Looking Up (or when Santana finally got her shit together)
Title: Looking Up
Pairing: Santana/Brittany (primarily)
Rating: PG-13 for now
Summary: Santana and Brittany are undeniable. But so is the fact that they live in Lima, Ohio.
Spoilers: Err not really much of canon is exposed, I mean everyone knows Quinn's preggers right?
Title: Looking Up
Pairing: Santana/Brittany (primarily)
Rating: PG-13 for now
Summary: Santana and Brittany are undeniable. But so is the fact that they live in Lima, Ohio.
Santana is certain of many things. She knows that she is going to leave Lima and Ohio far, far behind her. She knows that the Cheerios are merely a tool, if she can utilize them to stay at the top of the social pyramid of WMHS, then she can escape this stupid little life without too many scars (she ignores the fact that she is the one currently inflicting the scars). She knows that being the head of the Cheerios, being on the track team, being at the top of her advanced classes, and being in as many clubs as she is, she’s a shoe-in for a bunch of scholarships.
She can string along as many boys as she wants. They’re at the top of the school’s social ladder but they are all completely meaningless. She feels nothing when they touch her and when they kiss her all Santana can focus on is how they will help put her above the other girls and how long she has to let them hang around her before she can throw them to the side. Everyone in her life is meant to be used and left behind when they can offer her nothing else. Boys help to cultivate her ruthless image.
There’s only one problem.
She doesn’t want any of them. The one person she wants does not fit into her plan of escaping Lima unscathed.
Santana doesn’t want Brittany to use her. Santana wants Brittany because she wants to know every curve and line of the other girl. She wants to discover every part of her and conquer it. She wants Brittany for no other reason than the fact that she cares about her, maybe even... But conquerors are not afforded the luxury of caring.
At least, that’s what she tells herself.
The only time that Brittany has ever been absolutely certain about anything is when she feels music moving through her body. Rachel Berry sings the way that Brittany moves. It is as though in that moment, there is nothing but the act of music, making it real, making it physical. Brittany wants to dance forever.
There are many things that Brittany is uncertain about. School comes to mind, but even though her teachers have always told her that her education is the only way to go anywhere, she feels something inside of her that tells her differently. How can school provide a future if she’s just no good at it? Brittany knows that she’s going to dance into her future, no matter how many mean math teachers tell her that she’s being unrealistic.
But popularity, that’s another thing that Brittany is confused by. It just happened when she moved to Lima from an even smaller town in Michigan. She never tried to be popular; Sue Sylvester had seen her dance at a ballet recital in the summer before seventh grade. Before she had even made any friends, her parents had enrolled her into Sue Sylvester’s Camp for Preteen Performers. Most people called it the Cheerios Manufacturing Plant.
That was where she met Quinn. More importantly it’s where she met Santana.
If there’s anything else that Brittany knows, it’s that she loves Santana. If there’s anything that Brittany is confused by, it’s why she can’t lean over and kiss Santana in the middle of the hall. But Santana says that they can’t and Santana knows these things.
When they’re alone in the mirrored rehearsal room, Santana will watch Brittany dance. She gets this look in her eye and Brittany feels her love in the same way that she feels the music roll through every nerve in her body. She dances and makes music tangible; when they’re alone with only their reflections for company, they make their love real. She reaches out and Santana will take her hand and pull her close like in salsa dancing, except the only spinning that happens is when their lips meet and their bodies press together close enough that Brittany can feel Santana’s heart beating against her own chest.
Brittany knows by her heartbeat that something about them scares Santana. But she knows that when she’s dancing into her future, she wants Santana to be dancing next to her.
~*~
Fuck.
That’s the only though running through Santana’s head as she watches Brittany back away from her with wide, hurt, blue eyes. The look on the blonde’s face cracks something deep inside the other girl.
“Britt,” she pleads, reaching out the way she’s done a million times before.
Brittany does not take her hand.
Instead the blonde cheerleader does an about-face and flees from the kitchen that they’ve been occupying to get away from the rowdy party going on outside. She clips the entering Quinn’s shoulder as she tries to escape.
“Woah, Brittany! What’s wr-” But she’s gone before Quinn can finish.
Santana’s eyes follow her out into the large group of jocks and Cheerios until she is lost in the crowd.
“What the hell did you do?”
Her eyes snap back find Quinn with an expression that expects answers. She sneers instead of confiding.
“Mind your own fucking business, Juno.”
She tries to walk past the other girl and attempts not to reveal the fact that her eyes are scanning the crowd once again. A solid grip on her wrist tugs her back into place and she’s looking into hazel eyes when she wants to be downing ten shots of tequila to forget what just happened.
“She’s not going to wait around for you forever.” Quinn whispers softly.
Santana wants to say something, to make some snide comment, but she can’t. Instead she breaks eye contact and physical contact with Quinn.
Run. Find her. Tell her you’re sorry. Don’t let her go. Make her stop hurting.
Instead of doing any of the things that her mind and heart are screaming at her, she turns and walks toward the kegs and the boys handing out frothing cups to the Cheerios around them. She can feel as Quinn looks on with disappointment. She ignores it.
~*~
They’re laughing and Santana pulls Brittany into the house that the victory party for the football team is being hosted at. Their hands are linked tightly. When Santana looks up, she looks directly into glacier blue eyes and smiles before turning to rummage through the fridge at the far end of the kitchen.
Brittany hikes herself up onto the counter; oblivious to the constraints that her tiny skirt should put on her. Santana is far from oblivious when she realizes the red that she’s seeing is Brittany’s favorite red lace thong. She quickly turns away and swallows hard as she hears people throughout the house and the crowd in the back yard.
Now is not the time.
A sharp giggle sounds from somewhere in the house lets loose and a drunken masculine whisper of; “Quiet, they’ll hear.” drifts from the stair case. Santana’s knuckles tighten on the refrigerator handle at the accumulating reminders that they are not alone. A slender pale hand slides over hers and a kiss is pressed against her shoulder from behind.
She jerks away.
“Stop.” She hisses, cutting her eyes toward the blonde.
Brittany looks confused, her hand hovering above empty air.
“What, what did I do?” Her voice trembles, Santana is hardly ever short with her. Everyone else had to tread cautiously when it came to Santana, but not Brittany. Brittany was exempt from that particular rule.
“Just stop. Alright?” Santana says nervously as people pass them heading into the living room. But it isn’t hesitant, it comes out agitated. She is on edge; there are too many people around for her to be comfortable.
“Santana,” Brittany puts her hand on Santana’s shoulder.
“God, why are you being so stupid?!” Santana says, brushing the hand away. She freezes, realizing what she has just said. She has never said anything like that, especially not that word. Not to Brittany.
She looks up and sees that those glacier blue eyes are wet with tears.
Fuck.
~*~
Even though she’s surrounded by WMHS social elite and on her third cup of beer, she can’t get Brittany’s face out of her head. A part of her finally admits defeat and she begins looking for Quinn. The former head Cheerio is sitting by herself. Puck and Finn are nowhere to be found and Quinn has a defeated expression on her face. She is texting someone avidly on her phone.
Santana sits next to her and they stay silent for a while. At least until Quinn reaches over and squeezes her hand.
“Let’s go.” She says, pulling Santana up. It is a rare moment, but Santana follows without speaking a word.
They make their way through the throngs of people who have showed up and Santana just wants to go home and go to sleep. She wants to go to Brittany’s house in the morning and hold the other girl tight and whisper hundreds of apologies in her ear. She wants to take back the fact that she hurt Brittany when it was understood that she was the blonde’s protector.
When Puck is suddenly in front of them she wants to drop-kick him so hard that his stupid mohawk comes off. Quinn glares at him.
“Puck I really don’t want to-” She cuts herself off as Finn appears behind the other boy’s shoulder with an air of panic that matches the grim look in Puck’s eyes. Aside from classes, football, and glee, the two boys have not been seen willingly in one another’s presence since sectionals. The sight of them together is surprising enough that even Santana’s shitty mood is put on hold.
“I just got a call from my mom, she’s working night shift. Mike Chang’s in the hospital.” Puck says lowly.
The two girls are taken aback.
“What happened?” Quinn asks with shock.
“He got into a car accident.” Finn says, the words tumbling quickly and awkwardly from his lips. Any animosity between the teens is forgotten in this moment.
“Is he okay?” Santana asks, worry furrowing lines into her forehead.
“My mom doesn’t know too much,” Puck admits. “but he was talking when they brought him in.” The girls look hopeful at that.
Finn shuffles, “Mike left the party early.” He can’t seem to look either of them in the face. “He um, he was taking Brittany home. She was with him when they got hit.”
His admission is met with silence.
Santana is certain that her heart has leapt from her chest and shattered somewhere around her feet. But inaction is what got her here in the first place, so she instead leaps and grabs Puck’s keys from his hand, ignoring his startled, “Hey!”
She makes it five steps toward the door, powering through people she couldn’t give a damn about. She is only stopped when Finn, in a display of his freakish height and strength, plucks her straight off of the ground.
“Get the fuck off of me!” She roars, kicking out at air. “I have to go! I have to be there!” Her brain is running on high speed and she is more than desperate. Appearances mean nothing to her because they may have cost her Brittany. Quinn reaches up and takes Santana’s face between her hands firmly.
“Santana stop.” Quinn is fearful on the inside, but it is nothing compared to the raw pain that the other girl is so clearly experiencing. She is almost feral in her desperation to rush to Brittany’s side. “You cannot drive. You’re not going to be any help to Brittany if you end up wrapped around a tree.” Her voice is low and serious. Aside from Brittany, she is the only person who can successfully talk Santana down. She is suddenly the Quinn that commanded the Cheerios with an iron fist.
Santana collects herself as Finn slowly sets her on the ground, his arms still wrapped firmly around her. Oddly enough it feels more like a hug than a constraint. But Santana knows that this is ridiculous. No one would be dumb enough to hug her. Not even Finn.
She takes Quinn’s outstretched hand because it’s the only thing tethering her to this moment. The teens make a quick exit from the now silent party. No one notices the attention that they have garnered, least of all Santana.
~*~
The teens meet with Puck’s mother rather quickly once they get to the hospital. Despite hospital policy, when Sara Puckerman looks into the young, desperate faces in front of her, she pulls as many strings as she can in the Emergency Ward and gets them access to their friends.
They inevitably split; the boys toward Mike and the girls toward Brittany. Neither Puck nor Finn feels as though they can accompany the girls to Brittany. The outpour of emotion that Santana projects shakes them deeply and the two boys that most people claim as completely emotionally dense, understand that what is going on with Santana is too private for either of them to witness.
Even though Santana has the endurance that is expected of a three sport athlete of her caliber, the walk down the stark white hospital halls is exhausting and she is being largely supported by her pregnant friend. They reach a dark room and stop. Santana is quivering with fear and Quinn is silent.
Finally, Santana reaches out and twists the door handle to slip into the room that smells heavily of antiseptic. The eerie stillness of the room is only broken by the persistent beeps of machinery.
And there in the moonlight, like some kind of Nordic faerie, lays Brittany. The silver moon highlights the girl’s pale features and bleeds them out into a stark nakedness that perturbs Santana. The injured girl is very still and Santana can make out the cuts that mar smooth skin and butterfly tape that has been used on a particularly deep wound over a pale blonde brow. What truly scares her is the large patch of gauze secured to the dancer’s temple and the white cast on her arm. Red blood has already seeped and made its presence known on the gauze. Santana eyes fall onto the thin tubing that runs into Brittany’s nose and feels her knees buckle.
Quinn holds her up.
Somehow she finds herself next to the bed and her hand acts of its own accord. It laces her fingers through Brittany’s on her good hand and Santana’s free hand moves to softly trace an alabaster cheekbone.
When hazy ice blue eyes blink open, Santana lets out a sob of relief.
“S?” Brittany asks softly.
“Yeah baby. I’m here.” She says bringing the hand between her own up and pressing a gentle kiss to it.
“ ‘M sorry, S. I forgot at the party, I’m sorry that I forgot.” Brittany’s voice is exhausted but earnest and Santana weeps silently with regret.
“No Britt. Don’t be sorry, okay? You’re perfect, you’re here and you’re perfect.” She says leaning down to whisper into Brittany’s ear. She leans her forehead to Brittany’s with the barest amount of contact she can humanly manage, terrified that she’ll do something wrong and Brittany will disappear.
“S?”
“Yeah baby?”
“They gave me a white cast. It’s ugly.”
When Santana laughs, it comes out brokenly. “I’ll make it better later, okay? And I’ll carry your books when you come back to school.” She feels Brittany nod slowly, both are aware of the massive changes that Santana is committing herself to.
“Okay” There is a pause before, “S?”
“Yeah?”
“My head hurts really bad.”Santana begins to pull away with the urgent need to make everything alright and threaten some nurses into action.
“I’m going to get a nurse.” Brittany’s attempt to sit up and her grunt of pain stop Santana dead in her tracks. She rushes back to help Brittany lie down again. “Baby, don’t move around.”
Brittany ignores her and pale blue pleads with eyes the softest shade of brown.
“Just… stay with me?”
Santana feels herself melt and knows that she can never deny Brittany ever again, she’ll personally lay the smackdown on the whole high school if she has to. The first smile that she’s had in hours graces her face and she nods.
“Always.” Brittany moves over in the narrow hospital bed, Santana helping her. Both are acutely aware of her injured ribs. Santana settles very carefully next to Brittany and slings her arm around the blonde’s shoulders. Her forehead comes to rest against Brittany’s cheek and she breathes the other girl in.
And then Santana falls apart. She sobs and tears burn paths down the planes of her cheeks. She is aware that her forehead is no longer resting on a cheek, but rather the soft press of lips. She buries her face into Brittany’s neck, memorizing everything that she can feel of the other girl and this moment. She even memorizes the salt of her tears.
Finally she calms and gathers the courage to ask something of another person. Cause Santana doesn’t ask, she takes. But this is Brittany, and Brittany breaks every rule she’s ever held and dances gracefully on the destroyed remains.
“Britt?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t leave me? Or if you have to because I’m being a total bitch, please just always come back.”
There is another pause as Brittany really processes what is being asked of her. With her good hand she caresses Santana’s jaw and looks down at the girl burrowed into her neck.
“If you chase me Santana, I’ll always come back.” She says simply.
Santana sighs in relief and moves impossibly closer.
“Okay.”
And from the doorway Quinn watches with careful eyes until Brittany’s breathing becomes deep and steady.
“Q?”
“Yeah, S?”
“Thanks.” A word that usually would demand at least a grimace from Santana is given without hesitation. Quinn doesn’t comment. Instead, she informs her of the most recent developments.
“Mike’s fine, just a little bruised up, the other driver broke his leg, but he was drunk, I’m pretty sure Coach Sylvester almost castrated him for putting Britt in that bed, and Sylvester got you full access to Brittany’s room. She threatened the head of the hospital with a baseball bat and pictures of him cheating on his wife.”
Santana nods without surprise. Sylvester knew everything, Quinn’s situation being the sole exception. She would go to any lengths to have her Cheerios in performing order; her star choreographer had to be kept happy. Santana wanted to personally rip the drunk driver apart, but she had faith that Sylvester would take good care of the situation. The head of the Cheerios was a master at tearing people down.
“S? Don’t fuck up again. B’s got Mike Chang gunning for her really hard and I know for a fact that the Asian chick in glee stutters and blushes more whenever they work on choreography together.”
“Well they can go fuck themselves sideways. She’s mine.” Santana mutters into Brittany shoulder.
Quinn let’s a small smile crack before turning to see Sue Sylvester out in the hall on her cell phone calling in every lawyer she knows. Quietly she closes the door, but not before hearing Brittany quietly murmur, “Love you, Santana.”
She waits until Santana responds.
“Love you too, babe. Go to sleep, okay? I’ve got you.”
“We’ll fix the cast?”
“Tomorrow morning, I promise.”
It is enough for Quinn to let the door click in place. Her face sets into a grim mask before pulling out her own cell phone.
“Baby?... I know I’m sorry, it was a stupid party...” She trails off as her girlfriend begins to rant on the other end of the phone about how she was only reinforcing the social hierarchy by attending functions whose primary role was to exclude others and get drunk.
“Rachel, shut up.” She finally says firmly. “Look I need your help, I need you to get your daddy on the phone, Brittany and Mike got hit by a drunk driver and I wanna make sure the bastard is miserable. Will he and his partners take the case on?” Quinn pauses to hear Rachel’s horrified gasp and her headlong rush into a new rant about how irresponsible drunk drivers needed to rot in dark cells. She finally hangs up after Rachel agrees to talk to her father about the entire thing.
Sylvester looks up from her own conversation and a wicked grin steals over her face. “Fantastic move, Q! We’ll have the bastard strung up by his balls.” Sylvester catches sight at the physical therapist headed her way and rushes toward the now terrified man, barking out orders about how she wants to make sure her best dancer gets only the best treatment.
Quinn can already see Sylvester’s plans for getting Brittany back into performance shape and milking the accident for a story on Fox Sports Net about how her Cheerios overcame obstacles only to take and win the National Championship. She turns back to Brittany’s room and see Santana bring her hand up to lace her fingers together with Brittany’s.
She turns away with a smile. Brittany’s got Santana, she’s got Rachel, and Sylvester’s got a dumbass to tar and feather in her news segment.
Everything’s looking up.
Pairing: Santana/Brittany (primarily)
Rating: PG-13 for now
Summary: Santana and Brittany are undeniable. But so is the fact that they live in Lima, Ohio.
Spoilers: Err not really much of canon is exposed, I mean everyone knows Quinn's preggers right?
Title: Looking Up
Pairing: Santana/Brittany (primarily)
Rating: PG-13 for now
Summary: Santana and Brittany are undeniable. But so is the fact that they live in Lima, Ohio.
Santana is certain of many things. She knows that she is going to leave Lima and Ohio far, far behind her. She knows that the Cheerios are merely a tool, if she can utilize them to stay at the top of the social pyramid of WMHS, then she can escape this stupid little life without too many scars (she ignores the fact that she is the one currently inflicting the scars). She knows that being the head of the Cheerios, being on the track team, being at the top of her advanced classes, and being in as many clubs as she is, she’s a shoe-in for a bunch of scholarships.
She can string along as many boys as she wants. They’re at the top of the school’s social ladder but they are all completely meaningless. She feels nothing when they touch her and when they kiss her all Santana can focus on is how they will help put her above the other girls and how long she has to let them hang around her before she can throw them to the side. Everyone in her life is meant to be used and left behind when they can offer her nothing else. Boys help to cultivate her ruthless image.
There’s only one problem.
She doesn’t want any of them. The one person she wants does not fit into her plan of escaping Lima unscathed.
Santana doesn’t want Brittany to use her. Santana wants Brittany because she wants to know every curve and line of the other girl. She wants to discover every part of her and conquer it. She wants Brittany for no other reason than the fact that she cares about her, maybe even... But conquerors are not afforded the luxury of caring.
At least, that’s what she tells herself.
The only time that Brittany has ever been absolutely certain about anything is when she feels music moving through her body. Rachel Berry sings the way that Brittany moves. It is as though in that moment, there is nothing but the act of music, making it real, making it physical. Brittany wants to dance forever.
There are many things that Brittany is uncertain about. School comes to mind, but even though her teachers have always told her that her education is the only way to go anywhere, she feels something inside of her that tells her differently. How can school provide a future if she’s just no good at it? Brittany knows that she’s going to dance into her future, no matter how many mean math teachers tell her that she’s being unrealistic.
But popularity, that’s another thing that Brittany is confused by. It just happened when she moved to Lima from an even smaller town in Michigan. She never tried to be popular; Sue Sylvester had seen her dance at a ballet recital in the summer before seventh grade. Before she had even made any friends, her parents had enrolled her into Sue Sylvester’s Camp for Preteen Performers. Most people called it the Cheerios Manufacturing Plant.
That was where she met Quinn. More importantly it’s where she met Santana.
If there’s anything else that Brittany knows, it’s that she loves Santana. If there’s anything that Brittany is confused by, it’s why she can’t lean over and kiss Santana in the middle of the hall. But Santana says that they can’t and Santana knows these things.
When they’re alone in the mirrored rehearsal room, Santana will watch Brittany dance. She gets this look in her eye and Brittany feels her love in the same way that she feels the music roll through every nerve in her body. She dances and makes music tangible; when they’re alone with only their reflections for company, they make their love real. She reaches out and Santana will take her hand and pull her close like in salsa dancing, except the only spinning that happens is when their lips meet and their bodies press together close enough that Brittany can feel Santana’s heart beating against her own chest.
Brittany knows by her heartbeat that something about them scares Santana. But she knows that when she’s dancing into her future, she wants Santana to be dancing next to her.
~*~
Fuck.
That’s the only though running through Santana’s head as she watches Brittany back away from her with wide, hurt, blue eyes. The look on the blonde’s face cracks something deep inside the other girl.
“Britt,” she pleads, reaching out the way she’s done a million times before.
Brittany does not take her hand.
Instead the blonde cheerleader does an about-face and flees from the kitchen that they’ve been occupying to get away from the rowdy party going on outside. She clips the entering Quinn’s shoulder as she tries to escape.
“Woah, Brittany! What’s wr-” But she’s gone before Quinn can finish.
Santana’s eyes follow her out into the large group of jocks and Cheerios until she is lost in the crowd.
“What the hell did you do?”
Her eyes snap back find Quinn with an expression that expects answers. She sneers instead of confiding.
“Mind your own fucking business, Juno.”
She tries to walk past the other girl and attempts not to reveal the fact that her eyes are scanning the crowd once again. A solid grip on her wrist tugs her back into place and she’s looking into hazel eyes when she wants to be downing ten shots of tequila to forget what just happened.
“She’s not going to wait around for you forever.” Quinn whispers softly.
Santana wants to say something, to make some snide comment, but she can’t. Instead she breaks eye contact and physical contact with Quinn.
Run. Find her. Tell her you’re sorry. Don’t let her go. Make her stop hurting.
Instead of doing any of the things that her mind and heart are screaming at her, she turns and walks toward the kegs and the boys handing out frothing cups to the Cheerios around them. She can feel as Quinn looks on with disappointment. She ignores it.
~*~
They’re laughing and Santana pulls Brittany into the house that the victory party for the football team is being hosted at. Their hands are linked tightly. When Santana looks up, she looks directly into glacier blue eyes and smiles before turning to rummage through the fridge at the far end of the kitchen.
Brittany hikes herself up onto the counter; oblivious to the constraints that her tiny skirt should put on her. Santana is far from oblivious when she realizes the red that she’s seeing is Brittany’s favorite red lace thong. She quickly turns away and swallows hard as she hears people throughout the house and the crowd in the back yard.
Now is not the time.
A sharp giggle sounds from somewhere in the house lets loose and a drunken masculine whisper of; “Quiet, they’ll hear.” drifts from the stair case. Santana’s knuckles tighten on the refrigerator handle at the accumulating reminders that they are not alone. A slender pale hand slides over hers and a kiss is pressed against her shoulder from behind.
She jerks away.
“Stop.” She hisses, cutting her eyes toward the blonde.
Brittany looks confused, her hand hovering above empty air.
“What, what did I do?” Her voice trembles, Santana is hardly ever short with her. Everyone else had to tread cautiously when it came to Santana, but not Brittany. Brittany was exempt from that particular rule.
“Just stop. Alright?” Santana says nervously as people pass them heading into the living room. But it isn’t hesitant, it comes out agitated. She is on edge; there are too many people around for her to be comfortable.
“Santana,” Brittany puts her hand on Santana’s shoulder.
“God, why are you being so stupid?!” Santana says, brushing the hand away. She freezes, realizing what she has just said. She has never said anything like that, especially not that word. Not to Brittany.
She looks up and sees that those glacier blue eyes are wet with tears.
Fuck.
~*~
Even though she’s surrounded by WMHS social elite and on her third cup of beer, she can’t get Brittany’s face out of her head. A part of her finally admits defeat and she begins looking for Quinn. The former head Cheerio is sitting by herself. Puck and Finn are nowhere to be found and Quinn has a defeated expression on her face. She is texting someone avidly on her phone.
Santana sits next to her and they stay silent for a while. At least until Quinn reaches over and squeezes her hand.
“Let’s go.” She says, pulling Santana up. It is a rare moment, but Santana follows without speaking a word.
They make their way through the throngs of people who have showed up and Santana just wants to go home and go to sleep. She wants to go to Brittany’s house in the morning and hold the other girl tight and whisper hundreds of apologies in her ear. She wants to take back the fact that she hurt Brittany when it was understood that she was the blonde’s protector.
When Puck is suddenly in front of them she wants to drop-kick him so hard that his stupid mohawk comes off. Quinn glares at him.
“Puck I really don’t want to-” She cuts herself off as Finn appears behind the other boy’s shoulder with an air of panic that matches the grim look in Puck’s eyes. Aside from classes, football, and glee, the two boys have not been seen willingly in one another’s presence since sectionals. The sight of them together is surprising enough that even Santana’s shitty mood is put on hold.
“I just got a call from my mom, she’s working night shift. Mike Chang’s in the hospital.” Puck says lowly.
The two girls are taken aback.
“What happened?” Quinn asks with shock.
“He got into a car accident.” Finn says, the words tumbling quickly and awkwardly from his lips. Any animosity between the teens is forgotten in this moment.
“Is he okay?” Santana asks, worry furrowing lines into her forehead.
“My mom doesn’t know too much,” Puck admits. “but he was talking when they brought him in.” The girls look hopeful at that.
Finn shuffles, “Mike left the party early.” He can’t seem to look either of them in the face. “He um, he was taking Brittany home. She was with him when they got hit.”
His admission is met with silence.
Santana is certain that her heart has leapt from her chest and shattered somewhere around her feet. But inaction is what got her here in the first place, so she instead leaps and grabs Puck’s keys from his hand, ignoring his startled, “Hey!”
She makes it five steps toward the door, powering through people she couldn’t give a damn about. She is only stopped when Finn, in a display of his freakish height and strength, plucks her straight off of the ground.
“Get the fuck off of me!” She roars, kicking out at air. “I have to go! I have to be there!” Her brain is running on high speed and she is more than desperate. Appearances mean nothing to her because they may have cost her Brittany. Quinn reaches up and takes Santana’s face between her hands firmly.
“Santana stop.” Quinn is fearful on the inside, but it is nothing compared to the raw pain that the other girl is so clearly experiencing. She is almost feral in her desperation to rush to Brittany’s side. “You cannot drive. You’re not going to be any help to Brittany if you end up wrapped around a tree.” Her voice is low and serious. Aside from Brittany, she is the only person who can successfully talk Santana down. She is suddenly the Quinn that commanded the Cheerios with an iron fist.
Santana collects herself as Finn slowly sets her on the ground, his arms still wrapped firmly around her. Oddly enough it feels more like a hug than a constraint. But Santana knows that this is ridiculous. No one would be dumb enough to hug her. Not even Finn.
She takes Quinn’s outstretched hand because it’s the only thing tethering her to this moment. The teens make a quick exit from the now silent party. No one notices the attention that they have garnered, least of all Santana.
~*~
The teens meet with Puck’s mother rather quickly once they get to the hospital. Despite hospital policy, when Sara Puckerman looks into the young, desperate faces in front of her, she pulls as many strings as she can in the Emergency Ward and gets them access to their friends.
They inevitably split; the boys toward Mike and the girls toward Brittany. Neither Puck nor Finn feels as though they can accompany the girls to Brittany. The outpour of emotion that Santana projects shakes them deeply and the two boys that most people claim as completely emotionally dense, understand that what is going on with Santana is too private for either of them to witness.
Even though Santana has the endurance that is expected of a three sport athlete of her caliber, the walk down the stark white hospital halls is exhausting and she is being largely supported by her pregnant friend. They reach a dark room and stop. Santana is quivering with fear and Quinn is silent.
Finally, Santana reaches out and twists the door handle to slip into the room that smells heavily of antiseptic. The eerie stillness of the room is only broken by the persistent beeps of machinery.
And there in the moonlight, like some kind of Nordic faerie, lays Brittany. The silver moon highlights the girl’s pale features and bleeds them out into a stark nakedness that perturbs Santana. The injured girl is very still and Santana can make out the cuts that mar smooth skin and butterfly tape that has been used on a particularly deep wound over a pale blonde brow. What truly scares her is the large patch of gauze secured to the dancer’s temple and the white cast on her arm. Red blood has already seeped and made its presence known on the gauze. Santana eyes fall onto the thin tubing that runs into Brittany’s nose and feels her knees buckle.
Quinn holds her up.
Somehow she finds herself next to the bed and her hand acts of its own accord. It laces her fingers through Brittany’s on her good hand and Santana’s free hand moves to softly trace an alabaster cheekbone.
When hazy ice blue eyes blink open, Santana lets out a sob of relief.
“S?” Brittany asks softly.
“Yeah baby. I’m here.” She says bringing the hand between her own up and pressing a gentle kiss to it.
“ ‘M sorry, S. I forgot at the party, I’m sorry that I forgot.” Brittany’s voice is exhausted but earnest and Santana weeps silently with regret.
“No Britt. Don’t be sorry, okay? You’re perfect, you’re here and you’re perfect.” She says leaning down to whisper into Brittany’s ear. She leans her forehead to Brittany’s with the barest amount of contact she can humanly manage, terrified that she’ll do something wrong and Brittany will disappear.
“S?”
“Yeah baby?”
“They gave me a white cast. It’s ugly.”
When Santana laughs, it comes out brokenly. “I’ll make it better later, okay? And I’ll carry your books when you come back to school.” She feels Brittany nod slowly, both are aware of the massive changes that Santana is committing herself to.
“Okay” There is a pause before, “S?”
“Yeah?”
“My head hurts really bad.”Santana begins to pull away with the urgent need to make everything alright and threaten some nurses into action.
“I’m going to get a nurse.” Brittany’s attempt to sit up and her grunt of pain stop Santana dead in her tracks. She rushes back to help Brittany lie down again. “Baby, don’t move around.”
Brittany ignores her and pale blue pleads with eyes the softest shade of brown.
“Just… stay with me?”
Santana feels herself melt and knows that she can never deny Brittany ever again, she’ll personally lay the smackdown on the whole high school if she has to. The first smile that she’s had in hours graces her face and she nods.
“Always.” Brittany moves over in the narrow hospital bed, Santana helping her. Both are acutely aware of her injured ribs. Santana settles very carefully next to Brittany and slings her arm around the blonde’s shoulders. Her forehead comes to rest against Brittany’s cheek and she breathes the other girl in.
And then Santana falls apart. She sobs and tears burn paths down the planes of her cheeks. She is aware that her forehead is no longer resting on a cheek, but rather the soft press of lips. She buries her face into Brittany’s neck, memorizing everything that she can feel of the other girl and this moment. She even memorizes the salt of her tears.
Finally she calms and gathers the courage to ask something of another person. Cause Santana doesn’t ask, she takes. But this is Brittany, and Brittany breaks every rule she’s ever held and dances gracefully on the destroyed remains.
“Britt?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t leave me? Or if you have to because I’m being a total bitch, please just always come back.”
There is another pause as Brittany really processes what is being asked of her. With her good hand she caresses Santana’s jaw and looks down at the girl burrowed into her neck.
“If you chase me Santana, I’ll always come back.” She says simply.
Santana sighs in relief and moves impossibly closer.
“Okay.”
And from the doorway Quinn watches with careful eyes until Brittany’s breathing becomes deep and steady.
“Q?”
“Yeah, S?”
“Thanks.” A word that usually would demand at least a grimace from Santana is given without hesitation. Quinn doesn’t comment. Instead, she informs her of the most recent developments.
“Mike’s fine, just a little bruised up, the other driver broke his leg, but he was drunk, I’m pretty sure Coach Sylvester almost castrated him for putting Britt in that bed, and Sylvester got you full access to Brittany’s room. She threatened the head of the hospital with a baseball bat and pictures of him cheating on his wife.”
Santana nods without surprise. Sylvester knew everything, Quinn’s situation being the sole exception. She would go to any lengths to have her Cheerios in performing order; her star choreographer had to be kept happy. Santana wanted to personally rip the drunk driver apart, but she had faith that Sylvester would take good care of the situation. The head of the Cheerios was a master at tearing people down.
“S? Don’t fuck up again. B’s got Mike Chang gunning for her really hard and I know for a fact that the Asian chick in glee stutters and blushes more whenever they work on choreography together.”
“Well they can go fuck themselves sideways. She’s mine.” Santana mutters into Brittany shoulder.
Quinn let’s a small smile crack before turning to see Sue Sylvester out in the hall on her cell phone calling in every lawyer she knows. Quietly she closes the door, but not before hearing Brittany quietly murmur, “Love you, Santana.”
She waits until Santana responds.
“Love you too, babe. Go to sleep, okay? I’ve got you.”
“We’ll fix the cast?”
“Tomorrow morning, I promise.”
It is enough for Quinn to let the door click in place. Her face sets into a grim mask before pulling out her own cell phone.
“Baby?... I know I’m sorry, it was a stupid party...” She trails off as her girlfriend begins to rant on the other end of the phone about how she was only reinforcing the social hierarchy by attending functions whose primary role was to exclude others and get drunk.
“Rachel, shut up.” She finally says firmly. “Look I need your help, I need you to get your daddy on the phone, Brittany and Mike got hit by a drunk driver and I wanna make sure the bastard is miserable. Will he and his partners take the case on?” Quinn pauses to hear Rachel’s horrified gasp and her headlong rush into a new rant about how irresponsible drunk drivers needed to rot in dark cells. She finally hangs up after Rachel agrees to talk to her father about the entire thing.
Sylvester looks up from her own conversation and a wicked grin steals over her face. “Fantastic move, Q! We’ll have the bastard strung up by his balls.” Sylvester catches sight at the physical therapist headed her way and rushes toward the now terrified man, barking out orders about how she wants to make sure her best dancer gets only the best treatment.
Quinn can already see Sylvester’s plans for getting Brittany back into performance shape and milking the accident for a story on Fox Sports Net about how her Cheerios overcame obstacles only to take and win the National Championship. She turns back to Brittany’s room and see Santana bring her hand up to lace her fingers together with Brittany’s.
She turns away with a smile. Brittany’s got Santana, she’s got Rachel, and Sylvester’s got a dumbass to tar and feather in her news segment.
Everything’s looking up.