To say Santana is bored would be the understatement of the year. There she is, resting back into a wonderland of pillows, clad in the most revealing 'pajamas' she could find at the last minute when Britt called and said she wanted a girl's night in, absentmindedly tugging on a thread dangling from the edge of her panties, and she cannot believe she's actually bored. She looks over at Brittany, sitting behind the computer, and roams her eyes over her body shamelessly, taking in the way her shorts are riding up, tugging into folds around her waist, and the way her creamy skin is exposed to the edge of her pink underwear. She huffs in annoyance at her hopeful misunderstanding that Brittany's version of a girl's night in included one (or both) of said girls... ahem... eating out.
Instead, she's just lying there - sexy, bothered, and bored, while Brittany absentmindedly surfs Netflix on her laptop in search of a good movie to watch together later, clutching popcorn and snuggled up under the covers. Fully clothed, Santana realizes, and groans in annoyance again.
"What's wrong?" Brittany asks innocently, her eyes flicking up from her computer screen.
"I'm bored," Santana whines, letting her head fall back on the bed and sighing again.
Brittany tilts her head to the side and flashes her a sympathetic, adoring smile. "Just give me a minute. We'll watch something soon."
"What?" Santana asks, a goaded grumble in her voice. She's resigned herself to the situation by now, but that doesn't mean she's going to let Brittany pick the movie without at least some veto power.
"I don't know. Maybe we can watch a show or something," Brittany replies hopefully, grabs some headphones, and turns back to the screen. Santana shakes her head incredulously. Movies, shows... she wouldn't be surprised if Brittany finally ended up picking an audiobook to listen to in complete silence and aggravating inaction while, of course, every inch of them touched - shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, and sock-clad feet playing footsie over the edge of the bed, or with Brittany's head nestled in Santana's neck, leaving her laughs on her skin and pulling her close, teasing her with every moment they listen or watch or just lie there, when Santana can think of hundreds of things far more entertaining to do on a bed. Santana huffs again, and rolls over to bury her head in a pillow.
Her ears perk up when she hears Brittany giggle. She looks over her shoulder and tilts her head at Brittany's curious, captivated expression. She doesn't know if it's the light of the computer screen casting peculiar shadows across Brittany's features, but she's fairly sure she's only seen that expression on her face when she was thinking of something decidedly naughty to try out.
"What are you doing?"
Brittany doesn't reply, and her curious, fascinated expression grows.
"Britt-Britt?"
Brittany hunches down further, leaning even closer to the bright computer screen. Santana eyes her suspiciously.
"What are you doing?" she asks again, and swings her legs over the edge of the bed to get up. Instantly, Brittany looks up in surprise, as though she had forgotten Santana was even in the room, and self-consciously adjusts her headphones. Santana raises an eyebrow.
"It's nothing. I'm not doing anything," she squeaks, and clicks her mouse. The light of the screen goes out, and Brittany looks up innocently. Santana can see right through it. She raises eyebrows raise even higher, and she saunters closer to the desk.
"Are you reading smut or something (A/N: Are you, reader? Are you??)?" she asks, a laugh of amusement lightening her disgruntled mood.
"I'm not reading anything," Brittany replies, her look of innocence fading to one of increasing alarm with every step Santana takes towards her. Santana smirks.
