Fic: Z-Day - Chapter 7: Trampoline Sex
Title: Z-Day (Chapter 7: Trampoline Sex)
Pairing: Santana Lopez/Brittany Pierce
Rating: R
Summary: Santana and Brittany face the unthinkable -- and the inevitable -- in post-apocalyptic Zombieland.
Word Count: ~1200
Disclaimer: Still don't own Zombieland or Glee.
I tore my eyes away from the bite. “What?”
“I never liked winter. You can’t do all the fun summer things when it’s snowing outside.”
I traced her jawline. “Like what?”
“Like pool parties and beach volleyball and zip-lining and trampoline sex.”
I exhaled what could have been a laugh if I’d given it a chance. If the world weren’t fucking ending right in front of me. “I love you,” I said.
*
“Do you wanna make out?”
“Britt, there are too many people here.”
“Oh.” There was a brief pause as she looked down through the water, then back up at me. “Do you wanna go upstairs and make out?”
I laughed. “You’re adorable,” I whispered.
She grinned and ran her fingers through my hair.
“Britt…”
“I’m just playing with your hair,” she said. She was close enough for me to smell the alcohol on her breath. “It’s soft like Charity.”
I smiled. “You’re getting chlorine in it.”
“We are in a pool,” she said, in that and-people-think-I’m-the-dumb-one? tone.
I couldn’t stop staring at her crystal blue eyes. I bit my lip, starting to rethink my too-many-people rule, as she dragged her fingernails gently across my scalp. I shivered despite the heated water.
“Everybody’s drunk,” she whispered in my ear, causing my eyes to fall shut. The statement was reinforced by a burly linebacker cannonballing into the deep end of Puck’s pool amidst raucous cheers from wasted footballers. Puck’s end-of-the-summer kegger was always well-populated, crazy fun, and highly regretted the next morning. “And we’re drunk. No one will care. They’ll think it’s hot. And they’ll forget tomorrow morning.”
“I don’t think…” I trailed off in a sigh when Britt nipped my earlobe. She smiled against my neck and kissed her way down my jaw, hovering right in front of my lips.
“You don’t have to,” she said.
“What?”
“Think. You don’t have to think.”
I couldn’t stand having her that close, unmoving. I leaned forward and captured her lips in mine, biting her bottom lip. She whimpered and traced her fingers down my stomach. I moaned a little into her mouth, but was suddenly brought back to reality by renewed cheering. I pulled away to see an increasing amount of the partygoers turning to see what the fuss was about.
Puck swaggered over and dropped into the water next to us. “You girls need a hand?”
“Does it look like we need a hand?” I snapped back, intentionally slurring more than normal to make it abundantly clear how wasted I was (no one needed to know I was operating on only a couple beers).
He grinned obnoxiously. “Looks like you’re about to get one.”
“Fuck off, Puckerman.”
“Mm, yeah, keep it coming.”
Britt giggled. At my questioning and still-irritated look, she said, “What? He said coming.”
I rolled my eyes. “You two are about as mature as a pair of prepubescent boys.”
“Pre… what?”
“Never mind, B.”
An empty beer can bounced off Puck’s head. “What the fuck, dude!” he shouted.
Karofsky, looking like an angry bear, stood at the edge of the pool. “Puckerman, seriously? What the hell? They were giving us a show until you jumped in!”
“They want a show?” Britt murmured to me.
“What? B, no. Don’t even think about it.”
Ever the performer, Britt grinned. “Think about it,” she whispered. “A bunch of people watching… that’s kind of a turn on.”
“No.”
“Fine. Can we at least…?”
“Okay.”
The benefit of being best friends with someone for twelve years was the mind reading that came along with it. I grabbed Brittany’s hand and pulled her up the steps out of the pool, to much groaning and complaining from the boys. I could practically feel Brittany smiling; unable to resist, she rested a hand on my ass as we walked out of the garden toward the street where my car was parked.
We’d barely made it past the fence when she whirled me around and started kissing me again. She nipped my neck and I groaned.
“Babe-not here-“ I managed.
“Nobody’s watching,” she murmured against my skin.
“Home-“
We didn’t make it all the way home. We barely made it two blocks and I had to stop the car.
That night, tangled in her limbs on the trampoline in the backyard after we finally did make it back to her house, outside because we were afraid to open any doors or windows until we were sober, I told her I loved her. I knew she knew, but I’d never actually said it before. It freaked the fuck out of me. I wanted to swallow the words as soon as they’d left my mouth, but by then it was too late, and I just laid there terrified, hoping maybe it had been quiet enough that she hadn’t heard. My ears were pounding so loud I wasn’t sure I’d even heard myself, and I began to think maybe I hadn’t said anything at all, and just when my heart started to slow down a little, the corners of her lips curled up in a little smile. She traced a pattern carefully on my bare shoulder. Punctuating it with a gentle scratch of her fingernail, she looked up at me through her eyelashes. I held my breath and my heart went wild again. What did a heart attack feel like? Was I about to die? Confess love, then die. Great. Perfect. If this was how “I love you’s” went down I was never doing it again. Assuming I lived long enough to get the opportunity.
“You’re turning red,” she said.
I remembered to breathe again when she kissed me softly.
*
“I love you, too,” she replied immediately.
I pulled my lower lip between my teeth. “Remember the first time I said that to you?”
She nodded. “Of course. On the trampoline after Puck’s party.” There was a dull flicker of in her eyes at the mention of his name.
“You didn’t say it back,” I said.
She smiled, and I couldn’t help but smile a little, too.
“That was the scariest thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Her smile turned bitter as she eyed the bite on her arm. “Until now.”
I almost agreed. “No,” I said, pushing her wrist down. “Even now.”
Pairing: Santana Lopez/Brittany Pierce
Rating: R
Summary: Santana and Brittany face the unthinkable -- and the inevitable -- in post-apocalyptic Zombieland.
Word Count: ~1200
Disclaimer: Still don't own Zombieland or Glee.
I tore my eyes away from the bite. “What?”
“I never liked winter. You can’t do all the fun summer things when it’s snowing outside.”
I traced her jawline. “Like what?”
“Like pool parties and beach volleyball and zip-lining and trampoline sex.”
I exhaled what could have been a laugh if I’d given it a chance. If the world weren’t fucking ending right in front of me. “I love you,” I said.
*
“Do you wanna make out?”
“Britt, there are too many people here.”
“Oh.” There was a brief pause as she looked down through the water, then back up at me. “Do you wanna go upstairs and make out?”
I laughed. “You’re adorable,” I whispered.
She grinned and ran her fingers through my hair.
“Britt…”
“I’m just playing with your hair,” she said. She was close enough for me to smell the alcohol on her breath. “It’s soft like Charity.”
I smiled. “You’re getting chlorine in it.”
“We are in a pool,” she said, in that and-people-think-I’m-the-dumb-one? tone.
I couldn’t stop staring at her crystal blue eyes. I bit my lip, starting to rethink my too-many-people rule, as she dragged her fingernails gently across my scalp. I shivered despite the heated water.
“Everybody’s drunk,” she whispered in my ear, causing my eyes to fall shut. The statement was reinforced by a burly linebacker cannonballing into the deep end of Puck’s pool amidst raucous cheers from wasted footballers. Puck’s end-of-the-summer kegger was always well-populated, crazy fun, and highly regretted the next morning. “And we’re drunk. No one will care. They’ll think it’s hot. And they’ll forget tomorrow morning.”
“I don’t think…” I trailed off in a sigh when Britt nipped my earlobe. She smiled against my neck and kissed her way down my jaw, hovering right in front of my lips.
“You don’t have to,” she said.
“What?”
“Think. You don’t have to think.”
I couldn’t stand having her that close, unmoving. I leaned forward and captured her lips in mine, biting her bottom lip. She whimpered and traced her fingers down my stomach. I moaned a little into her mouth, but was suddenly brought back to reality by renewed cheering. I pulled away to see an increasing amount of the partygoers turning to see what the fuss was about.
Puck swaggered over and dropped into the water next to us. “You girls need a hand?”
“Does it look like we need a hand?” I snapped back, intentionally slurring more than normal to make it abundantly clear how wasted I was (no one needed to know I was operating on only a couple beers).
He grinned obnoxiously. “Looks like you’re about to get one.”
“Fuck off, Puckerman.”
“Mm, yeah, keep it coming.”
Britt giggled. At my questioning and still-irritated look, she said, “What? He said coming.”
I rolled my eyes. “You two are about as mature as a pair of prepubescent boys.”
“Pre… what?”
“Never mind, B.”
An empty beer can bounced off Puck’s head. “What the fuck, dude!” he shouted.
Karofsky, looking like an angry bear, stood at the edge of the pool. “Puckerman, seriously? What the hell? They were giving us a show until you jumped in!”
“They want a show?” Britt murmured to me.
“What? B, no. Don’t even think about it.”
Ever the performer, Britt grinned. “Think about it,” she whispered. “A bunch of people watching… that’s kind of a turn on.”
“No.”
“Fine. Can we at least…?”
“Okay.”
The benefit of being best friends with someone for twelve years was the mind reading that came along with it. I grabbed Brittany’s hand and pulled her up the steps out of the pool, to much groaning and complaining from the boys. I could practically feel Brittany smiling; unable to resist, she rested a hand on my ass as we walked out of the garden toward the street where my car was parked.
We’d barely made it past the fence when she whirled me around and started kissing me again. She nipped my neck and I groaned.
“Babe-not here-“ I managed.
“Nobody’s watching,” she murmured against my skin.
“Home-“
We didn’t make it all the way home. We barely made it two blocks and I had to stop the car.
That night, tangled in her limbs on the trampoline in the backyard after we finally did make it back to her house, outside because we were afraid to open any doors or windows until we were sober, I told her I loved her. I knew she knew, but I’d never actually said it before. It freaked the fuck out of me. I wanted to swallow the words as soon as they’d left my mouth, but by then it was too late, and I just laid there terrified, hoping maybe it had been quiet enough that she hadn’t heard. My ears were pounding so loud I wasn’t sure I’d even heard myself, and I began to think maybe I hadn’t said anything at all, and just when my heart started to slow down a little, the corners of her lips curled up in a little smile. She traced a pattern carefully on my bare shoulder. Punctuating it with a gentle scratch of her fingernail, she looked up at me through her eyelashes. I held my breath and my heart went wild again. What did a heart attack feel like? Was I about to die? Confess love, then die. Great. Perfect. If this was how “I love you’s” went down I was never doing it again. Assuming I lived long enough to get the opportunity.
“You’re turning red,” she said.
I remembered to breathe again when she kissed me softly.
*
“I love you, too,” she replied immediately.
I pulled my lower lip between my teeth. “Remember the first time I said that to you?”
She nodded. “Of course. On the trampoline after Puck’s party.” There was a dull flicker of in her eyes at the mention of his name.
“You didn’t say it back,” I said.
She smiled, and I couldn’t help but smile a little, too.
“That was the scariest thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Her smile turned bitter as she eyed the bite on her arm. “Until now.”
I almost agreed. “No,” I said, pushing her wrist down. “Even now.”