Fic: I Am, You Know
Title: I Am, You Know
Author: mallardeer
Pairing: Brittany/Santana
Spoilers: 2.4, “Duets”
Summary: What should have happened at Breadsticks. And beyond.
Author’s Note: I just banged this out within an hour of the episode ending, because that was the most unsatisfying ending I have ever seen. Super spoilers for “Duets.”
She saw her from the doorway, sitting alone, and her own heart cracked further. For a moment, she hesitated, but she steeled herself and marched into the restaurant. It was time to stop pushing the best thing in her life away.
But when she got behind her table, saw her pushing that lone meatball across the plate with her nose, she almost lost her resolve. “Stop being such a pussy,” she ordered herself, and before she could think about it, she had slid in across the table from her friend.
“Hey,” she said softly, and blue eyes cautiously met hers. “Got enough to share?”
“I’m mad at you,” was her reply, but Santana just slowly lifted a fork.
When Brittany made no move to stop her, she twirled some spaghetti onto it. “Here,” she offered, holding it out to her, but Brittany shook her head.
Santana sighed and dropped the fork. “You’re right. It’s better without the noodles as an excuse,” she said, and she leaned across the table and captured Brittany’s lips with her own.
“Santana,” Brittany protested weakly, but she moved around to Santana’s side of the table.
“I’m sorry. I am, you know,” she said, as Brittany rested her head on her shoulder.
“You are what?” Brittany asked absently, watching Santana twirl the spaghetti.
“Completely in love with you,” Santana whispered, and Brittany smiled. "But I make no promises about lady-babies," she added, and just reveled in Brittany's familiar laughter.
“San?” Brittany murmured, much later, when they were tangled up in the sheets and each other, and Santana’s head was heavy on her chest.
“Mmmf, what?” Santana muttered, and Brittany stroked her hair to soothe her.
“Sorry. I just… Am I a bad person?”
“What? Brittany, of course you’re not,” Santana said, lifting her head up.
“Artie made me feel like one,” she said forlornly, and Santana’s blood started to boil.
“Well, tomorrow, I’ll kill him,” she said, letting her head fall back to Brittany’s chest, really just wanting to go back to sleep.
“You can’t kill him; he’s in a wheelchair. Anyway, he said I was just using him for his voice and that having sex with him…was… Well, I didn’t really understand, but he made me feel bad for having sex with him, because it was supposed to be special, but...”
“Did he tell you he didn’t want to have sex?”
“No. I asked him if he wanted to get over Tina, and he said yes, and then I carried him to my bed-” Santana thought about interrupting at that, but decided it would be more prudent to let her continue. “-and I said before we did our duet, we were going to do it, and he…didn’t say no. He wanted to. He didn’t say anything about…specialness.”
“Then you’re not a bad person at all, babe. Artie wanted to have sex to forget about Tina, and it didn’t work, so now he’s blaming you. God, it’s not your fault all these little babies make such a big deal about sex.”
“Did Finn make you feel bad when you took his virginity?”
“Ugh,” Santana grunted, wanting to forget that had ever happened. “He mostly just didn’t know how to be grateful. But he was all whining about how it doesn’t mean anything. Why does it have to mean something? It’s supposed to be fun.”
“It is fun,” Brittany agreed. “But what about us?”
“What about us?” Santana asked warily.
“Does it mean something, when we do it?”
“Of course it does,” Santana said softly. “And I’m sorry I couldn’t admit it till now. And I’m sorry about Artie. I told him you were just using him.”
“Why?” Brittany demanded sharply.
“Because I was jealous,” Santana confessed. “I thought maybe you actually liked him.”
“I thought maybe I did too. Especially after you were mean to me. Also, I wanted you to be jealous. But I like you the best, I think.”
“I'm sorry. I like you the best too, Britt,” Santana promised, and Brittany pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head.
“You should tell me more often,” she said, and Santana chuckled and kissed Brittany’s collarbone.
“I will,” she promised. “I really will.”
Author: mallardeer
Pairing: Brittany/Santana
Spoilers: 2.4, “Duets”
Summary: What should have happened at Breadsticks. And beyond.
Author’s Note: I just banged this out within an hour of the episode ending, because that was the most unsatisfying ending I have ever seen. Super spoilers for “Duets.”
She saw her from the doorway, sitting alone, and her own heart cracked further. For a moment, she hesitated, but she steeled herself and marched into the restaurant. It was time to stop pushing the best thing in her life away.
But when she got behind her table, saw her pushing that lone meatball across the plate with her nose, she almost lost her resolve. “Stop being such a pussy,” she ordered herself, and before she could think about it, she had slid in across the table from her friend.
“Hey,” she said softly, and blue eyes cautiously met hers. “Got enough to share?”
“I’m mad at you,” was her reply, but Santana just slowly lifted a fork.
When Brittany made no move to stop her, she twirled some spaghetti onto it. “Here,” she offered, holding it out to her, but Brittany shook her head.
Santana sighed and dropped the fork. “You’re right. It’s better without the noodles as an excuse,” she said, and she leaned across the table and captured Brittany’s lips with her own.
“Santana,” Brittany protested weakly, but she moved around to Santana’s side of the table.
“I’m sorry. I am, you know,” she said, as Brittany rested her head on her shoulder.
“You are what?” Brittany asked absently, watching Santana twirl the spaghetti.
“Completely in love with you,” Santana whispered, and Brittany smiled. "But I make no promises about lady-babies," she added, and just reveled in Brittany's familiar laughter.
“San?” Brittany murmured, much later, when they were tangled up in the sheets and each other, and Santana’s head was heavy on her chest.
“Mmmf, what?” Santana muttered, and Brittany stroked her hair to soothe her.
“Sorry. I just… Am I a bad person?”
“What? Brittany, of course you’re not,” Santana said, lifting her head up.
“Artie made me feel like one,” she said forlornly, and Santana’s blood started to boil.
“Well, tomorrow, I’ll kill him,” she said, letting her head fall back to Brittany’s chest, really just wanting to go back to sleep.
“You can’t kill him; he’s in a wheelchair. Anyway, he said I was just using him for his voice and that having sex with him…was… Well, I didn’t really understand, but he made me feel bad for having sex with him, because it was supposed to be special, but...”
“Did he tell you he didn’t want to have sex?”
“No. I asked him if he wanted to get over Tina, and he said yes, and then I carried him to my bed-” Santana thought about interrupting at that, but decided it would be more prudent to let her continue. “-and I said before we did our duet, we were going to do it, and he…didn’t say no. He wanted to. He didn’t say anything about…specialness.”
“Then you’re not a bad person at all, babe. Artie wanted to have sex to forget about Tina, and it didn’t work, so now he’s blaming you. God, it’s not your fault all these little babies make such a big deal about sex.”
“Did Finn make you feel bad when you took his virginity?”
“Ugh,” Santana grunted, wanting to forget that had ever happened. “He mostly just didn’t know how to be grateful. But he was all whining about how it doesn’t mean anything. Why does it have to mean something? It’s supposed to be fun.”
“It is fun,” Brittany agreed. “But what about us?”
“What about us?” Santana asked warily.
“Does it mean something, when we do it?”
“Of course it does,” Santana said softly. “And I’m sorry I couldn’t admit it till now. And I’m sorry about Artie. I told him you were just using him.”
“Why?” Brittany demanded sharply.
“Because I was jealous,” Santana confessed. “I thought maybe you actually liked him.”
“I thought maybe I did too. Especially after you were mean to me. Also, I wanted you to be jealous. But I like you the best, I think.”
“I'm sorry. I like you the best too, Britt,” Santana promised, and Brittany pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head.
“You should tell me more often,” she said, and Santana chuckled and kissed Brittany’s collarbone.
“I will,” she promised. “I really will.”