Backlog: I'll Be There For You When The Rain Starts To Fall
Who: Brittany and Santana
When: Saturday 26 March 2019
Where: B’s apartment
What: Lunches and stuff
Status: Complete
“Thanks for being here,” Brittany said quietly as she fished the take-out boxes from the paper bag. Kitty chased Strawberry around her ankles as she arranged the napkins and chopsticks. “I really needed someone to be here, and Quinn’s busy with the twins and her pregnancy and Emma... I just... felt too much like a hypocrite to tell her.” She sighed and shook her head.
“I just... didn’t expect Dad to suddenly care. Five years of nothing, and suddenly a letter? I don’t know. It’s just... weird,” Brittany rambled.
Santana placed her hand between Brittany’s shoulder blades as she stepped up next to her, pressing gently. “Of course,” she said just as quietly. “It does seem a little weird, but it’s a start, you know?” She reached for the paper bag. “Here, gimme that. I’ll take care of it.” She folded the bag slowly. “So,” she said casually. “Have you read it yet?”
Brittany shook her head. “Not completely,” she admitted, “Just scanned. Every time I start, I get so angry I can’t finish.” She looked down at her feet, watching Kitty look back up at her and blink as though confused at how her owner could be so upset when she was so happy. Kitty returned her attention to Strawberry and Brittany looked back up at Santana. “Maybe I’m a bad person, but I don’t want him to be back. He let us be nonexistent to him for years. Why now? And B really wants to write him back, but I don’t know how.”
“You’re not a bad person, B. And I’m not just saying that,” Santana added quickly. “He let you guys leave without really fighting for you to stay. You’re allowed to be angry. Little B, though,” Santana said, sighing. “I’m sure she doesn’t even realize what writing back to him means. She probably doesn’t even understand what getting a letter from him means.”
“Maybe,” Brittany sighed, opening the containers. “Are you the chicken or am I? I don’t remember. In fact, which one is which?” She looked helplessly at Santana. “I’m so bad at this. All of this. Remembering and stuff. And forgiving.” She paused, aware for a brief moment that her parents weren’t the only people she had yet to forgive. “And... being an adult about things. For B’s sake. I just don’t know how. I can’t even tell Chinese food apart.”
Santana smiled softly. “This one,” she said, popping open the to-go box and peering inside. “This one is yours. And I’m assuming this one is mine,” she finished, pointing at another box. “You’re just distracted right now. You can tell Chinese food apart. I’ve seen you do it hundreds of times.” She turned away from Brittany and opened another to-go box, the word “forgiving” and the way Brittany had said it resonating in her. She knew she had a long way to go, earning Brittany’s forgiveness, but that the blonde had called her made her feel like maybe it wasn’t as far as she had thought.
Brittany nodded. “Distracted,” she echoed. “Anyways, I’m glad you’re here. I hope, uhm, Lola’s not too mad at me for stealing you. But, I mean, Kitty was getting antsy, and, well, it’s just... nice to have you... here.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s just nice to have someone,” she repeated dumbly.
“Strawberry missed Kitty,” Santana said, shrugging it off. “And I’m glad you called. Come on.” She steered Brittany towards her seat and gently pushed her down. “We can eat and talk at the same time, if that’s what you want to do.”
Brittany nodded, smiling softly. “Sorry I’m so useless,” she said, picking at the corner of her table. “I just... haven’t felt so many things at once like this in... a while. There are so many things I don’t know how I feel about and I just feel overloaded.” She twirled her chopsticks in her hand. “I wish things were simpler.”
“You’re anything but useless, B,” Santana argued. She peered into her take-out container and frowned a little. Without thinking, she reached across the table and plucked a piece of spare rib out of B’s container and dropped it into her own container of rice. “It’s... Well, what do you want to feel? If you had to pick one thing, what would it be?”
“Happy,” Brittany answered, not even registering that their sharing of food was supposed to be out of the ordinary or something. “I would be happy. I would be happy that Emma’s got a big job out in Boston. I would be happy that Dad wants a second chance. I would be happy that y-” that you’ve come home engaged. She shook her head, spooning some fried rice into her mouth. “I would be happy.”
Santana paused at Brittany’s aborted sentence but let it pass. “So what’s in the way of you feeling happy?” she asked gently.
“Everything else,” Brittany replied. “Being afraid. Being afraid of being hurt. Of feeling like... of feeling like...” She began picking at her table again. “Of feeling like I’m broken. And I’m just terrified of everything. I’m scared Emma won’t come back and I won’t follow after her. I’m scared Dad will only hurt us more. I’m scared Dad’ll hurt Bree. And I’m mad. I’m mad Dad’s decided now to talk to us. I’m mad he waited five years. I’m mad he never stuck up for us. And I don’t like being mad and scared. It just... it doesn’t feel good.”
Santana leaned forward and dropped her hand on top of Brittany’s, stilling the blonde’s movements. “Why,” she started and swallowed dryly. Why wouldn’t Emma come back? she wanted to ask, but she forced the question down and changed routes. “Of course it doesn’t feel good. Being mad and scared... it’s the one of worst combination of feelings.” She absentmindedly drew small circles on the back of Brittany’s hand. “But B, you’re one of the bravest people I know. And your Dad can’t scare you if you don’t let him. Maybe he wrote about why he never said anything, or stuck up for you. I mean, you only scanned it, right? Maybe he explained things.”
An all too familiar calmness swept over Brittany, each stroke of Santana’s thumb like counter currents blocking out her need to scream. “I don’t know, S,” she said quietly, “sometimes I think that’ll be even worse. You know, if he tries to act like he had an excuse for the years he didn’t say anything to Mom. Like I’m supposed to go running back to him just because he’s my dad. Like I’m supposed to let Bree go running back to him just because he’s our dad. He could’ve helped. He always could’ve. But he didn’t. And I just... I don’t know how to forgive him.” She met Santana’s eyes. “How do you forgive someone who broke you? Just splintered you up like spare wood? How do you know they’re not just coming back for more?”
Santana paused, her thumb stopping mid-circle. She had done that to Brittany too - from everything she had been told by Rachel and Quinn and everything she saw when she looked at Brittany, she had done the same thing. Maybe even worse. “I think,” she said quietly, “that you just have to believe they won’t. That they know what they did wrong and they’re just trying to fix it.”
Once Santana’s thumb stopped moving, it was like a switch had been flipped off and Brittany found herself acutely aware of the thick, awkward silence filling her kitchen and the burning heat emanating from where their hands were still touching. Brittany chewed her lower lip before responding. “And what if I forgive him? What if I let him come back and he still doesn’t know what to do? Maybe he means to make right now, but what if he doesn’t know how or if he screws it up? This is more than just me, S. I don’t know how to be okay if I let him come back and he hurts B.”
“You remember,” Santana started, scooting her chair a little closer and moving her thumb in circles again. “You remember how I told you that Little B would be okay, because she has you? He won’t hurt her because you won’t let her. I know you would never let anything hurt her. She knows it. You know it. And if you never give him the chance, he’ll never hurt you, but... But if you give him a chance... maybe he won’t.”
Brittany nodded and sighed softly. “I do miss him,” she admitted quietly, “I miss him a lot. Especially at the holidays and on B’s birthday. I miss Mom, too. I miss my parents. I miss being a family. Sometimes I... I wonder if everything’s changed too much, though. I worry that not enough has changed. I don’t know, S. Part of me just doesn’t think this feels right, and part of me thinks it’s what we need, and I don’t know which part of me I’m supposed to listen to. I don’t know which part of me I trust more.”
Santana shrugged. “I think you’re supposed to trust whichever one this is telling you to do,” she said, tapping her chest over where her heart was.
“But that’s the thing,” Brittany answered, “it’s got two totally different directions.” She shook her head. “I’ve already told B to go ahead and write back, anyways. I just... don’t know if I did the right thing. And if he wants to really see us, I don’t know if I’ll want to go. I don’t know if I’m supposed to want to go. I just don’t know.”
“Little B is a big girl. Well, she’s not. She’s little, but you know what I mean. And you are doing so, so well taking care of her. And letting her make her own decision might be something she needs to do? Maybe if you let her make her own decision, you can make yours a little easier?” Santana suggested slowly.
Brittany shrugged. “I guess,” she sighed. She laughed softly. “You’d think five years would be enough time to make a decision, and here I am without a clue what to do. But I was always kind of slow, right?”
Santana sat up straight abruptly. “You’re not slow,” she said firmly. “No one would know what to do, no matter who they are. You’re not slow.”
Brittany smiled lightly. “Thanks,” she said quietly. “What do you think I should do? What would you do if you were me?”
“I don’t know,” Santana said, sighing. “If I were you... I wouldn’t want to miss out on my parents, I don’t think.”
Brittany nodded. “Yeah,” she said, letting out a deep breath. “Tell me something happy. Anything.”
Santana frowned for a minute, thinking. “Oh,” she said after a minute. “It’s kind of happy, I think. Finn and I are drinking buddies. Like, we’re gonna go out and drink. Together. On a regular basis.” She frowned again. “Actually, I think that’s more weird than happy.”
Brittany chuckled. “Well, that’s good. Friends are always good,” she grinned. “Finn’s been so great with Abby. He really stepped up when Puck left. It’s good to hear he’s got more friends.”
“And what about me?” Santana asked, faking disbelief. “Isn’t it great that I have more friends. That I’m friends with Finn, of all people?”
Brittany laughed. “Sure, sure, sure,” she teased, “I’m glad someone else is willing to put up with you, too.” She smiled. “Really, though. I’m glad you guys can be friends now. He’s really nice, and sometimes he’s a lot cooler than we thought he was in high school.”
“The three of us should go sometime,” Santana said. “Try and redo that awful attempt at the three of us going to Breadstix.” She smiled crookedly. “But you’re right. He’s not terrible, I guess. Though, for someone so... big, he kind of drinks like a chick. I mean, I drank him under the table when we first went out.”
Brittany laughed again, a wide smile spreading across her face. “You’ve just had more practice,” she teased. “But Breadstix sounds fun. Just that this time, we’d all be going as friends. Which could be a lot more fun since last time was... bad. We could try and be nicer this time, since now we actually like him.”
As friends echoed dully in Santana’s head but she smiled anyway. “Not too nice. I wouldn’t want him thinking he’s hot stuff or anything. Gotta keep that boy in check. Anyway.” She shook her head and met Brittany’s eyes. “You tell me something happy. Go.”
“I finally met the Berry twins and they are so cute,” Brittany replied brightly. “They just might be the cutest little babies I’ve ever seen ever.”
Santana’s grin stretched wider. “Aren’t they? Isn’t Olivia the cutest thing? She’s Mini Me,” she boasted. “And Benji... he’s going to break hearts, I can already tell. But Mini Me is the prettiest girl I’ve ever met. She’s just so little and cute and perfect and she’s going to be awesome when she grows up.”
“Oh, she’s a mini you, huh?” Brittany laughed. “She is adorable and cute and wonderful, so I guess that works, right? Both of those babies are going to be such gorgeous little children. I wish they could talk already. I can’t wait to have Olive in my dance classes. She’s going to be really good. I can tell.”
“Of course she’s going to be good. She’s a mini me,” Santana said. “I love hanging out with them. I know they’re just babies, but they’re so much fun. And I think they can, like, hear me. Because I was telling Olivia about me and she kept gurgling.” Santana shrugged. “Then again, she might have just been gassy.”
Brittany giggled. “Oh, I remember your dancing skills leaving something to be desired the last time,” Brittany joked, “so I’m hoping Olive’s dancing isn’t going to be like yours. They were sleeping when I went to go see them. I wish I could’ve heard her gurgle. I bet it was really cute. She’s superly super cute.”
Santana laughed. “Superly super cute? It was definitely something close to that. You wait, though. I’m gonna make sure she’s just like me. Quinn will be so pissed. It’ll be awesome.”
Brittany grinned. “Don’t do that,” Brittany warned half jokingly, “You know how it is. When Quinn’s mad, everyone loses. Besides, she could never be exactly like you. She’s got Rachel in her. It’d never happen.”
“Well, ruin all my fun, why don’t you,” Santana pouted. She thought about making a stupid joke, something like: Well, Rachel had a little of me in her too, so there’s hope but something told her it wouldn’t sound that funny out loud so she swallowed the thought back. “At least I have Strawberry,” she said instead.
Brittany smiled, a blush creeping up her neck as Santana continued to make a face that would always make her heart skip a beat. “Well, I don’t think Strawberry’s going to be around much longer either. Those two look like they might just run away and elope,” she said nodding toward the kittens still rubbing their heads against one another like the week and a half they’d spent apart had been some sort of eternity.
Santana twirled a chopstick with her free hand. “Yeah, well, we better be the witnesses if that’s what happens. Though, Strawberry should know, I don’t approve of running off and getting married if she doesn’t have a firm financial future.” She looked down and stared pointedly at her kitten. Strawberry merely looked up and blinked at her. “Yeah, you heard me, punk.”
Brittany laughed and smacked Santana lightly. “Be nice to your kitten,” she scolded before turning to Kitty. “If you’re happy, I’m happy,” she said to her kitten. “But no running away, please. I like you and Cat does, too. And we’d miss you a lot.” Kitty ignored her, too busy nuzzling Strawberry. Brittany sighed. “Well, what’re you gonna do?”
“Financially stable,” Santana repeated sternly. She smiled at Brittany. “They won’t run away. Face the wrath of Cat? I don’t think so.”
Brittany grinned. “Well, good. I’d miss them if they did,” Brittany replied with a laugh. She leaned down to scratch Kitty behind her ear, but the kitten shook her off. She chuckled. “Okay, okay,” she murmured, “I’ll let you two be.”
“Man,” Santana said, shaking her head. “That was kind of rude. Watch and learn.” She bent forward and beckoned Strawberry closer. The kitten sneezed and backed away, nuzzling into Kitty’s side. Santana sat back up stiffly. “Well. Fine then, missy. I’ll remember that next time you want to spend the night snugly in my shoe.”
Brittany laughed. “Mmhmm,” she smiled, “Santana Lopez, you have a much better way with our kittens than I do.”
Santana glared playfully at Brittany. “I know you’re being sarcastic, but I choose to take that as a compliment.” She smiled widely and stabbed a piece of quickly-cooling spare rib from Brittany’s take-out box. “And you’re just going to have to deal with that.”
Brittany chortled. “Yeah, sure,” she responded, suppressing a giggle. “It’s going to be very emotionally draining, but I guess I’ll just have to learn to manage with the weight of it all.”
“Again with the sarcasm,” Santana said, clucking her tongue. “You better knock it off, Mouth.”
Brittany blinked. “Wait, who’s Mouth? Are you talking to my mouth? That’s kind of weird, San,” she said, raising her eyebrow curiously.
“You. You’re the mouth. You’re being mouthy,” Santana said, lifting an eyebrow back at Brittany. “And I said to knock it off, mouthy.”
“Oh,” Brittany said quietly, “sorry.” She sucked her lips inside her mouth and grinned. “Better?” she gargled.
Santana’s jaw dropped a little. “Smartass,” she muttered under her breath. “You think you’re so damn cute, don’t you?”
“I know so,” Brittany replied smugly, picking up one of her ribs and taking a bite.
Santana made a face and went to lift her hand, only to realize it was still tangled in Brittany’s. She thought about it and decided to leave it, just for another minute and twirled a lo mien noodle around her chopstick. “This is better than I remember it being.”
Brittany smiled. “Yeah,” she grinned, “it is. Though, I don’t think I ever remembered it as being bad.”
“No,” Santana said, smiling. “It wasn’t ever bad. It’s just as good. And a little better.”
“Is it really better, though?” Brittany mused, “Maybe we just don’t remember it as good as it really was. Maybe it’s really just the same.”
“Maybe,” Santana echoed. “Maybe I just forgot for a minute.” She tilted her head to the side. “Ah. Now I remember.”
Brittany raised her eyebrow. “What do you remember?”
“That is was good,” Santana said, smiling a little.
“Oh,” Brittany replied. “I don’t know. I guess that’s just something I don’t know how to forget.”
Santana picked at a spare rib. “Me either,” she admitted quietly. She peered down at the kittens on the floor and glanced back up at Brittany. “Hey, Britney Spears came on the radio during the drive over. Made me think of you.”
“Oh,” Brittany shrugged, picking at her food. “I thought she died or something. Unless it was a rerun.”
Santana frowned at the change in Brittany’s mood. “It was the radio. Half the people on there are dead. Plus, it was an oldies station. So... it was a good song. We sang it better, obviously,” she said, ducking her head and trying to catch Brittany’s eye. She squeezed Brittany’s hand gently.
Brittany nodded, trying to ignore the way her heart skipped a beat when Santana squeezed her hand. She gave her a half-hearted smile. “Of course we did,” she replied, “We were awesome. Awesome singers.”
“I bet we’re still pretty awesome,” Santana said. A half-smile was better nothing, she figured. Still, she wanted that smile back, the one that made her smile back no matter what her mood was. “We could outsing Rachel, I bet.”
Brittany laughed softly. “I’m going to tell Rachel you said that, and she’s going to flay you alive,” she joked.
Santana waggled her eyebrows at Brittany. “Not if I make sure that I always keep you in front of me. Plus, I think I can run faster than her. But you’re my first line of defense. As long as I’ve got you, she wouldn’t try anything.”
Brittany rolled her eyes, but smiled. “Yeah? That so? You’re lucky I don’t want you dead, then, I guess.”
“You wouldn’t...” Santana trailed off. “You wouldn’t let her hurt me, would you? Because,” she lowered her voice. “She kind of scares me sometimes. She gets this look in her eye and it’s just like... I feel the need to turn and run in the opposite direction.”
“I might let her get one good one in,” Brittany said humorously, giggling when Santana’s face dropped. “I’m kidding, San. I’ll protect you. Promise.”
Santana leaned back in her seat. “Uh huh. Sure. I see how it is. I’ll just have to keep one eye on her and one eye making sure you’re not going to just up and turn on me.”
Brittany laughed, tugging on Santana’s hand lightly. “Aww, I was just kidding, San,” she promised, “I’ll protect you from Rachel. I lo- I’ll, uh, protect you.” She swallowed hard, awkwardly turning her head. It had been too much of a habit. Banter would happen, and she’d fall right in. But she wasn’t allowed to fall back in right now. Couldn’t fall back in. She turned her head back. “I won’t turn on you. Really.”
“I know you won’t, B,” Santana said softly. This time, she looked away, focusing on the kittens rolling around on the ground, purring at each other. She wanted to know what Brittany was going to say, but a part of her already knew and that ache in her chest, the one she had told Rachel about, flared up again. She was being unfair, sitting here with Brittany’s hand in hers, joking around like she didn’t do anything wrong or hurt Brittany the way she had. You’re such a bitch, a voice in the back of her head whispered. Santana clenched her jaw and started pulling her hand away from Brittany’s, eyes still watching Strawberry tumble across the room.
Brittany felt Santana begin to pull away, and before she could stop herself, she tugged it back. “Hey,” she said softly, trying to catch Santana’s eye, “I’m...” She chewed her lip for a moment before deciding to give her a gift, a tiny piece of her, so that maybe she wouldn’t look so upset. “I’m really glad you’re home, that you’re back,” she finished.
Santana lifted her head a little and gave Brittany a smile that faded quickly. “So am I,” she said quietly. “I missed it here,” she admitted. “I missed it a lot.”
Brittany ran her thumb over Santana’s knuckle and smiled lightly. “So then don’t go disappearing again. Besides, if you do, our kittens will commit pesticide, and I don’t want to be held accountable for that kind of thing,” she replied.
“Pesticide,” Santana repeated slowly. Getting used to the way Brittany used words was hard when she was younger but as she grew older it became second nature. She was a little rusty, but she said the word in her head a few times before giving Brittany a slow smile as she figured it out. “They’ll commit homicide, huh? I can see the headline now: Killer Kittens, Wanted. And when they can’t find them, they’ll definitely take you.”
“Exactly,” Brittany sighed. “So, don’t make that happen. I don’t think I’ll last in the Big House.” She felt Strawberry bump against her foot and smiled, leaning down briefly to stroke the kitten’s ear. “Plus, I don’t think I can handle you getting killed. Especially by our kittens.”
Santana squeezed Brittany’s hand gently and smiled crookedly at her. “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”
Brittany felt blood rush to her cheeks, so she tried to keep her face turned toward their kittens. “That’s good,” she replied somewhat awkwardly, biting back the inevitable smile spreading across her face.
“Yeah?” Santana couldn’t stop herself from making her statement sound like a question and she felt her face flush.
“Yeah,” Brittany answered, her voice cracking as she answered. Her face flushed a deeper red as she cleared her throat and repeated more clearly, “Yeah.”
Santana smiled crookedly. “I bet I can make you say ‘yeah’ one more time,” she teased.
Brittany pouted. “Are you making fun of me?” she asked defensively.
“I would never,” Santana said, leaning back in her seat, her hand still in Brittany’s. “When have I ever made fun of you?”
“How about every time you spoke to me for the first, like, month of seventh grade?” Brittany shot back with an amused grin. “You called me stupid every day Mrs. Ashton made you sit next to me in the front of the classroom.”
Santana frowned. She had done that, but it felt so long ago. “Yeah, well, I got over that, didn’t I? That doesn’t count.”
“Does, too,” Brittany argued, “You said ‘ever’. It counts. Even if I forgive you for it, because it still happened it is still part of ‘ever’. I win.”
“When have I ever made fun of you that doesn’t include the time when we weren’t even friends?” Santana said again.
Brittany smiled. “Never,” she answered. “Not even once.”
Santana nodded. “Not even once,” she repeated. “So there.”
Brittany grinned. “Good,” she said, “So now we’re both winners. It’s a win-win. And those are good.” She nodded as if to confirm her statement. “I like it.”
“Win-win,” Santana repeated softly, smiling widely. “You know, I missed that about you.”
“Miss what?” Brittany asked, poking at her rice which had long since cooled.
Santana shrugged. “Just... the way you speak. Win-win. I missed that.” She felt her face flush, suddenly self-conscious again. “Whatever,” she mumbled out of the corner of her mouth. “Anyway.”
Brittany giggled, gently tugging on Santana’s hand. “You’re silly,” she said. “And I missed you, too. When do you have to go? Or do you not have anywhere else to be today?”
Santana spared a glance at the clock in the kitchen. “I’m yours,” she said. “I mean, I’ve got nothing going on today. Except playtime for Strawberry.”
Brittany peered under the table at the aforementioned kittens. They looked like one lump of fur, but she counted four ears. She smiled. “Okay, good,” she said, “because they don’t look like they want to be moved.”
“They’ll never want to separate, if we don’t make them.” Santana’s eyes swept across the table. “How about we clean this up and... watch a movie? Let them hang for a little while longer?”
Brittany nodded. “Sounds like a plan. Anything in particular you want to watch?” she asked as she pushed away from the table to clear it. Her fingers awkwardly untangled from Santana’s as she moved to gather up their plates and toss them into the trash.
Santana leaned against the table and watch Brittany clean up. “You didn’t lose your copy of Bring It On, did you?”
Brittany laughed. “Oh, God, that movie is so old,” she said, “Lucky for you, I keep it on the list-y thing on my uWatch. Old movies are just better.” She grabbed Santana’s hand and tugged her into the living room. She plopped down onto her couch beside Santana before flipping through her movie queue to find Bring It On. She clicked select and scooted closer to Santana, hands still connected. “I love this movie,” she whispered as the room darkened and the movie began.
Santana rolled her eyes. “I know you do, dork,” she whispered back, feeling her body sinking against Brittany’s and not having the energy or the will to stop it. “It’s a great movie.”
“Shh!” Brittany hissed as her body shifted against Santana’s, naturally molding itself to fit itself with the other woman. She leaned her head against Santana’s shoulder. “Don’t talk during the movie, San,” Brittany scolded.
Santana squeezed Brittany’s hand gently and smirked. “Okay, okay. No more talking,” she said softly as the opening credits began.
When: Saturday 26 March 2019
Where: B’s apartment
What: Lunches and stuff
Status: Complete
“Thanks for being here,” Brittany said quietly as she fished the take-out boxes from the paper bag. Kitty chased Strawberry around her ankles as she arranged the napkins and chopsticks. “I really needed someone to be here, and Quinn’s busy with the twins and her pregnancy and Emma... I just... felt too much like a hypocrite to tell her.” She sighed and shook her head.
“I just... didn’t expect Dad to suddenly care. Five years of nothing, and suddenly a letter? I don’t know. It’s just... weird,” Brittany rambled.
Santana placed her hand between Brittany’s shoulder blades as she stepped up next to her, pressing gently. “Of course,” she said just as quietly. “It does seem a little weird, but it’s a start, you know?” She reached for the paper bag. “Here, gimme that. I’ll take care of it.” She folded the bag slowly. “So,” she said casually. “Have you read it yet?”
Brittany shook her head. “Not completely,” she admitted, “Just scanned. Every time I start, I get so angry I can’t finish.” She looked down at her feet, watching Kitty look back up at her and blink as though confused at how her owner could be so upset when she was so happy. Kitty returned her attention to Strawberry and Brittany looked back up at Santana. “Maybe I’m a bad person, but I don’t want him to be back. He let us be nonexistent to him for years. Why now? And B really wants to write him back, but I don’t know how.”
“You’re not a bad person, B. And I’m not just saying that,” Santana added quickly. “He let you guys leave without really fighting for you to stay. You’re allowed to be angry. Little B, though,” Santana said, sighing. “I’m sure she doesn’t even realize what writing back to him means. She probably doesn’t even understand what getting a letter from him means.”
“Maybe,” Brittany sighed, opening the containers. “Are you the chicken or am I? I don’t remember. In fact, which one is which?” She looked helplessly at Santana. “I’m so bad at this. All of this. Remembering and stuff. And forgiving.” She paused, aware for a brief moment that her parents weren’t the only people she had yet to forgive. “And... being an adult about things. For B’s sake. I just don’t know how. I can’t even tell Chinese food apart.”
Santana smiled softly. “This one,” she said, popping open the to-go box and peering inside. “This one is yours. And I’m assuming this one is mine,” she finished, pointing at another box. “You’re just distracted right now. You can tell Chinese food apart. I’ve seen you do it hundreds of times.” She turned away from Brittany and opened another to-go box, the word “forgiving” and the way Brittany had said it resonating in her. She knew she had a long way to go, earning Brittany’s forgiveness, but that the blonde had called her made her feel like maybe it wasn’t as far as she had thought.
Brittany nodded. “Distracted,” she echoed. “Anyways, I’m glad you’re here. I hope, uhm, Lola’s not too mad at me for stealing you. But, I mean, Kitty was getting antsy, and, well, it’s just... nice to have you... here.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s just nice to have someone,” she repeated dumbly.
“Strawberry missed Kitty,” Santana said, shrugging it off. “And I’m glad you called. Come on.” She steered Brittany towards her seat and gently pushed her down. “We can eat and talk at the same time, if that’s what you want to do.”
Brittany nodded, smiling softly. “Sorry I’m so useless,” she said, picking at the corner of her table. “I just... haven’t felt so many things at once like this in... a while. There are so many things I don’t know how I feel about and I just feel overloaded.” She twirled her chopsticks in her hand. “I wish things were simpler.”
“You’re anything but useless, B,” Santana argued. She peered into her take-out container and frowned a little. Without thinking, she reached across the table and plucked a piece of spare rib out of B’s container and dropped it into her own container of rice. “It’s... Well, what do you want to feel? If you had to pick one thing, what would it be?”
“Happy,” Brittany answered, not even registering that their sharing of food was supposed to be out of the ordinary or something. “I would be happy. I would be happy that Emma’s got a big job out in Boston. I would be happy that Dad wants a second chance. I would be happy that y-” that you’ve come home engaged. She shook her head, spooning some fried rice into her mouth. “I would be happy.”
Santana paused at Brittany’s aborted sentence but let it pass. “So what’s in the way of you feeling happy?” she asked gently.
“Everything else,” Brittany replied. “Being afraid. Being afraid of being hurt. Of feeling like... of feeling like...” She began picking at her table again. “Of feeling like I’m broken. And I’m just terrified of everything. I’m scared Emma won’t come back and I won’t follow after her. I’m scared Dad will only hurt us more. I’m scared Dad’ll hurt Bree. And I’m mad. I’m mad Dad’s decided now to talk to us. I’m mad he waited five years. I’m mad he never stuck up for us. And I don’t like being mad and scared. It just... it doesn’t feel good.”
Santana leaned forward and dropped her hand on top of Brittany’s, stilling the blonde’s movements. “Why,” she started and swallowed dryly. Why wouldn’t Emma come back? she wanted to ask, but she forced the question down and changed routes. “Of course it doesn’t feel good. Being mad and scared... it’s the one of worst combination of feelings.” She absentmindedly drew small circles on the back of Brittany’s hand. “But B, you’re one of the bravest people I know. And your Dad can’t scare you if you don’t let him. Maybe he wrote about why he never said anything, or stuck up for you. I mean, you only scanned it, right? Maybe he explained things.”
An all too familiar calmness swept over Brittany, each stroke of Santana’s thumb like counter currents blocking out her need to scream. “I don’t know, S,” she said quietly, “sometimes I think that’ll be even worse. You know, if he tries to act like he had an excuse for the years he didn’t say anything to Mom. Like I’m supposed to go running back to him just because he’s my dad. Like I’m supposed to let Bree go running back to him just because he’s our dad. He could’ve helped. He always could’ve. But he didn’t. And I just... I don’t know how to forgive him.” She met Santana’s eyes. “How do you forgive someone who broke you? Just splintered you up like spare wood? How do you know they’re not just coming back for more?”
Santana paused, her thumb stopping mid-circle. She had done that to Brittany too - from everything she had been told by Rachel and Quinn and everything she saw when she looked at Brittany, she had done the same thing. Maybe even worse. “I think,” she said quietly, “that you just have to believe they won’t. That they know what they did wrong and they’re just trying to fix it.”
Once Santana’s thumb stopped moving, it was like a switch had been flipped off and Brittany found herself acutely aware of the thick, awkward silence filling her kitchen and the burning heat emanating from where their hands were still touching. Brittany chewed her lower lip before responding. “And what if I forgive him? What if I let him come back and he still doesn’t know what to do? Maybe he means to make right now, but what if he doesn’t know how or if he screws it up? This is more than just me, S. I don’t know how to be okay if I let him come back and he hurts B.”
“You remember,” Santana started, scooting her chair a little closer and moving her thumb in circles again. “You remember how I told you that Little B would be okay, because she has you? He won’t hurt her because you won’t let her. I know you would never let anything hurt her. She knows it. You know it. And if you never give him the chance, he’ll never hurt you, but... But if you give him a chance... maybe he won’t.”
Brittany nodded and sighed softly. “I do miss him,” she admitted quietly, “I miss him a lot. Especially at the holidays and on B’s birthday. I miss Mom, too. I miss my parents. I miss being a family. Sometimes I... I wonder if everything’s changed too much, though. I worry that not enough has changed. I don’t know, S. Part of me just doesn’t think this feels right, and part of me thinks it’s what we need, and I don’t know which part of me I’m supposed to listen to. I don’t know which part of me I trust more.”
Santana shrugged. “I think you’re supposed to trust whichever one this is telling you to do,” she said, tapping her chest over where her heart was.
“But that’s the thing,” Brittany answered, “it’s got two totally different directions.” She shook her head. “I’ve already told B to go ahead and write back, anyways. I just... don’t know if I did the right thing. And if he wants to really see us, I don’t know if I’ll want to go. I don’t know if I’m supposed to want to go. I just don’t know.”
“Little B is a big girl. Well, she’s not. She’s little, but you know what I mean. And you are doing so, so well taking care of her. And letting her make her own decision might be something she needs to do? Maybe if you let her make her own decision, you can make yours a little easier?” Santana suggested slowly.
Brittany shrugged. “I guess,” she sighed. She laughed softly. “You’d think five years would be enough time to make a decision, and here I am without a clue what to do. But I was always kind of slow, right?”
Santana sat up straight abruptly. “You’re not slow,” she said firmly. “No one would know what to do, no matter who they are. You’re not slow.”
Brittany smiled lightly. “Thanks,” she said quietly. “What do you think I should do? What would you do if you were me?”
“I don’t know,” Santana said, sighing. “If I were you... I wouldn’t want to miss out on my parents, I don’t think.”
Brittany nodded. “Yeah,” she said, letting out a deep breath. “Tell me something happy. Anything.”
Santana frowned for a minute, thinking. “Oh,” she said after a minute. “It’s kind of happy, I think. Finn and I are drinking buddies. Like, we’re gonna go out and drink. Together. On a regular basis.” She frowned again. “Actually, I think that’s more weird than happy.”
Brittany chuckled. “Well, that’s good. Friends are always good,” she grinned. “Finn’s been so great with Abby. He really stepped up when Puck left. It’s good to hear he’s got more friends.”
“And what about me?” Santana asked, faking disbelief. “Isn’t it great that I have more friends. That I’m friends with Finn, of all people?”
Brittany laughed. “Sure, sure, sure,” she teased, “I’m glad someone else is willing to put up with you, too.” She smiled. “Really, though. I’m glad you guys can be friends now. He’s really nice, and sometimes he’s a lot cooler than we thought he was in high school.”
“The three of us should go sometime,” Santana said. “Try and redo that awful attempt at the three of us going to Breadstix.” She smiled crookedly. “But you’re right. He’s not terrible, I guess. Though, for someone so... big, he kind of drinks like a chick. I mean, I drank him under the table when we first went out.”
Brittany laughed again, a wide smile spreading across her face. “You’ve just had more practice,” she teased. “But Breadstix sounds fun. Just that this time, we’d all be going as friends. Which could be a lot more fun since last time was... bad. We could try and be nicer this time, since now we actually like him.”
As friends echoed dully in Santana’s head but she smiled anyway. “Not too nice. I wouldn’t want him thinking he’s hot stuff or anything. Gotta keep that boy in check. Anyway.” She shook her head and met Brittany’s eyes. “You tell me something happy. Go.”
“I finally met the Berry twins and they are so cute,” Brittany replied brightly. “They just might be the cutest little babies I’ve ever seen ever.”
Santana’s grin stretched wider. “Aren’t they? Isn’t Olivia the cutest thing? She’s Mini Me,” she boasted. “And Benji... he’s going to break hearts, I can already tell. But Mini Me is the prettiest girl I’ve ever met. She’s just so little and cute and perfect and she’s going to be awesome when she grows up.”
“Oh, she’s a mini you, huh?” Brittany laughed. “She is adorable and cute and wonderful, so I guess that works, right? Both of those babies are going to be such gorgeous little children. I wish they could talk already. I can’t wait to have Olive in my dance classes. She’s going to be really good. I can tell.”
“Of course she’s going to be good. She’s a mini me,” Santana said. “I love hanging out with them. I know they’re just babies, but they’re so much fun. And I think they can, like, hear me. Because I was telling Olivia about me and she kept gurgling.” Santana shrugged. “Then again, she might have just been gassy.”
Brittany giggled. “Oh, I remember your dancing skills leaving something to be desired the last time,” Brittany joked, “so I’m hoping Olive’s dancing isn’t going to be like yours. They were sleeping when I went to go see them. I wish I could’ve heard her gurgle. I bet it was really cute. She’s superly super cute.”
Santana laughed. “Superly super cute? It was definitely something close to that. You wait, though. I’m gonna make sure she’s just like me. Quinn will be so pissed. It’ll be awesome.”
Brittany grinned. “Don’t do that,” Brittany warned half jokingly, “You know how it is. When Quinn’s mad, everyone loses. Besides, she could never be exactly like you. She’s got Rachel in her. It’d never happen.”
“Well, ruin all my fun, why don’t you,” Santana pouted. She thought about making a stupid joke, something like: Well, Rachel had a little of me in her too, so there’s hope but something told her it wouldn’t sound that funny out loud so she swallowed the thought back. “At least I have Strawberry,” she said instead.
Brittany smiled, a blush creeping up her neck as Santana continued to make a face that would always make her heart skip a beat. “Well, I don’t think Strawberry’s going to be around much longer either. Those two look like they might just run away and elope,” she said nodding toward the kittens still rubbing their heads against one another like the week and a half they’d spent apart had been some sort of eternity.
Santana twirled a chopstick with her free hand. “Yeah, well, we better be the witnesses if that’s what happens. Though, Strawberry should know, I don’t approve of running off and getting married if she doesn’t have a firm financial future.” She looked down and stared pointedly at her kitten. Strawberry merely looked up and blinked at her. “Yeah, you heard me, punk.”
Brittany laughed and smacked Santana lightly. “Be nice to your kitten,” she scolded before turning to Kitty. “If you’re happy, I’m happy,” she said to her kitten. “But no running away, please. I like you and Cat does, too. And we’d miss you a lot.” Kitty ignored her, too busy nuzzling Strawberry. Brittany sighed. “Well, what’re you gonna do?”
“Financially stable,” Santana repeated sternly. She smiled at Brittany. “They won’t run away. Face the wrath of Cat? I don’t think so.”
Brittany grinned. “Well, good. I’d miss them if they did,” Brittany replied with a laugh. She leaned down to scratch Kitty behind her ear, but the kitten shook her off. She chuckled. “Okay, okay,” she murmured, “I’ll let you two be.”
“Man,” Santana said, shaking her head. “That was kind of rude. Watch and learn.” She bent forward and beckoned Strawberry closer. The kitten sneezed and backed away, nuzzling into Kitty’s side. Santana sat back up stiffly. “Well. Fine then, missy. I’ll remember that next time you want to spend the night snugly in my shoe.”
Brittany laughed. “Mmhmm,” she smiled, “Santana Lopez, you have a much better way with our kittens than I do.”
Santana glared playfully at Brittany. “I know you’re being sarcastic, but I choose to take that as a compliment.” She smiled widely and stabbed a piece of quickly-cooling spare rib from Brittany’s take-out box. “And you’re just going to have to deal with that.”
Brittany chortled. “Yeah, sure,” she responded, suppressing a giggle. “It’s going to be very emotionally draining, but I guess I’ll just have to learn to manage with the weight of it all.”
“Again with the sarcasm,” Santana said, clucking her tongue. “You better knock it off, Mouth.”
Brittany blinked. “Wait, who’s Mouth? Are you talking to my mouth? That’s kind of weird, San,” she said, raising her eyebrow curiously.
“You. You’re the mouth. You’re being mouthy,” Santana said, lifting an eyebrow back at Brittany. “And I said to knock it off, mouthy.”
“Oh,” Brittany said quietly, “sorry.” She sucked her lips inside her mouth and grinned. “Better?” she gargled.
Santana’s jaw dropped a little. “Smartass,” she muttered under her breath. “You think you’re so damn cute, don’t you?”
“I know so,” Brittany replied smugly, picking up one of her ribs and taking a bite.
Santana made a face and went to lift her hand, only to realize it was still tangled in Brittany’s. She thought about it and decided to leave it, just for another minute and twirled a lo mien noodle around her chopstick. “This is better than I remember it being.”
Brittany smiled. “Yeah,” she grinned, “it is. Though, I don’t think I ever remembered it as being bad.”
“No,” Santana said, smiling. “It wasn’t ever bad. It’s just as good. And a little better.”
“Is it really better, though?” Brittany mused, “Maybe we just don’t remember it as good as it really was. Maybe it’s really just the same.”
“Maybe,” Santana echoed. “Maybe I just forgot for a minute.” She tilted her head to the side. “Ah. Now I remember.”
Brittany raised her eyebrow. “What do you remember?”
“That is was good,” Santana said, smiling a little.
“Oh,” Brittany replied. “I don’t know. I guess that’s just something I don’t know how to forget.”
Santana picked at a spare rib. “Me either,” she admitted quietly. She peered down at the kittens on the floor and glanced back up at Brittany. “Hey, Britney Spears came on the radio during the drive over. Made me think of you.”
“Oh,” Brittany shrugged, picking at her food. “I thought she died or something. Unless it was a rerun.”
Santana frowned at the change in Brittany’s mood. “It was the radio. Half the people on there are dead. Plus, it was an oldies station. So... it was a good song. We sang it better, obviously,” she said, ducking her head and trying to catch Brittany’s eye. She squeezed Brittany’s hand gently.
Brittany nodded, trying to ignore the way her heart skipped a beat when Santana squeezed her hand. She gave her a half-hearted smile. “Of course we did,” she replied, “We were awesome. Awesome singers.”
“I bet we’re still pretty awesome,” Santana said. A half-smile was better nothing, she figured. Still, she wanted that smile back, the one that made her smile back no matter what her mood was. “We could outsing Rachel, I bet.”
Brittany laughed softly. “I’m going to tell Rachel you said that, and she’s going to flay you alive,” she joked.
Santana waggled her eyebrows at Brittany. “Not if I make sure that I always keep you in front of me. Plus, I think I can run faster than her. But you’re my first line of defense. As long as I’ve got you, she wouldn’t try anything.”
Brittany rolled her eyes, but smiled. “Yeah? That so? You’re lucky I don’t want you dead, then, I guess.”
“You wouldn’t...” Santana trailed off. “You wouldn’t let her hurt me, would you? Because,” she lowered her voice. “She kind of scares me sometimes. She gets this look in her eye and it’s just like... I feel the need to turn and run in the opposite direction.”
“I might let her get one good one in,” Brittany said humorously, giggling when Santana’s face dropped. “I’m kidding, San. I’ll protect you. Promise.”
Santana leaned back in her seat. “Uh huh. Sure. I see how it is. I’ll just have to keep one eye on her and one eye making sure you’re not going to just up and turn on me.”
Brittany laughed, tugging on Santana’s hand lightly. “Aww, I was just kidding, San,” she promised, “I’ll protect you from Rachel. I lo- I’ll, uh, protect you.” She swallowed hard, awkwardly turning her head. It had been too much of a habit. Banter would happen, and she’d fall right in. But she wasn’t allowed to fall back in right now. Couldn’t fall back in. She turned her head back. “I won’t turn on you. Really.”
“I know you won’t, B,” Santana said softly. This time, she looked away, focusing on the kittens rolling around on the ground, purring at each other. She wanted to know what Brittany was going to say, but a part of her already knew and that ache in her chest, the one she had told Rachel about, flared up again. She was being unfair, sitting here with Brittany’s hand in hers, joking around like she didn’t do anything wrong or hurt Brittany the way she had. You’re such a bitch, a voice in the back of her head whispered. Santana clenched her jaw and started pulling her hand away from Brittany’s, eyes still watching Strawberry tumble across the room.
Brittany felt Santana begin to pull away, and before she could stop herself, she tugged it back. “Hey,” she said softly, trying to catch Santana’s eye, “I’m...” She chewed her lip for a moment before deciding to give her a gift, a tiny piece of her, so that maybe she wouldn’t look so upset. “I’m really glad you’re home, that you’re back,” she finished.
Santana lifted her head a little and gave Brittany a smile that faded quickly. “So am I,” she said quietly. “I missed it here,” she admitted. “I missed it a lot.”
Brittany ran her thumb over Santana’s knuckle and smiled lightly. “So then don’t go disappearing again. Besides, if you do, our kittens will commit pesticide, and I don’t want to be held accountable for that kind of thing,” she replied.
“Pesticide,” Santana repeated slowly. Getting used to the way Brittany used words was hard when she was younger but as she grew older it became second nature. She was a little rusty, but she said the word in her head a few times before giving Brittany a slow smile as she figured it out. “They’ll commit homicide, huh? I can see the headline now: Killer Kittens, Wanted. And when they can’t find them, they’ll definitely take you.”
“Exactly,” Brittany sighed. “So, don’t make that happen. I don’t think I’ll last in the Big House.” She felt Strawberry bump against her foot and smiled, leaning down briefly to stroke the kitten’s ear. “Plus, I don’t think I can handle you getting killed. Especially by our kittens.”
Santana squeezed Brittany’s hand gently and smiled crookedly at her. “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”
Brittany felt blood rush to her cheeks, so she tried to keep her face turned toward their kittens. “That’s good,” she replied somewhat awkwardly, biting back the inevitable smile spreading across her face.
“Yeah?” Santana couldn’t stop herself from making her statement sound like a question and she felt her face flush.
“Yeah,” Brittany answered, her voice cracking as she answered. Her face flushed a deeper red as she cleared her throat and repeated more clearly, “Yeah.”
Santana smiled crookedly. “I bet I can make you say ‘yeah’ one more time,” she teased.
Brittany pouted. “Are you making fun of me?” she asked defensively.
“I would never,” Santana said, leaning back in her seat, her hand still in Brittany’s. “When have I ever made fun of you?”
“How about every time you spoke to me for the first, like, month of seventh grade?” Brittany shot back with an amused grin. “You called me stupid every day Mrs. Ashton made you sit next to me in the front of the classroom.”
Santana frowned. She had done that, but it felt so long ago. “Yeah, well, I got over that, didn’t I? That doesn’t count.”
“Does, too,” Brittany argued, “You said ‘ever’. It counts. Even if I forgive you for it, because it still happened it is still part of ‘ever’. I win.”
“When have I ever made fun of you that doesn’t include the time when we weren’t even friends?” Santana said again.
Brittany smiled. “Never,” she answered. “Not even once.”
Santana nodded. “Not even once,” she repeated. “So there.”
Brittany grinned. “Good,” she said, “So now we’re both winners. It’s a win-win. And those are good.” She nodded as if to confirm her statement. “I like it.”
“Win-win,” Santana repeated softly, smiling widely. “You know, I missed that about you.”
“Miss what?” Brittany asked, poking at her rice which had long since cooled.
Santana shrugged. “Just... the way you speak. Win-win. I missed that.” She felt her face flush, suddenly self-conscious again. “Whatever,” she mumbled out of the corner of her mouth. “Anyway.”
Brittany giggled, gently tugging on Santana’s hand. “You’re silly,” she said. “And I missed you, too. When do you have to go? Or do you not have anywhere else to be today?”
Santana spared a glance at the clock in the kitchen. “I’m yours,” she said. “I mean, I’ve got nothing going on today. Except playtime for Strawberry.”
Brittany peered under the table at the aforementioned kittens. They looked like one lump of fur, but she counted four ears. She smiled. “Okay, good,” she said, “because they don’t look like they want to be moved.”
“They’ll never want to separate, if we don’t make them.” Santana’s eyes swept across the table. “How about we clean this up and... watch a movie? Let them hang for a little while longer?”
Brittany nodded. “Sounds like a plan. Anything in particular you want to watch?” she asked as she pushed away from the table to clear it. Her fingers awkwardly untangled from Santana’s as she moved to gather up their plates and toss them into the trash.
Santana leaned against the table and watch Brittany clean up. “You didn’t lose your copy of Bring It On, did you?”
Brittany laughed. “Oh, God, that movie is so old,” she said, “Lucky for you, I keep it on the list-y thing on my uWatch. Old movies are just better.” She grabbed Santana’s hand and tugged her into the living room. She plopped down onto her couch beside Santana before flipping through her movie queue to find Bring It On. She clicked select and scooted closer to Santana, hands still connected. “I love this movie,” she whispered as the room darkened and the movie began.
Santana rolled her eyes. “I know you do, dork,” she whispered back, feeling her body sinking against Brittany’s and not having the energy or the will to stop it. “It’s a great movie.”
“Shh!” Brittany hissed as her body shifted against Santana’s, naturally molding itself to fit itself with the other woman. She leaned her head against Santana’s shoulder. “Don’t talk during the movie, San,” Brittany scolded.
Santana squeezed Brittany’s hand gently and smirked. “Okay, okay. No more talking,” she said softly as the opening credits began.