Fic: Flashbacks 31/?
When Brittany wakes up her throat is so dry it’s practically sand paper, her eyes aren’t much better either, but that’s not surprising as she near enough cried out her weight in water. She figures she’s made Santana’s leg dead as when she sits up Santana springs up and jogs on the spot before jumping up and down lightly, it’s a cute scene and she smiles openly in the moment free of thoughts of home and how her family is doing. She catches sight of Camden in the corner of her eye, he’s staring at Santana, his face is blank and she doesn’t understand why, for moment she’s sure she’s seen his face contort with hatred but then he faces her and smiles softly, bags under his eyes portraying his worry and reminding Brittany that it’s 11 o’clock now. She must have been asleep for a fair whack of time.
She breaks her gaze away from the clock to find Santana has bought her a glass of water, she takes it from her, their fingers grazing each other in the hand over. Camden coughs and Brittany gulps down her drink.
‘Well it’s late, we should be going Brittany.’
‘Oh, right, yeah, I guess.’
Santana can see Brittany’s reluctant, can see the grief threatening to spill out again, and she doesn’t want her to go through it alone. Brittany would have Camden, but he’s not her, and Brittany needs her. Plus she doesn’t want that bastard being Brittany’s knight in shinning armour in her hour of need or whatever, not that she thinks Brittany would be taken in by him, but she just doesn’t trust him.
‘You’re tired, you can stay here.’ Santana refrains from adding ‘with me,’ Camden already looks fit to burst.
‘No, we can’t do that Santana. We’ve intruded enough.’
‘Honestly, it’s no bother. I’ve got the guest rooms already made up anyway. It’s been a heavy day, last thing you want to do is drive home.’
‘We don’t live hours away.’
‘No, I know, it’s more the emotional upheaval of moving again though.’ She looks pointedly at Brittany who is already looking on verge of crumbling as the realisation sinks in again after waking up. Camden looks torn, he can see Brittany wants to stay, but it’s the last thing he wants do to.
‘Brittany, what do you want to do?’ He’s kneeling in front of her, his hands resting on her knees, squeezing them friendly.
‘I want to stay. You can go, if you want to be at home.’ She looks a little ashamed at the answer and smiles at Camden to soften the blow, Santana smirks in the corner, and Camden nods dejectedly.
‘I’ll stay here too, I’m not leaving you.’ He looks over at Santana who looks smugly back at him, accentuating the last three words as he stares daggers at her. He leans up and captures Brittany’s lips quickly, catching her off guard, and looks back at Santana who merely blinks, unphased, and examines her nails.
‘That’s sorted then, you can have the guest room, it’s next to the bathroom upstairs.’
She leaves the room, and Camden can feel Brittany tense up, as though the glue keeping her together has come unstuck. He tugs her up from the sofa, embraces her in a hug and guides her upstairs to the bedroom, which has already gotten pyjamas laid out. Santana seems to get everything right. Brittany goes to the bathroom and she changes there as when Camden next sees her she’s kitted out for sleep, she gets in bed silently, staring up at the ceiling, avoiding eye contact. Camden undresses and gets in the other side, and the instant his head connects with the pillow Brittany turns her back on him and faces out of the bed, he supposes he can’t expect her to want contact with him all of a sudden, but he thought she may have wanted a reassuring arm around her as she slept, his arms can be no less reassuring than Santana’s, and Brittany appreciated it earlier. Camden shuffles over a little and strokes his hand down Brittany’s side, laying it on her hip for a split second, before it is jerked off as Brittany moves away, and curling into herself to signify that she doesn’t want him touching her. He resolves that this is going to be a slow recovery, and one that is very much on Brittany’s terms, as he turns over so that his back mirrors Brittany’s. His phone flashes on the side at him, he knows it’ll be Olivia, he wants to answer it, to run into somebody’s warm embrace, but Brittany needs him, he will stand by her in this turbulent time, he will be the supporting husband he was raised to be, it’s just a matter of whether Brittany wants to use his shoulder to cry on, it’s there none the less, it will always be there for Brittany. Camden assumes he fell asleep with thoughts of Brittany and Olivia battling in his brain, and fell sound asleep, because when he wakes up in the morning at 11.37 a.m. he’s alone in bed, the opposite side stone cold and the linen crisp, as if Brittany hadn’t slept in it at all.
She can hear him snoring softly, his phone lights up intermittently showing his steady form rising and falling in its dull glow. She can’t sleep, images of home swim before her eyes, she imagines it’s hollow, empty, the warmth has been sucked out, her dad is grave, her brother is weeping, the family photo on the side table mocking them, her mum’s not there, she’s not there. She needs to be there, she needs to be with them, she feels so useless here, so alone. She shivers as the empty space between her and Camden grows cold. She needs Santana. She’s outside Santana’s door before she knows it, having succeeded in silently leaving the guest room, a slither of light from under the door tells her Santana’s still up. She thinks about knocking but she never used to, plus the sound might wake Camden. Santana’s got files over her bed, her pen scrawls out notes in the margins of whatever it is she’s reading, her hair is tied back and her reading glasses sit on the end of her nose, she surveys Brittany over them when she becomes aware of her presence. If it was any other day, one that wasn’t so maimed by the cruelty of death, Brittany would remark that she looks like a stern school teacher, and they’d take up their old parts, reprise the roles that had them calling out in ecstasy, tumbling over the edge, panting in exhaustion; flashbacks of Santana bending over her at her desk, intoning that she hasn’t been studying hard enough, she’s been naughty, she needs to learn her lesson, flood back and she grins mischievously at Santana.
‘Brittany, I’m taking my glasses off, don’t think I don’t know what that grins about.’
‘How do you do that?’
‘What?’
‘Get inside my head.’
Santana shrugs in response and collects her papers up, throwing them on the floor beside the bed.
‘Don’t act like you don’t have some romantic answer to my question.’
Santana smiles and breathes out a soft laugh.
‘You’re in mine now, hey?’
‘Yep.’
‘That’s because you’re you and I’m me.’
Brittany shakes her head in smiling agreement, ‘B and S.’
‘S and B…Are you getting in, or just hovering over my bed for the night?’
‘That would be creepy.’
‘Yeah, so get in already.’
Santana pulls the covers back for Brittany to slide in next to her. It’s not the circumstances she would have imagined. That the first time in for what feels like an eternity, and oddly just yesterday at the same time, that Brittany’s back in her bed, would be the day her mum died. She didn’t imagine having to hold Brittany’s crumbling form until the early hours, didn’t imagine that the firm grip on her arm would be born out of grief and not longing. It’s a bittersweet reunion, but it’s a reunion none the less.
He wakes up to an empty bed, Brittany is up already; he can hear a muted buzz from downstairs signalling activity. He trips his way down stairs with nothing but his boxers on and strides into the kitchen, heading straight for Brittany and giving her a kiss on the cheek. Santana gives him a dirty look, and peers disgustedly at his bare chest; Camden places his hands behind his head and stretches so that his chest pushes out at Santana who is sitting opposite him.
She’s always freaking opposite him, the fucker does it on purpose, and now he’s rubbing/scratching his chest, it’s disgusting. This is her house, he’s at her dining table, he should show some manners. Ordinarily Santana thinks he would but after yesterday he’s determined to see her off, which without a doubt he will fail in, because she is going nowhere. He attempts to catch Brittany’s eye who is stirring ice cream round her bowl, making it smoother, and so he places his hand on her arm and squeezes it. She glances up quickly, smiling briefly, before she moves her arm away. He goes back to making a show of his exposed upper half. It’s pathetic and she’s so obviously winning his little game this morning; her little finger is lightly touching Brittany’s, her foot is running it’s way up and down Brittany’s exposed calf, and Brittany’s eyes flicker whenever she makes a movement and her loose dressing gown exposes her breasts that little bit more. Santana smiles smugly at Camden.
‘Ice cream for breakfast, eh? Do you not stock food Santana?’ His tone is mock friendly, but there’s resentment there; the desire to start a fight; he’s a complete fool if he thinks he can outwit her.
‘Well no, I just keep ice cream to lure the kiddies in; young blood tastes so much better.’
‘We’ll have to get some garlic to keep her away Britt.’
‘It’d take more than that to keep me away.’
‘Oh, I’ll just have to stake you then.’ His eyes narrow in what Santana assumes it meant to be a threatening way, but instead he looks as though his contacts have popped out and he’s squinting to find them.
‘Santana doesn’t like steak unless it’s seasoned and spicy.’ Brittany chirps cheerily, attempting to neutralise the change in atmosphere, now is not the time for this, things could go too far. Santana can’t help but push it though.
‘Too true, I like hot things.’
A little of Brittany’s ice cream falls onto her chin as she raises her spoon and it’s at just such a perfect moment that Santana wonders whether Brittany’s done it on purpose. Santana wipes it away with her finger before bringing it to her mouth and sucking it slowly. Brittany smiles innocently enough, but her pupils are suddenly two sizes bigger, Camden is an odd mixture of horrified and raging. Santana winks at him before announcing she’s going to take a shower and leaving the room. Camden folds his arms and stares hard at Brittany, but she’s turned her head round to watch Santana’s retreating form.