Chapter Text
Santana made her way to the front of her shop and flipped the hanging sign on the door to OPEN, signifying the start of the busiest time yet: Valentine’s week. This was her third year since she opened up Snixmade and, true to Lopez fashion, she was killing it! The number of pre-orders verged on record-breaking, but as a small business owner, Santana wasn’t complaining. At the end of the day, a girl’s gotta eat.
Valentine’s Day landed on a Friday this year, a weekday. While some orders were for pick-up, the number of deliveries nearly tripled with customers wanting to surprise their significant other at work before the weekend. With the impending holiday rush, some customers even scheduled their delivery a day early and that meant more routes for the drivers.
Well, one driver in particular.
Santana loiters by the front window with her coffee mug in hand. To some, she’s observing the daunting, grey sky, trying to decide if the meteorologist she overhead on the radio this morning is full of shit or is it actually going to snow. To others, she’s counting down the minutes until the most attractive delivery driver on the face of the Earth arrives. Santana supposes both could be true, she’s great at multitasking.
“–it’s embarrassing, really.”
“Like clockwork.”
Santana glances to her left and finds her best friend and business partner, Quinn, also staring out the window at the empty parking spot soon to be occupied by a baby blue Kombi. On Santana’s right is one of her best designers, Sugar. At some point during her observations they flanked her, both watching the scene play out with knowing smirks on their faces.
Like clockwork, Santana rolls her eyes at what they’re suggesting. “I’m saving a front row spot.”
Quinn lifts a brow silently, judgmentally.
“What? You know old geezers from the bank will take them if I’m not standing here,” Santana reasons. “God forbid they have to park in the second row like the rest of us.”
“Yet you only do this on Mondays and Fridays,” Quinn says while tapping her chin with her finger. “Hey Sug, which driver does routes on Mondays and Fridays?”
“Funny you should ask, that would be Santana’s future wifey.”
“Is that so?” Quinn responds sarcastically.
“Can we not call her that?” Santana huffs. “She has a name.”
Quinn and Sugar only shake their heads, chuckling.
“Why doesn’t she park around the back? This isn’t a loading zone.”
“Because Santana can’t be bothered lifting the roller door.”
Santana narrows her eyes at the pair talking to each other as if she’s not still standing between them. “No, Santana doesn’t open the roller door because Hank only treated the front of the shop and she does not want anyone busting their ass on the icy ramp. It’s a safety hazard.”
“Okay. That’s a good excuse,” Quinn replies.
Sugar nods. “Can’t do anything to put an ass handcrafted by goddesses in danger.”
Santana cuts Sugar with a glare but it’s void of its usual bite because–
“Hey, those are your words not mine.”
It’s true. Santana did say that.
In fact, she said it with her whole chest because holy hell witnessing the way those Levis stretched around that perfect ass nearly put Santana into cardiac arrest–she just didn’t intend for Sugar to be right behind her when she said it.
“Then again, busting her ass might give you a reason to actually see her outside of work?” Quinn suggests.
“I’ve seen her outside of work,” Santana defends although she knows crossing paths at the grocery store isn’t what Quinn’s talking about.
“Nearly running her down with your shopping cart doesn’t count,” Quinn challenges.
See? Meanwhile, Sugar’s quick to devise a plan.
“Oh my God, yes! I’ll jam the lock so she’ll have to use the ramp, throw down some ice cubes and make it really slippery and bam! Consider that ass busted. Then Santana comes in and like, nurses her back to health! Cook her soup or whatever and like seduce her so she doesn’t file a lawsuit.”
Santana and Quinn both gape at Sugar, but Quinn’s the first to address her ramblings.
“Santana can’t cook, but she does have that ridiculous nurse costume from last Halloween…”
“I can work with this.”
Again, Santana has to break up the conversation happening around her as she turns her back to the window. “One: the tag-teaming isn’t cute. Two: that costume was sexy as hell and you know it. Three: don’t you have work to do? The drivers will be here any minute.”
“God, you’re good,” Quinn notes as the distinct rumble of an engine approaches then shuts off.
Sugar looks around Santana’s shoulder and starts to smirk again. “Like seriously, down to the second!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Santana dismisses.
Quinn snickers. “So you’ve said.”
“For months,” Sugar adds.
Santana does her best to ignore them and keep calm in the face of the two, but her heart is thumping like crazy! It’s her favorite part of the day–or rather, one of her favorite parts of her day so she can’t help the giddiness. She has about thirty seconds; crap, she can’t even check her reflection to make sure she hasn’t got crumbs from breakfast on her face still or make sure her makeup hasn’t smeared or–
The sound of the Kombi door shutting shakes her from the daze.
Fifteen seconds.
“Admit it, boss. You’re down bad,” Sugar throws over her shoulder as she returns to her work bench.
“Oh my God, can you stop!” Santana grumbles but again, no bite to it.
“You have a crush,” Quinn points out for the millionth time. She’s also walking back to her work bench. “I think it’s sweet.”
Santana only shoos them away, cheeks burning.
To call it a crush seems…immature, childish, fucking disrespectful.
Santana was well into adulthood; she thought about things like her credit score, health insurance and ignoring the oil change light on her dashboard. She thought about maintaining her shop’s prestigious record of Best Boutique Bouquets for the fourth year in a row. Santana was a booked and busy businesswoman; the last time she labelled anything as a crush, the word celebrity preceded it.
So, this was not that.
The bells hanging from the top of the entry chime as the front door pushes into them. The sound normally jolts everyone in the shop to attention, ready to help a customer, but not when it comes to the most attractive delivery driver on the face of the Earth. The sound is rhythmic, angelic, the greatest song Santana’s ever heard.
“Good morning!” Brittany greets upon entering the shop. She’s her usually overly cheerful self, which would be a red flag for Santana in most cases–just not this one.
There’s a chorus of Hey Brittany from Sugar and Quinn, while Santana’s momentarily starstruck. Brittany’s wearing her dark denim overalls today, the ones that hug all her curves and makes Santana’s mouth water. How can someone be cute and sexy at the same time, it isn’t possible? Brittany seems to defy logic though.
When those blue, blue eyes land on her it’s followed by a mega-watt smile that makes Brittany’s cheeks bunch and then her arms are up, hands in her hair pulling a mess of blonde into a ponytail. Fingers tangle through the strands and for a second, Santana imagines those deliciously long fingers dancing along her panty line and –
“Ready for it?” Brittany’s asking her.
Santana blinks. “Huh?”
Behind her, Santana can hear a disappointed oh wow and real smooth. She straightens her back, quickly reminds herself that she’s a boss ass bitch and she has rendered many women speechless, too!
“For the week?” Santana clarifies before nodding coolly. “Yeah, you know it.”
“I meant the snow,” Brittany chuckles. “You think we’ll get any? They’re saying a few inches Tuesday night.”
“Oh.” Santana wills herself not to blush, though she can feel her face heating up. “Is it actually going to or are they wanting us to ransack grocery stores?”
“Either way, I’ll be sure to steer clear of you. You’re dangerous behind the wheel of a cart,” Brittany chuckles.
Santana wants to crawl into a ditch and die.
Apparently, she will never live that day down.
“Yeah. Sorry about that,” she mutters with a hand griping the back of her neck.
“I’m only teasing,” Brittany jokes. “You pull the cutest faces when you’re flustered.”
“Right,” Santana brushes off the comment with an awkward laugh. Behind her, she can hear the telltale sounds of Quinn and Sugar slapping each other and giggling–no doubt eavesdropping on their conversation. “Thanks?”
God, she has no game. When did this happen?
Brittany only shrugs before shoving her hands into the pockets of her puffer jacket. She bounces on her toes; nervously or excitedly, Santana isn’t really sure. “Well, I’m glad you’re ready for the busy week. Valentine’s is on a Friday this year, I bet you’re loving that.”
“We’re slammed,” Santana confirms. “It’s really good, lots of return customers.”
“That’s awesome!”
“Totally.”
“So…” Brittany looks around the shop stocked with buckets and buckets of flowers as they slip into a lull. “Am I the first one here?”
Right.
They’re meant to be working.
“Of course you are. Hank’s running behind,” Santana snaps to attention and leads the way to the service desk where she has Brittany’s routes ready to go. She reaches for the thickest pile out of the two and hands it to the driver. “Your furthest trip today is Paloma Heights. It’s a little far than your usual but Greg’s off and I rather you go than Hank.”
“I get it,” Brittany replies while she looks over the routes. “Hank’s the sweetest grandpa I’ve ever met but he’s not very…”
“Efficient?” Santana supplies. “I know, but he fixes up the little things around the shop and he always salts the entry when snow’s expected so none of us slip. How could I ever replace him?”
“I hear you,” Brittany chuckles. “If he would just take the backroads every once in a while, he’d avoid so much traffic. There’s so many apps he could use, too.”
“He’s old school, he has his routine.”
“Speaking of routines…” Sugar calls out but she’s immediately met with a glare from Santana. “Brittany, weren’t you saying you’re available to drive more days this week?”
Santana drops the glare and her brows furrow. When would they have talked about that? Santana practically lives in the shop so she’s in earshot of nearly every conversation.
Unless…
“Oh, yeah! Thanks for the reminder!” Brittany beams and turns her attention back to Santana. “Sugar and I went out for lunch over the weekend and she was telling me about all the deliveries scheduled later this week, so I thought I’d offer my services. Well, more of my services if you need an extra driver.”
Again, Santana’s thrown for a loop.
One: apparently Sugar and Brittany hang out after hours which is brand new news to her! Who knows how long that’s been going on. Two: there’s an opportunity to see her favorite driver more than twice a week.
“That…that would actually be really helpful,” Santana replies.
“Consider it done then!” Brittany beams.
“Are you sure? I know you have your other job.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Brittany assures her. “Anything to help my favorite florist.”
Santana swallows dryly at the title but does her best to stay professional. Many people have called her their favorite florist, most of the time it’s in hopes of getting a discount or just as a mere compliment from a return customer, so she doesn’t read into it.
“I appreciate it,” she says instead. “I’m sure Hank and Greg do too.”
“It’s my pleasure,” Brittany replies with a wink that renders Santana useless for the next seven seconds.
\\
After Brittany’s Kombi is loaded up with her day’s orders, she’s on the road again!
Santana’s day is a little less bright without the driver around but she joins Sugar and Quinn at the work bench to get started on her share of orders. Everyone’s quietly immersed in designing their arrangements, but there’s music playing from the shop’s overhead speakers so it’s not entirely silent.
It only lasts two songs.
“So, we can all agree that Brittany was clearly flirting with Santana earlier. Right?” Sugar asks.
“Oh absolutely,” Quinn answers.
“No. She was only being nice,” Santana reasons but even she doesn’t fully believe that because she–
“–called you her favorite florist!” Sugar points out. “If you were ever unsure that she likes you, that confirmed it!”
“Honestly Santana, she’s right.” Quinn replies, “Unless being useless is actually a requirement for being a lesbian, this is your chance to ask her out.”
Santana shoves a rose into her arrangement and huffs. “What would you know about being a lesbian?”
Quinn rolls her eyes at the jab.
“When would I even have time to go on a date?” Santana asks. “This whole week is practically a write-off, then pack down afterwards, then we have that huge wedding order next week. Besides, do we even know if she’s single?”
“Are you seriously asking that?” Quinn questions.
“What? You can never be too sure!”
“Brittany is definitely single,” Sugar answers easily.
“Which you’d only know because you two have secret weekend lunches,” Santana quips. “And you conveniently didn’t disclose this information to us.”
“I knew.”
Santana gapes at Quinn while Sugar brags about how easy it was to text Brittany to see if she was available to hang out, because it’s super normal to just text someone you think is cool and hang out. It was even easier to plan lunch at this new café because they both hate breakfast foods.
“You can do it too! You already have her number,” Sugar reasons. “Just text her: Hey what’s up, it’s your hottie hot boss. Let’s go out for lunch and gaze lovingly into each other’s eyes.”
“That’s good, she can’t say no because it isn’t a question,” Quinn says.
“Then you two hit it off and you can finally put it on her like that Billie Eilish song,” Sugar adds before she and Quinn starts singing I could eat that girl for lunch, yeah she dances on my tongue.
“Again, Quinn, what would you know about being a lesbian?” Santana contests.
“It’s a popular song.”
“And to others, it’s a lifestyle.”
Santana’s pretty pleased with herself for that one.
Quinn, not so much.
“But seriously, you work hard for this place, boss. It’s time for you to do something fun,” Sugar replies. “And Brittany is right there, clearly interested in you. I think you should go for it!”
“Agreed,” Quinn adds. “Please put an end to the pining, it’s been months.”
“Look, I admit Brittany’s a knockout and we’d totally make a smokin’ hot couple and I’m sure we’d have awesome sex–which I say in the most respectful way possible,” Santana pauses when she spots the two looking at her like she’s finally had a breakthrough. “But she’s our best driver and I don’t want to make things weird by hitting on her.”
Sugar drags her hands down her face and groans while Quinn pinches the bridge of her nose.
“The both of you are so dramatic,” Santana points out.
“Yeah well, you’re hopeless!” Sugar counters.
Quinn’s quick to chime in too. “I’m only saying this because I love you like a sister, Santana, but you’re being such an idiot.”
“For keeping things professional?”
“For using that as your excuse!” Quinn replies, “People sleep with their coworkers all the time.”
“I’m her boss, though.”
“So? Tons of people are into that,” Sugar suggests. “I wouldn’t put it past Brittany to be one of those people either. I totally get a vibe.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t speculate on what she’d be into…” Santana warns.
“Hey, we listen and we don’t kink shame,” Sugar recites.
“I don’t know,” Santana worries. “I’ve worked hard to build an honest reputation; I don’t want to add sleeps with staff to the list.”
“I mean, you wouldn’t sleep with all staff…just her.”
Quinn nods in agreement with Sugar while Santana lets out an exhausted sigh.
She knows she sounds like a broken record, but she really is trying to do the right thing here. Unfortunately, Sugar and Quinn aren’t deterred by her reasoning and the two spend the rest of the day testing her patience. Somehow, after months and months of the same, they actually start to wear her down.
It doesn’t help when her mind starts entertaining their possibilities either.
They tell tales of what her life might be like with Brittany filling her free time, how they’d go on cute dates to the aquarium or the movies or whatever. Brittany apparently knows all the best places to go, hidden gems, since she grew up in the area. They’d do coupley shit like hold hands, take cute pictures together, share goodnight kisses…
Hell, if Santana plays her cards right she might even have a Valentine for once!
But embarrassingly enough, what really gets Santana thinking are the talks of what could happen in quiet normalcy. She wouldn’t go home to an empty house, dark and quiet. It would be warm; it’d have that fireplace kind of glow that seems to follow Brittany. At the end of a long day, they’d tiredly come together, lounging on the couch in comfy clothes and a tangle of limbs. There would be foot rubs and back massages, chicken nuggets for dinner and glasses of wine, and sex, lots of sex…
The more Santana thinks of it, a life like that–a life involving Brittany–sounds better and better.
By closing time, Santana finds herself puttering around the front of the shop again. She keeps busy sweeping up while also glancing out the window at the empty parking spot, not-so-subtly awaiting a baby blue Kombi to take its place. This part is a little harder to judge with the extra stops added to Brittany’s route, but Santana knows she’s never later than 5:30PM.
A quick time check reveals that it’s currently 5:27PM, so she keeps sweeping.
“How many times you gonna go over that same spot, boss?” Sugar teases as she heads for the door.
Santana only playfully swats her with the broom on her way past. “Drive safe, Sug.”
“Sure thing! See you tomorrow,” Sugar salutes before shuffling off to her car.
Santana watches her go, half worrying she’s going to slip in the parking lot with the way she prances between the cars. Sugar doesn’t, much to her relief and disappointment. She could’ve used the laugh.
“It’s up to 85% chance of snow tomorrow night,” Quinn calls out to her from their shared office.
“Fuck,” Santana grimaces.
“Fuck is right,” Quinn agrees. “Thankfully, we don’t have any deliveries scheduled for the Wednesday. I’ve put a block on it to be safe, don’t want any orders slipping through.”
“Good thinking.”
If they get anything more than three inches, the city practically shuts down so Santana will have to close Snixmade.
There’s no way her little Honda is going to make it through the snow, there’s also no way Santana will make it through the snow. As for Quinn and Sugar, she genuinely cares about their safety so she wouldn’t do that to them either. Maybe they should think of that the next time they give her a hard time about her love life.
But shop closure, even for a day, would put them way behind for the week, Valentine’s week at that. The thought sends Santana into overdrive. They’ll have to get through the remaining Wednesday orders tomorrow in addition to Thursday’s which is insanity when there’s only three designers. Then they’d need to shove all arrangements in the cooler to keep the buds tight so they don’t blow by Friday.
The only problem is, will there be enough room?
Probably not.
Fuck.
In her deep thinking, Santana hadn’t heard the Kombi pull up so when the bells above the door chime, the second favorite part of the day takes her by surprise.
“I’m back!” Brittany announces as she strolls into the shop while twirling her keys around her finger. She’s let her hair down and has shed the puffer jacket she wore earlier which reveals rolled up sleeves pushed up strong forearms.
In her denim overalls and flannel button-up, Brittany looks like a farm girl. Possibly the hottest farm girl Santana’s ever laid eyes on. All that’s missing is a cowboy hat and boots. Are farm girls and cowgirls the same thing?
Now she’s imagining Brittany as a cowgirl.
Wait.
What’s that saying about saving a horse and riding a–
“Long day?” Brittany asks Santana, who’s just staring into space.
Santana clears her throat and smiles. “Sorry. Yeah, super long day. How was your drive?”
“Easy-peasy,” Brittany answers simply. “You made a lot of people very happy today.”
Santana fights a blush although she knows Brittany’s only talking about the arrangements. They typically have that effect; who doesn’t love being surprised with beautiful flowers? But like all things Brittany says to her, it hits a little different.
“Hey Britt! You hear about the snow?” Quinn interrupts as she leaves the office.
“85% chance last I heard!”
“it’s up to 3 inches now!”
“Don’t remind me,” Santana cringes, her mind slipping from her cowgirl fantasies and back into problem-solving mode.
“What’s the plan for you guys?” Brittany asks. “Gonna close on Wednesday?”
“Depends on how much we really get, but honestly, I think we’ll have to,” Santana admits. “Thankfully we don’t have any pick ups but losing a day to prep for Valentine’s Day is a huge loss.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Quinn assures Santana with a pat on her shoulder. “Don’t stress yet.”
Santana lets out a laugh. “Kinda hard not to. We’ll have to do the rest of the week’s orders in one day! Tomorrow. You, me and Sug are fast but not that fast. We need Wednesday.”
“Well, we won’t have a choice if we’re closed.”
“Maybe I can come in–”
“We’ll be closed.”
“I know that and we’ll still be closed. I’ll just finish off what we don’t get to tomorrow.”
“No way. You aren’t driving in the snow, Santana. Your car wouldn’t make it.”
Brittany glances between the two, bouncing on her toes. Again, Santana’s not sure if it’s out of nervousness or excitement. She’s considering pinning this conversation for later when Brittany raises her hand.
Santana and Quinn stop talking, bewildered.
“I could drive you?” Brittany suggests.
Quinn’s eyes practically bug out of her head. It’s a miracle Santana’s jaw doesn’t drop from the sound of the offer. While the two are momentarily stunned, Brittany starts rambling.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude but you were also talking around me so…” Brittany shoves her hands into her overall pockets and rocks back and forth from her heels to her toes.
This time, Santana knows it’s out of nervousness.
“It’s a lovely offer, Brittany, but I don’t think you’re any better off than Santana with your van,” Quinn replies because, well, Santana’s still at a loss for words. “I’d hate for you to get stuck out there, too.”
“I only use the van for deliveries,” Brittany replies. “I have another car, one better for the snow.”
“Oh.” Quinn glances to Santana, subtly gives her a nudge now that the ball’s in her court.
“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Santana manages to get out.
“Technically, you didn’t,” Brittany says. “I offered.”
“Well, she got you there…”
Quinn’s right.
Brittany’s right.
Santana’s a fucking mess.
“Well…I…you…she’s…I’m…”
“How about you think on it?” Brittany interrupts Santana’s flailing with a damn giggle. “You can text me tomorrow, let me know what you decide but the offer’s there.”
Quinn glances at Santana again, practically rattling from anticipation. Santana swallows thickly, hypnotized by Brittany’s soft smile, drowning in her blue, blue eyes.
“That…sounds like a capital idea,” Santana finally says.
Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit!
“Awesome.” Brittany grins widely at her reply. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow then.”
“Okay.” Santana can’t help but smile back, feeling like she’s agreeing to so much more.
“Okay!” Brittany pulls her hands from her pockets and twirls her keys. She heads for the door with a little more pep to her step and calls out over her shoulder, “You guys have a good night!”
“Drive safe, Brittany!” Quinn says.
Santana just watches that glorious ass leave, still reeling from the implications of what she’s agreed to. It takes all by three seconds after Brittany’s exited the shop before Quinn’s squealing.
“I can’t believe this! I can’t believe Sugar missed this! I have to call her immediately!”
\\
The following day, the three florists are knee deep in orders and flower stem trimmings for the majority of the day. They’ve never worked as fast as they have all morning and well into the afternoon, but the hard work pays off when they make a sizeable dent in their stack of orders.
A dent.
Though they’ve prioritized the orders for early deliveries, there’s still a quarter of the stack to go. With only an hour left of their workday, a workday they’ve already extended, Santana realizes they’ve run out of time.
It’s also starting to snow an hour earlier than expected, and it’s coming down fast.
Fucking weather forecasts.
With another glance at the front windows, a glimpse of powdery white coating everything, Santana sets down her cutters and sighs.
“I’m calling it,” she says.
“Good idea,” Quinn agrees. She looks over at the windows too. “Better clean up fast and get out of here before it gets any worse.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice!” Sugar says and jets off to get started.
Between the three of them, they clean up shop quickly. It isn’t the most thorough job they’ve done but given the circumstances Santana isn’t stressed. She wants to get out of there just as quickly, but the remaining stack of orders taunt her any time she looks their way.
Thursdays orders are done so there’s that, but Friday? She’d hope to have all the pre-orders done to make room for the walk-in’s, because there’s always last-minute shoppers on the day. Between that and having someone on register and another wrapping bouquets, how can she make the time to finish off the orders?
She can’t.
Unless…
“You gonna text her?” Quinn asks. She doesn’t have to clarify for Santana to understand. Since Quinn filled Sugar in on what she missed, it’s been all they’ve talked about.
Still, Santana hesitates because…well…she’s nervous, okay? Brittany’s blonde and awesome and so smart, of course she’s fucking nervous! Who in the right mind wouldn’t be?
Which is what she tries to explain to Quinn and Sugar.
…it doesn’t go well.
“Give me your phone, I’ll do it!” Sugar says.
Santana’s quick to stuff her phone between her tits. “Just give me a second!”
“You’ve had several seconds already,” Quinn tells her. “It’s time. Do it or Sugar will.”
Sugar makes grabby hands and starts chanting Gimmie! Gimmie! Gimmie! as if she’s a member of the Swedish Pop sensation ABBA.
“Fucking fine!” Santana huffs and takes out her phone again, scrolling her contacts. Sugar and Quinn rush to crowd her. “No way, back up! I can’t do this with you two gossip girls hovering.”
“Oh my God, she has Brittany’s number saved as Hottest Delivery Driver Ever!” Sugar teases.
“Fuck off!” Santana swats at her, hiding her phone screen because neither of them can be trusted to look. She moves to the corner shelving and peeks at her phone to quickly type out a text:
Hey, it’s Santana! I think I might take you up on that ride if you’re still offering?
Santana zeroes in on the word ride and wonders if she could’ve used a less provocative word or maybe it’s her who should steer clear of the gutter. What word could she have used anyway? All thoughts stop when three little bubbles pop up on the screen and a new text immediately follows.
Totally! Just tell me when and where?
Suddenly, it dawns on her.
Brittany will be coming to her house in the wee hours of the morning to take her to work. Then when she’s done, Brittany will pick her up and take her home.
To her house.
Where she lives alone.
Because she’s miserably single.
Holy shit.
“Quinn, she’s doing it again!” Sugar calls out.
By it, she means gay panicking because apparently; despite having lived out of the closet for year and years, no out and proud lesbian is safe from its wrath.
“Pull yourself together, Lopez!” Quinn demands.
“Seriously!”
“It’s just a seven-minute ride to work.”
“A lot can happen in seven minutes!”
“Duh,” Sugar chirps. “Why do you think it’s called seven minutes in heaven?”
“Oh dear God, I didn’t’ think of that,” Santana worries.
“Sugar!” Quinn chastises before turning back to Santana. “Look, it’s fine…you’re fine…”
“Brittany’s fine,” Santana notes dreamily. “Brittany’s fine as hell.”
“So we’ve established,” Quinn agrees.
“Don’t overthink it,” Sugar tells her. “I mean, this is the perfect opportunity to thank her for such a selfless favor by–I don’t know–asking her out on a date…”
“Sugar!” Santana huffs.
“She’s right.”
“Quinn!” Santana huffs again.
“Hey, it’s just a suggestion,” Quinn reasons.
“Yeah. You do you, boo,” Sugar adds. “You could even put on the sexy nurse costume if you need the extra confidence.”
“I don’t know about all that,” Quinn replies. “But come on, you’re Santana freaking Lopez. You’re the hottest bitch straight out of Lima Heights and–”
“Lima Heights Adjacent,” Santana clarifies. “I’ve told you so many times, there’s a difference.”
“There’s not.”
“There is and you’d know that if you were from the wrong side of the tracks, but you’re not.”
“Ask her out,” Quin says with finality.
Santana lets her shoulders fall, the thought rolls around in her head and bumps into her daydreams of Brittany. They have a point; it is the perfect opportunity to ask Brittany out and she is doing such a huge favor for her. Treating her to a meal is the least she could do.
“She’s thinking about it,” Sugar notes excitedly.
Santana rolls her eyes but can’t fight off the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.