Title: The World is a Stage 21/?
Pairing: Brittany/Santana, Brittany/OC
Rating: 15 - R
Word Count: 2100
Disclaimer: Glee is copyrighted and belongs to Ryan Murphy and Fox. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Use of other personalities is not a reflection of their real lives and is completely fictional.
Summary: Sort of AU/Future fic, the lives of Santana and Brittany in their early twenties.
Spoilers: References to Seasons 1 and 2.
The room was cool, the hum of the air conditioning filled the silence in the morning hours. The sun had just about risen over the horizon, peeking gently through the gap of the haphazardly closed light curtains. The door opened quietly, soft, bare feet hesitantly stepped into the room and gently padded across the plush carpet and over to the huge bed against the far wall. Upon seeing the beauty sleeping soundly, the intruder placed a knee onto the mattress and carefully crawled up and onto the bed. She slinked under the sheet and cosied up to the warm body in the bed, snaking an arm over the waist and nestling her head into her companion’s neck. She relaxed with a content sigh, the other woman stirring slightly upon the contact. The blonde lifted her head slightly and placed a sweet kiss on the lips of the stirring brunette, eliciting a warm smile and gentle stretch. Santana, in her sleepy haze hummed with satisfaction. Opening her eyes she beamed upon seeing the other girl in her bed, she pulled her closer into a cuddle and squeezed gently.
“Hey.” The Latina welcomed with a yawn.
“Hey.” Brittany replied with a sweet smile.
“How are you feeling?”
“Better every day.” The blonde answered, earning a chaste kiss on the lips from her girlfriend.
“I like the sound of that. Soon you’ll be back to regular physical activities.” Santana said with a wink. Brittany laughed in response.
“It will be worth the wait.” Brittany offered.
“You know I can’t lie to you Santana.” The blonde said with an honest smile.
“I know.” Santana said, she raised her palm and placed it against Brittany’s cheek, her brown eyes seeking the love and warmth radiating from the crystal blue ones before her.
“We can totally make out though.” The blonde grinned. And without another word, Santana closed the gap and latched her lips onto Brittany’s. The blonde moaned at the contact, she had always loved the soft, cushioned feel of Santana’s lips upon her own. She chose to savour the sensation and slowly, sweetly kissed the love of her life. She had promised never to take another kiss from Santana for granted, five years without was like a lifetime of agony. Santana could stand it no longer, she ran her tongue along the blonde’s lips and carefully prized them open. Brittany adored tender, loving Santana, she knew the Latina only ever showed this side of herself to the dancer, however during their hiatus she had often wondered if the brunette had been like this with anyone else. Santana reminded her exactly what she had missed and launched a dual, their tongues battling and massaging one another. Brittany’s hand retreated from the brunette’s hip and landed on her taut stomach, the t-shirt Santana wore to sleep in had ridden up, exposing her tan skin. Brittany gently brushed her fingernails over the skin beneath her fingers. Santana groaned at the feelings it stirred within her. The blonde smiled into the kiss, encouraged to tease her mate further. Brittany’s fingers trailed agonisingly slowly up the Latina’s torso, all the while her tongue focussed on pleasuring Santana’s mouth. There were many things Brittany didn’t think she was good at, but multi-tasking she was a genius, especially in situations like these. Santana could feel her heart beating rapidly in her chest, being this close to Brittany again was almost dreamlike, she had never thought she would feel the blonde’s hands on her like this again. Her brain was threatening to give up, she felt like she could pass out from the overwhelming sensations she was enduring. She whimpered suddenly, her eyes scrunched tighter, and she reluctantly broke contact with Brittany’s lips as the blonde was freely groping and massaging her breast, occasionally toying with her nipple. Finding it increasingly difficult to breath, Santana felt hot breath across her ear, followed by a husky whisper.
“You’re so hot.” It was enough to melt the brunette, she could barely take it any longer, Santana squirmed under the blonde’s touch, she wanted more. The Latina grabbed a hold of the blonde’s nightshirt and pulled her closer. The blonde yelped as she landed on top of the brunette. Panic set in, Santana’s eyes shot open and were met with watery blue orbs.
“Oh shit.” Exclaimed Santana, realisation hit her like a freight train, she suddenly sobered up, guilt plastered across her face. “I’m so sorry Brit, you ok?” she reached her hand up and cupped the blonde’s cheek, willing the tears away from her eyes.
“Yeah.” Brittany squeaked, attempting to smile. “I’m fine.”
“You’re right, you’re a lousy liar.” Santana smiled sadly. She gently rolled Brittany on to her back. “Can I look?” she asked tentatively. Brittany nodded in agreement. Santana sat on her knees and took the fabric between her fingers, she gently peeled the material back, moving it slowly up the blonde’s torso. Her gaze was focused, hoping she hadn’t caused her girlfriend any further damage. She smirked as her eyes lay upon the girl’s underwear, bright colours painting a rainbow on her girl boxers. The Latina refocused on the job at hand. She let out a huge sigh of relief when she saw Brittany’s wound hadn’t worsened. The stitches were still present, an angry red looking scar was staring back at her. She had been assured by a visiting doctor only yesterday that the wound was healing well and Brittany would have her stitches removed in a matter of days. Santana traced her fingers cautiously around the wound. “It looks ok.” She whispered, her eyes never wavering from the injury.
“What is it?” Brittany asked, her eyes had been trained on Santana’s face the entire time, watching the emotions pass over her face. Santana stilled her hand. Brittany placed fingers beneath the Latina’s chin and gently pulled it upwards until she could see the chocolaty brown eyes she adored. “Why are you sad?” she asked sweetly. Santana briefly looked to the ceiling, willing the tears in her eyes to disappear, when one escaped she looked down to the blonde, her brows knitted together and she bit on her lip as she tried to formulate the words. She took in a breath as she prepared to speak.
“This nearly killed you.” Santana said quietly. Brittany shook her head. “It did, your heart stopped beating.”
“Don’t.” Brittany said, “Don’t say those things.” Tears began to form in her own eyes. “I’m here, I’m ok.”
“But . . .” Santana began. Brittany hushed her with a finger over her lips.
“No buts, no what ifs. I’m here, with you. I love you.” Brittany said. A smile tugged at the corner of Santana’s lips.
“I love you too.” The brunette offered, “So much.”
“Come here.” Brittany said, grabbing a fistful of Santana’s t-shirt and guiding her down for a kiss.
“Careful.” Santana mumbled against the dancer’s lips.
“Just shut up and kiss me.” Santana didn’t have to be told twice and indulged the blonde in a sensual oral battle.
Santana breezed into the kitchen, all smiles and giggles. Quinn glanced up from her laptop and frowned, it was not something the blonde had yet become accustomed with the brunette. Following closely behind Santana was Brittany, although the dancer had insisted they slept in separate beds, she had become the Latina’s wakeup call and who was Quinn to argue? This was the complete opposite to the Santana she used to meet in the mornings. The blonde assistant raised an eyebrow to the humming Latina as she sauntered towards her.
“What?” Santana asked. When she received no reply, she tried again, “What?” Brittany breezed past Santana, placing a kiss on her cheek as she went and plonked herself down next to Quinn, picking up the toast from her plate.
“Hey!” exclaimed Quinn.
“You snooze, you lose Quinny.” Brittany said cheerfully munching on the toast. “Mmm chocolate spread.” The blonde hummed. Quinn watched in disgust as Brittany visibly enjoyed her very own breakfast.
“You’ve got a little . . .” Quinn said, pointing and waving her finger at the dancer’s face. The blonde drew a blank expression, her eyes following the movement of Quinn’s hand until Santana swooped in and sucked on her bottom lip. The surprise attack had Brittany squeal, it quickly turned into a satisfied moan as Santana probed her mouth with her soft velvety tongue. The brunette abruptly pulled away, just as the blonde was beginning to enjoy the contact, she was left stunned and glassy eyed.
“Mmm chocolate spread.” Santana mimicked, sending a wink in Quinn’s direction.
“Must you do that at the breakfast table? Suddenly I’m not hungry anymore.” She pushed her plate away, much to Brittany’s delight.
“Oh come on Q, I had to endure your lovey dovey phase with Puck.” Santana shot back with a glare.
“Somehow I get the feeling that this one isn’t going to end.” She sighed. Brittany squealed in response and jumped up, wrapping her arms tightly around Santana, she was hopeful this phase wouldn’t end either, that this time it was forever and to hear someone else say it was like music to her ears. Santana stood motionless, her arms tied to her sides by a very clingy Brittany. When the tall blonde finally realised the Latina required some breathing space she relaxed her grip, Santana breathed out a huge sigh of relief, snaked her arms around Brittany’s waist and tucked her head under the dancer’s chin.
“I hope not.” The brunette finally replied, “She’s like my air.”
“Seriously? Santana, stop it. This isn’t you, can you please put your bitch face back on and we can get back to work?” the actress scowled at her friend. Quinn smirked with satisfaction, there was the face she knew and loved.
“Ok, alright, I get it.” Santana said pulling away. “Brit, why don’t you go watch some TV, I got some stuff to work out with Quinn before I go to the set.”
“I’m coming with you today right? I can still come with you?” Brittany said in a small panic.
“Of course.” Santana smiled, “But no dancing, just sitting. If you can manage that.” She knew how fidgety Brittany could be and as the week had gone and the blonde was getting better, it was becoming more and more stressful for Santana to cope with, patience was not her forte.
“I promise.” Brittany offered with a sweet smile before leaving Santana alone with Quinn.
The brunette sat in the spot vacated by her girlfriend.
“So are you going to tell me what this is all about?” Santana asked suspiciously.
“San, you told me a week ago that Bryan threatened you. A few days ago you received a silent phone call then yesterday your trailer was turned over, yet you’re not doing anything about it.”
“Nothing’s really happened.” Santana shrugged.
“Have you told Brittany?” Quinn asked, her arms folded over her chest.
“Nothing to tell.” She answered stiffly. “I swear Quinn . . .”
“I won’t tell her,” the blonde reassured, “it’s not my place. But I am concerned for your safety.”
“Q, if anything else happens I’ll do something about it I promise.” Santana offered. “He’s weak Q, what can he do, really? He has no idea what he’s doing, even if it’s him.” Quinn sighed. “Listen Quinn, if he really did want to hurt me, he would have done it by now. Besides, after what he’s done already, he’d be stupid to try anything.”
“I hope you’re right Santana.” Quinn sighed, “You and Brittany have been through too much already.”
“Arh Quinn, anyone would think you cared.” Santana sang.
“You know I do. I don’t ever want to have to put with your shit again after Brittany left.” Quinn paused. “And when she came back.”
“Oh I see, selfish motives.” Santana nodded.
“Totally.” Quinn replied with a warm smile. They both knew better, Quinn had taken on the best friend mantel after Brittany had left and had helped Santana through many a dark day. So much was left unsaid between them, yet they both knew exactly how the other felt, and for one to be without the other was simply unfathomable. It was how they rolled.
To be continued . . .