Clockwork | Brittana

Chapter 11

He watched her stare, her eyes inquisitive, her brow knitted. A pen was being twirled around her fingers methodically. She was thinking hard about something. Kurt could almost hear the gears turning in her head as she leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. Thinking.

"What are you looking at?" he asked when she sighed again.

She had been sighing all day, small puffs of breath escaping from her lips as she looked around and... didn't find Brittany. The journalist was spending this Friday at her office, making a report to her editor-in-chief about her progress and upcoming events. Santana, in short, had been pouting all day.

Santana glanced at him, blinking a few times because she had honestly forgotten he was even in the room. Her eyes slid back to her laptop and her mouth opened, she looked genuinely confused.

"Nothing."

"Don't play games with me," he huffed, setting his phone to the side to focus entirely on the woman in front of her. "You've been staring at your computer for the past twenty minutes and haven't touched your mouse once. Obviously something is pretty interesting."

"I..." she grudgingly shifted forward in her seat, he had a point, "I don't know what this means."

"What?"

She wiggled her mouse around, pulling the image onto one of the large LCD screens. It was a Facebook page, the blue font spelling out, Brittany S. Pierce.

"It's Brittany's Facebook," Kurt almost laughed, Santana was such a creeper. "Request her as a friend, it's not that hard."

"That's not what I'm talking about," Santana rolled her eyes and manipulated the image so the profile picture was magnified. "It's her profile picture."

Kurt felt even more confused, and almost worried about the Latina, had she been working too hard? Did she need a day off?

Santana groaned when it was obvious Kurt didn't understand, "That's my foot."

Kurt looked back to the photo, it was of two feet, one black Nike with red laces attached to a tan shin, and the other a white and blue Adidas on a leg of a significantly paler complexion.

"Is that you and Brittany at the gym?" he asked finally realizing.

"Yeah," Santana looked at the picture again, "she must have taken it with her phone when we were on the bench outside the yoga rooms."

Kurt looked back to Santana who was engrossed in analyzing the photo, "I still don't see the problem."

"That's my foot," she mumbled to herself, unsure why Kurt didn't get how important this was. "She put up a photo of us, as her profile picture."

Kurt stared.

"That doesn't seem significant to you at all?" she asked in a controlled voice, she was being forcefully objective. She wouldn't put too much stock into this before she had a second opinion.

He thought about it, and suddenly it dawned on him, an excited light coming into his eyes, "You don't think..."

"I really don't know," Santana mumbled, she shouldn't even be thinking about it.

Kurt thought back to the careless comments Brittany let slip in the gym, "It might be significant."

Santana eyed him but her voice was too cautious to be taken harshly, "Don't fuck with me Kurt."

"I'm being serious Santana," he stood from the couch and walked over to her desk, sliding himself up on the corner. "I think our little journalist might be interested in more than a good story."