FIC: Slave [1/1]
Title: Slave
Author: Sulkygeek
Pairing: Brittany/Santana with references to Mike Chang/Brittany, Puck/Santana, Matt/Santana
Rating: R [in spite of the vaguely pornographic implication of the title, I think it’s more a moderate-to-hard R]
Summary: Brittany and Santana and some gayness.
Length: 7000
Spoilers: Through ‘Sectionals’
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Slave
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You are a slave to the one you love because you love [her], and you are a slave to the one you love, because [s]he loves you back.
--Kahlil Gibran
--
Brittany was not as dumb as she pretended to be, but she was considerably dumber than she wanted to be. She came from a family of ‘smart’ people who viewed her almost curiously, the way a swan might view her ugly duckling. When she was younger and she just seemed completely unable to get her schoolwork, there were a host of trips to the pediatrician to test her hearing, the optometrist to test her eye sight and the therapist to test if she was just being willful and lazy. The last one was really the last resort, because anyone who knew Brittany, knew she was neither willful nor lazy. When she was ten, her father pronounced her “sweet, but dim” at the dinner table, as though she weren’t even there, and from that moment on, there were no expectations of her in the family. At least, nothing that was academic.
Her parents stopped pushing her to do better in school, and for a while, it was kind of a relief. She was tired of the tearful arguments she had with her parents about why she wasn’t trying harder. She was doing the best she could, but no matter how much she pleaded her case, her parents never seemed to believe her. But while her parents pushed her siblings to do better in school and frowned over report cards and bad exam grades, her parents expected nothing of her, and just seemed relieved when she was able to pass to the next grade at the end of the school year. Her older brother called her a retard, and her older sister pronounced her “special needs” and even her little sister, who was 11 months younger proclaimed even she was smarter than Brittany.
For a while, when she was in primary school, she tried really hard to understand the assignments and to study as much as she could. She did this on her own because she wanted to prove that she wasn’t as stupid as they thought. She didn’t just want to be the sibling her parents called on to do the chores around her house because the other kids were studying or had finals or whatever. She wanted to prove she was more than that.
But when she was eleven and in the fifth grade, Mrs. Rosser started doing weekly quizzes which were switched around after completion and graded by one another. Mrs. Rosser would read the quiz question out loud, and then supply the right answer. Every once in a while, a student might call out an answer they felt was a fair alternative and Mrs. Rosser would say whether or not that was acceptable.
On one of these occasions, Mrs. Rosser just had everyone pass back their papers to the person sitting behind them. Scott Stewart, sat behind her and had to grade her paper. He preceded to call out every incorrect answer Brittany had on her paper (and there were many) and most of the answers were pretty far-fetched, but she just felt she had to put something down. The class giggled every time Scott called out an answer and pretty soon, even Mrs. Rosser couldn’t conceal a tiny smirk. It was also a fair imitation of the times when Brittany herself called out an answer she wasn’t sure was acceptable, and she had to deal with her classmates rolling their eyes at how dumb she was.
“How many points is it if someone just drew in a sombrero?” Scott asked.
“None, Scott,” Mrs. Rosser said, unable to hold down a tiny chuckle.
Everyone laughed and Brittany burned with outrage, because she’d never done that, but now everyone believed she had. She felt the urge to just punch him in the face, but she didn’t want everyone to know how much it stung, either, because she knew, she knew she was dumb, and she didn’t think she had any right to be upset about something that was true.
Brittany tried to laugh it off as having not studied, but the truth was, she had studied. But the quiz was one of those fill-in-the-blank type tests, not multiple choice and she just couldn’t remember anything. But by the time they had to pass in the quiz, everyone in the class knew how poorly she’d done on the test and she burned with shame and embarrassment.
(Scott Stewart grew into one of those boys who was really good-looking, athletic and smart, to boot. In high school, he would ask her out with a cocky smile and she would politely decline despite the fact the memory of what he’d done to her in fifth grade still burned fresh in her mind. There’d also been an incident in seventh grade, and she could not believe he’d even ask. She politely declined by explaining she was dating Mike Chang, and Scott was immediately dismissive and grabbed her by the wrist to insist she go out with him. This caused Santana to deliver a swift kick to his shin. A few hours later, Mike would get into a fight with Scott over this and Brittany could not squelch a tiny bit of glee at the way Mike summarily kicks Scott’s ass. When she and Mike sat on the trunk of Mike’s car as she looked at the abrasions on his knuckle and gently kissed them, she softly thanked him and he took her hand and said, “you’re my friend, and you’re my girl.” She would have totally slept with him for the first time that day, but he just drove her home and told her he hoped she would have a good night and he’d see her tomorrow. Some part of her would always love Mike Chang after that.)
She met Santana in middle school because they had the same home room. She’d seen Santana over the summer at a drill team try out, and Brittany knew they’d both made it, but drill team wouldn’t start until school started. Already they were on different paths. Santana was in all the accelerated classes while Brittany was on the regular track (“average” the students called it.) They’d happened to take seats next to each other, so when their homeroom teacher passed out their schedules, Santana glanced over at Brittany’s classes, took in the face that Brittany was “average” and sniffed dismissively. They didn’t talk, and Brittany didn’t even really see Santana again until after school when the drill team met.
Coach Evans preferred crisp, military movements for drill team over the more fluid, dancer-like movements that other drill teams in other schools practiced. Brittany didn’t care either way, and just adjusted herself according to whatever it was she had to do. She’d taken dance classes as long as she could remember, because it was the one of the few areas she excelled in that her siblings did not. Her parents seemed almost relieved by her talent, first in dancing, and then as they would discover later, in singing. Her parents don’t respect artists as a general rule, but they were just glad she was good at something.
Coach Evans and fifteen other middle-school aged girls lined up to practice their routine and it was only after they were done when everyone else was out of breath and complaining about how hard it was, and only Brittany was impressively eager to continue onward, that Santana looked at her with a measure of respect.
Santana turned to look at her, sweaty and out of breath, bangs plastered to her forehead. She was eleven years old, short and skinny and woefully underdeveloped, but she had a certain presence that was disconcerting, even to adults.
“Show me,” Santana said. “Show me how you did that.”
They were inseparable after that.
--
Brittany’s mother always seemed vaguely worried about their friendship for the first year, and she made a few comments to Brittany about Santana, describing the other girl as “a little prickly.” Brittany knew her mother was only looking out for her, but she’d been a little insulted on Santana’s behalf.
“Not with me, Mom,” Brittany insisted.
But always her mother would go back to being worried, like Santana had some ulterior motive or something.
“It just seems like a very unlikely friendship, honey,” her mother would say now and then.
“She’s nice to me,” Brittany would insist.
It wasn’t until the middle of seventh grade Brittany’s mom just seemed to understand. It was a wintry February day when Brittany’s parents, Santana’s parents and Scott’s father were called into the principal’s office over allegations that the three of them had started a food fight in the cafeteria.
Brittany and Santana’s parents were appalled and apologetic while Scott’s dad just seemed angry.
Brittany and Santana sat next to each other, pointedly away from Scott Stewart, the jerk. Scott was hilariously covered in milk, food and other condiments, but Brittany and Santana were relatively food-free. There’d been a tator tot in Santana’s hair that Brittany pulled out on the march to the principal’s office and Brittany had some ketchup on her shoe, but other than that, they’d escaped the food fight relatively unscathed.
Santana sat with her arms crossed defiantly in front of her and she had a bloody, burst lip. She looked angry enough to spit, and she was definitely not going to cry. Brittany, on the other hand, sat with her shoulders slightly hunched, her hands in her lap and she felt that feeling when she told her big brother and sister that She. Was. NOT. Crying. But really, she was on the verge of bursting into tears.
The principal demanded answers, but Brittany and Santana were tight-lipped, despite warnings from each set of their parents to talk about what happened.
“You just wait until we get you home, Santana,” her mother threatened.
Santana shrugged defiantly.
Even Scott kept his mouth shut. Until, that is, his father began making threats of his own. Scott Stewart quickly crumpled.
“They started it!” he insisted. “I was just talking to them, and Santana just hit me. I didn’t want to hit her back, so I was just trying to push her away, but then Brittany jumped on my back!”
Brittany was outraged because that was not how it happened at all and opened her mouth to protest, but she felt Santana touch her shoulder. Brittany turned to look at Santana, and the dark-haired girl shook her head. Brittany shut her mouth and resumed her position of starting resolutely at the floor.
The disciplinary meeting went on for a while, and Brittany and Santana accepted full responsibility for the fight with Scott and the food fight that ensued as a result. But then Scott made a critical mistake as he and his father were leaving, with Brittany, Santana and their respective parents left to discuss sanctions.
“All I did was call her a retard, we all already knew that,” he said, pointing at Brittany derisively. “What’s she even doing in this school and not in some special school with the other retards?”
In the blink of an eye, Santana, who was previously stoic and silent, got out of her chair so quickly, the chair pushed back and her body was almost parallel to the ground as she leaped at Scott.
“Shut up!”
Brittany got up to grab Santana around the waist, and had to pull Santana upward so that Santana’s feet swung in the air.
“You got what you deserved, you crazy bitch!” Scott yelled at Santana, pointing to her busted lip which he’d previously claimed no knowledge about.
Needless to say, Scott and his father were not excused and all three students were disciplined.
It was only then that the whole story came out.
Brittany and Santana were eating lunch together, Scott approached them and asked Brittany out, Brittany said no, Santana told him to fuck off, which was when Scott called Brittany a retard. Santana stood up, poured her just-opened carton of milk on top of his head, he responded by punching her in the mouth. Santana stood up and leaped across the table at him and he and Santana struggled for a couple of seconds. Brittany got up and jumped on his back and he responded by ramming Brittany several times into a wall in an effort to dislodge her, except Brittany’s arms were freakishly well-developed even then, and she held on for dear life because he still had his hands on Santana. Santana responded with fury and grabbed a discarded plate of ketchup and tator tots and rammed it into his face. They had a crowd of people by then and that was when the food fight ensued and moments later, school personnel finally rushed in to separate them.
As they left, Santana poked her finger into Scott’s rib cage, leaned in close and whispered. “if you ever tell anyone what you said about Brittany, I’ll kill you.”
It was after that Brittany’s mother seemed to understand what drew her daughter to Santana, and seemed to get why they were friends. And Brittany’s mother never made another comment about how their friendship seemed so unlikely or how different they were from each other.
The next day at school, Santana was dismissive about her busted lower lip, but became enraged all over again when she saw bruises on Brittany’s back as they changed for drill team practice. Brittany had been pulling her t-shirt over her head when Santana stopped her by demanding if the bruises on her back were from Scott ramming her repeatedly into a wall when she jumped on his back.
“Was that from Scott?!” she demanded.
Brittany shrugged and tried to look at her back by turning her head and immediately felt stupid when she saw the look on Santana’s face.
“Does it hurt?” Santana asked, reaching tentatively out to touch Brittany’s bare back.
“No,” Brittany said, tugging her shirt down. Santana pulled her hand away as Brittany did so. Brittany stood up and touched Santana’s lip. “Does this hurt?”
Santana gave her a crooked smile. “Please. Do you really think a little troll like that could ever hurt me? It was completely worth it.”
Brittany grinned at her and pulled Santana into an impetuous hug. “You’re my best friend,” she declared.
Santana held her. “You’re my best friend, too,” she said softly.
As punishment for the fight with Scott, Brittany and Santana were forbidden by their respective parents to hang out with each other outside of school for a month. It felt like an eternity. When the month long prohibition on Brittany and Santana time expired, Brittany’s mom dropped her off at Santana’s house and Brittany and Santana’s mom shared a long look before they waved at one another and Brittany’s mother drove away. Santana’s mom put her arm around Brittany’s shoulder. “Welcome back, Brittany,” she said kindly.
Santana ran down the stairs and she jumped over the last two steps. Santana and Brittany hugged each other, gave each other a long look and then started laughing. “Let’s go upstairs,” Santana said, linking her arm with Brittany’s.
--
They were fourteen when they had their first kiss. It was the first real kiss for both of them, and it wasn’t a big deal. It was Santana’s idea, but Brittany was quick to agree.
“We’re just practicing for when we get boyfriends, right?” Brittany asked.
Santana paused. “Right.”
Brittany grinned at her. “Cool.”
Their lips brushed together, and for a while, it was simply lips against lips, but then Brittany’s lips parted and her tongue poked hesitantly out and Santana did the same.
It was warm and moist, and left each of them breathless. It was almost everything a first kiss should be.
Brittany felt something kind of clench in her stomach, but in a good way. It wasn’t until a few years later, after she’d kissed a few boys and kissed Santana some more that she realized how much she’d liked that first kiss.
“The boyfriend you don’t have yet is going to love you,” Brittany told Santana, because she felt she should say something complimentary.
Santana paused. “Yeah,” she said.
Brittany peered at Santana. “Are you okay?” she asked, confused because Santana didn’t look okay anymore, she looked kind of upset and a little sad.
“Yeah.”
Brittany reached for Santana’s hand shyly. “Can I kiss you again?”
Santana smiled and it was genuine. “Yeah.”
They would kiss a few more times that year. It wasn’t every time they got together or anything, but they kissed enough times for Brittany to know what Santana liked and for Santana to know what Brittany liked. Brittany thought that this was probably the whole point of kissing another person.
--
By the time Brittany and Santana reached high school, they have been friends for three years and best friends for two. They met Quinn Fabray when the other freshman Cheerios that Coach Sylvester approached to join the team get to meet the upperclassman. From that point on, Quinn joined their twosome, and their duo became a trio. But some part of Brittany always considered Santana to be her first best friend.
Santana met Puck freshman year and Brittany met Mike, but only Santana decided to actually date Puck. Brittany stayed friends with Mike, and it wasn’t until they reach their sophomore year that Mike kissed her at a party and they started dating. Once Santana started to date Puck, they didn’t have an excuse to practicing kissing for their boyfriends anymore and Brittany found herself missing it. She still needed the practice, because she didn’t have a boyfriend yet.
One night during freshman year, everyone gathered at Puck’s house and everyone drank cheap beer that Puck had in his garage. Brittany excused herself to go to the bathroom and she heard someone try to open the door while she washed her hands. Brittany was the third child in a family of four children with two parents who had very little respect for privacy. Brittany was conditioned to lock the door behind her when she went to the bathroom.
“I’ll be out in a second,” Brittany called out.
The person on the other end of the door tried to open the door again, but of course, it was locked.
“It’s locked,” Brittany explained “I’ll be out in a second.” She was a little irritated.
Brittany dried her hands on a pristine white hand towel and opened the door to find Santana on the other side.
“Santana,” Brittany said, feeling her irritation drain away. “You must really have to go. If I’d known it was you, I wouldn’t have even locked the door.”
Santana’s eyes were glassy from the beer. Brittany recognized that look because her father’s eyes looked like that all the time after dinner when he and her mother had a few drinks with dinner and then he had a few more drinks after that.
Santana didn’t say anything. She just walked into the bathroom, shut the door behind her, locked it and then turned to Brittany, pulled the blonde toward her and kissed her.
After that, it didn’t matter that Santana was dating Puck. They started kissing even more after that. “He is not my boyfriend,” Santana told her. “So we can keep practicing.”
--
Freshman year was the first year Rachel Berry matriculated into public school rather than her small K-12 private school. The rumor was that Rachel kicked out for questioning authority too much at her school and was thus forbidden from returning there for high school. Brittany knew her from dance classes when they were little, and Rachel was a little bossy and prone to doing the same thing over and over again until it was perfect, but Brittany liked her anyway. When they were little, they’d been friendly toward each other in dance classes, and Rachel routinely complimented her on her technique, and Brittany did the same. But they’d never been friends, because they never went to the same school.
The rumor around school was that Rachel was gay because her fathers were gay, and a lot of the Cheerios were very derogatory about this.
“Why is everyone so mean about Rachel’s dads?” Brittany asked Santana one day as they painted their toenails together in Santana’s room. “I knew Rachel when we were little, and she’s nice.”
“Because they’re gay,” Santana said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“So?”
“Do you know what gay means?” Santana asked.
“Yes,” Brittany said. “It means Rachel’s dads like boys. They used to hold hands at our dance recitals. But they stopped because other parents complained.”
“Well, not everyone thinks being gay is okay,” Santana said.
Brittany paused. “But…isn’t what we do kind of gay?” she asked softly.
Santana’s eyes widened and she capped her bottle of nail polish and tossed it to the side. “What we do is not gay. I am not gay. We’re just practicing, okay? We’re just kissing. We’re not having sex with each other or anything, and if you’re a girl, you have to have sex with another girl to really be gay. I will never be gay. And you’re not gay either. We’re not gay!”
Except that Brittany kind of suspected she was.
“Okay,” Brittany said. “We’re not gay.”
“No,” Santana said tersely. “We’re not.”
--
By sophomore year, Santana was dating Puck but all it really consisted of was making out, occasionally having sex and sexting one another. He’s a decent guy, and Santana knew it, but he was too invested in pretending to be an asshole.
Santana and Brittany joined Glee with Quinn, and although Santana kind of loved Glee, she thought it was possibly a grievous miscalculation, because Glee brought Brittany and Mike Chang even closer together. Brittany and Mike had been circling each other since the first day of freshman year when gangly Mike bumped into Brittany and he blushed and apologized profusely. Brittany, who was charming and sweet and made friends with nearly everyone, was nice about it and Santana watched as Brittany introduced herself and Santana to Mike. Within three minutes, Santana could see the look of flustered attraction all over Mike’s face and when Santana and Brittany walked away, Brittany commented “he’s so cute.”
Brittany and Mike stayed just friends for all of freshman year, but by the summer time, things were clearly becoming more heated.
By the time they started sophomore year, Brittany and Mike were clearly a couple, even if neither of them admitted to it. When Scott fucking Stewart approached Brittany one day in the hallway to ask her out, Santana was appalled that he didn’t seem to remember they’d once gotten into a fight, back in middle school. Brittany politely declined and explained that she was dating Mike and moved to walk away. But then Scott fucking Stewart grabbed Brittany by the wrist, and all Santana could hear was Brittany quietly say “ow” and Santana didn’t even think, she just reacted by kicking Scott as hard as she could in the shin.
Santana met Mike’s eyes, who was standing at his locker as she and Brittany walked to their respective classrooms, which also happened to be right next to each other. He looked questioningly at them and Santana saw that Mike was about to approach them when the bell rang and they all had to get to class.
Mike knew what happened by the end of school, and Santana and Puck stood off to the corner to see Mike punch Scott until Scott dropped to the floor. Mike spat on the ground, wiped his arm across his mouth and told Scott if he ever came near Brittany again, he’d kill him and then Mike walked away.
Puck chuckled. “Quiet Mike,” he commented with an amused grin.
“Yeah,” Santana said softly.
Santana saw Brittany running toward Mike. Brittany stopped when she saw him and stood on tip toe to cup his face with her hands. She peered around Mike and saw Scott who was on his knees on the ground, clutching his stomach and trying to get up. Brittany put her arm around Mike and the two walked off.
Mike was hard to hate, even for Santana who pretty much hated everyone. Unlike Brittany who liked everyone until they gave her a reason not to, and even then, it took a lot, Santana generally hated everyone on the planet other than her parents, her brothers and Brittany. Even Quinn did not escape being hated every once in a while. It didn’t even matter if someone was generally pretty likeable, she still hated them.
So even though Mike was hard to hate, Santana still found herself immeasurably jealous of him. She was particularly jealous of him the day kept watch of the hallway while Brittany snuck into her older sister’s room to steal condoms for a date with Mike. Brittany’s older brother had moved out the house to go to college by then, and so Brittany’s older sister’s reign of terror began. If Brittany got caught going into her sister’s room, there would be hell for Brittany to pay and Santana knew that she couldn’t protect Brittany from Brittany’s own family. So she just kept watch.
Brittany stuffed the condoms into her pocket and she ran out of her sister’s room giggling. She grabbed Santana by the hand and they ran to Brittany’s room where she collapsed onto the bed, still laughing. Santana could not help but smile, despite the fact the only reason Brittany was so amused was because she stole condoms to have sex with Mike.
Santana flopped onto the bed next to Brittany and felt herself being pulled toward Brittany. She laid next to Brittany until Brittany stopped laughing.
“What’s Mike like in bed?” Santana asked softly. “Is he…good to you?”
They’ve never really talked about the boys they’ve been with. Santana lost her virginity to Puck during their freshman year. It was at a party, and although it was consensual, it was painful and he didn’t seem to care that it hurt. The more they did it, the better it was until it actually started to feel good. Really good. But every time she did it with Puck, she was left feeling emptier. When she dumped Puck and moved onto Matt, who was Mike’s best friend, so that meant double dates with Mike and Brittany, she thought maybe it would be different. But it wasn’t. Matt was sweet to her and it still felt good, but once it was done, she stopped feeling good, just like with Puck.
“He’s very good to me,” Brittany said. “It feels good.”
“Good,” Santana said softly.
And she meant it. It was a relief that if felt good for Brittany. Santana only wanted good things for her.
Santana rolled onto her side and stroked Brittany’s cheek.
Once Santana touched her cheek, Brittany also rolled onto her side to look at Santana.
“I’m so happy he makes you feel good,” Santana whispered. She couldn’t help herself, she moved in even closer and brought her lips against Brittany.
Brittany kissed her back eagerly, and it was this eagerness that compelled Santana to deepen the kiss, to slip one of her hands under Brittany’s shirt to cup a breast. They kissed for a few minutes and then they broke away, breathless.
“You make me feel good, too,” Brittany breathed. “So…” Brittany swallowed visibly. “So good.”
Santana felt her heart rate increase, her pulse quicken and she wanted nothing more than to make Brittany feel as good as possible.
“Take off your shirt,” Santana breathed.
Brittany paused and she swallowed hard. “Won’t that make us gay?” she whispered. “You don’t want to be gay.”
“Let’s not think about it right now.”
They have sex that day, and it was everything Santana wanted it to be. It was everything she thought about since she was fourteen years old and kissed Brittany for the first time. If she were honest with herself, she knew she probably wanted it when she was even younger, before she even should have been thinking about sex.
She remembered the first time she saw Brittany, in home room, in sixth grade on the first day of middle school. Brittany had been pretty, even then. If Brittany ever went through an awkward stage, it was before Santana ever knew her. Santana was just coming out of her awkward stage when they met. She was still short, skinny and underdeveloped, but she’d started to become pretty and she knew it. On that first day, Brittany was just another pretty girl, and Santana had known many pretty girls.
But when she saw Brittany move in that drill team practice, she’d been impressed and Santana had been difficult to impress, even back then. Brittany was graceful and fluid, her movements economical. But when Coach Evans’s routine called for military sharpness, Brittany easily complied.
She didn’t know what it was about Brittany that had her so smitten and enchanted for so many years. Yes, Brittany was pretty, but Santana had never particularly concerned herself with pretty girls. Well, when Santana was honest with herself, she had. She’d noticed how pretty certain girls were from an early age, but she’d always thought that was normal. (When she was older, she realized she probably always liked girls, but it was one particular girl that got her crazy and obsessed) But it wasn’t just Brittany’s prettiness that just drew her in, because a lot of people were pretty. Quinn was pretty. Rachel Berry, though Santana did not want to admit it, was pretty. Mercedes and Tina were both pretty. It wasn’t just that Brittany was pretty, although Santana could concede (to whom? To herself?) that it didn’t hurt. Some days when she saw Brittany, she felt warmth pool between her thighs, and when she made out with Brittany, she felt herself getting wet enough that she almost resented Brittany for doing it to her.
So it wasn’t just that Brittany was pretty. And it wasn’t just that Brittany was talented, both as a singer and as a dancer. She was also a pretty good artist-- Santana had kept every note Brittany ever passed her since they were in the sixth grade and most of them started out as class assignments, so there were doodles on the corners. Brittany was really talented. It wasn’t just that Brittany was genuinely and unerringly sweet and nice. Sweet and nice were not characteristics that Santana typically admired in other people. It wasn’t just that Brittany was loyal, although loyalty was a quality that Santana admired. It wasn’t just that Brittany was a good kisser, although again, it didn’t hurt. It wasn’t just that Brittany was goofy and cute in a completely endearing way, because again, goofiness was not a quality Santana typically found to be cute or endearing. And God help both of them, but it wasn’t Brittany’s brain that Santana found to be attractive. Santana admired intellect and although Brittany was smart in her own way, because she was perceptive and kind when people really needed her to be, she wasn’t going to be joining the Academic Decathlon any time soon, either.
But when you put everything together-- the beauty, the talent, the kindness, the sweetness, the goofiness, the fact that Brittany really needed a lot of help with homework, you got Brittany. And Brittany meant…well, practically everything to Santana.
They laid together after their first time with each other, sweaty and breathing hard.
Brittany was quiet but laid on her side, one arm across Santana’s waist. Santana stared up at the ceiling, and felt tears come to her eyes.
Sex with Brittany felt so good and not just in the physical sense with Puck and Matt. She wanted to lay down with Brittany forever, and they didn’t even need to have sex. They could just stay like this forever. And it would be okay.
But it was not okay. This was Lima, not Los Angeles, New York or Boston. Rachel Berry was regularly taunted for being gay and that was only because she had two gay dads. That girl was clearly into Finn and Puck, so Santana was reasonably sure Rachel was straight. In fact, everyone was reasonably sure that Rachel was straight, but they still taunted her about being gay because of her gay dads. Rachel took it all in stride, and never denied it, and simply asked, “so what if I were?” If Rachel, who was straight, could be taunted for being gay just because she had two gay fathers, Santana had no idea what would happen to her if it was ever revealed that she actually was gay. She was gay and she was in Glee Club, she might as well have attached a target to her body. She was not going to go down this way.
Sex with Brittany only proved to Santana three things with absolute certainty: one, she was gay, two, she was head over heels in love with Brittany.
And three? She didn’t want to be gay, and she didn’t want to be in love with Brittany.
“Why are you crying?” Brittany asked, sitting up. She looked worried and panicky. “Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you?”
Santana swallowed hard and shook her head. “No, Brit. It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m just...” she cleared her throat. “You can’t tell anyone about us, okay?”
Brittany nodded. “Okay,” she said softly.
“You keep dating Mike, and I’ll keep dating Matt and we’ll be fine,” Santana said.
“Okay,” she said quietly.
“Sex isn’t dating,” Santana said. “Dating each other would make us gay. And we’re not gay. We can’t be gay.”
“Okay,” Brittany said softly.
Afterward, Santana could only let herself have sex with Brittany if she pretended to be drunk first. It wouldn’t take much, maybe a beer or two, or a wine cooler or something. She wasn’t drunk, but she wanted to be able to blame it on the alcohol if they ever got caught. Brittany seemed to know Santana wasn’t really drunk, but she didn’t say anything about it. And they went on that way, they would be at a party, or Santana would sneak over some vodka or Brittany would pilfer some of her parents’ alcohol (they had a lot of it) and they would drink a little bit of it, just enough for Santana to convince herself she’d lowered her inhibitions and was doing something she wouldn’t when she was sober. And then they would have sex.
One day, in the middle of their junior year, Santana tried to kiss Brittany while they studied for Spanish at Santana’s house, but Brittany pulled away.
“I don’t want to hurt Mike like this,” she said softly. “It would hurt his feelings.”
Mike and Brittany were still dating, but Santana had long ended things with Matt.
Santana really didn’t care about Mike’s feelings. She cared about hers. And Brittany’s.
“Well, how do you feel about this?” she asked Brittany.
“I don’t want to hurt Mike,” Brittany said. “It makes me feel bad to hurt Mike.”
“So don’t tell him and we don’t have to let him find out.” She moved to kiss Brittany again.
Brittany pulled away again. “He told me last night that he loves me. I can’t do this to him. Don’t you remember how hurt Finn was when he found out about Quinn and Puck?”
Santana made a face. Even though she didn’t love Puck, and half the time, she didn’t even like him, she still thought it was shitty of Quinn to sleep with Puck when technically, she and Puck had been dating.
“Do you love him?” Santana asked quietly.
Brittany was quiet as she contemplated this question and Santana felt fear clutch her throat. When she was with Brittany, at least she didn’t have to feel like she was so alone. But if Brittany loved Mike, that meant, she was all alone. She would be the gay cheerleader stuck in a small-minded small town in love with her best friend who was in love with a boy. And Brittany would get to be normal and no one would ever call her a homophobic slur while Santana would be left alone to think about Brittany while she touched herself at night. The thought was unbearable.
“I think I do,” Brittany said softly. She looked down. “But I think I love you more.”
Santana averted her eyes and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I’m not gay. You can’t love me. Not like that.”
Brittany gave a slight nod. “Oh,” she said softly. She bit her lower lip. “What if…” she hesitated. “What if I’m just a little gay?” she asked softly. “And I’m just a little gay for you.” She cleared her throat. “And you, you could be just a little gay, too. And you could just be a little gay for me.”
Santana snorted. “You can’t just be a little gay, Brittany. And you can’t just be gay for one person. It doesn’t work like that. You’re either gay or you’re not and neither of us can be gay.”
Brittany nodded again. “You’re smarter than me, so I guess you’re right.”
“Yeah, I guess I am.”
“I should go,” Brittany said. “I’m going to meet Mike.”
“Okay.”
“Bye, Santana.”
“Bye, Brittany.”
They stopped kissing and having sex after that. They stayed friends, but there was no more of their easy physical affection. They used to hold hands, hug, play with each other’s hair and rest their heads on each other’s shoulders. All of that stopped.
No matter how legitimately drunk Santana got at parties after that, she never made another move on Brittany.
That is, until, the end of their junior year.
Mike and Brittany had broken up by then, and although both are tight-lipped about it, and they stayed friends, the longing looks Mike would throw Brittany’s way clearly indicated that Brittany initiated the break-up.
Rachel approached her one day after school. They were on friendly terms because of Glee, but they were not friends. Brittany and Rachel, on the other hand, were friends and it was for only this reason that Santana tried to be as nice to Rachel as she could.
Rachel looked completely freaked out as she approached Santana at her locker. She grabbed Santana by the arm and leaned in close.
“Brittany is crying in the girls’ bathroom and she won’t come out of the stall,” she whispered. Rachel’s eyes were wide. “You have to go to her!”
Santana shut her locker and ran down the hallway to the girls’ bathroom. There were two freshman girls in there, fixing their makeup before they walked home.
“Out,” Santana ordered.
The two girls left hastily and Santana walked in and move the large trash can in front of the door, so that anyone who tried to get in would have a hard time of it.
“Brit?” Santana called. She could hear sniffling.
There was no response.
“Brittany, that’s you, right?” she asked. She glanced down at the stall and recognized the shoes. “Brittany, I know that’s you. I can see your shoes.”
Santana wanted to laugh when she saw Brittany pull her feet up so that they were no longer visible.
“Brittany!”
There was no response.
Santana sighed and she got down on her knees and shimmied under the stall. Brittany was sitting on the toilet, with her feet pulled up, clearly trying to hide. Brittany was also definitely not using the bathroom for its intended purpose, unless the intended purpose of a restroom was to hide, which it was for some people.
Brittany gasped and stood up. “What are you doing?!”
“Why are you crying?”
“I’m not crying.”
“You’re totally crying.”
“You only think I’m crying. But I’m not.”
“Why are you crying?”
“I’m not crying.”
“Why are you crying?” Santana repeated.
Brittany’s lower lip trembled. “I don’t want to tell you,” she said her voice coming out quivery.
“Why not?” Santana asked softly.
“You won’t want to be my friend anymore,” Brittany said softly. “Please don’t ask. Just go. Okay?”
“We’ll always be friends,” Santana whispered. “You and me, against the world, just like always.”
Brittany swallowed hard. “I just tried to kiss Rachel,” she admitted quietly, tears flowing down her face.
Santana’s eyes widened. “What?”
Brittany wiped at her eyes. “I needed to prove that I wasn’t gay, so we could be friends again,” she said. “But I liked it.”
“What are you talking about? We’re friends! We’ve always been friends!”
“But we…we stopped…kissing and having sex,” Brittany said. “And I thought maybe it was because…” she blushed. “I thought maybe it was because you knew I liked it too much and that’s why you…you were telling me that you weren’t gay.” She sniffled. “I didn’t think being gay was that big of a deal. Rachel’s dads are. And so is Kurt. But you…” Brittany trailed off.
Santana swallowed hard. It made sense now why Rachel looked so freaked out, but she didn’t think Rachel would tell anyone either.
“Are you worried that Rachel is going to tell people?” Santana asked. “Because I will make sure she doesn’t.”
Brittany shook her head. “Rachel said she wouldn’t, and Rachel doesn’t lie.” She sniffled. “I’m gay,” she whispered. “I like girls more than I like guys,” she admitted softly. “I thought maybe it was just because I liked you, but I just like girls.” She shut her eyes and hung her head. “Are you going to go?”
“No,” Santana said, enveloping Brittany’s waist with her arms. She swallowed hard. “I like girls, too,” she whispered, “I have since I was little.”
Brittany opened her eyes and peered into Santana’s eyes, clearly confused. “But why did you say you weren’t gay then?”
“I didn’t want to be gay,” Santana said softly.
“You made it sound like it was the worst thing to be in the world,” Brittany said quietly.
“I know,” Santana said, her voice low.
“I never thought it was,” Brittany said, wiping at her eyes and putting her arms around Santana.
“I know,” Santana said. “I just didn’t want to be gay.”
Brittany paused. “What about now?”
“I don’t know,” Santana said honestly. She sniffed, ready to cry herself. “Do you like Rachel?” she whispered. “I mean, you kissed her.”
“She’s just my friend,” Brittany said. “I just…I just wanted to see. If it was just you, or if it was girls.” Brittany looked liked she wanted to cry. “It’s girls.”
“What do you want now?” Santana asked quietly.
“I want you,” Brittany responded softly.
Santana swallowed hard. “I want you, too.”
They kissed and when they pulled apart, Santana just knew. She knew that she loved Brittany-- had loved her for a very long time and she would do anything for Brittany. She was just lucky Brittany was undemanding, at least, as a general rule. She knew she would do anything Brittany wanted, if Brittany just asked.
Santana Lopez was not known for being nice or sweet, she was not known for being a good person. But she was known for being good to Brittany, and that was enough for her.
For now, it was enough. She could think about everything else later, but for now she had Brittany in her arms again. Santana had come to realize that at least for her, loving another person-- really loving another person the way she loved Brittany, meant that she would always be beholden to that person, would always be a willing slave to that person. She was lucky that Brittany was not at all demanding in that respect and would never ask for anything that Santana wasn’t completely willing to give. And Santana knew herself well enough to know that she would give Brittany anything, if Brittany just asked. And there was a part of her that had faith that Brittany felt the same way about her. For now, it was enough that she loved Brittany and Brittany loved her back. They could think about everything else another day.
The End.
Author: Sulkygeek
Pairing: Brittany/Santana with references to Mike Chang/Brittany, Puck/Santana, Matt/Santana
Rating: R [in spite of the vaguely pornographic implication of the title, I think it’s more a moderate-to-hard R]
Summary: Brittany and Santana and some gayness.
Length: 7000
Spoilers: Through ‘Sectionals’
--
Slave
--
You are a slave to the one you love because you love [her], and you are a slave to the one you love, because [s]he loves you back.
--Kahlil Gibran
--
Brittany was not as dumb as she pretended to be, but she was considerably dumber than she wanted to be. She came from a family of ‘smart’ people who viewed her almost curiously, the way a swan might view her ugly duckling. When she was younger and she just seemed completely unable to get her schoolwork, there were a host of trips to the pediatrician to test her hearing, the optometrist to test her eye sight and the therapist to test if she was just being willful and lazy. The last one was really the last resort, because anyone who knew Brittany, knew she was neither willful nor lazy. When she was ten, her father pronounced her “sweet, but dim” at the dinner table, as though she weren’t even there, and from that moment on, there were no expectations of her in the family. At least, nothing that was academic.
Her parents stopped pushing her to do better in school, and for a while, it was kind of a relief. She was tired of the tearful arguments she had with her parents about why she wasn’t trying harder. She was doing the best she could, but no matter how much she pleaded her case, her parents never seemed to believe her. But while her parents pushed her siblings to do better in school and frowned over report cards and bad exam grades, her parents expected nothing of her, and just seemed relieved when she was able to pass to the next grade at the end of the school year. Her older brother called her a retard, and her older sister pronounced her “special needs” and even her little sister, who was 11 months younger proclaimed even she was smarter than Brittany.
For a while, when she was in primary school, she tried really hard to understand the assignments and to study as much as she could. She did this on her own because she wanted to prove that she wasn’t as stupid as they thought. She didn’t just want to be the sibling her parents called on to do the chores around her house because the other kids were studying or had finals or whatever. She wanted to prove she was more than that.
But when she was eleven and in the fifth grade, Mrs. Rosser started doing weekly quizzes which were switched around after completion and graded by one another. Mrs. Rosser would read the quiz question out loud, and then supply the right answer. Every once in a while, a student might call out an answer they felt was a fair alternative and Mrs. Rosser would say whether or not that was acceptable.
On one of these occasions, Mrs. Rosser just had everyone pass back their papers to the person sitting behind them. Scott Stewart, sat behind her and had to grade her paper. He preceded to call out every incorrect answer Brittany had on her paper (and there were many) and most of the answers were pretty far-fetched, but she just felt she had to put something down. The class giggled every time Scott called out an answer and pretty soon, even Mrs. Rosser couldn’t conceal a tiny smirk. It was also a fair imitation of the times when Brittany herself called out an answer she wasn’t sure was acceptable, and she had to deal with her classmates rolling their eyes at how dumb she was.
“How many points is it if someone just drew in a sombrero?” Scott asked.
“None, Scott,” Mrs. Rosser said, unable to hold down a tiny chuckle.
Everyone laughed and Brittany burned with outrage, because she’d never done that, but now everyone believed she had. She felt the urge to just punch him in the face, but she didn’t want everyone to know how much it stung, either, because she knew, she knew she was dumb, and she didn’t think she had any right to be upset about something that was true.
Brittany tried to laugh it off as having not studied, but the truth was, she had studied. But the quiz was one of those fill-in-the-blank type tests, not multiple choice and she just couldn’t remember anything. But by the time they had to pass in the quiz, everyone in the class knew how poorly she’d done on the test and she burned with shame and embarrassment.
(Scott Stewart grew into one of those boys who was really good-looking, athletic and smart, to boot. In high school, he would ask her out with a cocky smile and she would politely decline despite the fact the memory of what he’d done to her in fifth grade still burned fresh in her mind. There’d also been an incident in seventh grade, and she could not believe he’d even ask. She politely declined by explaining she was dating Mike Chang, and Scott was immediately dismissive and grabbed her by the wrist to insist she go out with him. This caused Santana to deliver a swift kick to his shin. A few hours later, Mike would get into a fight with Scott over this and Brittany could not squelch a tiny bit of glee at the way Mike summarily kicks Scott’s ass. When she and Mike sat on the trunk of Mike’s car as she looked at the abrasions on his knuckle and gently kissed them, she softly thanked him and he took her hand and said, “you’re my friend, and you’re my girl.” She would have totally slept with him for the first time that day, but he just drove her home and told her he hoped she would have a good night and he’d see her tomorrow. Some part of her would always love Mike Chang after that.)
She met Santana in middle school because they had the same home room. She’d seen Santana over the summer at a drill team try out, and Brittany knew they’d both made it, but drill team wouldn’t start until school started. Already they were on different paths. Santana was in all the accelerated classes while Brittany was on the regular track (“average” the students called it.) They’d happened to take seats next to each other, so when their homeroom teacher passed out their schedules, Santana glanced over at Brittany’s classes, took in the face that Brittany was “average” and sniffed dismissively. They didn’t talk, and Brittany didn’t even really see Santana again until after school when the drill team met.
Coach Evans preferred crisp, military movements for drill team over the more fluid, dancer-like movements that other drill teams in other schools practiced. Brittany didn’t care either way, and just adjusted herself according to whatever it was she had to do. She’d taken dance classes as long as she could remember, because it was the one of the few areas she excelled in that her siblings did not. Her parents seemed almost relieved by her talent, first in dancing, and then as they would discover later, in singing. Her parents don’t respect artists as a general rule, but they were just glad she was good at something.
Coach Evans and fifteen other middle-school aged girls lined up to practice their routine and it was only after they were done when everyone else was out of breath and complaining about how hard it was, and only Brittany was impressively eager to continue onward, that Santana looked at her with a measure of respect.
Santana turned to look at her, sweaty and out of breath, bangs plastered to her forehead. She was eleven years old, short and skinny and woefully underdeveloped, but she had a certain presence that was disconcerting, even to adults.
“Show me,” Santana said. “Show me how you did that.”
They were inseparable after that.
--
Brittany’s mother always seemed vaguely worried about their friendship for the first year, and she made a few comments to Brittany about Santana, describing the other girl as “a little prickly.” Brittany knew her mother was only looking out for her, but she’d been a little insulted on Santana’s behalf.
“Not with me, Mom,” Brittany insisted.
But always her mother would go back to being worried, like Santana had some ulterior motive or something.
“It just seems like a very unlikely friendship, honey,” her mother would say now and then.
“She’s nice to me,” Brittany would insist.
It wasn’t until the middle of seventh grade Brittany’s mom just seemed to understand. It was a wintry February day when Brittany’s parents, Santana’s parents and Scott’s father were called into the principal’s office over allegations that the three of them had started a food fight in the cafeteria.
Brittany and Santana’s parents were appalled and apologetic while Scott’s dad just seemed angry.
Brittany and Santana sat next to each other, pointedly away from Scott Stewart, the jerk. Scott was hilariously covered in milk, food and other condiments, but Brittany and Santana were relatively food-free. There’d been a tator tot in Santana’s hair that Brittany pulled out on the march to the principal’s office and Brittany had some ketchup on her shoe, but other than that, they’d escaped the food fight relatively unscathed.
Santana sat with her arms crossed defiantly in front of her and she had a bloody, burst lip. She looked angry enough to spit, and she was definitely not going to cry. Brittany, on the other hand, sat with her shoulders slightly hunched, her hands in her lap and she felt that feeling when she told her big brother and sister that She. Was. NOT. Crying. But really, she was on the verge of bursting into tears.
The principal demanded answers, but Brittany and Santana were tight-lipped, despite warnings from each set of their parents to talk about what happened.
“You just wait until we get you home, Santana,” her mother threatened.
Santana shrugged defiantly.
Even Scott kept his mouth shut. Until, that is, his father began making threats of his own. Scott Stewart quickly crumpled.
“They started it!” he insisted. “I was just talking to them, and Santana just hit me. I didn’t want to hit her back, so I was just trying to push her away, but then Brittany jumped on my back!”
Brittany was outraged because that was not how it happened at all and opened her mouth to protest, but she felt Santana touch her shoulder. Brittany turned to look at Santana, and the dark-haired girl shook her head. Brittany shut her mouth and resumed her position of starting resolutely at the floor.
The disciplinary meeting went on for a while, and Brittany and Santana accepted full responsibility for the fight with Scott and the food fight that ensued as a result. But then Scott made a critical mistake as he and his father were leaving, with Brittany, Santana and their respective parents left to discuss sanctions.
“All I did was call her a retard, we all already knew that,” he said, pointing at Brittany derisively. “What’s she even doing in this school and not in some special school with the other retards?”
In the blink of an eye, Santana, who was previously stoic and silent, got out of her chair so quickly, the chair pushed back and her body was almost parallel to the ground as she leaped at Scott.
“Shut up!”
Brittany got up to grab Santana around the waist, and had to pull Santana upward so that Santana’s feet swung in the air.
“You got what you deserved, you crazy bitch!” Scott yelled at Santana, pointing to her busted lip which he’d previously claimed no knowledge about.
Needless to say, Scott and his father were not excused and all three students were disciplined.
It was only then that the whole story came out.
Brittany and Santana were eating lunch together, Scott approached them and asked Brittany out, Brittany said no, Santana told him to fuck off, which was when Scott called Brittany a retard. Santana stood up, poured her just-opened carton of milk on top of his head, he responded by punching her in the mouth. Santana stood up and leaped across the table at him and he and Santana struggled for a couple of seconds. Brittany got up and jumped on his back and he responded by ramming Brittany several times into a wall in an effort to dislodge her, except Brittany’s arms were freakishly well-developed even then, and she held on for dear life because he still had his hands on Santana. Santana responded with fury and grabbed a discarded plate of ketchup and tator tots and rammed it into his face. They had a crowd of people by then and that was when the food fight ensued and moments later, school personnel finally rushed in to separate them.
As they left, Santana poked her finger into Scott’s rib cage, leaned in close and whispered. “if you ever tell anyone what you said about Brittany, I’ll kill you.”
It was after that Brittany’s mother seemed to understand what drew her daughter to Santana, and seemed to get why they were friends. And Brittany’s mother never made another comment about how their friendship seemed so unlikely or how different they were from each other.
The next day at school, Santana was dismissive about her busted lower lip, but became enraged all over again when she saw bruises on Brittany’s back as they changed for drill team practice. Brittany had been pulling her t-shirt over her head when Santana stopped her by demanding if the bruises on her back were from Scott ramming her repeatedly into a wall when she jumped on his back.
“Was that from Scott?!” she demanded.
Brittany shrugged and tried to look at her back by turning her head and immediately felt stupid when she saw the look on Santana’s face.
“Does it hurt?” Santana asked, reaching tentatively out to touch Brittany’s bare back.
“No,” Brittany said, tugging her shirt down. Santana pulled her hand away as Brittany did so. Brittany stood up and touched Santana’s lip. “Does this hurt?”
Santana gave her a crooked smile. “Please. Do you really think a little troll like that could ever hurt me? It was completely worth it.”
Brittany grinned at her and pulled Santana into an impetuous hug. “You’re my best friend,” she declared.
Santana held her. “You’re my best friend, too,” she said softly.
As punishment for the fight with Scott, Brittany and Santana were forbidden by their respective parents to hang out with each other outside of school for a month. It felt like an eternity. When the month long prohibition on Brittany and Santana time expired, Brittany’s mom dropped her off at Santana’s house and Brittany and Santana’s mom shared a long look before they waved at one another and Brittany’s mother drove away. Santana’s mom put her arm around Brittany’s shoulder. “Welcome back, Brittany,” she said kindly.
Santana ran down the stairs and she jumped over the last two steps. Santana and Brittany hugged each other, gave each other a long look and then started laughing. “Let’s go upstairs,” Santana said, linking her arm with Brittany’s.
--
They were fourteen when they had their first kiss. It was the first real kiss for both of them, and it wasn’t a big deal. It was Santana’s idea, but Brittany was quick to agree.
“We’re just practicing for when we get boyfriends, right?” Brittany asked.
Santana paused. “Right.”
Brittany grinned at her. “Cool.”
Their lips brushed together, and for a while, it was simply lips against lips, but then Brittany’s lips parted and her tongue poked hesitantly out and Santana did the same.
It was warm and moist, and left each of them breathless. It was almost everything a first kiss should be.
Brittany felt something kind of clench in her stomach, but in a good way. It wasn’t until a few years later, after she’d kissed a few boys and kissed Santana some more that she realized how much she’d liked that first kiss.
“The boyfriend you don’t have yet is going to love you,” Brittany told Santana, because she felt she should say something complimentary.
Santana paused. “Yeah,” she said.
Brittany peered at Santana. “Are you okay?” she asked, confused because Santana didn’t look okay anymore, she looked kind of upset and a little sad.
“Yeah.”
Brittany reached for Santana’s hand shyly. “Can I kiss you again?”
Santana smiled and it was genuine. “Yeah.”
They would kiss a few more times that year. It wasn’t every time they got together or anything, but they kissed enough times for Brittany to know what Santana liked and for Santana to know what Brittany liked. Brittany thought that this was probably the whole point of kissing another person.
--
By the time Brittany and Santana reached high school, they have been friends for three years and best friends for two. They met Quinn Fabray when the other freshman Cheerios that Coach Sylvester approached to join the team get to meet the upperclassman. From that point on, Quinn joined their twosome, and their duo became a trio. But some part of Brittany always considered Santana to be her first best friend.
Santana met Puck freshman year and Brittany met Mike, but only Santana decided to actually date Puck. Brittany stayed friends with Mike, and it wasn’t until they reach their sophomore year that Mike kissed her at a party and they started dating. Once Santana started to date Puck, they didn’t have an excuse to practicing kissing for their boyfriends anymore and Brittany found herself missing it. She still needed the practice, because she didn’t have a boyfriend yet.
One night during freshman year, everyone gathered at Puck’s house and everyone drank cheap beer that Puck had in his garage. Brittany excused herself to go to the bathroom and she heard someone try to open the door while she washed her hands. Brittany was the third child in a family of four children with two parents who had very little respect for privacy. Brittany was conditioned to lock the door behind her when she went to the bathroom.
“I’ll be out in a second,” Brittany called out.
The person on the other end of the door tried to open the door again, but of course, it was locked.
“It’s locked,” Brittany explained “I’ll be out in a second.” She was a little irritated.
Brittany dried her hands on a pristine white hand towel and opened the door to find Santana on the other side.
“Santana,” Brittany said, feeling her irritation drain away. “You must really have to go. If I’d known it was you, I wouldn’t have even locked the door.”
Santana’s eyes were glassy from the beer. Brittany recognized that look because her father’s eyes looked like that all the time after dinner when he and her mother had a few drinks with dinner and then he had a few more drinks after that.
Santana didn’t say anything. She just walked into the bathroom, shut the door behind her, locked it and then turned to Brittany, pulled the blonde toward her and kissed her.
After that, it didn’t matter that Santana was dating Puck. They started kissing even more after that. “He is not my boyfriend,” Santana told her. “So we can keep practicing.”
--
Freshman year was the first year Rachel Berry matriculated into public school rather than her small K-12 private school. The rumor was that Rachel kicked out for questioning authority too much at her school and was thus forbidden from returning there for high school. Brittany knew her from dance classes when they were little, and Rachel was a little bossy and prone to doing the same thing over and over again until it was perfect, but Brittany liked her anyway. When they were little, they’d been friendly toward each other in dance classes, and Rachel routinely complimented her on her technique, and Brittany did the same. But they’d never been friends, because they never went to the same school.
The rumor around school was that Rachel was gay because her fathers were gay, and a lot of the Cheerios were very derogatory about this.
“Why is everyone so mean about Rachel’s dads?” Brittany asked Santana one day as they painted their toenails together in Santana’s room. “I knew Rachel when we were little, and she’s nice.”
“Because they’re gay,” Santana said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“So?”
“Do you know what gay means?” Santana asked.
“Yes,” Brittany said. “It means Rachel’s dads like boys. They used to hold hands at our dance recitals. But they stopped because other parents complained.”
“Well, not everyone thinks being gay is okay,” Santana said.
Brittany paused. “But…isn’t what we do kind of gay?” she asked softly.
Santana’s eyes widened and she capped her bottle of nail polish and tossed it to the side. “What we do is not gay. I am not gay. We’re just practicing, okay? We’re just kissing. We’re not having sex with each other or anything, and if you’re a girl, you have to have sex with another girl to really be gay. I will never be gay. And you’re not gay either. We’re not gay!”
Except that Brittany kind of suspected she was.
“Okay,” Brittany said. “We’re not gay.”
“No,” Santana said tersely. “We’re not.”
--
By sophomore year, Santana was dating Puck but all it really consisted of was making out, occasionally having sex and sexting one another. He’s a decent guy, and Santana knew it, but he was too invested in pretending to be an asshole.
Santana and Brittany joined Glee with Quinn, and although Santana kind of loved Glee, she thought it was possibly a grievous miscalculation, because Glee brought Brittany and Mike Chang even closer together. Brittany and Mike had been circling each other since the first day of freshman year when gangly Mike bumped into Brittany and he blushed and apologized profusely. Brittany, who was charming and sweet and made friends with nearly everyone, was nice about it and Santana watched as Brittany introduced herself and Santana to Mike. Within three minutes, Santana could see the look of flustered attraction all over Mike’s face and when Santana and Brittany walked away, Brittany commented “he’s so cute.”
Brittany and Mike stayed just friends for all of freshman year, but by the summer time, things were clearly becoming more heated.
By the time they started sophomore year, Brittany and Mike were clearly a couple, even if neither of them admitted to it. When Scott fucking Stewart approached Brittany one day in the hallway to ask her out, Santana was appalled that he didn’t seem to remember they’d once gotten into a fight, back in middle school. Brittany politely declined and explained that she was dating Mike and moved to walk away. But then Scott fucking Stewart grabbed Brittany by the wrist, and all Santana could hear was Brittany quietly say “ow” and Santana didn’t even think, she just reacted by kicking Scott as hard as she could in the shin.
Santana met Mike’s eyes, who was standing at his locker as she and Brittany walked to their respective classrooms, which also happened to be right next to each other. He looked questioningly at them and Santana saw that Mike was about to approach them when the bell rang and they all had to get to class.
Mike knew what happened by the end of school, and Santana and Puck stood off to the corner to see Mike punch Scott until Scott dropped to the floor. Mike spat on the ground, wiped his arm across his mouth and told Scott if he ever came near Brittany again, he’d kill him and then Mike walked away.
Puck chuckled. “Quiet Mike,” he commented with an amused grin.
“Yeah,” Santana said softly.
Santana saw Brittany running toward Mike. Brittany stopped when she saw him and stood on tip toe to cup his face with her hands. She peered around Mike and saw Scott who was on his knees on the ground, clutching his stomach and trying to get up. Brittany put her arm around Mike and the two walked off.
Mike was hard to hate, even for Santana who pretty much hated everyone. Unlike Brittany who liked everyone until they gave her a reason not to, and even then, it took a lot, Santana generally hated everyone on the planet other than her parents, her brothers and Brittany. Even Quinn did not escape being hated every once in a while. It didn’t even matter if someone was generally pretty likeable, she still hated them.
So even though Mike was hard to hate, Santana still found herself immeasurably jealous of him. She was particularly jealous of him the day kept watch of the hallway while Brittany snuck into her older sister’s room to steal condoms for a date with Mike. Brittany’s older brother had moved out the house to go to college by then, and so Brittany’s older sister’s reign of terror began. If Brittany got caught going into her sister’s room, there would be hell for Brittany to pay and Santana knew that she couldn’t protect Brittany from Brittany’s own family. So she just kept watch.
Brittany stuffed the condoms into her pocket and she ran out of her sister’s room giggling. She grabbed Santana by the hand and they ran to Brittany’s room where she collapsed onto the bed, still laughing. Santana could not help but smile, despite the fact the only reason Brittany was so amused was because she stole condoms to have sex with Mike.
Santana flopped onto the bed next to Brittany and felt herself being pulled toward Brittany. She laid next to Brittany until Brittany stopped laughing.
“What’s Mike like in bed?” Santana asked softly. “Is he…good to you?”
They’ve never really talked about the boys they’ve been with. Santana lost her virginity to Puck during their freshman year. It was at a party, and although it was consensual, it was painful and he didn’t seem to care that it hurt. The more they did it, the better it was until it actually started to feel good. Really good. But every time she did it with Puck, she was left feeling emptier. When she dumped Puck and moved onto Matt, who was Mike’s best friend, so that meant double dates with Mike and Brittany, she thought maybe it would be different. But it wasn’t. Matt was sweet to her and it still felt good, but once it was done, she stopped feeling good, just like with Puck.
“He’s very good to me,” Brittany said. “It feels good.”
“Good,” Santana said softly.
And she meant it. It was a relief that if felt good for Brittany. Santana only wanted good things for her.
Santana rolled onto her side and stroked Brittany’s cheek.
Once Santana touched her cheek, Brittany also rolled onto her side to look at Santana.
“I’m so happy he makes you feel good,” Santana whispered. She couldn’t help herself, she moved in even closer and brought her lips against Brittany.
Brittany kissed her back eagerly, and it was this eagerness that compelled Santana to deepen the kiss, to slip one of her hands under Brittany’s shirt to cup a breast. They kissed for a few minutes and then they broke away, breathless.
“You make me feel good, too,” Brittany breathed. “So…” Brittany swallowed visibly. “So good.”
Santana felt her heart rate increase, her pulse quicken and she wanted nothing more than to make Brittany feel as good as possible.
“Take off your shirt,” Santana breathed.
Brittany paused and she swallowed hard. “Won’t that make us gay?” she whispered. “You don’t want to be gay.”
“Let’s not think about it right now.”
They have sex that day, and it was everything Santana wanted it to be. It was everything she thought about since she was fourteen years old and kissed Brittany for the first time. If she were honest with herself, she knew she probably wanted it when she was even younger, before she even should have been thinking about sex.
She remembered the first time she saw Brittany, in home room, in sixth grade on the first day of middle school. Brittany had been pretty, even then. If Brittany ever went through an awkward stage, it was before Santana ever knew her. Santana was just coming out of her awkward stage when they met. She was still short, skinny and underdeveloped, but she’d started to become pretty and she knew it. On that first day, Brittany was just another pretty girl, and Santana had known many pretty girls.
But when she saw Brittany move in that drill team practice, she’d been impressed and Santana had been difficult to impress, even back then. Brittany was graceful and fluid, her movements economical. But when Coach Evans’s routine called for military sharpness, Brittany easily complied.
She didn’t know what it was about Brittany that had her so smitten and enchanted for so many years. Yes, Brittany was pretty, but Santana had never particularly concerned herself with pretty girls. Well, when Santana was honest with herself, she had. She’d noticed how pretty certain girls were from an early age, but she’d always thought that was normal. (When she was older, she realized she probably always liked girls, but it was one particular girl that got her crazy and obsessed) But it wasn’t just Brittany’s prettiness that just drew her in, because a lot of people were pretty. Quinn was pretty. Rachel Berry, though Santana did not want to admit it, was pretty. Mercedes and Tina were both pretty. It wasn’t just that Brittany was pretty, although Santana could concede (to whom? To herself?) that it didn’t hurt. Some days when she saw Brittany, she felt warmth pool between her thighs, and when she made out with Brittany, she felt herself getting wet enough that she almost resented Brittany for doing it to her.
So it wasn’t just that Brittany was pretty. And it wasn’t just that Brittany was talented, both as a singer and as a dancer. She was also a pretty good artist-- Santana had kept every note Brittany ever passed her since they were in the sixth grade and most of them started out as class assignments, so there were doodles on the corners. Brittany was really talented. It wasn’t just that Brittany was genuinely and unerringly sweet and nice. Sweet and nice were not characteristics that Santana typically admired in other people. It wasn’t just that Brittany was loyal, although loyalty was a quality that Santana admired. It wasn’t just that Brittany was a good kisser, although again, it didn’t hurt. It wasn’t just that Brittany was goofy and cute in a completely endearing way, because again, goofiness was not a quality Santana typically found to be cute or endearing. And God help both of them, but it wasn’t Brittany’s brain that Santana found to be attractive. Santana admired intellect and although Brittany was smart in her own way, because she was perceptive and kind when people really needed her to be, she wasn’t going to be joining the Academic Decathlon any time soon, either.
But when you put everything together-- the beauty, the talent, the kindness, the sweetness, the goofiness, the fact that Brittany really needed a lot of help with homework, you got Brittany. And Brittany meant…well, practically everything to Santana.
They laid together after their first time with each other, sweaty and breathing hard.
Brittany was quiet but laid on her side, one arm across Santana’s waist. Santana stared up at the ceiling, and felt tears come to her eyes.
Sex with Brittany felt so good and not just in the physical sense with Puck and Matt. She wanted to lay down with Brittany forever, and they didn’t even need to have sex. They could just stay like this forever. And it would be okay.
But it was not okay. This was Lima, not Los Angeles, New York or Boston. Rachel Berry was regularly taunted for being gay and that was only because she had two gay dads. That girl was clearly into Finn and Puck, so Santana was reasonably sure Rachel was straight. In fact, everyone was reasonably sure that Rachel was straight, but they still taunted her about being gay because of her gay dads. Rachel took it all in stride, and never denied it, and simply asked, “so what if I were?” If Rachel, who was straight, could be taunted for being gay just because she had two gay fathers, Santana had no idea what would happen to her if it was ever revealed that she actually was gay. She was gay and she was in Glee Club, she might as well have attached a target to her body. She was not going to go down this way.
Sex with Brittany only proved to Santana three things with absolute certainty: one, she was gay, two, she was head over heels in love with Brittany.
And three? She didn’t want to be gay, and she didn’t want to be in love with Brittany.
“Why are you crying?” Brittany asked, sitting up. She looked worried and panicky. “Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you?”
Santana swallowed hard and shook her head. “No, Brit. It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m just...” she cleared her throat. “You can’t tell anyone about us, okay?”
Brittany nodded. “Okay,” she said softly.
“You keep dating Mike, and I’ll keep dating Matt and we’ll be fine,” Santana said.
“Okay,” she said quietly.
“Sex isn’t dating,” Santana said. “Dating each other would make us gay. And we’re not gay. We can’t be gay.”
“Okay,” Brittany said softly.
Afterward, Santana could only let herself have sex with Brittany if she pretended to be drunk first. It wouldn’t take much, maybe a beer or two, or a wine cooler or something. She wasn’t drunk, but she wanted to be able to blame it on the alcohol if they ever got caught. Brittany seemed to know Santana wasn’t really drunk, but she didn’t say anything about it. And they went on that way, they would be at a party, or Santana would sneak over some vodka or Brittany would pilfer some of her parents’ alcohol (they had a lot of it) and they would drink a little bit of it, just enough for Santana to convince herself she’d lowered her inhibitions and was doing something she wouldn’t when she was sober. And then they would have sex.
One day, in the middle of their junior year, Santana tried to kiss Brittany while they studied for Spanish at Santana’s house, but Brittany pulled away.
“I don’t want to hurt Mike like this,” she said softly. “It would hurt his feelings.”
Mike and Brittany were still dating, but Santana had long ended things with Matt.
Santana really didn’t care about Mike’s feelings. She cared about hers. And Brittany’s.
“Well, how do you feel about this?” she asked Brittany.
“I don’t want to hurt Mike,” Brittany said. “It makes me feel bad to hurt Mike.”
“So don’t tell him and we don’t have to let him find out.” She moved to kiss Brittany again.
Brittany pulled away again. “He told me last night that he loves me. I can’t do this to him. Don’t you remember how hurt Finn was when he found out about Quinn and Puck?”
Santana made a face. Even though she didn’t love Puck, and half the time, she didn’t even like him, she still thought it was shitty of Quinn to sleep with Puck when technically, she and Puck had been dating.
“Do you love him?” Santana asked quietly.
Brittany was quiet as she contemplated this question and Santana felt fear clutch her throat. When she was with Brittany, at least she didn’t have to feel like she was so alone. But if Brittany loved Mike, that meant, she was all alone. She would be the gay cheerleader stuck in a small-minded small town in love with her best friend who was in love with a boy. And Brittany would get to be normal and no one would ever call her a homophobic slur while Santana would be left alone to think about Brittany while she touched herself at night. The thought was unbearable.
“I think I do,” Brittany said softly. She looked down. “But I think I love you more.”
Santana averted her eyes and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I’m not gay. You can’t love me. Not like that.”
Brittany gave a slight nod. “Oh,” she said softly. She bit her lower lip. “What if…” she hesitated. “What if I’m just a little gay?” she asked softly. “And I’m just a little gay for you.” She cleared her throat. “And you, you could be just a little gay, too. And you could just be a little gay for me.”
Santana snorted. “You can’t just be a little gay, Brittany. And you can’t just be gay for one person. It doesn’t work like that. You’re either gay or you’re not and neither of us can be gay.”
Brittany nodded again. “You’re smarter than me, so I guess you’re right.”
“Yeah, I guess I am.”
“I should go,” Brittany said. “I’m going to meet Mike.”
“Okay.”
“Bye, Santana.”
“Bye, Brittany.”
They stopped kissing and having sex after that. They stayed friends, but there was no more of their easy physical affection. They used to hold hands, hug, play with each other’s hair and rest their heads on each other’s shoulders. All of that stopped.
No matter how legitimately drunk Santana got at parties after that, she never made another move on Brittany.
That is, until, the end of their junior year.
Mike and Brittany had broken up by then, and although both are tight-lipped about it, and they stayed friends, the longing looks Mike would throw Brittany’s way clearly indicated that Brittany initiated the break-up.
Rachel approached her one day after school. They were on friendly terms because of Glee, but they were not friends. Brittany and Rachel, on the other hand, were friends and it was for only this reason that Santana tried to be as nice to Rachel as she could.
Rachel looked completely freaked out as she approached Santana at her locker. She grabbed Santana by the arm and leaned in close.
“Brittany is crying in the girls’ bathroom and she won’t come out of the stall,” she whispered. Rachel’s eyes were wide. “You have to go to her!”
Santana shut her locker and ran down the hallway to the girls’ bathroom. There were two freshman girls in there, fixing their makeup before they walked home.
“Out,” Santana ordered.
The two girls left hastily and Santana walked in and move the large trash can in front of the door, so that anyone who tried to get in would have a hard time of it.
“Brit?” Santana called. She could hear sniffling.
There was no response.
“Brittany, that’s you, right?” she asked. She glanced down at the stall and recognized the shoes. “Brittany, I know that’s you. I can see your shoes.”
Santana wanted to laugh when she saw Brittany pull her feet up so that they were no longer visible.
“Brittany!”
There was no response.
Santana sighed and she got down on her knees and shimmied under the stall. Brittany was sitting on the toilet, with her feet pulled up, clearly trying to hide. Brittany was also definitely not using the bathroom for its intended purpose, unless the intended purpose of a restroom was to hide, which it was for some people.
Brittany gasped and stood up. “What are you doing?!”
“Why are you crying?”
“I’m not crying.”
“You’re totally crying.”
“You only think I’m crying. But I’m not.”
“Why are you crying?”
“I’m not crying.”
“Why are you crying?” Santana repeated.
Brittany’s lower lip trembled. “I don’t want to tell you,” she said her voice coming out quivery.
“Why not?” Santana asked softly.
“You won’t want to be my friend anymore,” Brittany said softly. “Please don’t ask. Just go. Okay?”
“We’ll always be friends,” Santana whispered. “You and me, against the world, just like always.”
Brittany swallowed hard. “I just tried to kiss Rachel,” she admitted quietly, tears flowing down her face.
Santana’s eyes widened. “What?”
Brittany wiped at her eyes. “I needed to prove that I wasn’t gay, so we could be friends again,” she said. “But I liked it.”
“What are you talking about? We’re friends! We’ve always been friends!”
“But we…we stopped…kissing and having sex,” Brittany said. “And I thought maybe it was because…” she blushed. “I thought maybe it was because you knew I liked it too much and that’s why you…you were telling me that you weren’t gay.” She sniffled. “I didn’t think being gay was that big of a deal. Rachel’s dads are. And so is Kurt. But you…” Brittany trailed off.
Santana swallowed hard. It made sense now why Rachel looked so freaked out, but she didn’t think Rachel would tell anyone either.
“Are you worried that Rachel is going to tell people?” Santana asked. “Because I will make sure she doesn’t.”
Brittany shook her head. “Rachel said she wouldn’t, and Rachel doesn’t lie.” She sniffled. “I’m gay,” she whispered. “I like girls more than I like guys,” she admitted softly. “I thought maybe it was just because I liked you, but I just like girls.” She shut her eyes and hung her head. “Are you going to go?”
“No,” Santana said, enveloping Brittany’s waist with her arms. She swallowed hard. “I like girls, too,” she whispered, “I have since I was little.”
Brittany opened her eyes and peered into Santana’s eyes, clearly confused. “But why did you say you weren’t gay then?”
“I didn’t want to be gay,” Santana said softly.
“You made it sound like it was the worst thing to be in the world,” Brittany said quietly.
“I know,” Santana said, her voice low.
“I never thought it was,” Brittany said, wiping at her eyes and putting her arms around Santana.
“I know,” Santana said. “I just didn’t want to be gay.”
Brittany paused. “What about now?”
“I don’t know,” Santana said honestly. She sniffed, ready to cry herself. “Do you like Rachel?” she whispered. “I mean, you kissed her.”
“She’s just my friend,” Brittany said. “I just…I just wanted to see. If it was just you, or if it was girls.” Brittany looked liked she wanted to cry. “It’s girls.”
“What do you want now?” Santana asked quietly.
“I want you,” Brittany responded softly.
Santana swallowed hard. “I want you, too.”
They kissed and when they pulled apart, Santana just knew. She knew that she loved Brittany-- had loved her for a very long time and she would do anything for Brittany. She was just lucky Brittany was undemanding, at least, as a general rule. She knew she would do anything Brittany wanted, if Brittany just asked.
Santana Lopez was not known for being nice or sweet, she was not known for being a good person. But she was known for being good to Brittany, and that was enough for her.
For now, it was enough. She could think about everything else later, but for now she had Brittany in her arms again. Santana had come to realize that at least for her, loving another person-- really loving another person the way she loved Brittany, meant that she would always be beholden to that person, would always be a willing slave to that person. She was lucky that Brittany was not at all demanding in that respect and would never ask for anything that Santana wasn’t completely willing to give. And Santana knew herself well enough to know that she would give Brittany anything, if Brittany just asked. And there was a part of her that had faith that Brittany felt the same way about her. For now, it was enough that she loved Brittany and Brittany loved her back. They could think about everything else another day.
The End.