Title: Breadstix
Pairing: Santana/Brittany
Spoilers: Based on a preview clip for 'Never Been Kissed'.
Summary: Acting interested when listening to Puck's stories was hard, acting interested when she felt Brittany's foot tracing her thigh was even harder. Brittana. Slight spoiler for Never Been Kissed.

A/N: Crappy title and crappy writing. I do like the idea of them bailing on the date, though, and so this happened...
Thanks for reading :)

Twenty minutes. Twenty minutes she had been sat here listening to him spout his shit. Juvie, as far as she could understand, was full of Puck's. Every story he told, every person that he described and called an 'ass-wipe' sounded just like him. Santana dreaded the thought of such a place; one Puck was by far enough. She had only come out with him so they could get to the good stuff; and right now, if she was honest, the good stuff didn't even seem worth this torture. He would have to be on his game big time, she thought, nodding to herself slightly.

"...and the fight just like, broke out. Right there," he exclaimed as she zoned back in to the conversation. She rolled her eyes, did anything else actually happen in that place? "It took nearly ten of us to break it up. I grabbed the big guy, had to hold him back until one of the guys came and took him away," he said smugly, leaning back in his chair with that obnoxious pout on his face.

Santana offered a small smile, trying to hide the unimpressed, and really rather pissed off, look on her own face. She turned her attention to the bread stick that lay on her plate as she heard his voice, once again, start up on some boring, repetitive story. Glancing opposite herself, she noticed that Artie was thoroughly engrossed in every word that he was saying, nodding enthusiastically. She felt sorry for him, really, for thinking that Puck would even offer him the time of day if he didn't really need to. She didn't feel bad enough to do anything about it, of course, so she simple sighed and picked off a part of her food, throwing it into her mouth.

She felt something brush across her leg. She didn't bother to investigate, or even think anything of it, and simply went back to her food. There were four of them at this table, anyone could have accidentally bumped against her leg. It happened all the time. Well, she thought, she should probably take Artie out of the equation. Brittany had confirmed that he really didn't have the robot legs that the blonde was sure he did, much to the displeasure of the taller girl.

It happened again, and this time her eyebrows furrowed. This time it felt heavier, more intended. She glanced to her left with her head still looking down slightly, looking in Puck's direction. He was sat up now, his arms moving frantically as he told his new story. It couldn't have been him, unless his legs were flailing to add even more emphasis. It wouldn't surprise her, she decided, but it wasn't entirely plausible.

That left only one person.

A smirk emerged on her face as she slowly lifted her gaze, finding Brittany returning the gesture. She felt the foot on her leg again, this time realising that the blonde had ridded herself of her shoes, and that her touch was slowly making it's way upwards. She pulled away as she reached Santana's thigh, a teasing smile on her lips as they turned at the corners mischievously. Santana removed her hands from the bread stick that lay on her plate, gripping the edges of her seat as she felt Brittany's foot reconnecting with her now burning skin, much higher this time. She felt her at the edge of her skirt, travelling the length of her thigh before moving to her knee, nudging her legs open a little. Santana had never been so glad for Artie being in that wheelchair, for him being out of the way and providing Brittany with all the room she needed. She allowed her legs to be gently pried apart, trying hard to focus on the table in front of her, trying hard to prevent her cheeks from flushing red.

She felt her toes as they found the inside of her thigh, disappearing behind the material of her short cheerios skirt. She dared a glance across the table, into the blue eyes of Brittany who was now looking much more serious, though her lips still had a slight curve as she watched Santana's reaction to every small move she made. Santana forced her eyes closed as she felt her nearing where she needed her so badly to be. She was throbbing, literally, and she could feel her own dampness increasing rapidly.

She couldn't help the loud gasp that escaped her lips when she finally felt her there, when she came into contact with her underwear and pressed heavily. Puck stopped his story, Artie looked at her, confused, and Brittany's wondering foot quickly retreated.

"Um..." she tried, her breathing raspy and throat dry. She licked her lips, trying to somehow think of something to say. Anything. "I'm just..." she trailed off again, sitting up a little and straightening her skirt. "I'm feeling a little ill," she settled on. "I'm going to the bathroom. Brittany," she almost moaned, emphasising her name and trying to get the girl on the same train of thought. "Could you come with me?"

Brittany smirked, nodding and giggling at the double meaning, before she got to her feet and squeezed herself from their small table.

They were in the bathroom almost instantly, Santana pretty much sprinting the whole way there. She took Brittany's hand as the door closed behind them, pulling her hungrily to a stall and ignoring the shocked look on the face of the woman at the mirror, pausing her make-up application to observe the girls with a raised eyebrow. Santana didn't even notice anyone was there at all. She pulled the blonde into the stall, throwing her against the door almost instantly and grabbing her hand. She pulled it to the hem of her skirt, allowing the blonde time to readjust, before she crashed their lips together.

Brittany allowed her hands to roam, only having to move slightly before she came into contact with Santana's underwear and quickly pushed it aside. The smaller girl's breath hitched at the contact, and Brittany leaned off of the door, turning them so that she was leaning against her, giving herself more room and keeping Santana stable. "We can't do this here," she whispered into Santana's ear as the girl's head flew back, leaning heavily against the door behind her.

"Bullshit," she offered through clenched teeth, looking back into Brittany's eyes with a smirk. The blonde stifled a laugh, tracing her fingertips across the damp flesh one more time before retreating her hand. Santana's face instantly fell, her leg straightening out. "You're kidding me, right?" she hissed sternly.

Brittany shook her head, giggling, before unlocking the door. The smaller girl shifted out of the way, folding her arms tightly across her chest once she saw Brittany beginning to exit the small confines of their stall. She had started this with all of that teasing, she remembered, and now she was going to leave her handing like this? She raised an unimpressed brow, standing still and refusing to move.

"Come on," Brittany laughed, grabbing her forearm and urging her out.

Santana rolled her eyes as she allowed herself to be pulled from the stall, dragging her feet with every step and acting as unimpressed as she possibly could. She still had an overwhelming urge to force Brittany into a quiet area of the restaurant and relieve herself of the horribly taunting throbbing between her legs, however, and it was only making her mood worse. "Britt, what are you doing?" she complained as the girl paused with the door to the bathroom opened only slightly, peering outside. She was horribly cliché in her actions, like something from some bad spy movie.

"Shh," she warned her, turning only momentarily before her attention was back on people on the other side of the door. It took only a moment before she opened it completely, again taking Santana's arm and dragging her along behind.

Santana would have asked what the hell was going on, why Brittany had suddenly gone all James Bond, but then she saw it. She saw Brittany glance over at their table before walking completely the opposite way, towards the exit, flashing Santana a quick grin as they approached it. "We're bailing, right?" the latina smiled back.

"Definitely."

A/N: Not to bombard with the authors notes, and this one is way off-topic, but Naya Rivera is amazing and shitty interviewer is shitty.

That is all.