Sins of My Youth (4/10)
Title: Sins of My Youth (4/10)
Author: only_because3/jeytonbrucasnaley
Rating: T for now
Pairing: Quinn/Santana, Quinn/Puck, Santana/Brittany
Length: 3277
Spoilers: Season 2
Summary: "God, that's such complete bullshit, especially coming from you." Quinn pulls her hand back sharply as Santana takes in a big gulp of air to continue. "Not winning prom queen is going to make you feel even more insecure about yourself for like, ever, even though that stupid piece of plastic doesn't mean shit. Brittany is my best friend. I've known her since we were eight. She's always going to matter, more so now that she…That I'm… That." She squeezes her eyes shut, still unable to say it out loud because there is no coming back from that. She's not a Fabray, even though she has spent the entire summer thus far in their house. She can't acknowledge something and then pretend it didn't happen.
Author's Note: This one is a bit shorter than the others and we're still at the point where things are being set up. Shit takes off in the next chapter before culminating in chapter 6 (which, Suckerpunch94, was the chapter I meant to tell you to keep any eye out for, not 5!). Also, updates might be taking a bit longer now that school has started back up but I would still go out on a limb to say updates shouldn't take longer than two or so weeks. Anyway, hope you all enjoy!
--
Today, Santana stops by before Puck. "Hey loser." She drops a paper bag on the counter in front of Quinn, who eagerly looks into it, smiling when she smells the bacon. "You didn't grab a lunch, so I figured I'd be nice or some shit like that."
"You sure you're not trying to cock block me," she teases, moving a few napkins out of the way to reveal her BLT.
Santana grins. "You've spent too much time with me and Puck if you're talking like that sober now." Quinn rolls her eyes as she drops the bag next to her purse at her feet. "And no, that's actually not why I stopped by. I'm meeting up with Brittany in 10." Quinn wrinkles her nose and Santana knocks over the stack of books she was sorting. "Don't do that." They hadn't talked too much about it the other day, Quinn only saying that she was sorry she completely shit on Brittany but she didn't exactly take back anything she said.
"I stand by my drunken statements," Quinn responds as she glares at the heap of books on the counter. "Unless she's telling you something new-"
"I really don't want to fucking hear it, Q. You keep talking about this, I keep asking about Puck." Quinn shuts up and then Santana lets out a breath. "I still can't believe you work here. It smells like ass."
"I love the way these books smell." Quinn picks up a worn paperback, holding it in front of Santana's face as she fans the pages. Santana backs away from the counter as Quinn laughs triumphantly. "You're not a reader," she says with a simple shrug. "You've always been more into music. It's why you smiled for a split second when I told you we were infiltrating Glee."
Santana starts rummaging through some of the bins with the newer books they have, leaving Quinn to resume her sorting. "I should take you to this record store on the outskirts of town. You'll probably think it smells weird but only because it smells like pot."
Quinn watches Santana carefully, glancing over at the clock briefly. "We could go after I get off, if you're done talking to Brittany." Santana nods, noncommittally, picking up a copy of Twilight before tossing it into the garbage next to the counter. "That was $2.50." Santana pulls out a 5 and throws it at Quinn. "S…"
Santana looks at the clock when Quinn does before letting out a breath. "I know, Quinn. I'll text you when we're done."
Quinn nods and when Santana opens the door asks, "It'd be easier if we were normal friends, wouldn't it? Friends who, you know, talked when they weren't drunk."
"Probably but we don't really do things by the book do we?" She gives Quinn a small smile before ducking out of the store.
--
"We shouldn't have done that." She turns around, eyes wide beneath her glasses, in the middle of their self help section.
"Uh," she starts, pushing her glasses on top of her head as she moves all the books in her hands into the crook of her arm. One slips and he catches it, earning him a small smile. "A hello would be nice, but I'll accept that instead." She takes the cookbook and shoves it into its rightful place on the shelf, glancing at him once more before putting most of the books in her arms on the cart next to her. "What is it you're talking about?" The next book is about yoga and her glasses drop down to the bridge of her nose as she tries to pass him. The aisles are narrow so not touching is nearly impossible, even as she pushes the books into her gut to try and limit the amount she touches him.
"You're not stupid," he grits out just as she passes him, his breath warming her skin. He's irritated but there is that same underlying tone he always uses with her, one that no one else has used with her. It's a sort of softness most wouldn't believe he's capable of and it almost runs a shiver down her spine. "I have a girlfriend."
She can't suppress the urge to roll her eyes. "You of all people should know that isn't a problem for me… Never used to be for you either." She pries two books apart and slips in the well work yoga book before searching two shelves up for the proper space to file the next book.
"I'm not like that anymore." It stings more than it should and her mouth fills with hatred for him, maybe a little resentment, and self loathing that never disappeared, even after her old nose and fat did. She bites the inside of her cheek to quell the urge to push him away, exhaling through her nose and rising to her tip toes. She angles the book on the edge of the wood, trying in vain to push it into its place without it falling back on her face. He sighs and covers her hand, the book finding purchase on the old wood. "Can you talk to me now?"
She pushes her glasses into her hair again, fixing him with a glare. "I'm kind of working. Maybe you should try talking to me outside of this bookstore."
He pulls his phone out. "Take your lunch now so we can talk."
"What is there to talk about?" She brushes past him, looking through her books for ones on this side of the aisle. "I don't know if you realize this, but I'm not dating anyone. If you were going to get guilty, you should've put a stop to us making out for 15 minutes." She picks up a book at random, unable to read the title without her glasses, and looks at him with her hip cocked out. "I'm not asking for anything from you. In fact, you have been the one pursuing me. I have nothing to offer you anymore Puck. If you came here to tell me not to read too much into what happened, then you wasted your time. I learned a long time ago not to expect much from you."
"Fuckin' a, Quinn," he sighs, running his hand through his grown out mohawk. "I know I used to be an asshole, but you weren't a fucking saint either. I really tried my best, even when you tried to keep me out of the picture. My best wasn't great but what did you fucking expect when you cut me down every five seconds? Who was there for you when Finn was dicking around? Who was there when Finn kicked you out? Who provided for you for moths? I snuck you bacon countless times and sat with your crazy ass at 4 am while you cried over stretch marks." Her chest is starting to feel tight again and the aisles seem to be closing in on her. She can't talk about any of this without wanting to throw up. "You never gave me a chance, Quinn. After all the shit we put each other through for months, we were okay. We had finally got to a good point and you just left." He shakes his head, gripping the hair on the curve of his head tightly and his body deflates in front of her. "Even if I didn't prove myself to you then, I would hope that you at least noticed that I'm not that boy who knocked you up anymore."
She feels herself crumble just so, air filling her lungs as he stares at her bare. She nods, running a hand through her hair tiredly, only to push her glasses further back and tangle them in her hair. She groans and pulls them free with only a few hairs being ripped from her head. He's right, she knows that. Out of everyone who was ever supposed to care about her, out of everyone who claimed to, he was the only one she believed, even if he'd let her down a few times before. All she ever seems to do is stop him from being everything she wants. "Why do you still give me the time of day?"
His eyebrows furrow. "How do you expect me not to?"
She takes a small, cautious step forward, wanting to smile when he bridges the gap and envelopes her, but instead she feels her eyes swell with tears. "I'm sorry," she mutters into his shirt, breathing in a mixture of soap, chlorine, and sweat that allows her to relax against him. "You should have given up on me a long time ago."
"You're Quinn Fabray," he answers simply. He says it like it will fix things and while he may know who that is, has ideas both right and wrong strewn together to create up the image of her in his head, but she's still not sure what that means. She's the one he fell for, not Lucy or whoever she is now, and she pulls back, going to the safety of her cart.
"Lauren's great too. She seems…" She doesn't want to say good for him because that means admitting that Lauren actually did what she couldn't. She sighs and lets her glasses fall open, slipping them on to her face as she skims the book in front of her. "Lauren's great."
"Lauren didn't have my baby." She grips the tattered copy of Dorian Gray and turns the corner to the fiction aisle. "You can't do that for ever, Quinn."
She's sitting Indian style on the floor, books circling her as she tries to wedge the book on to the shelf. "Is it always going to come down to that?" She shoves the book into place, tearing the cover a little bit more. To Noah Puckerman, mother would be a title permanently attributed to her, whether she went on to have more kids or now. "I'm Quinn Fabray," she spits out like she's just as sure of herself as he is.
"Maybe I could if you just talked to me about it. I can't just get passed the fact that we had a child together." She sees his old construction boots appear next to her, the final book back in its new place.
"If I tell you about seeing her will you leave me alone?" There's no verbal response but she assumes there was a nod she didn't see. "It was when she was three days old. I hadn't slept since I left the hospital and the house was so different…" Her hands fall into her lap and she shrugs, head shaking slightly. "She was crying, when I got there. She was wailing against Shelby's shoulder and she looked almost as bad as I did. I held her, managed to get her to eat which she hadn't done, and then sobbed." She doesn't know what more he wants or what exactly he's looking for and she takes a breath that inflates her entire body. "I spent the entire day there, with them. I watched Shelby do everything we should have and then, when Shelby managed to get some sleep, I took over. There wasn't much to do considering she was three days old but she fit, Noah." Her muscles ache for the weight to return, her arms doing her best to mime the way she held their daughter. "For the first time in three days I felt like I could breathe again." Her arms fall to her sides uselessly, tears blinding her. She's not sure what hurts more, the memory or everything else.
He slumps down next to her, his back to the shelves so he can look at her as he takes her hand into his. The guilt is overwhelming and she finds herself apologizing again until he kisses her like they both need it.
She may not know who she is but she knows for a fact that she's selfish. If she weren't, she'd remind him once more of his girlfriend instead of pulling him closer and nipping at his bottom lip.
--
Brittany's already at the park when she gets there. She's probably been here all day if Santana had to guess, because there's a small group of kids marching behind her, all smile and giggles. Her eyes flick to a group of mothers who cautiously watch the stranger entertaining their children, only looking away when she hears a bubbly voice call out her name, echoed immediately afterwards in high pitched voices. The mothers' attention is on her now and she digs her toe into the woodchips as Brittany leads the brigade in a circle around her. "Duckies my friend is here now so we have to take a break, okay?" The kids pout but then one of them quickly starts a game of tag and they disperse, leaving the two older girls to themselves. "I wasn't sure you'd come."
"Why wouldn't I have," Santana asks, shoving her hands into her pockets when Brittany goes to grab one. The blonde's face falls, the smile she was wearing around her new friends completely gone and she wants so badly to not do this. She doesn't want to hurt Brittany and everything in her needs to touch her again, but Quinn's words keep replaying the back of her head and she looks back down at the woodchips beneath her feet.
"Because you're mad at me," she whispers, voice almost silent on the noisy playground.
Santana shakes her head. "I'm not mad, Brittany." She hesitantly grabs Brittany's arm, frowning when she looks at her like a liar. "I promise you I'm not mad. I'm just…" Santana looks around and this is not the place they should be having this conversation. Fingers trail down pale skin until Santana can loop her arm through Brittany's, pulling her close without this looking like what it really is. "You're not mine anymore."
"I've always been yours, S." They walk towards an empty table near the edge of a soccer game, Brittany's fingers tracing patterns on her forearm. They're bodies are as close as they can get, their hips bumping together every once in a while and Brittany's all smiles again when it happens. Her fingers twitch to lace with hers and she imagines what their life could be like if it weren't for her. They could be alone in some city, far away from here, and she could grip Brittany's hand like the lifeline that it is without worry. She could rise on to her tiptoes and kiss Brittany in front of hundreds of eyes that don't give one flying fuck that they're both girls. A little kid, probably no older than four, runs past them with no shirt on, immediately followed by his mother who's yelling for him to stop running. Brittany bounces on her feet at the sight, her smile even wider and Santana thinks for the first time that they could even have that too. She's not sure how she would fair as a mother, especially since she can barely manage her own shit right now, but in the future, if Brittany's by her side she thinks it could work. It's hard to picture because she's fucking seventeen years old but if she tries hard enough, there's a vague outline of a tiny blonde with them and for now, that's all she thinks she can handle. The notion of babies with Brittany, of finally making it to the finish line, is enough to make her not completely lose it right now.
They slump down at the table, still side by side, and she knows this doesn't look friendly. This looks like more than that and her palms start to sweat as she looks around them. Nobody cares what they're doing, all too wrapped up in their own worlds to give a shit about what two teenage girls are doing. Still she untangles her arm from Brittany's, tucking her hair behind her ears just to have an excuse to pull away. "But you're not just mine," she says evenly, staring at the soccer game and pretending not to notice the space Brittany puts between them.
"You won't let me," Brittany accuses, bringing a leg up to rest her head on. "That's what I want, Santana. That's all I've ever wanted."
"Really? That's still what you wanted when you were with Wheels?" Brittany scoots back even more and god, why does she do this? Is it any wonder that once Artie and Brittany broke up, Santana still didn't get the girl?
"Don't say things like that. I wouldn't let him say things like that about you and I'm not going to let you do the same. He was good to me, Santana."
"He inadvertently gave you lice, he called you stupid, he accused you of cheating, and all around made you feel like shit. He wasn't good to you." She crosses her arms under her chest, watching as Brittany takes her attention off the loose thread on her top and on to her.
"I was cheating on him. With you. And the lice thing really wasn't okay. That was actually really horrible and my hair was greasy for weeks afterwards." She twists at her hair, noise wrinkling a bit at the memory before looking back at Santana. "He wasn't great," she says simply, shrugging slightly. "He didn't understand why I needed you. I needed you even when I was with him because you're going to be with me forever, aren't you?"
She exhales through her nose and nods, letting Brittany take her hand into her own. "That's kind of the plan," she admits and Brittany squeezes her hand.
"I'm sorry that I'm making you sad. I'm just so lonely now that you're not here anymore."
"I am here, Brittany. I didn't go anywhere." Brittany drops her hand gently but she might as well have pushed her away.
"No you're not. You spend all of your time with Quinn now. I never wanted to stop being your friend but once I said that we couldn't have sex, you left me."
"I don't know how to be around you and not touch you. I can't just be your friend, Brittany. We haven't been just friends in a long time. I love you. I can't talk to you in your room about random shit and pretend that it doesn't make me fucking terrified that someone else touched you the night before." Brittany stands up and Santana doesn't look at her. She closes her eyes, angrily wiping away the few tears that slip down her cheeks, and tries to hold on to the plan. Them together till the end. They'll make it past all of this bullshit and finally be happy.
Brittany's arms wrap around her shoulders and she jumps at the unexpected contact. "We did it for three years, Santana."
"That was different." That was before declarations and the realization that Brittany wasn't just some girl she was friends with.
"I have loved you since the first day we met and I've told you that. The only difference is that you haven't told me till now." Brittany presses a kiss into her hair. "I want you with me… It's up to you how we're together."
She lets out a ragged breath as Brittany walks away, her whole body colder than it was a few seconds ago. She debates what to do next, because she can't go home with her mom there or stay here because this is public for Christ's sake. She's pulls out her phone to text Quinn and tries not to wonder when they got this close.
Author: only_because3/jeytonbrucasnaley
Rating: T for now
Pairing: Quinn/Santana, Quinn/Puck, Santana/Brittany
Length: 3277
Spoilers: Season 2
Summary: "God, that's such complete bullshit, especially coming from you." Quinn pulls her hand back sharply as Santana takes in a big gulp of air to continue. "Not winning prom queen is going to make you feel even more insecure about yourself for like, ever, even though that stupid piece of plastic doesn't mean shit. Brittany is my best friend. I've known her since we were eight. She's always going to matter, more so now that she…That I'm… That." She squeezes her eyes shut, still unable to say it out loud because there is no coming back from that. She's not a Fabray, even though she has spent the entire summer thus far in their house. She can't acknowledge something and then pretend it didn't happen.
Author's Note: This one is a bit shorter than the others and we're still at the point where things are being set up. Shit takes off in the next chapter before culminating in chapter 6 (which, Suckerpunch94, was the chapter I meant to tell you to keep any eye out for, not 5!). Also, updates might be taking a bit longer now that school has started back up but I would still go out on a limb to say updates shouldn't take longer than two or so weeks. Anyway, hope you all enjoy!
--
Today, Santana stops by before Puck. "Hey loser." She drops a paper bag on the counter in front of Quinn, who eagerly looks into it, smiling when she smells the bacon. "You didn't grab a lunch, so I figured I'd be nice or some shit like that."
"You sure you're not trying to cock block me," she teases, moving a few napkins out of the way to reveal her BLT.
Santana grins. "You've spent too much time with me and Puck if you're talking like that sober now." Quinn rolls her eyes as she drops the bag next to her purse at her feet. "And no, that's actually not why I stopped by. I'm meeting up with Brittany in 10." Quinn wrinkles her nose and Santana knocks over the stack of books she was sorting. "Don't do that." They hadn't talked too much about it the other day, Quinn only saying that she was sorry she completely shit on Brittany but she didn't exactly take back anything she said.
"I stand by my drunken statements," Quinn responds as she glares at the heap of books on the counter. "Unless she's telling you something new-"
"I really don't want to fucking hear it, Q. You keep talking about this, I keep asking about Puck." Quinn shuts up and then Santana lets out a breath. "I still can't believe you work here. It smells like ass."
"I love the way these books smell." Quinn picks up a worn paperback, holding it in front of Santana's face as she fans the pages. Santana backs away from the counter as Quinn laughs triumphantly. "You're not a reader," she says with a simple shrug. "You've always been more into music. It's why you smiled for a split second when I told you we were infiltrating Glee."
Santana starts rummaging through some of the bins with the newer books they have, leaving Quinn to resume her sorting. "I should take you to this record store on the outskirts of town. You'll probably think it smells weird but only because it smells like pot."
Quinn watches Santana carefully, glancing over at the clock briefly. "We could go after I get off, if you're done talking to Brittany." Santana nods, noncommittally, picking up a copy of Twilight before tossing it into the garbage next to the counter. "That was $2.50." Santana pulls out a 5 and throws it at Quinn. "S…"
Santana looks at the clock when Quinn does before letting out a breath. "I know, Quinn. I'll text you when we're done."
Quinn nods and when Santana opens the door asks, "It'd be easier if we were normal friends, wouldn't it? Friends who, you know, talked when they weren't drunk."
"Probably but we don't really do things by the book do we?" She gives Quinn a small smile before ducking out of the store.
--
"We shouldn't have done that." She turns around, eyes wide beneath her glasses, in the middle of their self help section.
"Uh," she starts, pushing her glasses on top of her head as she moves all the books in her hands into the crook of her arm. One slips and he catches it, earning him a small smile. "A hello would be nice, but I'll accept that instead." She takes the cookbook and shoves it into its rightful place on the shelf, glancing at him once more before putting most of the books in her arms on the cart next to her. "What is it you're talking about?" The next book is about yoga and her glasses drop down to the bridge of her nose as she tries to pass him. The aisles are narrow so not touching is nearly impossible, even as she pushes the books into her gut to try and limit the amount she touches him.
"You're not stupid," he grits out just as she passes him, his breath warming her skin. He's irritated but there is that same underlying tone he always uses with her, one that no one else has used with her. It's a sort of softness most wouldn't believe he's capable of and it almost runs a shiver down her spine. "I have a girlfriend."
She can't suppress the urge to roll her eyes. "You of all people should know that isn't a problem for me… Never used to be for you either." She pries two books apart and slips in the well work yoga book before searching two shelves up for the proper space to file the next book.
"I'm not like that anymore." It stings more than it should and her mouth fills with hatred for him, maybe a little resentment, and self loathing that never disappeared, even after her old nose and fat did. She bites the inside of her cheek to quell the urge to push him away, exhaling through her nose and rising to her tip toes. She angles the book on the edge of the wood, trying in vain to push it into its place without it falling back on her face. He sighs and covers her hand, the book finding purchase on the old wood. "Can you talk to me now?"
She pushes her glasses into her hair again, fixing him with a glare. "I'm kind of working. Maybe you should try talking to me outside of this bookstore."
He pulls his phone out. "Take your lunch now so we can talk."
"What is there to talk about?" She brushes past him, looking through her books for ones on this side of the aisle. "I don't know if you realize this, but I'm not dating anyone. If you were going to get guilty, you should've put a stop to us making out for 15 minutes." She picks up a book at random, unable to read the title without her glasses, and looks at him with her hip cocked out. "I'm not asking for anything from you. In fact, you have been the one pursuing me. I have nothing to offer you anymore Puck. If you came here to tell me not to read too much into what happened, then you wasted your time. I learned a long time ago not to expect much from you."
"Fuckin' a, Quinn," he sighs, running his hand through his grown out mohawk. "I know I used to be an asshole, but you weren't a fucking saint either. I really tried my best, even when you tried to keep me out of the picture. My best wasn't great but what did you fucking expect when you cut me down every five seconds? Who was there for you when Finn was dicking around? Who was there when Finn kicked you out? Who provided for you for moths? I snuck you bacon countless times and sat with your crazy ass at 4 am while you cried over stretch marks." Her chest is starting to feel tight again and the aisles seem to be closing in on her. She can't talk about any of this without wanting to throw up. "You never gave me a chance, Quinn. After all the shit we put each other through for months, we were okay. We had finally got to a good point and you just left." He shakes his head, gripping the hair on the curve of his head tightly and his body deflates in front of her. "Even if I didn't prove myself to you then, I would hope that you at least noticed that I'm not that boy who knocked you up anymore."
She feels herself crumble just so, air filling her lungs as he stares at her bare. She nods, running a hand through her hair tiredly, only to push her glasses further back and tangle them in her hair. She groans and pulls them free with only a few hairs being ripped from her head. He's right, she knows that. Out of everyone who was ever supposed to care about her, out of everyone who claimed to, he was the only one she believed, even if he'd let her down a few times before. All she ever seems to do is stop him from being everything she wants. "Why do you still give me the time of day?"
His eyebrows furrow. "How do you expect me not to?"
She takes a small, cautious step forward, wanting to smile when he bridges the gap and envelopes her, but instead she feels her eyes swell with tears. "I'm sorry," she mutters into his shirt, breathing in a mixture of soap, chlorine, and sweat that allows her to relax against him. "You should have given up on me a long time ago."
"You're Quinn Fabray," he answers simply. He says it like it will fix things and while he may know who that is, has ideas both right and wrong strewn together to create up the image of her in his head, but she's still not sure what that means. She's the one he fell for, not Lucy or whoever she is now, and she pulls back, going to the safety of her cart.
"Lauren's great too. She seems…" She doesn't want to say good for him because that means admitting that Lauren actually did what she couldn't. She sighs and lets her glasses fall open, slipping them on to her face as she skims the book in front of her. "Lauren's great."
"Lauren didn't have my baby." She grips the tattered copy of Dorian Gray and turns the corner to the fiction aisle. "You can't do that for ever, Quinn."
She's sitting Indian style on the floor, books circling her as she tries to wedge the book on to the shelf. "Is it always going to come down to that?" She shoves the book into place, tearing the cover a little bit more. To Noah Puckerman, mother would be a title permanently attributed to her, whether she went on to have more kids or now. "I'm Quinn Fabray," she spits out like she's just as sure of herself as he is.
"Maybe I could if you just talked to me about it. I can't just get passed the fact that we had a child together." She sees his old construction boots appear next to her, the final book back in its new place.
"If I tell you about seeing her will you leave me alone?" There's no verbal response but she assumes there was a nod she didn't see. "It was when she was three days old. I hadn't slept since I left the hospital and the house was so different…" Her hands fall into her lap and she shrugs, head shaking slightly. "She was crying, when I got there. She was wailing against Shelby's shoulder and she looked almost as bad as I did. I held her, managed to get her to eat which she hadn't done, and then sobbed." She doesn't know what more he wants or what exactly he's looking for and she takes a breath that inflates her entire body. "I spent the entire day there, with them. I watched Shelby do everything we should have and then, when Shelby managed to get some sleep, I took over. There wasn't much to do considering she was three days old but she fit, Noah." Her muscles ache for the weight to return, her arms doing her best to mime the way she held their daughter. "For the first time in three days I felt like I could breathe again." Her arms fall to her sides uselessly, tears blinding her. She's not sure what hurts more, the memory or everything else.
He slumps down next to her, his back to the shelves so he can look at her as he takes her hand into his. The guilt is overwhelming and she finds herself apologizing again until he kisses her like they both need it.
She may not know who she is but she knows for a fact that she's selfish. If she weren't, she'd remind him once more of his girlfriend instead of pulling him closer and nipping at his bottom lip.
--
Brittany's already at the park when she gets there. She's probably been here all day if Santana had to guess, because there's a small group of kids marching behind her, all smile and giggles. Her eyes flick to a group of mothers who cautiously watch the stranger entertaining their children, only looking away when she hears a bubbly voice call out her name, echoed immediately afterwards in high pitched voices. The mothers' attention is on her now and she digs her toe into the woodchips as Brittany leads the brigade in a circle around her. "Duckies my friend is here now so we have to take a break, okay?" The kids pout but then one of them quickly starts a game of tag and they disperse, leaving the two older girls to themselves. "I wasn't sure you'd come."
"Why wouldn't I have," Santana asks, shoving her hands into her pockets when Brittany goes to grab one. The blonde's face falls, the smile she was wearing around her new friends completely gone and she wants so badly to not do this. She doesn't want to hurt Brittany and everything in her needs to touch her again, but Quinn's words keep replaying the back of her head and she looks back down at the woodchips beneath her feet.
"Because you're mad at me," she whispers, voice almost silent on the noisy playground.
Santana shakes her head. "I'm not mad, Brittany." She hesitantly grabs Brittany's arm, frowning when she looks at her like a liar. "I promise you I'm not mad. I'm just…" Santana looks around and this is not the place they should be having this conversation. Fingers trail down pale skin until Santana can loop her arm through Brittany's, pulling her close without this looking like what it really is. "You're not mine anymore."
"I've always been yours, S." They walk towards an empty table near the edge of a soccer game, Brittany's fingers tracing patterns on her forearm. They're bodies are as close as they can get, their hips bumping together every once in a while and Brittany's all smiles again when it happens. Her fingers twitch to lace with hers and she imagines what their life could be like if it weren't for her. They could be alone in some city, far away from here, and she could grip Brittany's hand like the lifeline that it is without worry. She could rise on to her tiptoes and kiss Brittany in front of hundreds of eyes that don't give one flying fuck that they're both girls. A little kid, probably no older than four, runs past them with no shirt on, immediately followed by his mother who's yelling for him to stop running. Brittany bounces on her feet at the sight, her smile even wider and Santana thinks for the first time that they could even have that too. She's not sure how she would fair as a mother, especially since she can barely manage her own shit right now, but in the future, if Brittany's by her side she thinks it could work. It's hard to picture because she's fucking seventeen years old but if she tries hard enough, there's a vague outline of a tiny blonde with them and for now, that's all she thinks she can handle. The notion of babies with Brittany, of finally making it to the finish line, is enough to make her not completely lose it right now.
They slump down at the table, still side by side, and she knows this doesn't look friendly. This looks like more than that and her palms start to sweat as she looks around them. Nobody cares what they're doing, all too wrapped up in their own worlds to give a shit about what two teenage girls are doing. Still she untangles her arm from Brittany's, tucking her hair behind her ears just to have an excuse to pull away. "But you're not just mine," she says evenly, staring at the soccer game and pretending not to notice the space Brittany puts between them.
"You won't let me," Brittany accuses, bringing a leg up to rest her head on. "That's what I want, Santana. That's all I've ever wanted."
"Really? That's still what you wanted when you were with Wheels?" Brittany scoots back even more and god, why does she do this? Is it any wonder that once Artie and Brittany broke up, Santana still didn't get the girl?
"Don't say things like that. I wouldn't let him say things like that about you and I'm not going to let you do the same. He was good to me, Santana."
"He inadvertently gave you lice, he called you stupid, he accused you of cheating, and all around made you feel like shit. He wasn't good to you." She crosses her arms under her chest, watching as Brittany takes her attention off the loose thread on her top and on to her.
"I was cheating on him. With you. And the lice thing really wasn't okay. That was actually really horrible and my hair was greasy for weeks afterwards." She twists at her hair, noise wrinkling a bit at the memory before looking back at Santana. "He wasn't great," she says simply, shrugging slightly. "He didn't understand why I needed you. I needed you even when I was with him because you're going to be with me forever, aren't you?"
She exhales through her nose and nods, letting Brittany take her hand into her own. "That's kind of the plan," she admits and Brittany squeezes her hand.
"I'm sorry that I'm making you sad. I'm just so lonely now that you're not here anymore."
"I am here, Brittany. I didn't go anywhere." Brittany drops her hand gently but she might as well have pushed her away.
"No you're not. You spend all of your time with Quinn now. I never wanted to stop being your friend but once I said that we couldn't have sex, you left me."
"I don't know how to be around you and not touch you. I can't just be your friend, Brittany. We haven't been just friends in a long time. I love you. I can't talk to you in your room about random shit and pretend that it doesn't make me fucking terrified that someone else touched you the night before." Brittany stands up and Santana doesn't look at her. She closes her eyes, angrily wiping away the few tears that slip down her cheeks, and tries to hold on to the plan. Them together till the end. They'll make it past all of this bullshit and finally be happy.
Brittany's arms wrap around her shoulders and she jumps at the unexpected contact. "We did it for three years, Santana."
"That was different." That was before declarations and the realization that Brittany wasn't just some girl she was friends with.
"I have loved you since the first day we met and I've told you that. The only difference is that you haven't told me till now." Brittany presses a kiss into her hair. "I want you with me… It's up to you how we're together."
She lets out a ragged breath as Brittany walks away, her whole body colder than it was a few seconds ago. She debates what to do next, because she can't go home with her mom there or stay here because this is public for Christ's sake. She's pulls out her phone to text Quinn and tries not to wonder when they got this close.