Work Text:
They’re in New Jersey for the Grand Final of the Division I Rowing Championships. It’s not like Cal hasn’t been at this regatta for the past however many years, but this year Santana’s the coxswain for their varsity eight team and if there’s one thing that Santana hates: it’s losing. Virginia has had this domination of the championship for the past couple of years, so it’s not like they don’t know who their main competition is. Santana does her research. Coach O’Neil is awesome, but he’s no Sylvester. Her methods might’ve been against the Geneva Convention, but the Cheerios knew how to win championships in their sleep. Santana’s not that confident in her crew.
It’s not that they suck. Santana knows how to work her boat like a dancer on her pole. However, they’ve been sniping at each other about the tiniest fucking things for the past week and it’s annoying the fuck out of her. The Cheerios were perfection personified. There was no sniping, there were no nerves, and there was barely any talking the week before Nationals. It’s a sign of weakness. It’s a sign of lack of confidence. Coach Sylvester strongly encouraged a vow of silence leading up to Nationals; the Unholy Trinity enforced it even though they didn’t need to. Everyone on that squad knew what was up. First was theirs, the only competition was between the other teams for second and third. So this sniping makes her want to go all Lima Heights Adjacent on her team’s asses.
The reason the Cheerios won all of those Nationals, besides their absolutely flawless bodies and performances, was that they had the psychological advantage. It’s pretty damn intimidating when you’re at a competition with a team that moves perfectly in sync and never utters a single word. Sure, they never made any friends, but they weren’t there to make nice. They were there to kick ass. Virginia has the psychological advantage by default at this regatta. It comes easy when you’ve won multiple championships in a row, but they’re just chilling out and being human (definitely not snapping at each other and nitpicking like her team, though).
Santana never thought she’d miss having Sylvester as a coach.
Santana hates not having complete control.
She chose rowing because it was the closest thing she could find to the regiment and dedication of cheering for the Cheerios. Cal’s cheer squad was all right, the dance team was better. Santana wasn’t really a dancer though. Her body was built to be a weapon, her voice meant to seduce others into following. Being the coxswain for Cal’s crew team seemed like the perfect choice. She had to admit that it was excellent for keeping in shape and she did love being out on that water, but she wanted to win. Santana was born for winning. She knows the feel of winning, there’s this thrum in her body and this feeling in her gut that she usually gets just before the competition. Santana can accurately predict when her team is going to win. (She knew that New Directions wouldn’t win in those heartbreaking performances they gave. She knew, but she always hoped she was wrong. It was such a relief to feel the opposite of that in her senior year. She couldn’t fight the smile on her face before their performance, when she just knew that they’d be winning the Show Choir Nationals.) Santana knows now, she knows, what the result of the race will be. The saddest part is that she doesn’t need her intuition to tell her this. The boat is too nervous, Coach O’Neil hasn’t prepared them enough mentally for this. They’re wasting too much energy on these petty things, rather than staying quiet and focused on the task at hand. Santana’s tried her hardest to command her team off the water as well as she does on, but O’Neil didn’t allow her that leash and there’s nothing she can do.
Santana’s the fucking coxswain. She is supposed to be their God, what she says they do. In her they are supposed to trust. Coach O’Neil undermined that during practices, during the season, and it’s going to bite them all in the ass and lose them the championship.
No, they won’t be getting that Gold today.
Santana will try her hardest to prove her gut wrong, though. Her team responds well to her voice. It doesn’t hurt that six of the eight are gay and have been trying to get into her unisuit from day one. Brittany finds it amusing, the numerous and never creative ways of them trying to lure Santana in. She finds it amusing too, but mostly finds it useful for motivation. Gretel and Lim, the two that are not pure gay and have boyfriends, are just as motivated by the way Santana is able to coax her boat to that finish line fastest. It only works if they’re focused from the start, if they are as one before they even reach the dock. If Santana had control, they would’ve stepped off of the plane in New Jersey as one.
“Miller, I know this isn’t your stanky ass sock lying on my bag.” Silence engulfed the team’s changing area. Santana didn’t mean to growl, not really, her inner rage had mostly been dealt with and resolved, but this day was trying her patience. “Were you trying to piss me off?”
“No, Sant-“
“That’s it! I am done with this shit, everyone together, now!” Santana didn’t raise her voice, she didn’t need to: her tone promised death to any who defied her command. The team shuffled forward, half undressed and trying to dress as they moved. “Christ, Swanson, put your tits away.” Santana rolled her eyes and shook her head, she wondered if stupidity was bred into jocks or she was just fortunate enough to have to put up with these fools after finally being released from the likes of the football team at McKinley.
“Chill Lopez, what got your chones in a twist?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Jones. Probably the fact that you’re all acting like a bunch of babies fighting over their toys, instead of a grown ass team of college educated women about to race for the fucking championship?” Santana paused and found Jones’ eyes in the group before her, “Oh, wait, I’m sorry; it’d be rude to insult the babies like that.”
“Shit, where’s that girl of yours, need her to calm your ass down.”
“Oh, I am calm.” Santana’s smile was sharp like a dagger, “This is me calm. You do not want to see me angry, but I’m about to bring out the Snix if you don’t get your shit together and fall in line.” She looked around her and found a chair. Santana carried it over and stepped up onto it, overlooking her team. “You can save your petty ass squabbles for after the meet. You can stop acting like immature assholes trying to egg your teammates into arguments,” Santana pointedly made eye contact with Miller who was now holding her sock.
“I wasn’t—“
“I. Don’t. Care.” Santana cut her off. “What I do care about is the fact that you’re all acting like a bunch of idiots before our race. We’ve dominated our season and we actually had a chance at beating Virginia this year. Fuck. We could’ve made them our bitches, but no, all y’all are too busy sniping at each other to focus on winning this fuckin’ thing.” She runs a hand through her hair in frustration. “Listen, I know you’re nervous. Most of you were here last year, so you shouldn’t be ‘cause it’s not like it’s even possible to fail as miserably as y’all did.”
“Shut it, Lopez, you’re just the cox!”
“Just the cox?” Santana raises an eyebrow, “Really, Prak? Really? You wanna do this race without me? You wouldn’t even be able to get out of the dock without me. I am your coxswain. I am your God. Now show me the respect I deserve.”
Sanatana was met with silence. She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders.
“Listen, we need each other to win this. If you didn’t need me to win, I wouldn’t be here. If I didn’t need you to win, I wouldn’t have seen y’all more than I got to see my girlfriend this year. Do you know how hot my girlfriend is? Like, super hot. You think I would sacrifice my precious mornings with her just to hang out with your stanky asses?” Santana smirked at the whistles and wolf calls. “You need to stop picturing that shit, ‘cause it just ain’t right. Do it after the race for all I care, real life is better than fantasy any day, just don’t be putting yourselves into it ‘cause we don’t want you there, ya hear me?” Santana pointed her index finger at certain teammates. “What I was saying, before we got sidetracked, is that we need each other. You are the muscles, without you working perfectly in sync with each other we would go nowhere. I am the brain and the blood, it is my duty to be there for you and get you through the race. I must encourage you and flow through you so that you feel invincible, it is my job to coax out every last drop so that we reach that finishing point.”
“What are you talking about again, Lopez?”
“You wish, Jones.” Santana rolled her eyes.
“Yes, I do.” Jones nodded and the team laughed.
“Whatever.” Santana smiled, “it is my job to think, not yours. You’ve been thinking too much this entire trip. Your minds are tripping you up and it’s going to lose us this fucking race. So, just stop. Let me be your brain, let me guide you through all your strokes and if you do that, we might actually win this thing. But not if your heads are so far up your asses that I’d be better off going to the zoo and borrowing eight monkeys.”
“Hey, Santana?”
“Yes, Smith?” Santana stood on her tiptoes to see the woman standing at the back of the group.
“Do I really even love you, or do I really love your…brain.” Smith sang out.
“Oh, God, no.”
“I just love your braaaaaain.” The group of eight sang out at Santana.
“Well, at least you’re all working together again.” Santana rubbed her face with her hand and stepped down from her chair. She immediately felt arms wrapping around her from behind, shortly followed by a scent that said Brittany.
“Ladies.” Brittany smiled and nodded at the team.
“Missus.” The team bowed.
“That must’ve been some pep-talk, babe.” Brittany gives Santana a brief peck on the lips.
“I’m thinking it was the accidental foray into how hot you are.” Santana leaned her head back onto Brittany and smiled.
“Sue would be proud.” Brittany laughed, then turned to the team and spoke in a loud voice, “Tell you what, you win and you can make out with us.”
“No, Britt. Sue would be proud of you, but now I’m not too sure I want us to win.”
“They just need the proper motivation.”
“I’m not sure how proper that is, babe.” Santana brought her lips up to Brittany’s and engaged her in an intense and passionate kiss. She giggled as she pulled away and heard her team cat-calling.
“Just giving you some inspiration, ladies.” Brittany winked at the group.
“Get your asses to the water, you know what to do. I’ll be there in a minute, just need to show Britt where to sit.” Santana turned to go, one hand holding onto Brittany’s, but turned right back around and called out, “oh, and Jones? There are no chones to get twisted.” She walked away with Brittany’s laughter tinkling in her ears and her team’s utter silence.
xXx
The pub was packed. The Cal Rowing team took up a lot of space in the tiny little bar, it being a Saturday night only added to there being sparse moving room. The Golden Bears had commandeered the back wall of booths and were raucously celebrating their win earlier in the day. Santana and Brittany were back to back and stuck at the end of a long line of lip locks with women that were not each other. While Brittany's kiss with Tomlinson was a brief meeting of lips, Jones was taking full advantage of the situation and groping Santana quite heartily. Santana was stiff as a board, arms pinned to her sides. When Brittany turned around and saw this, she reached her hand up and harshly yanked Jones' ponytail, ripping the woman's lips away from Santana's.
"Mine." Brittany growled. Her glare was like ice and her smile sharp.
"Hey, you can't blame me for taking advantage of my one chance, B." Jones shrugged.
"Jones, you're lucky you're my teammate and I've learned to trust you as a person, or things would not be cool right now." Santana took a step closer to Brittany, who instantly engulfed her in a hug.
"I was just playin', Lopez." Jones stuck her hand out for a shake, her expression clearly indicating that she realized that she'd taken it a step too far. "We cool?"
"You and I are fine." Santana shook the offered hand. "Fairly sure you've got a lot of work to do before Britt's cool with you again, though."
Brittany's grip around Santana had tightened. Her expression was still stern.
"Yo, Britts, I didn't mean anything."
"Yes, you did." Brittany's normally jovial voice was harsh and reprimanding. "How would you like to have someone you didn't feel any attraction to feel you up like that?"
"Hey now, I'm hot." Jones scoffed.
"Not to us you're not. You're just lucky Santana's too nice."
"She's the nice one?" Jones' voice was incredulous, even though she was currently facing the quite intimidating and scary side of Brittany.
"I am." Santana said with a lopsided smile and nod of her head.
"Ladies, I saw the long of women, whose kisses you were trying on." A distinctly male broke into the tense air surrounding the three women. They all turned towards the voice to find an overly muscled man decked out in Ed Hardy clothes. "Clearly you weren't finding anything you liked, and should taste this flavor." He smirked and then winked at Santana. "I'm just the right amount of caliente, baby."
"No, you're not." Santana snapped.
"Aww, how you know if you don't try, lil' mama."
Brittany unwrapped her arms from around Santana, took her flat brimmed Cal cap off and placed it crookedly on Santana's head. She straightened up her posture and stepped into the guy's space.
"Step off my bitch if you want the use of your dick past tonight." Brittany's tone was menacing, it held a promise that she would uphold. The guy took a step backwards, his eyes widened in shock. When he hadn't moved after a couple moments, Brittany spoke again, "You going to stand there all night or go to the sewage drain you crawled out of?"
"I was just - I was just playin'. Ha. Haha...heh." The guy raised his hands in a placating gesture and looked at Santana and spoke "Your girl is crazy."
"I know, isn't it so hot?" Santana smirked as the guy shrank away. She turned to Brittany and placed her arms around her girlfriend's waist. "You're so sexy when you get all possessive, babe."
"Sorry, sorry. I know you're your own woman." Brittany pouted.
"...and that right there is why it's okay, Brittany." Santana placed a soft, yet lingering, kiss next to Brittany's ear. They stood like that, with Santana tracing calming strokes down Brittany's back, long enough to coax Brittany down from her angry place. Santana pulled back slightly and turned her head to face Brittany, forgetting about the fitted cap she was now wearing and almost hit Brittany in the eye with the flat bill. "Oops, sorry, forgot it was there." She rolled her eyes and then looked deeply into Brittany's. "I love you, Brittany Pierce."
"Always." Brittany breathed in and placed a quick peck to Santana's lips with hers. "You're so cute in my hat, baby." Brittany gripped the bill of the hat and played with it, moving it back and forth, showing how it was obviously too big to be on Santana's head.
"It makes me look like I'm five." Santana pouted.
"Aww, I knew you when you were five." Brittany winked. "You were cuter then." She took the hat off of Santana and put it back on her own head. Santana barked out a laugh and lightly slapped Brittany on the arm.
"Uh, God, that was disgustingly cute." Jones invaded their bubble. They stepped away from each other and looked at her. "Listen, I'm sorry. I really was just messing around, not trying to encroach on your relationship at all, okay? I want you two to ride off into the sunset together with lots of babies and puppies and ducks and shit. I thought we were just playing around, Britt. Seeing that douchebag kinda made me realize what an ass I was being." Jones turned to Santana. "I'm sorry for taking advantage of your kindness of even paying up for a joke bet that none of us took seriously."
"Hmm." Brittany squinted her eyes.
"Britty." Santana laughed and softly elbowed Brittany.
"Okay, fine, you admitted that you're an ass and you apologized, showing that you actually respect my unicorn." Brittany nodded and smiled. "I'm thirsty, we need a pitcher and I wanna sit down."
"I think Jones owes us that pitcher." Santana pointedly glanced at Jones. "Get us extra glasses."
"You got it." Jones nodded. Brittany and Santana joined their hands and headed off towards where the team and friends had congregated.
xXx
"Yo, Lopez!" Santana turned and came face to face with Puck. "I was gonna step in when that douche showed up, but you know how my brain gets when Britt gets all bro-like."
"Bro-like?" Santana tilted her head back, "It's not like she grows a dick, Puckerman."
"Dude, I hope not, that'd totally get me confused about those times we-"
"You need to forget that ever happened." Santana cut him off. "When did you get here and why didn't you say hi?"
"I'm saying hi now." Puck shrugged and brought Santana and Brittany in for a long hug, reveling in how they still felt the same, even though they were all a bit taller and broader. They still fit together like misfit toys. "Hey Britt."
"I don't have a penis." She shrugged with a tilted smile, as if she were sorry to disappoint.
"That's okay; I'm a one penis man." His eyes squinted. Santana bit her lip. "Whatever, come on, Blaine and I have a table over there." Puck motioned with his head.
"I never thought I'd be happy to see your ass again." Santana followed Puck, lightly pulling Brittany along with their intertwined fingers. The back of the pub was crowded and the team dancing around and singing in victory celebrations didn't make it any easier to move. Santana knew if she let go of Brittany's hand, it'd take forever to get her back from the land of dancing and singing.
"Whatever, you love my ass." Puck smirked over his shoulder.
"She did, it was the thing she talked about most when you were...whatever you two were." Brittany shrugged. "I'm still a bit fuzzy about that high school thing."
"Dude, I've blocked that shit out." Puck nodded. "Our high school experience was fucked."
"Literally." Santana laughed.
"And thoroughly." Puck raised his eyebrows up and down twice. He brought his arm up and gestured to the booth, where Blaine was sitting and smiling at them.
"Hello ladies, congratulations on your outstanding victory." He hugged Brittany who had slid into the booth first. Puck took the other end of the booth, sitting next to Blaine, while Santana sat next to Brittany.
"Ever so polite." Santana rolled her eyes then actually looked at him. His hair was longer and even though she could tell an effort was made, she noticed a distinct lack of gel. He wore a cerulean v-neck tee shirt, which actually looked really good next to Puck in his purple tee. "No bowtie?"
"No." Blaine shook his head and laughed. He looked at Puck and held out his hand, where a twenty was instantly placed.
"Dammit Lopez." Puck scowled.
"Fuck off, it's not my fault you still make shitty ass bets."
"I like your hair, its pretty." Brittany played with Blaine's curls, her chin resting on his shoulder. "I thought you turned into a broccoli when you didn't feed it product."
"I thought you didn't recognize me."
"People thought a lot of things about me, it was easier." Brittany shrugged.
"You had your protection mechanisms, and I had mine."
"I get that, our ponytails and cheerio uniforms were equal to your gel and bowties." Santana sipped from her pint glass. "Really doesn't explain your lack of socks, that was just unhygienic."
"Just because you don't understand European men's fashion, Santana -" Blaine was cut off by Brittany.
"Don't let her goad you, she never wears socks with her Oxford's either." Brittany lifted her head from Blaine's shoulder and whispered into his ear, "She calls it nouveau Blaine when she's in a good mood."
"Britts, you're totally ruining my game here." Santana tried to remove the blush staining her cheeks; even if the bar was dark she knew they could see the subtle darkening of her skin.
"What game, Lo?" Puck guffawed.
"I got it right the first time," Santana winked at Brittany, then shrugged. "I never needed to work on it."
"I don't know that seemed pretty smooth to me." Brittany smiled.
"That's because she speaks Brittany, Britt." Blaine pointed out.
"You're on Puck's side, Potter?" Santana leaned back and crossed her arms, eyeing him.
"Well, he has had everyone at this table." Blaine shrugged.
"So have Britts and I, what does...wait." Santana's eyes widened, she sat up and looked back and forth between Puck and Blaine, as if she could visibly see something connecting them. Santana looked at Brittany for confirmation. "I call bullshit."
"Why would he lie? It's Puck." Brittany grinned and shrugged.
"Hey! Excuse me, rude." Puck scoffed. He noticed Santana eyeing him thoughtfully and started drinking from his beer to ignore her.
"Well, he was amazing at oral." Santana smirked as Puck choked on his beer.
"Evil." Brittany and Blaine said at the same time with matching evil smiles.
"I have to pee pee." Brittany sat up suddenly and pushed at Santana.
"I'm moving, I'm moving sheesh, Britt." Santana helped Brittany out of the booth and gave her a kiss, "Don't be long love, you know I get paranoid about you falling in."
"That was one time and it was a GOLD toilet, San." Brittany rolled her eyes, took off her hat and placed it jauntily on Santana's head. "Just in case though, you keep this clean for me."
"Go, relieve yourself, woman." Santana smiled and smacked Bittany on the ass. Santana watched Brittany until she disappeared into the crowd before sitting down.
"You two are as adorably cute as ever."'
"More like disgustingly cute." Puck snorted, "How many cavities do you have from all that constant sugar?"
"Ugh," Santana ran a hand through her hair. "I swear we're not usually this schmoopy, but it's been a rough night."
"Yeah, what was up with you two mackin’ on all the ladies?"
"Before the race, Brittany might've bet our luscious lady lips if the team managed to win." Santana sighed.
"I swear I'll never understand the inner workings of your relationship." Blaine shook his head.
"Which is good, 'cause we don't want you near our lady bits." Santana scoffed. She started to play with an empty coaster on the table. "My gut's never been wrong before. We both thought we'd lose for sure. Destined for second place, if you'd seen the way the team had been acting the whole trip, you would've thought so too."
"Dude, I remember your gut thingie, it was the perfect Quinn radar." Puck lifted the glass to his lips and took another drink.
"Excuse me?" Santana scrunched her brows.
"You used to start complaining about not feeling good and, like, five minutes later Quinn would show up like clockwork." Puck looked at Blaine and shrugged.
"Fuck that, I would've noticed."
"I shit you not, you ask Britt when she gets back, she'll have my back on this."
"Whatever." Santana waved the topic off with her hand. "Listen, Blaine, and I guess you too Puck, I was thinking..."
"About?" Blaine leaned towards Santana, Puck mirrored him.
"Not now, okay, I don't want anyone freaking out and getting over excited about anything, okay." Santana glared at the guys, "But it's kind of inevitable that Britts and I are going to want to make some sort of official statement, or whatever, and I know she's been wearing my promise ring since junior high, but I kind of really love the idea of her..." Santana took a sip of her beer. "I'll literally mean forever this time, you know? I know what it means now and I know that there's no one else that could ever..." The corner of Santana's lip rose and she shrugged.
"I think it's a wonderful idea, Santana." Blaine encouraged her. Puck nodded in his silent agreement.
"But, like, it's Britt, you know? A gold band and diamond seems so lame, so un-Brittany like. That's more up my alley, you know? So I was looking into other options. Did you know that they make titanium, carbon fiber and stone rings? They just seem sturdier, something perfect for Britt who's always getting herself into the weirdest adventures." Santana softly chuckled. "...and if this whole Laura Croft thing she wants to do ends up happening, and let's face it, it's Britt, it will. I don't know. I just think it doesn't need to be flashy or traditional, nothing could possibly shine brighter than Brittany."
The guys were silent; they turned to each other and seemed to have a wordless conversation. After a moment, Blaine nodded.
"It sounds perfect, Tana." Puck took Santana's hand in his. "You know her better than anyone else ever could. You know she'd be happy with a string or a fuckin' ring pop, but this is so beyond perfect, it's got Brittany's name all over it. I know you didn't ask for my advice, but if you wimp out and get something traditional I'm totally swiping your bro card."
Santana laughed and shook her head, rolling her eyes.
"I'd look a bit more into the structural stability of the materials, if you're that worried about it. It's hard to think any of those thing would break easily though. I'm sure there are some really amazing custom crafters out there, so you could get something truly unique. I can ask my people in the fashion industry for you."
"What people, it's Kurt. Don't even play like you've got a shit ton of people, Blaine." Puck laughed and pushed Blaine's shoulder. Santana smirked.
"If you could, I'd be thankful. I just want some trustworthy options and hearing that I'm not crazy for this idea is nice." Santana played with the corner of the coaster. "It's just...it's Britt, you know?"
"Yeah, we know."
"Speaking of, where is she?" Puck lifted his head to look around the bar. Santana scowled and did the same.
"Seriously, with the night we've been having..." Santana zeroed in on blonde hair, a black and white striped top and baggy ripped jeans, she'd know Brittany anywhere and Brittany was currently trying to escape the clutches of another guy who apparently couldn't take no for an answer. "You’ve got to be shitting me. I’ll be right back."
Santana stood up, barely noticing Puck hold Blaine back with an arm to his chest and a shake of his head. She weaved her way through the crowded, and mostly drunk, bar and slid up behind Brittany. Santana slowly wrapped her arms around Brittany's waist and gently pulled her closer, so that her back was flush against Santana's front and out of the guy's hands on Brittany's arms.
"Hey Honey, what's taken so long?" Santana moved her hands in soothing motions on Brittany's stomach, "I missed you."
"Timmy was telling me about his dog falling down a well." Brittany leaned her head back against Santana's shoulder, a comforting side effect of Santana wearing high heels that evening. Brittany's voice reminded Santana of high school, it had been many years since Santana had heard that exact tone. She'd been worried enough with what she had seen across the bar, hearing that tone and inflection in Brittany's voice would've been enough to make Snix break out of her cage, but hearing that code phrase tipped Santana over. A deep growl noise came from her throat, her nostrils flared. Brittany lightly stroked Santana's hand in an attempt to calm her down.
"Oh, really?" Santana looked at the cocky, prep-school looking, guy with a vicious smile.
"Uh, it's Thad, actually. I don't have a dog, but I do love it doggy style." He gave a smarmy grin, "You want to join in?"
"First off, Tiny Tim," Santana squinted and smirked, her tone was hard and cold. "When a female tells you no, she means no. When she tells you to leave her alone, you're supposed to leave her alone. When she says to get away from her and leave her alone," Santana moved Brittany behind her and stepped into his personal space. "You're supposed to take your zombie regurgitation of a face and go away, preferably off the face of the earth."
"Now listen here, bitch." Tiny Tim's face had grown red and his fists clenched.
"Secondly," Santana straightened her posture and elongated her neck as she looked down her nose at him, "I understand, by that lopsided and horrendously ugly face of yours, that your mother dropped you repeatedly as a child and your father loved to beat you with the ugly stick. But even my five year old nephew from Denmark understands what gay means, and he definitely understands what that band around her finger means." Santana lifts up Brittany's hand, showing off the simple band that has been there since junior high. "So, I don't comprehend why you wouldn't back the fuck up off my wife."
"Whatever, you chicks are pretending all the time." Tiny Tim shrugged and smirked, his face was red and eyes squinted, "You just want more attention."
"It is not our fault that your mere existence is enough to induce the need to jump off a building to escape your existence, but it is definitely your fault that you are a vile being that is destined to become the most popular bottom in prison. Not that any of them would want to touch your disease ridden ass."
Tiny Tim took a step backward and it temporarily broke Santana's focus. The dull roar of the bar had gone completely silent, except for the old jukebox playing an antiquated song. A crowd had gathered around them. Santana sent a glance behind her to find that her teammates had come and stood around Brittany forming a tall, stocky, and intimidating wall of protection.
"And lastly, Tiny Tim," Santana turned back around and made sure to emphasize the tiny, "I don't care about your sexual preference for dogs and their sexual practices. So, I'm definitely not interested in contaminating my trusty and beautiful strap on-"
"And amazing." Brittany supplied, almost distracting Santana off course.
"Indeed. I'm not interested in having to purchase a new one just because you like to take it up your hairy and pimple encrusted ass." Santana looked at the crowd and sighed, "A good toy is so much harder to find than a douchebag."
"Amen!" Santana shook her head at Blaine's voice carrying out so loudly from the other side of the bar.
"You need to leave, now, before one of these lovely people gives you a hard life lesson." Santana turned and intertwined her fingers with Brittany's already outstretched hand, gripping it comfortingly. She moved her head to glare at Tiny Tim over her shoulder, "They'll go a lot easier on you than I ever would." Santana placed a lingering kiss on Brittany's temple before walking towards their booth with Blaine and Puck.
Their forward momentum was stopped by a vice-like grip on Santana’s shoulder. She looked down at the hand and then over her shoulder to see a seething Tiny Tim.
“You’re not going anywhere you little cunt.” He squeezed his hand even tighter.
“Wow, you really are an idiot aren’t you?” Santana was slightly awestruck at the guy’s intelligence. She quickly turned toward the guy, her arm looped around his and locked it in place as she brought her other hand up and drove her fist straight into the guy’s nose. She brought her hand to the arm she still had a hold on and leveraged the guy down, face first, onto the ground and squeezed it at an unnatural angle. The rage in her slipped through into her voice as she said, “Fucking move, I dare you.”
“San.” Brittany lightly placed her hand on the middle of Santana’s back. “Its okay let him go.”
Santana tightened her grip slightly before releasing him. She stood up, grabbed Brittany’s hand and headed back to her friends. When they reached the booth the guys were waiting for them with their jackets on and their hands outstretched, holding out the women’s own coats.
“C’mon, we’re taking you home.” Puck helped Santana into her jacket.
“You ladies deserve some pampering,” Blaine helped Brittany into her coat. “Or at least the comfort of being in a home with people who love you and not some sterile hotel room.”
“You guys don’t have to do that.” Santana looked at Blaine and leaned into Puck’s chest.
“Nonsense, you were going to spend tomorrow with us anyway. This way you can wake up to the most delicious breakfast you’ve ever had.” Blaine smiled and then led the group towards the exit.
“Oh, you cocky huh?” Santana jested.
“Actually, Puck is a culinary genius.”
“No way! You never made us food!” Brittany pouted.
“Well, now I will.” Puck winked.
xXx
It was too dark outside to see the exterior of the house, there was just enough light to notice that it was in a Craftsman style and it brought a smile to Santana’s face. She always had a soft spot for those. Her smile grew as she stepped into the fully restored interior. She attributed the clean interior and tasteful décor to Blaine, mostly due to having seen the constant disarray of Puck’s room and truck in high school. The house was beautiful, but she and Brittany were too exhausted to stay up to explore and chat.
“Here’s your room,” Puck opened the door, switched on the light and carried their bags over to the chair in the corner by the window. “It’s my room; I’ll be taking the couch.” He snorted when he saw Brittany eyeing the bed with a scrunched up nose. “The sheets are clean, I promise. Blaine and I were planning on trying to coerce the two of you to stay over tonight anyway.”He smiles, moves to the other door in the room and opens it up, “Here’s the bathroom, fresh towels ‘n everything.”
“Thanks, Puck.” Santana gave him a crooked smile.
“No worries.” He said as he pulled the two of them in for a hug. “We’d love to stay up and talk with you if you need, but I think you ladies probably want some alone time. Take care of yourselves, whatever way you need.”
“Thanks, Puck.” Brittany leaned her head on his shoulder.
“Just holler if there’s anything you need.” He kissed Brittany on the crown of her head and headed to the door, but paused on the way out, “Hey, ‘Tana?”
“Yeah?” She replied then, when he didn’t say anything, she looked at him and saw him nod her over. She looked to Brittany, motioned to the bathroom and said, “Go ahead.” Before walking over to Puck.
“I just, uh…” He shrugged and dug his hands into his pockets. “I know I was an ass back in the day and our history is all sorts of kinda fucked up, but I hope that, uh—“
“Noah,” Santana stopped him with her hand on his forearm. “You’ve been an idiot and an asshole, but you’ve never gone to that place.” She rubbed his arm and nodded, “You might’ve liked to pretend to be a bad guy in front of the school, I did that too, but you treated us like queens. Britt and I have both known that you’ve had our back since before you even knew it.”
“Okay, I just wanted to apologize just in case. I totally wanted to kick that dude’s ass.” Puck scowls, “knew you had it though, my lezbros be badasses.” He grinned which made Santana laugh. “Go take care of your girl,” he winked and escaped through the door before Santana could smack him in the back of the head.
She chuckled as she walked over to the bathroom.
“That was sweet.” Brittany had lit the candles that line the huge bathtub that’s been filled with water, and was sitting, unclothed, on the edge waiting for Santana.
“He’s as much of a badass as I ever was.” Santana rolled her eyes and started undressing.
“Maybe not badass,” Brittany stood and started to slowly help Santana undress. “But so much stronger than either of you know.
“Fuck, tonight sucked, baby.” Santana pouted and suddenly pulled Brittany in for a hug.
“Aww, I know.” Brittany nodded and ran her hands over Santana’s bare back in soothing patterns. She knew every muscle there, every point that tickled, and every point that made her squirm. After all the years and things they’d gone through, there wasn’t a single thing about Santana’s body that she didn’t know. Brittany kissed Santana’s temple, cheek, ear and neck in comforting rotation, until the tears subsided. Brittany kept her hands rubbing Santana’s back even though she slightly pulled away, “How’s your hand?”
“Hurts.” Santana frowned and brought her hand up to look at it. “S’not broken, which is good ‘cause I was the idiot who used her left hand, but it hurts like a bitch.”
“You’ll just have to make up for it tomorrow morning, then.” Brittany brought her hands to Santana’s and kissed the bruised knuckles. She lightly stroked the injured hand.
“I’ve got two hands, you know.”
“I know, but I need to—“
“Okay.” Santana leaned in and kissed Brittany, it was simple, their mouths touching and noses to cheeks, they stood there just breathing in each other for a moment, slowly allowing the world to fade away.
“Come on, the water’s getting cold.” Brittany pulled away and kneeled to help Santana step out of her skirt. She placed a soft kiss on Santana’s abdomen, just below the belly button, before sliding back up Santana’s body, making sure to have as much contact as possible. When she straightened, Brittany wrapped her arms around Santana in an almost crushing embrace, like she was physically trying to absorb Santana into herself. Santana squeezed back just as hard.
Brittany stepped into the tub first; she slowly lowered herself against the back of the tub and opened her legs for Santana to climb between. She made sure to get as close to Brittany as possible, leaning back against her chest, head resting on Brittany’s shoulder. Santana traced Brittany’s neck with her nose. They sat there like that, with their fingers intertwined, for some time. They welcomed the silence of each other’s breaths, the soft glow of the candles that surrounded them in a cocoon of comforting light. The water was warm and soothing, the combination of the temperature and scent of the bath salts slowly drained all the tensions of the day away. Brittany eventually started to stroke Santana’s stomach in gentle unintelligible patterns; the hand not intertwined with Santana’s traveled the expanse with the speed of molasses on a winter’s day. Brittany didn’t move her hands anywhere until she heard that first little moan escape through Santana’s lips.
She then moved upwards, taking Santana’s hand with hers. Brittany languidly massaged, taking care to pay special attention to the nipples that stood erect. Santana moved her unattended hand up and behind her to wrap around the back of Brittany’s neck, tangling her fingers in and clutching to the hair at the nape. She whimpered and rolled her hips and Brittany took the hint and moved one of her hands down Santana’s stomach, she traced the most sensitive areas along the way to the junction of Santana’s legs. Her fingers circled once…twice…and on the third, after a whimpered plea, she entered Santana.
They remained silent, apart from soft moans and whimpers of appreciation that escaped through Santana’s lips. Brittany took her time bringing Santana to the brink, trying to tattoo her love into Santana with the most intricate patterns of affection and comfort.
“Britt.” Santana softly gasped, seeking out Brittany’s mouth and finding it just before she came undone.
They stayed in that tub long after they’d both started to prune, neither wanted to leave the comfort of their cocoon. They traced patterns along all the skin they could find, introducing themselves to each other as if it were the first time, but with the knowledge of the areas to avoid and the ones to pay special care to. Eventually they got out, took turns drying the other off, and fell asleep in each other’s arms, but not before sharing one last exchange.
“I love you.”
“Always.”