Fic: The World is a Stage - Part 3/?
Title: The World is a Stage 3/?
Author: agentb81
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Brittany/Santana, Brittany/OC
Rating: 15 for language
Word Count: 2800
Disclaimer: Glee is copyrighted and belongs to Ryan Murphy and Fox. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Use of other personalities is not a reflection of their real lives and is completely fictional.
Summary: Sort of AU/Future fic, the lives of Santana and Brittany in their early twenties.
Spoilers: References to Season 1.
A/N: Character back stories will be disclosed as the fic progresses and I’m running with the whole AU aspect of this fic, even though it touches upon events of Season 1, I just hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I am writing it.
Previous chapters here: Part 1 / Part 2
The brunette was sat in the makeup chair, her hair already styled, she was preparing for her first scene with Rachel Berry. While the thought did not exactly thrill her, Santana had a job to do and she was going to prove to the other actress she was damn good at it. In the mirror she watched as her best friend entered the room.
“San?”
“Yeah?”
“Your interview’s here.” Quinn said, hanging on the door jam.
“Already? I’m not done here yet.” Santana whined.
“She can sit right there.” The blonde offered pointing to a couch opposite the Latina.
“You’ll be here right?” Santana asked. “I need you to stop me saying anything stupid.”
“You did ok on Ellen.” Quinn stated with a frown.
“Quinn? Please?”
“Sure.” The blonde smiled, she went to retrieve the interviewer. Moments later, Quinn reappeared with a tall blonde woman, mid to late twenties. She was dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt. Santana was currently having her lips coloured, the other woman reached forward to shake her hand.
“Hi, I’m Ashley Blake from Marie Claire.”
“Santana Lopez.” The brunette offered, extending her hand.
“Can I start by saying I’m such a huge fan.” Santana rolled her eyes.
“Thank you.” Santana widened her eyes as her mascara was being applied.
“You can take a seat right here.” Quinn said, patting the sofa beside her.
“Thanks.” Ashley settled herself, took out her Dictaphone and note pad and began with the questioning. “Ok, in the TV series The Precinct you play a cop, describe Jen Ramirez.”
Santana sighed, good start, she thought carefully about her answer, “She’s a cop.” Santana laughed, eliciting a giggle from Ashley. It was Quinn’s turn to roll her eyes, so many times she had seen strangers eager to please Santana, even if it meant laughing at her half hearted jokes. “Ok, that’s obvious. I think Jen is tough and extremely focused; she’s very compassionate and loyal and will always have your back. She’s also very lonely and troubled having lost her husband, the love of her life, so tragically.” Santana said.
“How do you differ to that?” Ashley asked. Quinn snorted. “What?” Santana snarled. Quinn’s eyes widened briefly, her face depicting a ‘you know what’ look she had perfected from working so closely with the brunette. Ashley waited patiently, oblivious to the interaction between the friends.
“I guess I’m a bit more toned down, I don’t think I have the mental strength to do that job and cope with what she sees every day.”
“Do you do all your own stunts?”
“Yeah pretty much, there have been one or two where the director’s been like, ‘woah you are not doing that’ and all the whining and pleading in the world won’t change their minds, but you know, I’m not an explosives expert.” The brunette laughed.
“How do you feel about making the Maxim Hot 100?”
“Are you allowed to ask that question from another magazine?” Santana asked suspiciously.
“Probably not, but I’m curious of the answer, I can change the wording to something like, you’ve been voted one of the sexiest women in the world, how do you feel about that?”
“I feel great about that. But also very honoured.”
“Do you work out?” the blonde asked, sweeping her eyes over the Latina.
“I have to, my job requires a lot of physical work, running after perps and arm wrestling criminals is demanding. I enjoy it too, it gives me great satisfaction when I’ve finished a tough workout.”
“What’s your diet like?”
“My diet?” Santana asked.
“Yeah, I’m trying to ask questions that the audience would like to know about you, you’re beautiful, have a great figure and are fit and we want to know your secret.”
“Well, I eat ok, I guess I could eat more vegetables, but I make up for it with fruit smoothies.”
“And cocktails.” Quinn muttered.
“Fabray, would you mind butting out?” The brunette said. The makeup artist had about finished with Santana who gave an approving nod in the mirror before she left the room. Santana pulled the towel from around her neck and dropped it on the floor beside her chair. She shimmied into a more upright position and crossed her toned legs, an action that didn’t go unnoticed by the glaring magazine employee.
“Sooo are you single?”
Santana raised an eyebrow, “I am currently single.”
“Currently single, does that mean there’s someone in the pipeline?”
“What?” Santana asked, “What sort of a question is that?” she looked at Quinn who had donned her ‘calm down’ expression.
“Ok,” Ashley started, “What’s your type?”
“Sweet, sensitive, caring, funny.” Santana responded wistfully with a sweet smile on her face. Every time someone would ask to describe her type, she would list qualities harboured by Brittany.
“Right, I think we have enough.”
“Really? Because that didn’t seem like much.” Santana said.
“No, yeah, it’s fine, really. I’ll have a copy faxed over when it’s typed up.” Ashley said, packing her belongings into her bag.
“Right, ok.” Santana said getting to her feet. Quinn stood also, moving quickly across the floor and out of the door.
“Wow.” Ashley said as she stood and took in the brunette’s appearance, she was wearing a short denim skirt and black tank top, her hair was mussed lightly and hung over her shoulders, “You really are beautiful.” Santana blushed slightly, receiving compliments in such a confined space was not something she was used to.
“Thank you.” Santana offered genuinely looking up at the blonde, she frowned slightly as a sudden image of Brittany flashed across her mind. She closed her eyes momentarily, before returning her attention to the woman before her.
“Do you think maybe you’d like to get a drink or something some time?” Ashley asked shyly.
“Oh, wow, I err, I’m not . . .”
“Gay? Bi-sexual? It’s fine I’m sorry I asked.”
“Look, I’m flattered really, but I don’t even have time for my friends right now, my schedule is pretty crazy.”
“It’s ok, I understand. I gotta go. Thanks for the interview, it was nice to meet you.”
“You too. And thanks. Quinn will show you out. FABRAY!” she yelled, Quinn popped her head back round the door.
“You bellowed?”
“ Can you show Miss Blake out please?”
“Sure.” Quinn motioned for Ashley to follow her, she obliged, avoiding eye contact with Santana on her way out. The brunette sighed, she lived one hell of a crazy life.
++
“So right, you know your friend Santana Lopez?” Bryan asked excitedly whilst pouring orange juice into a glass.
“Yeah?” Brittany sighed, it was all she had heard since Bryan had discovered she was once best friends with the Emmy nominee.
“Is she like related to Jennifer Lopez?” he asked excitedly.
“D’uh.” Was Brittany’s immediate response, “Santana’s like from Lima, Ohio, Jennifer’s from like the Block, I don’t think Santana’s even been to the Block. Is the Block even in America or is it like some secret place like Narnia?”
“I don’t know Britt, I’m pretty sure Jennifer Lopez is American or something.” Bryan offered. ‘Santana would know’ Brittany thought.
“I have to go Bry, I got a meeting about some dancing. I’m not sure what time I’ll be home.” She said.
“I’ll be at work. I’ll see you later babe.”
“Bye Bryan.” Brittany said as she walked around the table and placed a kiss on his head.
“Oh Britt?”
“Yeah?”
“Next time you use the laptop can you not leave chocolate all over the keys?”
“Oh right, my bad. Later Bry.” She shouted over her shoulder as she rushed through the door, slamming it shut behind her.
The blonde sat quietly on the wooden chair, sipping at her Frappucino, it was a nice hot day in the city and a cool drink was just what she needed. Whilst sat on her own, Brittany had time to think, the past few days had rushed by like a tornado, leaving a mass of emotional destruction in its wake. What was she doing here? She was happy, she had a home, she had a career, she had friends, she had Bryan. But somehow it was not enough. For five years there had been a piece missing from her life that was a jigsaw, one piece that would make it all complete. All she wanted was her best friend back. Brittany needed her. She had proved she was her own person, but now it was time to take that step. She had thought long and hard about the past, about the talks, the laughs, the fights, the decisions. ‘No regrets’ she had always told herself. Her head was hurting, Brittany couldn’t tell if it was from over thinking or brain freeze from the frozen drink she was sucking on intently. Her thoughts were interrupted by a figure standing before her, she looked up and smiled wide with joy, jumping up, she nearly knocked Mike over with a bone crunching hug.
“Hey Brittany.” He squeaked out.
“Mike!” exclaimed the blonde.
“It’s been a long time Britt, how have you been?”
“Good thanks Mike, how about you?”
“Awesome, I’ve been great, things couldn’t be better.” Mike smiled.
“Excellent, that should make this conversation easier.” Brittany laughed as she sat down. Mike followed suit and sat opposite her.
“I have to say I was intrigued by the five hundred word sentence you sent as an email.” The dancer laughed.
“I still haven’t quite grasped how to use a computer.” The blonde admitted.
“Don’t ever change Britt.”
“I don’t know how to.” She admitted. Mike laughed warmly.
“That’s a good thing. You still with Bryan?” he asked.
“Yeah.” She sighed.
“Are you sure about that? Trouble in paradise?”
“No, yeah, I don’t know. I love him.”
“Isn’t that enough?”
“Yeah.” Brittany said without conviction, Mike accepted the answer and moved on.
“So, you want a job?” Mike smiled.
“Yeah.”
“Can’t you get any work?”
“I teach a few classes at IDA, but I miss the dancing and I kinda need the money.” Brittany said, her eyes downcast, she wasn’t the best liar, so avoiding eye contact was imperative in her quest.
“You know I’m working on a movie right?”
“A movie? Really? That’s awesome.” If anything, Brittany did surprised very well.
“I don’t know if I can offer you dancing Britt, we’ve already cast the dancers.”
“Oh, right ok.” The blonde said dejectedly.
“I can offer you a job as my assistant, as it’s a musical, it’s a lot to take on myself.”
“Really? Your assistant, that’s an important job.” Brittany summarised.
“Yeah but you’re a fantastic dancer, you coach at IDA, you’d be a huge asset.”
“That’s one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said to me.” The blonde smiled sadly.
“There’s just one thing.” Mike began seriously, “Santana Lopez is in the movie, you’ll be working with her, is that going to be a problem?” Brittany stared blankly at her friend, hearing it out loud hit her like a freight train. “Britt?”
“What?” The blonde blinked. “Oh, right, no, I’ll be fine, it’ll be fine.” She said. ‘Will it be fine? Or was this one huge mistake?’
“Cool, ok, well drop by later, I’ll sort out your contract and security pass. You’ll need to get up to speed on the choreography, I’ve brought some dvd’s of the moves for you to study. Here.” Mike said, handing over several dvd’s.
“Thanks Mike.”
“You’re welcome. We’ve got a rehearsal this evening, so when we’ve gone through the essentials we can get started. I don’t expect you to have everything down by then, it’ll give you the opportunity to meet the guys and familiarise yourself with the style.”
“That sounds cool.” Brittany smiled, wondering just how her first meeting with Santana will go down.
++
Santana was left reeling following her scene with Rachel, several times had she exhaled a string of Spanish expletives at the other girl’s inability to deliver her lines. The Latina also felt a smug sense of satisfaction, Rachel Berry had always sold herself as the ever professional and a committed performer in high school, almost rubbing the other kid’s faces in her shameless self-promotion. This time, Santana got to shine as the outstanding performer, leaving a rather miffed Rachel Berry by the sidelines. The Latina had plenty of time to calm down, spending much needed personal time in her trailer, she listened to her iPod, nothing too taxing, just enough to take the edge off her anxiety. Santana found herself listening to one particular song that reminded her of Brittany, or more specifically of their situation following their departure. Tears silently fell as she listened to the lyrics of ‘I Got You’ by one of her favourite vocalists and new friend, Leona Lewis.
‘Go ahead and say goodbye, I’ll be alright. Go ahead and make me cry, I’ll be alright. And when you need a place to run to, for better or worse, I got you.’
Santana had come to accept eventually that they weren’t together anymore. That despite the struggle she had survived and was indeed alright and that no matter what if Brittany ever needed her, Santana would be there, because deep down, the blonde would always be a part of her. That, in all honesty, was the hardest part to deal with, particularly as now they led completely separate lives. She lay staring at the ceiling, wondering what might have been. The brunette had been here so many times before, a million different scenarios playing before her.
The track changed, she recognised the electronic keyboard intro, frowning slightly, not remembering having uploading this particularly song to her iPod. The lyrics kicked in, ‘Turn around, every now and then I get a little bit lonely and you’re never coming round. Turn around, every now and then I get a little bit tired of listening to the sound of my tears . . .’ Santana knew this particular Eighties power ballad and she knew exactly what the lyrics meant and while she had felt every word at some part in her life, it was one of the most cringe-worthy songs ever recorded. Bonnie Tyler had a great voice but, ‘wait a minute’ Santana thought, she bolted upright, realisation forming on her face, her eyes narrowed, her eyebrows furrowed, her teeth clenched.
“BERRY!” the Latina yelled at the top of her lungs, no sooner had she bellowed she was standing in front of her trailer, hands on hips a death glare pointed towards a shaking, wide eyed Rachel Berry no more than ten yards away.
“Yes?” she squeaked.
“Why the fuck do I have your fucking awful cover songs album on my fucking iPod?” the brunette all but screamed.
“It was a gift Santana, I hope that you would accept it with a little more grace than that.”
“Berry!” Santana blurted with exasperation, “You stole my fucking iPod and violated it.”
“Technically I borrowed it as I promptly returned it where I found it in your trailer.”
“You went in my trailer?”
“Santana please . . .”
“Please what Rachel?” had this been a cartoon, steam would be seen coming from the Latina’s ears.
“I didn’t violate your iPod. If you knew the true meaning of the-”
“Ohmygod Berry, you don’t get it!” Santana interrupted impatiently. She sighed, “My ears are bleeding.”
Rachel raised an eyebrow and placed a hand on her hip, “That is highly unlikely.” She answered.
“I want an apology.”
“I’m sorry Santana.” Rachel began, the Latina smirked, “That you can’t appreciate a friendly gesture and a flawless production.” It was Rachel’s turn to smirk, she smiled knowingly as she tilted her head upwards in triumph and began to walk away. Santana scowled, not to be outdone she started after the other girl.
“Ladies.” The executive producer’s assistant approached. “Dance studio. Now.” Santana huffed, she would have to wait to dish out her revenge and started toward the dance studio. Glancing sideways, she had to do a double take and then squinted as she thought she saw a flash of familiar blonde hair. Shaking her head fervently, she continued on her way, the lyrics to ‘I Got You’ swirling around her head. ‘Ha, anything’s better than Total Eclipse of the Heart . . .Turn around bright eyes . . . oh crap.’
To be continued . . .