Feelings
Title: Feelings
Pairing: Santana/Brittany
Rating: Uh, I guess PG-13/R-ish?
Summary: Set right after the "Hurt locker scene", Santana drowns her emotions at a motel
Spoilers: Spoilers for Duets(2x4), Blame It(2x14), and Sexy(2x15).
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters...
This is my first Glee fanfic, third written overall (I wrote two Willow/Kennedy fanfics back in the day...). Be kind, give me constructive crits? =]
The song is "Seventy Times 7" by Brand New
“Get off me!” Santana pushed Brittany away and walked briskly away from her, heading outside. She had already caused enough of a scene in the McKinley High hallway and didn’t want everyone else seeing her heart break, mascara streaks running down her face. Waterproof my ass, she thought as she ran across the parking lot. She could barely breathe as she slammed her car door shut and started the ignition.
Her CD player whirred to life and picked up where it last left off this morning. If you see my reflection…
The brunette quickly pushed the audio-off button and hugged the steering wheel. It was all too much for her to handle. She wasn’t used to these feelings… she had always pushed them to the back of her mind. No one had ever made her think about the way she felt during sex; how she was just going through the motions and not giving a damn about herself or the person she was with. She always squeezed her eyes shut while guys were on top of her, drowning out the voices in her head that were telling her that something wasn’t right… that they weren’t Brittany.
Brittany. She had always known in the back of her head that there was something more there. When Brittany had asked Santana to sing a duet with her, Santana panicked. She told her blonde best friend that she wasn’t in love with her even though the voice in her head was screaming at her to stop and look at BritBrit and think about it, put two and two together, and be happy for once. Instead, she called up a random member of the football team that she hadn’t slept with in a while and gave him another go-around, while Brittany forged ahead with Artie. Because of her.
Santana wiped her eyes and put her car in drive, heading out of the parking lot. She didn’t want to think about any of this anymore, and certainly didn’t want to feel. She picked out one of her favorite CDs, one that Brittany never liked listening to (“They’re always screaming, can’t we listen to the one where they’re not mad?”), and selected the ninth song. She felt the need to scream, and this song was perfect.
Back in school they never taught us what we needed to know/
like how to deal with despair, or someone breaking your heart/
For twelve years I've held it all together but a night like this is begging to pull me apart.
Santana filled her car up with sound and drove home, only stopping long enough to grab a few leftover bottles of liquor from her last party. She headed somewhere that no one would ask her how she was feeling - a cheap motel in the seedy area of town, the same one where she deflowered Finn and spent half the night wondering why she couldn’t remember how she felt afterward; she just felt empty.
She chucked the grimy keys on the nightstand and looked through her phone contacts. There were a few people she could call to get her mind off things, so she dialed the first number she saw. A senior football player answered and cockily agreed to drive over to where the Latina was staying. She wasted no time in getting down to business and mindlessly laid there while he pumped in and out. Her eyes shut tight the entire time, she let the world melt away and let the vodka take over her actions, her thoughts, and her feelings.
Hours later, after he left, she kept taking shot after shot of the cheap rum, emptying the second bottle. There wasn’t much in the bottles to begin with but she knew she had too much to drink. She stood up and stumbled to her phone, typing out a quick drunk text without thinking about it - jst 4gt wt i sadi - and sent it the contact most used in her phone.
Almost immediately, a text was sent back. u ok? i dnt want to 4gt, i do love u.
Santana threw her phone across the room and swigged from the last bottle of alcohol. It didn’t burn like the others had earlier so she just chugged it until it was empty. She laid down on the bed and cried herself to sleep, hoping to stop feeling so alone.
She woke up in the middle of the night, still dizzy from the alcohol. She wanted to be in her own bed and away from the shithole she was currently in, where it smelled like sloppy sex and vomit. She grabbed her phone and dialed the one number she had never used before.
Mr. Schuester picked her up, just like he promised he would after she and Brittany had upchucked on stage in front of the entire school. He didn’t ask any questions and didn’t even say a word until he pulled into Santana’s driveway, “If you want to talk…”
“No, I don’t. I… I can’t. Not yet. But thanks for the ride.” The brunette unfastened her safety belt and climbed out of the car. She turned around, gave her glee club advisor a sad smile, and headed inside. She had a lot of feelings she had to work out.
Pairing: Santana/Brittany
Rating: Uh, I guess PG-13/R-ish?
Summary: Set right after the "Hurt locker scene", Santana drowns her emotions at a motel
Spoilers: Spoilers for Duets(2x4), Blame It(2x14), and Sexy(2x15).
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters...
This is my first Glee fanfic, third written overall (I wrote two Willow/Kennedy fanfics back in the day...). Be kind, give me constructive crits? =]
The song is "Seventy Times 7" by Brand New
“Get off me!” Santana pushed Brittany away and walked briskly away from her, heading outside. She had already caused enough of a scene in the McKinley High hallway and didn’t want everyone else seeing her heart break, mascara streaks running down her face. Waterproof my ass, she thought as she ran across the parking lot. She could barely breathe as she slammed her car door shut and started the ignition.
Her CD player whirred to life and picked up where it last left off this morning. If you see my reflection…
The brunette quickly pushed the audio-off button and hugged the steering wheel. It was all too much for her to handle. She wasn’t used to these feelings… she had always pushed them to the back of her mind. No one had ever made her think about the way she felt during sex; how she was just going through the motions and not giving a damn about herself or the person she was with. She always squeezed her eyes shut while guys were on top of her, drowning out the voices in her head that were telling her that something wasn’t right… that they weren’t Brittany.
Brittany. She had always known in the back of her head that there was something more there. When Brittany had asked Santana to sing a duet with her, Santana panicked. She told her blonde best friend that she wasn’t in love with her even though the voice in her head was screaming at her to stop and look at BritBrit and think about it, put two and two together, and be happy for once. Instead, she called up a random member of the football team that she hadn’t slept with in a while and gave him another go-around, while Brittany forged ahead with Artie. Because of her.
Santana wiped her eyes and put her car in drive, heading out of the parking lot. She didn’t want to think about any of this anymore, and certainly didn’t want to feel. She picked out one of her favorite CDs, one that Brittany never liked listening to (“They’re always screaming, can’t we listen to the one where they’re not mad?”), and selected the ninth song. She felt the need to scream, and this song was perfect.
Back in school they never taught us what we needed to know/
like how to deal with despair, or someone breaking your heart/
For twelve years I've held it all together but a night like this is begging to pull me apart.
Santana filled her car up with sound and drove home, only stopping long enough to grab a few leftover bottles of liquor from her last party. She headed somewhere that no one would ask her how she was feeling - a cheap motel in the seedy area of town, the same one where she deflowered Finn and spent half the night wondering why she couldn’t remember how she felt afterward; she just felt empty.
She chucked the grimy keys on the nightstand and looked through her phone contacts. There were a few people she could call to get her mind off things, so she dialed the first number she saw. A senior football player answered and cockily agreed to drive over to where the Latina was staying. She wasted no time in getting down to business and mindlessly laid there while he pumped in and out. Her eyes shut tight the entire time, she let the world melt away and let the vodka take over her actions, her thoughts, and her feelings.
Hours later, after he left, she kept taking shot after shot of the cheap rum, emptying the second bottle. There wasn’t much in the bottles to begin with but she knew she had too much to drink. She stood up and stumbled to her phone, typing out a quick drunk text without thinking about it - jst 4gt wt i sadi - and sent it the contact most used in her phone.
Almost immediately, a text was sent back. u ok? i dnt want to 4gt, i do love u.
Santana threw her phone across the room and swigged from the last bottle of alcohol. It didn’t burn like the others had earlier so she just chugged it until it was empty. She laid down on the bed and cried herself to sleep, hoping to stop feeling so alone.
She woke up in the middle of the night, still dizzy from the alcohol. She wanted to be in her own bed and away from the shithole she was currently in, where it smelled like sloppy sex and vomit. She grabbed her phone and dialed the one number she had never used before.
Mr. Schuester picked her up, just like he promised he would after she and Brittany had upchucked on stage in front of the entire school. He didn’t ask any questions and didn’t even say a word until he pulled into Santana’s driveway, “If you want to talk…”
“No, I don’t. I… I can’t. Not yet. But thanks for the ride.” The brunette unfastened her safety belt and climbed out of the car. She turned around, gave her glee club advisor a sad smile, and headed inside. She had a lot of feelings she had to work out.