second best - part three (end)

Aug 26, 2011 00:23


Title: Second Best 
Author: 
kalexico
Pairing, Character(s): Quinn Fabray, Santana Lopez, Brittany Pierce
Rating: PG-13 
Word Count: 2421
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.

________

part one, part two


You remember meeting Santana Lopez.

One day, when you were five, your father started taking you on walks through the park around the time your mother would come home. You thought it was because your mother talked too much. You didn't understand that she didn't know that your father liked silence more than noise. He'd made it clear to you time and time again, so surely your mother should have known after having been together with him for that long?

You remember seeing a group of boys playing soccer and being surprised when you noticed that one of them was a girl. You tried not to look at her. You'd been taught that staring is impolite, so you looked from the corner of your eyes.

The first few times, her face and her clothes were dirty. You didn't mind. She fascinated you. You'd never met a girl who played soccer. You were sure that your parents wouldn't have allowed it if it were you - the boyish clothes, the dirt, the wildness of it all. You knew that she looked at you and it made you blush a little that a special girl like her would notice you. At first, she was running around when you walked by. Over time, she already expected you and she was on the look-out. Her clothes were less and less dirty.

One day, you couldn't help yourself. You turned your head and you looked at her. You tried to smile, but you hadn't had much practice in your short life. Your parents always told you to get a grip on yourself when you smiled too much or laughed too loudly.

Another day, and again you couldn't stop yourself. You had to talk to this girl. You tried to find a reason for going to her, to sell the story to your father. To your surprise, he sighed in defeat and nudged you, his eyes conveying his message: just go to her.

You felt nervous when you first talked to her. She simply wasn't anything like any of your friends. She simply wasn't anything like you.

"Hi, I'm Quinn Fabray."

She didn't answer you and you wondered if you did anything wrong - or if anything was wrong with her. An older guy introduced her as Santana Lopez. You cocked your head, a curious smile on your face, but then your father called you back. You waved at her and ran back to him.

Over the next couple of years, you got to know her better. You've never been stupid and you figured out soon enough that she liked you the way you were supposed to like boys. She was always looking at you and trying to make you laugh. She always defended you, even if there really was no reason to. She'd always agree to do whatever you wanted. She always did everything you asked her to do.

It made you feel good about yourself. You loved the kind of power you had over her. It was just so fascinating to know that you only had to snap your finger and your wish would be her command. You remember testing this for fun sometimes, when you were bored and you would see to what lengths she'd go for you.

She let you have all the covers in the bed on sleepovers, even though you didn't need them and you knew that she was cold. And you did feel bad about it, a little bit, so you ended up lying really close to her.

You told her you had an intense craving for candy even though you knew she had just spent the last of her pocket money on your friendship bracelets. She stole five dollars from her parents.

You asked her to jump into the pool even though you knew that she was afraid of water. She did it, for you. She never questioned why you would even ask that of her.

In a strange, perverse way, you loved her for all of it. But you'd been brought up not to be affectionate with anyone, so you let yourself fall over the border of the patio so that she would hold you in her arms and let you cry on her shoulder. She never knew what you were really crying for.

You know you're not a good person, you've always known. The thing is, you never really knew that was expected of you. Your parents taught you that it was important to uphold a perfect image. Nobody was allowed to see any kind of flaws. It was also important to keep enemies close - just as important as trying to influence (manipulate, really) people to do what you want them to do. Having power over other people and using it to your benefit, deceit and the image of perfection were the core values of your upbringing. Always pretend, never care. Don't get emotionally attached. Keep your best interests at heart.

You never realized how fucked up that was until you met Brittany Pierce.

Santana introduced her to you, reluctantly. She probably wanted to keep you to herself. She was impossible whenever you spent too much time with others. She would cry for hours if you told her you'd talked to a really nice guy or girl and had planned a playdate with them.

But Brittany... she had you from the first moment.

Brittany was everything that you were not and never would be. Brittany Pierce was pure, sweet, innocent, herself. She was not afraid to be who she was, even if people thought she was stupid. She had the brightest smile and didn't have any prejudices at all.

Over the years, she grew up and turned into such a beautiful and sexy young girl. You can watch her dance for hours on end and not be bored. She's so humble and kind. She's so helpful, so open, so incredibly light-hearted.

You want her. You want to be with her. You want her to hold you, comfort you, tell you that you're not a bad person. You want to kiss her. You want to run off with her. You want her to redeem you. You want to touch her, explore her, bask yourself in her.

You know that Santana is always looking at you, but you only have eyes for Brittany.

Santana follows your every move and you know it. She wants you. It kind of gives your self esteem a boost, but it's not enough to compensate the hurt you feel over not being able to be with Brittany. You know you don't deserve her anyway, but still.

Santana looks at you like she could eat you. She's complex, intense. She's not as open anymore as she was back when she was a child. She's always there. Sometimes it scares you how her eyes burn through you.

You wish Brittany would look at you like that.

Sometimes, you shake it up a little, hoping that Brittany will notice you. Sometimes, you wear that shirt that leaves a hint of collarbone and cleavage, hoping to work on her hormones. But she only looks at Santana.

It kills you.

You have to keep Santana as your friend, though. Keep your enemies close, she can hear her father say. In a sick way, you both love and hate her.

You love her because she always has your back. When she found out you were pregnant, she nearly killed Puck. When you stopped her with the touch of a hand, with one look - you felt that surge of power again. She's almost like a puppet in your hands. Sometimes, it's like you can perform magic. Sometimes you hurt her, just to see what she'll do, and it's fucking amazing how her resolve just melts if you look into her eyes and mutter a soft apology - you can see it crumble right in front of you.

You have to hand it to her, in eleven years she hasn't given up on you. You're not sure whether that is romantic, worrying or terrifying.

But you hate her. You're not stupid. You know something is up with her and Brittany, and you definitely know when you walk in on them one day in Santana's room. They are too busy to notice you and you immediately leave. You're crying by the time you've reached your car. You swear you could kill her for touching Brittany.

Brittany is pure and innocent and Santana should know better than to fucking taint her. Santana should just stay away from her, especially when you know she's too obsessed with you to truly care about Brittany, which means she's using Brittany.

You decide you'll have your revenge.

You will defend Brittany's honor until the day you die, the only good thing you'll ever do with your miserable life.

When Coach Sylvester tells you the next day that you'll have to step up your game if you don't want to lose your title as Captain to Santana, the game is so on. She has already taken Brittany away from you - she won't fucking have this as well.

You decide to use Santana in turn. You go to her house that night and kiss her. You see what it does to her, how it shakes her to her core.

You want to use her and then dump her. You want to stomp on her empty heart for abusing Brittany. Brittany deserves better. At least you would take care of her and protect her, respect her. You want to hurt her.

The next day, Brittany has dyed her hair and it confuses you. Why would she do that? She was perfect just the way she was. She had such beautiful, hazelnut-colored hair. The amount of time you've spent dreaming about running your hands through it... You'll have to readjust all your mental images of the two of you together. Edit the pictures in your head.

You feel bile in your mouth when you realize her intentions.

She wants to be you to Santana, when all you want is for her to look at you the way she looks at Santana. This is some fucked up shit.

That same day, you make out with Santana behind the bleachers. You're going to drag this one out. If living with your parents has enhanced one skill of yours, it's the acting skill. The years of pretending are finally proving their worth.

You set up a story about how you need to keep seeing Liam - simply because you do.

Liam isn't a fool, he knows you're not into him, but he also knows that you know he's not into girls at all. (You're not quite ready to admit thatyou're not into guys at all. You keep telling yourself it's just Brittany, and how are you supposed to fight any feelings you have for her?) Santana doesn't need to know any of this.

"I understand, baby."

You smile. "Baby," you say slowly, pretending to test the word. "I like that."

You then set up some rules to hide the relationship. You knew your plan would work.

Santana is so blinded by her obsessive love for you, it's pathetic. In fact, she's not even in love with the real you. She's in love with the idea she has developed of you over the years. (You refuse to believe you've done the same with Brittany. You ignore the rumors of her perfect record - you can't afford to lose yourself in rage the way Santana does.)

You can't deny that the first time you two fuck is magical. It's better than you'd thought it would be. She just keeps going. It's as if you've unleashed a monster within her. She whispers sweet nothings, treats you so gently, gingerly even, and for the first time you feel guilty for what you're doing.

When you kiss Santana, you can only think that Brittany kisses those lips.

When your tongue meets Santana's, you can only think that Brittany's has too.

You have sex with Brittany through Santana. It's wicked and perverse, but it's the best you can get. In the meanwhile, Santana's teaching you all about sex, which you will put to good use once you have Brittany.

You know you're not really good enough for her, but a part of you still hopes she'll see through that. A part of you hopes that she'll accept you're messed up and forgive you, even though you don't deserve it.

The longer you're together with Santana, the harder it becomes to break up with her. She's so sweet to you, so accommodating. For the first time you realize that she cares for you. She knows you and all your flaws, but she still loves you.

And isn't that what you wanted? For someone to love you? Didn't you think that was impossible?

The way she looks at you... nobody will ever look at you like that. You know that.

You're surprised when you start looking forward to seeing her, kissing her, making love to her. Spending time with her. Being goofy with her. Being nerdy with her. You know she won't tell. You can be yourself with her and you never knew how much you valued that.

She's the perfect girlfriend. A bit needy sometimes, and insanely jealous and possessive, but everybody has their flaws. God, don't you know that.

When you first decide to let go of your original plan, you think you're settling for what you can get as you watch Brittany from afar. Because honestly, when Brittany meets Adam at the dance studio and introduces him to the two of you, your heart breaks and you want to kill him.

Over time, you see how happy he makes her. You know that he is helping her to get over Santana. And then Santana smiles at you, because she's happy for your friend, and you think to yourself that this isn't too bad - you could've done worse than see the girl you love being happy and have a gorgeous girl love you.

You learn to appreciate Santana.

Santana buys you the entire Harry Potter book collection for your birthday.

That's when you tell her for the first time that you love her and actually mean it.

You don't love her the way you love Brittany, but you think you can find peace with the fact that Brittany's happy. Santana treats you well, and when she proposed to you five years later and you accept, you do it with an honest heart.

Fin.

________
 A/N: I hope this was a satisfying end to this short story. I hope that by adding two more chapters, I showed that every situation is too complex for one person to fully understand. Brittany misinterprets some of Quinn's actions, simply because she is so in love with Santana who is in turn so in love with Quinn that it isn't that far-fetched for Brittany to see everything Quinn does in a bad light. 
I know Quinn is a bitch here. I hope the little background I gave her explains her actions. I know they don't condone them, but I honestly believe that in this story, maybe she simply doesn't know better.

As far as Santana goes - yes, she is happy, but one can wonder what the quality of that happiness is when it is based on lies. But then in the end, I do believe that Quinn has fallen for Santana and truly loves her, in her own way.

character: quinn fabray, character: brittany pierce, rating: pg 13, pairing: quinn/santana, character: santana lopez, story: second best

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