(no subject)
Title: Storm
Pairing: Brittany/Santana
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2, 670
Summary: Santana is tired of being everyone's second, Brittany included.
Spoilers: Sexy, Original Song
Disclaimer: don't own Glee.
---
"You want everything, Britt. EVERYTHING! But you can't have it. You can't just stand there and have it all. It's just NOT HOW IT WORKS!"
Brittany cringes under Santana's harsh tone, shrinking back against the locker, her eyes pleading with Santana.
"It's me or him Britt. Me or him."
"Santana please. Please I don't want to hurt anyone. Please, please understand. I love you! But I don't want to hurt anyone!"
Santana just shrugs, stepping slowly backwards. Brittany reaches out for her arm, and Santana pulls back quickly, Brittany's hand falling back to her side just like the first time Santana had asked for her. But this time is different. Brittany knows what life without Santana is like now. She knows how very much she misses the constant company of her best friend. She knows now that without Santana, she feels lost.
Santana waits another moment, then turns and once again leaves Brittany standing alone.
The day drags by after that, without even the distraction of the Cheerios to get Santana thinking of things other than how Brittany wasn't choosing her. How Brittany seemed so very intent on spending her high school life with Wheels.
She skips Glee club that afternoon, opting to spend as little time with other people as she possibly could. Instead she decides to make her way down to the park, leaving the school behind her as her legs carry her quickly along the sidewalk.
The sky is getting cloudy by the time she finally reaches the gravel expanse of the playground. A few kids run around, mainly keeping to the slides and the climbing areas. One of the mothers glances up at her as she walks past, and Santana gives her a curt nod before making her way over to the swings. She watches as two of the children get into some sort of argument, then feels a slight wave of remorse when the little boy pushes the other child into the wooden panels of the steps.
Santana debates breaking up the fight that has now broken out, but before she can rise up off the swing, the mother comes over. She scolds each of he kids in turn, then brings them close to her, inspection their wounds and planting a light kiss to a large scrape on the boy's elbow. Santana smiles slightly as the mother leads the two children off, her feet digging up small ruts in he gravel all the while.
The winds starts to pick up then, and ye cool breeze turns into viscous air currents, hell bent on pulling her hair out of it's carefully constructed ponytail and across her face. She squints, lifting up her hand and pulling her hair back again to rest behind her neck. It's then that she notices the last of the kids have gone, and she is alone.
How fitting, she muses, closing her eyes and leaning against the thick chain of that held her up. I'm all alone, again. She can't help it now, and her eyes well up with the tears she'd been holding in since her short talk with Brittany that morning.
Santana Lopez was used to being everyone else's second choice. She was used to never being called first on teams, used to working ten times harder than anyone else just to stay set in her cozy little second-best spot. She was Puck's second choice. She was Sam's second choice. Quinn hadn't ever even asked for her help, in all those moths. Sure, Santana probably wouldn't have given her anything, but it would have been nice to be a first choice. Just once.
It had always been different with Brittany though. Brittany had always been right beside Santana, happy and bright and just there. They'd know each other for what felt like ever, and Santana had never really though anything about how much she needed Brittany until Brittany was gone. Then Santana had been alone for the first time in what felt like forever.
A quivering sigh escapes Santana's lips, and she realizes that she's shaking; whether it is from the cold or from the silent sobs wracking her body, Santana is unsure. She sits up slowly, dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve before sliding off the swing and looking around herself once again.
The sun has disappeared behind a mass of grey clouds and the wind has picked up, showing Santana how accurate the storm forecast was going to prove to be that night. The idea of walking home in such weather wasn't particularly inviting, but with her mother out of town for the week and her dad working late, her choices were rather low. A quick check in her pockets further lessened her choices when she came up completely void of money.
"Shit!"
The rain started up then, unleashing a stream of curses from Santana's mouth as she fumbles to pull on he hood of her jacket. The wind continues to blow, and Santana slips under the wooden boards of the playground, thankful for the slight protection from the elements.
It's there, crouched down beneath wooden boards as she tries to hide from the elements, that Santana decides not to go home.
Maybe it comes from a slight sense of pity for herself, or maybe it's just purely anger, but whatever the reasoning is behind it, Santana knows she has no interest in returning home. Or to school for that matter. So Santana gets comfortable in her spot, hunkering down and closing her eyes as she tries to think of anything but the thought of being alone. After awhile its easy, because as the water slowly seeps into her clothing and the cold continues to bite, her physical discomfort heightens enough to block out everything else.
By the time the thunder and lightning start up, Santana has lost track of time: her focus finally shifting from herself and onto the world around her. The playground opens up onto a small field, so for a few yards there is nothing visible but sky, giving Santana a clear view of the sheets of blinding white flashing across the sky.
It’s enjoyable, the soft humming of the earth and the smell of wet grass. The rain has let up slightly, so Santana pulls herself out from under the shelter of the wood and makes her way slowly to the grass of the field. After a brief moment of hesitation, Santana sinks down onto the grass, letting her body relax into the damp earth.
For a moment, Santana feels like she’s floating, content in the moment as water spatters gently across her face and the low rumbles of thunder seem to creep closer and closer. There, her back soaking up water like a sponge and her wet hair beginning to scratch at her cheeks, nothing else seems to hold any relevance. The fight she had with Brittany falls from the forefront of her mind, allowing her to finally let go of the anger that has slowly been building up in her chest.
The lightning flashes again and Santana lets her eyes flick across the sky, her mind slipping back into memories as she shifts her body slightly to relieve to pressure on her side. The corners of her lips curl gently as she calls back a time not too long ago that Brittany and her had been lying in the same spot, watching blue skies and fluffy white clouds traipse lazily across the sky. But the sky is angry now, and Santana can’t help but scoff at the perfect reflection of her earlier mood.
“Santana!”
Santana turns her head slowly, leveraging herself up slightly with the help of her arm. Her forehead wrinkles as her eyes focus in the shape of a tall person running towards her, their face shielded by a large hood.
“Santana!? San!?”
Her voice is called again and Santana pulls herself into a sitting position. “Yeah?” Her voice is tentative as she responds, eyes still struggling to make out the form that is now bounding over the divider between the gravel and the grass.
“San! Oh I was so worried I called your house but no one was there!”
Santana knows that voice. She knew that voice from the moment it first called her name, though she hadn’t wanted to get her hopes up.
“San!” Brittany slides to a stop, showering Santana with a fresh wave of water as her arms windmill wildly in an attempt to catch her balance. Her hood is caught by a fresh rush of wind, and suddenly she is standing over Santana with her hair whipping across her face as her eyes search frantically for some sign that Santana is OK.
“Brittany,” she says it quickly, making a move to get to her feet before Brittany can see anymore of her weakness. It doesn’t go as planned, however, because as soon as the word has left her mouth, Brittany is crashing into her, her arms wrapped tightly around Santana’s waist as she lets out short shaky breaths.
“Saaaaan,” Brittany’s voice has a slight quaver to it as she speaks, triggering Santana’s memory of just how much Brittany hates storms like these.
“It’s like the sky is fighting, and taking out its anger on everyone, San. Why can’t it just be happy?” “I dunno BrittBritt, but it gives us nice rainbows after.” “Like make-up sex.” “I guess, sure.”
“What are you doing out here?” Santana pulls them both up into a sitting position as she asks, her body now fully aware of the cold fabric and muddy water soaked deep into her clothing.
“I came looking for you San. You’re my best friend and I was worried about you,” Brittany leans back as she says this, eyes searching out Santana’s before looking down.
Santana feels her heart do something strange, giving her the feeling of being halfway between elated and heartbroken.
Brittany cared about her enough to come looking for her in a thunderstorm. Brittany didn’t say she loved her.
A clap of thunder sounds, and Brittany grimaces, her eyes flickering upwards. Santana makes a move to stand, not wanting to keep Brittany from feeling safe.
“No.”
The words surprises Santana, and she lets herself be pulled back to the ground where Brittany shifts onto her knees, her hands finding Santana’s as she eyes shift around nervously. They stay like that for a moment, then Santana coughs, and Brittany raises her gaze, her blue eyes dulled slightly but the storm surrounding them.
“I was talking to Quinn today. And I watched this show awhile back. It was on one of those channels after a show about kittens. There was a little white kitten.”
Santana nods, waiting patiently for Brittany to hook back onto her train of thought.
“And Sam. I talked to him too. He’s nice, but he’s mad at you you know. He was complaining about your mean song.”
Santana opens her mouth to shoot out some snappy retort but Brittany leans forward, resting her forehead against Santana’s for a moment before continuing.
“People don’t stay together after high school, usually. Did you know that?”
There is a small pause, in which Santana wonders if the question wants a response, then Brittany continues.
“People break up and they fight and go to different colleges and stuff. They don’t spend the rest of their lives together. They want different things.”
Santana doesn’t like where this seems to be going, but when she opens her mouth to protest, Brittany leans back.
“And I love you San. I love you, and I don’t want to fight and go to different colleges and forget about you.” Brittany takes in a breath and Santana reaches out to cup Brittany’s cheek in her palm.
“I love you too honey,” Santana leans forward then, expecting them to kiss and let it go, but after a moment Brittany pushes Santana lightly away.
“I told you I would be yours, if I ever broke up with Artie,” Brittany tangles their fingers together more tightly now, trying to relieve the tension now present in Santana’s body at the mention of the locker confession. “But, that wasn’t good enough? You didn’t believe me?”
Brittany is struggling for an answer now, but Santana just bows her head, now trusting herself to speak anymore.
“So-” Brittany withdraws one of her hands and reaches into her dark blue poncho, “I got you something, because… I thought… I wanted to make sure you believed me. And I want to be good enough San. So I got you this,” Brittany pulls a small box out, then fumbles to open it with her one hand.
“See, I was talking to Quinn a long time ago and she had this nice ring and I asked her about it and she said that it was because Sam was promising to love her forever so I went to talk to Sam today and-”
A clap of thunder cuts Brittany off and she winces. Santana reaches out to pull her in for a hug, but Brittany stands her ground, despite her visible shaking.
“So I asked Sam about it and he wasn’t too happy. He’s mad at Quinn still. But he said it was a ring to promise love, so I thought maybe you’d be happy if I gave you a ring. And also, you wanted bling for Christmas this year and I kinda just bought you that kitten stuffy so…”
Santana can feel tears now, but she doesn’t look away.
“So, Santana, I promise to love you forever. And be yours, proudly so.” Brittany lifts the ring gently out of the box, pulling Santana’s hand towards her. Santana smiles softly, letting the small tears run their way down her cheeks, seeming to burn down her cheeks in contrast to the icy rain. “And this one is mine, because I have to promise you something too, right?”
Brittany kisses her then, and Santana loses her train of thought.
They leave soon after. Brittany’s car is parked on the side of the road, and Santana is happy to find herself in a dry space. The heater is turned on immediately, though the few minutes of blowing cold air before it actually starts working sends the both of them into a fit of shivers. Brittany leaves the radio off, and Santana doesn’t complain, although it is far from silent with the storm still going on its merry way around them.
“What about Artie?” Santana realizes suddenly that there is a key point in the story missing, her cold fingers slowly warming up as they fiddle with her new item of jewelry under the blasting heat vent.
“We broke up. I told him I didn’t want to risk losing you.”
The sentences are clear, and Santana can feel a smile slowly start to overtake her face. She reaches out and rests her hand on Brittany’s thigh.
“I love you.”
“I’m glad. I love you too.”
They travel in silence for the rest of the ride, and continue not to speak as they slide out of the car and dash onto the porch of Santana’s house. They slide through the door quickly, dropping their layers of wet clothing as they make their way inside the empty house.
For the first time in quite awhile, Santana thanks the gods for the emptiness.
They fill up the large bathtub, and Brittany spends her sweet time choosing the perfect bubble bath. Brittany finds her favorite rubber ducky under Santana’s sink, and finally the two of them sink into the suds, warm for the first time in hours.
Hours later they lie curled together in Santana’s bed. Brittany’s is close to sleep, but Santana is still wide awake, her mind spinning from the events of the day. She moves slightly, and Brittany stirs, rolling over so that she is facing Santana.
“I missed your sweet lady kisses.”
Santana smiles softly, brushing her lips gently against Brittany’s forehead before letting her head fall back on the pillow and her eyes fall shut.
Pairing: Brittany/Santana
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2, 670
Summary: Santana is tired of being everyone's second, Brittany included.
Spoilers: Sexy, Original Song
Disclaimer: don't own Glee.
---
"You want everything, Britt. EVERYTHING! But you can't have it. You can't just stand there and have it all. It's just NOT HOW IT WORKS!"
Brittany cringes under Santana's harsh tone, shrinking back against the locker, her eyes pleading with Santana.
"It's me or him Britt. Me or him."
"Santana please. Please I don't want to hurt anyone. Please, please understand. I love you! But I don't want to hurt anyone!"
Santana just shrugs, stepping slowly backwards. Brittany reaches out for her arm, and Santana pulls back quickly, Brittany's hand falling back to her side just like the first time Santana had asked for her. But this time is different. Brittany knows what life without Santana is like now. She knows how very much she misses the constant company of her best friend. She knows now that without Santana, she feels lost.
Santana waits another moment, then turns and once again leaves Brittany standing alone.
The day drags by after that, without even the distraction of the Cheerios to get Santana thinking of things other than how Brittany wasn't choosing her. How Brittany seemed so very intent on spending her high school life with Wheels.
She skips Glee club that afternoon, opting to spend as little time with other people as she possibly could. Instead she decides to make her way down to the park, leaving the school behind her as her legs carry her quickly along the sidewalk.
The sky is getting cloudy by the time she finally reaches the gravel expanse of the playground. A few kids run around, mainly keeping to the slides and the climbing areas. One of the mothers glances up at her as she walks past, and Santana gives her a curt nod before making her way over to the swings. She watches as two of the children get into some sort of argument, then feels a slight wave of remorse when the little boy pushes the other child into the wooden panels of the steps.
Santana debates breaking up the fight that has now broken out, but before she can rise up off the swing, the mother comes over. She scolds each of he kids in turn, then brings them close to her, inspection their wounds and planting a light kiss to a large scrape on the boy's elbow. Santana smiles slightly as the mother leads the two children off, her feet digging up small ruts in he gravel all the while.
The winds starts to pick up then, and ye cool breeze turns into viscous air currents, hell bent on pulling her hair out of it's carefully constructed ponytail and across her face. She squints, lifting up her hand and pulling her hair back again to rest behind her neck. It's then that she notices the last of the kids have gone, and she is alone.
How fitting, she muses, closing her eyes and leaning against the thick chain of that held her up. I'm all alone, again. She can't help it now, and her eyes well up with the tears she'd been holding in since her short talk with Brittany that morning.
Santana Lopez was used to being everyone else's second choice. She was used to never being called first on teams, used to working ten times harder than anyone else just to stay set in her cozy little second-best spot. She was Puck's second choice. She was Sam's second choice. Quinn hadn't ever even asked for her help, in all those moths. Sure, Santana probably wouldn't have given her anything, but it would have been nice to be a first choice. Just once.
It had always been different with Brittany though. Brittany had always been right beside Santana, happy and bright and just there. They'd know each other for what felt like ever, and Santana had never really though anything about how much she needed Brittany until Brittany was gone. Then Santana had been alone for the first time in what felt like forever.
A quivering sigh escapes Santana's lips, and she realizes that she's shaking; whether it is from the cold or from the silent sobs wracking her body, Santana is unsure. She sits up slowly, dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve before sliding off the swing and looking around herself once again.
The sun has disappeared behind a mass of grey clouds and the wind has picked up, showing Santana how accurate the storm forecast was going to prove to be that night. The idea of walking home in such weather wasn't particularly inviting, but with her mother out of town for the week and her dad working late, her choices were rather low. A quick check in her pockets further lessened her choices when she came up completely void of money.
"Shit!"
The rain started up then, unleashing a stream of curses from Santana's mouth as she fumbles to pull on he hood of her jacket. The wind continues to blow, and Santana slips under the wooden boards of the playground, thankful for the slight protection from the elements.
It's there, crouched down beneath wooden boards as she tries to hide from the elements, that Santana decides not to go home.
Maybe it comes from a slight sense of pity for herself, or maybe it's just purely anger, but whatever the reasoning is behind it, Santana knows she has no interest in returning home. Or to school for that matter. So Santana gets comfortable in her spot, hunkering down and closing her eyes as she tries to think of anything but the thought of being alone. After awhile its easy, because as the water slowly seeps into her clothing and the cold continues to bite, her physical discomfort heightens enough to block out everything else.
By the time the thunder and lightning start up, Santana has lost track of time: her focus finally shifting from herself and onto the world around her. The playground opens up onto a small field, so for a few yards there is nothing visible but sky, giving Santana a clear view of the sheets of blinding white flashing across the sky.
It’s enjoyable, the soft humming of the earth and the smell of wet grass. The rain has let up slightly, so Santana pulls herself out from under the shelter of the wood and makes her way slowly to the grass of the field. After a brief moment of hesitation, Santana sinks down onto the grass, letting her body relax into the damp earth.
For a moment, Santana feels like she’s floating, content in the moment as water spatters gently across her face and the low rumbles of thunder seem to creep closer and closer. There, her back soaking up water like a sponge and her wet hair beginning to scratch at her cheeks, nothing else seems to hold any relevance. The fight she had with Brittany falls from the forefront of her mind, allowing her to finally let go of the anger that has slowly been building up in her chest.
The lightning flashes again and Santana lets her eyes flick across the sky, her mind slipping back into memories as she shifts her body slightly to relieve to pressure on her side. The corners of her lips curl gently as she calls back a time not too long ago that Brittany and her had been lying in the same spot, watching blue skies and fluffy white clouds traipse lazily across the sky. But the sky is angry now, and Santana can’t help but scoff at the perfect reflection of her earlier mood.
“Santana!”
Santana turns her head slowly, leveraging herself up slightly with the help of her arm. Her forehead wrinkles as her eyes focus in the shape of a tall person running towards her, their face shielded by a large hood.
“Santana!? San!?”
Her voice is called again and Santana pulls herself into a sitting position. “Yeah?” Her voice is tentative as she responds, eyes still struggling to make out the form that is now bounding over the divider between the gravel and the grass.
“San! Oh I was so worried I called your house but no one was there!”
Santana knows that voice. She knew that voice from the moment it first called her name, though she hadn’t wanted to get her hopes up.
“San!” Brittany slides to a stop, showering Santana with a fresh wave of water as her arms windmill wildly in an attempt to catch her balance. Her hood is caught by a fresh rush of wind, and suddenly she is standing over Santana with her hair whipping across her face as her eyes search frantically for some sign that Santana is OK.
“Brittany,” she says it quickly, making a move to get to her feet before Brittany can see anymore of her weakness. It doesn’t go as planned, however, because as soon as the word has left her mouth, Brittany is crashing into her, her arms wrapped tightly around Santana’s waist as she lets out short shaky breaths.
“Saaaaan,” Brittany’s voice has a slight quaver to it as she speaks, triggering Santana’s memory of just how much Brittany hates storms like these.
“It’s like the sky is fighting, and taking out its anger on everyone, San. Why can’t it just be happy?” “I dunno BrittBritt, but it gives us nice rainbows after.” “Like make-up sex.” “I guess, sure.”
“What are you doing out here?” Santana pulls them both up into a sitting position as she asks, her body now fully aware of the cold fabric and muddy water soaked deep into her clothing.
“I came looking for you San. You’re my best friend and I was worried about you,” Brittany leans back as she says this, eyes searching out Santana’s before looking down.
Santana feels her heart do something strange, giving her the feeling of being halfway between elated and heartbroken.
Brittany cared about her enough to come looking for her in a thunderstorm. Brittany didn’t say she loved her.
A clap of thunder sounds, and Brittany grimaces, her eyes flickering upwards. Santana makes a move to stand, not wanting to keep Brittany from feeling safe.
“No.”
The words surprises Santana, and she lets herself be pulled back to the ground where Brittany shifts onto her knees, her hands finding Santana’s as she eyes shift around nervously. They stay like that for a moment, then Santana coughs, and Brittany raises her gaze, her blue eyes dulled slightly but the storm surrounding them.
“I was talking to Quinn today. And I watched this show awhile back. It was on one of those channels after a show about kittens. There was a little white kitten.”
Santana nods, waiting patiently for Brittany to hook back onto her train of thought.
“And Sam. I talked to him too. He’s nice, but he’s mad at you you know. He was complaining about your mean song.”
Santana opens her mouth to shoot out some snappy retort but Brittany leans forward, resting her forehead against Santana’s for a moment before continuing.
“People don’t stay together after high school, usually. Did you know that?”
There is a small pause, in which Santana wonders if the question wants a response, then Brittany continues.
“People break up and they fight and go to different colleges and stuff. They don’t spend the rest of their lives together. They want different things.”
Santana doesn’t like where this seems to be going, but when she opens her mouth to protest, Brittany leans back.
“And I love you San. I love you, and I don’t want to fight and go to different colleges and forget about you.” Brittany takes in a breath and Santana reaches out to cup Brittany’s cheek in her palm.
“I love you too honey,” Santana leans forward then, expecting them to kiss and let it go, but after a moment Brittany pushes Santana lightly away.
“I told you I would be yours, if I ever broke up with Artie,” Brittany tangles their fingers together more tightly now, trying to relieve the tension now present in Santana’s body at the mention of the locker confession. “But, that wasn’t good enough? You didn’t believe me?”
Brittany is struggling for an answer now, but Santana just bows her head, now trusting herself to speak anymore.
“So-” Brittany withdraws one of her hands and reaches into her dark blue poncho, “I got you something, because… I thought… I wanted to make sure you believed me. And I want to be good enough San. So I got you this,” Brittany pulls a small box out, then fumbles to open it with her one hand.
“See, I was talking to Quinn a long time ago and she had this nice ring and I asked her about it and she said that it was because Sam was promising to love her forever so I went to talk to Sam today and-”
A clap of thunder cuts Brittany off and she winces. Santana reaches out to pull her in for a hug, but Brittany stands her ground, despite her visible shaking.
“So I asked Sam about it and he wasn’t too happy. He’s mad at Quinn still. But he said it was a ring to promise love, so I thought maybe you’d be happy if I gave you a ring. And also, you wanted bling for Christmas this year and I kinda just bought you that kitten stuffy so…”
Santana can feel tears now, but she doesn’t look away.
“So, Santana, I promise to love you forever. And be yours, proudly so.” Brittany lifts the ring gently out of the box, pulling Santana’s hand towards her. Santana smiles softly, letting the small tears run their way down her cheeks, seeming to burn down her cheeks in contrast to the icy rain. “And this one is mine, because I have to promise you something too, right?”
Brittany kisses her then, and Santana loses her train of thought.
They leave soon after. Brittany’s car is parked on the side of the road, and Santana is happy to find herself in a dry space. The heater is turned on immediately, though the few minutes of blowing cold air before it actually starts working sends the both of them into a fit of shivers. Brittany leaves the radio off, and Santana doesn’t complain, although it is far from silent with the storm still going on its merry way around them.
“What about Artie?” Santana realizes suddenly that there is a key point in the story missing, her cold fingers slowly warming up as they fiddle with her new item of jewelry under the blasting heat vent.
“We broke up. I told him I didn’t want to risk losing you.”
The sentences are clear, and Santana can feel a smile slowly start to overtake her face. She reaches out and rests her hand on Brittany’s thigh.
“I love you.”
“I’m glad. I love you too.”
They travel in silence for the rest of the ride, and continue not to speak as they slide out of the car and dash onto the porch of Santana’s house. They slide through the door quickly, dropping their layers of wet clothing as they make their way inside the empty house.
For the first time in quite awhile, Santana thanks the gods for the emptiness.
They fill up the large bathtub, and Brittany spends her sweet time choosing the perfect bubble bath. Brittany finds her favorite rubber ducky under Santana’s sink, and finally the two of them sink into the suds, warm for the first time in hours.
Hours later they lie curled together in Santana’s bed. Brittany’s is close to sleep, but Santana is still wide awake, her mind spinning from the events of the day. She moves slightly, and Brittany stirs, rolling over so that she is facing Santana.
“I missed your sweet lady kisses.”
Santana smiles softly, brushing her lips gently against Brittany’s forehead before letting her head fall back on the pillow and her eyes fall shut.