Doing It Right (11/18)
Title: Doing It Right, Chapter 11: Out
Author: creedogv
Rating: T
Summary: Santana has been given the opportunity to correct her past mistakes with Brittany, so she can’t help but take it. The world is crumbling around her, but Santana is about to get one more chance to set things right.
Pairing: Santana/Brittany
Spoilers: 2x10 “A Very Glee Christmas”
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 6.5 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10
“You’re out, Wobbles,” Sue told Santana.
“What?” Part of her reaction was the abrupt jump in time, leaving her in the middle of events she couldn’t place. Her eyes scanned the office for clues. A Cheerios calendar was on the wall, open to December. She’d lost at least four days, maybe more. Her eyes returned to her coach. Oh, yeah, what does she mean by “out”?
“You’re off the Cheerios. Do I have to be so overt, or have the flannel, cat hair, and lack of meat in your diet destroyed your hearing?”
Uh-oh. “I don’t get it.”
“C’mon, Lopez, news of your Sapphic tendencies is all over this school.”
Yep, that “out”. “You can’t kick me off the squad for rumors.”
“Rumors you aren’t denying. Face it, kid, you might as well book an appearance on the Ellen show.”
So, “out” for being “out.” Great. “So what if I am gay? I don’t look like a lesbian. I don’t have a girlfriend. I’m still an awesome cheerleader. It’s discrimination.”
“You think I care which way you swing? Of course I’d prefer you to suppress your natural inclinations; conformance is power. What I can’t stomach is lying. You’ve been lying to the whole school. And you’ve been lying to the most important person of all.”
Coach Sylvester was not inclined to that self-help crap. “Myself?” she ventured skeptically.
“No! Me. Sue Sylvester. Face it, Peaches, you’re gone. Surrender your uniforms.”
It was a shoe that she was expecting to drop anyway, even if she wasn’t expecting it so early. The old Santana would have broken down into a weeping mess; the new Santana had enough strength to keep her wits about her. “You want me to strip right here or can I use the locker room?”
“Locker room. And if I ever see you give me that look again, I’ll blind you. Just like...”
“Is this going to be a historically dubious reference to Stevie Wonder or something?”
“Ray Charles. His mother blinded him with a cigarette for showing an interest in making pop bottle wind chimes at the age of 8. I like your spunk, Fancy Fingers. It hurts me to lose my caramel macchiato with a double shot of silicone.”
She wouldn’t miss the boob jokes. “I’ll be back in 20.”
“Make it 15. I need to burn your uniforms to prevent contamination and the janitor turns off the furnace at 3:30.”
“Merry Christmas, Coach.”
“Humbug.”
* * *
Her iPod told her it was December 14th. She’d lost seventeen days.
* * *
Santana came into glee wearing the change of clothes she kept in her car: a white minidress with candy cane knee socks (the ones she and Brittany had bought to wear with their uniforms) and a black leather jacket.
Quinn was the first to run up to her. “Santana, where’s your uniform?”
“Coach kicked me off the squad.”
“Why?”
Santana lowered her voice. “Why do you think? ‘Cause I’m a ‘Betty’.”
Kurt was right behind Quinn. “So? I was way outer than you and I was her star Cheerio. She can’t do that and she wouldn’t do that!” He finally seemed to notice that Quinn was beside him.
Quinn brushed it off. “Please, I’ve been keeping their secret since sophomore year.”
He glanced around. The rest of the club was watching with interest.
“It was more about the closet than the clothes,” Santana explained.
“What’re you going to tell them?” Kurt asked.
“I guess the truth. The whole truth. I might as well.”
“Are you ready for that?”
“It’s not like they haven’t figured it out already.” She looked to Quinn, who shrugged in agreement.
“You’re taking this rather well. Are you in shock?” she asked.
Loudly enough that the members of glee, who’d slowly crept closer could hear, “I was on the Cheerios for the popularity. My rep is already falling. I see the looks; I hear the whispering. If the uniform couldn’t protect me from this, I’ll gladly skip having Sylvester scream her usual mix of obscenities and non-sequiturs two hours a day. I’m glad she kicked me off. Plus I hear there’s an opening on the softball team.”
Everyone’s head abruptly turned to her, their eyes wide and mouths agape.
“Kidding, everyone.”
Mr. Schue, who was trying not to look like he was part of the eavesdropping crowd, did her a favor and dispersed the group, announcing how they were going to going caroling again, to raise money for orphans or something. She noticed that the tree was filled with ornaments, so her autopilot self must still have a larceny streak.
Santana remembered this week. They would be booed by their fellow students. Some of them would be slushied; green apple and cherry would be the preferred flavors due to their festive colors. Sue would rig the teachers’ Secret Santa and then she would vandalize the room on a particularly Grinch-like undercover mission. She would bold-face lie to Brittany when she was caught red-handed.
Santana was having trouble working up the enthusiasm for countering any of these events. On the front row, Artie and Brittany were sharing sweet smiles and holding hands. She hadn’t been lucid for two and a half weeks, and in that time, Brittany and Artie had finally jumped a hurdle and were now in the honeymoon phase. She wondered what she had been doing for the past few weeks. She was only supposed to skip time when something unimportant was happening, or so she thought, and that moment that she’d gone dark was anything but. She hadn’t asked many questions when Ms. Holiday had taken her to the voodoo doctor. She was just too emotional to care at the time.
Maybe it was that. If too intense of an emotional event could trigger a breakout from the trance or whatever she was in, maybe the confrontation she was planning had cause a massive jump. She wasn’t keen on testing that theory and losing another chunk of time and popping back in just in time to see Artie present a promise ring to Brittany. There’s a saying: In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king. I may know a little bit about the future, but I’m not a god. Every second I spend speculating is a second I’m not on task. If I’m going to lose weeks again, I damn well sure am going to have something to show about it next time.
The club practiced “We Need A Little Christmas”. Santana sang along, despite knowing the song would result in a shoe being thrown when they performed it. Maybe I should warn the drummer?
For I’ve grown a little leaner
Grown a little colder
Grown a little sadder
Grown a little older
And I need a little angel
Sitting on my shoulder
I need a little Christmas now
After that, the club broke up by gender for group numbers. Rachel of all people wanted the girls to sing “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen”, giving a solo to every girl in the group.
“Except Brittany,” Santana pointed out.
“I don’t want one. I only sing songs by cultural icons.”
Since no one could name the writer of the song-Tina had suggested “Jesus” and all it’d earned her was a glare from both Quinn and Mercedes-Brittany was happily resigned to sing backup. Santana made sure to sing her part with extra smokiness, knowing Brittany liked that, but the blonde barely noticed, instead watching Artie across the room, practicing a rocked-up version of “Jingle Bells” with the rest of the guys.
Oh, “Fear not,” said the Angel,
“Let nothing you affright,”
This day is born a Savior
Of pure Virgin bright,
To free all those who trust in Him
From Satan’s power and might.”
O tidings of comfort and joy,
Comfort and joy
O tidings of comfort and joy
Santana didn’t get angry. Santana doesn’t get angry, she thought, apparently in the third person, Okay, really Santana is pretty much angry all the time, but she doesn’t let her emotions get the better of her. She always remains on top of things. This is no time to worry about things that you aren’t under your control.
When the rehearsal was over, Santana strolled out of the glee room and was met with a slushy to the face. Sticky, ice-cold crystals poured down her neck and onto her (of course) white dress. Wiping her eyes, she was met with the grinning face of Azimio Adams. “I got you watermelon, since I hear pink’s your color now.”
“Pink is the color of gay men, you idiot!” Okay, not my best comeback.
Wham. Finn had a better one in the form of a punch to the face. Puck jumped in between the two. Azimio surveyed Puck, knowing not to mess with the Mohawked boy. The fire in his eyes told the football player that his probation was the last thing on his mind. He wasn’t going to get into a one-on-one with him. Fortunately for him, the rest of the team walked up, with Karofsky holding back near the rear. Mike and Sam joined Finn and Puck; they were outmatched but it was balanced enough to keep both side weighing their options for the passing moment.
The cold war never heated up because Mr. Schue ran into the hallway. The jocks were dumb enough to get caught fighting by teachers, but not so dumb as to start one in the presence of one. The ‘he started it’ excuse failed to work after that. Will positioned himself between Finn and Azimio, his hands hovering in front of each of their chests.
Finn called out, “Did that feel good, Azimio? You feel powerful? Putting down people that are different from you? Like it’s forty years ago?”
“I think you mean fifty,” Mercedes corrected.
“I know Civil Rights was the 60s. I was talking women’s lib in the 70s.”
Azimio risked a shove forward, but Schue grabbed him by the neck. “Son, I will drag you to Principal Sylvester right now and get you expelled. Finn, that’s enough.”
“But unusually clever,” Puck noted.
Finn explained, “Mrs. Dooley let me redo a term paper of human suffrage. Turns out it has nothing to do with torture. I do listen in class. Most of the time.”
Santana was cold. She was probably crying, too. She’d felt disembodied as she watched the proceedings, not unlike when she’d first jumped back into her body. And she didn’t notice her position until the confrontation came to an end and a strong arm started dragging her into the bathroom. Even though she recognized the shape of the hand from touch alone, she didn’t quite believe who it was until she was positioned in front of a sink and Brittany’s face was looking at her.
“Santana, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
Santana nodded pitifully. “It’s okay. I knew this kind of thing could happen if I came out.”
Brittany wet a paper towel and started to clean off Santana’s face. “Do you have any extra clothes?”
Santana looked down at her ruined dress. It was sticking to her skin, revealing the outline of her bra, and it’d be sexy under any other circumstances. “You’re looking at them.”
Brittany looked down at her Cheerios uniform, noticing once again that Santana wasn’t wearing one, too. It made them look as if they didn’t belong together. “I’ll get you my change of clothes from my locker.”
“Thanks.”
Brittany rewet the towel with warm water and carefully began to scrape off the slush from Santana’s neck, never once feeling any embarrassment about brushing her hand along Santana’s cheeks, neck, or collarbone. “You said ‘come out.’ Kurt says that’s when someone says they’re gay for the first time. Are you saying you’re gay?”
“Yeah,” she replied as if it shouldn’t be a surprise, “didn’t you know?”
“I think I’ve known for like forever, but it’s never been smart for me to trust what I think I know. It was in the newspaper a long time ago, and you never said you weren’t. But you never really said the words.”
I’d love to say the words, Brittany. “So what? You know me. It’s just not something I like to discuss. I’m different than you. You like girls, but you don’t hesitate to talk about it.”
“You said the labels were bad, so I don’t say I was ‘gay’ or a ‘lesbian’ or ‘trisexual’ or whatever.”
“Bisexual?”
“Why would it be ‘bye-sexual’? I mean, you’re not saying ‘bye’ to anybody in bed. You’re ‘trying’ things with anybody.”
Santana chuckled. “That’s a Sex and the City joke you’re mutilating.”
“Oh.” She broached something that had obviously been locked inside her for a while, “So is this what you could talk with Kurt about but not me?”
“Kurt’s gone through this.”
“And Puck?”
“Puck just… he’s there for me.”
Brittany threw the towel in the sink harshly, tears flooding her eyes. “I could be there for you, Santana. I’m your best friend! Or so you keep saying. But we don’t hang out much anymore. And you don’t invite me to your house ever. And you don’t let me touch you. But you let Puck touch you, hold your arm and whatnot. And, guess what, I’m not stupid! Kurt only likes boys, but I like girls, so if anyone could understand how you feel, it’s me. Who else have you told that you’re gay?”
It hurt to admit. “Tina. It wasn’t a big deal; I just kind of said yes to the question. Quinn figured it out a long time ago. After today, all of glee should have figured it out. Even Finn understands.”
“But you couldn’t say anything to me? You know what, Santana? I do consider you my best friend, so since this stuff is so important to you all of a sudden, here it goes: I’m bisexual or trisexual or whatever it is. And I want you to be the first person I say that to. And, just so you know, I miss you touching me. It doesn’t even have to be sexy-touching. I spend all day wishing you would just come up and give me a hug.”
This isn’t my fault, she thought angrily, I was going to tell you… something… and then seventeen goddamn days disappeared. “You’ve got Artie. Go hug him.”
“You wanna know why I started dating Artie? Because of stupid labels. I saw the way people were looking at us after our duet and after the Rocky Horror show…”
Santana interrupted harshly, “Did I look like I cared, Brittany? I wasn’t ashamed like you were.”
“I wasn’t ashamed! I thought it was awesome that you weren’t shy anymore. I was just doing what I thought you’d want us to do and be sneaky. But you changed the rules! You changed all the rules and you didn’t tell me! You didn’t tell me anything. Before, you made what we did a secret.” She paraphrased, “You said everyone else was too stupid to know how cool our lady-kisses were. So, I thought if I started dating Artie and you started dating Puck again, no one would care what we were doing; they wouldn’t think we were gay. But you didn’t play along. All of a sudden, you started telling people you were a lesbian. And after you did, it was like you didn’t even want to do the stuff with me anymore.”
“Hey, back up! Let’s get the timeline straight. I wanted to do stuff with you. I always have. And let’s not forget that we were. But then you started dating Artie, and it was before I changed the rules.” She calmed down, realizing her opportunity, “But you know what? You’re right. I didn’t talk to you. Like always, I didn’t express my feelings. It’s okay, though. I kicked Puck to the curb and never looked back. If you dump Artie, I will gladly starting doing everything with you, and more.” She took Brittany’s hands.
Brittany pulled back. “It’s too late, Santana. I like him now. He’s really sweet, and he actually acts like he wants me, and I can’t break up with him.” She sighed in defeat. “Can’t I just have you both? We never let a boy get in our way before.”
Santana huffed. “‘Both.’ I want to get mad at you, but I can’t. Hanging out with Kurt has exposed me to all the political stuff. People like him and me, gay people… and like you, bi people, they kind have this… fellowship thing with the trannies and other types of queers: the weird people who don’t even like sex and the people who don’t know if they’re boys or girls and basically everyone who isn’t ‘normal’ Stepford people. Anyway, there’s some people who think you can love more than one person at a time and it’s all cool.”
“I think I might be that.”
“I’m have no doubt you are. You love everybody. But Brittany, I’m not. I’m selfish and jealous and I have always been that way. I didn’t care if you slept around, because at the end of the day, I had you in a way no one else did. Now I don’t. And Artie won’t want to share either. He was pissed when Tina wanted to be with Mike, and he’d be pissed if you told him you wanted me, too, in the same way you have him. I’m sorry, baby, but you have to choose.”
Brittany growled, “It’s not fair. I am not going to pick who I like more. I wouldn’t tell Charity that I like Merry Cherry more,” she explained, referring to her cat and her dog. “I wouldn’t tell Lindsay Lohan I liked Mean Girls better than Herbie. I would tell a kiwi Skittle I like it better than grape. Just because things are different than other things doesn’t make some of those things better. Different is what makes them awesome.”
“Brittany…”
“I have to choose Artie,” Brittany declared in a rush. Santana turned around so not to face her. Brittany pleaded, “I’m not picking him over you. He’s my boyfriend and I’m not going to hurt him. If you and me were dating and he asked me out, I’d say no, too.” She put her hand on Santana’s shoulder; the brunette pulled away. Brittany continued, “I saw what Quinn did to Finn last year when she cheated on him with Puck. She hurt him so bad. And she hurt herself so bad. And then this year, she picks Sam over Puck, and I know he doesn’t act like it, but he’s all grumpy about it. Ever since we started high school, I have found a girl crying in a bathroom every week because her boyfriend dumped her for ‘somebody else’, somebody ‘better’. Half the time it was you, and you never dated them anyway.” Santana lowered her eyes at that. “Santana, it kills me when I hurt people, and I think it’s worse for me than anybody else. No matter what I do here, somebody is going to get mad at me, and I hate that. And I don’t hate a lot of things, Santana, but I hate this. I hate Artie for actually liking me and making me like him even though I didn’t think I was going to. I hate me for caring so much about other people’s feelings, because I end up hurting my own feelings. And most of all, I hate you for doing this to me. I never thought I could hate you, Santana. This is all your fault.” With that she ran out of the bathroom.
It was too late for Santana to salvage a damn thing; Brittany was gone. She punched the mirror with all her might. It didn’t shatter, like in the movies, but it did hurt, bruising her knuckles like a bitch. Me and my damn temper. I wonder how many other people are pissed that I didn’t come out to them first.
* * *
Santana found a pink duffel bag in her locker. It was the kind marketed to eight-year-old girls, with flowers and kittens and a smiling sun stitched into the side, along with a name: “Brittany.”
Inside was a set of clothing that made Santana smile; Brittany had a unique sense of style. So, ten minutes later, she was walking through the halls in a pair of lavender capris and a light turquoise blouse with poofy shoulders and a frilly neckline complete with a bow-tie front with fuzzy bobbles connected to the ends of the laces. Santana didn’t really need to add the pink Disney Princess-sized bow to her hair, but it was hers, so she decided to put it on anyway.
I’ve just one wish on this Christmas Eve,
I wish I were with you,
I wish I were with you
On the way to the parking lot, she passed by the auditorium, hearing Rachel singing a song. Lauren Zizes and some of the other members of the A/V club that Santana had never bothered to learn the names of were filing into the room with small artificial Christmas trees on dollies. She didn’t even bother to ask. Maybe it was a performance for Finn or her two gay dads. Maybe she was doing a performance for herself on a whim and it required extensive decorations. Santana wouldn’t put it past her. All this from a girl who considered herself Jewish. Maybe Puck would have some insight. Then again, “Puck” and “insight” might not belong in the same sentence.
Also on her tour to the parking lot was the Spanish room, where she saw that her glee director had moved to. He was making some sort of list. She poked her head in. “Wha’cha up to, Mr. Schue?”
“Secret Santa. I got Sue’s name. I know you’re probably in no mood to help her, but I could use some ideas.”
“Hmmm, a soul?”
“Got that.”
“Something toxic to mix into her protein powder? I’m not saying kill her, but I could forgive some skin discoloration, hair loss, maybe some semipermanent mobility problems.”
Mr. Schue laughed and seemed to realize he probably shouldn’t have. “Thanks, anyway.”
“No prob.” She pulled away and popped her head in once more. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Schue.”
“Christmas break isn’t till the end of the week.” Santana just grinned sheepishly as she left. “Merry Christmas, Santana,” he called out behind her, making a smile appear on her face.
She pulled out her cell phone and scrolled to a now-familiar number as she walked out the doors. “Hey, nene, what’re you up to?”
Kurt responded over the line, “On my way home with Finn. My dad’s agreed to take the family to King’s Island tonight if we both get our homework done. Blaine is in the Christmas Spectacular show, so needless to say I’ll be doing most of Finn’s homework, too.” She heard Finn yell something in the background. “But, seriously, zorra, how are you? That should have been the first words past my lips. Oh, yeah, Finn cares, too.”
“I’m still alive. But that’s the last thing I want to talk about. Things are going well then with the future Mr. Hummel?”
“I suppose. We’re just friends. I know the Warblers are no longer our competition, but it doesn’t mean I’m looking forward to an eighty-mile drive just to go on dates. Yes, Finn, I’m still talking about Blaine.” He was apparently trying to muffle the sound on that last remark by pushing his phone into his shoulder, but since it was an iPhone, it was ineffective.
Santana waited until she heard what she assumed was the sound of Kurt putting the phone back to his ear. “Distance makes the heart grow fonder.”
“Oh, now you’re a romantic. And what ever happened to telling Brittany how you feel?”
Kurt had to have heard the growl over the phone. “Look, I know I froze or whatever at Sectionals.” Honestly, I have no idea what I did at Sectionals, but it’s obvious I didn’t win over Brittany. “But I held up my end of the deal. I just got shot down, okay?”
“I’m so sorry, but…”
“…I shouldn’t have waited, I know. And if you dare try to tell me ‘I told you so’ I must warn you, I know where you hide your magazines. I’d hate for your folks to find them spread out on the coffee table, fan-style.”
“You devious bitch.”
“You flatter me.” Wait a second. “Are we having this discussion in front of Finn?”
“Finn knows. After Brittany took you to the bathroom, we kind of had a glee meeting about everything that was happening. Excluding Artie and Mr. Schue, of course.”
“Thank God. It’s cool. I may not have been much for friends before, but it’s been really nice having your shoulder to lean on. And Puck’s. And, heck, I’m suddenly getting the sympathy of Tina and Fabray and even Rachel. When did my life turn into an episode of The Baby-sitters Club?”
Kurt’s voice was again grave. “Santana?”
“Mmm?”
“This isn’t the end. You’ll get your shot. I guarantee, for prom, I’m going with Blaine and you’re going with Brittany.” His voice was distant as he yelled something to the driver, “Yes, you weird hetero, you’ll go with Berry in this scenario.” And then he was back. “We might have to buy each other’s tickets. And worst case scenario, it’ll be senior prom, but it’ll happen. I promise.”
“I’m holding you to that. Have fun in Cincinnati.”
“Have fun plotting Artie’s demise.”
It was past five o’clock; it was time to make her way home before her mother worried. Dinner that night was going to be chicken pasta salad. It was Brittany’s favorite meal, but the girl wouldn’t be getting an invitation to partake.
How am I going to explain to my parents why I’m wearing one of Brittany’s outfits? …why I’m not wearing my Cheerios uniform? …why I won’t be putting one on tomorrow? …why I’m off the Cheerios? …why my dress is slushy-stained? What if they’ve already heard the lesbian rumors?
The thought of coming out to her parents crossed Santana’s mind. Kurt’s dad had taken it well. Maybe I should get him to come along. She weighed the decision; her parents were Catholic after all. And prejudices aside, they were already pushing Santana’s 20-year-old brother to lock down a girlfriend with good genes. Santana was their only chance at a son-in-law one day.
So, I won’t be coming out tonight. I’ve got a girlfriend to steal and no plans yet on how to do it.
Chapter 12: All I Want For Christmas
Author: creedogv
Rating: T
Summary: Santana has been given the opportunity to correct her past mistakes with Brittany, so she can’t help but take it. The world is crumbling around her, but Santana is about to get one more chance to set things right.
Pairing: Santana/Brittany
Spoilers: 2x10 “A Very Glee Christmas”
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 6.5 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10
“You’re out, Wobbles,” Sue told Santana.
“What?” Part of her reaction was the abrupt jump in time, leaving her in the middle of events she couldn’t place. Her eyes scanned the office for clues. A Cheerios calendar was on the wall, open to December. She’d lost at least four days, maybe more. Her eyes returned to her coach. Oh, yeah, what does she mean by “out”?
“You’re off the Cheerios. Do I have to be so overt, or have the flannel, cat hair, and lack of meat in your diet destroyed your hearing?”
Uh-oh. “I don’t get it.”
“C’mon, Lopez, news of your Sapphic tendencies is all over this school.”
Yep, that “out”. “You can’t kick me off the squad for rumors.”
“Rumors you aren’t denying. Face it, kid, you might as well book an appearance on the Ellen show.”
So, “out” for being “out.” Great. “So what if I am gay? I don’t look like a lesbian. I don’t have a girlfriend. I’m still an awesome cheerleader. It’s discrimination.”
“You think I care which way you swing? Of course I’d prefer you to suppress your natural inclinations; conformance is power. What I can’t stomach is lying. You’ve been lying to the whole school. And you’ve been lying to the most important person of all.”
Coach Sylvester was not inclined to that self-help crap. “Myself?” she ventured skeptically.
“No! Me. Sue Sylvester. Face it, Peaches, you’re gone. Surrender your uniforms.”
It was a shoe that she was expecting to drop anyway, even if she wasn’t expecting it so early. The old Santana would have broken down into a weeping mess; the new Santana had enough strength to keep her wits about her. “You want me to strip right here or can I use the locker room?”
“Locker room. And if I ever see you give me that look again, I’ll blind you. Just like...”
“Is this going to be a historically dubious reference to Stevie Wonder or something?”
“Ray Charles. His mother blinded him with a cigarette for showing an interest in making pop bottle wind chimes at the age of 8. I like your spunk, Fancy Fingers. It hurts me to lose my caramel macchiato with a double shot of silicone.”
She wouldn’t miss the boob jokes. “I’ll be back in 20.”
“Make it 15. I need to burn your uniforms to prevent contamination and the janitor turns off the furnace at 3:30.”
“Merry Christmas, Coach.”
“Humbug.”
* * *
Her iPod told her it was December 14th. She’d lost seventeen days.
* * *
Santana came into glee wearing the change of clothes she kept in her car: a white minidress with candy cane knee socks (the ones she and Brittany had bought to wear with their uniforms) and a black leather jacket.
Quinn was the first to run up to her. “Santana, where’s your uniform?”
“Coach kicked me off the squad.”
“Why?”
Santana lowered her voice. “Why do you think? ‘Cause I’m a ‘Betty’.”
Kurt was right behind Quinn. “So? I was way outer than you and I was her star Cheerio. She can’t do that and she wouldn’t do that!” He finally seemed to notice that Quinn was beside him.
Quinn brushed it off. “Please, I’ve been keeping their secret since sophomore year.”
He glanced around. The rest of the club was watching with interest.
“It was more about the closet than the clothes,” Santana explained.
“What’re you going to tell them?” Kurt asked.
“I guess the truth. The whole truth. I might as well.”
“Are you ready for that?”
“It’s not like they haven’t figured it out already.” She looked to Quinn, who shrugged in agreement.
“You’re taking this rather well. Are you in shock?” she asked.
Loudly enough that the members of glee, who’d slowly crept closer could hear, “I was on the Cheerios for the popularity. My rep is already falling. I see the looks; I hear the whispering. If the uniform couldn’t protect me from this, I’ll gladly skip having Sylvester scream her usual mix of obscenities and non-sequiturs two hours a day. I’m glad she kicked me off. Plus I hear there’s an opening on the softball team.”
Everyone’s head abruptly turned to her, their eyes wide and mouths agape.
“Kidding, everyone.”
Mr. Schue, who was trying not to look like he was part of the eavesdropping crowd, did her a favor and dispersed the group, announcing how they were going to going caroling again, to raise money for orphans or something. She noticed that the tree was filled with ornaments, so her autopilot self must still have a larceny streak.
Santana remembered this week. They would be booed by their fellow students. Some of them would be slushied; green apple and cherry would be the preferred flavors due to their festive colors. Sue would rig the teachers’ Secret Santa and then she would vandalize the room on a particularly Grinch-like undercover mission. She would bold-face lie to Brittany when she was caught red-handed.
Santana was having trouble working up the enthusiasm for countering any of these events. On the front row, Artie and Brittany were sharing sweet smiles and holding hands. She hadn’t been lucid for two and a half weeks, and in that time, Brittany and Artie had finally jumped a hurdle and were now in the honeymoon phase. She wondered what she had been doing for the past few weeks. She was only supposed to skip time when something unimportant was happening, or so she thought, and that moment that she’d gone dark was anything but. She hadn’t asked many questions when Ms. Holiday had taken her to the voodoo doctor. She was just too emotional to care at the time.
Maybe it was that. If too intense of an emotional event could trigger a breakout from the trance or whatever she was in, maybe the confrontation she was planning had cause a massive jump. She wasn’t keen on testing that theory and losing another chunk of time and popping back in just in time to see Artie present a promise ring to Brittany. There’s a saying: In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king. I may know a little bit about the future, but I’m not a god. Every second I spend speculating is a second I’m not on task. If I’m going to lose weeks again, I damn well sure am going to have something to show about it next time.
The club practiced “We Need A Little Christmas”. Santana sang along, despite knowing the song would result in a shoe being thrown when they performed it. Maybe I should warn the drummer?
For I’ve grown a little leaner
Grown a little colder
Grown a little sadder
Grown a little older
And I need a little angel
Sitting on my shoulder
I need a little Christmas now
After that, the club broke up by gender for group numbers. Rachel of all people wanted the girls to sing “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen”, giving a solo to every girl in the group.
“Except Brittany,” Santana pointed out.
“I don’t want one. I only sing songs by cultural icons.”
Since no one could name the writer of the song-Tina had suggested “Jesus” and all it’d earned her was a glare from both Quinn and Mercedes-Brittany was happily resigned to sing backup. Santana made sure to sing her part with extra smokiness, knowing Brittany liked that, but the blonde barely noticed, instead watching Artie across the room, practicing a rocked-up version of “Jingle Bells” with the rest of the guys.
Oh, “Fear not,” said the Angel,
“Let nothing you affright,”
This day is born a Savior
Of pure Virgin bright,
To free all those who trust in Him
From Satan’s power and might.”
O tidings of comfort and joy,
Comfort and joy
O tidings of comfort and joy
Santana didn’t get angry. Santana doesn’t get angry, she thought, apparently in the third person, Okay, really Santana is pretty much angry all the time, but she doesn’t let her emotions get the better of her. She always remains on top of things. This is no time to worry about things that you aren’t under your control.
When the rehearsal was over, Santana strolled out of the glee room and was met with a slushy to the face. Sticky, ice-cold crystals poured down her neck and onto her (of course) white dress. Wiping her eyes, she was met with the grinning face of Azimio Adams. “I got you watermelon, since I hear pink’s your color now.”
“Pink is the color of gay men, you idiot!” Okay, not my best comeback.
Wham. Finn had a better one in the form of a punch to the face. Puck jumped in between the two. Azimio surveyed Puck, knowing not to mess with the Mohawked boy. The fire in his eyes told the football player that his probation was the last thing on his mind. He wasn’t going to get into a one-on-one with him. Fortunately for him, the rest of the team walked up, with Karofsky holding back near the rear. Mike and Sam joined Finn and Puck; they were outmatched but it was balanced enough to keep both side weighing their options for the passing moment.
The cold war never heated up because Mr. Schue ran into the hallway. The jocks were dumb enough to get caught fighting by teachers, but not so dumb as to start one in the presence of one. The ‘he started it’ excuse failed to work after that. Will positioned himself between Finn and Azimio, his hands hovering in front of each of their chests.
Finn called out, “Did that feel good, Azimio? You feel powerful? Putting down people that are different from you? Like it’s forty years ago?”
“I think you mean fifty,” Mercedes corrected.
“I know Civil Rights was the 60s. I was talking women’s lib in the 70s.”
Azimio risked a shove forward, but Schue grabbed him by the neck. “Son, I will drag you to Principal Sylvester right now and get you expelled. Finn, that’s enough.”
“But unusually clever,” Puck noted.
Finn explained, “Mrs. Dooley let me redo a term paper of human suffrage. Turns out it has nothing to do with torture. I do listen in class. Most of the time.”
Santana was cold. She was probably crying, too. She’d felt disembodied as she watched the proceedings, not unlike when she’d first jumped back into her body. And she didn’t notice her position until the confrontation came to an end and a strong arm started dragging her into the bathroom. Even though she recognized the shape of the hand from touch alone, she didn’t quite believe who it was until she was positioned in front of a sink and Brittany’s face was looking at her.
“Santana, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
Santana nodded pitifully. “It’s okay. I knew this kind of thing could happen if I came out.”
Brittany wet a paper towel and started to clean off Santana’s face. “Do you have any extra clothes?”
Santana looked down at her ruined dress. It was sticking to her skin, revealing the outline of her bra, and it’d be sexy under any other circumstances. “You’re looking at them.”
Brittany looked down at her Cheerios uniform, noticing once again that Santana wasn’t wearing one, too. It made them look as if they didn’t belong together. “I’ll get you my change of clothes from my locker.”
“Thanks.”
Brittany rewet the towel with warm water and carefully began to scrape off the slush from Santana’s neck, never once feeling any embarrassment about brushing her hand along Santana’s cheeks, neck, or collarbone. “You said ‘come out.’ Kurt says that’s when someone says they’re gay for the first time. Are you saying you’re gay?”
“Yeah,” she replied as if it shouldn’t be a surprise, “didn’t you know?”
“I think I’ve known for like forever, but it’s never been smart for me to trust what I think I know. It was in the newspaper a long time ago, and you never said you weren’t. But you never really said the words.”
I’d love to say the words, Brittany. “So what? You know me. It’s just not something I like to discuss. I’m different than you. You like girls, but you don’t hesitate to talk about it.”
“You said the labels were bad, so I don’t say I was ‘gay’ or a ‘lesbian’ or ‘trisexual’ or whatever.”
“Bisexual?”
“Why would it be ‘bye-sexual’? I mean, you’re not saying ‘bye’ to anybody in bed. You’re ‘trying’ things with anybody.”
Santana chuckled. “That’s a Sex and the City joke you’re mutilating.”
“Oh.” She broached something that had obviously been locked inside her for a while, “So is this what you could talk with Kurt about but not me?”
“Kurt’s gone through this.”
“And Puck?”
“Puck just… he’s there for me.”
Brittany threw the towel in the sink harshly, tears flooding her eyes. “I could be there for you, Santana. I’m your best friend! Or so you keep saying. But we don’t hang out much anymore. And you don’t invite me to your house ever. And you don’t let me touch you. But you let Puck touch you, hold your arm and whatnot. And, guess what, I’m not stupid! Kurt only likes boys, but I like girls, so if anyone could understand how you feel, it’s me. Who else have you told that you’re gay?”
It hurt to admit. “Tina. It wasn’t a big deal; I just kind of said yes to the question. Quinn figured it out a long time ago. After today, all of glee should have figured it out. Even Finn understands.”
“But you couldn’t say anything to me? You know what, Santana? I do consider you my best friend, so since this stuff is so important to you all of a sudden, here it goes: I’m bisexual or trisexual or whatever it is. And I want you to be the first person I say that to. And, just so you know, I miss you touching me. It doesn’t even have to be sexy-touching. I spend all day wishing you would just come up and give me a hug.”
This isn’t my fault, she thought angrily, I was going to tell you… something… and then seventeen goddamn days disappeared. “You’ve got Artie. Go hug him.”
“You wanna know why I started dating Artie? Because of stupid labels. I saw the way people were looking at us after our duet and after the Rocky Horror show…”
Santana interrupted harshly, “Did I look like I cared, Brittany? I wasn’t ashamed like you were.”
“I wasn’t ashamed! I thought it was awesome that you weren’t shy anymore. I was just doing what I thought you’d want us to do and be sneaky. But you changed the rules! You changed all the rules and you didn’t tell me! You didn’t tell me anything. Before, you made what we did a secret.” She paraphrased, “You said everyone else was too stupid to know how cool our lady-kisses were. So, I thought if I started dating Artie and you started dating Puck again, no one would care what we were doing; they wouldn’t think we were gay. But you didn’t play along. All of a sudden, you started telling people you were a lesbian. And after you did, it was like you didn’t even want to do the stuff with me anymore.”
“Hey, back up! Let’s get the timeline straight. I wanted to do stuff with you. I always have. And let’s not forget that we were. But then you started dating Artie, and it was before I changed the rules.” She calmed down, realizing her opportunity, “But you know what? You’re right. I didn’t talk to you. Like always, I didn’t express my feelings. It’s okay, though. I kicked Puck to the curb and never looked back. If you dump Artie, I will gladly starting doing everything with you, and more.” She took Brittany’s hands.
Brittany pulled back. “It’s too late, Santana. I like him now. He’s really sweet, and he actually acts like he wants me, and I can’t break up with him.” She sighed in defeat. “Can’t I just have you both? We never let a boy get in our way before.”
Santana huffed. “‘Both.’ I want to get mad at you, but I can’t. Hanging out with Kurt has exposed me to all the political stuff. People like him and me, gay people… and like you, bi people, they kind have this… fellowship thing with the trannies and other types of queers: the weird people who don’t even like sex and the people who don’t know if they’re boys or girls and basically everyone who isn’t ‘normal’ Stepford people. Anyway, there’s some people who think you can love more than one person at a time and it’s all cool.”
“I think I might be that.”
“I’m have no doubt you are. You love everybody. But Brittany, I’m not. I’m selfish and jealous and I have always been that way. I didn’t care if you slept around, because at the end of the day, I had you in a way no one else did. Now I don’t. And Artie won’t want to share either. He was pissed when Tina wanted to be with Mike, and he’d be pissed if you told him you wanted me, too, in the same way you have him. I’m sorry, baby, but you have to choose.”
Brittany growled, “It’s not fair. I am not going to pick who I like more. I wouldn’t tell Charity that I like Merry Cherry more,” she explained, referring to her cat and her dog. “I wouldn’t tell Lindsay Lohan I liked Mean Girls better than Herbie. I would tell a kiwi Skittle I like it better than grape. Just because things are different than other things doesn’t make some of those things better. Different is what makes them awesome.”
“Brittany…”
“I have to choose Artie,” Brittany declared in a rush. Santana turned around so not to face her. Brittany pleaded, “I’m not picking him over you. He’s my boyfriend and I’m not going to hurt him. If you and me were dating and he asked me out, I’d say no, too.” She put her hand on Santana’s shoulder; the brunette pulled away. Brittany continued, “I saw what Quinn did to Finn last year when she cheated on him with Puck. She hurt him so bad. And she hurt herself so bad. And then this year, she picks Sam over Puck, and I know he doesn’t act like it, but he’s all grumpy about it. Ever since we started high school, I have found a girl crying in a bathroom every week because her boyfriend dumped her for ‘somebody else’, somebody ‘better’. Half the time it was you, and you never dated them anyway.” Santana lowered her eyes at that. “Santana, it kills me when I hurt people, and I think it’s worse for me than anybody else. No matter what I do here, somebody is going to get mad at me, and I hate that. And I don’t hate a lot of things, Santana, but I hate this. I hate Artie for actually liking me and making me like him even though I didn’t think I was going to. I hate me for caring so much about other people’s feelings, because I end up hurting my own feelings. And most of all, I hate you for doing this to me. I never thought I could hate you, Santana. This is all your fault.” With that she ran out of the bathroom.
It was too late for Santana to salvage a damn thing; Brittany was gone. She punched the mirror with all her might. It didn’t shatter, like in the movies, but it did hurt, bruising her knuckles like a bitch. Me and my damn temper. I wonder how many other people are pissed that I didn’t come out to them first.
* * *
Santana found a pink duffel bag in her locker. It was the kind marketed to eight-year-old girls, with flowers and kittens and a smiling sun stitched into the side, along with a name: “Brittany.”
Inside was a set of clothing that made Santana smile; Brittany had a unique sense of style. So, ten minutes later, she was walking through the halls in a pair of lavender capris and a light turquoise blouse with poofy shoulders and a frilly neckline complete with a bow-tie front with fuzzy bobbles connected to the ends of the laces. Santana didn’t really need to add the pink Disney Princess-sized bow to her hair, but it was hers, so she decided to put it on anyway.
I’ve just one wish on this Christmas Eve,
I wish I were with you,
I wish I were with you
On the way to the parking lot, she passed by the auditorium, hearing Rachel singing a song. Lauren Zizes and some of the other members of the A/V club that Santana had never bothered to learn the names of were filing into the room with small artificial Christmas trees on dollies. She didn’t even bother to ask. Maybe it was a performance for Finn or her two gay dads. Maybe she was doing a performance for herself on a whim and it required extensive decorations. Santana wouldn’t put it past her. All this from a girl who considered herself Jewish. Maybe Puck would have some insight. Then again, “Puck” and “insight” might not belong in the same sentence.
Also on her tour to the parking lot was the Spanish room, where she saw that her glee director had moved to. He was making some sort of list. She poked her head in. “Wha’cha up to, Mr. Schue?”
“Secret Santa. I got Sue’s name. I know you’re probably in no mood to help her, but I could use some ideas.”
“Hmmm, a soul?”
“Got that.”
“Something toxic to mix into her protein powder? I’m not saying kill her, but I could forgive some skin discoloration, hair loss, maybe some semipermanent mobility problems.”
Mr. Schue laughed and seemed to realize he probably shouldn’t have. “Thanks, anyway.”
“No prob.” She pulled away and popped her head in once more. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Schue.”
“Christmas break isn’t till the end of the week.” Santana just grinned sheepishly as she left. “Merry Christmas, Santana,” he called out behind her, making a smile appear on her face.
She pulled out her cell phone and scrolled to a now-familiar number as she walked out the doors. “Hey, nene, what’re you up to?”
Kurt responded over the line, “On my way home with Finn. My dad’s agreed to take the family to King’s Island tonight if we both get our homework done. Blaine is in the Christmas Spectacular show, so needless to say I’ll be doing most of Finn’s homework, too.” She heard Finn yell something in the background. “But, seriously, zorra, how are you? That should have been the first words past my lips. Oh, yeah, Finn cares, too.”
“I’m still alive. But that’s the last thing I want to talk about. Things are going well then with the future Mr. Hummel?”
“I suppose. We’re just friends. I know the Warblers are no longer our competition, but it doesn’t mean I’m looking forward to an eighty-mile drive just to go on dates. Yes, Finn, I’m still talking about Blaine.” He was apparently trying to muffle the sound on that last remark by pushing his phone into his shoulder, but since it was an iPhone, it was ineffective.
Santana waited until she heard what she assumed was the sound of Kurt putting the phone back to his ear. “Distance makes the heart grow fonder.”
“Oh, now you’re a romantic. And what ever happened to telling Brittany how you feel?”
Kurt had to have heard the growl over the phone. “Look, I know I froze or whatever at Sectionals.” Honestly, I have no idea what I did at Sectionals, but it’s obvious I didn’t win over Brittany. “But I held up my end of the deal. I just got shot down, okay?”
“I’m so sorry, but…”
“…I shouldn’t have waited, I know. And if you dare try to tell me ‘I told you so’ I must warn you, I know where you hide your magazines. I’d hate for your folks to find them spread out on the coffee table, fan-style.”
“You devious bitch.”
“You flatter me.” Wait a second. “Are we having this discussion in front of Finn?”
“Finn knows. After Brittany took you to the bathroom, we kind of had a glee meeting about everything that was happening. Excluding Artie and Mr. Schue, of course.”
“Thank God. It’s cool. I may not have been much for friends before, but it’s been really nice having your shoulder to lean on. And Puck’s. And, heck, I’m suddenly getting the sympathy of Tina and Fabray and even Rachel. When did my life turn into an episode of The Baby-sitters Club?”
Kurt’s voice was again grave. “Santana?”
“Mmm?”
“This isn’t the end. You’ll get your shot. I guarantee, for prom, I’m going with Blaine and you’re going with Brittany.” His voice was distant as he yelled something to the driver, “Yes, you weird hetero, you’ll go with Berry in this scenario.” And then he was back. “We might have to buy each other’s tickets. And worst case scenario, it’ll be senior prom, but it’ll happen. I promise.”
“I’m holding you to that. Have fun in Cincinnati.”
“Have fun plotting Artie’s demise.”
It was past five o’clock; it was time to make her way home before her mother worried. Dinner that night was going to be chicken pasta salad. It was Brittany’s favorite meal, but the girl wouldn’t be getting an invitation to partake.
How am I going to explain to my parents why I’m wearing one of Brittany’s outfits? …why I’m not wearing my Cheerios uniform? …why I won’t be putting one on tomorrow? …why I’m off the Cheerios? …why my dress is slushy-stained? What if they’ve already heard the lesbian rumors?
The thought of coming out to her parents crossed Santana’s mind. Kurt’s dad had taken it well. Maybe I should get him to come along. She weighed the decision; her parents were Catholic after all. And prejudices aside, they were already pushing Santana’s 20-year-old brother to lock down a girlfriend with good genes. Santana was their only chance at a son-in-law one day.
So, I won’t be coming out tonight. I’ve got a girlfriend to steal and no plans yet on how to do it.
Chapter 12: All I Want For Christmas