Fic: Flashbacks 11/?
Title: Flashbacks 11/?
Pairing: Santana/Brittany
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Set in the future. Brittany is married.
Author's note: This is the sequel to It's A Nice Day For A White Wedding, although as usual there are little references to other fictions that i've done. This is probably going to be a long haul as Brittany and Santana have a lot of stuff to work through, it'd be great if you stuck with it though :) Mainly from Brittany's point of view though there will be some Santana perspective thrown in!
Chapter One Chapter Six
Chapter Two Chapter Seven
Chapter Three Chapter Eight
Chapter Four Chapter Nine
Chapter Five Chapter Ten
It’s been four days since Santana left the house after smiling at Brittany peacefully sleeping on her sofa, and it’s been four days since she’s seen her. It’s like that weekend was a dream, a very vivid dream because now there’s no sign that Brittany was ever there, except a bowl, spoon and glass which had been left on the draining board.
Santana doesn’t have her number and she doesn’t know her address, sure she knows the area but she’s not going to knock on every door asking for Brittany Woodfall, although there was a time when she would have done that and more. Santana figures the ball just isn’t in her court any more, if Brittany doesn’t want to see her then she won’t, it’s not Santana’s fault. She’s been nothing but gallant in all this, sure she went off the handle a little that Saturday, but she’d been polite before that, and on Sunday she was on her best behaviour, she didn’t even attempt seduction or anything and that would have been easy in the circumstances. But Santana wouldn’t do that because Brittany is married now and she’s not sure she could take being rejected or playing second fiddle, even though the idea of being Brittany’s mistress does turn her on a bit. She’s better than that though. Santana Lopez is nobody’s mistress.
Quinn comes round that evening, always a Thursday, and Santana’s glad Brittany’s not around actually, as Quinn would probably be giving her concerned looks while trying to cover over doing so, in case Brittany cottons on, not that she would because Brittany always bowed to Quinn when they were younger, she wouldn’t challenge her even if she had all the evidence in the world, she’d just do as she was told. Although maybe that’s all changed now, Santana doesn’t really know why she’s thinking about it because Brittany’s not even here right now.
‘Lopez, are you with me? Hello, are you even listening?’
‘I try not to Daniels.’
‘Very mature Santana. But anyway the granite finish will obviously look better; I’m not sure why Tom thinks otherwise.’
‘Brittany’s back.’
‘Ok, I know my home furnishings may bore you but no need to be blunt. I heard her greatest hits went multi platinum, is she not happy with that?! Does she think she’s Madonna or something? Because even she couldn’t pull it off once she turned 50. I can’t see her doing very well, have you heard the single then?’
‘Not Britney Britney, Brittany Brittany.’
‘What?’
‘Yeah.’
‘What?! You’re serious? What do you mean ‘back’? Back where? When?’
‘I don’t know; she just rocked up on my doorstep on Saturday. They’ve moved to L.A. Haven’t seen her since Monday morning.’
‘She, wait, what? Monday morning? Santana! Did you-’
‘What?! No! No, I would never…she’s fucking married Quinn.’
‘I know but that didn’t stop you at the wed-’
‘Just leave it. That was then, this is now. She chose him. End of.’
‘What is she doing here then? Why did she come to see you?’
‘God knows. She wants to be friends.’
‘I can believe that, she always was sunshine and rainbows, woman needs to get her head in the real world.’
‘She has her head in the real world, Fabray, she’s just sweet. ’
‘It’s Daniels.’
‘I know. It’s just, fuck, it’s like I’m back to where I was 12 years ago.’
‘Well, you’re not. You’re 27 Santana, and Brittany’s married. I don’t know what she’s doing, but be careful.’
‘Was wondering when I’d get the concerned sympathetic look.’
‘I try to be nice, and I get nothing but putdowns from you, you skank.’
‘Likewise, hoe bag.’
‘No, but seriously Santana, be careful.’
Quinn leaves an hour or so later, giving Santana a reassuring hand squeeze, which Santana almost scoffs at, but decides better. She’s not a little girl that needs looking after, she’s a fully grown woman, and a badass lawyer at that, no one messes with her; but for the past few days she’s been feeling that little nervous niggle, the one she had when she was handing over lunch boxes to the new blonde girl who’s lunch Puck had stolen.
Santana spends the next two days feeling like a child, much to her annoyance, she feels snubbed or scolded, for some unknown reason, by Brittany. Like she’s a doll Brittany can pick up and play with when the whim takes her. Santana hates being ignored, or feeling like nothing, she isn’t nothing and she’ll be damned if anyone ignores her, she’s incapable of being ignored, when she steps into a room she usually turns heads, or if not it’s because people are too scared to look, either way she definitely is never ignored. Except Brittany seems to be ignoring her. But this girl, the one right here, now, definitely isn’t ignoring her.
Santana would be lying if she said she didn’t plan this, because she did. Well not with this particular girl but she’d plan on getting a girl, this one fitted the bill pretty perfectly. Santana hasn’t been here in a while and certainly not while she was sober, she’s had one night stands, the majority have been guys reminiscent of Puck, one or two, when she’s been really drunk have been her Brittany for the night. But right now she’s not drunk, in the back of her mind she wishes she were because then she could put it down to that and not just because she’s hung up on Brittany and can’t get the woman out of her head since the weekend. This girl, although she’s no Brittany, is pretty damn hot, she can barley be 20, long blonde hair, pale skin, big blue eyes, long long legs and a pretty decent rack. She’s not drunk either which just proves Santana has still got it, which kind of makes Santana think about why doesn’t Brittany want it, or more suitably didn’t want it, but then this girl is sucking on her lower lip and she forgets that line of thinking.
Santana’s not sure how long they’ve been making out on her couch for, she’s certain though that if she doesn’t get either herself or this girl out of clothes in another minute she might scream. She hastily undoes the zipper on the back of the girl’s dress as she reciprocates by unbuttoning Santana’s shirt and kissing her way down her abdomen to where Santana’s skirt starts, fingering the top of it teasingly. The doorbell chimes but in no way is Santana passing up this for the mailman, she needs this, a parcel can wait, he’ll post a slip through the door. The bell chimes again. Jesus, this girl, she kisses like a pro, she needs to stop messing around and just take off Santana’s god damn skirt already. The doorbell goes again. Oh fuck it; Santana is just going to have to get rid of this persistently dumb mailman.
‘I’ll be two seconds.’
‘But we were just getting somewhere…’ (well, yeah if she were quicker they’d be there already.)
Santana hastily throws on her shirt and buttons it up on the way to the front door. This man is definitely going to regret not just leaving the parcel on the doorstep or driving off and delivering it another day. The doorbell rings again as Santana gets to the door, opening it.
‘Jesus fucking Christ, I’m here already.’
‘Yeah I can see that.’
Brittany coolly replies staring down Santana’s gaping shirt, exposing pretty much everything. If Santana felt like child before it was nothing compared to now, she can’t even master doing up buttons properly.
‘Brittany! Sorry I, I didn’t know it was you.’
‘Yeah that’s kind of how unscheduled visits work, I wa-’
‘Santana, what’s taking so long? I’m having to keep myself occupied and I’d much rather you did it.’
That girl has the worst sense of timing ever
Pairing: Santana/Brittany
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Set in the future. Brittany is married.
Author's note: This is the sequel to It's A Nice Day For A White Wedding, although as usual there are little references to other fictions that i've done. This is probably going to be a long haul as Brittany and Santana have a lot of stuff to work through, it'd be great if you stuck with it though :) Mainly from Brittany's point of view though there will be some Santana perspective thrown in!
Chapter One Chapter Six
Chapter Two Chapter Seven
Chapter Three Chapter Eight
Chapter Four Chapter Nine
Chapter Five Chapter Ten
It’s been four days since Santana left the house after smiling at Brittany peacefully sleeping on her sofa, and it’s been four days since she’s seen her. It’s like that weekend was a dream, a very vivid dream because now there’s no sign that Brittany was ever there, except a bowl, spoon and glass which had been left on the draining board.
Santana doesn’t have her number and she doesn’t know her address, sure she knows the area but she’s not going to knock on every door asking for Brittany Woodfall, although there was a time when she would have done that and more. Santana figures the ball just isn’t in her court any more, if Brittany doesn’t want to see her then she won’t, it’s not Santana’s fault. She’s been nothing but gallant in all this, sure she went off the handle a little that Saturday, but she’d been polite before that, and on Sunday she was on her best behaviour, she didn’t even attempt seduction or anything and that would have been easy in the circumstances. But Santana wouldn’t do that because Brittany is married now and she’s not sure she could take being rejected or playing second fiddle, even though the idea of being Brittany’s mistress does turn her on a bit. She’s better than that though. Santana Lopez is nobody’s mistress.
Quinn comes round that evening, always a Thursday, and Santana’s glad Brittany’s not around actually, as Quinn would probably be giving her concerned looks while trying to cover over doing so, in case Brittany cottons on, not that she would because Brittany always bowed to Quinn when they were younger, she wouldn’t challenge her even if she had all the evidence in the world, she’d just do as she was told. Although maybe that’s all changed now, Santana doesn’t really know why she’s thinking about it because Brittany’s not even here right now.
‘Lopez, are you with me? Hello, are you even listening?’
‘I try not to Daniels.’
‘Very mature Santana. But anyway the granite finish will obviously look better; I’m not sure why Tom thinks otherwise.’
‘Brittany’s back.’
‘Ok, I know my home furnishings may bore you but no need to be blunt. I heard her greatest hits went multi platinum, is she not happy with that?! Does she think she’s Madonna or something? Because even she couldn’t pull it off once she turned 50. I can’t see her doing very well, have you heard the single then?’
‘Not Britney Britney, Brittany Brittany.’
‘What?’
‘Yeah.’
‘What?! You’re serious? What do you mean ‘back’? Back where? When?’
‘I don’t know; she just rocked up on my doorstep on Saturday. They’ve moved to L.A. Haven’t seen her since Monday morning.’
‘She, wait, what? Monday morning? Santana! Did you-’
‘What?! No! No, I would never…she’s fucking married Quinn.’
‘I know but that didn’t stop you at the wed-’
‘Just leave it. That was then, this is now. She chose him. End of.’
‘What is she doing here then? Why did she come to see you?’
‘God knows. She wants to be friends.’
‘I can believe that, she always was sunshine and rainbows, woman needs to get her head in the real world.’
‘She has her head in the real world, Fabray, she’s just sweet. ’
‘It’s Daniels.’
‘I know. It’s just, fuck, it’s like I’m back to where I was 12 years ago.’
‘Well, you’re not. You’re 27 Santana, and Brittany’s married. I don’t know what she’s doing, but be careful.’
‘Was wondering when I’d get the concerned sympathetic look.’
‘I try to be nice, and I get nothing but putdowns from you, you skank.’
‘Likewise, hoe bag.’
‘No, but seriously Santana, be careful.’
Quinn leaves an hour or so later, giving Santana a reassuring hand squeeze, which Santana almost scoffs at, but decides better. She’s not a little girl that needs looking after, she’s a fully grown woman, and a badass lawyer at that, no one messes with her; but for the past few days she’s been feeling that little nervous niggle, the one she had when she was handing over lunch boxes to the new blonde girl who’s lunch Puck had stolen.
Santana spends the next two days feeling like a child, much to her annoyance, she feels snubbed or scolded, for some unknown reason, by Brittany. Like she’s a doll Brittany can pick up and play with when the whim takes her. Santana hates being ignored, or feeling like nothing, she isn’t nothing and she’ll be damned if anyone ignores her, she’s incapable of being ignored, when she steps into a room she usually turns heads, or if not it’s because people are too scared to look, either way she definitely is never ignored. Except Brittany seems to be ignoring her. But this girl, the one right here, now, definitely isn’t ignoring her.
Santana would be lying if she said she didn’t plan this, because she did. Well not with this particular girl but she’d plan on getting a girl, this one fitted the bill pretty perfectly. Santana hasn’t been here in a while and certainly not while she was sober, she’s had one night stands, the majority have been guys reminiscent of Puck, one or two, when she’s been really drunk have been her Brittany for the night. But right now she’s not drunk, in the back of her mind she wishes she were because then she could put it down to that and not just because she’s hung up on Brittany and can’t get the woman out of her head since the weekend. This girl, although she’s no Brittany, is pretty damn hot, she can barley be 20, long blonde hair, pale skin, big blue eyes, long long legs and a pretty decent rack. She’s not drunk either which just proves Santana has still got it, which kind of makes Santana think about why doesn’t Brittany want it, or more suitably didn’t want it, but then this girl is sucking on her lower lip and she forgets that line of thinking.
Santana’s not sure how long they’ve been making out on her couch for, she’s certain though that if she doesn’t get either herself or this girl out of clothes in another minute she might scream. She hastily undoes the zipper on the back of the girl’s dress as she reciprocates by unbuttoning Santana’s shirt and kissing her way down her abdomen to where Santana’s skirt starts, fingering the top of it teasingly. The doorbell chimes but in no way is Santana passing up this for the mailman, she needs this, a parcel can wait, he’ll post a slip through the door. The bell chimes again. Jesus, this girl, she kisses like a pro, she needs to stop messing around and just take off Santana’s god damn skirt already. The doorbell goes again. Oh fuck it; Santana is just going to have to get rid of this persistently dumb mailman.
‘I’ll be two seconds.’
‘But we were just getting somewhere…’ (well, yeah if she were quicker they’d be there already.)
Santana hastily throws on her shirt and buttons it up on the way to the front door. This man is definitely going to regret not just leaving the parcel on the doorstep or driving off and delivering it another day. The doorbell rings again as Santana gets to the door, opening it.
‘Jesus fucking Christ, I’m here already.’
‘Yeah I can see that.’
Brittany coolly replies staring down Santana’s gaping shirt, exposing pretty much everything. If Santana felt like child before it was nothing compared to now, she can’t even master doing up buttons properly.
‘Brittany! Sorry I, I didn’t know it was you.’
‘Yeah that’s kind of how unscheduled visits work, I wa-’
‘Santana, what’s taking so long? I’m having to keep myself occupied and I’d much rather you did it.’
That girl has the worst sense of timing ever