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Brittany isn't always the best at some things. Like, she knows that she's probably never going to win any of those awards for spelling the most words correctly or whatever. Sometimes when she's reading, the letters just blur together and then she gets bored and the bird outside her window is trying to talk to her and she has to go and apologize because she doesn't speak birdese.
But she can read people. People don't have pages or anything like that because that'd be weird if everyone had to walk around with pieces of paper sticking out all over the place, and could she still dance if she was a book? If she were a book and she tried to read herself, she'd probably get confused. She's pretty sure she could still read Rachel Berry as a book though, because Santana once told her that Rachel was a walking thesaurus and then she had to look up thesaurus in the dictionary.
So when she finds Rachel not-a-book Berry in the bathroom, drenched head to toe in red slushie, she doesn't need to be good at reading to know that Rachel's upset.
"Hi, Rachel," she greets as she steps carefully into the pool of slushie at her feet.
Rachel looks up and tries to smile. "Hello, Brittany."
"I can help you wash your hair if you want," Brittany offers, because it's the nice thing to do and because Rachel's hair kind of reminds her of Santana's hair and she really likes touching people's hair. Maybe she'll be a hairdresser when she grows up.
Before Rachel can respond, Brittany props a chair against the side of the sink and makes Rachel sit down. Gently, she tilts Rachel's head back so that her hair falls over into the sink. Brittany turns on the water and slowly runs her fingers through Rachel's slushie-drenched hair.
"Your hair is really soft, like my hamster's butt."
"Thank you. I--"
And then Rachel starts talking about her daily hair care routine and Brittany suddenly remembers that she had really awesome sex on the weekend so she doesn't really pay any attention to what Rachel's saying.
Rachel's mouth is still moving when Brittany notices a splatter of slushie on Rachel's cheek. It's like really distracting because all Brittany can think about is the fact that if Rachel had it on her other cheek too, maybe she'd be able to shoot electricity out of her cheeks like Pikachu.
But her hands are busy washing Rachel's hair so she can't just reach over and wipe it off. And then Brittany comes up with the most genius idea ever. Like she could probably win one of those noble prizes or whatever. (She never understood what being honorable had to do with being smart. Maybe she'll ask Santana later.)
Brittany leans down and without much fanfare, her tongue darts out and she licks Rachel's cheek clean. Rachel's eyes widen, but otherwise, she doesn't move.
As soon as she pulls away, Brittany scrunches up her nose in thought. "Did you like that as much as I did?"
Rachel licks her lips, and Brittany's pretty sure she doesn't do it on purpose, but it's totally hot anyway, and Rachel has really full lips that look like they'd be good for kissing. Plus, Rachel's super sad, and when Brittany's super sad, all she wants is for someone to kiss her. So she leans down and presses her lips against Rachel's, and oh yeah, they're totally kissable lips. Brittany's pretty smart about that kind of stuff.
Brittany's hands are still in Rachel's wet hair when Rachel's arms loop around Brittany's neck to pull her closer. Brittany's just about to dip her tongue into Rachel's mouth when the bathroom door swings open behind her.
"What the hell is going on here?"
Brittany pulls away and turns toward the sound.
"Oh hey, Santana. You're not a book. I think if you were a book, you'd be the Kama Sutra."
Santana's eyes are wide, almost horrified, like that one time Brittany had asked her how many calories eating her out counted for, because Coach had asked them to keep track of how much they ate in a week. She was just trying to do her homework.
Santana eyes Rachel warily. "Britt, what the fuck were you doing?"
"Rachel has really soft lips. You want to try?"
Arms crossed over her chest, Santana approaches. "No, I don't—are you washing her hair?"
"She got slushied. It's cherry. Your favorite." Brittany untangles her fingers from Rachel's hair and wipes them on her Cheerios skirt. She skips over to Santana and grabs her face. "Here, taste."
She kisses Santana, making sure to thrust her tongue into her mouth so Santana can get a proper tasting. Santana groans and presses Brittany back against one of the free sinks as her hands trail down Brittany's sides. Santana's lips slide down to Brittany's throat. She's totally about to get some when Rachel clears her throat. Loudly.
Santana stops moving. "Ugh, what is it?"
Rachel, now standing with her hands firmly against her hips, flips her wet hair over her shoulder. "The washroom is not an appropriate place for your homosexual trysts."
"Try and stop us, Yentl," Santana warns.
"Who's Yentl?" Brittany asks. "Wait, is that the abdominal snowman?"
"Abominable, Brittany," Rachel corrects. "Abdominal refers to your abdomen." Her hand hovers over her own midsection. "And that's Yeti."
Brittany blinks. "If I made a snowman of Mike Chang, would he be the abdominal snowman?"
Rachel and Santana both turn to stare at Brittany. She shrugs and reaches for Rachel's hand. She pulls her closer. Brittany doesn't see what the big deal is. She likes kissing people, and it makes people feel better when she touches them and plays with their hair. Santana likes it, and she can tell that Rachel does too.
Brittany leans in and kisses Santana first. It's a quick kiss, and Santana makes a displeased noise when Brittany pulls away to kiss Rachel. That one lasts longer, mostly because she's never kissed Rachel before today and--
She loses her train of thought, because she feels Santana's lips nipping at her neck, her hands sliding shamelessly under her Cheerios top. Brittany breaks away from Rachel momentarily, her head thrown back in pleasure when Santana nudges a leg between her thighs.
Rachel appears hesitant for a moment, then skirts her palm up Santana's back. Santana tears herself away from Brittany's neck, but she seems to reconsider her plan of attack when she sees Rachel there, eyes wide but eager.
Brittany takes Santana's earlobe into her mouth and sucks gently. "Kiss her," Brittany whispers. "She still tastes like cherry slushie, but like, Jewish."
She hears Santana moan, then the sound of Rachel gasping. She pulls away from Santana and watches the two brunettes kiss for a moment. It's totally hot, especially because Santana's hand is still under her shirt, and Rachel's fingers are still intertwined with hers. Brittany leans over and leaves a trail of kisses up Rachel's jaw line, enjoying the breathy sounds coming from the other two.
Santana breaks away with a start, and she backs away. "That did not just happen."
Brittany grins. "She tastes like Jewish cherries, right? It's totally cool."
"Could we finish this in a more private area?" Rachel asks. "I am rather uncomfortable with the idea that anyone could enter and witness our little venture. I assure you I have no moral issues with polyamory; however, we must take into account the social implications of our newfound relationship, and I am not about to sabotage my future career because--"
"Stop talking," Santana interrupts. "Just--shut up."
Brittany claps her hands together. "If you kiss her again, she won't be able to talk. Go, San!"
Santana stares at Rachel for a second before making a gagging sound. "No way in hell."
Brittany shrugs. "Oh well. At least I stopped Rachel from turning into a Pokemon."
fin