fic: Whipped (Part 1/2)
Title: Whipped (Part 1/2)
Author: fullyajar
Pairings: Brittany/Santana
Spoilers: None.
Summary: Santana comes to Brittany's little sister's rescue, and Brittany is very grateful. For this prompt at the Glee Kink Meme.
Rating: NC-17. Smut (with plot!).
Disclaimer: I own nothing. If I did, Glee might just become The Brittana Show.
Word count: ~ 10,000 (6,000 plot, 4,000 smut, divided in two parts. Good ratio? ;P)
A/N: I wrote 5000 words on my iPad on vacation before I got back to the real world and wrote the rest. This might be the result of extended separation from my girlfriend, which means that I’ll probably be writing a lot more to ease the sexual frustration when we move 4 hours away from each other in September. Silver lining, perhaps?
"So then," Santana asks, lips twitching into a smile, "it has come to this."
Brittany nods seriously up at her from her spot on the carpet in front of the TV, and lifts her hands to display two DVDs
"You must choose. " Brittany replies solemnly.
Santana shakes her head forlornly, mimicking Brittany's serious expression. It's Friday night, and they've just come home from extended Cheerios practice to find an empty house and a note from Callie, Brittany's kid sister, saying she's out watching a movie with a boy named Seth. With both Brittany and Santana too exhausted to do anything but fall on the couch in a huff and a tangle of limbs, the choice of activity was easy enough: movie. Santana had begrudgingly dragged herself and Britt off the couch, thinking that that part of 'watching a movie' would be the part that would require most effort, but boy, was she wrong. They'd been debating which movie of Brittany's extended collection to watch for the past half an hour. Discarding non-animated, overly long, or remotely troubling films (for the sake of Brittany’s mental age, personality, and attention span), they were now left with two options: Despicable Me and Megamind.
"Gosh, I don't know, Britt," Santana says carefully, biting her lip dramatically. "They're both so good..."
"I know," Britt exclaims, "But so different!"
"Yeah, this one is about a criminal Pixar animated villain with minions who ends up just needing some lovin' to lose his touch and find his humanity, and this one is about..." she tilts her head thoughtfully, hiding a grin. "Oh wait, they're both about that..."
"Are not!" Brittany exclaims crossly, and then continues in a matter-of-fact tone: "They're totally different. Despicable Me shrinks stuff; Megamind freezes stuff. Different!"
"Ah, right..." Santana replies seriously, nodding, but she can't hide her amusement and soon her grins breaks through and she starts laughing. Brittany throws a pillow at her, and she ducks with a giggle.
"Sorry, B, it's just that these movies are so typically you...”
Brittany huffs. "I let you choose them -"
"- we chose them together!" Santana reminds her. Brittany continues with a silencing glare at Santana.
"... because I thought you would ifentidy -"
"- identify," Santana corrects. Brittany shushes her.
"Stop interrupting!" she commands, and Santana falls quiet again, although her smile still stretches across her face. "As I was saying... I let you choose them because I thought you would identify -" she exaggerates the word with an annoyed eye roll, but then continues with a wicked smirk, "- with the villains."
Santana raises an eyebrow. "Why?"
Brittany shifts her position and explains, “Well, they're both smart and awesome and get everything they want."
Santana smiles smugly and nods in agreement, but Brittany continues. "But they’re both also a bit evil."
Santana's face falls. "You think I'm evil?"
Brittany laughs as though it's the most ridiculous thing in the world. "Of course not, you are the sweetest. But you used to be..."
That's kind of true, Santana concedes with a bob of her head.
"…until I came along." Brittany grins, puffing out her chest proudly. Santana guffaws in disagreement. There's no way being with Brittany has made her anything but more confident about her stable position in the social hierarchy of high school and more snarky now that the retorts are coming from wit and power rather than from being in the closet. She starts to interrupt, but another warning glare shuts her up. Brittany smiles and bobs her head as though this proves her point, and continues, ignoring Santana's dissatisfied expression.
"It's just like the villains," Brittany continues. "The dark hole in their heart is filled with love and cookies - " Santana raises an eyebrow again, "- and they turn nice. But -" she adds quickly when Santana begins to protest to the comparison, "According to Puck with you it’s different because you’re not nice, but..." she searches briefly for the word, and Santana is too curious to interrupt her again. Suddenly Brittany sits up proudly again and says matter-of-factly, "whipped."
Santana stays still for a second, an expression of disbelief suspended on her face, and then she lets out a high-pitched squeal and launches herself off the couch onto Brittany. "You!"
Brittany squeaks in delight and surprise as Santana pins her arms above her head and starts tickling her. She's not even putting up a fight, because, honestly, teased-Santana is just too much fun - huffy, playfully vengeful, and (in some situations) extremely easy to tease further, albeit in a completely different way...
Brittany squirms and squeals beneath her as Santana straddles Brittany's hips and tickles her until she's panting for breath. "Say Uncle!" she challenges, and Brittany gains control of her breath long enough to laugh and ask, "Uncle who? Uncle Norman? Uncle Kendra?"
This time it's Santana who cracks up, and she releases her hold on Brittany. "No, saying uncle means you yield, give up," she explains, and then adds, "And by the way, just because Uncle Ken dresses up as a drag queen slash transvestite slash transsexual for Carnival in Holland does not mean that he is now Uncle Kendra. Dutch people go a little crazy for Carnival."
"Oh, right."
Santana's giggle turns into an easy smile as she settles her hands next to Brittany's face and leans down over her. Brittany smiles up brightly at her and loops her freed arms around Santana neck.
"You're weird," Santana whispers as she leans down and brushes her lips over Brittany's. Not quite a kiss, but a promise of one. "And totally wrong about me being like the movie villains," she adds, when Brittany's smiles widens knowingly, as though she had planned this from the start and Santana is again proving her right. “I am the most badass bitch in school.” Definitely not whipped.
"I think I may be wrong too, because I've never whipped you..." Brittany trails off, but then a bright twinkle appears in her eyes. "We can try that sometime though."
Santana smiles, admiring how easily and quickly Brittany’s mind goes from innocent to sexually curious. "Being whipped means being completely controlled by your girlfriend, being led around like a puppy and being such a pussy about it that you don’t even realize it.”
"Oh." A pause. "Well, then I wasn’t wrong."
Santana lets out another scandalized shriek and pulls Brittany’s arms down from her neck and presses them on the floor with one hand. With her free hand, she attacks Brittany’s armpits, and within a few seconds, Brittany is whimpering in a half-aroused whisper, “Uncle Ken! Uncle Ken!” Santana grins. At least Brittany listened to half her explanation.
She lets go of Brittany’s hands and studies her as the blonde pants beneath her. It’s not the first time she’s hovered over her like this, the blonde out of breath and blushing, and, if Santana can do anything about it, it definitely won’t be the last time. Whipped, she thinks with a disbelieving mental huff. Yeah right. Who’s always on top? Who’s got their girlfriend completely trapped and panting here? Who basically rules the school? Me.
Brittany’s breathing has slowed down and she smiling up at Santana’s smug expression, as though she knows exactly what’s going through her mind. Santana smiles down at her playfully. “You’re causing quite a lot of trouble aren’t you?”
Brittany just smirks impishly.
“Well... I'll forgive you - this time - because you're also pretty cute and I kinda like you." She smiles teasingly when Brittany scrunches up her lips with playful distaste.
"Kinda?"
"Kinda."
Brittany's frowns smoothes and she tilts her face slightly, nudging her nose against Santana's, and invites her for a kiss. Santana takes it. Their lips press softly together, and Santana tilts her head to gain better access as she sucks Brittany's top lip lightly into her mouth. Brittany pushes up and presses closer, her hips tilting of their own accord and her fingers drawing slow patterns on Santana skin at the nape of her neck. She flicks her tongue past Santana's bottom lip and Santana sighs with pleasure.
After a minute, Brittany nudges her away and smiles at the sight of Santana hovering over her, eyes still closed and lips slightly parted, looking as though she's just had a little bite of heaven and she's in no rush to come back to reality. Brittany twirls a lock of hair at the back of Santana's neck, and the brunette opens her eyes.
"Still just kinda?" she asks with a winning smile.
Santana grins. "Maybe a little more than just 'kinda'..."
Brittany holds Santana's gaze. "Say you love me."
"I love you," Santana replies instantly.
Brittany giggles. "See, whipped."
Santana gives in, and just smiles. "You're incorrigible."
Brittany scrunches up her nose. "I don't know what that means, but I don't think I want to be corriged."
Santana smiles wider. "Don't worry, you won't be." She presses a quick smooch to Brittany's lips, and then jumps up and picks up the DVDs. "Now, movie. I say, Megamind. Yesh?"
"Yesh," Brittany replied cheerfully as she collects herself from the floor and settles onto the couch.
"Great." Santana pops in the DVD, selects the film, and settles into Brittany's waiting arms. She snuggles back into the blonde's embrace when Brittany pulls a blanket over their spooning bodies, and Brittany kisses her sweetly on the cheek. Santana can still feel the imprint of the kiss long after it has dried from her cheek, and when she falls asleep a few minutes into the film, the feeling stays with her well into her dream.
-
"San."
It's the tone of Brittany's voice more than her name that wakes her; it's uncertain, worried, and so unlike to the usual, easy-going if slightly oblivious sound of Brittany's voice, that Santana is instantly awake. Brittany is standing by the open window, peeking through the blinds as the wind blows them back and forth and gently knocks the bottom against the windowsill. The blonde looks back anxiously.
"What's wrong, B?" Santana asks groggily as she pulls herself slowly off the couch and straightens her unkempt hair and uniform, her limbs still heavy with sleep despite the fact that her mind, focused on Brittany, is quite awake.
"I think Callie and Seth are fighting."
"Oh, she's back?" Santana asks happily. She likes Callie. The girl, sure to be a future Cheerio, has the beauty, body, and happy go lucky attitude typical of the Pierces, and although her wit is a bit less... quirky than that of Brittany, she is never short of a comeback in response to Santana's snarks. At the time unbeknownst to Santana, Callie was the first person Brittany told about Santana, and the first person to look past the obvious unexpected aspects of Brittany's object of affection (namely, the fact that she was a girl) and judge Santana worthy for her sister by her unparalleled loyalty and love for Brittany. Santana had luckily passed the test, and they had been friendly ever since.
"Who's she with? Who is this Seth?"
Brittany shrugs. "Just some boy from school she's been dating for a few weeks. She hasn't told me about him much."
"Seth... Seth... It rings a bell, doesn't it?"
"Mmm... Just from The OC..." Brittang murmurs absentmindedly.
"Is it Seth Mason? The 10th grader?"
"Yeah, I think so." Brittany leans up on her tiptoes to gain a better view outside the window. Santana comes closer, mimicking Brittany.
"Puck knows him. Told me about him some time. Big man on campus, popular, you know? Football, baseball... Tea Kwon Do with Mr. Freeborn Thursday nights..."
Brittany looks up, shocked. "I thought they cancelled that when Yun Soo popped out his shoulder?"
"Guess not. Saw them training yesterday. I think he's a blue belt."
"How good is that?"
"Three before black."
Faintly, Santana can hear raised voices through the open window, and she peeks outside. She can just see the wave of Callie's blonde hair through the passenger side window of a car parked on the curb of Brittany's street. Callie moves in quick jerks as she talks, and Santana thinks Brittany is right that the conversation is at least more than just animated. She looks irritated.
"Can you hear what they're saying?" she asks Brittany. The blonde cocks her head like a bloodhound and starts reciting.
"... How... Fair... Not... No... No... You... I didn't... Not true... Looking..."
Santana snorts. "That's complete gibberish, Britt."
"Well, it's what they're saying," Brittany counters, somewhat indignant.
"I want to know what they're fighting about."
Brittany scrunches up her face in thought. "Maybe they said it's not fair that Seth is not a no-no because they didn't thinking it was true to look... Or something."
Santana raises an eyebrow. Typically Brittany. "Again, complete gibberish."
Before Brittany can defend her translation of the argument, the passenger side door opens, and Callie climbs out of the car. Brittany immediately begins reciting what she hears, but Santana shushes her quickly; she can hear them perfectly now.
"- going. I don't wanna fight anymore." Well. That was informative, Santana thinks sarcastically. She pulls the blinds down further to see what’s happening, and Brittany crowds close behind her.
"Now you're leaving?" It's Seth talking. Santana can just see a hand gripping the steering wheel and another resting on the now empty passenger seat. His knuckles whiten as he clenches his fist in anger. "Wouldn't have been easier if you'd just left at the movies, before I paid for everything, huh? Except the fucking popcorn of course." Seth's voice is raised, and there's a snide edge to it that makes Santana's skin crawl.
"Seth, I already told you -" Callie calls, not quite as loud as Seth, but still angry.
"Well, I still don't get it. Stupid me huh? Idiot Seth, takes so long to get anything through his thick skull." Santana's grits her teeth at his taunting tone, and clenches her fists to keep from intervening. Brittany glances at her quickly, but then looks back at the scene. Come on, Callie, Santana urges in her head. Don't let him talk to you like that.
"Now, since I still don't get it, how about you come and explain it to me again? Mmm? You owe me that, at least."
Callie huffs irately, and reaches into the car to grab her purse. "Goodnight."
"Hey! I'm not done talking to you yet!" Seth yells, and even before Santana sees his arm shoot out to grab her wrist, the hairs on the back of her neck have raised up in alarm. She tenses her shoulders, ready to bolt to the lawn and pry his fingers off her, but a hand on her arm from Brittany stills her. Santana glances up and sees Brittany's worried frown but she understands her unspoken words, ever afraid of conflict, pleading her not to fight.
"Ssh," she whispers to Brittany, both soothing and commanding, and slips quickly out from under her hand. The blonde takes one last quick look outside as Seth's furious voice ("Come on, I just want to talk") and the sound of a car door opening and slamming shut carries to the window, but when they both hear Callie cry out in pain, Brittany is barely a step behind Santana as the brunette races to the front door and out to the street. Santana looks back briefly at Brittany, and her face has lost all traces of fear or uncertainty, and all she sees is determination. It’s exactly what she feels - with an added dose of anger - and her feet carry her outside quickly.
The scene before her barely registers in her mind before Santana has sprung into action, but she doesn't need to see Callie cowering away from Seth against the car, her wrists locked tightly in his fists as he leans up close to her and backs her against the passenger side door, to be able to understand Callie's cries or Seth's replies.
"Seth! Let go! Stop it, let me go!"
"Calm down! Why are you - I'm not doing anything. I just want to talk!"
"Stop!”
" - just to talk to you - stop struggling already!"
If she didn't have enough to boil her blood already, it's Callie's cry of pain at Seth's last words that sends her completely over the edge, and before she knows it, Santana has jumped on his back and locked her arm around his neck.
"What the fuck?!" he spits out in surprise.
Her legs dangle unsteadily below her for a second (he's much taller than she is) until gravity lends her a hand and her weight pulls her down enough to get control over the lock. It's not particularly graceful or skillful, for that matter, and her position briefly reminds her of the ridiculous spider monkey scene from Twilight, of all things, but if his protests and sputtering are any indication, the 'spidermonkey lock' is definitely effective.
There's a flash of blonde hair past Seth's shoulder in front of her as Brittany springs into action and pulls Callie out of harm’s way. Brittany has Callie. Santana’s mind soars with adrenaline, but she registers that much. Brittany has Callie, safe.
There's a sound, a word, and when she realizes it's coming from Seth, she instinctively tightens her hold and cuts him off. Still, she understood it well enough: a low, livid gurgle of “Get the fuck off me”. Seth has recovered from his surprise enough to start talking and struggling, and suddenly his hands come up to her arm around his neck and digs deep crescents of nails into her skin. She winces and flexes her arm, but when he takes a step back, tries to shake her off, and staggers, she lets go and lands firmly on her feet.
Seth doubles over, away from her, leaning against the car and coughing. Santana moves quickly in Brittany's direction. The tall blonde has a protective arm around her sister, who is hunched down slightly and has tears in her eyes.
"Are you okay?" Santana demands, taking one of her hands gingerly. Callie nods, shaken, and Brittany tightens her hug protectively, glancing in Seth's direction. Callie rubs her wrists. Santana can already see bruises forming. She clenches her jaw and fists. Little shithead.
As though on cue, Seth coughs and manages to catch his breath enough to wheeze out, "Bitch..."
It's the final straw for Santana, and she whirls on him instantly.
"What was that? I didn’t quite catch that." Her voice is even, steady, and pissed off as hell. Adrenaline is seeping out of her system, and it’s in the post-rush moments that her mind and sharp tongue really kick in - and kick hard.
Seth rubs his neck, and shoots daggers at her with his glare. "I called you a bitch, bitch."
Santana rolls her eyes subtly with annoyance. It’s not even a fair fight, she thinks with a twinge of disappointment. Instead of showing it, she claps her hands lightly. “Oh, how original! Really. Just bravo.” She tilts her head questioningly, a hint of an encouraging smile on her face. “I bet you worked on that one for ages, big boy. Got any other ones? Come on, shock me, say something intelligent."
Seth clenches his jaw at her demeaning tone, and starts to straighten up, shaking off the ache in his neck. Santana takes a step forward. Almost striking distance. He notices, and tenses his shoulder warningly.
"You better watch it, I do Tae Kwon Do."
"Oh, I know," she says icily. He tenses at the change of tone from mocking to dangerously cold, uncertain of how to handle her cool, calm demeanor. Good, she thinks, and pushes the wave of rage threatening to boil over any minute again down further. Her adrenaline may have abated now that Callie is at least safe from harm, but she's in no way done with this dick.
Seth's eyes glance past her, at Callie, as though looking for help or a way out, and Santana's rage threatens to overwhelm her. How dare you look at her, you asshole? She takes another step forward, striking distance, and barks angrily. "Yo, dipshit, over here." He looks back immediately and is shocked to see how close she is. His arms tense into fighting position, knuckles locked at hip height. Santana reigns back her fury, and smiles icily.
"You're not going to hit a girl are you?"
"No, but a bitch like you is fair game if you ask me.”
“Well, I didn’t, and I’ve been called worse by better,” she retorts without hesitation.
He starts to reply, but she cuts him off with a quickly raised finger and a hint of a steely smile.
"Let me tell you something. I'm from Lima Heights Adjacent. Do you know what we use as summer scarves in Lima Heights Adjacent?" He stares at her blankly. "Tae Kwon Do belts."
Seth's eyebrows knit in confusion and he shuffles his weight uncertainly. Santana smirks, glad to see her flip-flop approach is at least confusing him.
"Yup, ranking belts. Yellow, orange, green, brown, black, all colors. Just wrap them right around our neck, you'd be surprised how fashionable they look." She gestures vaguely with her hands, tilting her hip disarmingly. "And you wanna know where we get them?"
Seth glances uncertainly around. He has his back against the car, which from a fighting standpoint isn't a bad place to be, but he's suddenly aware of three of four open windows in the neighborhood with watching, curious neighbors drawn by the noise. There's no way he can justify attacking Santana now. He can only defend. Good, Santana thinks, and she drops her playful, taunting manner. Another step, and she's close enough to feel his nervous breathing on her face, tilted up at him challengingly.
"We get them from the bodies of little dipshits like you before we dump them in Westside Bay and let them go swimming with the fishes." Seth's eyebrows twitch in a mixture of fear and disbelief. "And you know what? I look great in blue."
With that, she rams up her knee and gives a satisfied smirk when it lands right between his legs. He cries out in pain and doubles over, but before he even has the chance to grab at the bruised area, Santana pushes with all her strength against his shoulder and pins him against the car. He squeals pathetically and his face contorts with pain. Santana matches it with equal rage as she lets go the floodgates she's been holding and releases all her wrath on him.
"Now, how about you take your punkass, backstreet moves back to where you came from afores I strangle you with your own, evidently undeserved, blue belt and use it as a fashion statement at the McKinley High Junior Dance?!"
Seth hunkers down against the car, hands clamped between his legs, gulping air into his lungs, and Santana leans down next to him and hisses ferociously into his ear. "Don't ever come anywhere near Callie again. If you so much as look at her in school, I will do everything in my power to make the rest of your high school experience a living hell. If you get up the balls to try to call her, I’ll relieve you of them. If you’re stupid enough to talk to her… I’ll personally pay for your funeral. Got it?"
Seth nods frantically, still too out of breath to speak. Santana smirks with satisfaction and shoves him threateningly one more time. He scrambles up instantly and backs away, out of danger, hands still clutching his crotch.
"Go now, git!" she yells for good measure, and within seconds, his car is revved up and speeding down the road. Santana looks after him with a satisfied smirk.
Brittany is simultaneously appalled and amazed. She still has her arm around Callie, pulling her little sister close and out of danger, but whether the danger was Seth alone or Santana's unexpected ruthlessness, she's not quite sure. Santana's reaction completely shocked her, and she stood open-mouthed as Santana ripped Seth apart. She's a pacifist to the core, but watching Santana... She was proud as hell.
Callie, meanwhile, is completely stunned. She’s always liked Santana; the sharp wit she started to tone down against Callie lately as the two became closer; the way Santana seems to transform into a different person when she’s around Brittany, all her bravado and toughness melting and leaving her utterly exposed and comfortable; but mostly, she’d been happily surprised at how protective Santana was about Brittany. How she consciously used her popularity as a shield - not around herself, but around Brittany, protecting her from any snide comments or insults sent their way and comforting the blonde by telling her they weren’t meant for them. How she instantly puts herself in harm’s way for Brittany’s sake, be it to catch a slushie in the face or the impact of a shove in line at a movie theater. Most of all, Callie had been surprised at how Santana never hesitated to even raise her voice against her, Callie, if she stepped out of line against Brittany, as sisters do. Still, she’d never expected that Santana’s protective instincts could be triggered so quickly to protect not just Brittany, but herself, Callie. She stares at Santana with new admiration and thanks, her knight in shining armor.
Santana takes a calming breath in and shakes her body to rid herself of the tension built up from the confrontation. There are crescent shaped welts rising on the skin of her forearm, and her head is pounding from the rapid rush of adrenaline, but she feels fucking awesome. The smirk widens in her face, and she skips back almost cheerfully to where Brittany and Callie are watching her. It's only when she sees their expressions that her face falls uncertainly.
"What?"
Brittany just shakes her head in amazement, eyes wide and searching. Callie, on the other hand, finds her voice, but her words are almost as much gibberish as Brittany's not too long ago.
"That was...," she starts an awed whisper. "I don’t even... He was… How did you...?" she stops and smiles crookedly at her broken sentences. She looks back at Brittany. "Did you see him run?"
Brittany nods weakly and continues staring at Santana.
Santana grins, crinkling her nose with ill-concealed pride. "Let's put some ice on your wrists," she offers, and lightly takes Callie's hand to lead her inside. Brittany remains motionless, only her eyes following Santana in wonder. "BritBrit, come," Santana commands, and the blonde complies instantly.
Once inside and with a pack of frozen peas pressed firmly against Callie's wrists, Santana's mood sobers.
"What happened?" she asks carefully, settling in on a chair across from the couch where Brittany and Callie are huddled close. Brittany has been brushing her hand over Callie's hair for the past few minutes, smoothing the stray strands down and giving comfort in the process. Callie doesn’t really look like she needs it, but her face falls at Santana’s question.
“We went to the movies, the new spider man one. He drove me there, paid for tickets, held my hand, it was all fine."
"How long have you been going out?" Santana interrupts.
"Five weeks. This was our fourth date. Last time didn't go so well, but I thought this would be better." Santana nods, inviting Callie to go on. She takes a breath and describes how the guy behind the counter of the popcorn and refreshment stand had flirted with her and refused to take her money for popcorn, and how Seth had flipped out about it. "He accused me of flirting with the guy to get the popcorn, and said that he was supposed to be treating me to this date and that now this guy had stolen that from him and that somehow that was my fault..." she trails off. "I don't even know, he just completely overreacted. Refused to talk to me throughout the whole film, but when it was done, I could see he'd spent the whole time working up what to say and how to explode everything in my face. Car ride back was not too fun..."
Santana snorts cynically. "I bet it wasn't." They fall into silence. Callie breaks it.
“He’s an idiot.”
“You can say that again,” Santana agrees instantly. “But I don't think he's idiotic enough to try to contact you again. If he does... Just give me a call, and I'll clear things up for him, get it through his 'thick skull'." She mimics Seth's voice and mannerisms at the end, and Callie smiles.
"That was freaking badass, what you did to him."
Santana smiles a lopsided smile kept from stretching into a full, self-satisfied grin only by the sober circumstances of her victory. "I try," she says with a wider smile.
“No, seriously,” Callie insists. “I know I should be sad about all this, and I kind of am, but I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been there.”
Brittany squirms uncomfortably in her seat. I don’t want to think about that, the movement says clearly, and Santana lays a comforting hand on her knee. “Don’t worry, BritBrit, I was there. It’s all okay now.”
“He’s not,” Callie says with a smirk. “Did you hear him squeal?”
Brittany smiles timidly, and giggles, and Santana relaxes. Despite her open nature, Brittany can be difficult to read. Her laugh, and the adoring twinkle in her eyes as she turns them to Santana and smiles gratefully, are enough to put Santana at ease that - although Brittany avoids it like the plague - her violence and ferocity in protection of Callie were appreciated.
She sits back in her chair as Callie babbles on about Santana’s epic crotch-ram and vicious, vicious words, but she’s barely listening because Brittany hasn’t taken her eyes off her. She nods now and then to Callie’s story, but the grateful smile on her face had shifted, somehow. It takes Santana a moment to realize, but when she sees Brittany’s eyes flit down quickly across her body and sees her hips shift subtly on the couch as she crosses her legs, she gets it: Brittany is checking her out, and if the way she licks her lips is any indication, she likes what she sees. Santana smirks and crosses her arms proudly, smugly, holding Brittany’s gaze but refusing to return or react to the lust reflected in the blonde’s eyes.
Suddenly, Callie cries out in alarm. “Santana! Your arm!”
Santana looks down at her forearm in surprise. The crescent indents of Seth’s nails, eight in two rows of four, have raised to dangerous looking red welts, surrounded by a ring of blue bruise. The welts where Seth’s index fingers dug in have a line of broken skin, and a rim of dried blood lines the swollen wound.
“Oh… It’s fine. I barely feel it.” She shrugs disinterestedly, but neither Brittany or Callie will have it.
“I’ll get some bruise-soothing ointment and a Little Miss Sunshine pack,” Callie offers instantly as Brittany leans forward and fusses over Santana’s arm, gently cradling it and frowning as though Santana’s pain is her own. Santana smiles proudly at the battle scars and the way Brittany is worrying over her. Battle scars are awesome.
Brittany lightly runs her fingers past the bruises, barely skimming the skin, but Santana’s face twitches with a pained expression when she tried to brush off the dried blood.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Brittany whispers instantly, but Santana just shrugs.
“Doesn’t hurt.”
Brittany cocks her head with a chastising expression. “Yes, it does.”
Santana holds her gaze stubbornly, but then gives in. “Maybe a little, yeah.”
Brittany is quiet for a minute, and then her hands still their careful ministrations as well. Santana looks at her with curiosity, but Brittany refuses to meet her gaze.
“That was really great, what you did,” she says softly after a minute. Santana just smiles, waiting for Brittany to go on. Instead of speaking, she grabs Santana’s hand and pulls her close so suddenly that it’s only because of Santana’s surprise and resistance that their lips don’t collide to the point of pain. Instead, their lips meet with just the right kind of pressure. The kind that sends a sigh of surprise out of Santana’s mouth. The kind that forces their tongues to brush past the other’s lips. The kind that pushes Santana further back in her chair as Brittany doesn’t let up on the pressure, until Brittany has a knee on the chair and is hovering over her. She pulls back slowly, eyes still closed, and licks her lips. Santana is mesmerized by the sight, following her tongue over the tiny crevices of her lips like the movement is the first line a book she’s been dying to read but never had the time to. Slowly, Brittany opens her eyes.
“You know what?” she says, her eyes half-lidded and her pupils dilated. Santana swallows her nerves and ignores the way Brittany’s sultry stare is sending shocks throughout her whole system.
“It was also pretty hot.”
As though responding to some alarm bell signaling the temperature in the room spiked above acceptable levels, Callie enters the room again, and lets out a squeak of surprise.
“Guys!”
Brittany hops off of Santana instantly, plasters on an innocent smile, and sits back on the couch before Callie even has time to unshield her eyes. “Sorry,” Brittany replies nonchalantly, but she sounds anything but. She sits up suddenly. “Do you guys want to watch a movie?”
Santana shrugs as Callie settles in in front of her and starts unbottling the ointment.
“Okay, I’m grabbing Cars,” she says happily, and bounces out of the room. Santana shakes her head amusedly, again wondering at how quickly Brittany can switch from sexy and seductive to chaste and innocent.
Callie applies the ointment to her forearm, and Santana winces.
“Sorry.”
They fall silent as Callie works quietly. Santana scrapes her throat.
“Hey,” she says softly, and Callie looks up at her. A hint of adoration is still left in her eyes, and despite the fact that it makes her feel even more like a stud than Brittany’s adoration, she ignores it and continues, “I didn’t want to ask around Brittany in case the answer was no… but are you okay? Like really okay?”
Callie raises her eyebrows in surprise. “Yeah, I am, I think.”
“’Cause, I mean I know that you keep saying what I did was awesome, and at the time it seemed like the only thing to do because he was hurting you and all… but you guys were still dating and I don’t know if - I mean - ” she cuts herself off from rambling on. Callie smiles reassuringly at her worried frown.
“It’s okay. We only dated for a while, and I didn’t really like him that much. Yeah, it sucks that he ended up being an asshole like that, but I’m not really upset about that.”
Santana’s frown doesn’t smooth out. “What are you upset about?”
Callie gives a wistful, regretful smile. “Love.”
Before Santana can respond, Brittany rushes into the room, a heavy frown on her face and confusion knit into her features.
“I can’t find it. There’s Karate Kid on the left and Kissing Jessica Stein on the right, but there’s no Cars in between them!”
“Cars starts with a C,” Santana explains.
A startled “Oh”, and Brittany’s gone again. Santana shakes her hand in amusement, wondering why she ever bothered to alphabetize Brittany’s DVDs. “That girl.” Callie smiles with her.
“I don’t know what she’d do without you,” she says sweetly, and Santana feels her face heat up. “I want what you and Britt have,” Callie continues, and looks down in embarrassment at her hands.
“You will. Someday,” Santana assures her. She sounds calm enough, but her heart beats nervously, because who is she to give advice on love? And to Callie, of all people?
“As long as I stay away from douchebags like Seth, right?”
Santana snorts. "Trust me, if it's gonna go for you in any way like it went for me, you don’t even want to know how many douchebags you'll meet, sleep with, and get kicked out of bed by before you find what I found with Britt."
Callie looks appalled, and Santana backtracks. Shit, right, the girl's barely fourteen. I knew I shouldn’t be giving advice. “Uh, bad example, never mind."
Callie slouches dejectedly and fidgets with a thread on her sweater. Santana looks around awkwardly for an escape before she grits her teeth and lets out a resigned sigh.
“Look, you may meet a few douchebags along the way. But that’s part of it. Seth’s the first, he won’t be the last.” Callie’s face falls unhappily, and Santana touches her knee to reassure her. She meets her eyes again. “But they’re not all like that. Even some of the guys I was with were halfway decent, even when I was nowhere decent to them. You will find someone that makes you happy. It may not happen tomorrow or this year or anytime in high school, but you will. I know you will.”
“How do you know?” Callie asks softly.
“Because you’re like Brittany. It’s impossible not to love you. When you find someone that can see that, I can guarantee, they’ll never let you go.” Just like Britt and I.
Callie holds her gaze for a second, and Santana is worried that she’s said the wrong thing, because Callie isn’t smiling, not really, but then suddenly she’s flung two arms tightly around her neck and Callie is hugging her. Santana is too surprised for a moment to do anything but let Callie hug her, but when Callie whispers “I’m really glad you’re dating Brittany,” she relaxes and hugs the girl back.
“Oooh! Can I join?” Brittany pipes up happily as she enters the room, and Callie pulls away. Santana clears her throat self-consciously, but both Callie and Brittany are looking at her adoringly.
There’s way too much love in this room, she thinks with a twinge of embarrassment. “Movie?” she offers.
Both sisters nod happily, and sit together on the couch as she takes the DVD to start Cars. However, when she comes back and sits on her still-warm spot on the chair next to the couch, Brittany immediately jumps up.
“Nah-uh, you’re sitting with us,” she demands, and pulls on Santana’s arm. Santana resists, letting out an unidentifiable whine of dismay. “Come on, otherwise we’ll both come sit on your lap on this chair. Right, Callie?”
“Right,” the younger girl agrees with an eager bob of her head.
Santana drags herself out of her chair begrudgingly and plops down between the two blonde girls. Both immediately cuddle up against her, and Santana nearly laughs at their synchrony. Still, she can’t help the swell of love in her chest as she swings both arms around the girls and sits back to watch the movie. Way too much love in this room, she thinks again, but, honestly, she doesn’t really mind.
Find Part 2 here.
Author: fullyajar
Pairings: Brittany/Santana
Spoilers: None.
Summary: Santana comes to Brittany's little sister's rescue, and Brittany is very grateful. For this prompt at the Glee Kink Meme.
Rating: NC-17. Smut (with plot!).
Disclaimer: I own nothing. If I did, Glee might just become The Brittana Show.
Word count: ~ 10,000 (6,000 plot, 4,000 smut, divided in two parts. Good ratio? ;P)
A/N: I wrote 5000 words on my iPad on vacation before I got back to the real world and wrote the rest. This might be the result of extended separation from my girlfriend, which means that I’ll probably be writing a lot more to ease the sexual frustration when we move 4 hours away from each other in September. Silver lining, perhaps?
"So then," Santana asks, lips twitching into a smile, "it has come to this."
Brittany nods seriously up at her from her spot on the carpet in front of the TV, and lifts her hands to display two DVDs
"You must choose. " Brittany replies solemnly.
Santana shakes her head forlornly, mimicking Brittany's serious expression. It's Friday night, and they've just come home from extended Cheerios practice to find an empty house and a note from Callie, Brittany's kid sister, saying she's out watching a movie with a boy named Seth. With both Brittany and Santana too exhausted to do anything but fall on the couch in a huff and a tangle of limbs, the choice of activity was easy enough: movie. Santana had begrudgingly dragged herself and Britt off the couch, thinking that that part of 'watching a movie' would be the part that would require most effort, but boy, was she wrong. They'd been debating which movie of Brittany's extended collection to watch for the past half an hour. Discarding non-animated, overly long, or remotely troubling films (for the sake of Brittany’s mental age, personality, and attention span), they were now left with two options: Despicable Me and Megamind.
"Gosh, I don't know, Britt," Santana says carefully, biting her lip dramatically. "They're both so good..."
"I know," Britt exclaims, "But so different!"
"Yeah, this one is about a criminal Pixar animated villain with minions who ends up just needing some lovin' to lose his touch and find his humanity, and this one is about..." she tilts her head thoughtfully, hiding a grin. "Oh wait, they're both about that..."
"Are not!" Brittany exclaims crossly, and then continues in a matter-of-fact tone: "They're totally different. Despicable Me shrinks stuff; Megamind freezes stuff. Different!"
"Ah, right..." Santana replies seriously, nodding, but she can't hide her amusement and soon her grins breaks through and she starts laughing. Brittany throws a pillow at her, and she ducks with a giggle.
"Sorry, B, it's just that these movies are so typically you...”
Brittany huffs. "I let you choose them -"
"- we chose them together!" Santana reminds her. Brittany continues with a silencing glare at Santana.
"... because I thought you would ifentidy -"
"- identify," Santana corrects. Brittany shushes her.
"Stop interrupting!" she commands, and Santana falls quiet again, although her smile still stretches across her face. "As I was saying... I let you choose them because I thought you would identify -" she exaggerates the word with an annoyed eye roll, but then continues with a wicked smirk, "- with the villains."
Santana raises an eyebrow. "Why?"
Brittany shifts her position and explains, “Well, they're both smart and awesome and get everything they want."
Santana smiles smugly and nods in agreement, but Brittany continues. "But they’re both also a bit evil."
Santana's face falls. "You think I'm evil?"
Brittany laughs as though it's the most ridiculous thing in the world. "Of course not, you are the sweetest. But you used to be..."
That's kind of true, Santana concedes with a bob of her head.
"…until I came along." Brittany grins, puffing out her chest proudly. Santana guffaws in disagreement. There's no way being with Brittany has made her anything but more confident about her stable position in the social hierarchy of high school and more snarky now that the retorts are coming from wit and power rather than from being in the closet. She starts to interrupt, but another warning glare shuts her up. Brittany smiles and bobs her head as though this proves her point, and continues, ignoring Santana's dissatisfied expression.
"It's just like the villains," Brittany continues. "The dark hole in their heart is filled with love and cookies - " Santana raises an eyebrow again, "- and they turn nice. But -" she adds quickly when Santana begins to protest to the comparison, "According to Puck with you it’s different because you’re not nice, but..." she searches briefly for the word, and Santana is too curious to interrupt her again. Suddenly Brittany sits up proudly again and says matter-of-factly, "whipped."
Santana stays still for a second, an expression of disbelief suspended on her face, and then she lets out a high-pitched squeal and launches herself off the couch onto Brittany. "You!"
Brittany squeaks in delight and surprise as Santana pins her arms above her head and starts tickling her. She's not even putting up a fight, because, honestly, teased-Santana is just too much fun - huffy, playfully vengeful, and (in some situations) extremely easy to tease further, albeit in a completely different way...
Brittany squirms and squeals beneath her as Santana straddles Brittany's hips and tickles her until she's panting for breath. "Say Uncle!" she challenges, and Brittany gains control of her breath long enough to laugh and ask, "Uncle who? Uncle Norman? Uncle Kendra?"
This time it's Santana who cracks up, and she releases her hold on Brittany. "No, saying uncle means you yield, give up," she explains, and then adds, "And by the way, just because Uncle Ken dresses up as a drag queen slash transvestite slash transsexual for Carnival in Holland does not mean that he is now Uncle Kendra. Dutch people go a little crazy for Carnival."
"Oh, right."
Santana's giggle turns into an easy smile as she settles her hands next to Brittany's face and leans down over her. Brittany smiles up brightly at her and loops her freed arms around Santana neck.
"You're weird," Santana whispers as she leans down and brushes her lips over Brittany's. Not quite a kiss, but a promise of one. "And totally wrong about me being like the movie villains," she adds, when Brittany's smiles widens knowingly, as though she had planned this from the start and Santana is again proving her right. “I am the most badass bitch in school.” Definitely not whipped.
"I think I may be wrong too, because I've never whipped you..." Brittany trails off, but then a bright twinkle appears in her eyes. "We can try that sometime though."
Santana smiles, admiring how easily and quickly Brittany’s mind goes from innocent to sexually curious. "Being whipped means being completely controlled by your girlfriend, being led around like a puppy and being such a pussy about it that you don’t even realize it.”
"Oh." A pause. "Well, then I wasn’t wrong."
Santana lets out another scandalized shriek and pulls Brittany’s arms down from her neck and presses them on the floor with one hand. With her free hand, she attacks Brittany’s armpits, and within a few seconds, Brittany is whimpering in a half-aroused whisper, “Uncle Ken! Uncle Ken!” Santana grins. At least Brittany listened to half her explanation.
She lets go of Brittany’s hands and studies her as the blonde pants beneath her. It’s not the first time she’s hovered over her like this, the blonde out of breath and blushing, and, if Santana can do anything about it, it definitely won’t be the last time. Whipped, she thinks with a disbelieving mental huff. Yeah right. Who’s always on top? Who’s got their girlfriend completely trapped and panting here? Who basically rules the school? Me.
Brittany’s breathing has slowed down and she smiling up at Santana’s smug expression, as though she knows exactly what’s going through her mind. Santana smiles down at her playfully. “You’re causing quite a lot of trouble aren’t you?”
Brittany just smirks impishly.
“Well... I'll forgive you - this time - because you're also pretty cute and I kinda like you." She smiles teasingly when Brittany scrunches up her lips with playful distaste.
"Kinda?"
"Kinda."
Brittany's frowns smoothes and she tilts her face slightly, nudging her nose against Santana's, and invites her for a kiss. Santana takes it. Their lips press softly together, and Santana tilts her head to gain better access as she sucks Brittany's top lip lightly into her mouth. Brittany pushes up and presses closer, her hips tilting of their own accord and her fingers drawing slow patterns on Santana skin at the nape of her neck. She flicks her tongue past Santana's bottom lip and Santana sighs with pleasure.
After a minute, Brittany nudges her away and smiles at the sight of Santana hovering over her, eyes still closed and lips slightly parted, looking as though she's just had a little bite of heaven and she's in no rush to come back to reality. Brittany twirls a lock of hair at the back of Santana's neck, and the brunette opens her eyes.
"Still just kinda?" she asks with a winning smile.
Santana grins. "Maybe a little more than just 'kinda'..."
Brittany holds Santana's gaze. "Say you love me."
"I love you," Santana replies instantly.
Brittany giggles. "See, whipped."
Santana gives in, and just smiles. "You're incorrigible."
Brittany scrunches up her nose. "I don't know what that means, but I don't think I want to be corriged."
Santana smiles wider. "Don't worry, you won't be." She presses a quick smooch to Brittany's lips, and then jumps up and picks up the DVDs. "Now, movie. I say, Megamind. Yesh?"
"Yesh," Brittany replied cheerfully as she collects herself from the floor and settles onto the couch.
"Great." Santana pops in the DVD, selects the film, and settles into Brittany's waiting arms. She snuggles back into the blonde's embrace when Brittany pulls a blanket over their spooning bodies, and Brittany kisses her sweetly on the cheek. Santana can still feel the imprint of the kiss long after it has dried from her cheek, and when she falls asleep a few minutes into the film, the feeling stays with her well into her dream.
-
"San."
It's the tone of Brittany's voice more than her name that wakes her; it's uncertain, worried, and so unlike to the usual, easy-going if slightly oblivious sound of Brittany's voice, that Santana is instantly awake. Brittany is standing by the open window, peeking through the blinds as the wind blows them back and forth and gently knocks the bottom against the windowsill. The blonde looks back anxiously.
"What's wrong, B?" Santana asks groggily as she pulls herself slowly off the couch and straightens her unkempt hair and uniform, her limbs still heavy with sleep despite the fact that her mind, focused on Brittany, is quite awake.
"I think Callie and Seth are fighting."
"Oh, she's back?" Santana asks happily. She likes Callie. The girl, sure to be a future Cheerio, has the beauty, body, and happy go lucky attitude typical of the Pierces, and although her wit is a bit less... quirky than that of Brittany, she is never short of a comeback in response to Santana's snarks. At the time unbeknownst to Santana, Callie was the first person Brittany told about Santana, and the first person to look past the obvious unexpected aspects of Brittany's object of affection (namely, the fact that she was a girl) and judge Santana worthy for her sister by her unparalleled loyalty and love for Brittany. Santana had luckily passed the test, and they had been friendly ever since.
"Who's she with? Who is this Seth?"
Brittany shrugs. "Just some boy from school she's been dating for a few weeks. She hasn't told me about him much."
"Seth... Seth... It rings a bell, doesn't it?"
"Mmm... Just from The OC..." Brittang murmurs absentmindedly.
"Is it Seth Mason? The 10th grader?"
"Yeah, I think so." Brittany leans up on her tiptoes to gain a better view outside the window. Santana comes closer, mimicking Brittany.
"Puck knows him. Told me about him some time. Big man on campus, popular, you know? Football, baseball... Tea Kwon Do with Mr. Freeborn Thursday nights..."
Brittany looks up, shocked. "I thought they cancelled that when Yun Soo popped out his shoulder?"
"Guess not. Saw them training yesterday. I think he's a blue belt."
"How good is that?"
"Three before black."
Faintly, Santana can hear raised voices through the open window, and she peeks outside. She can just see the wave of Callie's blonde hair through the passenger side window of a car parked on the curb of Brittany's street. Callie moves in quick jerks as she talks, and Santana thinks Brittany is right that the conversation is at least more than just animated. She looks irritated.
"Can you hear what they're saying?" she asks Brittany. The blonde cocks her head like a bloodhound and starts reciting.
"... How... Fair... Not... No... No... You... I didn't... Not true... Looking..."
Santana snorts. "That's complete gibberish, Britt."
"Well, it's what they're saying," Brittany counters, somewhat indignant.
"I want to know what they're fighting about."
Brittany scrunches up her face in thought. "Maybe they said it's not fair that Seth is not a no-no because they didn't thinking it was true to look... Or something."
Santana raises an eyebrow. Typically Brittany. "Again, complete gibberish."
Before Brittany can defend her translation of the argument, the passenger side door opens, and Callie climbs out of the car. Brittany immediately begins reciting what she hears, but Santana shushes her quickly; she can hear them perfectly now.
"- going. I don't wanna fight anymore." Well. That was informative, Santana thinks sarcastically. She pulls the blinds down further to see what’s happening, and Brittany crowds close behind her.
"Now you're leaving?" It's Seth talking. Santana can just see a hand gripping the steering wheel and another resting on the now empty passenger seat. His knuckles whiten as he clenches his fist in anger. "Wouldn't have been easier if you'd just left at the movies, before I paid for everything, huh? Except the fucking popcorn of course." Seth's voice is raised, and there's a snide edge to it that makes Santana's skin crawl.
"Seth, I already told you -" Callie calls, not quite as loud as Seth, but still angry.
"Well, I still don't get it. Stupid me huh? Idiot Seth, takes so long to get anything through his thick skull." Santana's grits her teeth at his taunting tone, and clenches her fists to keep from intervening. Brittany glances at her quickly, but then looks back at the scene. Come on, Callie, Santana urges in her head. Don't let him talk to you like that.
"Now, since I still don't get it, how about you come and explain it to me again? Mmm? You owe me that, at least."
Callie huffs irately, and reaches into the car to grab her purse. "Goodnight."
"Hey! I'm not done talking to you yet!" Seth yells, and even before Santana sees his arm shoot out to grab her wrist, the hairs on the back of her neck have raised up in alarm. She tenses her shoulders, ready to bolt to the lawn and pry his fingers off her, but a hand on her arm from Brittany stills her. Santana glances up and sees Brittany's worried frown but she understands her unspoken words, ever afraid of conflict, pleading her not to fight.
"Ssh," she whispers to Brittany, both soothing and commanding, and slips quickly out from under her hand. The blonde takes one last quick look outside as Seth's furious voice ("Come on, I just want to talk") and the sound of a car door opening and slamming shut carries to the window, but when they both hear Callie cry out in pain, Brittany is barely a step behind Santana as the brunette races to the front door and out to the street. Santana looks back briefly at Brittany, and her face has lost all traces of fear or uncertainty, and all she sees is determination. It’s exactly what she feels - with an added dose of anger - and her feet carry her outside quickly.
The scene before her barely registers in her mind before Santana has sprung into action, but she doesn't need to see Callie cowering away from Seth against the car, her wrists locked tightly in his fists as he leans up close to her and backs her against the passenger side door, to be able to understand Callie's cries or Seth's replies.
"Seth! Let go! Stop it, let me go!"
"Calm down! Why are you - I'm not doing anything. I just want to talk!"
"Stop!”
" - just to talk to you - stop struggling already!"
If she didn't have enough to boil her blood already, it's Callie's cry of pain at Seth's last words that sends her completely over the edge, and before she knows it, Santana has jumped on his back and locked her arm around his neck.
"What the fuck?!" he spits out in surprise.
Her legs dangle unsteadily below her for a second (he's much taller than she is) until gravity lends her a hand and her weight pulls her down enough to get control over the lock. It's not particularly graceful or skillful, for that matter, and her position briefly reminds her of the ridiculous spider monkey scene from Twilight, of all things, but if his protests and sputtering are any indication, the 'spidermonkey lock' is definitely effective.
There's a flash of blonde hair past Seth's shoulder in front of her as Brittany springs into action and pulls Callie out of harm’s way. Brittany has Callie. Santana’s mind soars with adrenaline, but she registers that much. Brittany has Callie, safe.
There's a sound, a word, and when she realizes it's coming from Seth, she instinctively tightens her hold and cuts him off. Still, she understood it well enough: a low, livid gurgle of “Get the fuck off me”. Seth has recovered from his surprise enough to start talking and struggling, and suddenly his hands come up to her arm around his neck and digs deep crescents of nails into her skin. She winces and flexes her arm, but when he takes a step back, tries to shake her off, and staggers, she lets go and lands firmly on her feet.
Seth doubles over, away from her, leaning against the car and coughing. Santana moves quickly in Brittany's direction. The tall blonde has a protective arm around her sister, who is hunched down slightly and has tears in her eyes.
"Are you okay?" Santana demands, taking one of her hands gingerly. Callie nods, shaken, and Brittany tightens her hug protectively, glancing in Seth's direction. Callie rubs her wrists. Santana can already see bruises forming. She clenches her jaw and fists. Little shithead.
As though on cue, Seth coughs and manages to catch his breath enough to wheeze out, "Bitch..."
It's the final straw for Santana, and she whirls on him instantly.
"What was that? I didn’t quite catch that." Her voice is even, steady, and pissed off as hell. Adrenaline is seeping out of her system, and it’s in the post-rush moments that her mind and sharp tongue really kick in - and kick hard.
Seth rubs his neck, and shoots daggers at her with his glare. "I called you a bitch, bitch."
Santana rolls her eyes subtly with annoyance. It’s not even a fair fight, she thinks with a twinge of disappointment. Instead of showing it, she claps her hands lightly. “Oh, how original! Really. Just bravo.” She tilts her head questioningly, a hint of an encouraging smile on her face. “I bet you worked on that one for ages, big boy. Got any other ones? Come on, shock me, say something intelligent."
Seth clenches his jaw at her demeaning tone, and starts to straighten up, shaking off the ache in his neck. Santana takes a step forward. Almost striking distance. He notices, and tenses his shoulder warningly.
"You better watch it, I do Tae Kwon Do."
"Oh, I know," she says icily. He tenses at the change of tone from mocking to dangerously cold, uncertain of how to handle her cool, calm demeanor. Good, she thinks, and pushes the wave of rage threatening to boil over any minute again down further. Her adrenaline may have abated now that Callie is at least safe from harm, but she's in no way done with this dick.
Seth's eyes glance past her, at Callie, as though looking for help or a way out, and Santana's rage threatens to overwhelm her. How dare you look at her, you asshole? She takes another step forward, striking distance, and barks angrily. "Yo, dipshit, over here." He looks back immediately and is shocked to see how close she is. His arms tense into fighting position, knuckles locked at hip height. Santana reigns back her fury, and smiles icily.
"You're not going to hit a girl are you?"
"No, but a bitch like you is fair game if you ask me.”
“Well, I didn’t, and I’ve been called worse by better,” she retorts without hesitation.
He starts to reply, but she cuts him off with a quickly raised finger and a hint of a steely smile.
"Let me tell you something. I'm from Lima Heights Adjacent. Do you know what we use as summer scarves in Lima Heights Adjacent?" He stares at her blankly. "Tae Kwon Do belts."
Seth's eyebrows knit in confusion and he shuffles his weight uncertainly. Santana smirks, glad to see her flip-flop approach is at least confusing him.
"Yup, ranking belts. Yellow, orange, green, brown, black, all colors. Just wrap them right around our neck, you'd be surprised how fashionable they look." She gestures vaguely with her hands, tilting her hip disarmingly. "And you wanna know where we get them?"
Seth glances uncertainly around. He has his back against the car, which from a fighting standpoint isn't a bad place to be, but he's suddenly aware of three of four open windows in the neighborhood with watching, curious neighbors drawn by the noise. There's no way he can justify attacking Santana now. He can only defend. Good, Santana thinks, and she drops her playful, taunting manner. Another step, and she's close enough to feel his nervous breathing on her face, tilted up at him challengingly.
"We get them from the bodies of little dipshits like you before we dump them in Westside Bay and let them go swimming with the fishes." Seth's eyebrows twitch in a mixture of fear and disbelief. "And you know what? I look great in blue."
With that, she rams up her knee and gives a satisfied smirk when it lands right between his legs. He cries out in pain and doubles over, but before he even has the chance to grab at the bruised area, Santana pushes with all her strength against his shoulder and pins him against the car. He squeals pathetically and his face contorts with pain. Santana matches it with equal rage as she lets go the floodgates she's been holding and releases all her wrath on him.
"Now, how about you take your punkass, backstreet moves back to where you came from afores I strangle you with your own, evidently undeserved, blue belt and use it as a fashion statement at the McKinley High Junior Dance?!"
Seth hunkers down against the car, hands clamped between his legs, gulping air into his lungs, and Santana leans down next to him and hisses ferociously into his ear. "Don't ever come anywhere near Callie again. If you so much as look at her in school, I will do everything in my power to make the rest of your high school experience a living hell. If you get up the balls to try to call her, I’ll relieve you of them. If you’re stupid enough to talk to her… I’ll personally pay for your funeral. Got it?"
Seth nods frantically, still too out of breath to speak. Santana smirks with satisfaction and shoves him threateningly one more time. He scrambles up instantly and backs away, out of danger, hands still clutching his crotch.
"Go now, git!" she yells for good measure, and within seconds, his car is revved up and speeding down the road. Santana looks after him with a satisfied smirk.
Brittany is simultaneously appalled and amazed. She still has her arm around Callie, pulling her little sister close and out of danger, but whether the danger was Seth alone or Santana's unexpected ruthlessness, she's not quite sure. Santana's reaction completely shocked her, and she stood open-mouthed as Santana ripped Seth apart. She's a pacifist to the core, but watching Santana... She was proud as hell.
Callie, meanwhile, is completely stunned. She’s always liked Santana; the sharp wit she started to tone down against Callie lately as the two became closer; the way Santana seems to transform into a different person when she’s around Brittany, all her bravado and toughness melting and leaving her utterly exposed and comfortable; but mostly, she’d been happily surprised at how protective Santana was about Brittany. How she consciously used her popularity as a shield - not around herself, but around Brittany, protecting her from any snide comments or insults sent their way and comforting the blonde by telling her they weren’t meant for them. How she instantly puts herself in harm’s way for Brittany’s sake, be it to catch a slushie in the face or the impact of a shove in line at a movie theater. Most of all, Callie had been surprised at how Santana never hesitated to even raise her voice against her, Callie, if she stepped out of line against Brittany, as sisters do. Still, she’d never expected that Santana’s protective instincts could be triggered so quickly to protect not just Brittany, but herself, Callie. She stares at Santana with new admiration and thanks, her knight in shining armor.
Santana takes a calming breath in and shakes her body to rid herself of the tension built up from the confrontation. There are crescent shaped welts rising on the skin of her forearm, and her head is pounding from the rapid rush of adrenaline, but she feels fucking awesome. The smirk widens in her face, and she skips back almost cheerfully to where Brittany and Callie are watching her. It's only when she sees their expressions that her face falls uncertainly.
"What?"
Brittany just shakes her head in amazement, eyes wide and searching. Callie, on the other hand, finds her voice, but her words are almost as much gibberish as Brittany's not too long ago.
"That was...," she starts an awed whisper. "I don’t even... He was… How did you...?" she stops and smiles crookedly at her broken sentences. She looks back at Brittany. "Did you see him run?"
Brittany nods weakly and continues staring at Santana.
Santana grins, crinkling her nose with ill-concealed pride. "Let's put some ice on your wrists," she offers, and lightly takes Callie's hand to lead her inside. Brittany remains motionless, only her eyes following Santana in wonder. "BritBrit, come," Santana commands, and the blonde complies instantly.
Once inside and with a pack of frozen peas pressed firmly against Callie's wrists, Santana's mood sobers.
"What happened?" she asks carefully, settling in on a chair across from the couch where Brittany and Callie are huddled close. Brittany has been brushing her hand over Callie's hair for the past few minutes, smoothing the stray strands down and giving comfort in the process. Callie doesn’t really look like she needs it, but her face falls at Santana’s question.
“We went to the movies, the new spider man one. He drove me there, paid for tickets, held my hand, it was all fine."
"How long have you been going out?" Santana interrupts.
"Five weeks. This was our fourth date. Last time didn't go so well, but I thought this would be better." Santana nods, inviting Callie to go on. She takes a breath and describes how the guy behind the counter of the popcorn and refreshment stand had flirted with her and refused to take her money for popcorn, and how Seth had flipped out about it. "He accused me of flirting with the guy to get the popcorn, and said that he was supposed to be treating me to this date and that now this guy had stolen that from him and that somehow that was my fault..." she trails off. "I don't even know, he just completely overreacted. Refused to talk to me throughout the whole film, but when it was done, I could see he'd spent the whole time working up what to say and how to explode everything in my face. Car ride back was not too fun..."
Santana snorts cynically. "I bet it wasn't." They fall into silence. Callie breaks it.
“He’s an idiot.”
“You can say that again,” Santana agrees instantly. “But I don't think he's idiotic enough to try to contact you again. If he does... Just give me a call, and I'll clear things up for him, get it through his 'thick skull'." She mimics Seth's voice and mannerisms at the end, and Callie smiles.
"That was freaking badass, what you did to him."
Santana smiles a lopsided smile kept from stretching into a full, self-satisfied grin only by the sober circumstances of her victory. "I try," she says with a wider smile.
“No, seriously,” Callie insists. “I know I should be sad about all this, and I kind of am, but I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been there.”
Brittany squirms uncomfortably in her seat. I don’t want to think about that, the movement says clearly, and Santana lays a comforting hand on her knee. “Don’t worry, BritBrit, I was there. It’s all okay now.”
“He’s not,” Callie says with a smirk. “Did you hear him squeal?”
Brittany smiles timidly, and giggles, and Santana relaxes. Despite her open nature, Brittany can be difficult to read. Her laugh, and the adoring twinkle in her eyes as she turns them to Santana and smiles gratefully, are enough to put Santana at ease that - although Brittany avoids it like the plague - her violence and ferocity in protection of Callie were appreciated.
She sits back in her chair as Callie babbles on about Santana’s epic crotch-ram and vicious, vicious words, but she’s barely listening because Brittany hasn’t taken her eyes off her. She nods now and then to Callie’s story, but the grateful smile on her face had shifted, somehow. It takes Santana a moment to realize, but when she sees Brittany’s eyes flit down quickly across her body and sees her hips shift subtly on the couch as she crosses her legs, she gets it: Brittany is checking her out, and if the way she licks her lips is any indication, she likes what she sees. Santana smirks and crosses her arms proudly, smugly, holding Brittany’s gaze but refusing to return or react to the lust reflected in the blonde’s eyes.
Suddenly, Callie cries out in alarm. “Santana! Your arm!”
Santana looks down at her forearm in surprise. The crescent indents of Seth’s nails, eight in two rows of four, have raised to dangerous looking red welts, surrounded by a ring of blue bruise. The welts where Seth’s index fingers dug in have a line of broken skin, and a rim of dried blood lines the swollen wound.
“Oh… It’s fine. I barely feel it.” She shrugs disinterestedly, but neither Brittany or Callie will have it.
“I’ll get some bruise-soothing ointment and a Little Miss Sunshine pack,” Callie offers instantly as Brittany leans forward and fusses over Santana’s arm, gently cradling it and frowning as though Santana’s pain is her own. Santana smiles proudly at the battle scars and the way Brittany is worrying over her. Battle scars are awesome.
Brittany lightly runs her fingers past the bruises, barely skimming the skin, but Santana’s face twitches with a pained expression when she tried to brush off the dried blood.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Brittany whispers instantly, but Santana just shrugs.
“Doesn’t hurt.”
Brittany cocks her head with a chastising expression. “Yes, it does.”
Santana holds her gaze stubbornly, but then gives in. “Maybe a little, yeah.”
Brittany is quiet for a minute, and then her hands still their careful ministrations as well. Santana looks at her with curiosity, but Brittany refuses to meet her gaze.
“That was really great, what you did,” she says softly after a minute. Santana just smiles, waiting for Brittany to go on. Instead of speaking, she grabs Santana’s hand and pulls her close so suddenly that it’s only because of Santana’s surprise and resistance that their lips don’t collide to the point of pain. Instead, their lips meet with just the right kind of pressure. The kind that sends a sigh of surprise out of Santana’s mouth. The kind that forces their tongues to brush past the other’s lips. The kind that pushes Santana further back in her chair as Brittany doesn’t let up on the pressure, until Brittany has a knee on the chair and is hovering over her. She pulls back slowly, eyes still closed, and licks her lips. Santana is mesmerized by the sight, following her tongue over the tiny crevices of her lips like the movement is the first line a book she’s been dying to read but never had the time to. Slowly, Brittany opens her eyes.
“You know what?” she says, her eyes half-lidded and her pupils dilated. Santana swallows her nerves and ignores the way Brittany’s sultry stare is sending shocks throughout her whole system.
“It was also pretty hot.”
As though responding to some alarm bell signaling the temperature in the room spiked above acceptable levels, Callie enters the room again, and lets out a squeak of surprise.
“Guys!”
Brittany hops off of Santana instantly, plasters on an innocent smile, and sits back on the couch before Callie even has time to unshield her eyes. “Sorry,” Brittany replies nonchalantly, but she sounds anything but. She sits up suddenly. “Do you guys want to watch a movie?”
Santana shrugs as Callie settles in in front of her and starts unbottling the ointment.
“Okay, I’m grabbing Cars,” she says happily, and bounces out of the room. Santana shakes her head amusedly, again wondering at how quickly Brittany can switch from sexy and seductive to chaste and innocent.
Callie applies the ointment to her forearm, and Santana winces.
“Sorry.”
They fall silent as Callie works quietly. Santana scrapes her throat.
“Hey,” she says softly, and Callie looks up at her. A hint of adoration is still left in her eyes, and despite the fact that it makes her feel even more like a stud than Brittany’s adoration, she ignores it and continues, “I didn’t want to ask around Brittany in case the answer was no… but are you okay? Like really okay?”
Callie raises her eyebrows in surprise. “Yeah, I am, I think.”
“’Cause, I mean I know that you keep saying what I did was awesome, and at the time it seemed like the only thing to do because he was hurting you and all… but you guys were still dating and I don’t know if - I mean - ” she cuts herself off from rambling on. Callie smiles reassuringly at her worried frown.
“It’s okay. We only dated for a while, and I didn’t really like him that much. Yeah, it sucks that he ended up being an asshole like that, but I’m not really upset about that.”
Santana’s frown doesn’t smooth out. “What are you upset about?”
Callie gives a wistful, regretful smile. “Love.”
Before Santana can respond, Brittany rushes into the room, a heavy frown on her face and confusion knit into her features.
“I can’t find it. There’s Karate Kid on the left and Kissing Jessica Stein on the right, but there’s no Cars in between them!”
“Cars starts with a C,” Santana explains.
A startled “Oh”, and Brittany’s gone again. Santana shakes her hand in amusement, wondering why she ever bothered to alphabetize Brittany’s DVDs. “That girl.” Callie smiles with her.
“I don’t know what she’d do without you,” she says sweetly, and Santana feels her face heat up. “I want what you and Britt have,” Callie continues, and looks down in embarrassment at her hands.
“You will. Someday,” Santana assures her. She sounds calm enough, but her heart beats nervously, because who is she to give advice on love? And to Callie, of all people?
“As long as I stay away from douchebags like Seth, right?”
Santana snorts. "Trust me, if it's gonna go for you in any way like it went for me, you don’t even want to know how many douchebags you'll meet, sleep with, and get kicked out of bed by before you find what I found with Britt."
Callie looks appalled, and Santana backtracks. Shit, right, the girl's barely fourteen. I knew I shouldn’t be giving advice. “Uh, bad example, never mind."
Callie slouches dejectedly and fidgets with a thread on her sweater. Santana looks around awkwardly for an escape before she grits her teeth and lets out a resigned sigh.
“Look, you may meet a few douchebags along the way. But that’s part of it. Seth’s the first, he won’t be the last.” Callie’s face falls unhappily, and Santana touches her knee to reassure her. She meets her eyes again. “But they’re not all like that. Even some of the guys I was with were halfway decent, even when I was nowhere decent to them. You will find someone that makes you happy. It may not happen tomorrow or this year or anytime in high school, but you will. I know you will.”
“How do you know?” Callie asks softly.
“Because you’re like Brittany. It’s impossible not to love you. When you find someone that can see that, I can guarantee, they’ll never let you go.” Just like Britt and I.
Callie holds her gaze for a second, and Santana is worried that she’s said the wrong thing, because Callie isn’t smiling, not really, but then suddenly she’s flung two arms tightly around her neck and Callie is hugging her. Santana is too surprised for a moment to do anything but let Callie hug her, but when Callie whispers “I’m really glad you’re dating Brittany,” she relaxes and hugs the girl back.
“Oooh! Can I join?” Brittany pipes up happily as she enters the room, and Callie pulls away. Santana clears her throat self-consciously, but both Callie and Brittany are looking at her adoringly.
There’s way too much love in this room, she thinks with a twinge of embarrassment. “Movie?” she offers.
Both sisters nod happily, and sit together on the couch as she takes the DVD to start Cars. However, when she comes back and sits on her still-warm spot on the chair next to the couch, Brittany immediately jumps up.
“Nah-uh, you’re sitting with us,” she demands, and pulls on Santana’s arm. Santana resists, letting out an unidentifiable whine of dismay. “Come on, otherwise we’ll both come sit on your lap on this chair. Right, Callie?”
“Right,” the younger girl agrees with an eager bob of her head.
Santana drags herself out of her chair begrudgingly and plops down between the two blonde girls. Both immediately cuddle up against her, and Santana nearly laughs at their synchrony. Still, she can’t help the swell of love in her chest as she swings both arms around the girls and sits back to watch the movie. Way too much love in this room, she thinks again, but, honestly, she doesn’t really mind.
Find Part 2 here.