"Pinguins love skinnydipping," Brittany pointed out seriously. "So they must be French." She sat on Santana's bed with a sigh, watching her friend walk into the room after her.
"Ugh," Santana sighed dramatically, ignoring Brittany's comment. "I can't believe my parents forced me to go to the aquarium. Thanks for coming with."
Brittany shrugged. "It was great. I love watching mountain-rays."
Santana gave her a look at that, but it didn't stop her rant. "I mean, we're in high school now. I'm a cheerleader!"
"Me too," Brittany pointed out, pulling her hairband out and combing her hair with her fingers.
Santana sighed and sat on the bed next to Brittany. "This is just so embarassing."
Brittany touched her arm, leaving her hair down. "You don't have to be embarassed. Nobody knows but me."
Santana's lip twisted. "You're coming to the party next weekend, right?" she asked, changing the subject.
"I guess. As long as you're going. I don't know anybody who's gonna be there."
"Are you kidding me? All the Cheerios will be there."
Brittany looked at her, feeling vulnerable. "Yeah, but I barely know any of them."
"Also football players," Santana pressed animatedly, grabbing her friend's arm. "Hot football players."
"Oh. Yeah." Brittany shifted uncomfortably, looking down.
"I've decided to kiss one of them," Santana announced. And then it seemed that Brittany's discomfort was contagious, because then Santana slunk back, embarassed. "I... I was thinking we could practice."
"Practice what?" Brittany was looking at her now, inquisitive.
"Kissing," Santana said nervously. "So I know I'm doing it right."
Brittany looked at her friend's lips, so full and round. "I bet you're already a really good kisser," she observed, a nervous excited tremor in her heart.
But Santana stood and walked to the window at that. "We don't have to," she said, not looking at Brittany.
"Oh," Brittany said, following her and grasping her own hair, having forgotten her hairband. "You don't want to anymore?"
Santana shrugged, looking away. "Maybe it's weird. But we all have lips, don't we?"
"I've never seen a guy with lips like yours," Brittany said honestly.
And then Santana turned to look at her. She adjusted Brittany's hair, pulling it around in front of her body, and then, still holding her hair, leaned forward.
Their lips pressed together, too hard, and then they backed off and Brittany stopped tightening her lips and they melted together, bringing a sweet mindlessness. They stayed together, surprised by the unfamiliar sensation; Brittany reflected that it felt very much the same as holding Santana in bed: tingly and full of anticipation. Except Santana's lips were so soft, and they tasted of her lip gloss and delicious chewy human taste.
She opened her lips, wanting to feel Santana's lips more fully, and the kiss deepened.
And then Santana stepped back away, searching Brittany's face. Brittany managed a smile through the heavy feeling in her throat and chest, down her legs and between them. "You taste good," she said.
Santana smiled vaguely back at her, pulling her to the bed and pushing her onto it. "Easier sitting down," she explained, and then brought her glorious delicious lips back.
