The Aftermath (1/?)
Note:
I've started to write a Brittana (probably eventual Faberry, I think) Fan-Fic - set a short time after Nationals, I'm just posting the first chapter on here for feedback etc. before I start working on more chapters!
It's my first shot at this so please give me your honest opinion, muchly appreciated!
Oh, take into account it's not really been edited properly or spell-checked so apologies for any silly/stupid/annoying mistakes....
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Anything is possible
For the umpteenth time Santana growled in frustration at those words and that memory, the sound incoherent and muffled against her pillow. She lay face down in her double bed splayed across it's length - she lifted her head up slightly with as little effort as possible and glanced at the digital display to her left;
the time read 2:35am
Another sound passed her lips, but this time it was more of a groan than a growl. She was still fully clothed and, although her black leather boots were extremely irritating, she had yet to remove those either. She was uncomfortable, but not uncomfortable enough to do anything about it. She was exhausted, but not exhausted enough to fall asleep - it was just so fucking annoying! Her brain was working overtime, her thoughts focusing on one thing alone and those thoughts were making everything else in her life redundant and impossible to care about.....
She reached her hand up and smirked in satisfaction as her first made a jarring connection with the jet black wall in front of her, the excruciating pain in her hand was a welcome, momentary distraction -
"SANTANA!", she cringed as her father's bellow drifted into her room,
"That sound had better be you falling out of bed and NOT you punching holes in my beautiful house, AGAIN!"
She sighed, rolled over so that she was facing her door, cradled her now extremely sore hand and shouted back what she hoped sounded like a genuine apology. The walls in the Lopez home were relatively thin so Santana heard her father when he mumbled something about 'therapy' and a certain blonde ex-cheerleader to his wife. Santana's blood boiled and just as she got up to punch something other than her bedroom wall (i.e her father's face) her phone beeped, signalling that she had received a message. A small smile threatened, tugging the corners of her lips up ever so slightly, because she knew exactly who it was. Only one person would think it was okay to text Santana Lopez in the early hours of the morning without fear of serious, perhaps even fatal, consequences. She reached out for her phone with her good hand and flipped it up in one fluid, almost graceful, movement - then she did something she hadn't done in days, she laughed.
* * * * * *
Quinn Fabray was pissed. She was pissed for numerous reasons. The first one being that her mother had used the last of the bacon this morning and then refused to go shopping, that is - until Quinn told her where she had hidden the bottle of Vodka she had tried to slip past her last night. Quinn often found herself wondering who the teenage girl was in her house, being black-mailed in your own home is never a good way to start the day, Quinn thought to herself. As well as this absurd, petty exchange with her mother - Quinn managed to get her newly cut short locks caught in her hoodie when she tried, and failed, to pull it off without unzipping it. This was followed by a lot of screaming and her Mum deciding that it was the funniest thing she'd seen in her life, leading to another argument and then resulting in being stuck in her clothing a lot longer than anyone should ever be. But these reasons were nothing really, she was properly and truly pissed because of Santana.
Ever since middle-school Quinn and Santana would set aside one day in the month, one day every month for going on 6 years now. Their little get together used to be held at the girl's houses but a few years back they decided a change was necessary - so they moved their monthly meeting to Breadstix. It was a constant, no matter what was happening in either of the girls' lives, they ALWAYS met at Breadstix on the last Thursday of every month. Even when they were having problems such as trying not to kill each other when their friendship wasn't exactly intact, they always managed to make it up before that Thursday. Sure, lately things had been getting worse rather than better - it even amounted to a physical fight a few months ago when Quinn regained her Head-cheerleader position through means of telling Coach Sylvester of Santana's summer escapades, effectively replacing Santana. But they talked, sort of worked it out, and by the time monthly meeting came around - it was like nothing had ever happened.
They were best friends, it may not have always been evident to everyone else around them - hell, even to each other sometimes, but nonetheless they knew each other better than they knew themselves most of the time. Which meant they had both talked eachother out of doing some extremely stupid things and encouraged each other when they knew the other was onto something good. It was like some sort of unbreakable bond,the kind that can pull you through the shit that happens constantly throughout high school, the kind that after each fight pulls you back together, whether you happy about it or not at the time. In simple terms, it was love. The sort of love you have for a best friend who knows not only everything about you - but your also all off your hopes, dreams and fears without even having to ask.
The conversation during these 'meetings' could range from what they had for breakfast, to philosophical and religious debates. Throughout middle-school and the start of high school, their conversations focused mainly on boys; who to get, how to get them - Quinn Fabray and Santana Lopez made quite a formidable boy-snatching team. Well, they made quite a formidable anything-team as many McKinley High students knew. When they were together and on form they were practically unstoppable. But then when the joined Glee Club, as they grew up and matured the issues became a lot more serious; pregnancy, betrayal, sexuality, Brittany.
So when Santana failed to show, and made Quinn look like she'd been stood up or something - all Quinn wanted to do was sucker-punch the waiter who was shooting her 'sympathetic-but-also-judging-and-also-sort-of-eying-her-up' looks in the crotch. Then she chastised herself for being so dramatic and needlessly angry, that was Lopez's job. She threw the waiter a signature sweet Quinn Fabray smile to ease her conscience as she stormed out of Breadstix an hour and a half after the time Santana and herself had agreed on a week prior, just before they set of for New York for Nationals.
So Quinn waited until 2:45 am exactly, then hit the send button with a little more force than necessary - smiling smugly to herself in the darkness of her room as she re-read the text.
I've started to write a Brittana (probably eventual Faberry, I think) Fan-Fic - set a short time after Nationals, I'm just posting the first chapter on here for feedback etc. before I start working on more chapters!
It's my first shot at this so please give me your honest opinion, muchly appreciated!
Oh, take into account it's not really been edited properly or spell-checked so apologies for any silly/stupid/annoying mistakes....
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Anything is possible
For the umpteenth time Santana growled in frustration at those words and that memory, the sound incoherent and muffled against her pillow. She lay face down in her double bed splayed across it's length - she lifted her head up slightly with as little effort as possible and glanced at the digital display to her left;
the time read 2:35am
Another sound passed her lips, but this time it was more of a groan than a growl. She was still fully clothed and, although her black leather boots were extremely irritating, she had yet to remove those either. She was uncomfortable, but not uncomfortable enough to do anything about it. She was exhausted, but not exhausted enough to fall asleep - it was just so fucking annoying! Her brain was working overtime, her thoughts focusing on one thing alone and those thoughts were making everything else in her life redundant and impossible to care about.....
She reached her hand up and smirked in satisfaction as her first made a jarring connection with the jet black wall in front of her, the excruciating pain in her hand was a welcome, momentary distraction -
"SANTANA!", she cringed as her father's bellow drifted into her room,
"That sound had better be you falling out of bed and NOT you punching holes in my beautiful house, AGAIN!"
She sighed, rolled over so that she was facing her door, cradled her now extremely sore hand and shouted back what she hoped sounded like a genuine apology. The walls in the Lopez home were relatively thin so Santana heard her father when he mumbled something about 'therapy' and a certain blonde ex-cheerleader to his wife. Santana's blood boiled and just as she got up to punch something other than her bedroom wall (i.e her father's face) her phone beeped, signalling that she had received a message. A small smile threatened, tugging the corners of her lips up ever so slightly, because she knew exactly who it was. Only one person would think it was okay to text Santana Lopez in the early hours of the morning without fear of serious, perhaps even fatal, consequences. She reached out for her phone with her good hand and flipped it up in one fluid, almost graceful, movement - then she did something she hadn't done in days, she laughed.
* * * * * *
Quinn Fabray was pissed. She was pissed for numerous reasons. The first one being that her mother had used the last of the bacon this morning and then refused to go shopping, that is - until Quinn told her where she had hidden the bottle of Vodka she had tried to slip past her last night. Quinn often found herself wondering who the teenage girl was in her house, being black-mailed in your own home is never a good way to start the day, Quinn thought to herself. As well as this absurd, petty exchange with her mother - Quinn managed to get her newly cut short locks caught in her hoodie when she tried, and failed, to pull it off without unzipping it. This was followed by a lot of screaming and her Mum deciding that it was the funniest thing she'd seen in her life, leading to another argument and then resulting in being stuck in her clothing a lot longer than anyone should ever be. But these reasons were nothing really, she was properly and truly pissed because of Santana.
Ever since middle-school Quinn and Santana would set aside one day in the month, one day every month for going on 6 years now. Their little get together used to be held at the girl's houses but a few years back they decided a change was necessary - so they moved their monthly meeting to Breadstix. It was a constant, no matter what was happening in either of the girls' lives, they ALWAYS met at Breadstix on the last Thursday of every month. Even when they were having problems such as trying not to kill each other when their friendship wasn't exactly intact, they always managed to make it up before that Thursday. Sure, lately things had been getting worse rather than better - it even amounted to a physical fight a few months ago when Quinn regained her Head-cheerleader position through means of telling Coach Sylvester of Santana's summer escapades, effectively replacing Santana. But they talked, sort of worked it out, and by the time monthly meeting came around - it was like nothing had ever happened.
They were best friends, it may not have always been evident to everyone else around them - hell, even to each other sometimes, but nonetheless they knew each other better than they knew themselves most of the time. Which meant they had both talked eachother out of doing some extremely stupid things and encouraged each other when they knew the other was onto something good. It was like some sort of unbreakable bond,the kind that can pull you through the shit that happens constantly throughout high school, the kind that after each fight pulls you back together, whether you happy about it or not at the time. In simple terms, it was love. The sort of love you have for a best friend who knows not only everything about you - but your also all off your hopes, dreams and fears without even having to ask.
The conversation during these 'meetings' could range from what they had for breakfast, to philosophical and religious debates. Throughout middle-school and the start of high school, their conversations focused mainly on boys; who to get, how to get them - Quinn Fabray and Santana Lopez made quite a formidable boy-snatching team. Well, they made quite a formidable anything-team as many McKinley High students knew. When they were together and on form they were practically unstoppable. But then when the joined Glee Club, as they grew up and matured the issues became a lot more serious; pregnancy, betrayal, sexuality, Brittany.
So when Santana failed to show, and made Quinn look like she'd been stood up or something - all Quinn wanted to do was sucker-punch the waiter who was shooting her 'sympathetic-but-also-judging-and-also-sort-of-eying-her-up' looks in the crotch. Then she chastised herself for being so dramatic and needlessly angry, that was Lopez's job. She threw the waiter a signature sweet Quinn Fabray smile to ease her conscience as she stormed out of Breadstix an hour and a half after the time Santana and herself had agreed on a week prior, just before they set of for New York for Nationals.
So Quinn waited until 2:45 am exactly, then hit the send button with a little more force than necessary - smiling smugly to herself in the darkness of her room as she re-read the text.