HELLO READERS.

You probably asked yourselves: wait, why the sudden porn? The interlude was something I had written and posted exclusively on my Tumblr a while ago. I decided to post it here to serve as a -BREAK- between my pre-hiatus and the present moment.

Consider what you've had so far Part I. We shall now begin Part II!

(I've been answering questions and headcanons and taking sub-prompts for this fic on my Tumblr, if you want to drop by. If you're interested in zodiac signs, you'll find out theirs as well.)

SUBWAY RIDES

PART II

I

Rachel steps into the living room, bangs clinging to the sweat on her forehead.

Brittany waves at her over her magazine, chewing her sandwich. "Good run?"

"Yes, Brittany. Thank you for asking. Very invigorating!" Rachel says, 5-syllable words dropping from her mouth like it's no big deal. "And you've got correspondence."

She places the envelope on Brittany's lap and goes for a shower.

Brittany examines the soft material, the light peach color of the envelope, the pleasant sweet smell that rises from it.

QUINN FABRAY

Invites you to

her birthday celebration

She stares at the address and the RSVP info. What is black tie, anyway? Cocktail dresses? Does she have a long fancy dress?

Isn't Quinn supposed to hate her guts and challenge her to a throw down in a dark alley for having made her best friend cry?

She dials Santana's number. "Am I invited to Quinn's birthday? Really?"

"Hey you," Santana answers, melodious. "Nice to talk to you as well."

Brittany rolls her eyes, smiling. "Hi, Santana, how are you today?"

"I'm very well, thank you." She replies, laughing shortly. "And yes, I believe you are."

"Who sends invites through the mail in the 21st century?"

"Be good, Britt," Santana admonishes; there's the faint sound of fingers typing on a keyboard in the background. "Quinn's family is old fashioned."

She nods to no one in particular. "I don't have anything to wear."

Santana hums. "I'll take you shopping. How about that, baby?"

Brittany blushes at the nickname, biting back a smile. "Sounds good."

She can hear Santana's smile on the other side of the line. "We're going to look gorgeous, trust me."

II

It's a great idea, yes.

Santana looks delicious in a navy blue dress, a black belt directing all the attention to her slim waist and barely adequate cleavage.

"You're stunning." She's standing behind Brittany, looking into her eyes in the mirror, both hands on Brittany's waist. "I think we have a winner."

Brittany looks at her reflection. The black and white dress is really something else: ornately patterned bodice that creates a mock turtle neckline; nothing but classic A-line skirt down to her knees.

"I don't think I've ever looked this good." She does a half twirl, the skirt moving with grace around her thighs, to look at Santana face-to-face.

Santana places a lock of hair behind Brittany's ear, the tips of her fingers fluttering over her jaw.

They're both smiling; Brittany's cheek feels warm.

III

"Let's get you out of this," Santana says in her ear, unzipping the dress slowly, her body brushing against Brittany's from behind.

Her hands brush against Brittany's body as she steps out of the dress; Brittany shivers.

Santana carefully places the dress back on its hanger. Her gaze lingers on Brittany's semi-naked body, appreciative.

Brittany licks her lips. "Like what you see?"

Santana hums, a hand on Brittany's hip to push her against the wall. "Very much," she says, voice octaves lower than usual.

She claims Brittany's lips in a wet kiss, scratching Brittany's waist and earning a whimper.

She breaks the kiss when Brittany's hand finds the zipper on the back of her dress.

"Not here." She runs her index finger over the corner of her lips, cleaning the smudges of lipstick in a way she has to know will get Brittany even more bothered.

"So not fair," she huffs, but puts her old dress on anyway.

IV

The saleswoman beams at their choice, of course; a 500-dollar dress isn't just any purchase.

Brittany supposes her 600-dollar savings were for moments like these, reaching within her purse for her wallet.

Santana holds her wrist and hands her own credit card over. "This one is on me."

"Santana, no," Brittany says, taking a step forward to stop her.

"I never gave you a proper gift." Santana says softly, eyes never leaving Brittany's. "I want to. Let me."

She looks at Santana for several moments before sighing in defeat, placing her wallet back in her purse. "Okay."

Santana smiles wide, pushing her card towards the saleswoman and turning to Brittany. "Thank you," she says, stealing a kiss.

"No, thank you," Brittany answers, kissing Santana's temple and wrapping an arm around her waist.

V

Rachel sips Kurt's martini. "Sorry, Kurt, but Santana's much better."

Kurt scoffs, pulling the poker chips in his direction. "You are just a sore loser, Ms. Rachel Berry."

Mike chews gum, wearing sunglasses because "this is how poker players do it", and deals the next hand.

Brittany's got two kings. Awesome. She sips her drink, trying not to let her emotions show.

Poker face. No they can't read her poker face.

Blaine points at her. "But let's not drop the subject here. She bought you a dress?"

"It's so lovely!" Rachel claps her hands, almost dropping her cards in the process. "So elegant."

Mike bumps Brittany's shoulder a bit. "What are you, a princess or something?" He mocks, stupid smile on his face.

Tina, on his right, slaps his shoulder. "You should buy me dresses."

It shuts him right up. Brittany sticks out her tongue at him and raises the bet.

Her phone rings the Santana Ringtone. She picks it up right away. "Hi," she says, a little breathless.

Mike fake-makes out with thin air, slurping sounds and everything. Tina swats his arm again, rolling her eyes.

"Hey there. Having fun at poker night?"

She stares at Blaine's hesitation before dropping out of the round. "Yes. How's your party planning?"

"You know Quinn," Santana says with an exaggerated sigh. "She gets off on micromanaging." Quinn says hey! in the background. "She has something to ask you."

Quinn? Something to ask? "Yes?"

"We have a tradition. Every year, after her fancy and boring celebration we go to a club and have some real fun. Would you and the gang," Santana stresses the final word, mocking, "like to come with us?"

It's probably a big deal. Brittany's friends and Santana's friends, together. "Really?"

"Of course. All on Quinn. No one pays for anything on her birthday."

She takes the phone away from her ear and muffles the microphone area with her hand. "Guys," she calls their attention. "Guys," she whines until everyone is focused on her. "Santana is inviting us to go out clubbing next Saturday. Quinn is paying. It's her birthday."

"YES!" Rachel and Kurt scream at the same time. "SANTANA, WE LOVE YOU!"

Santana laughs, clearly aware of the conversation. "Tell them I love them right back."

Brittany tries really hard not to blush.

Mike and Tina share a look before turning to Brittany and nodding in unison. "We're on board."

"Count me in," Blaine adds, finishing his drink.

"Great," Santana answers, voice business-like mode. "One more thing: can we get ready at your place? We figured it would be the quickest option. We can all go together from there."

"Sure."

"Great, great," she said, focused voice turning softer at the end. "Have fun. Take all their money and buy me a drink."

Brittany smiles like a goof.

VI

Rachel lends her the earrings, necklace and black handbag five days in advance.

The both of them might be a little too anxious for their own good.

VII

The elevator doors slide open and it's wow.

Wow.

The Fabrays do know how to make an impression.

The glass walls all around bring so much space and the gorgeous, gorgeous view of Fifth Avenue spreads out under them.

Brittany takes some time to take it all in; the expensive decoration, dark tones contrasting with hot colors, impeccably dressed staff putting on the last touches.

She sees Santana at a distance, posing with the Fabrays for a family picture, and makes a mental note.

Santana turns around and spots Brittany.

Wow.

She's in a deep red dress that reaches her knees and it's something else. Brittany takes a deep breath. Straight neckline and cap sleeves, print decorating the entire length with two-tone fabric, and pitch black tights.

Sex on legs.

Wow.

Suddenly Santana is right in front of her. "Hi."

"You're gorgeous," she blurts out, because really.

Santana runs her fingers down the back of Brittany's arm, smiling. "I think you meant you're gorgeous."

"Nope," Brittany shakes her head enthusiastically. "It's definitely you."

Santana smiles and intertwines their fingers. "C'mon, you have to meet the family."

Wait. No one had said anything about family!

VIII

The Fabray parents turn around, bright white smiles and smooth blond hair.

"So this is the famous Brittany Pierce," the woman says, champagne in one hand as she offers the other. "I'm Judy."

Brittany takes her hand and kisses her cheeks. She smells citric and sharp. "Nice to meet you."

"I'm Russell," he says, his voice deep and masculine. He kisses Brittany's hand like a gentleman. "And you're much more beautiful than Santana let on."

Santana's firm arm sneaks around Brittany's waist. "I wanted to say you're the most beautiful woman I've ever met, but they would think I was just bragging."

Brittany blushes over the blush that's already on her cheeks, if that's even possible.

Judy spots something in the distance, elegant neck turning to her right. "Oh, look, the mayor and his wife have just arrived. We should say hello to them."

"Of course," Russell says, his good-natured eyes resting on Brittany's. "We should have you over for dinner. We're not done with you yet."

"Only if you make the lasagna." Santana takes two champagne glasses from the nearest waiter and hands Brittany one, turning to Judy.

Judy smiles motherly and proud. "Anything you want, sweetie."

Brittany's heart thumps violently in her chest as the Fabrays excuse themselves.

"That was good. Right?" She looks at Santana, eyes wide.

"That was perfect." Santana squeezes her waist, posture relaxing. "You're just lucky you're cute."

Brittany wants to kiss her so bad; she curses the red lipstick, so inviting and so forbidden.

Santana's face turns softer, smoother, and she takes a deep breath as if she wants to say something. Brittany waits.

"Thank you," she starts, hesitant. "The Fabrays are really important to me." She finishes her drink, trying to look cool – and failing. "My coming out was… complicated, and I was just a teenager. They took me in."

Brittany wants to take that old, that present pain and lift it, fold it away. She cups the back of Santana's neck.

Santana just looks at her for a moment, leaning into her touch. "I don't really talk to my father."

"I'm sorry for that."

Santana shrugs. "Nothing I can do." She grabs Brittany's hand and tries a smile. "Now let's find Quinn so you can wish her a happy birthday."

Off they go.