you about servicing a hot tub, you go into defence mode. Frustration boils beneath your skin, your cheeks still really hot and only getting hotter and you know you're panicking. Except your version of panicking as it usually comes out in the form of aggression and shocker… That's exactly what happens this time.
"God, Britt," you get out, voice airy and Brittany's eyebrows shoot up. "I'm not playing dumb, and I didn't know for sure you'd be there, and I'm not avoiding you or anything," you choke and shove all the water testing kit away, slamming the plastic lid down hard and ignoring as you catch the top of your fingertip. "But I don't feel the need to tell you where I'm going to be or what I'm doing, and clearly you were distracted anyway," you sweep your hand out and whereas she looked surprised by your outburst, something you said must have resounded as she's now narrowing her eyes with an unreadable emotion behind them.
Fuck.
You don't know if you're being even remotely convincing, and it probably didn't help that you've inadvertently acknowledged the staring contest you had when she was disappearing upstairs with that guy, but that's not what you think she's reacting to. She was there and didn't seem that drunk so you don't think she doesn't remember the weird gaze you shared, but now you're second guessing yourself.
You don't get to think over it for long though before Brittany's finishing up with her thoughts, finally tearing her eyes away from you and taking a step back which makes you breathe a little easier. But she's not dropping it, and just takes up residence by the column again, crossing one foot over the other, leaning against the wood on her shoulder and resting her head against it again, showing that she's just getting comfortable.
This conversation is far from over.
"Firstly," she starts and there's a small twitch at the corner of her lip. She's trying not to smile. "I never said you were avoiding me," she points out and cold fear creeps into your chest, icing over your lungs. FUCK. "But good to know, and secondly, I was distracted by Sam," she pauses, and you resist the urge to wince. That's a fucking stupid name. "But you were distracted yourself if I remember right," she shrugs and yup, there it is.
She's acknowledging it and now you feel less pressure but definitely weirder.
It's like you're arguing but no-one's raising voices or showing anger.
"So?"
Brittany's smirk turns into a smile, and she laughs quietly, head shaking slightly. "So," she enunciates. "Now I think you're avoiding me, and you're doing it because I was hooking up with someone else," she states and it's so to the point that your jaw drops open.
How does she even know that? You somehow said too much when you haven't said that much.
"No," you snipe out and her eyebrow just lifts further, so you back yourself up with a scoff and roll of your eyes before you drop into a crouch and watch the water coming out the plug. Apparently holding eye contact isn't convincing her so maybe you'll do a better job by not looking at her. "But seeing as you saw me with that chick at the party, then you know I'm currently satisfied," you shrug and you don't hear your own words and how they sound until they're out there, so you can't take them back, but your mouth still keeps moving. "I don't need to get laid so that's why I didn't text you."
This time, when you peer back at her, she's not smiling. There's no smirk on her face either, but a tight line where her lips disappear into her mouth and her usually bright eyes are dead as they bore at you. Her eyelids are heavy, a frown deep in her brow instead of the cocky, knowing arch it was in a second ago, and you swallow thickly as this is the first time you've hated that she's been looking at you.
Even when she caught you making out with that girl, you had a thrill as well as chill, but this is just straight up cold. This is like you said something that hurt her, and before you can take back what you said, apologise maybe, even though you don't do that, the confidence to do so drains as blue eyes narrow.
You really didn't mean to sound so cavalier even though your situation is totally casual. What just left your mouth was insulting, as you know she satisfies you in a way no-one else does and you've just made her sound like just another notch in the bedpost and that you have no other use for her other than seeing to your sexual needs.
Which was the case at the beginning, but neither of you would've come back for more if it was just that.
And you go to say that.
Your lips move, lungs preparing the breath the sentence will leave with but then your brain glitches, and nothing comes out. You internally kick yourself with heavy disappointment sinking in as you just release small unintelligible sounds, and Brittany just clenches her jaw, flares her nostrils once and wets her lips as she looks away, and you hate that you're getting used to seeing that look on her face instead of the smiling one.
How did this get so sour?
"That's good to know, too," Brittany finally speaks, and her voice is strained as she's just been glaring silently for the past couple of minutes, but she clears her throat and straightens up, arms tight over her chest now. To the point where you can see the fabric of her sweatshirt stretched beneath her arms from where you think her fists are balled and pushing into her ribs and you know what that means.
She's mad.
"But for your information, Sam and I hook up at parties when we get bored so I didn't need to get laid either, and I wouldn't have been free tonight anyway even if you had text me," she continues and it's a change of topic, but also not, so you narrow your eyes.
Even if the first half of her sentence almost makes you choke.
"What?"
Brittany blinks, stares at the floor and wets her lips before staring you right in the eye to answer, the shade of blue cold and hard now. "I've got a date tonight, so even if you wanted to hook up, we couldn't have."
You didn't know that a sentence could hit you so hard.
You didn't know that the first five freaking words could suck the breath from your lungs and make your stomach drop into your asshole, but hey, here you are proving that wrong as you've just been hit by two blows.
First off, Brittany basically just told you that she has an arrangement like you one you share with this Sam jackass from school, which obviously means you're being used (even if that's what you signed up for) but secondly – and most importantly – she's even freaking dating and not just sleeping around.
You don't really get how you fit into that, should she actually get a boyfriend or girlfriend or whatever, and you want to ask but you don't feel like she'll be very forthcoming with her answers. You feel like the only reason she told you that was because you managed to get a low blow in on her, so she wanted to exact revenge and you hate that you're actually more into her now that you know she's just as cunning as you are as it makes you want to scream at her but also fuck her brains out.
And that's really fucking confusing, but it also really fucking sucks and you force yourself not to react in a way that'll communicate the truth.
You just shift your expression into the same one she had a second ago, a stern furrowed brow, heavy eyes and lips pressed into a tight line and lift a shoulder, eying her like you don't give a damn even if your body is screaming at you otherwise. You just twist your features, so it looks like you don't fucking care about her not needing or currently wanting you and it's super condescending and she notices, her lips popping open, brows raising and unexpectedly, she laughs but it's empty and bitter.
You fucking hate that sound. It doesn't suit her.
"Okay then," Brittany chirps but it's forced, and you grind your teeth. "I'll leave you your job," she nods towards the reason you came to her house in the first place and holds your eye for a long moment before turning and walking away.
You just let out a long sigh and shake your head.
You're such a dumbass.
/
When you're finished, you pack up, haul your shit around the side and through the garden gate.
You don't want to go through the house in case you run into Brittany, or Crystal offering the hot cocoa you declined earlier which will undoubtedly lead you to running into her daughter, so this is a good choice. As much as the previous conversation is running through your mind, you're also hyper aware Brittany said she was going on a date and usually, you dress up for dates and you'd rather avoid looking her all glammed up for someone else as that'll send your mind into a further spiral.
And right now? You need to be doing the opposite. You think you've already done a great job of upsetting her or whatever the hell you did that made her leave you alone.
Anyway, you open the back of your car, heaving the bag inside and start organising it neatly when you hear the sound of another car rolling up. You check the time, seeing it's only six in the evening so it's pretty early for a date but it's not your date and you usually don't even make it anywhere bar the backseat when you 'date' people, however this is Brittany and clearly she rolls differently.
When the guy inside the other car climbs out, you have to stifle a laugh as you zone in on a mullet immediately. He's tall, but that thing on top of his head is way too distracting to judge the rest of him as if he thinks that is a good call, there's no way in hell his fashion sense is up to check and that's confirmed when you see an ice hockey jersey. It's not exactly date attire, and you can see it belongs to McKinley High and he can't even be bothered to change – he looks like he came from practise – but it really isn't your problem.
Although it is making you feel miles better as you are way better looking so this is hardly proving a point.
You watch him head up the path to the house, peering at you quickly but you just stare him out until he returns his attention to the door, knocking on it. It opens only a few seconds after, revealing Brittany and you stop what you're doing in favour of taking in her outfit because God damn… She isn't dressed up, just in a nice sweater dress but she could make a trash bag look good.
"Hey, babe," you hear Brittany greet and force your gaze away, returning to the contents of the back of your car even though you definitely don't need to be here anymore. Especially as her term of endearment just made your insides twist. Why is she calling him babe when this is a first date? Oh, probably because you're listening in. "Let me just pay the pool girl and I'll be with you."
You grit your teeth at the term, knowing you're more than just the freaking pool girl. Although you suppose maybe not, as you did tell her that you didn't need her and she clearly doesn't need you, and that's probably payback on its own but you don't let it slide, instead eying her with hopes of shooting a glare but she doesn't look back. You think she wants to, but her vision remains firmly on the guy, and you tune out to whatever shit is coming out his mouth about her outfit – she tried, he clearly didn't – as you wait for her to come over, eyes moving elsewhere.
She did just say she was going to pay you.
"Santana?"
You wait a few seconds, pretending like you weren't aware she was even there and finally glance up, but then you see Crystal peer over her shoulder and wave you to come over, having been the person calling your name, much to your disappointment.
That's not what you want to do, and you were hoping Brittany would come over so you could make a snarky remark about her choice of date, but you guess going there is fine too as you can make sure she sees the judgemental sweep you're planning on doing when you're close enough. You can't be rude in front of her mom.
"Coming, Mrs Pierce," you call back and fiddle with absolutely nothing before a moment before slamming the trunk shut and heading over in a slow jog.
Your hands are stuffed in your jacket pockets, your feet decreasing in speed as and you make a point to catch Brittany's eyes and hold for a whole three seconds before dragging your attention to the guy waiting in the porch for her. He is so below her league it's amusing, and when you smell his cheap cologne, you can't control your mouth as it makes a scoffing noise that's clearly directed towards the puck head that's way too loud to go unheard.
Crystal looks concerned, the guy slowly turns like he doesn't get what you're doing – you think he might be thick – but it has the desired effect as Brittany glares straight at you. Her eyes are narrowed, lips pressed into a tight line like she's mentally telling you off for finding her voice nothing but amusing, but that just makes you want to grin. You really shouldn't, so you flex the muscles in your jaw, resisting the urge but still flashing a small smirk because really?
This freaking guy?
This is hilarious.
"Let's settle this inside and out of the cold," Crystal quickly mutters, either oblivious to the tension between you and her daughter or aware and wanting an exit.
Either way, you're okay with not allowing Brittany to scold you for the blatant disapproval as she could if you stay here any longer, so you bob your head, brush past her and into the house. She holds your eye for a long second, before she kisses her mom on the cheek, flashes you another swift glare and then retreats down the path with her date, arm hooking around his.
He doesn't even bother to open her door for her when they reach the car – like you would do – and you just shake your head as Crystal begins chattering away behind you about how much cash she has in her purse, watching as the car peels off and disappears down the street.
Brittany can do so much better than that.
/
You're halfway home when Puck calls you.
You pick up, pressing the button on the steering wheel and letting it go through the Bluetooth overhead as your dad insisted on fitting it so you wouldn't text and drive. Not that you do, as you don't have enough people to warrant risking your life to talk to, but it's better than being pulled by the cops and has come in handy the past couple weeks when Brittany called out of the blue for a hook up.
"Go for Lopez."
"That's my line," Puck whines back in lieu of a greeting and you chuckle.
"Shut up. What do you want?"
Puck laughs for a long moment and clicks his tongue. "Don't be like that. Just wanna see what my home girl is up to."
You know that's bullshit as he never calls unless he wants something. If he genuinely had no reason, he probably would've messaged you as he knew you were doing the Pierce hot tub as you tried to get him to come along and then he would've suggested doing something totally lame like waiting outside the local liquor store to see which sucker you could convince to buy you a bottle or two.
A call means he has something else prepared, which is a proven theory as he's got the same tone in his voice like he did the other week on the basketball court prior to suggesting crashing Finn Hudson's party.
So you don't even bother playing along with his silly little game. "Bullshit," you call him out, and Puck clicks his tongue down the line. "I just finished up at the Pierce's and I'm already halfway home, so you have exactly sixty seconds to tell me what you're thinking so I can debate whether or not to turn the car around."
"Shit, fine," Puck hurries back and you smirk to yourself, already turning down the next street to head towards his. "I'm just bored and found out there's this like drive-in movie marathon happening like half hour away," he explains, and you frown. That wasn't what you were expecting him to say. "Thought it might be cool."
Even though you're a little confused as his ideas are usually terrible and this one isn't half bad, you don't have any plans and you do like movies. Still, you're gonna have to tease him as he made this molehill into a mountain and you're still kind of suspicious but whatever.
"Aww, you asking me out on a date Puckerman?" You fire back with a grin and Puck laughs it off, clicking his tongue for like the third time in under two minutes.
"Shut up. Your dick is bigger than mine, dude."
You laugh louder this time, rolling your eyes. He only knows that as when you revealed your secret to him, you had a literal dick measuring contest using soda cans and other phallic shaped objects to show size and you won that hands down.
"True story," you reply and bob your head proudly to yourself. "What they showing?"
"Dunno. Think it's a horror movie marathon but that's why I wanna hit it up," he explains, and your brain clicks on. You fucking knew there was something else to this plan. "Fat chicks love going to that kind of shit with their friends and they're easy pickings when they're scared and vulnerable.. I like meat on my bones and tonight, I'm feeling carnivorous."
"God, you're disgusting," you hiss back, a cold creeping down your spine.
You like curves on a girl, not being a totally shallow asshole, but he's got some weird fucking kink about fatties and describes it to you in fine detail. Apparently fatties come in two forms; eager to please or really fucking mean, and both of them turn him on like a light switch. Especially when they bring momma's homemade chicken pie into the bedroom to utilise (somehow) and ever since you heard that one specific story about it, every occasion he tells you he's chasing some really slow-moving tail, you think back to that.
Hence the current disgust.
"Yeah, yeah," he says, and you know he's waving you off. "Come pick me up and we can head out."
Seeing as you were already heading in the direction of his house, you're only a few seconds away so you just tell him to grab his shit now because you're not waiting more than two minutes.
/
The movie marathon is two hours in, which means one film down and another dozen to go.
The tickets are half price by the time you get there, so you roll up, hand over some dollar bills and ignore the way Puck bats his lashes at you, being a total freaking girl and repeating your earlier words about it being a date. It's not as funny as when you said it, but you still laugh and punch him in the arm as you follow the attendants directions until you're parked up in a row at the very back, groaning as there are like, a hundred cars in front of you and the screen is big but not that big.
This is still Ohio.
Although you are close to the snack carts, so it's not that bad.
Anyway, one of the many versions of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre is playing, so you kick your feet up on the dash, fold your arms over your chest and roll the windows down as Puck begins chain smoking and actually get your monies worth by paying attention, but unsurprisingly, he has other ideas. It takes a whole eleven minutes to actually be verbalised, even if by the fifth he's vibrating in his seat and fidgeting like crazy, and you roll your eyes when he finishes up the pack which was half full as that's seriously unhealthy and turns to speak.
"I'm bored, gonna go hunting for some meat," he smirks, and you wrinkle your nose up at him. "Be back later, Lopez."
You flip him the finger as he clambers out the car, choosing to swing out of the window instead of using the damn door but you guess it's for attention. Which works, as you hear some female cheering as he straightens up, slicking back his mohawk to spot his viewers and throws you a lewd grin before darting off to find his victims.
For a second… For a whole second you watch him go and debate following him, but you're just not feeling like your usual self. After talking to Brittany earlier, you're kind of annoyed and wanting to text her to make sure she's alright as that guy was creepy as hell, but that's not your business.
It's not your position to do something as you're not friends, you're fuck buddies, and you shouldn't even be thinking about it so you shake off your thoughts, muttering Spanish expletives beneath your breath as you pry open the door and spy the snack carts, needing to distract your brain.
You could do with some popcorn.
/
The movie finishes and there's a swift interlude where the screen flicks on and plays trailers of upcoming features, and you sit back and push your bucket of popcorn into the passenger seat, spying people weaving through the cars to get to the portable restrooms in the back. You saw them when you first came in, and you do need to pee, but you'd rather avoid standing in a long line, so you wait it out for fifteen minutes, watching the crowds return to their cars as the big screen begins playing the intro to the new film and then you move.
Puck still isn't back, and you're not exactly worried about him finding to an empty car should he return whilst you're gone as silence from him is usually a clear sign of what he's doing, so you climb out the car and head towards the bathrooms, doing your business and resisting the urge to retch at the stench at the same time. The cool night air can't come quick enough, so you hurry out, using half the bottle of sanitiser pinned to one of the stalls and head back to the field, stopping to look at the snack carts again.
You can see why Puck likes to use this place as hunting grounds, as it's full of dark corners and fast food and shadowed cars filled with defenceless, single gals, but you'd probably bring a date here as there's a lot of steamy cars too, and you think about Brittany for a whole second before realising you can't and redirect your attention to the candy floss stall. You're a big kid in a lot of ways, and thanks to no-one even making eye contact with you thanks to your intimidating aura, you beam a grin as you go get yourself one.
It's kind of like you're on a date with yourself and you won't lie, despite being hugely sad, you're cool with it. You're enjoying yourself.
Or rather that's what you think until you're making your way back to your car and happen to look over in the direction of the restrooms, just in time to find someone you weren't expecting to see.
All the blood drains from your face, your mouth no longer enjoying the sweet treat you were just scoffing down because naturally, it couldn't be a total stranger that you don't recognise. Naturally, you've got to know this specific person and be in this specific spot looking at that specific direction as she leaves the specific port-a-potty that's in your line of sight, because of all freaking people, it's Brittany.
She's here, which means this is where she came for her freaking date, and you don't know if you want to laugh or cry.
Surely you don't deserve that much karmic retribution. Surely you haven't done something that shitty that you deserved to wind up in the only place you could possibly run into Brittany, and see her on a date, slobbering over someone who's way below her league. Surely not, you think, but that's quickly corrected when as if she sensed your presence, blue eyes snap over towards your direction, doing a quick double take before settling, mouth dropping open and you know her well enough to know if you were close, she'd be gasping.
She looks shocked as shit to see you, too, and you don't know if that's a good thing.
It's obvious she doesn't either, as she just stopped in between a line of cars, and you're on the other side but in the same row as her and you're both just staring. You should probably get back to the car, and she's too far away to catch up with you but still, you feel like this has to mean something. You're sure there's a higher power at work here to bring you to the same place, to see each other right now, but the thing you're not sure of is why or what that is.
Whether it's for good or bad, and she's in the same mindset by the looks of things as she gnaws down on her bottom lip, swallowing thickly and for the second time, you freeze as you're not sure why. You're not sure if there's hesitancy over the decision of coming over to you or getting back to what she was doing with her freaking date, and to be honest, you don't want to find out if that's even a consideration.
It shouldn't matter that you've run into each other. You're here with Puck and she's here with her date.
So when Brittany's vision finally tears away from you, and towards the direction you assume her dates car is in to continue down that assumed train of thought, you duck out to the left, pressing your back against the car and into a half crouch, breathing so much harder than you were before. You hide, immediately feeling entirely lame as the next time you see each other, that'll definitely come up but that's a future Santana issue, so she can deal with it.
You wait a few seconds out of sight, craning your neck up to spy through the window of the car you're next to and freeze when you see Brittany still there, but looking confused this time. At least she didn't see you go as that would've made this even worse, and you just hold your breath, waiting and watching as she swallows, looks down to the ground and shakes her head before wandering off in the opposite direction.
That's when you move, ignoring the sinking disappointment in your chest and let out a long huff before clambering back to your feet and back to your car, tossing the cotton candy into a nearby trashcan on the way.
You lost your appetite.
/
Puck comes back to the car halfway through the third movie.
He's got dark patches in a line up and down his neck, and you wrinkle your face up when he slides back in through the window as apparently he did find some hungry girls, you were just expecting it to be in a different way. Still, he sees your expression and instead waggles his eyebrows, reaching over to press his pointer finger to the tip of your nose but you lean out the way, now entirely disgusted.
"Don't touch me with those things," you say, swatting his hand out the way but he just chortles and leans back, amused as anything. "I don't know where they've been."
Puck grins and you instantly regret your words. "Two chicks. Best friends. Apparently were having a girl's night but I sawed through them like the shark I am," he corrects smugly, and you twist your face up even further as your stomach turns. "Gonna go back for more but just wanted to check in on my homegirl."
You roll your eyes and watch as he picks up your discarded popcorn bucket, shovelling a handful in his mouth before slurping at your soda. You weren't lying, since seeing Brittany you've completely lost all the enjoyment of tonight and that kind of sucks, but you still punch him in the top of the thigh and eye your snacks, silently conveying he doesn't finish them as you didn't exactly buy them for him.
"What?" He muffles, a couple kernels of popcorn spluttering from between his lips. "I gotta eat after sex, too," he shrugs, and you scoff. That's not what you meant nor what you care about. "Gotta get my strength back for round two," he announces proudly but quickly stops, head cocking to the side. "Or like six, but round two of seeing them," he unnecessarily explains and whereas you usually enjoy hearing about his conquests – just with minimal detail that he always gives anyway – you aren't feeling it.
If it wasn't for him wanting to go back for more, you would've already suggested going home. The image of Brittany staring at you from across the cars is burned into the back of your eyelids and it won't fucking go away. It's completely killed your vibe tonight, ruining the date with yourself and now all you can think about is what car that douchebag had when he rolled up outside Brittany's house and how easy it would be to find it in the low glow of the big screen.
Something that you're not supposed to be thinking about, and because you get mad at yourself for even creeping into that mine field of thoughts, you get your back up and throw an attitude towards him, completely unlike the normal one you have when discussing such topics.
"You're disgusting."
"You're being a fun sponge," he fires back without a beat and sips at your soda, smacking his lips together as he swallows. "Come with me and we can see if they have any more friends."
You shake your head instantly and turn your attention back to the big screen, arms folding over your chest. There's literally nothing you'd rather do less than go creep on some innocent victims to get off. You think this may be the furthest you've ever been away from being in that kind of mood and you're really trying not to hover over it too much to figure out.
There's a part of you that already knows.
"Not feeling it," you grunt, and Puck finally catches on to the complete lack of excitement finally and sets the soda and popcorn bucket back down, his eyes scanning all over you.
"What's wrong with you?"
You roll your eyes instead of answering as whenever you're in a mood, he never seems to care but tonight? Sure. "Like you give a damn," you wave him off. "Just go away and leave me to watch the rest of the movie."
Puck's kind of dumb, or just ignorant and you don't do the emotional talking shit with him anyway, so he doesn't press. That's mostly reserved for Mercedes, and only mostly because you don't really have emotions so there isn't much to talk about but when an occasion pops up that makes you human for more than three seconds, she's the one you go to, and she isn't here right now so you just need to lock it up and keep it inside.
Or else you'll be out hunting for something that he definitely isn't.
"Whatever," he sighs and doesn't even bother trying to fight as he leans out the window, hands pressed to the roof and swings back out of it, only pausing to bend back down and lean back through to look at you again. "Text me if you change your mind."
You press your lips together, clench your jaw but give him a nod and then he's gone.
/
Two whole minutes later, you damn near jump out your skin when there's a tapping on the window.
In that two seconds you get to calm yourself down before you find out who's going to get their ass kicked for scaring the crap out of you, you panic. Thoughts of blonde hair and blue eyes appearing outside your window, like they did a couple months back in the parking lot of your school after Summer, flash in front of your eyes and you almost flick the ignition on and get the fuck out of there without checking, but then the door is swinging open and Puck's back again.
But why?
And why is he using the door this time?
"Dude," he breathes, and your attention snaps to him, feet dropping down from the dashboard as you take in his appearance. When he left, he had a snack, a break, pretended to give a shit about you so he was good to go on the sex front all over again, but now he just looks… Concerned? And why isn't he sawing through some more innocent girls? "Dude, Brittany's here."
Something beneath your skin spikes and a chill creeps down your spine. Yup, you know. You just hoped he didn't, but he does now and so in case he's immediately assuming you were in a shitty mood because you already know that, you just raise an eyebrow and do a little pretending of your own. As if you don't care because… Well, why would you?
"And?"
Puck clicks his tongue and slides into the passenger seat, but he's grabbing the door like he's ready to get straight back out again. "Drop the bullshit, Lopez," he grunts, and you jerk your head back. Is he calling you out? The fucking audacity. "She's here with fucking Rick Nelson."
You have no idea who that is, although your mind is putting together the name to the face and yeah, he definitely looks like a Rick Nelson with that fucking mullet, but you're guessing it's significant as now you're picking up on how shifty Puck is. He still looks like he's a breath away from getting back out the car and you can't see the devious eagerness in his eyes that was there before which means it's not to go find those girls from earlier, so it makes you take him slightly more seriously and shake your head but lift your shoulders and await a further explanation.
"Am I supposed to know who that is?"
"Fucking Roofie Rick," he spits, his eyes turning dark, and you can see he's worked up which confuses you, until you think about the few conversations you've had with him in the past about this McKinley douchebag that liked to have his way with girls a very unconventional and creepy ways, and you put two and two together, straightening up in your seat and matching his glare, all muscles tensing inside your body.
"What?" You gasp, even though you don't really need an explanation.
"It's the asshole that roofies girls on first dates and shit," he spits out but you're already thinking about how this Rick guy is with Brittany, which can only mean that's his next target and you heat up all over, blood surging through your veins as you push at his shoulder. Your brain clouds over, dizzying momentarily but now isn't the time for that as you need to fucking move, and you need to find Brittany.
Now.
"Get the fuck out the way," you spit, and he does so, backing away until you're stood next to him outside, whipping your head from left to right. "Where did you see them?"
Puck's already there with you, pissed as hell and ready to throw hands and your chest rises with affection as he's not even teasing you right now. He seemed like he didn't give a shit earlier, but you guess he does and if it wasn't for you panicking and desperately searching for the memory of what car Rick had when he pulled up outside Brittany's, you'd thank him for that, but it can't wait for another time.
"Over there," he juts his chin towards the southern area of the parking lot, and you don't even hesitate before bolting in that direction with him hot on your heels.
You need to find Brittany.
/
There's a lot of yelling and swearing as you clamber over cars, doing some ninja shit like sliding across bonnets and ignoring people protesting as yeah, it's kind of a dick move – you'd pop some balls if anyone did that to your car – but you don't care.
All you care about is finding Brittany, because she's unknowingly gone on a date with some asshole who likes to drug his dates drinks, and this is the perfect place to not only do that but also get away with doing whatever else he wants to freaking do with her once she's out of it. That's not something you want to even think about or consider could happen and you use all the fury burning inside your body to propel your legs faster, make your vision search the darkened cars quicker.
You just need to find her. You need to make sure she's safe.
"Lopez!"
Your head snaps around, eyes landing on Puck two cars away from you waving you over with a hand high in the air and your heart leaps inside your chest as you race over to him, shoving someone out the way. The heels of your boots dig into the mud as you skid, hand shooting out to grasp the top of a random car and Puck grabs your shoulder, but he doesn't have a hopeful glint in his eye, so you know he didn't call you over because he found them.
"He was over here somewhere," he tells you and you nod, sternly. "You go down that row," he points to the furthest away car. "I'll go down this one, and we'll find them faster."
You swallow thickly, observing his plan and not finding any faults, the faster the better in your opinion, and he clenches his jaw before darting off and you do the same. You bend your back, keeping low and peering in through the windows of cars, seeing many confused faces but they're not the ones you're looking for, so you carry on, heading towards the trees surrounding the field and you're almost completely hopeless, until you see a car that catches your attention.
During the time you were sat in your own car, pretending to watch the movies, you were trying to picture Rick's ride but to no avail. You couldn't even remember the colour of the damn thing because you were solely focused on judging the hell out of his attire and freaking mullet and it was grating on you, but thankfully, that's now corrected. Because seeing the car has made the memory a lot clearer and your breath lodges in your throat as you spy it tucked away in the corner, a little further away than the rest and even without remembering fully, you know that's the one.
The windows are steamed, and piping hot jealousy spirals through your body, making your face wince and lungs stutter the next breath, but you push through it and head towards it with heavy footsteps. Your chest is rising and falling rapidly, every muscle tensing hard to the point of aching, and you're not even thinking anything coherent, or that you probably should be calling Puck over to back you just in case this gets messy, because you can handle yourself and you have to know if Brittany's in there.
No, scratch that, you have to know she's safe. You just need to see Brittany's face, to make sure she's okay and that hopefully, the steamed windows are because of consensual actions. Even if that thought makes your stomach twist too, but it'd just be a hell of a lot better than the thoughts running through your mind currently and that's what gives you the courage to do what needs to be done as you reach the car, take in a deep breath and reach for the door handle, ignoring the slight shake of the car as you yank it open.
Your heart is thumping against your chest, pulse pounding your ears and increasing tenfold when your eyes land on the occupants of the car because you were right, this is Rick's car, and half of you wishes you weren't right when you take in the sight before you. Because Rick's on top of Brittany, and she's wearing just her underwear now, dressed bunched up in the footwell, and he has his pants down by his feet, but thankfully his boxers are still on but that's not what you focus on.
Instead, you focus on the blonde beneath him, her head lolling to the side, eyes drooping heavily and a rage you've never felt before thrashes through your veins. Red flashes in front of your eyes, and you don't even meet Rick's glare as he whips his head around to find out who just crashed his perverted party, instead locking your vision on to his feet as you wrap your hands around his ankles and just like you did with the car door, you yank as hard as possible with a strength you didn't know you had.
Although you suppose adrenaline is a lot to thank for that, and you're super fucking grateful as you stumble backward, pulling him hard as he falls out of the car, knocking his head on the step up into the back seat before landing heavily in the mud, face first.
Which, you would laugh at, but you need to check in on Brittany as that's priority and you clamber over Rick as he groans, curling up to climb inside the back, hands shooting out to grab at her limp body.
"Britt," leaves your mouth breathlessly, and cold fear trickles through your veins now, making you simmer down as you take her in, and you know instantly she's already been drugged. Her eyes are rolling into the back of her head, her fingers unable to clutch back at you and your teeth begin aching as you clamp down, lips curling up because Rick is to blame for this, and you don't think you've ever been so angry before.
Brittany's completely fucking unaware you're even here, or what that asshole was about to do to her, and you do a quick visual sweep down her body to double check her panties are still on – which they are – and breathe out a sigh of relief. At least he didn't get that far, and you slide your hands beneath her body, twisting and manoeuvring back out the car until she's in your arms, barely clutching on to and you're carrying her fireman style.
"What the fuck are you doing?" You hear as you turn around to find Rick struggling to get to his feet, pulling up his pants and zipping them back up but looking at you with mud all over his bare torso and anger in his eyes.
And you're about to throw back at him something witty, insulting and aggressive as hell – you can't hit him like you want to as you have Brittany in your arms – but then that moment falls to the wayside as Puck appears out of nowhere, coming in from the left fist first.
It hurtles towards Rick face, connecting with his jaw, and one second you're growling at the guy and then he's out cold on the floor, with your friend tripping over his body as he attempts to catch his balance – which is successful – and he spins around, panting heavily and looking super fucking smug that he got a punch in whilst shaking his hand out as that kind of force could've broken a bone.
You think he's wanted to do that for a while.
"Asshole," Puck grits out, then literally spits on Rick as he twitches on the floor, matching the girl in your arms as his eyes roll into the back of his head and all you can do is smirk, pushing away the urge to hand over Brittany to your friend to get in a few kicks to the head, but you've got bigger things to handle right now.
"Let's go," you demand, and Puck's eyes snap to you, his eyes firm but you just stare. You're fucking serious, you need to either go to hospital or at least take Brittany home and look after her and that need is currently overriding the one to give Rick a rectal exam he'll never recover from.
Still, it seems he has other ideas, and he clenches his jaw, snarls down at Rick who's regaining consciousness and he shakes his head. "Get her back to the car," he tells you and your mouth opens to protest but then Puck sees Rick stretch his hand out and stomps down on the back of his hand heavily, digging his heel into the guy's knuckles until there's a pained whimper flowing through your ears. "I just need one more minute."
You want more than a minute with him, and you'd rather see to Brittany being safe, but you understand that Puck has to leave a lasting impression on that asshole to make sure he never does this again to anyone else and doesn't ever go near Brittany ever again. So you allow it, adjusting her body in your arms – the adrenaline is wearing off now and she's getting heavier – and give him a stern nod before spinning around and making your way back toward your car, eyes roaming around Brittany's face the whole time to check in on her.
The last thing you hear from behind you is the sound of glass breaking as Puck smashes in the windscreen of Rick's car.
/