Fic: Quicksand, Rated: M (Santana/Brittany) (2/7)
Title: Quicksand (2/7)
Pairing(s): Brittana, Quick, lesbros
Rating: Mature
previous chapter
Santana wakes up to a banging in her head and it’s not the unrelenting drums of her wake up track. She sits up in her bed, resting on her elbows, as she tries to place the sound that woke her up. Santana looks at her dock; the digital numbers tell her that she had a good thirty minutes left before she had to wake up. Half an hour of quality sleep time and it’s ruined by some jackass banging on the door of her shop, a shop that doesn’t even open for another forty-five minutes. This asshole isn’t going away though, judging by the fact that Santana was woken up at all by the knocking.
“Thirty prime and precious minutes fucking wasted all because some ass doesn’t want to make a home brew,” Santana hates being woken up early.
Santana plods down the stairs, pulling on some board shorts, a black and red short that she stole from Puck years ago, and a black hoodie, because she’s not about to put a shirt and bra on for this asshole. The person is still knocking and it doesn’t help Santana’s mood any when she accidentally jams a toe of her bare foot into the edge of a counter while trying to turn on some lights. Santana gets to the front door of the shop and just stands there, debating whether or not she actually wants to deal with this person, but they probably already noticed the lights turning on and…fuck, a whole half hour. Santana unlocks and opens the door to find this tall, blonde haired, blue eyed, Goddess standing before her with impossibly long legs in a pair of illegally short denim cut offs and grey sweatshirt that’s been redesigned to expose a tan and muscular clavicle, shoulder and arm.
It’s too fucking early for this shit and now Santana is hallucinating. Santana stands there for a good minute, waiting for the hallucination to go away, or do something, except the hallucination is just standing there staring at Santana.
“Hi!” The stranger smiles, her teeth beautiful straight and white, and it if she hadn’t just woken Santana up -- way too fucking early -- she might spend some time considering how beautiful that smile actually is. But she had a full thirty minutes left and she prefers sleeping in as long as she can, more than a beautiful girl any day.
“We’re not open yet.” Santana grumbles, her voice raspy from sleep, and she’s pretty sure that a scowl has permanently affixed itself to her face.
“That’s the point, silly.” This beautiful stranger rolls her eyes and giggles and Santana wonders if she’s still dreaming -- some wonderfully elaborate and painful dream that has somehow turned into one of those Japanese cartoons that Mikey and Puck were always watching. Thinking of it now, this blonde could totally be that Sailor Princess or whatever her name was. From that show with the dude in the tuxedo and the sailor outfits…and yeah, it’s too fucking early right now, because Santana’s brain just stalled on picturing that and it just makes her even more pouty.
“Quinn told me to,” the woman makes air quotes before continuing to speak, “Show up at the butt crack of dawn to catch Santana when she heads out.” She smiles again, before it drops and a half-worried half-confused expression takes its place. “You are Santana, right?”
“I am.” Santana really kind of wants to kill Quinn right now, but that could be the lack of sleep and caffeine talking.
“Awesome!” The woman visibly bounces and Santana squints at the unnecessary amounts of energy being put forth in front of her. “I’m Brittany.”
She’d say something vitriolic if it wasn’t so damn cute to see.
“So, here’s the thing.” Santana leans against the doorjamb, “My manager doesn’t come in until late morning today. It’s not usually an early surf day and I really want to kill Quinn right now.”
“Oh, crap.” Brittany’s eyes widen in realization, “Sorry.”
“No, it’s fine.” Santana runs a hand through her hair, “It just means we can’t start right away. So, you can go back home and crash or stick around for some coffee.”
“I hear it’s pretty good.”
“Better than that corporate mermaid on Main.” Santana smirks.
“Hmm.” Brittany smiles, “We’ll see about that.” She brushes by Santana, finally stepping through the threshold of the shop.
“Oh?” Santana closes the door and follows Brittany, “You think you know something about coffee?”
“Maybe.” Brittany’s smile is coy and Santana suddenly forgets that it’s too early for the smile that is on her face to be there.
“Like what?” Santana moves to the kitchen, indicating with her head that Brittany should follow.
“It’s brown water.”
“Oh, you’ve got to be shitting me.” Santana turns around with her eyebrows raised. Brittany doesn’t make eye contact, just keeps on smiling as she gives a soft shrug. “That’s it, out. Out!” Santana makes shooing motions with her hands.
“Okay, okay,” Brittany laughs out when Santana resorts to trying to push her out of the kitchen, “I might’ve worked for that mermaid for an extended period of time.”
“Seriously?” Santana asks, fighting the distaste from showing on her face. Brittany nods. “Ugh, now you really need to get out. We don’t want your kind here, sabotaging the beans, stealing my secrets. Go on now, git!”
“Why would I ever want to hurt innocent beans?” Brittany looks up at the back wall of the shop, made of square shaped drawers, each one labeled with a particular type of bean, “Besides, you’ve already wooed me to your side just for having Kona in house.”
“Kona, really?”
“The mermaid was a bit stuck up about their Kona.” Brittany shrugs and watches as Santana takes the container of green Kona beans out of its drawer and carries them to one of the roasters in the kitchen. “Your shop reminds me of Hawaii.”
“I’ve never been, but thanks.” Santana heads back to the coffee wall, putting back the Kona and grabbing the first in the line of LoCoRo’s regular morning options. It was nice not having to think up the LoCo of the day for once and it had been a while since she’d tasted the Kona.
“You haven’t?” Brittany sits down on a stool, watching as Santana seemingly dances through her morning routine.
“Nah, always wanted to though.”
“I thought all surfers went to Hawaii. It’s, like, a thing?” Brittany scrunches her eyebrows together.
“I mean, one day when I decide to take a vacation, sure.” Santana laughs as she starts placing the dough of their various morning pastries on baking sheets. “But it’s not mandatory, you know?”
“It’s not?”
“Nope. Hey, can you get the door for me?” Santana motions with her head to the brick oven, her hands full from holding the pizza peel loaded with ready to be baked goods. “I’m not that kind of surfer.”
“What kind of surfer are you?” Brittany closes the door after Santana clears the oven.
“Thanks.” Santana smiles, then moves over to the now roasted beans. “I guess the mainstream term is soul surfer. I just surf ‘cause it helps clear my head.”
“And keeps you hot.” Brittany nods.
“That’s never been a problem.” Santana winks and Brittany laughs. “It did help me with my P.T. with Quinn though.”
“She’s amazing at her job.” Brittany joins Santana by the coffee grinders and starts helping her with the various grinds. “I mean, she was still an intern at the time, but Quinn was able to motivate me in a way no one else has before. The other stunties were amazed by how fast I bounced back.”
“What’s that like?”
“Stunting?”
Santana nods as she pours the Kona grounds into the ‘LoCo taste of the Day’ container.
“You’d think I’d come up with a decent answer by now.” Brittany hands Santana the next in the row of fresh grounds, “Some days it’s the greatest thing ever, other days you remember that it’s a job and you have to force yourself through certain things.”
“You don’t like it?”
“No. It’s not that.” Brittany grabs the hand that Santana had put out to grab the next set of grounds, but there weren’t any, so Brittany plays with Santana’s hand instead. “I love it. I’m practically made for it. Throwing myself through windows and doors, walking into walls, all part of my everyday life that I don’t get paid for.” Brittany smiles.
“And I have to teach you how to surf?” Santana laughs.
“Yup, you’re stuck with me.” Brittany’s eyes twinkle with mischief and she finally lets go of Santana’s hand.
“At least you know your body.”
“Oh yeah, I know my body real well. I’m all sorts of flexy.” Brittany winks.
A loud revving of a motorcycle engine breaks through the not-so-awkward silence that had engulfed the two women. Santana rolls her eyes.
“What’s that?”
“A Puckerman.” Santana shrugs, doing her best to ignore the noise.
“Taaanaaa!” A deep voice booms from outside the shop.
“An annoying Puckerman.” Santana sighs and heads to the front door of the shop, “You’ll scare off the customers - what the fuck is that?”
“Isn’t it great?” Puck gestures to the bike that’s currently nestled between his legs.
“It’s…green.” Santana blinks. It is. The bike is the type of green that makes one think of sour apples that have been dunked into a vat of nuclear substance. It’s so green; it practically glows in the early morning light. The scripted chrome that reads ‘Ninja’ can barely be read on its bright background.
“Fuck yeah! No one else has the balls to ride this shit.”
“No one thinks as much of themselves as you do, Puck.” Santana shakes her head.
“I’m awesome.” Puck grins.
“No, you’re not. Don’t lie.” Santana winks, then remembers that Brittany is standing behind her. She moves out of the way and makes introductions.
“Is that the ZX-14R?” Brittany asks like it’s no big deal.
“Yeah, babe. Any time you want a ride, just let the Puckster know.” Puck winks. He would, that ass. Santana rolls her eyes.
“You ride?” Santana leans against the doorjamb of the shop, watching Brittany inspect Puck’s new toy.
“Crotch rockets?” Brittany laughs at Puck’s affronted squeak, “No. I mean, I know them well enough to do something impressive at work, if needed.”
“Work?” Puck scrunches his brow, “Oh! You’re that Brittany.”
“Which Brittany did you think I was?”
“Nah, I just thought you were Santana’s new girl or something.” Puck shrugs.
“Thanks Puck, glad to know you think I’m a slut.”
“A slut with taste.” Puck winks.
“I’ll just pretend like you’re not actually talking about me like I’m not here.” Brittany pokes Puck in the arm.
“Ouch, sorry.” Puck rubs his arm, “Hey, want a ride?”
“Is this a sex thing?” Brittany looks from Puck to Santana, who laughs.
“No, he just wants to show off his new toy.” Santana smiles with adoration at Puck, who is grinning like a kid on Christmas morning.
“Don’t you want to go?”
“No.” Santana stiffens and stands.
“She doesn’t ride anymore.” Puck provides.
“Puck.” There’s a threatening edge in Santana’s voice. She coughs and speaks again, her voice much closer to its normal octave, “Go, check out his toy. I’ve got to change before some customers get here and think I’ve completely lost it.
“’Tana, you never had it.” Puck winks and Brittany laughs.
“Well, okay, if you’re sure.” Brittany bites her bottom lip. Santana nods, unsure as to why Brittany was asking for permission.
“Go, ride that fourteen hundred four stroke like it’s meant to be ridden.” Santana smiles and waves them off with her hand.
When Santana hears Puck and Brittany get back, the shop is full, Tina and Becky are helping her hold down the fort, Sipping Jetstreams is playing in the background and Santana’s dressed in her customary work garb of well worn jeans and a purple, grey and white plaid flannel button down shirt. She looks up at the numbers of the large flat digital clock in the center of the wall of the shop that isn’t one giant window. It’s almost mid morning; Schue should be there soon to take over. The sound of a wave breaking sounds over the soundtrack of the surf film, indicating the front door being opened (Santana thought it was kind of cheesy, but after being caught unawares while reading by a customer too many times without it, it is a necessary evil and at least it’s not a fucking bell.). Santana looks up to see Brittany walk in, attempting to fix her helmet hair, and Puck following after.
“The hell did you go?” Santana laughs and the two approach her counter.
“Cruised down PCH,” Puck shrugs.
“I had to get him out of a speeding ticket in Dana Point.” Brittany rolls her eyes and laughs.
“Yeah, well.” Puck ruffles the hair on top of his head and grins.
“Sorry officer,” Brittany opens her eyes wide, seemingly making her irises even bluer, “It was my fault. You see, I’m just so worried about my sister, that I kept telling him to drive faster so we could get to the hospital sooner...”
“You’re something else, aren’t you?” Santana laughs.
“Yeah, something evil.” Puck grins. “It actually fucking worked.”
“No way.” Santana turns to Brittany in disbelief, “Damn you blondes. That shit never works for me.”
“Yeah, well, we’ve got to be good for something.” Brittany shrugs and looks up at the menu of the day, written in chalk, behind Santana’s head. “Can I get that Kona now, and a banana muffin?”
“You really did work for the mermaid.” Santana shakes her head.
“Why would I lie?” Brittany tilts her head and scrunches her brow.
“’Cause they’re trying to impress ‘Tana, for some reason.” Puck sticks out his tongue, a gesture that Santana swiftly returns. “Never works though, as soon as they order their coffee she can tell. Hell, I can tell.”
“Oh, that’s sad.”
“You’re in luck, Brittany, a fresh batch of muffins just came out of the oven and the LoCo taste of the day is being brewed as we speak.” Santana goes to fetch the items for Brittany and calls over her shoulder, “Puck, stayin’ or goin’?”
“Goin’.”
Santana nods and gets a thermos out of a cupboard, purposely picking the red one to clash with Puck’s new bike, and fills it up with coffee. She then grabs a mug and fills it up with the Kona blend and brings both over to the counter, along with Brittany’s muffin and a cinnamon raisin bagel for Puck.
“Thanks, San.” Puck leans over the counter and kisses Santana on the cheek, then turns to leave. “I’ll hit ya later.”
“Don’t get into too much trouble, ass.”
“Why is he going to hit you later?” Brittany looks at Santana quizzically before taking a bite of her muffin, “Oh my God, that is mouthgasmic.”
“Yup. We got it goin’ on.” Santana smirks and shrugs.
“You do. Can I, like, live here?” Brittany takes a sip of coffee and hums in pleasure. “Seriously, you put drugs in your products.”
“I like you.” Santana laughs.
“I like you too.” Brittany grins.
“C’mon, let’s get you started on that surfing tip.” Santana lifts the partition in the counter for Brittany to walk through and then offers her arm for Brittany to hold, once Santana’s closed the partition. “Hey, Chang, you cool till Schue gets here?”
“Yeah. Got it, Santana.” Tina nods and hands the customer at the counter their order.
Santana leads Brittany out through the back door of the kitchen and around the back to her garage, which sits separate from the main building. Not many people are allowed into the garage, it has become one of Santana’s hiding places. Not that it’s all that good of a hiding spot, people obviously know when she’s in there, but she’s lucky enough to have the sort of people in her life who know not to bother her when she’s in the garage unless it’s for something important. Santana doesn’t even remember the last time Puck had been in there.
She opens the door and flips on the light to her sanctuary, letting Brittany go in first through the threshold. Having a relative stranger enter her space is an unbelievably uncomfortable experience for Santana, but she tries to play it off like there’s nothing unusual about this moment. It’s just another garage, half full with surfboards and wetsuits, and the other portion housing a half built café cruiser with tools scattered on the floor around it. Santana ignores the pictures of her parents, Puck, Mikey and Quinn on the wall, pretending that they’re just random people intermixed with all the posters of perfect waves being surfed.
“This is so cool.” Brittany looks around at the garage, a delicate smile on her face.
“Thanks.” Santana shrugs, runs a hand through her hair and heads to the back, where the longest surfboards are lined up in their racks.
“Why do you have so many?” Brittany runs her hand along one of the shorter boards, cyan blue edges and only about six feet in length.
“It’s a hobby I dabbled in.” Santana shrugs, forcing herself to focus on the boards before her, trying to pick out the perfect one for Brittany to learn on. It’s not like it mattered all that much in the scheme of things, but Santana believed that the boards spoke to her and the one calling out Brittany’s name would be the one to make the process a whole lot easier for Brittany to learn. If Brittany’s first experience with surfing is a good one, then she’d be much more likely to continue on surfing, long after her movie finishes filming.
“You made these?” Brittany whips her attention to Santana, a hint of awe in her voice.
“Yeah, used to.”
“Wow.” A hand wraps around Santana’s bicep and squeezes, Brittany’s grip feels like it’s burning through the flannel of Santana’s shirt and Santana doesn’t know if it’s supposed to mean something or if she’s just that uncomfortable with someone being in the garage with her. Brittany distracts her thoughts with a whisper, “They’re beautiful.”
“I, uhm, yeah…purple.” Santana grabs a longboard with a purple surface from the rack in front of her and lays it down on the two sawhorses next to her. She grabs a rectangle block, about an inch thick and two inches wide, from the cubbyhole next to the horses. “I’ve gotta wax your board, it won’t be that long, but you might want to sit anyway.”
“Oh, okay.”
“I’m assuming you don’t have a board.” Santana unwraps the block and begins applying the wax in quick, short, back and forth motions along the surface. “Actually, I’m hoping that you don’t have one, ‘cause you really shouldn’t be trusting no retail bitch who’s just there to get you to buy shit you don’t need.”
“No, Quinn kind of warned me not to get one before talking to you.” Brittany shrugs.
“Quinn apparently talked a lot about me.” Santana tries to hide the annoyance in her tone, but she knows it slipped through. She’s still working on her more acidic personality traits.
“Oh, no. It’s not like she’s going around all willy nilly and pimping you out to people.” Brittany sits up on her stool, focusing her attention towards Santana. “It’s just that she was, well, she knows me.” Brittany shrugs. “Like, she was my first non-stunty or film related friend since moving out here from Ohio.”
“Ohio?” Santana looks up, surprise visibly apparent on her features.
“Yeah, a place that has weather.”
“Certainly explains how you’re living here, but have never surfed before.”
“I guess.” Brittany shrugs.
“Wait.” Santana puts down the wax and turns to Brittany, “Perhaps I should’ve asked this first, you can swim right?”
“No.” Brittany schools her features into a rueful look, before breaking out into laughter. “Oh, you should’ve seen your face! There are pools in Ohio, Santana.”
“Shut up.” Santana laughs and throws a small hand towel that had been lying on the floor next to her at Brittany. “I didn’t want to assume and get out there and then, like, suddenly you’re drowning or something.”
“I’d imagine that I wouldn’t get that far in my industry if I didn’t know how to swim.” Brittany plays with her hair, visibly trying to fight a smile from showing on her face.
“So, you were saying that Quinn’s your only friend?” Santana tries to change the subject. She picks the block of wax back up and continues applying it to the surfboard.
“Not my only friend, just the only one who realized that I might need certain assistance in some aspects of life.” Brittany shrugs. “So, when I mentioned to her my current situation, she informed me that I shouldn’t even step into a surf shop without you.”
“I knew there was a reason I kept her around.”
“It’s not ‘cause she’s hot?” Brittany smirks.
“Oh God no.” Santana shakes her head and looks to Brittany, “Well, I mean, yes. She’s very beautiful, but it’s not like that.”
“Good, ‘cause I think she has a thing for Puck.” Brittany nods.
“How much time do you spend with Quinn? I thought Puck and I were her only friends.”
“When I’m in town, I usually kidnap her for a weekend and take her up to my place in Arrowhead.” Brittany shrugs. She looks over to the other side of the shop, “That’s a nice bike you’ve got there.”
“Thanks.”
“Triumph, right?”
“Yup.” Santana’s movements become a bit jerkier in her application of the wax.
“Steve McQueen’s TT Special 650?”
“Yes.” Santana’s movements stop as she lifts her head to look at Brittany, “Most people don’t know that.”
“I’m not most people.” Brittany winks.
“That is definitely true.” Santana smiles and shakes her head. “The Great Escape was my Papi’s favorite movie.”
“He’s got awesome taste.”
“Yeah, he did.” Santana lowers her head and resumes preparing the surfboard. She knows she needs to deal with the loss of her parents, but talking about them to someone she’s just met…well, Santana’s just not ready for that yet.
She finishes preparing the board, stands up and moves over to the wall holding at least twenty wetsuits of various sizes. Santana looks at Brittany for a moment before looking back at the suits and choosing a suit and taking it off the rack.
“I’m assuming you don’t have a wetsuit either.”
“Wetsuit? But, it gets so warm outside.”
“Yeah, but the water pretty much stays at sixty degrees so…” Santana holds the suit out for Brittany to take.
“Oh.” Brittany takes the suit and looks at it.
“It’s clean, I promise. I kind of have this thing about cleanliness.”
“Oh, no. It’s not that. I just, uhm,” Brittany bites her lip. “Am I supposed to wear anything under it?
“That’s up to you.” Santana shrugs.
Brittany shrugs, lays the wetsuit over the surfboard and lifts her shirt up and over her head. Santana’s eyes widen at the realization that Brittany wasn’t wearing anything underneath, and was apparently going to change before her. Santana coughs and moves towards the door to the shop.
“I’m just, uh...” Santana coughs and shakes her head, wondering where this girl came from. “I’ll give you some privacy and go up and change into my own suit and be right down.”
-x-
Wetsuits aren’t sexy. They’re water dynamic and fit the body like a glove, but they always give the appearance of being bulky. Santana’s never really thought about it before. It’s just been a part of her life ever since her Papi took her on her first wave at seven months old (not that she actually remembers that). She notices it now, though. Now that Santana’s fully awake and has had her coffee, it’s helped her realize that Brittany isn’t some hallucination, Brittany is very much real, and Santana’s definitely attracted to her.
Santana’s never been more thankful for the full body wetsuits than she is right now on the beach with Brittany. It’s hard enough not getting distracted by Brittany’s smile, twinkling eyes and flowing hair, but if this was, like, Maui and they were just in bikini’s? Santana’s not sure she’d make it through the lesson without trying to kiss Brittany. It’s not a bad way of having a good time; Santana’s used the surf lesson technique many times to reel in many a person. She’s just trying to turn a new leaf, now. The random hookups never filled in the holes she was trying to fill, no matter how hot the person or fantastic the sex. So, the wetsuit will help Santana tame her libido, keep everything in check long enough for her to properly teach her student. She just wishes that she didn’t pick out that blue wetsuit instead of the traditional black, ‘cause the blue of the suit just seems to make Brittany’s matching colored eyes even more vivid.
“Are you trying to teach me telepathically?” Brittany’s voice seeps into Santana’s ears. Santana shakes her head, swearing that it was Brittany who had been in her head, using her eyes as some sort of trance inducers or something.
“Uh, no. Just trying to think of the best way to do this.” Santana smiles and tilts her head slightly, trying to sell her statement.
“Oh, okay. That would’ve been cool though. I could’ve brought you home to talk to my cat. I’m sure he gets bored trying to hold conversations with me when I can’t talk back to him.” Brittany scrunches her nose, “Well, not in my head at least.”
“Sorry?” Santana laughs and drops the surfboard down on the sand. “Do you work out?”
“Are you asking me on a date?” Brittany tilts her head; the afternoon sunlight reflecting off of her blonde hair temporarily blinds Santana.
“What?” Santana squeaks and takes a step back, “No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Please, I don’t need cheesy pick up lines to get dates.” Santana rolls her eyes and crosses her arms across her chest.
“I’m glad you know that.” Brittany winks. Santana shakes her head.
“I was just wondering if you do stuff like pushups and yoga? It’s not essential, you know, to surf, but it’ll help the process.”
“Oh, yeah. Totally.” Brittany nods.
“Cool. You ready?” Santana smiles and moves to the top of the board.
“Let’s do this thing.”
“Okay, so this is your board. This one is a longboard, they come in all sorts of sizes, you know, but this one is generally the easiest for people to learn on. It’s more forgiving and gives you more to work with than a short board.”
“Yeah, but they were the first, right?”
“Did you research this shit?” Santana laughs and Brittany gives a bashful shrug and smiles. “That stuff doesn’t matter right now, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Just go ahead and lie down on your board, Brittany.” Santana watches as Brittany seemingly rolls her body down on top of the purple board and then she points to a bright yellow stripe in the middle that runs the length of the board, “This stripe lets you know where the middle of the board is, you want to keep it in line with the middle of your body.”
“Why?” Brittany shifts over a bit, making sure she was aligned.
“It’s a balance thing. If you don’t have balance, things will go wrong, you know?”
“Like life.” Brittany nods, “Or flipping through a window.”
“Yes, like those, Yoda.” Santana laughs. “You want to make sure that your toes are at the back of your board, it’s like a sweet spot or whatever. It just helps.”
“Do this often?” Brittany winks.
“Shut up.” Santana laughs, “I’ve no clue why Quinn sent you to me, but whatever. Put your hands to your chest like a military pushup except a little wider, right, and then push up. That gets you to your knees, yeah. Like that.” Santana nods and smiles encouragingly at Brittany who is hovering on her arms and knees above the board, “From that, you want to bring your leg forward, lining up your foot with your hands in the middle of the board and using your back foot to stand up.”
“I think Quinn knew that you wouldn’t try and take advantage of me.” Brittany says as she stands up, with good balance, on the board and smiles at Santana.
“This method is, like, for beginners. Like, totally basic, just to get people up and riding a wave. I’ll teach you how to pop up later, Britt.” Santana coughs, “Brittany, I mean. It’ll look better in the film, a lot less clumsy.”
“Britt.” Brittany smiles and stands up straight on her board, looking at Santana.
“No, you want to stay low on your board. The lower the better, what?” Santana looks up at Brittany when the girl doesn’t squat back down.
“You called me Britt.” Her smile is even larger now as she looks down at a confused looking Santana, “That means you like me.”
“Or I’m just lazy.” Santana smirks, raising an eyebrow.
“Nope.” Brittany shakes her head, “You like me. You want to keep me. You gave me a nickname. We only name the things we want to keep around.”
“It just slipped out.” Santana was sure her cheeks were darkening out of embarrassment. She felt like she was spinning out of control underwater and Brittany was the wave.
“Okay, San.” Brittany winks and bends her knees, “Like this?”
“Uh, yeah.” Santana brushes her hair out of her face, trying to fight the grin that wants to place itself on her face, “You want to make sure that the line passes through the middle of the arches on your feet. Then, just remember to keep your knees bent and have your arms out for balance. The lower you are, the better your control is over the board.”
“Sounds like it’s a good thing I’ve got strong thighs.”
“I’m sorry?” Santana blinks.
“Like, it’s good that I do a lot of squats in my regular workout, right? It’ll help me stay low and in control.”
“Let’s just focus on standing up first, Britt.” Santana nods.
“And here I was mainly doing it to have junk in the trunk.”
“You can’t possibly real.” Santana laughs.
“Believe it, babe.” Brittany winks, “Now, let’s get on some waves!”
Santana carries the board to the water for Brittany, letting her get used to the water, and the waves crashing against her, without having to concentrate on not losing the board. It doesn’t actually take that long for Brittany to stand up, even shorter for her to remain standing after realizing that attempting to bounce, clap and shouting, “Look Santana! I’m doing it!” wasn’t conducive to staying up on the board. Something told Santana that if Brittany were given enough time, she’d somehow figure out how to get away with it. Once Brittany figures out how to stand without any problems, Santana stops paying as much attention on the technique of it all and begins body surfing long with her.
It always felt amazing to be on the ocean, being carried by this sheer mass of endless energy. Santana doesn’t really care that she didn’t have a board beneath her feet, being on the ocean meant more than that now, more than having to surf every wave, constantly looking for something bigger and better - for that illusive perfect wave. Sure, the bigger waves gave her more to play with; more of a challenge, but it makes her just as happy to ride these one-foot waves with her body. Santana gets why her Papi taught her now, she lost sight of it for a while before she stopped - before everything went to hell, when all she was worried about was showing the boys on her high school surf team that she was the one to beat. ¬
Santana hopes that Brittany’s not just doing this for a job. The woman is a natural. Santana has seen many a jock attempt to surf, athletic ability doesn’t mean shit sometimes. She’s glad that it’s working for Brittany. That Brittany is giggling and laughing and apparently having a good time, even attempting to put her toes on the nose. Santana shakes her head; leave it to this enigma of a woman to have no fear of failure. She decides to just float for a bit, looking up at the cloudless sky and letting the ocean rock her like a baby. Santana learned, after ending up way too far down the beach than she’d originated, how to allow herself to float without getting carried away by the waves. She doesn’t want to go too far now, especially with a beginner learning how to surf. If Brittany managed to slice her head open with a fin, and Santana was too far down the beach to do anything, she wouldn’t be able to live with herself. So, she floats, but keeps her ears open for Brittany’s splashes (or giggles), using Brittany as a tether. It was surprisingly easy for Santana to do for some reason. Whenever she did this with Puck or Quinn, she’d inevitably end up further down the beach than intended, having confused them with surfers or swimmers that were just passing by. There was something unique about Brittany that made it easy for Santana to zone in and concentrate on, Santana just doesn’t know what it is.
“Hey.” A whisper says next to her ear and Santana nearly has a heart attack at the sudden closeness of someone near her. Maybe she was wrong about it being easy to focus on Brittany if the woman was able to sneak up on her like that.
“Whoa.” Santana places a hand on Brittany’s shoulder and moves her legs in the motion of an eggbeater, trying to regain her breath and balance from shooting up so fast.
“Sorry.” Brittany giggles, “You okay? I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”
“I’m fine, just need to learn how to breathe again.” Santana takes in a huge breath of air and coughs, “Shit.”
“It’s just that we’ve been here for hours now,” Brittany moves a strand of hair out of Santana’s face. “I’m kinda sore and tired and hungry.”
“Hours?” Santana looks at her clunky white watch, the numbers beneath the G-Shock logo indicating that they had, in fact, been out on that ocean for hours. “Shit, sorry.”
“No, it’s good. I think I learned a lot.” Brittany smiles, “The basic mechanics, I mean. I was just worried that you were going to get carried away by the ocean before our second lesson.”
“Nah, Mama takes care of me, always brings me back to dry land.” Santana taps the top of the water with her hand and winks at Brittany. She tilts her head and starts slowly swimming to shore, Brittany following right behind her.
“Mama?”
“My mom used to refer to the ocean that way.” Santana shrugs, “It’s not like she was religious or anything, so I don’t know if it was in reference to a particular religion or spirituality or if she was just referring to Mother Nature.” Santana picks up the purple board and heads towards the stairs of the beach. She feels Brittany lift up the other end, making it lighter and less cumbersome. “It just always seemed right for me, you know?”
“Respect your mother.” Brittany nods.
“’Cause if Mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.”
“It makes sense. Like, if she’s having a bad mood, the sky’s all dark and gloomy and her waves all sorts of big and scary, you might want to stay away.”
“Yeah or extra cautious when you go out.”
“I have to do that with stunts sometimes.”
“Yeah, like what?”
“Well, you just need to always be aware of what’s going on around you, you know?” Brittany shrugs, “Like, it might not be the best idea to jump off a helicopter during a hurricane.”
“You’ve done that?” Santana blinks.
“Not during a hurricane, I wasn’t about to get on that helicopter.” Brittany shakes her head and tugs the board to stop Santana from walking. She switches the surfboard to her other arm. “The director was an asshole who kept trying to insist that it’d make the shot better. I explained to him that if he didn’t postpone the shoot, he’d have a hard time finding stunties that were willing to do his films.”
“Whoa, are you some, like, big name or something?”
“Not really,” Brittany laughs, then nudges Santana to continue walking. “I was totally bullshitting.”
“Nice!” Santana laughs.
“Well, I mean, I am friends with some people you’ve probably heard of, but that’s business. They’re not like Quinn, you know?”
“Yeah, I think I get it.”
“Though if they heard that this director was willing to kill his stunt people to get a shot, you can bet they’d be all over him; blacklisted, no matter how much money his films earn.”
“Jumping out of a helicopter though, that must’ve been crazy.” Santana opens the door to her garage.
“That’s not the hard part,” Brittany shrugs and helps Santana put the board away. “It’s the landing on a mark, and looking pretty while doing it, that tends to cause issues.”
“Crazy.”
“Yup.” Brittany grins, “Hey, I’ve gotta go. There’s a meeting with the director that I need to get ready for, but thanks for today.” Brittany leans over and kisses Santana on the cheek, “You’re really sweet, being all nice and teaching me how to surf and everything.”
“No problem, Britt.” Santana knows she’s blushing now, but she’s hoping that the heat on her skin is from being in the sun for so long. “Just drop by whenever you want your next lesson, I’m usually around.”
“I will, if just for the coffee.” Brittany winks.
“You got it.” Santana’s eyes widen as she sees Brittany reach for the zipper of her wetsuit. “I’ll just, uh, let you be. Go ahead and leave the suit on the bench when you’re done. I’ll take care of it later.”
“Okay.” Brittany chuckles. “See you later Santana.”
“Uh, yeah. Bye, Brittany.”
next
Pairing(s): Brittana, Quick, lesbros
Rating: Mature
previous chapter
Santana wakes up to a banging in her head and it’s not the unrelenting drums of her wake up track. She sits up in her bed, resting on her elbows, as she tries to place the sound that woke her up. Santana looks at her dock; the digital numbers tell her that she had a good thirty minutes left before she had to wake up. Half an hour of quality sleep time and it’s ruined by some jackass banging on the door of her shop, a shop that doesn’t even open for another forty-five minutes. This asshole isn’t going away though, judging by the fact that Santana was woken up at all by the knocking.
“Thirty prime and precious minutes fucking wasted all because some ass doesn’t want to make a home brew,” Santana hates being woken up early.
Santana plods down the stairs, pulling on some board shorts, a black and red short that she stole from Puck years ago, and a black hoodie, because she’s not about to put a shirt and bra on for this asshole. The person is still knocking and it doesn’t help Santana’s mood any when she accidentally jams a toe of her bare foot into the edge of a counter while trying to turn on some lights. Santana gets to the front door of the shop and just stands there, debating whether or not she actually wants to deal with this person, but they probably already noticed the lights turning on and…fuck, a whole half hour. Santana unlocks and opens the door to find this tall, blonde haired, blue eyed, Goddess standing before her with impossibly long legs in a pair of illegally short denim cut offs and grey sweatshirt that’s been redesigned to expose a tan and muscular clavicle, shoulder and arm.
It’s too fucking early for this shit and now Santana is hallucinating. Santana stands there for a good minute, waiting for the hallucination to go away, or do something, except the hallucination is just standing there staring at Santana.
“Hi!” The stranger smiles, her teeth beautiful straight and white, and it if she hadn’t just woken Santana up -- way too fucking early -- she might spend some time considering how beautiful that smile actually is. But she had a full thirty minutes left and she prefers sleeping in as long as she can, more than a beautiful girl any day.
“We’re not open yet.” Santana grumbles, her voice raspy from sleep, and she’s pretty sure that a scowl has permanently affixed itself to her face.
“That’s the point, silly.” This beautiful stranger rolls her eyes and giggles and Santana wonders if she’s still dreaming -- some wonderfully elaborate and painful dream that has somehow turned into one of those Japanese cartoons that Mikey and Puck were always watching. Thinking of it now, this blonde could totally be that Sailor Princess or whatever her name was. From that show with the dude in the tuxedo and the sailor outfits…and yeah, it’s too fucking early right now, because Santana’s brain just stalled on picturing that and it just makes her even more pouty.
“Quinn told me to,” the woman makes air quotes before continuing to speak, “Show up at the butt crack of dawn to catch Santana when she heads out.” She smiles again, before it drops and a half-worried half-confused expression takes its place. “You are Santana, right?”
“I am.” Santana really kind of wants to kill Quinn right now, but that could be the lack of sleep and caffeine talking.
“Awesome!” The woman visibly bounces and Santana squints at the unnecessary amounts of energy being put forth in front of her. “I’m Brittany.”
She’d say something vitriolic if it wasn’t so damn cute to see.
“So, here’s the thing.” Santana leans against the doorjamb, “My manager doesn’t come in until late morning today. It’s not usually an early surf day and I really want to kill Quinn right now.”
“Oh, crap.” Brittany’s eyes widen in realization, “Sorry.”
“No, it’s fine.” Santana runs a hand through her hair, “It just means we can’t start right away. So, you can go back home and crash or stick around for some coffee.”
“I hear it’s pretty good.”
“Better than that corporate mermaid on Main.” Santana smirks.
“Hmm.” Brittany smiles, “We’ll see about that.” She brushes by Santana, finally stepping through the threshold of the shop.
“Oh?” Santana closes the door and follows Brittany, “You think you know something about coffee?”
“Maybe.” Brittany’s smile is coy and Santana suddenly forgets that it’s too early for the smile that is on her face to be there.
“Like what?” Santana moves to the kitchen, indicating with her head that Brittany should follow.
“It’s brown water.”
“Oh, you’ve got to be shitting me.” Santana turns around with her eyebrows raised. Brittany doesn’t make eye contact, just keeps on smiling as she gives a soft shrug. “That’s it, out. Out!” Santana makes shooing motions with her hands.
“Okay, okay,” Brittany laughs out when Santana resorts to trying to push her out of the kitchen, “I might’ve worked for that mermaid for an extended period of time.”
“Seriously?” Santana asks, fighting the distaste from showing on her face. Brittany nods. “Ugh, now you really need to get out. We don’t want your kind here, sabotaging the beans, stealing my secrets. Go on now, git!”
“Why would I ever want to hurt innocent beans?” Brittany looks up at the back wall of the shop, made of square shaped drawers, each one labeled with a particular type of bean, “Besides, you’ve already wooed me to your side just for having Kona in house.”
“Kona, really?”
“The mermaid was a bit stuck up about their Kona.” Brittany shrugs and watches as Santana takes the container of green Kona beans out of its drawer and carries them to one of the roasters in the kitchen. “Your shop reminds me of Hawaii.”
“I’ve never been, but thanks.” Santana heads back to the coffee wall, putting back the Kona and grabbing the first in the line of LoCoRo’s regular morning options. It was nice not having to think up the LoCo of the day for once and it had been a while since she’d tasted the Kona.
“You haven’t?” Brittany sits down on a stool, watching as Santana seemingly dances through her morning routine.
“Nah, always wanted to though.”
“I thought all surfers went to Hawaii. It’s, like, a thing?” Brittany scrunches her eyebrows together.
“I mean, one day when I decide to take a vacation, sure.” Santana laughs as she starts placing the dough of their various morning pastries on baking sheets. “But it’s not mandatory, you know?”
“It’s not?”
“Nope. Hey, can you get the door for me?” Santana motions with her head to the brick oven, her hands full from holding the pizza peel loaded with ready to be baked goods. “I’m not that kind of surfer.”
“What kind of surfer are you?” Brittany closes the door after Santana clears the oven.
“Thanks.” Santana smiles, then moves over to the now roasted beans. “I guess the mainstream term is soul surfer. I just surf ‘cause it helps clear my head.”
“And keeps you hot.” Brittany nods.
“That’s never been a problem.” Santana winks and Brittany laughs. “It did help me with my P.T. with Quinn though.”
“She’s amazing at her job.” Brittany joins Santana by the coffee grinders and starts helping her with the various grinds. “I mean, she was still an intern at the time, but Quinn was able to motivate me in a way no one else has before. The other stunties were amazed by how fast I bounced back.”
“What’s that like?”
“Stunting?”
Santana nods as she pours the Kona grounds into the ‘LoCo taste of the Day’ container.
“You’d think I’d come up with a decent answer by now.” Brittany hands Santana the next in the row of fresh grounds, “Some days it’s the greatest thing ever, other days you remember that it’s a job and you have to force yourself through certain things.”
“You don’t like it?”
“No. It’s not that.” Brittany grabs the hand that Santana had put out to grab the next set of grounds, but there weren’t any, so Brittany plays with Santana’s hand instead. “I love it. I’m practically made for it. Throwing myself through windows and doors, walking into walls, all part of my everyday life that I don’t get paid for.” Brittany smiles.
“And I have to teach you how to surf?” Santana laughs.
“Yup, you’re stuck with me.” Brittany’s eyes twinkle with mischief and she finally lets go of Santana’s hand.
“At least you know your body.”
“Oh yeah, I know my body real well. I’m all sorts of flexy.” Brittany winks.
A loud revving of a motorcycle engine breaks through the not-so-awkward silence that had engulfed the two women. Santana rolls her eyes.
“What’s that?”
“A Puckerman.” Santana shrugs, doing her best to ignore the noise.
“Taaanaaa!” A deep voice booms from outside the shop.
“An annoying Puckerman.” Santana sighs and heads to the front door of the shop, “You’ll scare off the customers - what the fuck is that?”
“Isn’t it great?” Puck gestures to the bike that’s currently nestled between his legs.
“It’s…green.” Santana blinks. It is. The bike is the type of green that makes one think of sour apples that have been dunked into a vat of nuclear substance. It’s so green; it practically glows in the early morning light. The scripted chrome that reads ‘Ninja’ can barely be read on its bright background.
“Fuck yeah! No one else has the balls to ride this shit.”
“No one thinks as much of themselves as you do, Puck.” Santana shakes her head.
“I’m awesome.” Puck grins.
“No, you’re not. Don’t lie.” Santana winks, then remembers that Brittany is standing behind her. She moves out of the way and makes introductions.
“Is that the ZX-14R?” Brittany asks like it’s no big deal.
“Yeah, babe. Any time you want a ride, just let the Puckster know.” Puck winks. He would, that ass. Santana rolls her eyes.
“You ride?” Santana leans against the doorjamb of the shop, watching Brittany inspect Puck’s new toy.
“Crotch rockets?” Brittany laughs at Puck’s affronted squeak, “No. I mean, I know them well enough to do something impressive at work, if needed.”
“Work?” Puck scrunches his brow, “Oh! You’re that Brittany.”
“Which Brittany did you think I was?”
“Nah, I just thought you were Santana’s new girl or something.” Puck shrugs.
“Thanks Puck, glad to know you think I’m a slut.”
“A slut with taste.” Puck winks.
“I’ll just pretend like you’re not actually talking about me like I’m not here.” Brittany pokes Puck in the arm.
“Ouch, sorry.” Puck rubs his arm, “Hey, want a ride?”
“Is this a sex thing?” Brittany looks from Puck to Santana, who laughs.
“No, he just wants to show off his new toy.” Santana smiles with adoration at Puck, who is grinning like a kid on Christmas morning.
“Don’t you want to go?”
“No.” Santana stiffens and stands.
“She doesn’t ride anymore.” Puck provides.
“Puck.” There’s a threatening edge in Santana’s voice. She coughs and speaks again, her voice much closer to its normal octave, “Go, check out his toy. I’ve got to change before some customers get here and think I’ve completely lost it.
“’Tana, you never had it.” Puck winks and Brittany laughs.
“Well, okay, if you’re sure.” Brittany bites her bottom lip. Santana nods, unsure as to why Brittany was asking for permission.
“Go, ride that fourteen hundred four stroke like it’s meant to be ridden.” Santana smiles and waves them off with her hand.
When Santana hears Puck and Brittany get back, the shop is full, Tina and Becky are helping her hold down the fort, Sipping Jetstreams is playing in the background and Santana’s dressed in her customary work garb of well worn jeans and a purple, grey and white plaid flannel button down shirt. She looks up at the numbers of the large flat digital clock in the center of the wall of the shop that isn’t one giant window. It’s almost mid morning; Schue should be there soon to take over. The sound of a wave breaking sounds over the soundtrack of the surf film, indicating the front door being opened (Santana thought it was kind of cheesy, but after being caught unawares while reading by a customer too many times without it, it is a necessary evil and at least it’s not a fucking bell.). Santana looks up to see Brittany walk in, attempting to fix her helmet hair, and Puck following after.
“The hell did you go?” Santana laughs and the two approach her counter.
“Cruised down PCH,” Puck shrugs.
“I had to get him out of a speeding ticket in Dana Point.” Brittany rolls her eyes and laughs.
“Yeah, well.” Puck ruffles the hair on top of his head and grins.
“Sorry officer,” Brittany opens her eyes wide, seemingly making her irises even bluer, “It was my fault. You see, I’m just so worried about my sister, that I kept telling him to drive faster so we could get to the hospital sooner...”
“You’re something else, aren’t you?” Santana laughs.
“Yeah, something evil.” Puck grins. “It actually fucking worked.”
“No way.” Santana turns to Brittany in disbelief, “Damn you blondes. That shit never works for me.”
“Yeah, well, we’ve got to be good for something.” Brittany shrugs and looks up at the menu of the day, written in chalk, behind Santana’s head. “Can I get that Kona now, and a banana muffin?”
“You really did work for the mermaid.” Santana shakes her head.
“Why would I lie?” Brittany tilts her head and scrunches her brow.
“’Cause they’re trying to impress ‘Tana, for some reason.” Puck sticks out his tongue, a gesture that Santana swiftly returns. “Never works though, as soon as they order their coffee she can tell. Hell, I can tell.”
“Oh, that’s sad.”
“You’re in luck, Brittany, a fresh batch of muffins just came out of the oven and the LoCo taste of the day is being brewed as we speak.” Santana goes to fetch the items for Brittany and calls over her shoulder, “Puck, stayin’ or goin’?”
“Goin’.”
Santana nods and gets a thermos out of a cupboard, purposely picking the red one to clash with Puck’s new bike, and fills it up with coffee. She then grabs a mug and fills it up with the Kona blend and brings both over to the counter, along with Brittany’s muffin and a cinnamon raisin bagel for Puck.
“Thanks, San.” Puck leans over the counter and kisses Santana on the cheek, then turns to leave. “I’ll hit ya later.”
“Don’t get into too much trouble, ass.”
“Why is he going to hit you later?” Brittany looks at Santana quizzically before taking a bite of her muffin, “Oh my God, that is mouthgasmic.”
“Yup. We got it goin’ on.” Santana smirks and shrugs.
“You do. Can I, like, live here?” Brittany takes a sip of coffee and hums in pleasure. “Seriously, you put drugs in your products.”
“I like you.” Santana laughs.
“I like you too.” Brittany grins.
“C’mon, let’s get you started on that surfing tip.” Santana lifts the partition in the counter for Brittany to walk through and then offers her arm for Brittany to hold, once Santana’s closed the partition. “Hey, Chang, you cool till Schue gets here?”
“Yeah. Got it, Santana.” Tina nods and hands the customer at the counter their order.
Santana leads Brittany out through the back door of the kitchen and around the back to her garage, which sits separate from the main building. Not many people are allowed into the garage, it has become one of Santana’s hiding places. Not that it’s all that good of a hiding spot, people obviously know when she’s in there, but she’s lucky enough to have the sort of people in her life who know not to bother her when she’s in the garage unless it’s for something important. Santana doesn’t even remember the last time Puck had been in there.
She opens the door and flips on the light to her sanctuary, letting Brittany go in first through the threshold. Having a relative stranger enter her space is an unbelievably uncomfortable experience for Santana, but she tries to play it off like there’s nothing unusual about this moment. It’s just another garage, half full with surfboards and wetsuits, and the other portion housing a half built café cruiser with tools scattered on the floor around it. Santana ignores the pictures of her parents, Puck, Mikey and Quinn on the wall, pretending that they’re just random people intermixed with all the posters of perfect waves being surfed.
“This is so cool.” Brittany looks around at the garage, a delicate smile on her face.
“Thanks.” Santana shrugs, runs a hand through her hair and heads to the back, where the longest surfboards are lined up in their racks.
“Why do you have so many?” Brittany runs her hand along one of the shorter boards, cyan blue edges and only about six feet in length.
“It’s a hobby I dabbled in.” Santana shrugs, forcing herself to focus on the boards before her, trying to pick out the perfect one for Brittany to learn on. It’s not like it mattered all that much in the scheme of things, but Santana believed that the boards spoke to her and the one calling out Brittany’s name would be the one to make the process a whole lot easier for Brittany to learn. If Brittany’s first experience with surfing is a good one, then she’d be much more likely to continue on surfing, long after her movie finishes filming.
“You made these?” Brittany whips her attention to Santana, a hint of awe in her voice.
“Yeah, used to.”
“Wow.” A hand wraps around Santana’s bicep and squeezes, Brittany’s grip feels like it’s burning through the flannel of Santana’s shirt and Santana doesn’t know if it’s supposed to mean something or if she’s just that uncomfortable with someone being in the garage with her. Brittany distracts her thoughts with a whisper, “They’re beautiful.”
“I, uhm, yeah…purple.” Santana grabs a longboard with a purple surface from the rack in front of her and lays it down on the two sawhorses next to her. She grabs a rectangle block, about an inch thick and two inches wide, from the cubbyhole next to the horses. “I’ve gotta wax your board, it won’t be that long, but you might want to sit anyway.”
“Oh, okay.”
“I’m assuming you don’t have a board.” Santana unwraps the block and begins applying the wax in quick, short, back and forth motions along the surface. “Actually, I’m hoping that you don’t have one, ‘cause you really shouldn’t be trusting no retail bitch who’s just there to get you to buy shit you don’t need.”
“No, Quinn kind of warned me not to get one before talking to you.” Brittany shrugs.
“Quinn apparently talked a lot about me.” Santana tries to hide the annoyance in her tone, but she knows it slipped through. She’s still working on her more acidic personality traits.
“Oh, no. It’s not like she’s going around all willy nilly and pimping you out to people.” Brittany sits up on her stool, focusing her attention towards Santana. “It’s just that she was, well, she knows me.” Brittany shrugs. “Like, she was my first non-stunty or film related friend since moving out here from Ohio.”
“Ohio?” Santana looks up, surprise visibly apparent on her features.
“Yeah, a place that has weather.”
“Certainly explains how you’re living here, but have never surfed before.”
“I guess.” Brittany shrugs.
“Wait.” Santana puts down the wax and turns to Brittany, “Perhaps I should’ve asked this first, you can swim right?”
“No.” Brittany schools her features into a rueful look, before breaking out into laughter. “Oh, you should’ve seen your face! There are pools in Ohio, Santana.”
“Shut up.” Santana laughs and throws a small hand towel that had been lying on the floor next to her at Brittany. “I didn’t want to assume and get out there and then, like, suddenly you’re drowning or something.”
“I’d imagine that I wouldn’t get that far in my industry if I didn’t know how to swim.” Brittany plays with her hair, visibly trying to fight a smile from showing on her face.
“So, you were saying that Quinn’s your only friend?” Santana tries to change the subject. She picks the block of wax back up and continues applying it to the surfboard.
“Not my only friend, just the only one who realized that I might need certain assistance in some aspects of life.” Brittany shrugs. “So, when I mentioned to her my current situation, she informed me that I shouldn’t even step into a surf shop without you.”
“I knew there was a reason I kept her around.”
“It’s not ‘cause she’s hot?” Brittany smirks.
“Oh God no.” Santana shakes her head and looks to Brittany, “Well, I mean, yes. She’s very beautiful, but it’s not like that.”
“Good, ‘cause I think she has a thing for Puck.” Brittany nods.
“How much time do you spend with Quinn? I thought Puck and I were her only friends.”
“When I’m in town, I usually kidnap her for a weekend and take her up to my place in Arrowhead.” Brittany shrugs. She looks over to the other side of the shop, “That’s a nice bike you’ve got there.”
“Thanks.”
“Triumph, right?”
“Yup.” Santana’s movements become a bit jerkier in her application of the wax.
“Steve McQueen’s TT Special 650?”
“Yes.” Santana’s movements stop as she lifts her head to look at Brittany, “Most people don’t know that.”
“I’m not most people.” Brittany winks.
“That is definitely true.” Santana smiles and shakes her head. “The Great Escape was my Papi’s favorite movie.”
“He’s got awesome taste.”
“Yeah, he did.” Santana lowers her head and resumes preparing the surfboard. She knows she needs to deal with the loss of her parents, but talking about them to someone she’s just met…well, Santana’s just not ready for that yet.
She finishes preparing the board, stands up and moves over to the wall holding at least twenty wetsuits of various sizes. Santana looks at Brittany for a moment before looking back at the suits and choosing a suit and taking it off the rack.
“I’m assuming you don’t have a wetsuit either.”
“Wetsuit? But, it gets so warm outside.”
“Yeah, but the water pretty much stays at sixty degrees so…” Santana holds the suit out for Brittany to take.
“Oh.” Brittany takes the suit and looks at it.
“It’s clean, I promise. I kind of have this thing about cleanliness.”
“Oh, no. It’s not that. I just, uhm,” Brittany bites her lip. “Am I supposed to wear anything under it?
“That’s up to you.” Santana shrugs.
Brittany shrugs, lays the wetsuit over the surfboard and lifts her shirt up and over her head. Santana’s eyes widen at the realization that Brittany wasn’t wearing anything underneath, and was apparently going to change before her. Santana coughs and moves towards the door to the shop.
“I’m just, uh...” Santana coughs and shakes her head, wondering where this girl came from. “I’ll give you some privacy and go up and change into my own suit and be right down.”
-x-
Wetsuits aren’t sexy. They’re water dynamic and fit the body like a glove, but they always give the appearance of being bulky. Santana’s never really thought about it before. It’s just been a part of her life ever since her Papi took her on her first wave at seven months old (not that she actually remembers that). She notices it now, though. Now that Santana’s fully awake and has had her coffee, it’s helped her realize that Brittany isn’t some hallucination, Brittany is very much real, and Santana’s definitely attracted to her.
Santana’s never been more thankful for the full body wetsuits than she is right now on the beach with Brittany. It’s hard enough not getting distracted by Brittany’s smile, twinkling eyes and flowing hair, but if this was, like, Maui and they were just in bikini’s? Santana’s not sure she’d make it through the lesson without trying to kiss Brittany. It’s not a bad way of having a good time; Santana’s used the surf lesson technique many times to reel in many a person. She’s just trying to turn a new leaf, now. The random hookups never filled in the holes she was trying to fill, no matter how hot the person or fantastic the sex. So, the wetsuit will help Santana tame her libido, keep everything in check long enough for her to properly teach her student. She just wishes that she didn’t pick out that blue wetsuit instead of the traditional black, ‘cause the blue of the suit just seems to make Brittany’s matching colored eyes even more vivid.
“Are you trying to teach me telepathically?” Brittany’s voice seeps into Santana’s ears. Santana shakes her head, swearing that it was Brittany who had been in her head, using her eyes as some sort of trance inducers or something.
“Uh, no. Just trying to think of the best way to do this.” Santana smiles and tilts her head slightly, trying to sell her statement.
“Oh, okay. That would’ve been cool though. I could’ve brought you home to talk to my cat. I’m sure he gets bored trying to hold conversations with me when I can’t talk back to him.” Brittany scrunches her nose, “Well, not in my head at least.”
“Sorry?” Santana laughs and drops the surfboard down on the sand. “Do you work out?”
“Are you asking me on a date?” Brittany tilts her head; the afternoon sunlight reflecting off of her blonde hair temporarily blinds Santana.
“What?” Santana squeaks and takes a step back, “No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Please, I don’t need cheesy pick up lines to get dates.” Santana rolls her eyes and crosses her arms across her chest.
“I’m glad you know that.” Brittany winks. Santana shakes her head.
“I was just wondering if you do stuff like pushups and yoga? It’s not essential, you know, to surf, but it’ll help the process.”
“Oh, yeah. Totally.” Brittany nods.
“Cool. You ready?” Santana smiles and moves to the top of the board.
“Let’s do this thing.”
“Okay, so this is your board. This one is a longboard, they come in all sorts of sizes, you know, but this one is generally the easiest for people to learn on. It’s more forgiving and gives you more to work with than a short board.”
“Yeah, but they were the first, right?”
“Did you research this shit?” Santana laughs and Brittany gives a bashful shrug and smiles. “That stuff doesn’t matter right now, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Just go ahead and lie down on your board, Brittany.” Santana watches as Brittany seemingly rolls her body down on top of the purple board and then she points to a bright yellow stripe in the middle that runs the length of the board, “This stripe lets you know where the middle of the board is, you want to keep it in line with the middle of your body.”
“Why?” Brittany shifts over a bit, making sure she was aligned.
“It’s a balance thing. If you don’t have balance, things will go wrong, you know?”
“Like life.” Brittany nods, “Or flipping through a window.”
“Yes, like those, Yoda.” Santana laughs. “You want to make sure that your toes are at the back of your board, it’s like a sweet spot or whatever. It just helps.”
“Do this often?” Brittany winks.
“Shut up.” Santana laughs, “I’ve no clue why Quinn sent you to me, but whatever. Put your hands to your chest like a military pushup except a little wider, right, and then push up. That gets you to your knees, yeah. Like that.” Santana nods and smiles encouragingly at Brittany who is hovering on her arms and knees above the board, “From that, you want to bring your leg forward, lining up your foot with your hands in the middle of the board and using your back foot to stand up.”
“I think Quinn knew that you wouldn’t try and take advantage of me.” Brittany says as she stands up, with good balance, on the board and smiles at Santana.
“This method is, like, for beginners. Like, totally basic, just to get people up and riding a wave. I’ll teach you how to pop up later, Britt.” Santana coughs, “Brittany, I mean. It’ll look better in the film, a lot less clumsy.”
“Britt.” Brittany smiles and stands up straight on her board, looking at Santana.
“No, you want to stay low on your board. The lower the better, what?” Santana looks up at Brittany when the girl doesn’t squat back down.
“You called me Britt.” Her smile is even larger now as she looks down at a confused looking Santana, “That means you like me.”
“Or I’m just lazy.” Santana smirks, raising an eyebrow.
“Nope.” Brittany shakes her head, “You like me. You want to keep me. You gave me a nickname. We only name the things we want to keep around.”
“It just slipped out.” Santana was sure her cheeks were darkening out of embarrassment. She felt like she was spinning out of control underwater and Brittany was the wave.
“Okay, San.” Brittany winks and bends her knees, “Like this?”
“Uh, yeah.” Santana brushes her hair out of her face, trying to fight the grin that wants to place itself on her face, “You want to make sure that the line passes through the middle of the arches on your feet. Then, just remember to keep your knees bent and have your arms out for balance. The lower you are, the better your control is over the board.”
“Sounds like it’s a good thing I’ve got strong thighs.”
“I’m sorry?” Santana blinks.
“Like, it’s good that I do a lot of squats in my regular workout, right? It’ll help me stay low and in control.”
“Let’s just focus on standing up first, Britt.” Santana nods.
“And here I was mainly doing it to have junk in the trunk.”
“You can’t possibly real.” Santana laughs.
“Believe it, babe.” Brittany winks, “Now, let’s get on some waves!”
Santana carries the board to the water for Brittany, letting her get used to the water, and the waves crashing against her, without having to concentrate on not losing the board. It doesn’t actually take that long for Brittany to stand up, even shorter for her to remain standing after realizing that attempting to bounce, clap and shouting, “Look Santana! I’m doing it!” wasn’t conducive to staying up on the board. Something told Santana that if Brittany were given enough time, she’d somehow figure out how to get away with it. Once Brittany figures out how to stand without any problems, Santana stops paying as much attention on the technique of it all and begins body surfing long with her.
It always felt amazing to be on the ocean, being carried by this sheer mass of endless energy. Santana doesn’t really care that she didn’t have a board beneath her feet, being on the ocean meant more than that now, more than having to surf every wave, constantly looking for something bigger and better - for that illusive perfect wave. Sure, the bigger waves gave her more to play with; more of a challenge, but it makes her just as happy to ride these one-foot waves with her body. Santana gets why her Papi taught her now, she lost sight of it for a while before she stopped - before everything went to hell, when all she was worried about was showing the boys on her high school surf team that she was the one to beat. ¬
Santana hopes that Brittany’s not just doing this for a job. The woman is a natural. Santana has seen many a jock attempt to surf, athletic ability doesn’t mean shit sometimes. She’s glad that it’s working for Brittany. That Brittany is giggling and laughing and apparently having a good time, even attempting to put her toes on the nose. Santana shakes her head; leave it to this enigma of a woman to have no fear of failure. She decides to just float for a bit, looking up at the cloudless sky and letting the ocean rock her like a baby. Santana learned, after ending up way too far down the beach than she’d originated, how to allow herself to float without getting carried away by the waves. She doesn’t want to go too far now, especially with a beginner learning how to surf. If Brittany managed to slice her head open with a fin, and Santana was too far down the beach to do anything, she wouldn’t be able to live with herself. So, she floats, but keeps her ears open for Brittany’s splashes (or giggles), using Brittany as a tether. It was surprisingly easy for Santana to do for some reason. Whenever she did this with Puck or Quinn, she’d inevitably end up further down the beach than intended, having confused them with surfers or swimmers that were just passing by. There was something unique about Brittany that made it easy for Santana to zone in and concentrate on, Santana just doesn’t know what it is.
“Hey.” A whisper says next to her ear and Santana nearly has a heart attack at the sudden closeness of someone near her. Maybe she was wrong about it being easy to focus on Brittany if the woman was able to sneak up on her like that.
“Whoa.” Santana places a hand on Brittany’s shoulder and moves her legs in the motion of an eggbeater, trying to regain her breath and balance from shooting up so fast.
“Sorry.” Brittany giggles, “You okay? I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”
“I’m fine, just need to learn how to breathe again.” Santana takes in a huge breath of air and coughs, “Shit.”
“It’s just that we’ve been here for hours now,” Brittany moves a strand of hair out of Santana’s face. “I’m kinda sore and tired and hungry.”
“Hours?” Santana looks at her clunky white watch, the numbers beneath the G-Shock logo indicating that they had, in fact, been out on that ocean for hours. “Shit, sorry.”
“No, it’s good. I think I learned a lot.” Brittany smiles, “The basic mechanics, I mean. I was just worried that you were going to get carried away by the ocean before our second lesson.”
“Nah, Mama takes care of me, always brings me back to dry land.” Santana taps the top of the water with her hand and winks at Brittany. She tilts her head and starts slowly swimming to shore, Brittany following right behind her.
“Mama?”
“My mom used to refer to the ocean that way.” Santana shrugs, “It’s not like she was religious or anything, so I don’t know if it was in reference to a particular religion or spirituality or if she was just referring to Mother Nature.” Santana picks up the purple board and heads towards the stairs of the beach. She feels Brittany lift up the other end, making it lighter and less cumbersome. “It just always seemed right for me, you know?”
“Respect your mother.” Brittany nods.
“’Cause if Mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.”
“It makes sense. Like, if she’s having a bad mood, the sky’s all dark and gloomy and her waves all sorts of big and scary, you might want to stay away.”
“Yeah or extra cautious when you go out.”
“I have to do that with stunts sometimes.”
“Yeah, like what?”
“Well, you just need to always be aware of what’s going on around you, you know?” Brittany shrugs, “Like, it might not be the best idea to jump off a helicopter during a hurricane.”
“You’ve done that?” Santana blinks.
“Not during a hurricane, I wasn’t about to get on that helicopter.” Brittany shakes her head and tugs the board to stop Santana from walking. She switches the surfboard to her other arm. “The director was an asshole who kept trying to insist that it’d make the shot better. I explained to him that if he didn’t postpone the shoot, he’d have a hard time finding stunties that were willing to do his films.”
“Whoa, are you some, like, big name or something?”
“Not really,” Brittany laughs, then nudges Santana to continue walking. “I was totally bullshitting.”
“Nice!” Santana laughs.
“Well, I mean, I am friends with some people you’ve probably heard of, but that’s business. They’re not like Quinn, you know?”
“Yeah, I think I get it.”
“Though if they heard that this director was willing to kill his stunt people to get a shot, you can bet they’d be all over him; blacklisted, no matter how much money his films earn.”
“Jumping out of a helicopter though, that must’ve been crazy.” Santana opens the door to her garage.
“That’s not the hard part,” Brittany shrugs and helps Santana put the board away. “It’s the landing on a mark, and looking pretty while doing it, that tends to cause issues.”
“Crazy.”
“Yup.” Brittany grins, “Hey, I’ve gotta go. There’s a meeting with the director that I need to get ready for, but thanks for today.” Brittany leans over and kisses Santana on the cheek, “You’re really sweet, being all nice and teaching me how to surf and everything.”
“No problem, Britt.” Santana knows she’s blushing now, but she’s hoping that the heat on her skin is from being in the sun for so long. “Just drop by whenever you want your next lesson, I’m usually around.”
“I will, if just for the coffee.” Brittany winks.
“You got it.” Santana’s eyes widen as she sees Brittany reach for the zipper of her wetsuit. “I’ll just, uh, let you be. Go ahead and leave the suit on the bench when you’re done. I’ll take care of it later.”
“Okay.” Brittany chuckles. “See you later Santana.”
“Uh, yeah. Bye, Brittany.”
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