Doing It Right (12/18)
Title: Doing It Right, 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. It’s time for some Christmas miracles.
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 Chapter 11
Santana ran into Finn in the halls the next day, so she grabbed him and thanked him for his speech to her to Azimio.
“You saved my ass. I completely froze. And not because of the slushy.”
“Hey, it’s no problem.”
“Finn, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.” She didn’t go with her prepared speech. “I don’t know if you and Rachel have... you know. But if you haven’t, you really need to tell her about us before you do. And, just saying, soon would be good. You’ve probably gotten major brownie points for that gay rights speech, which totally makes up for the bailing on Kurt thing. And, also, since I’m gay, I think she’ll be a little less threatened. A little, though. Girls are irrational.”
“Yeah, I kind of gathered. Thanks. I’ll try.”
After Finn left, she enjoyed ten seconds of peace before Artie rolled up to her. “Can I ask you a question about Brittany?”
No way this is going to be a fun conversation.
“Does Brittany believe in Santa Claus?”
Oh, we’re there now.
* * *
When Brittany approached her later that morning, she jumped onto the defensive. But before she could get an apology out, Brittany beat her to it. “I’m sorry, Santana. I was really mean yesterday. I don’t hate you, not even a little bitty bit.”
“No, you were right about one thing. I should have told you sooner. I wanted to and I totally was going to, but... I don’t know, the last couple of weeks I’ve been totally out of it.”
“I noticed.”
“I’m just going through a lot. And I know this doesn’t make up for anything, but...” She visibly steeled herself. “Brittany, I’m gay.”
“Santana, you’re wrong.”
“Um, okay. I suppose it’s a little more complicated. Kurt’s been dropping the term ‘homoaffectionate’ and trying to plot me on a bunch of grids like it’s math class, but it’s getting into that really nitty-gritty gay terminology that-”
Brittany interrupted her, “Stop. I mean you were wrong about it not making up for anything. It totally makes up for everything.” She then remarked officiously and monotonously, “One, I recognize that you trust me. Two, I acknowledge that coming out took a lot of courage. Three, I carry on an honest conversation with you. Four, I express that I am feeling: happy. Five, I accept this and know that you are the same person you always were and I love you.”
A grin appeared on Santana’s face. She pulled a pamphlet out of her backpack and displayed it to Brittany. “Miss P give you one of these?” Brittany nodded guiltily. Santana soothed her, “Hey, it’s awesome that you were willing to do that. Though, it does mean that she must been a hundred percent sure about me being a lesbian. Whatever.”
Brittany reached out to hug Santana before retracting her arms. Santana instead stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Brittany, who hugged her back fiercely, sighing with relief. “Oh, thank you, I’ve been dying to do that for so long.”
“Thanks for being so patient with me. You know, for future reference, I’m kind of over the touching stuff, so we can go back to the way we were. Everything beneath cuddle time, though.”
“Okay!” Brittany agreed, nodding furiously, her leg bouncing with joy like a rabbit’s.
Santana bit her lip. “Hey, you didn’t tell Artie about our conversation in the bathroom, did you?”
“No. He noticed I was mad, though, but I just told him it was because Hannah Montana got cancelled.”
“Thanks.”
“Oh! He’s taking me to see Santa at the mall, and Quinn and Sam and MikeandTina...” she said their names all as one word, “...and Mercedes are all coming with. You should, too. You always visit Santa with me!”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
* * *
It was like watching a video from last time. Seriously, some things just never change at all. Except we’re short a hippo.
Mercedes took her gift request straight from a Christmas song, “I want a pony, and a doll that laughs and cries, and… one of us smells like McDonalds.” It’s you, Santana thought, you and your tots.
“Chap stick. Lots of chap stick.” She wanted to smack the blond boy for obviously having too much fun with this, even though she knew Brittany wouldn’t notice.
“Do you have anything for stretch marks?” Yeah, Sweetie, a condom, a year and a half ago.
“I want Channing Tatum to stop being in stuff.” Except G.I. Joe sequels. Anything to get Rachel Nichols and Sienna Miller back in skintight costumes on a fifty-foot screen.
“When does Asian Santa arrive?”
Santana wanted a lot of things more than jewelry, but there was nothing she could really ask for with Brittany within earshot. So she told the mall Santa, “Bling. I can’t be any more specific than that. Also, maybe you can redirect a couple of your elves away from Legos or whatever it is kids these days want and get them working on a detergent that can get Red Dye #40 out of cashmere?” She didn’t comment on the roll of Certs in his pocket, because she realized this time around it was actually a cluster of candy canes. She gave hers to Mike so he could make a walrus face to Tina.
Brittany hopped up next and Santana waited for her to drop the bombshell. “I know you’re really busy, so this is what I want for Christmas.” She pointed at Artie. “Do you see my boyfriend over there?” Artie waved; Santana rolled her eyes. “For Christmas, I want him to be able to walk. You can do that, can’t you, Santa?”
Everyone’s jaw dropped and Santana mimed it, too. Artie mimed no to Santa, but the guy just said, “Sure. I’m on it.”
Artie whined, “Now we’re screwed.”
She had been expecting this but unsure how to proceed. She had been working on several schemes to fulfill the wish herself, help it along in the background, or prevent it entirely. She hadn’t decided which idea was best yet.
Brittany threw a curveball, though. She was now pointing at her. “And the really pretty girl? She’s my best friend Santana and she’s a...” She stage-whispered the word, “lesbian. I’m not supposed to tell anybody that but you’re Santa so you probably knew that already. Anyway, people at school are being mean to her, so could you make them stop?”
Artie turned to her and deadpanned, “Wow, and I thought her wish for me was hard.”
You’re right, Wheels. We’re screwed.
* * *
The last thing Santana expected to do was to work with Artie again, especially more closely than the last time. He declared, “I don’t know what to do, but we got to fix this. I don’t want to see her crushed.”
“You think I do? Artie, I don’t know how much Brittany’s told you about my new hobby, but I like to fix things now. I’ve been thinking about how to make her wish come true. My dad’s a doctor...”
Artie balked and interrupted her, “If there were an easy medical solution to this, I’d have done it years ago. All the paraplegics would have. Literally, there would be no more paraplegics.”
Santana snapped, “Will you shut up and listen to me for five seconds?! My dad’s best friend from medical school is one of the top prosthetic surgeons in the country. I have access to all kind of physical rehab equipment. We’ll get you crutches, or leg braces, or something. All Brittany cares about it seeing you stand upright and putting one foot in front of the other. She’s a literal person; it’s all the letter of the law for her.” Artie seemed convinced. “Now that I’ve solved your problem, maybe we can work on mine. I’m gonna make you walk. It shouldn’t be too hard for you to de-homophobize the school.”
“Don’t underestimate me, Lopez; I can get creative, too. I live in a world designed for people with two working legs.”
Santana frowned. “Don’t play the cripple card on me. We’re working together on this. I don’t understand your attitude. This is my personality. What’s your excuse?”
“‘Sex isn’t dating.’ I haven’t forgotten that little bombshell she dropped last year.” Santana didn’t like where this was going, but let the boy talk. “Girls experiment; I get it. You and Brittany were always attached at the hip and were really cuddly, but nothing that couldn’t be passed off as normal affection for best friends. Then you did that sexy duet with her. And then Puck tells me you’re totally blowing him off. And, finally, you came out. Now you’re dedicating considerable time to maintaining her belief in Santa. You like her.”
Santana decided there was no reason to hide her feelings. “I’m a lesbian and she’s a hot girl. More than that, she’s my best friend who’s bisexual. It’s not a hopeless crush. You shouldn’t be surprised I’m into her.”
“She’s dating me.”
“I’m aware. And let me tell you something; that girl used to follow me like a puppy dog. I could have abused her loyalty, but I didn’t. A month ago, I could have had her dump your numb ass and never look back. But you make her happy for some reason. Maybe I’d prefer to have her on my arm, but right now… right now we’ve got bigger fish to fry. I’m gonna make you walk if I have to drag you out of that chair and string you up like a puppet. I’m not going to be the one to ruin her belief.”
“Neither will I. And I don’t want this to become a competition. This isn’t the first love triangle I’ve been a part of, and having been on the losing side, I can sympathize with you. But I got over Tina and maybe you should get over Brittany.”
Santana didn’t answer, didn’t make a sound, didn’t even flinch.
* * *
Saving the choir room’s decorations from Sue was the easiest scheme yet, a mere afterthought.
The day before she suspected Coach Sylvester would be “stopping by”, she pickpocketed Mr. Schue’s keys-of course Santana Lopez knew how to pickpocket-and made doubly-sure the room was locked after practice. Since Coach was still the principal and as such would have access to all the rooms, she made sure to fill the keyholes with potter’s clay.
: : :
Artie’s solution for “de-homophobizing” the school wasn’t elegant, but it was effective. Someone-Puck was the primary suspect-sabotaged the slushy machine at the Circle K across the street from McKinley. In addition, Santana now had an entourage around her consisting of Puck, Finn, Sam, or Mike. Quinn had stuck her neck out for her with the Cheerios. (She had dirt on every last one of her squad mates) So, Santana was left out of the rumor mill, as if anything could top her current status, much less the female teacher-female student scandal of the previous semester. The one person who wasn’t let in on the mission was Brittany, who smiled every time she walked by, seeing her best friend’s clothes slushy-free, oblivious to why their male glee friends hovered around her doing their best Secret Service agent impressions. Sam even brought a toy gun one day and soon the rest of the guys did too, until the resource officer had a chat with them.
But there’s always one hole in every great plan. The day before school was let out for winter break, Santana let Finn go to the bathroom while she was at her locker. The school knew the consequences of messing with her, and the least of it was the wrath of Puck, so it came as a surprise when she closed her locker and saw Azimio Adams with a Big Quench in his hand, his eyes locked on her. From the other direction, Brittany was walking down the hallway with Artie, right on schedule to get a front row seat to her humiliation.
Artie saw what was going down and began to race down the hall. He, Tina, and Mercedes had agreed to be her second line of defense, throwing themselves in front of bullets for her (figurative ones; literally the bullets were slushies). But he wasn’t going to reach her in time.
Then Kurt decided to play hero. Santana knew how much it meant for him to do this. He’d gotten a reprieve and, for awhile now, his meticulously-chosen clothes had remained safe. Unfortunately, he decided to take the bullet in another way, to Santana’s utter horror. Instead of throwing himself in front of Santana to take her slushy, he approached the football players.
“Hey, boys,” he purred directly to Azimio and Karofsky, channeling Carson Kressley, “did you buy me a drink? You should know I don’t put out on the first date, though.”
No, Santana thought as her heart dropped into her stomach.
Azimio looked furious, but it was Karofsky’s face that held a peculiar mix of emotions. Without a word, he grabbed the slushy from Azimio’s hand, shoved Kurt into the lockers hard enough to dent them, tore open Kurt’s slacks, and poured the mixture starting at his groin and moving up to his face. He tossed the cup to the side and with a malice that caused both Kurt and Santana to pale, declared, “You’re dead, Hummel.”
Santana raced to him, any retaliation from the bullies be damned. She was lucky; they moved along once Finn raced back and put himself between them. “Get out of here or I’ll have you arrested for a hate crime! That’s my brother, you jerks! I wouldn’t do that to your siblings!”
She started beating Kurt’s chest. “What was that, Kurt?! Are you stupid?! What the hell?! I can’t believe you! God, you’re an idiot! What were you thinking?! We had a deal! How could you break that?!”
She felt herself being dragged away. It turned out to be by Rachel. She looked up and realized the entire glee club had materialized out of nowhere. Brittany was picking up Kurt and pulling him towards the bathroom. He resisted, though, for long enough to thank Finn, really thank him from the bottom of his heart. Rachel’s grip loosened as she watched this exchange.
Santana backed herself into the lockers, placing herself against the dent Kurt’s body had made. “Why would he do that? I fixed things for him. I fixed them.” Quinn picked her up and held her. “I fixed them,” she repeated.
Time wouldn’t jump for her.
* * *
In the girls’ bathroom, Kurt changed into his extra set of clothes. He lamented that they were wrinkled, but found joy in that the reason they were so wrinkled was that he hadn’t had to use them in a while.
“Are you okay, Kurt?” Brittany asked.
“Yeah,” he replied. He wanted to tell her why he’d done what he did, but the topic was strictly verboten by decree of Santana and Artie. The magic behind her wishes being fulfilled had to be kept a secret.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have hit on Azimio and Karofsky. I don’t think they’re gay.”
“Doubtful,” he mentioned.
She conjectured further, “At least not for you. Maybe they’re gay for each other and didn’t like you hitting on their secret boyfriends?”
“That would be ironic, but not unheard of.”
“This is my fault,” Brittany guiltily admitted.
“What? I find that surprising.”
“It is. I asked Santa to make the bullies nice to Santana, but I totally didn’t ask for you. It’s all my fault.”
“Oh, Brittany, sweetie, don’t feel guilty. It’s just as much my fault. I never ask Santa for that, either. It’s stupid, I know, but fashion changes every year and I’m just a sucker for a new jacket.”
“Why was Santana so mad at you?”
Kurt sighed. “She made a deal with Karofsky to get him off my back. I think she may have even blackmailed him.” Brittany’s eyes widened at the revelation. “He promised not to bully me as long as I stayed out of his way. But I just broke our contract. Like, really broke it. Like shattered-it-like-a-crystal-figurine-against-a-marble-floor broke it. He’s probably going to start bullying me now.”
“That’s sad. What are you going to do?”
“My dad said he’d let me go to Dalton if things got too bad. I may have to take it up on the offer.”
“That could be fun. You’d really like a school full of gay boys. I wish I could go to a school that was only straight boys and lesbians. But I’d miss you, so you could visit.”
“You realize that this school does have mostly straight guys and at least one lesbian we both know.”
“I miss Santana. We’re friends again, and she lets me hug her, but we used to do some other fun things, too.” Perhaps she thought she was being subtle.
“I’m certain she misses you, too.”
“It’s like part of me is missing, right here.” She pressed her fingers against her sternum, in between her breasts. “Do you think maybe she took one of my kidney to give to a person with cancer? She does stuff like that now.”
“It’s sounds like she may have stolen part of your heart. I bet she’ll give you hers if you ask her nicely.”
* * *
Once Santana had time to think, she realized everything hadn’t gone wrong. In fact, a lot had gone right after the confrontation.
One, Brittany’s belief in Santa was intact, since technically there was no evidence of her being bullied.
Two, Finn had completely stepped up for his stepbrother, so things between him and Kurt were rapidly on the mend.
Three, Rachel had seen Finn’s courage and Kurt’s forgiveness, so the last issue in their relationship was out of the way. Except for Finn’s confession.
Four, when she arrived home that afternoon, her entire family was in the living room, including her older brother back for winter break, and there was no hiding her mood. Smothered by affection, she’d broken down about the events of the day, and in the course had ended up revealing her sexuality. To her surprise, her family was completely accepting of her. They had their suspicions for months and they’d come upon the PFLAG pamphlet sticking out of her backpack some weeks past, confirming it.
“I know this is a terrible thing to say, mija,” her mother told her, “but we’re actually happy that you stayed in the closet for so long.”
“It was me, honestly,” her father explained, “I… needed some time to confront some issues, to come to terms with what you were.” He cringed at his own words. “Te amamos, nena. No matter what.”
* * *
Santana had to borrow several thousand dollars worth of medical equipment, but she got Artie walking. It was a long process.
They’d started with leg braces and crutches. He stood for all of two seconds before his supported but still useless legs gave out on him and he fell face-forward on top of her. She wasn’t eager to repeat that process.
The next step was to attach his leg braces to a lower torso brace, since his hips were paralyzed, too. He kind of wobbled in place and kept himself upright only due to the crutches. He tried dragging himself across the floor, but it wasn’t impressive. “It’s not walking,” Santana explained.
They discovered that the leg braces could be loosened from the torso brace, allowing his leg to swing free. He’d have to manually move his thigh, and those they got a theoretically system in place. Unfortunately, he’d intermittently need both of his arms for the crutches and to shift his legs, and it proved to be too cumbersome. They’d switched to forearm crutches from underarm crutches, but this was only marginally better.
They took a big leap by trying electrical stimulators, which were meant to cause muscles spasms. With Dr. Lopez’s help, they finally got the connectors in the right places after five long hours, only to find out they caused nothing more than a twitch in his hip muscles; nine years had atrophied the muscles past the point of moving their own weight, much less combined with the braces.
Returning the electrode machine was Santana’s saving grace. She and Artie had strolled in just in time to see a sixty-year-old stroke recovery patient on the parallel bars. One of her arms was obviously stronger and she was favoring it. Artie saw what she was thinking: “I can support myself with one arm.”
So, with a set of bars set up in the choir room, Artie practiced for two hours straight with Santana coaching him the entire time. It was a grueling process: shift his weight to his right arm, loosen the screw on the left leg brace, move his left leg with his left arm, tighten the screw, shift his weight to the left arm, loosen the screw on the right leg brace, move his right leg with his right arm, tighten the screw, and repeat, repeat, repeat.
“I think we got it.”
“Yeah,” Santana remarked, trying not to be excited. She didn’t need to befriend Artie; she couldn’t. “Do you have any looser pairs of pants? It’ll be a little more magical if we hide the braces under your clothes. These nerdy sweater vests you prefer are actually perfect for the torso brace.”
“Nothing loose enough for these.”
“For the money my dad and I spent renting all this equipment, I think you can afford to buy a pair of pants. It would fit that gangster speak you like.”
“Pot. Kettle.”
Santana had to smile at that. “Tomorrow’s the last day they keep the school open for teachers; this has got to happen then.”
Was it hard for Santana to watch Brittany’s eyes light up and race to hug her boyfriend when it took four minutes for him to walk ten feet? Yes.
Was it worth it when she came up to hug her, too? Damn straight.
“Santana, I think you meddled again,” she remarked in the middle of the hug, right into her ear. “I could feel the robot legs under his pants.”
Santana was speechless. Artie was her saving grace, “Santa asked her to do it. He thought your wishes were so sweet that he asked her to make me walk so he could spent time making cool presents for you.”
“It’s true,” Santana added, “he told me you were at the very top of the Nice List: Brittany S. Pierce and then everybody else.”
“That can’t be true,” Brittany remarked. Artie and Santana exchanged terrified expression. “There’s no way you’re not at the tippy-top, Santana.” She hugged Santana again. She moved back to Artie. “You’re at the top, too,” she told him, laying a loud, smacking kiss on his cheek, “because you are the nicest boyfriend in the entire world.”
Santana was beaming, beaming at the fact she was an honest-to-goodness do-gooder. Brittany has ruined me. And I’m totally cool with it.
“Walk for me again, Artie?” she asked and Santana helped him to the back of the platform again and cheered him along, if only to watch Brittany’s eyes fill with the exact same amount of merriment as before.
The rest of the glee club, apparently texted by Brittany, finally made their was over to watch. Brittany’s joy was infectious. Tina was the exception; she watched him walk with a mix of pride and melancholy.
Puck joked, “Finn, Sam, you two bozos better watch out. It looks like you’ve got competition for quarterback next year.”
Santana noticed a figure hovering just outside the door. She walked out to greet Coach Beiste. “I don’t know how to thank you for your help. You didn’t have to lend us the equipment truck. You didn’t have to drive it for us. Or help us mechanically challenged set it up. And you certainly didn’t have to lie for us.”
“I said it was for one of my football players whose legs were injured in an accident. That ain’t no more lying than putting a slotted ladle in a moonshine jar.”
“You did everything short of dress up as the jolly man himself. You deserve some credit.”
“A little girl happy on Christmas Eve? That’s all the credit I need.”
* * *
So wrapped up in her own issues, and no longer on the Cheerios, Santana was disconnected from Sue’s machinations. So, when her former cheerleading coach invited the entire club to celebrate Christmas with Will, Santana was only too happy to have some festive distraction.
She briefly considered using the mistletoe on Brittany, before nixing the plan for being too cliché for words. Not to mention it was completely transparent: seven men who knew she didn’t want to be kissed by them and six women wouldn’t want to kiss her, leaving the one girl already aware of her intentions and a boyfriend who was, too. Also, it wasn’t in the cards anyway, because Rachel monopolized the sprig for the first half of the night with Finn, only to have it stolen by Quinn and Sam when Finn, who’d been downing soft drinks all night, finally surrendered to the call of his bladder. Mike and Tina needed no mistletoe.
Brittany approached her during the party and it took all she had to keep her heart in her chest. “You’re the brave one.”
“Yeah. What are we talking about? Coming out?”
“No, I just know that you’re the brave one.” She snuck a peek at Kurt, which Santana caught and tried to decipher, but was unable to. “I just wanted you to know I think you’re awesome. For being brave.”
I’m not sure why she’s so proud of me, but I’m certainly not going to complain.
Halfway through the party, Mr. Schue received a surprise guest. It appeared that Ms. Holiday had the same fear that Sue and the club had had about him being alone over Christmas break. Santana, given her part in bringing the two together, decided she deserved to hide in the dining room and listen to the conversation.
“Holly! What are you doing here?”
“I thought I could save you some loneliness, but it looks like I was beaten to the punch.”
“Hey, it’s the thought that counts. Please come in and enjoy the party. How’s the program?”
She slipped off her overcoat, revealing a black dress decorated with a snowflake motif. “Hard. But, you know, I’m learning about teaching styles and… it’s actually really, really boring. Can we talk about anything else? Crawford and Dalton had a joint office party but I had to leave. I could only bear hearing so many variations of the same drunken pickup line.”
“Let me guess, it had something to do with your name.”
“Every last one of them. Not one more original than the jokes I’ve gotten since I was seven.”
When Mr. Schue tried to pull her towards the party, she held them back and whispered, “So, I know we’ve not gotten a chance to really spend much time together, but could I possibly stay for the afterparty?”
“Afterparty?” The glint in her eye was obvious. He told her, “Behave yourself in front of the kids and I’m sure we can work something out.”
“God, are you ever not a teacher?”
“We’ll see what happens after midnight.”
“Ooh, is that when Santa Claus comes?”
“It’s the seventeenth. It’s when Schuester Claus comes.”
Santana muffled her snickers. In his attempt to dance on the line, he’d jumped a mile over it by accident.
Holly apparently cared as much about the line as Santana did, so her response was, “I can’t wait. I know it’s traditional to kiss under the mistletoe, but maybe later you can kiss under Holly?”
Santana could imagine Schue’s bug eyes. “Holly, tone it down. My students are here. I don’t want to get on any lists.”
“Oh, big deal. You just change your name. You honestly think I was born ‘Holly Holiday’?” After a pregnant pause, she joked, “Kidding. My parents were hippies.”
Santana, mentally filing away Project Tug-of-War Phase II a rousing success, walked back into the party, just in time to see that the mistletoe had been surrendered to Artie and Brittany, killing her buzz immediately.
Speaking of buzz…
She didn’t know if it was the rum she let Puck sneak into her eggnog, but she definitely didn’t remember the rest of the party.
* * *
Santana had heard those statistics that the suicide rate spiked around Christmas, and she morbidly entertained the thought that she could understand her considering adding herself to the rate. But not actual suicide.
Lying on her bed, she had Brittany’s number pulled up on her cell phone and her thumb was hovering over the “Call” button. It would be so easy just to tell Brittany her feelings. She’d get shot down again and this time, the shock would likely resulting in her returning to the present. Would that erase the past couple of months? She figured so; if she didn’t complete her assigned task, there were no reasons for the changes to stick. Then again, maybe, just maybe, she’d get to keep the moments she’d altered, and breaking out would be just a three-month time jump.
Either way, it had advantages. She’d happily skip three months of bullying; perhaps by then she wouldn’t be the main target anymore. She wasn’t looking forward to three more months of heartbreak, watching Brittany and Artie grow closer. She’d gone back to prevent having her heart broken, and instead it was being broken over and over. It wasn’t doing good things to her health. She figured she’d gain a few pounds now that she was off the Cheerios and was able to more regularly satisfy her hunger without guilt, but she’d actually lost weight already due to poor appetite.
Regardless, when she went back, Brittany and Artie would be together. Maybe she’d be out of the closet still; maybe she’d have to come out all over again. Either way, it wasn’t like she was giving up forever. She could harden her heart again, wait a few more months-maybe a year or so-for them to break up. It’s not like they’re gonna get married, is it? Then again, Artie might think he won’t get many more chances. He’s lost Tina and it would be difficult to bag a girl like Brittany again. I can’t let that happen. At the very least, I’ll pull one of those wedding movie clichés and I’ll object to the marriage when the minister asks everyone to speak now or forever hold their peace.
But should I take that Brittany back? She chose Artie over me, didn’t she? The Brittany from this timeline said staying with Wheels was about loyalty, not love. In her emotionally vulnerable state, she knew she would take back either Brittany in a heartbeat. But what if it’s the other one, the one I traveled back for? She won’t have the fond memory of me choosing to do a duet with her, not until “Landslide”, when I was too late. She thinks I’m a coward who’s still mostly in the closet. Even if I make her mine, will this one yearn for Artie?
“I’m so yours. Proudly so.”
No, that Brittany doesn’t just love me. She’s in love with me. She wants to be with me. The two Brittanys aren’t different people; they’re still the same loving, silly girl who is terrified of hurting anybody. She never said she loved him more. When I go back, I’ve got a shot, probably even a better one.
So, let’s go back.
Chapter 13: The Things Santana Does Best
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. It’s time for some Christmas miracles.
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 Chapter 11
Santana ran into Finn in the halls the next day, so she grabbed him and thanked him for his speech to her to Azimio.
“You saved my ass. I completely froze. And not because of the slushy.”
“Hey, it’s no problem.”
“Finn, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.” She didn’t go with her prepared speech. “I don’t know if you and Rachel have... you know. But if you haven’t, you really need to tell her about us before you do. And, just saying, soon would be good. You’ve probably gotten major brownie points for that gay rights speech, which totally makes up for the bailing on Kurt thing. And, also, since I’m gay, I think she’ll be a little less threatened. A little, though. Girls are irrational.”
“Yeah, I kind of gathered. Thanks. I’ll try.”
After Finn left, she enjoyed ten seconds of peace before Artie rolled up to her. “Can I ask you a question about Brittany?”
No way this is going to be a fun conversation.
“Does Brittany believe in Santa Claus?”
Oh, we’re there now.
* * *
When Brittany approached her later that morning, she jumped onto the defensive. But before she could get an apology out, Brittany beat her to it. “I’m sorry, Santana. I was really mean yesterday. I don’t hate you, not even a little bitty bit.”
“No, you were right about one thing. I should have told you sooner. I wanted to and I totally was going to, but... I don’t know, the last couple of weeks I’ve been totally out of it.”
“I noticed.”
“I’m just going through a lot. And I know this doesn’t make up for anything, but...” She visibly steeled herself. “Brittany, I’m gay.”
“Santana, you’re wrong.”
“Um, okay. I suppose it’s a little more complicated. Kurt’s been dropping the term ‘homoaffectionate’ and trying to plot me on a bunch of grids like it’s math class, but it’s getting into that really nitty-gritty gay terminology that-”
Brittany interrupted her, “Stop. I mean you were wrong about it not making up for anything. It totally makes up for everything.” She then remarked officiously and monotonously, “One, I recognize that you trust me. Two, I acknowledge that coming out took a lot of courage. Three, I carry on an honest conversation with you. Four, I express that I am feeling: happy. Five, I accept this and know that you are the same person you always were and I love you.”
A grin appeared on Santana’s face. She pulled a pamphlet out of her backpack and displayed it to Brittany. “Miss P give you one of these?” Brittany nodded guiltily. Santana soothed her, “Hey, it’s awesome that you were willing to do that. Though, it does mean that she must been a hundred percent sure about me being a lesbian. Whatever.”
Brittany reached out to hug Santana before retracting her arms. Santana instead stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Brittany, who hugged her back fiercely, sighing with relief. “Oh, thank you, I’ve been dying to do that for so long.”
“Thanks for being so patient with me. You know, for future reference, I’m kind of over the touching stuff, so we can go back to the way we were. Everything beneath cuddle time, though.”
“Okay!” Brittany agreed, nodding furiously, her leg bouncing with joy like a rabbit’s.
Santana bit her lip. “Hey, you didn’t tell Artie about our conversation in the bathroom, did you?”
“No. He noticed I was mad, though, but I just told him it was because Hannah Montana got cancelled.”
“Thanks.”
“Oh! He’s taking me to see Santa at the mall, and Quinn and Sam and MikeandTina...” she said their names all as one word, “...and Mercedes are all coming with. You should, too. You always visit Santa with me!”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
* * *
It was like watching a video from last time. Seriously, some things just never change at all. Except we’re short a hippo.
Mercedes took her gift request straight from a Christmas song, “I want a pony, and a doll that laughs and cries, and… one of us smells like McDonalds.” It’s you, Santana thought, you and your tots.
“Chap stick. Lots of chap stick.” She wanted to smack the blond boy for obviously having too much fun with this, even though she knew Brittany wouldn’t notice.
“Do you have anything for stretch marks?” Yeah, Sweetie, a condom, a year and a half ago.
“I want Channing Tatum to stop being in stuff.” Except G.I. Joe sequels. Anything to get Rachel Nichols and Sienna Miller back in skintight costumes on a fifty-foot screen.
“When does Asian Santa arrive?”
Santana wanted a lot of things more than jewelry, but there was nothing she could really ask for with Brittany within earshot. So she told the mall Santa, “Bling. I can’t be any more specific than that. Also, maybe you can redirect a couple of your elves away from Legos or whatever it is kids these days want and get them working on a detergent that can get Red Dye #40 out of cashmere?” She didn’t comment on the roll of Certs in his pocket, because she realized this time around it was actually a cluster of candy canes. She gave hers to Mike so he could make a walrus face to Tina.
Brittany hopped up next and Santana waited for her to drop the bombshell. “I know you’re really busy, so this is what I want for Christmas.” She pointed at Artie. “Do you see my boyfriend over there?” Artie waved; Santana rolled her eyes. “For Christmas, I want him to be able to walk. You can do that, can’t you, Santa?”
Everyone’s jaw dropped and Santana mimed it, too. Artie mimed no to Santa, but the guy just said, “Sure. I’m on it.”
Artie whined, “Now we’re screwed.”
She had been expecting this but unsure how to proceed. She had been working on several schemes to fulfill the wish herself, help it along in the background, or prevent it entirely. She hadn’t decided which idea was best yet.
Brittany threw a curveball, though. She was now pointing at her. “And the really pretty girl? She’s my best friend Santana and she’s a...” She stage-whispered the word, “lesbian. I’m not supposed to tell anybody that but you’re Santa so you probably knew that already. Anyway, people at school are being mean to her, so could you make them stop?”
Artie turned to her and deadpanned, “Wow, and I thought her wish for me was hard.”
You’re right, Wheels. We’re screwed.
* * *
The last thing Santana expected to do was to work with Artie again, especially more closely than the last time. He declared, “I don’t know what to do, but we got to fix this. I don’t want to see her crushed.”
“You think I do? Artie, I don’t know how much Brittany’s told you about my new hobby, but I like to fix things now. I’ve been thinking about how to make her wish come true. My dad’s a doctor...”
Artie balked and interrupted her, “If there were an easy medical solution to this, I’d have done it years ago. All the paraplegics would have. Literally, there would be no more paraplegics.”
Santana snapped, “Will you shut up and listen to me for five seconds?! My dad’s best friend from medical school is one of the top prosthetic surgeons in the country. I have access to all kind of physical rehab equipment. We’ll get you crutches, or leg braces, or something. All Brittany cares about it seeing you stand upright and putting one foot in front of the other. She’s a literal person; it’s all the letter of the law for her.” Artie seemed convinced. “Now that I’ve solved your problem, maybe we can work on mine. I’m gonna make you walk. It shouldn’t be too hard for you to de-homophobize the school.”
“Don’t underestimate me, Lopez; I can get creative, too. I live in a world designed for people with two working legs.”
Santana frowned. “Don’t play the cripple card on me. We’re working together on this. I don’t understand your attitude. This is my personality. What’s your excuse?”
“‘Sex isn’t dating.’ I haven’t forgotten that little bombshell she dropped last year.” Santana didn’t like where this was going, but let the boy talk. “Girls experiment; I get it. You and Brittany were always attached at the hip and were really cuddly, but nothing that couldn’t be passed off as normal affection for best friends. Then you did that sexy duet with her. And then Puck tells me you’re totally blowing him off. And, finally, you came out. Now you’re dedicating considerable time to maintaining her belief in Santa. You like her.”
Santana decided there was no reason to hide her feelings. “I’m a lesbian and she’s a hot girl. More than that, she’s my best friend who’s bisexual. It’s not a hopeless crush. You shouldn’t be surprised I’m into her.”
“She’s dating me.”
“I’m aware. And let me tell you something; that girl used to follow me like a puppy dog. I could have abused her loyalty, but I didn’t. A month ago, I could have had her dump your numb ass and never look back. But you make her happy for some reason. Maybe I’d prefer to have her on my arm, but right now… right now we’ve got bigger fish to fry. I’m gonna make you walk if I have to drag you out of that chair and string you up like a puppet. I’m not going to be the one to ruin her belief.”
“Neither will I. And I don’t want this to become a competition. This isn’t the first love triangle I’ve been a part of, and having been on the losing side, I can sympathize with you. But I got over Tina and maybe you should get over Brittany.”
Santana didn’t answer, didn’t make a sound, didn’t even flinch.
* * *
Saving the choir room’s decorations from Sue was the easiest scheme yet, a mere afterthought.
The day before she suspected Coach Sylvester would be “stopping by”, she pickpocketed Mr. Schue’s keys-of course Santana Lopez knew how to pickpocket-and made doubly-sure the room was locked after practice. Since Coach was still the principal and as such would have access to all the rooms, she made sure to fill the keyholes with potter’s clay.
: : :
Artie’s solution for “de-homophobizing” the school wasn’t elegant, but it was effective. Someone-Puck was the primary suspect-sabotaged the slushy machine at the Circle K across the street from McKinley. In addition, Santana now had an entourage around her consisting of Puck, Finn, Sam, or Mike. Quinn had stuck her neck out for her with the Cheerios. (She had dirt on every last one of her squad mates) So, Santana was left out of the rumor mill, as if anything could top her current status, much less the female teacher-female student scandal of the previous semester. The one person who wasn’t let in on the mission was Brittany, who smiled every time she walked by, seeing her best friend’s clothes slushy-free, oblivious to why their male glee friends hovered around her doing their best Secret Service agent impressions. Sam even brought a toy gun one day and soon the rest of the guys did too, until the resource officer had a chat with them.
But there’s always one hole in every great plan. The day before school was let out for winter break, Santana let Finn go to the bathroom while she was at her locker. The school knew the consequences of messing with her, and the least of it was the wrath of Puck, so it came as a surprise when she closed her locker and saw Azimio Adams with a Big Quench in his hand, his eyes locked on her. From the other direction, Brittany was walking down the hallway with Artie, right on schedule to get a front row seat to her humiliation.
Artie saw what was going down and began to race down the hall. He, Tina, and Mercedes had agreed to be her second line of defense, throwing themselves in front of bullets for her (figurative ones; literally the bullets were slushies). But he wasn’t going to reach her in time.
Then Kurt decided to play hero. Santana knew how much it meant for him to do this. He’d gotten a reprieve and, for awhile now, his meticulously-chosen clothes had remained safe. Unfortunately, he decided to take the bullet in another way, to Santana’s utter horror. Instead of throwing himself in front of Santana to take her slushy, he approached the football players.
“Hey, boys,” he purred directly to Azimio and Karofsky, channeling Carson Kressley, “did you buy me a drink? You should know I don’t put out on the first date, though.”
No, Santana thought as her heart dropped into her stomach.
Azimio looked furious, but it was Karofsky’s face that held a peculiar mix of emotions. Without a word, he grabbed the slushy from Azimio’s hand, shoved Kurt into the lockers hard enough to dent them, tore open Kurt’s slacks, and poured the mixture starting at his groin and moving up to his face. He tossed the cup to the side and with a malice that caused both Kurt and Santana to pale, declared, “You’re dead, Hummel.”
Santana raced to him, any retaliation from the bullies be damned. She was lucky; they moved along once Finn raced back and put himself between them. “Get out of here or I’ll have you arrested for a hate crime! That’s my brother, you jerks! I wouldn’t do that to your siblings!”
She started beating Kurt’s chest. “What was that, Kurt?! Are you stupid?! What the hell?! I can’t believe you! God, you’re an idiot! What were you thinking?! We had a deal! How could you break that?!”
She felt herself being dragged away. It turned out to be by Rachel. She looked up and realized the entire glee club had materialized out of nowhere. Brittany was picking up Kurt and pulling him towards the bathroom. He resisted, though, for long enough to thank Finn, really thank him from the bottom of his heart. Rachel’s grip loosened as she watched this exchange.
Santana backed herself into the lockers, placing herself against the dent Kurt’s body had made. “Why would he do that? I fixed things for him. I fixed them.” Quinn picked her up and held her. “I fixed them,” she repeated.
Time wouldn’t jump for her.
* * *
In the girls’ bathroom, Kurt changed into his extra set of clothes. He lamented that they were wrinkled, but found joy in that the reason they were so wrinkled was that he hadn’t had to use them in a while.
“Are you okay, Kurt?” Brittany asked.
“Yeah,” he replied. He wanted to tell her why he’d done what he did, but the topic was strictly verboten by decree of Santana and Artie. The magic behind her wishes being fulfilled had to be kept a secret.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have hit on Azimio and Karofsky. I don’t think they’re gay.”
“Doubtful,” he mentioned.
She conjectured further, “At least not for you. Maybe they’re gay for each other and didn’t like you hitting on their secret boyfriends?”
“That would be ironic, but not unheard of.”
“This is my fault,” Brittany guiltily admitted.
“What? I find that surprising.”
“It is. I asked Santa to make the bullies nice to Santana, but I totally didn’t ask for you. It’s all my fault.”
“Oh, Brittany, sweetie, don’t feel guilty. It’s just as much my fault. I never ask Santa for that, either. It’s stupid, I know, but fashion changes every year and I’m just a sucker for a new jacket.”
“Why was Santana so mad at you?”
Kurt sighed. “She made a deal with Karofsky to get him off my back. I think she may have even blackmailed him.” Brittany’s eyes widened at the revelation. “He promised not to bully me as long as I stayed out of his way. But I just broke our contract. Like, really broke it. Like shattered-it-like-a-crystal-figurine-against-a-marble-floor broke it. He’s probably going to start bullying me now.”
“That’s sad. What are you going to do?”
“My dad said he’d let me go to Dalton if things got too bad. I may have to take it up on the offer.”
“That could be fun. You’d really like a school full of gay boys. I wish I could go to a school that was only straight boys and lesbians. But I’d miss you, so you could visit.”
“You realize that this school does have mostly straight guys and at least one lesbian we both know.”
“I miss Santana. We’re friends again, and she lets me hug her, but we used to do some other fun things, too.” Perhaps she thought she was being subtle.
“I’m certain she misses you, too.”
“It’s like part of me is missing, right here.” She pressed her fingers against her sternum, in between her breasts. “Do you think maybe she took one of my kidney to give to a person with cancer? She does stuff like that now.”
“It’s sounds like she may have stolen part of your heart. I bet she’ll give you hers if you ask her nicely.”
* * *
Once Santana had time to think, she realized everything hadn’t gone wrong. In fact, a lot had gone right after the confrontation.
One, Brittany’s belief in Santa was intact, since technically there was no evidence of her being bullied.
Two, Finn had completely stepped up for his stepbrother, so things between him and Kurt were rapidly on the mend.
Three, Rachel had seen Finn’s courage and Kurt’s forgiveness, so the last issue in their relationship was out of the way. Except for Finn’s confession.
Four, when she arrived home that afternoon, her entire family was in the living room, including her older brother back for winter break, and there was no hiding her mood. Smothered by affection, she’d broken down about the events of the day, and in the course had ended up revealing her sexuality. To her surprise, her family was completely accepting of her. They had their suspicions for months and they’d come upon the PFLAG pamphlet sticking out of her backpack some weeks past, confirming it.
“I know this is a terrible thing to say, mija,” her mother told her, “but we’re actually happy that you stayed in the closet for so long.”
“It was me, honestly,” her father explained, “I… needed some time to confront some issues, to come to terms with what you were.” He cringed at his own words. “Te amamos, nena. No matter what.”
* * *
Santana had to borrow several thousand dollars worth of medical equipment, but she got Artie walking. It was a long process.
They’d started with leg braces and crutches. He stood for all of two seconds before his supported but still useless legs gave out on him and he fell face-forward on top of her. She wasn’t eager to repeat that process.
The next step was to attach his leg braces to a lower torso brace, since his hips were paralyzed, too. He kind of wobbled in place and kept himself upright only due to the crutches. He tried dragging himself across the floor, but it wasn’t impressive. “It’s not walking,” Santana explained.
They discovered that the leg braces could be loosened from the torso brace, allowing his leg to swing free. He’d have to manually move his thigh, and those they got a theoretically system in place. Unfortunately, he’d intermittently need both of his arms for the crutches and to shift his legs, and it proved to be too cumbersome. They’d switched to forearm crutches from underarm crutches, but this was only marginally better.
They took a big leap by trying electrical stimulators, which were meant to cause muscles spasms. With Dr. Lopez’s help, they finally got the connectors in the right places after five long hours, only to find out they caused nothing more than a twitch in his hip muscles; nine years had atrophied the muscles past the point of moving their own weight, much less combined with the braces.
Returning the electrode machine was Santana’s saving grace. She and Artie had strolled in just in time to see a sixty-year-old stroke recovery patient on the parallel bars. One of her arms was obviously stronger and she was favoring it. Artie saw what she was thinking: “I can support myself with one arm.”
So, with a set of bars set up in the choir room, Artie practiced for two hours straight with Santana coaching him the entire time. It was a grueling process: shift his weight to his right arm, loosen the screw on the left leg brace, move his left leg with his left arm, tighten the screw, shift his weight to the left arm, loosen the screw on the right leg brace, move his right leg with his right arm, tighten the screw, and repeat, repeat, repeat.
“I think we got it.”
“Yeah,” Santana remarked, trying not to be excited. She didn’t need to befriend Artie; she couldn’t. “Do you have any looser pairs of pants? It’ll be a little more magical if we hide the braces under your clothes. These nerdy sweater vests you prefer are actually perfect for the torso brace.”
“Nothing loose enough for these.”
“For the money my dad and I spent renting all this equipment, I think you can afford to buy a pair of pants. It would fit that gangster speak you like.”
“Pot. Kettle.”
Santana had to smile at that. “Tomorrow’s the last day they keep the school open for teachers; this has got to happen then.”
Was it hard for Santana to watch Brittany’s eyes light up and race to hug her boyfriend when it took four minutes for him to walk ten feet? Yes.
Was it worth it when she came up to hug her, too? Damn straight.
“Santana, I think you meddled again,” she remarked in the middle of the hug, right into her ear. “I could feel the robot legs under his pants.”
Santana was speechless. Artie was her saving grace, “Santa asked her to do it. He thought your wishes were so sweet that he asked her to make me walk so he could spent time making cool presents for you.”
“It’s true,” Santana added, “he told me you were at the very top of the Nice List: Brittany S. Pierce and then everybody else.”
“That can’t be true,” Brittany remarked. Artie and Santana exchanged terrified expression. “There’s no way you’re not at the tippy-top, Santana.” She hugged Santana again. She moved back to Artie. “You’re at the top, too,” she told him, laying a loud, smacking kiss on his cheek, “because you are the nicest boyfriend in the entire world.”
Santana was beaming, beaming at the fact she was an honest-to-goodness do-gooder. Brittany has ruined me. And I’m totally cool with it.
“Walk for me again, Artie?” she asked and Santana helped him to the back of the platform again and cheered him along, if only to watch Brittany’s eyes fill with the exact same amount of merriment as before.
The rest of the glee club, apparently texted by Brittany, finally made their was over to watch. Brittany’s joy was infectious. Tina was the exception; she watched him walk with a mix of pride and melancholy.
Puck joked, “Finn, Sam, you two bozos better watch out. It looks like you’ve got competition for quarterback next year.”
Santana noticed a figure hovering just outside the door. She walked out to greet Coach Beiste. “I don’t know how to thank you for your help. You didn’t have to lend us the equipment truck. You didn’t have to drive it for us. Or help us mechanically challenged set it up. And you certainly didn’t have to lie for us.”
“I said it was for one of my football players whose legs were injured in an accident. That ain’t no more lying than putting a slotted ladle in a moonshine jar.”
“You did everything short of dress up as the jolly man himself. You deserve some credit.”
“A little girl happy on Christmas Eve? That’s all the credit I need.”
* * *
So wrapped up in her own issues, and no longer on the Cheerios, Santana was disconnected from Sue’s machinations. So, when her former cheerleading coach invited the entire club to celebrate Christmas with Will, Santana was only too happy to have some festive distraction.
She briefly considered using the mistletoe on Brittany, before nixing the plan for being too cliché for words. Not to mention it was completely transparent: seven men who knew she didn’t want to be kissed by them and six women wouldn’t want to kiss her, leaving the one girl already aware of her intentions and a boyfriend who was, too. Also, it wasn’t in the cards anyway, because Rachel monopolized the sprig for the first half of the night with Finn, only to have it stolen by Quinn and Sam when Finn, who’d been downing soft drinks all night, finally surrendered to the call of his bladder. Mike and Tina needed no mistletoe.
Brittany approached her during the party and it took all she had to keep her heart in her chest. “You’re the brave one.”
“Yeah. What are we talking about? Coming out?”
“No, I just know that you’re the brave one.” She snuck a peek at Kurt, which Santana caught and tried to decipher, but was unable to. “I just wanted you to know I think you’re awesome. For being brave.”
I’m not sure why she’s so proud of me, but I’m certainly not going to complain.
Halfway through the party, Mr. Schue received a surprise guest. It appeared that Ms. Holiday had the same fear that Sue and the club had had about him being alone over Christmas break. Santana, given her part in bringing the two together, decided she deserved to hide in the dining room and listen to the conversation.
“Holly! What are you doing here?”
“I thought I could save you some loneliness, but it looks like I was beaten to the punch.”
“Hey, it’s the thought that counts. Please come in and enjoy the party. How’s the program?”
She slipped off her overcoat, revealing a black dress decorated with a snowflake motif. “Hard. But, you know, I’m learning about teaching styles and… it’s actually really, really boring. Can we talk about anything else? Crawford and Dalton had a joint office party but I had to leave. I could only bear hearing so many variations of the same drunken pickup line.”
“Let me guess, it had something to do with your name.”
“Every last one of them. Not one more original than the jokes I’ve gotten since I was seven.”
When Mr. Schue tried to pull her towards the party, she held them back and whispered, “So, I know we’ve not gotten a chance to really spend much time together, but could I possibly stay for the afterparty?”
“Afterparty?” The glint in her eye was obvious. He told her, “Behave yourself in front of the kids and I’m sure we can work something out.”
“God, are you ever not a teacher?”
“We’ll see what happens after midnight.”
“Ooh, is that when Santa Claus comes?”
“It’s the seventeenth. It’s when Schuester Claus comes.”
Santana muffled her snickers. In his attempt to dance on the line, he’d jumped a mile over it by accident.
Holly apparently cared as much about the line as Santana did, so her response was, “I can’t wait. I know it’s traditional to kiss under the mistletoe, but maybe later you can kiss under Holly?”
Santana could imagine Schue’s bug eyes. “Holly, tone it down. My students are here. I don’t want to get on any lists.”
“Oh, big deal. You just change your name. You honestly think I was born ‘Holly Holiday’?” After a pregnant pause, she joked, “Kidding. My parents were hippies.”
Santana, mentally filing away Project Tug-of-War Phase II a rousing success, walked back into the party, just in time to see that the mistletoe had been surrendered to Artie and Brittany, killing her buzz immediately.
Speaking of buzz…
She didn’t know if it was the rum she let Puck sneak into her eggnog, but she definitely didn’t remember the rest of the party.
* * *
Santana had heard those statistics that the suicide rate spiked around Christmas, and she morbidly entertained the thought that she could understand her considering adding herself to the rate. But not actual suicide.
Lying on her bed, she had Brittany’s number pulled up on her cell phone and her thumb was hovering over the “Call” button. It would be so easy just to tell Brittany her feelings. She’d get shot down again and this time, the shock would likely resulting in her returning to the present. Would that erase the past couple of months? She figured so; if she didn’t complete her assigned task, there were no reasons for the changes to stick. Then again, maybe, just maybe, she’d get to keep the moments she’d altered, and breaking out would be just a three-month time jump.
Either way, it had advantages. She’d happily skip three months of bullying; perhaps by then she wouldn’t be the main target anymore. She wasn’t looking forward to three more months of heartbreak, watching Brittany and Artie grow closer. She’d gone back to prevent having her heart broken, and instead it was being broken over and over. It wasn’t doing good things to her health. She figured she’d gain a few pounds now that she was off the Cheerios and was able to more regularly satisfy her hunger without guilt, but she’d actually lost weight already due to poor appetite.
Regardless, when she went back, Brittany and Artie would be together. Maybe she’d be out of the closet still; maybe she’d have to come out all over again. Either way, it wasn’t like she was giving up forever. She could harden her heart again, wait a few more months-maybe a year or so-for them to break up. It’s not like they’re gonna get married, is it? Then again, Artie might think he won’t get many more chances. He’s lost Tina and it would be difficult to bag a girl like Brittany again. I can’t let that happen. At the very least, I’ll pull one of those wedding movie clichés and I’ll object to the marriage when the minister asks everyone to speak now or forever hold their peace.
But should I take that Brittany back? She chose Artie over me, didn’t she? The Brittany from this timeline said staying with Wheels was about loyalty, not love. In her emotionally vulnerable state, she knew she would take back either Brittany in a heartbeat. But what if it’s the other one, the one I traveled back for? She won’t have the fond memory of me choosing to do a duet with her, not until “Landslide”, when I was too late. She thinks I’m a coward who’s still mostly in the closet. Even if I make her mine, will this one yearn for Artie?
“I’m so yours. Proudly so.”
No, that Brittany doesn’t just love me. She’s in love with me. She wants to be with me. The two Brittanys aren’t different people; they’re still the same loving, silly girl who is terrified of hurting anybody. She never said she loved him more. When I go back, I’ve got a shot, probably even a better one.
So, let’s go back.
Chapter 13: The Things Santana Does Best