Looking Up (or when Santana finally got her shit together)
Title: Looking Up (2/3)
Pairing: Santana/Brittany (primarily)
Rating: PG-13 for now
Summary: Santana and Brittany are undeniable. But so is the fact that they live in Lima, Ohio.
They’re laughing and Santana pulls Brittany into the house that the victory party for the football team is being hosted at. Their hands are linked tightly. When Santana looks up, she looks directly into glacier blue eyes and smiles before turning to rummage through the fridge at the far end of the kitchen.
Brittany hikes herself up onto the counter; oblivious to the constraints that her tiny skirt should put on her. Santana is far from oblivious when she realizes the red that she’s seeing is Brittany’s favorite red lace thong. She quickly turns away and swallows hard as she hears people throughout the house and the crowd in the back yard.
Now is not the time.
A sharp giggle sounds from somewhere in the house lets loose and a drunken masculine whisper of; “Quiet, they’ll hear.” drifts from the stair case. Santana’s knuckles tighten on the refrigerator handle at the accumulating reminders that they are not alone. A slender pale hand slides over hers and a kiss is pressed against her shoulder from behind.
She jerks away.
“Stop.” She hisses, cutting her eyes toward the blonde.
Brittany looks confused, her hand hovering above empty air.
“What, what did I do?” Her voice trembles, Santana is hardly ever short with her. Everyone else had to tread cautiously when it came to Santana, but not Brittany. Brittany was exempt from that particular rule.
“Just stop. Alright?” Santana says nervously as people pass them heading into the living room. But it isn’t hesitant, it comes out agitated. She is on edge; there are too many people around for her to be comfortable.
“Santana,” Brittany puts her hand on Santana’s shoulder.
“God, why are you being so stupid?!” Santana says, brushing the hand away. She freezes, realizing what she has just said. She has never said anything like that, especially not that word. Not to Brittany.
She looks up and sees that those glacier blue eyes are wet with tears.
Fuck.
~*~
Even though she’s surrounded by WMHS social elite and on her third cup of beer, she can’t get Brittany’s face out of her head. A part of her finally admits defeat and she begins looking for Quinn. The former head Cheerio is sitting by herself. Puck and Finn are nowhere to be found and Quinn has a defeated expression on her face. She is texting someone avidly on her phone.
Santana sits next to her and they stay silent for a while. At least until Quinn reaches over and squeezes her hand.
“Let’s go.” She says, pulling Santana up. It is a rare moment, but Santana follows without speaking a word.
They make their way through the throngs of people who have showed up and Santana just wants to go home and go to sleep. She wants to go to Brittany’s house in the morning and hold the other girl tight and whisper hundreds of apologies in her ear. She wants to take back the fact that she hurt Brittany when it was understood that she was the blonde’s protector.
When Puck is suddenly in front of them she wants to drop-kick him so hard that his stupid mohawk comes off. Quinn glares at him.
“Puck I really don’t want to-” She cuts herself off as Finn appears behind the other boy’s shoulder with an air of panic that matches the grim look in Puck’s eyes. Aside from classes, football, and glee, the two boys have not been seen willingly in one another’s presence since sectionals. The sight of them together is surprising enough that even Santana’s shitty mood is put on hold.
“I just got a call from my mom, she’s working night shift. Mike Chang’s in the hospital.” Puck says lowly.
The two girls are taken aback.
“What happened?” Quinn asks with shock.
“He got into a car accident.” Finn says, the words tumbling quickly and awkwardly from his lips. Any animosity between the teens is forgotten in this moment.
“Is he okay?” Santana asks, worry furrowing lines into her forehead.
“My mom doesn’t know too much,” Puck admits. “but he was talking when they brought him in.” The girls look hopeful at that.
Finn shuffles, “Mike left the party early.” He can’t seem to look either of them in the face. “He um, he was taking Brittany home. She was with him when they got hit.”
His admission is met with silence.
Santana is certain that her heart has leapt from her chest and shattered somewhere around her feet. But inaction is what got her here in the first place, so she instead leaps and grabs Puck’s keys from his hand, ignoring his startled, “Hey!”
She makes it five steps toward the door, powering through people she couldn’t give a damn about. She is only stopped when Finn, in a display of his freakish height and strength, plucks her straight off of the ground.
“Get the fuck off of me!” She roars, kicking out at air. “I have to go! I have to be there!” Her brain is running on high speed and she is more than desperate. Appearances mean nothing to her because they may have cost her Brittany. Quinn reaches up and takes Santana’s face between her hands firmly.
“Santana stop.” Quinn is fearful on the inside, but it is nothing compared to the raw pain that the other girl is so clearly experiencing. She is almost feral in her desperation to rush to Brittany’s side. “You cannot drive. You’re not going to be any help to Brittany if you end up wrapped around a tree.” Her voice is low and serious. Aside from Brittany, she is the only person who can successfully talk Santana down. She is suddenly the Quinn that commanded the Cheerios with an iron fist.
Santana collects herself as Finn slowly sets her on the ground, his arms still wrapped firmly around her. Oddly enough it feels more like a hug than a constraint. But Santana knows that this is ridiculous. No one would be dumb enough to hug her. Not even Finn.
She takes Quinn’s outstretched hand because it’s the only thing tethering her to this moment. The teens make a quick exit from the now silent party. No one notices the attention that they have garnered, least of all Santana.