Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, but Brittana owns me.

It was a grey and cold Saturday in Seattle, with pedestrians running or walking faster than usual to avoid the pouring rain, and drivers splashing the streets each time they rolled over a puddle of muddy water. Umbrellas were useless as the wind whistled strongly, and bus stations were used as quick shelter. Bars and shops beneficiated from the sudden weather the most, and most cafés were suddenly full.

The Stix was no exception to this occurrence, and as the bar got busier and busier, a certain group of friends had to reconsider their choice of spending the rest of the evening here.

"Come on guys we said we'd all celebrate here first, let's just wait for Britt and Rachel and then we can move."

If Tina Cohen-Chang knew one thing, it was persuasion.

"Well Britt texted and said she's running late," said Quinn, one of Tina's good friends.

"And Berry is probably still mouth washing so she can sing for the occasion," muttered Santana, sitting opposite Mike Chang, Quinn's husband.

"You'll have to excuse Santana," smirked Kurt, "she's been typing all night and still managed to come up with a blank page."

"Shut the fuck up," answered Santana in a false undignified tone, though it came out more high-pitched than she anticipated. "For your information it's hard to finish a novel when your roommates are singing and painting each other's fucking toenails at 3am."

Kurt laughed while Quinn and Tina snickered. "Hey you can't always blame your roomies, Santana. Besides, if I remember correctly, you were the one who suggested we move in with you."

"Ugh don't remind me," said Santana, rolling her eyes exaggeratedly and then looking at her manicured nails.

Truth be told –though she'd never admit it out loud– Santana was more than glad she wasn't alone in that four bedroom house her parents had left her when they decided to move to France permanently, right after she graduated from college.

At first she'd thought the loneliness would be a welcomed feeling; especially if she wanted to focus on her writing; but soon enough that feeling grew stronger, and she surprised herself first when she offered a room to Kurt, one of her close friends. He had just gone through a harsh breakup with his boyfriend of five years, and the studio he once shared with Blaine Anderson was just too full of memories for him to stay in. Several months later it was Rachel's turn to be offered a room, as the small play she was in got canceled and she couldn't find another job to pay the rent for her apartment anymore. Now, two years later, she worked as a temporary music teacher and also helped Kurt out with his fashion boutique. Of course her Broadway dreams were nowhere near vanished, hence the annoying operettas she belted out every day at the Lopez-Hummel-Berry house.

"Well I'm sure they'll both be here soon," Tina smiled, looking towards the entrance of the bar.

As a group, The Stix was probably the place they all hanged out at the most. Of course Santana's spacious house was often second choice, most of the time for their impromptu get-togethers, but they enjoyed the atmosphere of the bar. The manager, Puck, liked them enough to serve them free drinks here and there, and he was always aware of nearby parties or new clubs they could check out.

When Brittany finally got the job she wanted as a fulltime kindergarten teacher, they had all decided to celebrate. They'd first suggested throwing a party for both her new job and upcoming birthday, but Brittany had insisted she only wanted a quiet thing with her closest friends at their usual place.

"Rachel's here," Sam piped in after swallowing a mouthful of Doritos.

As the aspiring star made her way to the table and greeted everyone with her usual bubbly words, Santana couldn't help but feel more and more uneasy. Brittany was bound to walk through the door any minute now, and it would only be a reminder of the promise Santana had made to herself.

Sure it was a promise that was months in the making –eleven to be exact– but she was sick of perpetually running away from it. Brittany's birthday was in a few days, and Santana had planned to finally tell her how she felt. Maybe she wouldn't go for the whole "I am so head-over-heels in love with you I want to make you my wife" approach, but at least she'd admit her feelings… and maybe throw in the whole peen deal while she was at it too. That couldn't hurt, right?

Ugh Lopez your plan is shit.

"Are you okay, San?" Whispered Quinn.

Santana snapped out of her inner turmoil and looked back at Quinn with a false smile. "I'm fine, don't worry." Quinn gave her a doubtful look, but shrugged it off when Mike started talking about his upcoming plans for their dancing studio.

Santana only listened with one ear as her thoughts got jumbled again, and she caught herself wondering if she made a mistake when she told Quinn about her feelings for Brittany. Of course she knew she could trust her high school best friend, even if Quinn had admitted more than once she had the urge to tell Mike about it too, and it'd been a relief to at least confide in one person. However, ever since, Quinn went from smirking at her when Brittany did anything remotely close to Santana –like hug her spontaneously or lay her head on her shoulder during a movie– to shooting her less than subtle concerned looks when Santana felt particularly down. It was nice to know Quinn was there for her if she needed to vent about Britt's shitty string of relationships and how none of them deserved her, but sometimes she just needed to shut down and deal with the situation alone.

"Hey guys, sorry I'm late!"

Speak of the Goddess.

Brittany was soaked. Blonde disheveled hair dripping slightly, clothes wet and somewhat rumpled, and yet Santana found her more and more beautiful each time she saw her. It was a problem, really.

"Hey Britt," Mike smiled, moving a bit so she could sit down next to him, facing Santana.

"Did I miss anything juicy?" Asked Brittany with a mischievous smile on her face. She was such a sucker for gossip.

"Well actually," Rachel announced, "I was going to ask you guys for advice on Jesse…"

Santana grunted and rolled her eyes. "Oh hell no, you've been moaning about him for a month now, just ask him out already."

"Don't be a bitch Santana," said Quinn.

"Wait who's Jesse?" Asked Britt with a frown.

With a soft resigned sigh, Santana tuned out the rest of the conversation, knowing Rachel was going to fully detail her barely existent history with the vocal colleague she had her eyes on. However, she couldn't help but smile at Brittany's deep concentrated look –the girl truly had the patience of a saint– while downing the rest of her beer and wondering if she'd really have the guts to set her plan into motion next week.

After a few more drinks and their usual everyday topics, the group all went back to the Lopez house (Kurt and Rachel once insisted they call it the Hummelberrez residence, but that didn't fly too well over Santana's head) to enjoy her flat screen tv and the comfort of the warm and welcoming living room. Having filthy rich parents sure had its advantages, though Santana prided herself in making her own money. Still, not having to pay rent was a burden off her shoulders.

As the girls settled on the luxurious leather couch and the guys all hovered near the tv to catch the latest baseball game, Santana went into the kitchen to get the beers. She was always prepared to get raided when the group was here, especially if the guys were watching any kind of game. While she was on her way back to the living room though, she caught herself staring at the blonde figure plopped on her couch, and her legs stopped functioning mid doorway.

Brittany was nothing short of divine with her hair still in complete disarray, and her eyes sparkling as she laughed at something Quinn said. But there was so much more to her than that. Like her playful confidence or the way she pouted when someone didn't agree with her. There was the way she moved on a dance floor too, without any fear of being a total goof in front of complete strangers. Her loyalty to her friends was admirable as well, and she was always the first to offer or seek for advice, showing how much she trusted the people she was with. Her laugh was captivating too, and the occasional mischief in her eyes always served to drive Santana crazy.

Most of all, it was her subtle vulnerabilities that drew Santana in the most. The way she would get all misty-eyed if they saw a particularly sad movie, but then brush it off as dust in her eye. The way she would stare out the window sometimes and sigh quietly, –no doubt thinking about that day, seven years ago, when a car crash took her parents away from her. Santana saw it all in her eyes; the sadness and the bitterness, the silent pain and the scars that would stay etched in her heart. She would do anything to take that pain away and make it hers, if only Brittany would just let her. But she also knew the blonde was strong on her own, and her persistent optimism got her through many harsh times.

Santana wished she could tell Brittany all these things; how she wanted to be there for her each time she felt down, how she would lift her chin up and wipe her tears, cry and laugh with her until their stomachs ached; how badly she just wanted to be with her.

And if words failed her, she would do her best to show her.

She could imagine it so clearly; taking Brittany on that very same couch she was laying on. She'd make sure she was enjoying it too.

She'd settle between her thighs and kiss her first, brushing her lips against soft pink ones, trying to convey just how much she felt. Clothes would be taken off and thrown on the floor in a matter of seconds, and after devoting her hands and tongue to Brittany's full breasts, she'd spread those long legs wide so finally –finally– she could make love to the girl she adored.

After asking for permission with a silent look, she'd enter her until she was fully settled inside her, swallowing her moan of pleasure by kissing her swiftly. She'd make sure to make Brittany come at least twice before giving into her own climax, cherishing the girl until her name was the only thing on her mind. She'd love her so vividly that there would be no turning back ever again, and this would be the first time of many more to come. Near the end, when Brittany would be moaning and panting her name in a sheer desperate manner, a thin layer of sweat making her body glisten, she would thrust inside her faster and deeper than before, and whisper the three words that kept her heart beating. I love you, I love you, I love you…

She hummed absently as she imagined Brittany whimpering in both pleasure and utter bliss, her arms tightening around her neck as she'd whisper the words back. I love you too, oh god I love you...

It would be her final undoing without a doubt, and as she'd feel Brittany's inner walls clench around her cock for the third time, milking it so perfectly, she'd let herself go, filling the girl under her with her seed.

She could imagine the scene so clearly it hurt to think about it any further; to envision sweet kisses shared in a post-coital state, noses nuzzling and fingers intertwining, to-

"Ahem," she heard, making her head snap violently to the right and a bone in her neck crack. Fuck that hurt.

Mike was looking at her with a glint in his eye, and it was all it took for her own eyes to widen. "Mike," she almost squeaked.

Oh god, I must look like a freak. For how long have I been standing here? She wondered.

"Is there something you want?" She enquired with false composure. Internally she cringed, trying to angle her body differently. Of all times to have a boner!

"Yeah… You said you'd get the beers ten minutes ago," he stated, amusement laced in his voice.

Shit. "Oh yeah sure- I mean h-here," she stuttered, shoving the pack into Mike's hands and quickly brushing past him, not bothering to answer when she heard his surprised voice.

Instead she walked (or rather sprinted) across the living room without stopping –and certainly not looking at her– and climbed the stairs to reach the bathroom.

After she entered the room she locked the door behind her, and walked to the sink to splash cold water on her face.

Breathe Santana, breathe.

It wasn't like this was anything new. She got hard thinking about her fantasies many times before, but she'd always been alone, and she'd never been that close to walking towards Brittany and kissing her senseless once and for all. God she had it bad.

She was a grown woman, yet she still felt like a hormonal bomb ready to explode. She had to outgrow this. Whatever it took, she just had to accept that Brittany wasn't hers to claim... or make mad passionate love to, or kiss until both their hearts overfilled with love, or- Damnit Santana!

… It wouldn't hurt to imagine one last time would it?

With that thought in mind and a soft resigned sigh, she lowered her pants until they fell to her ankles, quickly joined by her special briefs.

Gripping her throbbing cock with one hand and holding herself up with the other on the sink, she lost herself in the familiar pleasure that coiled deep inside her, moving her left hand with practiced ease.

Shutting her eyes closed, she tried thinking about different ways to get herself off. At first she attempted a rough approach, imagining bending a random girl over and taking her roughly. But then said girl morphed into a blonde, tall-legged one, and Santana immediately stopped herself from going there.

She tried thinking about the various kinks she always read and heard about; the slutty nurse and the patient, the horny teacher and the student, the pirate and the wench… God those are so fucking tacky. She groaned in frustration.

None of that helped, and little by little she felt herself growing more irked than satisfied, her hand starting to move more sloppily. Nothing would do except Brittany; it was foolish to think otherwise, and soon Santana gave into her thoughts.

There was no place for sweet and slow anymore, and as she imagined Brittany pressed against the shower wall, her cock entering her from behind, she knew there was no turning back.

Gripping her shaft harder and accelerating her pace, she bit her lip to stop herself from moaning too loud, or worse even, scream out Brittany's name. She pumped faster and faster, driving herself into near ecstasy as she thought about rolling Brittany's nipples between her fingers and adding pressure to her clit.

"Oh god Britt…" She moaned wantonly, hips thrusting as they followed her imagination. "I'm so close," she whispered desperately.

With one last thought about Brittany's tight, wet body, she finally came, hips stilling and muscles tensing as the pleasure coursed through her, making her whole body spasm. After a final shudder she grabbed a tissue and cleaned up after her, throwing it in the trashcan near the sink afterwards.

"Jesus," she finally breathed out, still feeling the slight aftershocks of her high as she pulled her pants back on.

"Santana are you okay?" She heard a familiar voice from behind the door, making her heart jump. "You've been up here for a while."

"Yeah I'm fine Tina!" She answered back, wincing when her voice wavered a bit.

Finally she unlocked the bathroom door and stepped out, frowning when she noticed her friend's concerned look.

"I'm fine," she insisted.

Tina looked at her for a couple more seconds before shrugging and making her way back downstairs. Santana sighed and followed her to the living room, where the guys were arguing near the tv about the game and the girls (plus Kurt) were still talking about Rachel's earlier dilemma. Santana rolled her eyes a bit. Rachel was always talking too much but never actually acting on her feelings. Of course that was rich coming from Santana, but other than not having the guts to confess her love to Brittany, she was generally pretty straightforward.

Walking her way to the table and grabbing a beer, she then sat on the recliner next to the couch while Tina settled back next to Brittany and Quinn. Rachel was still pacing around the coffee table.

"For God's sake just ask him out already," Santana intoned with a frustrated edge, "what's the worse that could happen?"

Quinn arched an eyebrow and smirked at Santana. "Yeah, I mean it's not like you're in love with him or anything… it would just be a casual date."

Santana glared at her until Brittany chimed in, oblivious to the two girls silent exchange. "I think San's right, Rachel, you should make the first move."

"But he's so… I mean... what if he says no?" Asked Rachel with a fearful look.

Santana looked at Brittany with silent curiosity as she could easily relate to the situation. What if after admitting her feelings, Brittany rejected her? How awkward would that make it for everyone? Could she even get over her eventually?

"If he says no he's an ass; you're a great girl Rachel, just be more sure of yourself. And if worse comes to worst," Brittany smiled, "we'll all take you out, and we can eat ice-cream all night long and watch that West Side Story thing you love so much."

Santana couldn't help but smile at that, even if her nervous thoughts were starting to get the best of her. She knew she wouldn't cope with rejection well; less even when all her friends would get involved and her shame would only grow.

Torn didn't begin to cover what she was feeling, but she was also aware the situation couldn't persist for much longer. It was obvious nothing would happen if she didn't show another side of herself to Brittany. Right now they were friends, and very good ones at that, but Santana would have to step up her game for Brittany to see her in another way. A desirable way. That was the first step, right?

Good thing it only took her eleven months to put this plan into motion.

A/N: This started off as a drabble more than anything, but eventually the ideas went wild. I like this as an open-ended one-shot, but if some of you are interested I have a pretty good idea where I could go, so don't hesitate to let me know. Cheers!