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"I'm not breaking up with Sam. I really like him. And he makes me feel really smart and think about things, like where air comes from and how come in every movie about Jesus he dies at the end."
"Look, I'm not expecting you to start dating me again. I'm taken."
(Brittany rolls her eyes.)
"I just want you to aim higher."
"I know that you're not dating Elaine. She told me that you paid her with scratchers tickets and an Ani DiFranco t-shirt to pretend to be her girlfriend. And I also know that you dropped out of school."
-----
"I think you need to be somewhere that's as big and as hot as you are. It's okay to follow your dreams."
"No, Brittany, you... you have no idea what it's like out in there in the real world. No one gives a damn about you."
"Rachel found a new guy and I hear Kurt did, too. Why shouldn't you get the chance to be around people who are like you, who appreciate you? Be a part of a community. Why can't you have a real girlfriend? But not a best friend because that part is already taken."
"You really are a genius, Brittany."
"Duh."
"And you're my best friend."
Santana was lying on her bed scrolling through her Instagram account, feigning disgust as she liked a photo Rachel Berry had just posted of her and her new boyfriend, Brody, when a text message from her ex-girlfriend, Brittany, popped up across the top of her phone. She ignored it, flicked it away immediately, in fact, and kept scrolling through posts doling out free virtual hearts.
She had been snooping through Rachel and Kurt Hummel's posts the past couple of days trying to make it look like she gave a damn about them and to sweeten them up as best as one could do through social media. She needed something to fall back on when she went through with her plan to show up on their doorstep in a few days carrying only a large piece of luggage. They were her ticket to New York City and a few months of free food and rent.
Santana groused when another text from Brittany flashed across the screen and interrupted her stalking barely four minutes later.
She sighed as she succumbed to the curiosity of what could be so urgent. She and Brittany hardly spoke these days, so two text messages back to back was a little unusual. These days she might get one text message in the span of two weeks. It wasn't that either of them were on bad terms with the other, but they were simply giving each other space. They were best friends, they would always be best friends, but their status as ex-girlfriends got in the way sometimes. Right now it played the bigger role in their lives.
Santana had become extremely jealous that Brittany had a boyfriend now, a fact she quickly rebuffed when their mutual friend, Tina, had so bluntly asked her. It was then that she knew she needed to cut Brittany off, even if only temporary. She still had strong feelings for her and it only made her feel like complete and utter crap because their separation itself was only supposed to be temporary. It was supposed to ease the heartache of being in a long-distance relationship, not make it a thousand times worse.
She did tell Brittany she could date other people, but hell, she didn't think she would actually do it. She didn't want her to do it. She just thought it was something she was supposed to say. When she found out, she lost her temper and flipped out. Now she has two decent-sized holes in her bedroom wall thanks to a pair of flying Tory Burch heels.
That story is for a different day, though, and Santana would never tell anyone that she cried herself to sleep over it for an entire week. Her puffy, red eyes fooled no one, but no one dared to ask her what was wrong either. Either they knew exactly what was bothering Santana, or they knew she simply wouldn't talk about it.
Maribel Lopez learned the hard way when she asked her daughter, during a dinner party with extended family nonetheless, if she was so moody because she was having a girl problem again. Not problems with girls, but a girl problem. The second Brittany's name came out of Maribel's mouth, Santana stormed off to her bedroom and slammed the door and wasn't seen again for nearly 24 hours. She knew she was being a bit dramatic, but this was the result of the hold Brittany had on her heart.
Brittany's new boyfriend, oddly enough, was Santana's ex-boyfriend, Sam Evans. Those damn glee club kids and their incestuous behavior is something Santana never really understood, although looking back, she had to admit she willingly participated in it. Sure, she had literally used Sam to help maintain her status as a smokin' hot heterosexual cheerleader that could get any guy she wanted, but Sam and his gigantic pillow lips did absolutely nothing for her lady loins.
Even if she did like guys, Sam Evans was anything but her type. It pissed Quinn Fabray off, Sam's other ex-girlfriend and Santana's arch nemesis at times, and that alone was enough of a reason to go through with it. That and the fact that it was time to switch things up with a new beard anyway. Bonus points if it irked Brittany, too. And it definitely did.
[Britt, 9:23 PM]: hi. what are you doing?
[Britt, 9:27 PM]: you never go to bed this early. answer me back.
[Santana , 9:33 PM]: I'm watching some weird crime documentary on Netflix. You?
It was only a little white lie. She did have her television on and someone had just been stabbed, but she wasn't paying a lick of attention. What she wouldn't tell her is that she had just finished stalking her Instagram account and was too busy sulking because Brittany had uploaded a photo of her and Sam just three hours ago with three pink heart emojis as the only caption beneath it.
It was the first post Brittany had ever made about her new flame and it made things feel a little too real for Santana. She felt so nauseous that she took a minute to close her eyes and focus on her breathing or else she was going to hurl everywhere. Nothing felt worse than knowing Brittany had officially replaced her with a boy with a mouth the size of a hippopotamus ass.
[Britt, 9:35 PM]: cool. i thought you didn't like murder-y stuff before bed. are you home alone?
[Santana, 9:37 PM]: No. Dad is at work, but mom is asleep upstairs. You cool?
[Britt, 9:38 PM]: can i come over?
[Santana, 9:38 PM]: For what?
[Britt, 9:39 PM]: i want to see you before you leave for nyc on friday.
[Santana, 9:44 PM]: I'll see you tomorrow night. Aren't you coming to Tina's birthday dinner at Stix?
[Britt, 9:46 PM]: i kinda want to see you now. can i call you real quick?
[Santana, 9:47 PM]: It's late and I'm really tired. Don't you have school tomorrow?
[Britt, 9:49 PM]: santana. come on.
[Santana, 9:49 PM]: ???
Brittany didn't text her again and her phone never rang, so Santana went back to scrolling mindlessly through her phone. She refused to give the photo of Brittany and Sam any kind of acknowledgement. Yeah, she was bitter.
She didn't care that they looked like happy little lovebirds sitting in a coffee shop with Sam's arm woven a little too tightly around her waist. She didn't care that all of their friends seemed to gush about them in the comments saying how adorable they looked together, or even that Sam had commented that he was so lucky to have found her. Santana rolled her eyes so hard at that she feared they might've rolled right out of their sockets.
Funny that Sam Evans thinks he found something that clearly belongs to someone else.
Truthfully speaking, Santana would love for Brittany to come over, or she'd love to spend all night talking to her on the phone like they used to do, but instead she chose to put those brick walls back up and protect herself. Brittany was her biggest weakness and she wasn't interested in spending the next few days wallowing in her feelings. She had a few things to finish up before she left for New York and it was better to keep distance between them to avoid any distractions.
Besides, she would see her tomorrow at Breadstix. Seeing her with Sam, seeing her as his girlfriend, would remind her why she made the decision that she did.
She was in her adjoining bathroom brushing her teeth when her phone vibrated against her nightstand, assumedly with another text from Brittany. She finished up, took a few more minutes to remove her contact lenses and wash her face, before slowly dragging her tired feet back toward her bed.
She reached for her phone and had to sit down immediately when she saw what Brittany had written. She laid her phone face down on the nightstand and squeezed her eyes shut as her heart began pounding in her chest. She bit her bottom lip and tried to calm herself before she looked again. There was no fucking way possible she had read that.
She laughed nervously, a little exasperated even, as she slid and adjusted her glasses onto her face. She picked up her phone and turned it around, shaking her head in disbelief when she read the text again. Her eyes weren't deceiving her. It was fucking possible.
[Britt, 10:22 PM]: i want sex.
It could mean a lot of things and Santana wasn't going to assume. Brittany liked sex, that much she knew. It was something they did two or three times a week at a minimum when they were dating. They probably would have went at it a little more, but time, location, and opportunity always played a roll in their escapades.
They were once caught by Brittany's mom in a very comprising position in the laundry room thinking it was the last place she'd look if she wanted to find them. They failed at their attempt to christen the ironing board. Mrs. Pierce became a little stricter after that and enforced an open door policy and Santana wasn't allowed to help with Brittany's chores. Santana paid her in scratchers tickets not to say anything to her own parents.
She remained seated on the edge of her bed and just stared down at the text. Her eyes scanned those three words over and over again; three words that confused the hell out of her.
It clearly wasn't a typo, but was it actually intended for her? Did Brittany get confused and send a text intended for Sam to her instead? She hoped it wasn't that, but once Brittany had sent a text making fun of Rachel's outfit to Rachel instead of the intended recipient, Quinn. It caused a lot of drama and a shitload of Jewish tears in the glee club for three agonizing days.
What Brittany and Sam did in their free time together, she didn't want to know. She didn't like the idea that Brittany might be summoning him for a late night booty call either. The thought of them having sex not only disgusted her, it hurt her.
After they had become official, jealously and head games a thing of the past, Brittany told Santana often enough that she could never imagine another person touching her body. She told Santana that her body was made for those strong, firm hands. Now all she could picture were Sam's rough and muscular hands all over her girl.
Santana contemplated how she should respond, and she honestly didn't know if she could. For a fleeting moment she considered ignoring it completely and pretending that she had fallen asleep, but another text slipped through as if Brittany knew better. It was as if she knew exactly what Santana was thinking, that she was letting the confusion and worry consume her.
[Britt, 10:31 PM:] santana. i want to see you tonight.
[Britt, 10:31 PM:] can i please come over?
Panic was too weak of a word for what she was feeling. It might not have been the right word at all. Astounded sounded better. Perhaps even a little exultant, pompous even. A small part of her wanted to up the bitch factor and rub it all up in Sam's face. Brittany was being mighty persistent and it kind of stroked at Santana's fragile ego.
What she definitely knew she was feeling was arousal. It was building quickly at the mere thought of the so-called predicament before them. Did Brittany want to come over just to have sex with her? I mean, let's be honest, Santana didn't give a shit about Sam or his feelings, but it was worth, you know, mentioning. She also didn't want to seem desperate, or excited, or smug, or anything else that might show Brittany something other than her tough exterior.
Her thumbs worked speedily against her phone and she hit send before she could take it back.
[Santana, 10:34 PM]: Don't you have Bubba Gump and his freakishly ginormous mouth for that now?
Santana freaked out when she saw Brittany's contact photo on the display. Instead of replying again, she called. Santana should've known better. She knew Brittany hated the little games she played and would try and shut them down when she could. Santana usually conceded embarrassingly quick, but tonight she'd try, she'd try real damn hard, to keep Brittany in her place. She had a fucking boyfriend after all.
Santana answered, but didn't utter a word. She let Brittany know she was there by sighing heavily into the receiver, as if telling her she was listening and to start talking. She could hear Brittany's unsteady breathing, the loud sound of rustling in the background, and everything seemed to shift right then and there. Something was about to go down tonight.
"Santana," Brittany began, her voice strong and directive. "I'm getting dressed now and coming over. I really want to see you."
"Because you want to get laid?" Santana questioned, suddenly feeling slighted. Hearing Brittany's voice seemed to unsettle her and she wasn't sure why. "Where's your boyfriend?"
"Shut up."
"It's late, Brittany. Just stay home. You have school tomorrow and you know your parents will flip if you sneak out."
"Who said I would be sneaking out?"
"Just stop."
"My mom knows, Santana. She knows that you're leaving for New York in a few days. I told her that I needed to see you and didn't really give her the chance to say anything else. And I'm not giving you that chance either."
"Did you also tell her that you sent me a text telling me you just want to fuck me? Or did you casually leave that part out?"
That pissed Brittany off.
"You know what? For years, for years, Santana, that's all I ever was to you. I was a warm body that you could play with with when you needed to get off. You would snap your fingers and I would come crawling. I've yet to figure out why I ever allowed that. Why are you acting so offended now that the tables are turned?"
Santana didn't have an answer for that. It was a low blow, but Santana was impressed by her tactic. Brittany used her own weapon (words, those vicious words) against her and she used them well. She was extremely confused by Brittany's forwardness, but she didn't want to question it. She didn't know what it meant because it was bound to be complicatedly layered.
Was Brittany upset that she was leaving? She seemed just fine when they talked about it in the auditorium. In fact, Brittany had encouraged her.
Santana, for once, was at a loss of words. She knew that she needed to be careful in how she responded. She was never good at expressing her thoughts and feelings with clarity, and right now it felt glaringly evident than ever before. A long silence sat between them before Brittany eventually scoffed.
"You know what? Forget it. Like you said, I'll see you tomorrow night. And I'll be there with Sam."
She knew had about 1.3 seconds to make a decision.
"Britt," Santana pleaded, her voice soft and submissive. "Hold on..."
If Brittany was anything else besides the one true love of her life, she was also Santana's kryptonite. She would always crumble when exposed to Brittany's desire for her. She knew it, Brittany knew it, their friends and family knew it. It was the one thing she couldn't hide behind those sturdy walls of hers. Hell, even Brittany's cat, Lord Tubbington, knew it.
It was a shame that he never accepted scratchers tickets from her to stay mum on the subject. There's no telling what all the crazy felines in Lima really thought of her.
Brittany was still waiting and offered a loud sigh as a signal. Santana had to say something, anything. So she went with her gut feeling.
"Get your ass over here."
When Santana opened the front door to her house after Brittany had texted that she was standing on the front porch, her breath hitched at the sight before her. Brittany looked completely and utterly disheveled. Her hair looked unkempt, which was so unlike her, just lazily thrown into a messy bun atop her head, and apparently she had thrown on the first two wrinkled articles of clothing she found on her floor.
She had bags under her eyes, apparently still wet from recent tears, and her nose was puffy and red. Santana stepped to the side and allowed Brittany in, reaching out and grabbing her hand and offering a firm squeeze. Brittany was not okay and she wasn't even trying hide it.
They headed down into the basement to Santana's room, not a word uttered between them. It felt awkward, but at the same time Santana felt eerily calm. She closed the door behind them not really knowing what to expect, and watched as Brittany tossed her bag to the floor in frustration before plopping down in Santana's oversized chair in the corner.
"You're leaving me again," Brittany whined, her bottom lip slightly quivering.
"What?" Santana questioned dumbly, making her way toward her ex-girlfriend before seating herself on the arm of the chair.
"I said you're leaving me again. First it was Louisville and now it's New York."
"Yeah, Britt, I am. But we've talked about it and I thought—"
"I thought I would be okay with it. I thought I wanted you to go. I mean, I still do! You deserve to be in a place where you'll shine even brighter than Rachel Berry, and we both know Lima can't give you that. But you're leaving me again, San, and I don't like the feeling that it gives me."
"Baby..."
The term of endearment slipped from her tongue effortlessly, but she didn't care, especially when it caused a tiny smile to crack Brittany's unusual demeanor. Yeah, she wasn't her girlfriend, but she was her baby. She always would be.
Maybe it sounded like she didn't respect Brittany's relationship with Sam, and maybe on some level she really didn't give a flying fuck, but Sam Evans was only ever going to be a placeholder. Brittany S. Pierce was her soulmate and nothing or no one could get in the way of that. They were just taking a break. It's what she had to remind herself to remain sane.
"Can I just stay with you tonight?" Brittany begged. "I don't know what I'll do if you say no. I'll even sleep on the floor if it makes it easier. Please."
It was uncharacteristic of her to act like this and it made Santana's heart patter.
"Look, I'm going to be real honest with you here," Santana began, tucking a loose lock of hair behind Brittany's ear. "I'm not a big fan of the idea of you staying here tonight, but it's not because I don't want that. It's just..."
Santana suddenly hesitated when Brittany's eyes locked with hers, a deep, deep, intoxicating blue. Temptation was at an all-time fucking high right now.
"It's just..." she continued, sighing. "I can't promise that I will keep my hands off of you. It's not that I don't have any self control, but honestly, I really don't care. It's different for you, Britt. I don't want you to regret anything. Even though I don't care, I care for you."
"Isn't it kind of late for that?"
"Is it late for what? You've been here for all of five minutes—"
Thin, salty, warm lips shut her up real fast. Brittany's intentions were to make it too late for any kind of reasoning. Santana decided not to question it anymore. Apparently Brittany needed this, needed her.
Brittany's left hand snaked around the back of Santana's neck and angled her head down as she continued to lean up to kiss her, her other hand resting on top of Santana's thigh. Santana wanted to resist, but she knew she wouldn't. She happily let Brittany kiss her, but decided to keep her hands to herself. For now, at least.
She parted her lips when she felt the tip of Brittany's tongue poke against them, savoring in the warmth and pull of their tongues curling against one another. She had to pinch her thighs together when she heard a low, rough whimper form in the back of Brittany's throat.
They really, really shouldn't be doing this, but fuck it, this was her girl. Even if just for one night. Santana wasn't strong enough to deny her this.
"You're going to let me have one last little taste, huh? You want to give me something to think about on my long ass train ride," Santana smirked. "That's a little fucked up, Britt. Don't you think?"
"Shut up. You know you want it as much as I do."
Santana knew that it was not about making love to Brittany. It was about fucking her. They both decided to put their emotions aside, even if just for tonight, or else Santana might never get on that Amtrak train from Columbus to New York City. It was scheduled to be a 16 hour trip and the last thing she wanted to do was spend most of it crying.
She was fine with feeling numb about what was about to happen. She would deal with it in the coming days if she had to. Right now was about right now. Fuck Sam. Fuck New York. Fuck any kind of change that puts a wedge between two people who loved and cared about each other so much.
It's how things shifted and became aggressive, vulgar, and typically uncharacteristic for them. It's how Santana found herself lying flat on her back feel happily submissive with Brittany straddling her thighs, both of them completely naked.
Foreplay had lasted a little too long for Santana's liking, the fact it was something Brittany really enjoyed being the only reason she didn't complain, and now she was too eager to feel Brittany inside of her. On top of her was good, it was oh so good, but inside was even better.
Any other day she would be fine with Brittany taking all the time in the world to suck hungrily on her nipples, or spending so much time kissing and biting against the taut skin of her stomach and swirling her tongue in and out of her belly button, but right now she needed more.
Those long fingers, that talented tongue, one of their few strap-ons that might be a little dusty by now — she honestly didn't care how. She was just ready for Brittany in any way that she could get her.
"You just couldn't resist one last hit before I left," Santana teased, running her hands up and down the sides of Brittany's thighs.
Brittany hummed in response and offered a smirk of her own, lowering her body before eventually settling between spread legs. She grabbed Santana roughly beneath the back of her knees and spread her even wider, eliciting a quiet oh shit from Santana.
"Are you about to take it, Britt? It's yours. I want you to fucking devour me."
"It's all mine," Brittany answered, planting a trail kisses against Santana's inner thigh.
"Fuck yeah it is. It's all yours, baby."
Santana hissed in slight discomfort when Brittany bit rather aggressively against her skin. Despite the brief moment of pain, it felt so good and only revved her up even more.
"You belong to me and only me."
"Oh, is that so?" Santana asked breathlessly, closing her eyes tightly at the sensation of Brittany's tongue snaking across her skin. "Fucking say it again. Say it like you mean it."
"Don't you ever forget who you belong to," Brittany echoed louder, biting against her again. "And I'm going to have my way with you all night so you don't forget what it feels like. So you don't forget what I feel like."
"Damn. I love it when that mouth of yours gets a little dirty," Santana purred.
"It's about to get even dirtier..."
Santana all but squealed the instant Brittany's mouth dove between her legs, eagerly making a slow, flat swipe with her tongue from bottom to top, and sucked roughly against her clit before pulling back. Santana looked down and could barely see blue eyes looking back at her before they disappeared again, feeling Brittany's arms wrap underneath her thighs to tug her even closer. Brittany continued her slow torture between Santana's legs, enjoying the taste and feel of something she very clearly missed.
Santana doesn't know how Brittany does it, but she's managed to keep her on the edge of sexual frustration for several minutes. She feels like her orgasm is near, but Brittany's movements are so slow, so deliciously slow, that it's keeping it away and prolonging their fun. Santana loved it and hated it all in the same breath. She wants to hurry up and come in Brittany's mouth, but she doesn't want Brittany's mouth anywhere else.
"Your mouth feels so… fuck, feels so damn good," Santana said, roughly grabbing a handful of Brittany's hair from between her legs before moaning loudly at a particularly sensitive nudge against her clit. "You're really enjoying that pussy tonight."
"Mmm, yeah, and it's my favorite thing to eat," Brittany answered, lifting her head for a quick breather before diving right back in.
"Fucking hell."
"I swear this is the best fucking view..."
Santana's hands gripped Brittany's waist tightly and helped to guide the circular movements against her. Santana filled her completely using one of their strap-ons, and watched as Brittany's lips parted and her eyes rolled back in her head when she would hit that spot.
This position was one of Santana's favorites because it meant she could watch every move Brittany would make and see the emotion wash over her face knowing how good it felt. Santana used to refuse to make eye contact with her during sex, but now she craved it. It was the one way they could communicate without the use of words.
Brittany rested her hands flatly against Santana's stomach, fingers splayed out as her nails dug into sweaty skin, moving her hips in circles or up and down against the strap-on. She took whatever she wanted, however she wanted it, as long as it was Santana that was beneath her. Her moves were graceful and enticing — definitely a perk of having sex with a dancer, Santana thought.
Brittany began moving even faster, riding Santana in search of her own release. Santana's eyes locked hungrily on her pink nipples as she watched her girl move around, thrusting her own pelvis upward to meet Brittany's as she came down.
"Oh my fucking God," Brittany whined.
Brittany didn't use profanity much, but when she did, and it was usually in the bedroom while she was being fucked senseless, it made Santana writhe.
"You feel so good inside of me," Brittany continued, throwing her head back as Santana grunted loudly with each thrust. "So damn good."
"Yeah, I know," Santana replied cockily, biting her bottom lip into her mouth as she continued bucking her hips against Brittany's. "I could hit this shit all night."
Their moans and grunts became louder, more animalistic. Santana had no plans to try and tame the lioness tonight. She wanted her to eat.
Santana's tone was thick with aroused aggression, "Jesus Christ, I love when you ride me like this."
"Scoot up a little closer, Britt," Santana said, lighting tapping against Brittany's ass cheek. "Little more."
Santana watched as Brittany, who was propped on her knees directly in front of her, shifted upward before dropping on all fours.
"Good," Santana smirked, rubbing a decent amount of lubrication onto the length of the strap-on before tossing the bottle into the mess of blankets on her bed.
Santana moved forward, resting her right hand on Brittany's lower back while she lined the strap-on against her entrance with her left, slowly pushing inside. She filled her halfway and paused for several seconds before slowly pulling out, eliciting a hushed moan from Brittany. The sight and sounds were nearly too much. Brittany had always loved being taken from behind.
She watched as Brittany dipped her back and arched her ass high into the air, silently begging for more. Santana smacked her ass playfully a few times, the sound loud and rough, quickly leaving a red handprint on Brittany's pale skin.
Santana guided herself back in, slowly pushing until she was inside of Brittany completely. Santana closed her eyes, relishing in the reality of who was in her bed right now, and who's bed Brittany was in, and it was all she needed to start pounding inside of her. Brittany squeaked at the sudden aggressiveness, but the two of them slowly found a matching rhythm full of lust, desire, want and need.
"Santana, fuck me."
"That's right. My name better be the only one that comes outta your mouth."
"Please fuck me."
"I am fucking you, girl. Can't you feel it? I'm going to make you come all over me. You ready?"
Brittany pushed her hips back against Santana's forward motion, feeling the strap-on tap every possible inch of her. Santana pounded into her even faster, sweat building up quickly across her forehead and neck, gritting her teeth against the building exhaustion. She wanted to go even faster, but she was afraid she might break her bed — or Brittany. She couldn't get enough.
She didn't know when she would see Brittany again, she didn't know how her relationship with Sam would progress, or what all of this would mean tomorrow morning. She only knew they both desperately wanted it tonight.
Frustration was building within her.
It was the best and worst time for her orgasm to hit. Brittany's desperate thrusts and those soft, high-pitched calls of her name is what finally tipped her over. She came so hard against Brittany, pushing her hips against her ass as she tried to tap Brittany into oblivion so they could come together, and it worked.
"You're so god damn tight. Fucking take me."
Brittany's arms and legs weakened as she collapsed forward onto the bed, her moans hushed into Santana's pillow. Santana continued to fuck her for several more seconds, aching to remember how good this felt. She only slowed her movements when Brittany eventually pleaded with her.
Santana lost count of how many orgasms she had tonight, or how many she gave Brittany, but nothing gave her as much pleasure as being curled up against a tired and clingy post-sex Brittany. This was admittedly her favorite thing in the entire world.
It was nearly one o'clock in the morning and Brittany had to be up for school soon, but she didn't want her to leave. Even just laying next to her and watching her sleep was a better deal than watching her grab her things and walk out. She wasn't ready for that.
"Stay with me tonight," Santana eventually whispered, holding onto hope that Brittany would still want to. "I can take you to school tomorrow morning. We can even swing by The Lima Bean and get you a coffee and those chocolate-covered espresso beans you like."
"Are you trying to bribe me?" Brittany asked, lifting Santana's hand to place a gentle kiss against each knuckle.
"Hmm, it depends. Is it working?"
"Kinda. I didn't bring any clothes or shower stuff, though." When Santana rolled her eyes, Brittany scoffed behind a weak laugh, "Santana, I have to take a shower before I go anywhere."
"It's not that," Santana laughed. "Trust me, you do need a shower. Sam would probably be able to smell the sex on you."
"Nasty."
"You know you can use my stuff and wear something of mine. Sam won't even notice. He's fucking clueless."
"Ooh, do you still have that comfy Ohio State hoodie that your dad gave you?"
"Mmm hmm."
"Then I can wear that."
"And you can just keep it. Give it back to me when you see me again."
"Do you really mean that?"
"Of course," Santana laughed. "It's just a stupid hoodie. I wasn't even going to take it with me."
"No, not that," Brittany said, her voice suddenly muted to a whisper. "That I'll see you again."
"What?" Santana asked, propping herself up on her elbow to take a long, confused look at Brittany. "Why would you say that? Of course we'll see each other again. I don't know when or where that might be, but there's nothing that can keep me from you."
"Yeah, but what if planes forget how to fly and trains can only go backwards?"
"You're so silly sometimes," Santana laughed, leaning down to press a soft kiss against Brittany's wide smile. "Well, if that does happen, and maybe it actually could in that little place you created called Happyville, consider me to be your very own Superman. Or Supergirl. I'll grab my super sexy cape and fly to wherever you are."
For all that she thought that Brittany was her kryptonite, it was clearly obvious that Santana was hers, too.