Title: Time's Ticking

Summary: How much time do you have left until love is lost and fails to exist, and you're left counting the minutes alone forever?

Pairing: Brittany/Santana

Rating: T/M

Words: 3k

I: Prologue

"Hey, I've been waiting for an hour already, where the hell are you?"

You roll your eyes and fix the strap of your bag as it slowly slides down your arm. You can't really be bothered talking to her right now in the middle of a New York crowd, and you'd really hang up if she didn't make this rule about the never hang up and always answer the phone whenever either of you calls. You huff and glance up, glad to see the sidewalk light turn red. At least you don't have to worry about someone bumping into you.

"Santana, I told you I'd be late today because I had an important meeting with my boss."

Almost immediately, you can see her rolling her eyes and pouting that pout with her red plump lips.

"Yeah well, you're not keeping your end of the deal."

"Seriously? I thought that part of the deal also consists that we can be excused if there is an important matter to attend to, and this, sweetie is a very big thing for me." You groan when the light turns green and you start to walk fast again, catching up to the timer ticking on the post.

"Whatever, what was it for anyway?"

You raise an eyebrow up, wondering if she's actually interested about something other than your lips, your moans, your body and your—well you know, your downstairs. "What was what?" you ask, pushing her buttons.

There's shuffling on the other side before you hear her reply. "Nothing, just hurry up." She mutters on the phone, making you sigh in disappointment. For once you thought she actually cares about something personal regarding you.

"Sorry princess but you have to wait." You say, concentrating on your stride because you're afraid you might trip. This is what Santana's husky and sexy voice does to you. "I'm just in 50 street—"

"What?!" She screams, causing you to jolt in place and stop for a moment, bringing the phone away from your ear as you frown.

"What's what?" You ask in a monotone voice, continuing your walk.

"That's like 30 minutes away, are you kidding me?" she whines, and you unconsciously smile at the thought of her kicking her feet away like a child. "What am I going to do for 30 long minutes? That's like 1800 seconds too much for me Britt." That's another thing you can't help but love about this girl. She's such a nerd sometimes. And even though she hates showing it, she expresses it like 24/7.

"I can do the math." You joke, not annoyed by the woman anymore because of her cuteness. "Then count the seconds, and before you know it, I'm there."

You wanted to say something cheesy, but you know she'll only ignore you and change the subject.

"Okay, what if I count too fast and you're still not here?"

You smirk.

No one ever said you couldn't tease her.

"Start before me then." You husk, chuckling when you hear her gasp. She can be so obvious at times. "Bye Santana." You end before she can say her reply, pocketing your phone as you smile up at the street sign.

20th street.

Also, no one ever said you can give a small lie just to see her shocked face when you come in her apartment 30 minutes earlier than schedule. You giggle and slide Santana's spare card that she gave you on your 20th day together (okay so maybe you're counting all the nights you spend with her—who cares, doesn't mean anything) and smile when it beeps open. You quietly walk up the stairs of her condo and giggle lightly when you spot the familiar golden number 69 stuck on her front door. Up until now you ask whether or not she chose room 69 because of the the double meaning it possesses but she always refuses with a blush. You know better than that though.

You clear your throat, fix any hair sticking out of your head and dust off the dirt away from your sweatpants. You know it's kind of unattractive popping into someone's home with a sweat-dry tank top on and some sweats but really, you don't care right now because all you can think about is Santana writhing beneath you—

Stop. Don't get ahead of yourself. Open the door and do what you've planned in your head since leaving the dance studio.

Getting rid of all the nasty thoughts inside your brain, you plant a sexy smirk on your lips and insert the key card in, licking your lips when the door opens ajar. Slowly sneaking in, you drop your belongings on the table near the entrance and take of your sneakers, tip toeing your way towards her bedroom. You're not surprised when you see her door half way open, she never liked closing them in fear of an intruder lurking inside her house.

But what surprises you the most is when you take a peak and see her beautiful tan legs wide open, spread out like an eagle and her lithe fingers rubbing up and down her glistening core—and fuck, let's not forget about her hard nipples poking out of her loose bra. She always loves to do that, leave her boobs hanging out of her bra because there was this one time you told her how much it turned you on and she never stopped doing it. You bite your lip and sigh. You know you're starting to have feelings for this woman but you can't, you won't and you know you will never be together.

So instead of drowning yourself in petty thoughts, you kick the door open, holding your laugh when you hear her squeak and quickly get rid of your tank top, tossing it outside her room as you saunter your way towards her. "So you actually listen to me." You joke, stating about the fact she actually started without you.

She blushes, bringing her blanket over her body whilst nibbling on her bottom lip. "I thought you said you'd be here in 30 minutes?" she asks back instead, blushing harder when you tug the blanket away from her hot figure.

You shrug your shoulders. "I walk like a cheetah." You kid around again, smirking when something passes your mind. You immediately crouch down on her bed, crawling your way up until she's back against her bed frame. You growl lowly, seductively, and she gulps. "I run fast, walk fast, and, can make you come fast—"

"Fuck—" Santana curses, pouncing on you before you can do so, immediately crashing your lips together as you battle for dominance. You smile through white teeth as she pushes you down on her bed and tugs on your pants. You giggle and she grunts. "It's not funny how I'm naked and you're not." She whines and still, you again wonder who's the older one really.

"Patience Santan—"

"Fuck patience." She huffs, successfully bringing those sweats off your long legs. "Finally, now this is more I like it." She husks, eyeing your underwear-clad body as she licks her lips hungrily. "You know, if you're a cheetah—I'm like a lion."

You quirk your eyebrows up intensely. "And why a lion, Ms. Lopez?" you purr, teasing her hard nipples as you flick the hard nubs with the tip of your fingers, lightly scratching it with your sharp nails. And you nearly faint when you see Santana buckle and moan at the sensation.

"Because they're the most sexual felines in the world." She replies with a cocky grin and really, you don't want to ruin her mood by saying that was the cutest thing ever because she'll pout again and shuffle away so you just waggle your eyebrows and dip your finger inside her folds slowly, surprising the woman on top of you.

Leaning up, you blow a breathe beside her ear and say, "Then show me what you got tiger." Okay, so Santana may have said she was a lion but come on, it's way sexier to call someone a tiger.

Rawr.

Santana smirks and crashes her lips against yours, causing you to moan loudly as she starts to grind on your abs.

Yup, she is definitely a rough pussy.

"Wow, for the first time in months, you're back earlier than 2am."

You blink your eyes a couple of times before turning to the figure sitting on the couch of your living room apartment. Your roommate gives you a teasing smirk and you blush at her words. So what if you haven't been a roommate these past days? It's not your fault Santana makes you not walk after a night of wonder.

"Why are you awake Madison?" You ask, groaning when you feel how much your thighs ache. It must have been from all the squeezing you did on Santana's head when she went down on you. Fuck, you can still feel her tongu—

"Stop fantasizing and look at me Britt." She chides, waving her hand in front of your face as you flop down on the couch beside her and lean most of your weight against her body. She grunts, and tries to push you away. "I'm not strong, move the other way." She complains and you follow, knowing you might fall to the ground if you keep leaning on to her. "So what did Ms. Cinnamon do to make you go home instead of staying the night?"

That's right, you've given Santana a codename so no one would know about your secret relationship. "She has something urgent to do in the morning so we had to cut our activities short." You explained, knowing if you don't, she's going to pester you about it anyways.

"Ew, spare me the other details." She jokes, laughing lightly with her sparkling hazel grey orbs. "Oh and to answer your question, I'm awake because Mason and I, just came back from hanging out in one of his friend's place." She jumps on her seat like a happy kid, smile intact.

You giggle and tilt your head to the side, eyeing her with playfulness. "Wow, why so happy?" you ask, getting suspicious with her reaction.

She shrugs her shoulders and gives you a teasing smile. You gasp and slap her shoulder. "Don't tell me you lost your virginity!?"

Madison's jaw drops and she shakes her head quickly, her pale cheeks turning red. "What?!—Oh god no, Britt—Gross!" she exclaims, scrunching her face up. "I had my first drink Brittany, my first drink!" she whines and you can't help but giggle at her flustered face.

"Well well," You start off, placing your feet on top of her lap; and she's so used to it that she doesn't even flinch from the weight. "How was it?" you ask, making light conversation since you're not so sleepy yet.

Madison twirls a lock of brown hair in between her fingers and hums. "Painful to the chest at first, but thrilling." She says in awe, jumping a bit on her seat again. "If I knew it would give me that much of an explosion inside my body, I would have drank as early as a kid!"

You pout, shaking your head. If she drank starting as young as that, she would be lying on a graveyard right now. "I don't think that's something you'd want." You joke, playing with the fingers tickling on your ankles. "Did Mason drink too?"

Nodding her head, Madison winks at you. "Mason and I do everything together."

You once told Santana about your life with Madison, your roommate. You'd talk about all your funny moments together and the times Mason would come over and hang about. And Santana never misses to ask you on whether or not they are actually twins or pretending to be and actually dating. They were just so perfect for each other.

"Of course, I'm sorry for asking." You kid, cuddling yourself on the cushion below your head, wishing you were in another bed instead, but knowing it's not going to happen tonight. But at least she lets you sleep and hold her in your arms now when before, she'd kick you out before you can even say hey.

You wish Santana didn't have that call from her boss after you took a shower. You wish that boss didn't ask Santana to come into work early because no one else could make it. You wish you were with her but you know that's not happening anytime soon. Slowly, you'll get over her. "So, are we sleeping in the couch or what?"

"I'm tired, let's just sleep." She mumbles, closing her eyes slowly and you feel yourself start to drift too—into a land filled with dark mocha eyes and delicious caramel skin.

God, you're favorite chocolate would definitely be a Santana a la mode.

When you wake up, you should have expected the throbbing pain in the back of your neck. You slept in an awful position which you thought was comfy last night and when you turn to find your roomie, you see her halfway down the couch, snoring away. You laugh, shaking your head before wincing at the jolt of pain. "Ugh—" you groan, rotating your head to snap it off.

Madison is still fast asleep when you turn your head to look at the time. You nearly scream when you realize it's already 8:30am.

You're 30 minutes late from your lecture class.

Scrambling out of the soft sofa, you limp your numb body towards your room and grab a hoodie, pulling off your tank top as you replace it with your old high school jacket. The sweatpants have to go to because they're kind of sticky, so you replace them with short shorts. You turn to the mirror and frown when you see how messy your hair is.

God, you wish you had hair like Santana's, they were always in place no matter what.

You have no time to brush, so you grab a ponytail and tie it into a messy bun. At least you can look decent but in a hot kind of way. You apply a bit of lipstick and grab your school bag by the desk. You run to Madison, kiss her on the forehead and set the alarm for 12:00 for her class too and dash off before you miss the whole remaining 25 minutes of the class.

Arriving inside a class lecture wherein you're already 45 minutes late is not something you're proud of. In fact, you're not sure why you even showed up knowing it would be useless coming in. The professor would only embarrass you in front of the whole class.

But maybe that's the reason why you even risked yourself into coming in here—the professor is one thing you can't miss after all.

"Ms. Pierce, so nice of you to join us in our last 15 minutes of class."

You duck your head and feel your cheeks turning red, heating up inconsiderably. "I'm so sorry, I forgot to set my alarm earlier." You reason out, biting your lower lip when you hear the class start to laugh. You hate this feeling.

The professor walks forward, not that near you but close enough and taps her long, manicured fingers on your right shoulder. "But I sent an email saying class is going to start an hour early today."

You blush again, you of all people know that.

"I'm sorry." You couldn't help but stay, staring down at the floor as the class's laughter starts to get louder. You balance yourself on the balls of your feet as you feel that finger start tracing patterns near your collarbone, your back shielding the action from being seen by others.

"I'm sorry—what?" she asks you, and you sense her stare on your head that's bowed down. "I have a name Ms. Pierce. Please respect that."

You nod your head, clearing your throat. "I'm sorry Ms. Lopez, it won't happen again." You slowly raise your head and hold your breath when you lock eyes with chocolate brown orbs.

She's smirking at you.

"Good, now take a seat, you only got 10 minutes left anyways." She sighs, swiveling on the balls of her feet to turn around and saunter her way to the black board.

You make your way to your sit and ignore Quinn (the girl you've been seating beside for almost 3 months now) as she gives you an amused look.

"Okay, so going back to the lecture at hand, since Ms. Pierce thinks it's okay to enter whenever she likes, I have to explain why the derivate of this function is 1—from the top."

Everyone groans and you can feel death glares being thrown your way. Quinn leans close to you and whispers, "It took her 20 minutes for the whole thing. It's a really hard equation." She mumbles, and you roll your eyes, knowing you're on the top of everyone's hate list right now.

After Santana erases the board, she leans back and eyes the room. "And what about a surprise test while we're at it?"

You feel your face pale as Santana subtly flashes you a wink. There are more groans from the students around you and you really want to wipe off the smirk that's placed on Santana's annoyingly gorgeous lips.

"We have to thank Ms. Pierce for that one."

God, now you know why you hate her sometimes.

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