A/N Hey. I'm still working on my Sleepovers series, but this idea came into my head so I banged it out. This could be set pretty much any time, but I guess I see it as taking place right around when Brittany and Santana started Glee club.
I had a ton of fun writing it, hope its just as fun for y'all.
Her text comes through almost immediately. "Stop creepin u dumbass. Come up."
Santana. Always a charmer.
I slip around to the back of the house. I know there's a key hidden in this special key-hiding rock that Santana's mom leaves there in case the housekeeper locks herself out. I know the alarm code is 11-18-55, Santana's dad's birthday. And most importantly, I know that Santana's dad is safely off at some medical conference, sticking his fingers in brains, or whatever. Point being, he's not here in Lima to catch me sneaking into his daughter's room at midnight with an eighth of prime bud in my pocket. Santana's mom's not home either, but that hardly matters. That chick takes pills.
Secret key, secret code, in less than a minute I'm in the kitchen, contemplating stopping to make myself a plate. My house is all Kraft mac and cheese and freezer burned chicken nuggets. But here, they've got a refrigerator full of ridiculous restaurant type shit – pizzas with shrimp on 'em and stuff like that.
But I know she'll be pissed if I take too long. So I just grab a fancy looking box off the counter, I'm sure there's something delicious in it.
I can find my way up to her room without turning any lights on. We do this often enough.
We've got a good thing going. In bio we learned that when animal dudes or bacterias or whatever help each other out, it's called mutually beneficial. I normally never remember science stuff, but I remember that one, cause that's how Santana and I work – she helps me get what I need, I help her get what she needs.
Not to be gross or anything, but one of the main things she helps me out with is my raging boners. I'm a dude. I've got needs. She's a super hot chick, it's really awesome to have her around and ready to roll (usually, most of the time) when I text her. Cause. Well. It's not like I have trouble getting other ladies. Hello, I'm PUCK. But…sometimes I have trouble…I dunno…
I just like girls you know? And fucking with some of them just fucks with me right back. They get in my head, I can't stop thinking about how they smell, what their voices sound like… So when I was younger, and a real fuckin' idiot, a couple of times, I got to this point where I was calling too much, and driving by girls houses a lot and…well, I'm not even gonna say what happened when the chicks, or in one case, this chick's dad, told me to stop, but maybe it involved tears on my part. Maybe like, one tear.
But that's the whole point right? Can't have that shit in my head, fucking with the image. So Santana's the perfect solution. Cause there's no danger of getting attached to Santana.
The thing about her is, she's a smokin' hottie, like I said. And she's pretty down to do fun shit - get buzzed, sneak around, crash parties, whatever. But even though she's fun and hot, she's not that…likable. She's kind of a bitch to me. Which means we have sex, we have fun, I'd even say we're kinda friends, but its not like she'd ever let me fall in love with her.
I reach her bedroom, and open the door without knocking.
She and Brittany are lying on the bed, flipping through the yearbook, talking shit about everyone. They're both in white tank tops and red Cheerios shorts. They're lying on their stomachs, knees bent, bare feet in the air. There's not a millimeter of space between them, and they're kinda playing footsie with each other.
And right there, that's the reason Santana needs me.
It's funny, cause she's a smart chick, AP classes, honor roll, all that jazz. But she really thinks she's hiding it. That no one sees how they're always touching, always moving towards each other, away from everyone else.
Then again, our school is full of dumbasses who never notice shit, not even hot cheerleaders in love. But I can see it. I think Quinn can see it too. But maybe we just notice because we're around them a lot and it feels so lonely.
Anyway, Santana really really wants to keep it a secret from school, and I think from her parents too. She never says it this way, but I know, I'm the man candy, the date for school dances, someone to keep up her dad worried about the wrong things while she's probably screwing Brittany silly every time they have a sleepover. Seriously, when you think about it, Santana's really got a sweet deal. She's got a tight alibi, a super hot guy AND a super hot girl. I'd say she had it all figured out if it weren't also totally obvious that she is a severely crazy chick, a control freak and a paranoid closet case.
"'Sup ladies?" I saunter into the room. "I come bearing herbal refereshment…" I pat my shirt pocket where a baggie full of weed is nestled. "…and uh…regular refreshment, I guess."
I hold up the box I grabbed in the kitchen, which I now see is a box of chocolate covered graham crackers. Score.
"You got those downstairs." Santana slides off the bed and takes the box from me.
"Yeah, well, I still brought 'em right?"
She gives me a half smile, and consents to a peck on the cheek.
Brittany waves, but doesn't get up. She's working hard, drawing moustaches on everyone in Spanish club.
Santana walks over to the couch. Yeah, that's how freakin' huge her room is. She's got a big fluffy bed and a desk and all that regular crap, plus a legit couch in there, right across from her giant flat screen tv.
She sprawls out all over the couch, not leaving room for anyone else. So I sink down on this velvety sort of fancy beanbag chair she has. But its not a beanbag really, its memory foam, so it conforms to my ass and feels just awesome. I wish I had a sweet chair like this at home, I could play video games for a hundred hours and never move.
I chill for a second. It was cold outside, I don't have jacket. So it's nice to just be in here, all bright and cozy.
"What'd you do tonight?"
I shrug. The answer is, nothing really. Finn and I played Mario Kart for a while, drank a couple beers. Well, he had one and I had three. Then he had to go home, help his mom with something. So I just kept doing the same thing, by myself, until Santana texted me – "Britts and I wanna smoke, come over."
But she doesn't need to know my whole life story.
"Nuthin' that's any of your business."
She rolls her eyes.
"Yeah, well, what were you two doing? I interrupt some hot sleepover action?" She never admits to anything, but it's awesome to see her squirm.
The tips of her ears turn red. Heh.
She glares at me and I glare back at her and we do it for so long it gets to be kinda funny, so I crack a smile and she sorta smirks and everything's chill again.
"So you gonna hook us up or what Puckerman?"
"I don't know Lopez, what's in it for me?"
She shoots a look over at Brittany, but Brittany's still busy with her Sharpie and the yearbook. So she gets up off the couch and walks over to me. She kneels down in front of me, kinda pushing my knees apart so she can get between them. She's hardly dressed, I mean, just those tiny shorts, that white tanktop, clearly no bra on. She puts her hands on my thighs and I have to say, I'm getting pretty glad I came over.
She leans in closer, like she's gonna kiss me, but at the last minute, she moves and instead her mouth is by my ear, whispering.
"Nuh uh." She bites my ear, not a little girly nibble, a real, rough bite. I'm not gonna lie, I fuckin' love it. "You know the rules."
I do know the rules. Not hooking up around Brittany is like, rule number 1, 2, and 3. There's only one rule that's more important.
She's messing with me though, so I mess with her right back. "I come all the way over here in the middle of the night, I think you'd at least say thank you. But if you don't, maybe Brittany wants to thank me?" I look over at Brittany on the bed, she's watching us now. I give her a cocky smile.
"How about it Britt? Wanna come over here and thank the fuck out of me? Or maybe I can come over there and get thanked by you right on Santana's bed."
Santana shoves me back hard, I almost hit my head on the windowsill behind me. I wonder if I've gone too far, cause that's the ultimate rule right there, no me and Brittany, not ever.
But she just says "Fuck you", and flounces back over to her couch. A minute later I realize why she's not more pissed; while I was distracted, she lifted the bag of weed from my pocket and now she's got all the drugs.
"Aww, damn." I grab a packet of rolling papers from my back pocket and toss them over to her. She rolls better joints than I do anyway.
"Brittany, bring me the yearbook."
Brittany, walking toward us in those shortie shorts and see-through tanktop is definitely not the worst thing I've seen all night.
I look over to see if I can catch Santana looking too. She totally is, way worse than me. She's practically burning through Brittany's clothes with that stare.
I lean over and brush the corner of her mouth with my thumb.
"Hey, gotta little drool there…"
"Shut up," she mumbles, and kicks a foot in my direction. But she misses, cause she's still got her eyes on Brittany.
She slides over to make a spot for Brittany on the couch. Brittany slips the yearbook on to Santana's lap and sits, her back against the arm of the couch, her feet up, toes resting on Santana's thigh.
I like it when it's just me and them like this. I like to watch.
I mean…It's not…like, yeah, their hookups at parties are legendary and FUCK yes I like to watch that. But I mean…they're cool to watch even when they just sit there. It's not like at parties at all.
I'd give a freakin' eyeball to see what they're like when they're really alone.
So, I just lean back in my fancy beanbag and watch them be all calm and pretty together. Santana concentrates on breaking up a nug on the cover of the yearbook. Brittany watches her too, her fingers tracing over a scrape on her own knee.
"Puck, spark it."
She tosses me the joint and damn, it's beautiful. That girl never does anything half-ass.
I light it, and suck down a big hit. She could have just demanded my lighter if she wanted. Letting me get the first hit is her way of saying thanks and sorry and we're cool. Like I said, she's a down girl sometimes.
I hand it back to her and she hits it twice and passes it on to Brit. And Brittany, as usual, sucks down like half the fucking j in one massive hit. You'd never think it, she looks all innocent and she hardly drinks, but that chick smokes weed like it's her job.
We pass it around again, and again and in like, 20 minutes we're pretty fuckin' high.
I'm just sitting there, zoned the fuck out.
Brittany and Santana are cracking up on the couch. I have no idea what they're talking about, and honestly, I don't know if they do either.
"Do you think meat gum sounds good or gross?"
"Gum that tastes like meat?"
"Yeah, like, steak flavor or something."
"Ohh. Or porkchops!"
"What? No way!" Santana almost shrieks. "You guys are gross. Meat gum would be like….having…candy tacos."
I don't see what's so funny, but she cracks herself up with that one.
That's why Santana only smokes with me and Britts. Cause she knows its gonna kill her ability to be at all cool.
I'm staring at the giant flatscreen now. "Can we watch a movie or something?"
I look back at them, over on the couch and uh…YEAH.
Santana's on her knees, straddling Brittany's lap. She's got her hands on Brittany's arms, just kinda, stroking her biceps. She's got her eyes locked on Britt's mouth. Brittany's eyes are half closed, and her head's kinda thrown back and she's biting her bottom lip and breathing like hard enough to make her chest heave.
Woah. Maybe I did interrupt something when I got here.
I'm not moving, cause…maybe they'll forget about me and I can just watch this keep going.
I've seen a lot of girl-on-girl porn. Like, dude, A LOT. But that stuff is nothing like these two. Maybe it's cause I know they're real and they go to my school and I actually have sex with one of them. Or maybe its because that giggly shit they do adds a really cute element. But whatever it is, they just touch each other different. Even little stuff, what they're doing right now, its suuuuupppppper hot. And…right about now I am starting to get suuuuuuupppper hard.
Brittany opens her eyes and for a second it seems like they're gonna kiss like crazy, rip each other's clothes off, totally gonna go out at it so hard right there on the couch and I'm gonna get my wish and really see, really get to see them get do it.
But then she burps, right in Santana's face, and Santana wrinkles her nose and is like, "Gross, Brit." And so Brittany does it again, closer, and Santana tries to shove away, giggling. But Brittany pins her to the couch, and does it again, burps like, right up on her nose.
Santana kicks and shrieks and tickles Brittany, trying to get her to let go.
But Brittany's really strong and she's got Santana trapped.
"Puck. Help me!"
"Oh, now you wanna be my friend."
Brittany's doing that gross thing where you hock up some snot and basically drip it as far out of your mouth with spit as you can, threatening to drop it on the person you've got pinned.
Brittany is such a nasty dude.
Now Santana's not struggling, cause she doesn't want to dislodge Brittany's snot string and have it drop on her.
But she's still squealing. "Ugggggh! EW! PUCK! HELP!"
I'm grinning at them like a fuckin maniac. I'm just really enjoying this, I'm still kinda hard, but not so far gone it's uncomfortable. I'm pretty baked, and these two hot girls are just crackin' me up.
I step over and grab Brittany around the waist, and lift her off Santana. But she's tall and strong and she doesn't wanna make it easy for me. She squirms in my grasp, and I know she can feel me through my jeans.
"What?" Santana sits up and runs a hand through her hair, it's all messed up.
I put Brittany down and take a step back. "Nothin'"
Brittany snickers and goes back to the couch, curling up next to Santana, wrapping an arm around her waist. She leans over and whispers, way loud. "He's got a boner."
"Ugh." Santana snorts in disgust and pulls Brittany in closer to her. "Jeez Puck. You like watching girls get spit on? You're gross."
I sit down, cause now everyone's looking at my fucking crotch. "NO. It wasn't that. It was…"
"You don't get to tell me the cause of your erection Puckerman. Go get me those cookies."
I walk over to the other side of the room, where she left 'em. I try to think about something sad or weird, to lose the wood. I think about that time this kid's mom died and they came and told him right in the middle of Homeroom in 8th grade. But then I remember that Brittany and Santana were in that Homeroom with me, and I always saw them touching each other's knees under the desks. Ok. So…that's not helping. I need something completely boring.
Oh, nice. I take a deep breath and read the ingredients on the box of chocolate covered graham crackers.
I mumble under my breath. "Graham Crackers. Enriched Flour. Wheat Flour. Niacin. Reduced Iron. Thia…mine Mo…non…i…trate. Vitamin B1…" By the time I'm sounding out Soy Lecithin, the situation's a little more under control.
"What are you doing over there? Are you praying to that box of graham crackers?"
I ignore her, open the box and choose a milk chocolate one, shove it in my mouth, whole. I grab three more before I walk over and hand the box to Santana.
The high has mellowed. I stretch out on the floor, kick my shoes off. Brittany tosses me a pillow and I tuck it behind my head, propped up against couch.
"We can watch a movie." Santana decides.
"Can I pick?"
"No, Brittany picks."
Yeah, I knew that.
It's alright. She's gonna pick a cartoon movie and it's probably gonna have singing, but that's cool with me as long as its not Lady and the Tramp. That one's got too many sad parts. Disney Princesses are kinda hot though. I could go for some Ariel action.
I hop up and find the dvd. Its right on top of the pile, cause Brittany picks it like, almost every time.
I put it in, and Santana's got the remote, she presses play. I chomp my other graham crackers, and when I'm done and ask for more, Santana tosses me the whole rest of the box.
"Should I roll another j?"
"Eh. I'm chill. It's up to you."
"I don't care."
So Santana puts the yearbook and the weed in a drawer and sits down on the couch. Brittany lays down, her head in Santana's lap. I'm back in my spot on the floor, so when I'm watching the movie I can't see them behind me, but I know Santana's running her fingers through Brittany's hair.
I'm kinda tired.
The next thing I know, I'm waking up with drool all over my face and the DVD is showing the home screen and it's almost light outside. Someone threw a blanket over me at some point. I glance over at Santana's alarm clock. It's almost 5.
I sit up, crack my neck, get to my feet. My right arm is all numb from lying on it, so I shake it out a little.
Brittany and Santana are still on the couch. We must have all passed out around the same time.
Or…maybe not, cause now I see, there's a brand new hickey on Brittany's neck and some one had to put it there. So I guess I passed out first.
I sit down to pull my sneakers on. I'm not making too much noise but Santana wakes up anyway.
"What time is it?"
She shifts out from under Brittany and slides down to the floor. She sits Indian style and stretches for a second. I can see some scratches on her shoulders that weren't there last night. What the hell did I miss?
She gets up and gets the baggie of weed out of the drawer, takes out a couple of nugs, and puts them in an empty cinnamon altoid box she has in there, but gives me back the baggie with the rest. She also grabs a pair of jeans off the back of a chair and digs a 20 out of the pocket. She gives me that too.
I hesitate. "You don't have to…"
She shrugs. "There's some cinnamon rolls under that dome thing on the counter. If you want one on your way out."
I tuck the 20 into my wallet.
I stand there for a second and it's kinda awkward. She's half asleep, her hair looks crazy, and I really wanna hug her.
But I don't. Instead I put my hand out and sort of push her on the shoulder. It was the right choice, 'cause she smiles, and gives me a nice kiss on the cheek. She usually smells like cinnamon, but now its something else. Brittany, I guess.
She yawns, turns away, crawls under the covers of her big fluffy bed.
As I shut the door I hear her calling, "Brittany, come to bed."
I do grab a cinnamon roll on my way out, they're huge and sticky and freakin' delicious. I walk out and it's sunrise, and I've got sugar all over my hands.