second best - part one
Title: Second Best
Author:
kalexico
Pairing, Character(s): Quinn Fabray, Santana Lopez, Brittany Pierce
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1556
Summary: Filled for this prompt at the
glee_angst_meme : Brittany isn't a natural blonde, she dyed her hair so Santana would look at her the way she's always looked at Quinn.
______________
You know that people think you’re stupid.
You know that if you weren’t a brunette, people would eagerly stamp you as a dumb blonde.
You don’t necessarily agree, but you’ve long since given up trying to disagree with them or prove them otherwise. The truth is, you don’t really care what people think about you anymore. You don’t understand why you should - it’s your life after all and as long as the people you love treat you well, you’re fine.
Not everyone can be like Santana. Not everyone can understand that you’re not dumb or stupid, but that your brain just works in a different way. That won’t change, no matter how many doctors or psychologists you see.
You love Santana.
Santana has a tough exterior, but you know that the reality is that she’s just so scared that someone will see right through her that she bites before she can get bitten. You feel proud to know the Santana inside. The Santana inside is fiercely loyal and protective, a bit of a history nerd, funny and intelligent and although she’d sooner kill herself than admit it, also kind of sweet. You wish she’d show this side more to people. The side of her that is capable of feeling such overwhelming love it makes her act like a middle schooler with a crush.
Something feels funny in your chest each time you are reminded that that love isn’t directed at you, but at her. No matter how many times you kiss Santana, no matter how many orgasms you give her, it will always be her - Quinn Fabray.
You see the way she looks at Quinn. That longing in her eyes, so deep that it pains you as well. You would do anything to take it away, to make her see that if Quinn doesn’t love her back she’s an idiot, that she deserves better than to pine after a girl that she may well never get. Because, let’s face it, even on the off chance that Quinn is gay, hell will freeze over before she will give in to those feelings.
You see the anger in her eyes when Quinn is walking around with some guy on her arm, looking happy as ever. You’ll never forget how empty her eyes were when she heard the news that Quinn was pregnant. You’ll never forget that she closed herself into her bedroom for a week and cried. You’ll never forget the pure and utter hatred in her eyes whenever she saw Puck, because with that impeccable intuition of hers, she always knew it couldn’t be Finn’s. You’ll never forget how she kept on hitting and kicking him left, right and center, even though her knuckles were bleeding. You’ll never forget the tears streaming down her face.
You wish she’d use that intuition to pick up on your feelings.
You’re scared to tell her, because you’ll take anything you can get from her. Right now, that means making out and sex. You’re scared that, if she knows how strongly you love her, she’ll want to stop it. You don’t think you can do without the touch of her soft skin, the brush of her lips against yours, the flick of her tongue where you need it the most. You simply don’t think you can do without her. Even though she always avoids to look you in the eye as she comes. Even though she moans Quinn’s name as she comes.
You sometimes wonder how some people can call you stupid, but not see that look in Santana’s eyes every time she sees Quinn. That mix of happiness, adoration, pure longing. You wonder how it is that nobody knows, nobody even suspects.
It makes you angry sometimes, that Santana can’t seem to get Quinn out of her head. You think to yourself that after all these years, Santana must have figured that it wasn’t going to happen, so why couldn’t she let go?
But then a taunting voice asks you the same question. Santana will obviously always love Quinn, so why can’t you let Santana go? Why can’t you move on? Why would you rather settle to be her second choice than to be anyone else’s first?
Because you love her.
And Santana can’t let go because she loves Quinn, despite all the utter crap the Head Cheerio pulls. Quinn has hurt Santana over and over again, has ratted her out, betrayed her, stomped on her heart - but she only has to utter a soft “I’m sorry”, she only has to touch Santana’s arm and look her in the eye and give her a small, guilty smile and Santana crumbles. Santana just crumbles, accepts the apology and continues pining.
Quinn knows how Santana feels, and she uses it. You’ve tried to tell Santana, but she brushes it off, says it’s not true. She won’t believe you. She won’t believe that Quinn is fully aware of the longing looks, the lustful stares. That Quinn sometimes shakes it up a little because she knows that it drives Santana crazy. Santana refuses to see the devious smirk that accompanies it. She refuses to see that that hint of cleavage and collarbone is nothing but a way to taunt Santana and boost her own self esteem.
It’s crazy, the things Santana would do for Quinn. But then it’s also crazy, the things you would do for Santana.
One day, you see that look in her eyes again. Quinn has closed her locker, given a small wave to the both of you and turned around. Once again, Santana is looking at her as if she’s the only person on this Earth that will ever matter to her.
Later that same day, as you inspect your hair in the mirror you keep in your locker, you take a decision. It’s the last time you see your hair brown.
It’s rash and maybe even a bit foolish, but you find yourself at the hairdresser’s anyway and you voice the thought out loud for the first time.
“I want to be a blonde.”
The hairdresser cocks an eyebrow, shrugs and gets to work.
You just want her to look at you the way she looks at Quinn Fabray. Maybe if you look like her enough, the resemblance will strike Santana and maybe that will be enough. You even buy hazel contacts to go with them.
The next day, your heart beats faster than ever in your chest as you approach your locker. Not everybody seems to recognize you and when Santana turns the corner, she scowls as well. It’s only when you’re facing each other that Santana’s scowl changes to a look of surprise.
“Britt! What did you do?”
You smile brightly, hopefully. “I decided I wanted a change. Do you like it?”
“I… wow, it’s… different,” she stutters. Then she smiles, friendly. “Yeah, it’s nice. I guess yesterday changed a lot for the both of us, then.”
“What do you mean?” you ask, confused. You don’t like where this is going, but you decide to wait it out. Maybe she realized that she loves you after all? You immediately chastise yourself - you’ve taught yourself long ago to not hope such things.
She beams in pure and utter happiness. You’ve never seen her this happy before and you feel your heart sink.
“Quinn kissed me last night,” she grins excitedly, not even bothering to look around if anyone heard her.
You figure that it’s probably pointless to remind Santana of the fact that you told her you heard Coach Sylvester say that she would make Santana Captain of the Cheerios if Quinn didn’t step up her game. That the both of you know that all the other Cheerios are too scared of Quinn to try and beat her to the top, and that they’re frankly also inexperienced. That Santana is the only threat to Quinn.
Your heart throbs when you see them secretly hold hands in the car, steal a kiss after Glee club when the others are gone. When Santana tells you about the first time they made love - because that’s how she phrases it - and how it was the best she has ever had (despite the fact that Quinn has never been with a girl before and her only experience with a boy is Puck).
You cry yourself to sleep when you think about the happiness in Santana’s eyes, her eagerness to swallow any story Quinn feeds her about how they have to be careful that nobody finds out because it would cost them their much desired status. That Liam, the new hot football player, is only a beard.
Your blonde hair doesn’t matter. The hazel contacts you bought don’t matter. No matter how hard you try, you will never be Quinn Fabray for her.
You almost feel numb when you realize that Santana genuinely believes that their stolen moments, their secretive kisses, the sneaky sex, is an actual relationship.
It breaks your heart when you realize that Santana genuinely believes that Quinn loves her and wants to be with her, and that she’ll never buy it if you tell her that she doesn’t.
You don’t think you can breathe when it hits you that Santana will always chose Quinn Fabray over you and that even if Quinn would shatter her world, that still wouldn’t change.
But still, you can’t help it. Before you go to sleep every night, your shaking hands hold the phrame of the picture of the two of you. You carress her cheek and mutter: “I love you” through your tears.
>> next
Author:
kalexico
Pairing, Character(s): Quinn Fabray, Santana Lopez, Brittany Pierce
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1556
Summary: Filled for this prompt at the
glee_angst_meme : Brittany isn't a natural blonde, she dyed her hair so Santana would look at her the way she's always looked at Quinn.
______________
You know that people think you’re stupid.
You know that if you weren’t a brunette, people would eagerly stamp you as a dumb blonde.
You don’t necessarily agree, but you’ve long since given up trying to disagree with them or prove them otherwise. The truth is, you don’t really care what people think about you anymore. You don’t understand why you should - it’s your life after all and as long as the people you love treat you well, you’re fine.
Not everyone can be like Santana. Not everyone can understand that you’re not dumb or stupid, but that your brain just works in a different way. That won’t change, no matter how many doctors or psychologists you see.
You love Santana.
Santana has a tough exterior, but you know that the reality is that she’s just so scared that someone will see right through her that she bites before she can get bitten. You feel proud to know the Santana inside. The Santana inside is fiercely loyal and protective, a bit of a history nerd, funny and intelligent and although she’d sooner kill herself than admit it, also kind of sweet. You wish she’d show this side more to people. The side of her that is capable of feeling such overwhelming love it makes her act like a middle schooler with a crush.
Something feels funny in your chest each time you are reminded that that love isn’t directed at you, but at her. No matter how many times you kiss Santana, no matter how many orgasms you give her, it will always be her - Quinn Fabray.
You see the way she looks at Quinn. That longing in her eyes, so deep that it pains you as well. You would do anything to take it away, to make her see that if Quinn doesn’t love her back she’s an idiot, that she deserves better than to pine after a girl that she may well never get. Because, let’s face it, even on the off chance that Quinn is gay, hell will freeze over before she will give in to those feelings.
You see the anger in her eyes when Quinn is walking around with some guy on her arm, looking happy as ever. You’ll never forget how empty her eyes were when she heard the news that Quinn was pregnant. You’ll never forget that she closed herself into her bedroom for a week and cried. You’ll never forget the pure and utter hatred in her eyes whenever she saw Puck, because with that impeccable intuition of hers, she always knew it couldn’t be Finn’s. You’ll never forget how she kept on hitting and kicking him left, right and center, even though her knuckles were bleeding. You’ll never forget the tears streaming down her face.
You wish she’d use that intuition to pick up on your feelings.
You’re scared to tell her, because you’ll take anything you can get from her. Right now, that means making out and sex. You’re scared that, if she knows how strongly you love her, she’ll want to stop it. You don’t think you can do without the touch of her soft skin, the brush of her lips against yours, the flick of her tongue where you need it the most. You simply don’t think you can do without her. Even though she always avoids to look you in the eye as she comes. Even though she moans Quinn’s name as she comes.
You sometimes wonder how some people can call you stupid, but not see that look in Santana’s eyes every time she sees Quinn. That mix of happiness, adoration, pure longing. You wonder how it is that nobody knows, nobody even suspects.
It makes you angry sometimes, that Santana can’t seem to get Quinn out of her head. You think to yourself that after all these years, Santana must have figured that it wasn’t going to happen, so why couldn’t she let go?
But then a taunting voice asks you the same question. Santana will obviously always love Quinn, so why can’t you let Santana go? Why can’t you move on? Why would you rather settle to be her second choice than to be anyone else’s first?
Because you love her.
And Santana can’t let go because she loves Quinn, despite all the utter crap the Head Cheerio pulls. Quinn has hurt Santana over and over again, has ratted her out, betrayed her, stomped on her heart - but she only has to utter a soft “I’m sorry”, she only has to touch Santana’s arm and look her in the eye and give her a small, guilty smile and Santana crumbles. Santana just crumbles, accepts the apology and continues pining.
Quinn knows how Santana feels, and she uses it. You’ve tried to tell Santana, but she brushes it off, says it’s not true. She won’t believe you. She won’t believe that Quinn is fully aware of the longing looks, the lustful stares. That Quinn sometimes shakes it up a little because she knows that it drives Santana crazy. Santana refuses to see the devious smirk that accompanies it. She refuses to see that that hint of cleavage and collarbone is nothing but a way to taunt Santana and boost her own self esteem.
It’s crazy, the things Santana would do for Quinn. But then it’s also crazy, the things you would do for Santana.
One day, you see that look in her eyes again. Quinn has closed her locker, given a small wave to the both of you and turned around. Once again, Santana is looking at her as if she’s the only person on this Earth that will ever matter to her.
Later that same day, as you inspect your hair in the mirror you keep in your locker, you take a decision. It’s the last time you see your hair brown.
It’s rash and maybe even a bit foolish, but you find yourself at the hairdresser’s anyway and you voice the thought out loud for the first time.
“I want to be a blonde.”
The hairdresser cocks an eyebrow, shrugs and gets to work.
You just want her to look at you the way she looks at Quinn Fabray. Maybe if you look like her enough, the resemblance will strike Santana and maybe that will be enough. You even buy hazel contacts to go with them.
The next day, your heart beats faster than ever in your chest as you approach your locker. Not everybody seems to recognize you and when Santana turns the corner, she scowls as well. It’s only when you’re facing each other that Santana’s scowl changes to a look of surprise.
“Britt! What did you do?”
You smile brightly, hopefully. “I decided I wanted a change. Do you like it?”
“I… wow, it’s… different,” she stutters. Then she smiles, friendly. “Yeah, it’s nice. I guess yesterday changed a lot for the both of us, then.”
“What do you mean?” you ask, confused. You don’t like where this is going, but you decide to wait it out. Maybe she realized that she loves you after all? You immediately chastise yourself - you’ve taught yourself long ago to not hope such things.
She beams in pure and utter happiness. You’ve never seen her this happy before and you feel your heart sink.
“Quinn kissed me last night,” she grins excitedly, not even bothering to look around if anyone heard her.
You figure that it’s probably pointless to remind Santana of the fact that you told her you heard Coach Sylvester say that she would make Santana Captain of the Cheerios if Quinn didn’t step up her game. That the both of you know that all the other Cheerios are too scared of Quinn to try and beat her to the top, and that they’re frankly also inexperienced. That Santana is the only threat to Quinn.
Your heart throbs when you see them secretly hold hands in the car, steal a kiss after Glee club when the others are gone. When Santana tells you about the first time they made love - because that’s how she phrases it - and how it was the best she has ever had (despite the fact that Quinn has never been with a girl before and her only experience with a boy is Puck).
You cry yourself to sleep when you think about the happiness in Santana’s eyes, her eagerness to swallow any story Quinn feeds her about how they have to be careful that nobody finds out because it would cost them their much desired status. That Liam, the new hot football player, is only a beard.
Your blonde hair doesn’t matter. The hazel contacts you bought don’t matter. No matter how hard you try, you will never be Quinn Fabray for her.
You almost feel numb when you realize that Santana genuinely believes that their stolen moments, their secretive kisses, the sneaky sex, is an actual relationship.
It breaks your heart when you realize that Santana genuinely believes that Quinn loves her and wants to be with her, and that she’ll never buy it if you tell her that she doesn’t.
You don’t think you can breathe when it hits you that Santana will always chose Quinn Fabray over you and that even if Quinn would shatter her world, that still wouldn’t change.
But still, you can’t help it. Before you go to sleep every night, your shaking hands hold the phrame of the picture of the two of you. You carress her cheek and mutter: “I love you” through your tears.
>> next