Fanfiction - Glee - BSB
Title: BSB
Pairing: Rachel/Brittany/Santana
Rating: PG-13
Length: ±2500
Disclaimer: nothing is mine, unfortunately
Summary: BSB Stands for More Than Just the Backstreet Boys
A/N: English is not my first language. Thanks to myxe for the help
The song is ‘What makes you different’ by Backstreet Boys. Because when I heard they were doing one of their songs I thought about this one.
I mean no disrespect to anyone.
“And last but not least…” Mr. Schuester looked at the piece of paper in his hand. “Um, Brittany? What does this mean?” He showed the students what was written on the paper: three letters, written over and over in different fonts and styles.
“BSB?” Finn frowned, reading it.
“Backstreet Boys!” Quinn exclaimed, before glaring at a snickering Puck. “What? I was little,” she said, defensive.
Mr. Schue raised his hands to stop them. “Brittany, this wasn’t what I asked for, but I’ll keep your request to do boy band songs in mind,” he said, before continuing the practice.
Brittany, who had only started listening after hearing her name called, frowned and leaned towards Santana. “Why is he talking about boy bands? I’ve always preferred girl bands…”
“We know,” Rachel was the one to answer her, patting her thigh, before turning her attention back to the teacher. It wasn’t like he ever said anything interesting (she knew more about music than he did and always gave 120 percent in every performance, unlike her fellow glee club members, so she certainly didn’t need his pep talks), but she needed to be constantly alert in the unfortunate chance that Mr. Schue decided to give away a solo that was rightfully hers to someone else. It was an event that happened far too often in Rachel’s opinion.
A week later, Brittany was walking down the hallway with a wide smile on her face. She was trying to restrain herself from skipping, an act that Coach Sue deemed as outrageous and disgraceful behavior for a Cheerio. Today had been perfect: no Cheerio practice, glee club and then all weekend with-
“There’s nothing to smile about, retard,” a boy covered in slushy hissed as he passed by her.
Brittany stopped in her tracks and looked around. She had been lost in thought and didn’t see anyone, but she heard what the boy said.
“Did you get lost again?” a saccharine voice asked behind her. Brittany turned around and her smile fell once again when she recognized the mocking glint in the girl’s eyes.
At the opposite end of the hallway, two pairs of eyes worriedly watched every action.
“No,” Brittany said, her voice cold and emotionless like Santana had taught her. Next, she held her head up high and spun on her heel to execute the storm out Rachel insisted she practice.
Santana raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing on her lips, before she frowned. Brittany was upset.
At the same time, Rachel looked at the blonde cheerleader proudly, mentally taking notes about what Brittany needed to improve, but then she, too, frowned. Brittany was upset.
The two brunettes looked at each other. Rachel tilted her head in the direction the boy had gone. Santana smirked and with long, graceful strides covered the distance between her and Rachel. “She’s all yours,” she said as she passed the diva, her head motioning to the girl who was talking to Brittany earlier, before focusing on her mission to find the boy who had dared to upset Brittany.
“My pleasure…” Rachel cracked her knuckles, her stance as frightening as Santana’s.
Nobody messed with Brittany. Not on their watch.
“Everything okay?” Rachel was waiting outside the choir room for Santana.
“Do you really have to ask?” The cheerleader smirked, rubbing her hand.
“So… what now?” they heard as Rachel pushed the door opened. “Take That?”
“Maybe Blue?”
Rachel frowned.
“Why not ’N Sync?”
“Wait, wait! Maybe something more modern! The Jonas Brothers?”
Giggles followed and Rachel searched the choir room for Brittany. The blonde was sitting alone, the chairs around her empty, with a sad expression on her face. Rachel closed the door with one arm and wrapped her other arm around Santana’s waist to hold her back.
“What?” Santana growled.
“Going in and beating them up isn’t going to make Brittany happier. I have a better idea.”
“No.” Santana crossed her arms over her chest. “No,” she repeated. “No way in hell.”
Rachel looked around, making sure that nobody was around to witness what she was about to do (and even if there were, it’s not like anyone would believe that Rachel Berry could use a tactic other than annoying someone to death with her speeches to convince them to do something anyway).
Once she was sure the coast was clear, she grabbed Santana’s uniform collar and yanked her down, so that they had no choice but to look into each other’s eyes. “Do you know what’s going to happen next week?”
Santana looked confused for a couple of seconds, before realization dawned on her: Brittany’s period. It was the only time when the blonde didn’t want to hear or see anything that reminded her of sex… much less want to do the act itself.
“Do it, or else you’ll have to get well-acquainted with your hand for the whole week.”
Santana’s eyes widened dramatically. “You can’t do that!”
“Watch me.” Rachel released Santana’s uniform and moved towards the door.
“Okay, okay. Fine,” the cheerleader hurriedly agreed, catching Rachel’s arm. “I’ll do it.”
“Good. I knew we’d reach an agreement.” The shorter girl ignored the disbelieving look Santana sent her way. “Everything clear?”
“Crystal.”
“Great! Let’s go over it one more time from the top...”
“Are you ready?” Rachel asked, her hand already on the doorknob, but she was hesitant.
“As ready as I can be.”
Rachel returned Santana’s grimace.
“For Brittany,” she said aloud, trying to convince herself as much as she was Santana.
“Right.” Santana nodded, still unsure. “For Brittany.”
“For Brittany,” Rachel repeated again, before taking a deep breath and schooling the uncertainty on her features into her show face. “Let’s do this thing.” She opened the door.
“Mr. Schue, Santana and I have taken the liberty to prepare a song for a special someone in this room,” Rachel announced.
“Actually,” he started to say, but she interrupted him.
“Thank you, Brad. Santana, whenever you’re ready…”
You don't run with the crowd
You go your own way
Santana took Rachel’s hand and brought her over to Brittany. Rachel was confused because they hadn’t discussed choreography, but she guessed it made sense to approach Brittany since they were singing to her, after all.
You don't play after dark
You light up my day
Santana nudged Rachel to take the seat next to Brittany, and now the tiny girl was completely baffled.
Got your own kind of style
That sets you apart
Baby, that's why you captured my heart
The Latina sang to both girls, who were looking at her with wide eyes. Brittany’s smile was larger than Rachel’s, who was still dumbfounded by the unexpected direction the performance took. All the other people in the room had a similar expression, but for different reasons. Was Santana Badass Lopez really singing a love song to Berry and Brittany? And, more importantly, a song from a boy band?
I know sometimes you feel like you don't fit in
And this world doesn't know what you have within
When I look at you, I see something rare
A rose that can grow anywhere
And there's no one I know that can compare
Rachel was glad that nobody else knew how they had shared the lyrics, because there was no way people could know that Rachel Berry had missed her cue. By the time she realized that she was supposed to sing the chorus with Santana, it was already too late, and the only thing she could do was pretend that everything was happening according to plan.
What makes you different, makes you beautiful
What's there inside you, shines through to me
In your eyes I see, all the love I'll ever need
You're all I need, oh girl
What makes you different, makes you beautiful to me
Rachel stood up and turned towards Brittany.
You got something so real
You touched me so deep
You see material things
Don't matter to me
So come as you are
You've got nothing to prove
You've won me with all that you do
And I wanna take this chance to say to you
She smiled at the last line. All three of them had taken a chance, when they decided to give their unconventional relationship a try. And the risk paid off.
Standing next to Santana, they sang the chorus together.
What makes you different, makes you beautiful
What's there inside you, shines through to me
In your eyes I see, all the love I'll ever need
You're all I need, oh girl
What makes you different, makes you beautiful
With a look, Santana and Rachel decided to sing the next part together, as it perfectly suited the both of them.
You don't know how you touched my life
Oh in so many ways I just can't describe
You taught me what love is supposed to be
It's all the little things that make you beautiful to me
As they glided effortlessly towards the end of the song, Rachel wondered why they had never sang a duet together before. Their voices blended together wonderfully, they had chemistry, obviously, and they could understand each other with just a look. She needed to make a list of possible duets to propose to Mr. Schue, and fast.
What makes you,
What makes you different, makes you beautiful
What's there inside you, shines through to me
In your eyes I see, all the love I'll ever need
You're all I need, oh girl
What makes you different, makes you beautiful to me
Everything you do is beautiful
Love you give shines right through me
Everything you do is beautiful
Oh, you're beautiful to me.
They sat down on either side of Brittany, who took their hands and squeezed them. Brittany wanted to show them how much she loved their performance, how much it meant to her, how much she loved them… but they made her promise to never start something that she couldn’t finish, especially at school, so she settled for squeezing their hands instead.
“Not a word,” Santana growled at the room at large, while not looking at anybody in particular. She couldn’t meet their eyes.
“Well…” Mr. Schue cleared his voice. “That was really good, girls. It’s fantastic to see some initiative, even if it wasn’t what today’s assignment was about…” he trailed off, seeing Santana glaring at him. “But since people are interested, I suppose that the next assignment could be-" he started writing on the board -- "boy bands!"
He turned around in time to see Kurt and Mercedes exchanging a glance. “Mr. Schue-” they started at the same time.
“And all-female bands too, naturally.” The teacher laughed as the two teens visibly relaxed.
“We’re doing Spice Girls!” Brittany exclaimed clapping her hands. “You’ll be Sporty Spice. You know, the one with the sports bra,” she said to Rachel. Santana’s protests at Brittany’s choice, as it was a given that they would work together, never made it past her lips. During Rachel’s Britney Spears stunt, she had dreamt about the tiny diva in a ‘Baby, One More Time’ outfit and-
“I agree!” Santana exclaimed loudly.
“What are you doing?” Rachel leant against the door of Brittany’s bedroom.
“Nothing.”
Rachel shook her head. It wasn’t that Brittany was stupid, but she often tended to take words too literally. Even after the whole BSB debacle, Mr. Schuester had asked the glee kids to write what they thought about the topic at hand, but since Brittany hadn’t been paying attention, she only caught a few words and assumed the task was ‘write what you’re thinking’. So she did, with Rachel and Santana’s hands each on one leg.
“What are you looking at?” Rachel asked, trying again, and this time it was the right question because Brittany showed her a piece of paper.
“I can’t believe you kept it.” Rachel sat down on the bed, where Brittany was lying on her front. She looked at the sheet in the blonde’s hand. There were three letters, a B, S, and another B, written on the top of the page, followed by a series of numbers.
FLASHBACK
“I demand to keep a written account of the score.”
Santana glared at Rachel. They both knew that Brittany always wanted to be the one keeping the scores.
“Britt, do you have paper and pen? I want make sure that Santana won’t cheat,” Rachel continued.
“You’re such a sore loser,” Santana taunted, then when she was sure Brittany was out of earshot she snapped. “What the hell, Berry?”
“I know that Brittany wants to keep the scores, but you know she gets distracted and messes it up… then when she realizes that she doesn’t remember them…” She trailed off. They both remembered how it took an hour, last time, to convince her that she wasn’t stupid.
“Got it!” Brittany announced as she came back with the items.
“B, only write what I tell you to. We don’t want over here Berry to cheat.”
“Okay.” The blonde agreed, and waited for instructions. Rachel huffed.
“Write ‘Berry, Santana, Brittany’.” Santana waited until Brittany did so. “And now you have to sign the points I tell you to under the right column.”
“I’ll keep an eye on you,” Rachel warned her.
Brittany giggled, amused by their antics.
“Wait, wait. I finished the page.” Brittany hurriedly turned the sheet. “What did you say?”
Santana dictated the numbers again.
“Wait,” Brittany said again, “what was the order?” She quickly looked at the front of the page to make sure she wouldn’t assign the wrong names to the wrong columns. “Right.” She nodded before writing only the initials. “Oh my God!” the blonde exclaimed.
“What?” Rachel and Santana asked worriedly.
“We’re the Backstreet Boys.”
“What?” Their tones changed from worried to bewildered.
“Look. Our initials.” Brittany showed them the front of the paper. “Berry, Santana, Brittany. If we take just the first letters, we get BSB! Do you see it, Bab?” she asked Rachel, using the nickname that they weren’t sure came from Rachel’s middle name or from Santana’s habit of calling her baby. “Hey, it works with our nicknames too!” Brittany exclaimed, even more enthusiastic. “Bab, S and B!”
Months later
Brittany pranced into the kitchen holding the tattered slip of paper in her hand. Rachel and Santana looked at each other warily and lowered their glasses onto the table.
“B?” Santana began. “You don’t want us to sing another Backstreet Boys song, right?”
Brittany shook her head and the brunettes sighed with relief. It would have gone against Santana’s badass image and Rachel’s sensibility about good music, but they knew that if Brittany had asked them, they would have done it anyway.
“What is it, then?” Santana asked.
A thought hit Rachel, and she tensed. What if Brittany wanted to get a tattoo? What if Brittany wanted the three of them to get tattoos? She couldn’t mar her skin in such a way. It wouldn’t be constructive for her future career… especially if she put on herself something that everyone would think was a homage to a mediocre nineties boy band. Her mental rant was interrupted by a hand rubbing her back soothingly and another pushing her glass into her line of vision.
Rachel took the glass and looked at Santana, who retracted her hand from her back and made a show of taking her own glass and drinking, hinting at Rachel to do the same.
Brittany put the sheet of paper on the table and pushed it towards the two girls, who were still drinking. “We should have it engraved on our rings.”
Later, they would have a talk with Brittany about being more worried about juice spraying on the sheet than her girlfriends choking to death.
Pairing: Rachel/Brittany/Santana
Rating: PG-13
Length: ±2500
Disclaimer: nothing is mine, unfortunately
Summary: BSB Stands for More Than Just the Backstreet Boys
A/N: English is not my first language. Thanks to myxe for the help
The song is ‘What makes you different’ by Backstreet Boys. Because when I heard they were doing one of their songs I thought about this one.
I mean no disrespect to anyone.
“And last but not least…” Mr. Schuester looked at the piece of paper in his hand. “Um, Brittany? What does this mean?” He showed the students what was written on the paper: three letters, written over and over in different fonts and styles.
“BSB?” Finn frowned, reading it.
“Backstreet Boys!” Quinn exclaimed, before glaring at a snickering Puck. “What? I was little,” she said, defensive.
Mr. Schue raised his hands to stop them. “Brittany, this wasn’t what I asked for, but I’ll keep your request to do boy band songs in mind,” he said, before continuing the practice.
Brittany, who had only started listening after hearing her name called, frowned and leaned towards Santana. “Why is he talking about boy bands? I’ve always preferred girl bands…”
“We know,” Rachel was the one to answer her, patting her thigh, before turning her attention back to the teacher. It wasn’t like he ever said anything interesting (she knew more about music than he did and always gave 120 percent in every performance, unlike her fellow glee club members, so she certainly didn’t need his pep talks), but she needed to be constantly alert in the unfortunate chance that Mr. Schue decided to give away a solo that was rightfully hers to someone else. It was an event that happened far too often in Rachel’s opinion.
A week later, Brittany was walking down the hallway with a wide smile on her face. She was trying to restrain herself from skipping, an act that Coach Sue deemed as outrageous and disgraceful behavior for a Cheerio. Today had been perfect: no Cheerio practice, glee club and then all weekend with-
“There’s nothing to smile about, retard,” a boy covered in slushy hissed as he passed by her.
Brittany stopped in her tracks and looked around. She had been lost in thought and didn’t see anyone, but she heard what the boy said.
“Did you get lost again?” a saccharine voice asked behind her. Brittany turned around and her smile fell once again when she recognized the mocking glint in the girl’s eyes.
At the opposite end of the hallway, two pairs of eyes worriedly watched every action.
“No,” Brittany said, her voice cold and emotionless like Santana had taught her. Next, she held her head up high and spun on her heel to execute the storm out Rachel insisted she practice.
Santana raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing on her lips, before she frowned. Brittany was upset.
At the same time, Rachel looked at the blonde cheerleader proudly, mentally taking notes about what Brittany needed to improve, but then she, too, frowned. Brittany was upset.
The two brunettes looked at each other. Rachel tilted her head in the direction the boy had gone. Santana smirked and with long, graceful strides covered the distance between her and Rachel. “She’s all yours,” she said as she passed the diva, her head motioning to the girl who was talking to Brittany earlier, before focusing on her mission to find the boy who had dared to upset Brittany.
“My pleasure…” Rachel cracked her knuckles, her stance as frightening as Santana’s.
Nobody messed with Brittany. Not on their watch.
“Everything okay?” Rachel was waiting outside the choir room for Santana.
“Do you really have to ask?” The cheerleader smirked, rubbing her hand.
“So… what now?” they heard as Rachel pushed the door opened. “Take That?”
“Maybe Blue?”
Rachel frowned.
“Why not ’N Sync?”
“Wait, wait! Maybe something more modern! The Jonas Brothers?”
Giggles followed and Rachel searched the choir room for Brittany. The blonde was sitting alone, the chairs around her empty, with a sad expression on her face. Rachel closed the door with one arm and wrapped her other arm around Santana’s waist to hold her back.
“What?” Santana growled.
“Going in and beating them up isn’t going to make Brittany happier. I have a better idea.”
“No.” Santana crossed her arms over her chest. “No,” she repeated. “No way in hell.”
Rachel looked around, making sure that nobody was around to witness what she was about to do (and even if there were, it’s not like anyone would believe that Rachel Berry could use a tactic other than annoying someone to death with her speeches to convince them to do something anyway).
Once she was sure the coast was clear, she grabbed Santana’s uniform collar and yanked her down, so that they had no choice but to look into each other’s eyes. “Do you know what’s going to happen next week?”
Santana looked confused for a couple of seconds, before realization dawned on her: Brittany’s period. It was the only time when the blonde didn’t want to hear or see anything that reminded her of sex… much less want to do the act itself.
“Do it, or else you’ll have to get well-acquainted with your hand for the whole week.”
Santana’s eyes widened dramatically. “You can’t do that!”
“Watch me.” Rachel released Santana’s uniform and moved towards the door.
“Okay, okay. Fine,” the cheerleader hurriedly agreed, catching Rachel’s arm. “I’ll do it.”
“Good. I knew we’d reach an agreement.” The shorter girl ignored the disbelieving look Santana sent her way. “Everything clear?”
“Crystal.”
“Great! Let’s go over it one more time from the top...”
“Are you ready?” Rachel asked, her hand already on the doorknob, but she was hesitant.
“As ready as I can be.”
Rachel returned Santana’s grimace.
“For Brittany,” she said aloud, trying to convince herself as much as she was Santana.
“Right.” Santana nodded, still unsure. “For Brittany.”
“For Brittany,” Rachel repeated again, before taking a deep breath and schooling the uncertainty on her features into her show face. “Let’s do this thing.” She opened the door.
“Mr. Schue, Santana and I have taken the liberty to prepare a song for a special someone in this room,” Rachel announced.
“Actually,” he started to say, but she interrupted him.
“Thank you, Brad. Santana, whenever you’re ready…”
You don't run with the crowd
You go your own way
Santana took Rachel’s hand and brought her over to Brittany. Rachel was confused because they hadn’t discussed choreography, but she guessed it made sense to approach Brittany since they were singing to her, after all.
You don't play after dark
You light up my day
Santana nudged Rachel to take the seat next to Brittany, and now the tiny girl was completely baffled.
Got your own kind of style
That sets you apart
Baby, that's why you captured my heart
The Latina sang to both girls, who were looking at her with wide eyes. Brittany’s smile was larger than Rachel’s, who was still dumbfounded by the unexpected direction the performance took. All the other people in the room had a similar expression, but for different reasons. Was Santana Badass Lopez really singing a love song to Berry and Brittany? And, more importantly, a song from a boy band?
I know sometimes you feel like you don't fit in
And this world doesn't know what you have within
When I look at you, I see something rare
A rose that can grow anywhere
And there's no one I know that can compare
Rachel was glad that nobody else knew how they had shared the lyrics, because there was no way people could know that Rachel Berry had missed her cue. By the time she realized that she was supposed to sing the chorus with Santana, it was already too late, and the only thing she could do was pretend that everything was happening according to plan.
What makes you different, makes you beautiful
What's there inside you, shines through to me
In your eyes I see, all the love I'll ever need
You're all I need, oh girl
What makes you different, makes you beautiful to me
Rachel stood up and turned towards Brittany.
You got something so real
You touched me so deep
You see material things
Don't matter to me
So come as you are
You've got nothing to prove
You've won me with all that you do
And I wanna take this chance to say to you
She smiled at the last line. All three of them had taken a chance, when they decided to give their unconventional relationship a try. And the risk paid off.
Standing next to Santana, they sang the chorus together.
What makes you different, makes you beautiful
What's there inside you, shines through to me
In your eyes I see, all the love I'll ever need
You're all I need, oh girl
What makes you different, makes you beautiful
With a look, Santana and Rachel decided to sing the next part together, as it perfectly suited the both of them.
You don't know how you touched my life
Oh in so many ways I just can't describe
You taught me what love is supposed to be
It's all the little things that make you beautiful to me
As they glided effortlessly towards the end of the song, Rachel wondered why they had never sang a duet together before. Their voices blended together wonderfully, they had chemistry, obviously, and they could understand each other with just a look. She needed to make a list of possible duets to propose to Mr. Schue, and fast.
What makes you,
What makes you different, makes you beautiful
What's there inside you, shines through to me
In your eyes I see, all the love I'll ever need
You're all I need, oh girl
What makes you different, makes you beautiful to me
Everything you do is beautiful
Love you give shines right through me
Everything you do is beautiful
Oh, you're beautiful to me.
They sat down on either side of Brittany, who took their hands and squeezed them. Brittany wanted to show them how much she loved their performance, how much it meant to her, how much she loved them… but they made her promise to never start something that she couldn’t finish, especially at school, so she settled for squeezing their hands instead.
“Not a word,” Santana growled at the room at large, while not looking at anybody in particular. She couldn’t meet their eyes.
“Well…” Mr. Schue cleared his voice. “That was really good, girls. It’s fantastic to see some initiative, even if it wasn’t what today’s assignment was about…” he trailed off, seeing Santana glaring at him. “But since people are interested, I suppose that the next assignment could be-" he started writing on the board -- "boy bands!"
He turned around in time to see Kurt and Mercedes exchanging a glance. “Mr. Schue-” they started at the same time.
“And all-female bands too, naturally.” The teacher laughed as the two teens visibly relaxed.
“We’re doing Spice Girls!” Brittany exclaimed clapping her hands. “You’ll be Sporty Spice. You know, the one with the sports bra,” she said to Rachel. Santana’s protests at Brittany’s choice, as it was a given that they would work together, never made it past her lips. During Rachel’s Britney Spears stunt, she had dreamt about the tiny diva in a ‘Baby, One More Time’ outfit and-
“I agree!” Santana exclaimed loudly.
“What are you doing?” Rachel leant against the door of Brittany’s bedroom.
“Nothing.”
Rachel shook her head. It wasn’t that Brittany was stupid, but she often tended to take words too literally. Even after the whole BSB debacle, Mr. Schuester had asked the glee kids to write what they thought about the topic at hand, but since Brittany hadn’t been paying attention, she only caught a few words and assumed the task was ‘write what you’re thinking’. So she did, with Rachel and Santana’s hands each on one leg.
“What are you looking at?” Rachel asked, trying again, and this time it was the right question because Brittany showed her a piece of paper.
“I can’t believe you kept it.” Rachel sat down on the bed, where Brittany was lying on her front. She looked at the sheet in the blonde’s hand. There were three letters, a B, S, and another B, written on the top of the page, followed by a series of numbers.
FLASHBACK
“I demand to keep a written account of the score.”
Santana glared at Rachel. They both knew that Brittany always wanted to be the one keeping the scores.
“Britt, do you have paper and pen? I want make sure that Santana won’t cheat,” Rachel continued.
“You’re such a sore loser,” Santana taunted, then when she was sure Brittany was out of earshot she snapped. “What the hell, Berry?”
“I know that Brittany wants to keep the scores, but you know she gets distracted and messes it up… then when she realizes that she doesn’t remember them…” She trailed off. They both remembered how it took an hour, last time, to convince her that she wasn’t stupid.
“Got it!” Brittany announced as she came back with the items.
“B, only write what I tell you to. We don’t want over here Berry to cheat.”
“Okay.” The blonde agreed, and waited for instructions. Rachel huffed.
“Write ‘Berry, Santana, Brittany’.” Santana waited until Brittany did so. “And now you have to sign the points I tell you to under the right column.”
“I’ll keep an eye on you,” Rachel warned her.
Brittany giggled, amused by their antics.
“Wait, wait. I finished the page.” Brittany hurriedly turned the sheet. “What did you say?”
Santana dictated the numbers again.
“Wait,” Brittany said again, “what was the order?” She quickly looked at the front of the page to make sure she wouldn’t assign the wrong names to the wrong columns. “Right.” She nodded before writing only the initials. “Oh my God!” the blonde exclaimed.
“What?” Rachel and Santana asked worriedly.
“We’re the Backstreet Boys.”
“What?” Their tones changed from worried to bewildered.
“Look. Our initials.” Brittany showed them the front of the paper. “Berry, Santana, Brittany. If we take just the first letters, we get BSB! Do you see it, Bab?” she asked Rachel, using the nickname that they weren’t sure came from Rachel’s middle name or from Santana’s habit of calling her baby. “Hey, it works with our nicknames too!” Brittany exclaimed, even more enthusiastic. “Bab, S and B!”
Months later
Brittany pranced into the kitchen holding the tattered slip of paper in her hand. Rachel and Santana looked at each other warily and lowered their glasses onto the table.
“B?” Santana began. “You don’t want us to sing another Backstreet Boys song, right?”
Brittany shook her head and the brunettes sighed with relief. It would have gone against Santana’s badass image and Rachel’s sensibility about good music, but they knew that if Brittany had asked them, they would have done it anyway.
“What is it, then?” Santana asked.
A thought hit Rachel, and she tensed. What if Brittany wanted to get a tattoo? What if Brittany wanted the three of them to get tattoos? She couldn’t mar her skin in such a way. It wouldn’t be constructive for her future career… especially if she put on herself something that everyone would think was a homage to a mediocre nineties boy band. Her mental rant was interrupted by a hand rubbing her back soothingly and another pushing her glass into her line of vision.
Rachel took the glass and looked at Santana, who retracted her hand from her back and made a show of taking her own glass and drinking, hinting at Rachel to do the same.
Brittany put the sheet of paper on the table and pushed it towards the two girls, who were still drinking. “We should have it engraved on our rings.”
Later, they would have a talk with Brittany about being more worried about juice spraying on the sheet than her girlfriends choking to death.