Fic: Remember When 9/?
Title: Remember When 9/?
Pairing: Brittany/Santana
Rating: PG15. Sexual references, nothing graphic
Word Count: 1315
Summary: Brittany's twenty...
Warnings: None really
Disclaimer: Not mine, never were, blah blah woof woof.
Brittany's twenty and she's proud of herself.
She finished high school, albeit with a lot of hard work and help from her dad, from Mr. Schue, and of course from Santana. She graduated the spring after Santana and everyone else did, and there's not one single person in Glee, scattered as they are all over the United States, who didn't make the trip back to Lima to help Brittany celebrate. They all know how hard it was for her, she's not book smart like Rachel or Quinn or Santana, but she did it anyway, and Brittany can't think of anything better celebrating with her favorite people in the world.
It turns out that graduation sex is even better when it's your own graduation.
Brittany gets into UCLA. Her grades are hardly a 4.0 but they don't suck, and her extra curriculars tip her over, and Santana reapplied and got in again (they'd wanted her the first time around, it was obvious she would be able to do it again). So at the end of the summer they fly to California and move into the dorms to save a bit of money. They room together, Brittany doesn't know how Santana manages it but she does, and the whole year there's one bed that doesn't get slept in.
Brittany's twenty now and she's in her first year at UCLA and it still gives her a little tingle when she gets to say that out loud, because she never imagined she'd do well enough in school to get this far. She doesn't know what to major in for a long time, but in the end she picks dance and drama, because she's good at dancing and it turns out she's good at acting too. She doesn't understand most of the technical terms - not until Santana helps her make flashcards and they play strip-flashcards to study - but she is good at making a picture of her character in her head, and sort of worming her way inside of it. Her first play is a success, and the campus newspaper says she's fresh, talented, and someone to watch. Brittany sends a copy home, and the next time she talks to her parents, they tell her they've framed the review and hung it over the mantelpiece.
Brittany can't describe how good it feels that she's doing something with her life that her parents can actually be proud of her for. Most of Brittany's other classes are pretty hard but Santana helps her with all of them, and between that and actually working hard for the first time in her life (apart from her last year of high school) she's doing okay. More than okay, really. She's passing everything, and she makes a lot of friends.
Santana's almost twenty and she's in her second year of college, her first at UCLA. It turns out that even though she doesn't think she's the most patient of people, she actually has a real talent for teaching. So Santana's majoring in Education. She says she wants to work with little kids, with preschoolers, because she doesn't think she could teach high school, she wouldn't have the patience to deal with teenage attitudes. Brittany thinks Santana teaching is a great idea. After all, Brittany's fluent in Spanish because of Santana's influence, and pretty much every other factoid that Brittany's managed to keep in her head is because of Santana's patient tutoring.
When school gets out they find a place off campus to live, it's on the third floor of an okay building. It has a kitchen and a bathroom and a living room, and it only has one bedroom. The agent isn't even going to show it to them (she assumes they need two bedrooms) until Santana leans in and with an arm around Brittany's waist and a nuzzle to her cheek shows the agent that one bedroom is just fine, thank you very much. They sign the lease and begin to pack up their lives.
Brittany's twenty and she's probably more tired now than she's ever been in her life. She carries the last box up the stairs and surveys her surroundings. The place is a mess but it's hers and Santana's and not even the days worth of unpacking they have in front of them can ruin that for her.
The furniture is a crazy mix of old and new. There's stuff brought from their family homes like the couch (rescued from Santana's parents' den) and the chairs (Brittany's parents have just bought an all new lounge suite, no reason why Brittany shouldn't have the old stuff). There's stuff bought new like their bed, queen sized, room enough to spread out but small enough to warrant a lot of snuggling. And there's stuff donated by friends, like the bedside tables, a matching set made by hand, mostly by Finn and Puck but stained by Johan. Brittany loves every smudge and speckle on those bedside tables, because her baby brother did it all himself.
Their furniture shouldn't look good, shouldn't look right because it's all so different and nothing matches anything else, but it looks good and right because it belongs to them. And Santana's lounging in the doorway that leads to the kitchen, their kitchen, looking so delicious that Brittany just has to take the few steps needed to catch Santana by the arm, pull her in close and kiss her. It's the first kiss of many, the first kiss in the apartment that's theirs. They're grown up now and god, it feels good.
To hell with the boxes, Santana says. She says they have to christen the bedroom, and Brittany's not sure how you christen a room, but she knows how to christen a person, and she's pretty sure they'll need a priest or something because there was a priest when they christened Johan, so she reaches for the phone. But Santana giggles, pulls her back, whispers in her ear even though there's no one else around, and Brittany stops reaching for the phone, because Santana's version of christening sounds much more fun than having a priest over.
It's later. Santana's asleep, her long legs tangled with Brittany's the way they used to do when the bed was too small for both of them. Brittany's awake, because she can't quite believe they're here. Brittany's twenty and she's loved Santana since they were four and Santana gave half of the cookie back, but back then she never thought things could turn out so damn perfect. She stares up at the ceiling for a while, her hand still tracing up and down Santana's soft skin, and listens to Santana breathe. Every now and then Santana lets out a little moan or whimper in her sleep, tiny little noises of contentment that make Brittany smile. She closes her eyes and falls asleep finally with a smile on her face.
Pairing: Brittany/Santana
Rating: PG15. Sexual references, nothing graphic
Word Count: 1315
Summary: Brittany's twenty...
Warnings: None really
Disclaimer: Not mine, never were, blah blah woof woof.
Brittany's twenty and she's proud of herself.
She finished high school, albeit with a lot of hard work and help from her dad, from Mr. Schue, and of course from Santana. She graduated the spring after Santana and everyone else did, and there's not one single person in Glee, scattered as they are all over the United States, who didn't make the trip back to Lima to help Brittany celebrate. They all know how hard it was for her, she's not book smart like Rachel or Quinn or Santana, but she did it anyway, and Brittany can't think of anything better celebrating with her favorite people in the world.
It turns out that graduation sex is even better when it's your own graduation.
Brittany gets into UCLA. Her grades are hardly a 4.0 but they don't suck, and her extra curriculars tip her over, and Santana reapplied and got in again (they'd wanted her the first time around, it was obvious she would be able to do it again). So at the end of the summer they fly to California and move into the dorms to save a bit of money. They room together, Brittany doesn't know how Santana manages it but she does, and the whole year there's one bed that doesn't get slept in.
Brittany's twenty now and she's in her first year at UCLA and it still gives her a little tingle when she gets to say that out loud, because she never imagined she'd do well enough in school to get this far. She doesn't know what to major in for a long time, but in the end she picks dance and drama, because she's good at dancing and it turns out she's good at acting too. She doesn't understand most of the technical terms - not until Santana helps her make flashcards and they play strip-flashcards to study - but she is good at making a picture of her character in her head, and sort of worming her way inside of it. Her first play is a success, and the campus newspaper says she's fresh, talented, and someone to watch. Brittany sends a copy home, and the next time she talks to her parents, they tell her they've framed the review and hung it over the mantelpiece.
Brittany can't describe how good it feels that she's doing something with her life that her parents can actually be proud of her for. Most of Brittany's other classes are pretty hard but Santana helps her with all of them, and between that and actually working hard for the first time in her life (apart from her last year of high school) she's doing okay. More than okay, really. She's passing everything, and she makes a lot of friends.
Santana's almost twenty and she's in her second year of college, her first at UCLA. It turns out that even though she doesn't think she's the most patient of people, she actually has a real talent for teaching. So Santana's majoring in Education. She says she wants to work with little kids, with preschoolers, because she doesn't think she could teach high school, she wouldn't have the patience to deal with teenage attitudes. Brittany thinks Santana teaching is a great idea. After all, Brittany's fluent in Spanish because of Santana's influence, and pretty much every other factoid that Brittany's managed to keep in her head is because of Santana's patient tutoring.
When school gets out they find a place off campus to live, it's on the third floor of an okay building. It has a kitchen and a bathroom and a living room, and it only has one bedroom. The agent isn't even going to show it to them (she assumes they need two bedrooms) until Santana leans in and with an arm around Brittany's waist and a nuzzle to her cheek shows the agent that one bedroom is just fine, thank you very much. They sign the lease and begin to pack up their lives.
Brittany's twenty and she's probably more tired now than she's ever been in her life. She carries the last box up the stairs and surveys her surroundings. The place is a mess but it's hers and Santana's and not even the days worth of unpacking they have in front of them can ruin that for her.
The furniture is a crazy mix of old and new. There's stuff brought from their family homes like the couch (rescued from Santana's parents' den) and the chairs (Brittany's parents have just bought an all new lounge suite, no reason why Brittany shouldn't have the old stuff). There's stuff bought new like their bed, queen sized, room enough to spread out but small enough to warrant a lot of snuggling. And there's stuff donated by friends, like the bedside tables, a matching set made by hand, mostly by Finn and Puck but stained by Johan. Brittany loves every smudge and speckle on those bedside tables, because her baby brother did it all himself.
Their furniture shouldn't look good, shouldn't look right because it's all so different and nothing matches anything else, but it looks good and right because it belongs to them. And Santana's lounging in the doorway that leads to the kitchen, their kitchen, looking so delicious that Brittany just has to take the few steps needed to catch Santana by the arm, pull her in close and kiss her. It's the first kiss of many, the first kiss in the apartment that's theirs. They're grown up now and god, it feels good.
To hell with the boxes, Santana says. She says they have to christen the bedroom, and Brittany's not sure how you christen a room, but she knows how to christen a person, and she's pretty sure they'll need a priest or something because there was a priest when they christened Johan, so she reaches for the phone. But Santana giggles, pulls her back, whispers in her ear even though there's no one else around, and Brittany stops reaching for the phone, because Santana's version of christening sounds much more fun than having a priest over.
It's later. Santana's asleep, her long legs tangled with Brittany's the way they used to do when the bed was too small for both of them. Brittany's awake, because she can't quite believe they're here. Brittany's twenty and she's loved Santana since they were four and Santana gave half of the cookie back, but back then she never thought things could turn out so damn perfect. She stares up at the ceiling for a while, her hand still tracing up and down Santana's soft skin, and listens to Santana breathe. Every now and then Santana lets out a little moan or whimper in her sleep, tiny little noises of contentment that make Brittany smile. She closes her eyes and falls asleep finally with a smile on her face.