Fic: Flashbacks 13/?
Title: Flashbacks 13/?
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 Eleven
Chapter Two Chapter Seven Chapter Twelve
Chapter Three Chapter Eight
Chapter Four Chapter Nine
Chapter Five Chapter Ten
Brittany was right. She was right to say those things. She was. They were true. Her and Santana are not going out. And since they’re not going out Santana can sleep with whoever she wants to. It didn’t affect Brittany.
But she’s feeling so guilty now. And Santana’s words are slowly chipping away at the lock she’s placed around the box which is hiding whatever it is she doesn’t want to think about. Only now that there’s that small chinking and cracking she can’t really ignore it as much. She should say sorry to Santana. For being mean earlier. And for other things, like the wedding. But then why should she apologise, she couldn’t help what happened, it just happened, it was instinctual, she didn’t know it would happen, she didn’t plan it. How she can she be sorry for something she didn’t even realise was happening? If anything she should apologise for stopping herself in the bathroom that day, because that took a lot of effort, a lot of thought, and if she’s apologising for stopping she should be apologising not only to Santana, but to herself and Camden. Because if she admits she didn’t want to stop then she’ll open her box wide open and everything will come pouring out, like Panda’s box. It is Panda’s box, right? She always struggles to remember mythology like that but that story stuck with her when they learnt it because she wasn’t sure why a panda had a box full of evils, if anything he’d have a box of bamboo shoots. But anyway, she’s not saying she has a box full of evil because that makes her sound evil, it’s just she has a box full of secrets that would hurt people she cares about. Really she doesn’t even have a box, and isn’t too sure why she’s even come up with all this. And right now she is eyeing up her shoe boxes in the wardrobe with some trepidation. Can someone have a phobia of boxes? But yeah, she should fix things with Santana. Not everything because of everything that’s in the ‘box,’ but the most recent things at least.
There’s a note on her floor when she walks in from work Monday evening:
Meet me for dinner tomorrow, 8 at The Wallflower.
There’s no name, but Santana would recognise Brittany’s handwriting anywhere. Santana debates standing her up (not that it’s even standing up, standing up; because that makes it sound like a date), she just thought about not going. Brittany seems to be calling all the shots at the moment, and she kind of hates it. Brittany was the one to visit her and dictated when, and now she’s telling Santana when and where to be tomorrow night. What if she’s has plans? Is she just meant to drop everything for the girl who broke her heart? The answer always comes back to yes, because no matter how much Santana hates Brittany, she still clutches at the chance to see her, because really she doesn’t hate her at all.
Tomorrow at 8 flies round and Santana’s strolling into The Wallflower spotting a nervous looking Brittany in the corner. So what if she was 15 minutes late? Santana takes a little pleasure in turning up when she wants to, and a little bit more for making the blonde squirm.
‘Santana.’
‘Brittany.’
‘How are you?’
‘I’m ok - listen I’ve only just got here, I don’t know what I want to eat yet - how are you?’
‘That was a little rude. I’m ok.’
‘No it wasn’t he could see I’ve only just gotten here, I haven’t even taken my jacket off. Why do people have to be in such a rush?’
‘It’s his job. You’d moan if he was slow.’
‘No I wouldn’t.’
‘Yes you would.’
‘No I wouldn’t. I’ve got nothing better to do with my time; he may as well be slow.’
‘You’d get hungry.’
‘No I wouldn’t.’
‘Yes you would.’
‘He could take all night and I wouldn’t die of starvation.’
‘No, you’d get fed up and complain and then get your food.’
‘No I wouldn’t - listen I still haven’t had chance to look at the menu yet- I wouldn’t complain.’
‘You would.’
Jesus Christ she invites her out to argue with her. What is with that? She’ll give as good as she gets, she’s Santana Lopez. Santana scans the menu briefly, snaps her fingers and orders, leaving Brittany stumbling to find a meal and settling with the same.
‘I wasn’t ready.’
‘Weren’t you?’
‘No’
‘I think you were.’
‘No I wasn’t’
‘Yeah you were.’
‘You can’t know that.’
‘You can’t know I’d moan if he was taking too long.’
Eurgh. Brittany had forgotten how stubborn Santana could be. She’s not going to sit and argue with her though; she’ll just rise above it. She came here to fix things, not make them worse.
‘Sorry.’
‘For what?’
‘For assuming you’d moan.’
‘That’s ok. Sorry for making you order before you were ready. If you want to change I’ll go find the waiter?’
‘No it’s cool.’
They sit in silence for a little while, sipping their waters and avoiding eye contact, or sneaking glances at the other when they weren’t looking.
‘Santana, I’m sorry for what I said the other day.’
‘It’s ok.’
‘No it’s not, I’m not sure why I got so angry and snapped.’
‘No really it’s fine. Maybe I kind of needed to hear it. And I’m sorry for saying those things back.’ (She’s not sorry at all, not really, but out of politeness Santana thinks she ought to apologise.)
‘Thanks for being polite, but you’re not sorry, and you shouldn’t have to be. I’ve got some things to be sorry for.’ Brittany avoids eye contact and her tone quietens, Santana can feel the awkwardness pressing down on them, and her vision is dimming a little. It might not be the best place or time for this.
‘You don’t have to do this.’
‘Yes I do. I’m sorry about the wedding day, for what happened in the bathroom. I didn’t expect it. It shook me and I ran away, and I’m sorry.’
Santana’s surveying Brittany. She’s a little fidgety, a little flushed, the tips of her ears going that delightful tinge of pink she gets when she’s embarrassed. Santana doesn’t quite get all the awkwardness and avoidance; sure there should be some, but this much?! They’ve skirted around that day enough, and been in each other’s company enough, for this to not be so awkward, it’s like a necessary thing or something. Say it and move on. Brittany must have been planning this so she should be coping way better than she is. Plus now she’s sucking in her lips, something she only does when she’s thinking extra carefully, or lying. Brittany looks up from fiddling with her cutlery and makes eye contact with Santana, immediately jolting her (damn those blue eyes should come with some kind of health warning), and flashing them away just as quickly, coughing a little and taking a sip of water.
‘Thank you. For the apology. What happened, I still don’t understand it. I know this might be inappropriate or whatever, but it felt like you wanted me. And for you to want me on your wedding day? I understand it shook you.’
‘I, er. I didn’t, erm - ah thank you! This looks really good! Doesn’t it look tasty, Santana?’
Santana’s eyes glint. ‘Yeah it does, it was a little slow coming though.’
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 Eleven
Chapter Two Chapter Seven Chapter Twelve
Chapter Three Chapter Eight
Chapter Four Chapter Nine
Chapter Five Chapter Ten
Brittany was right. She was right to say those things. She was. They were true. Her and Santana are not going out. And since they’re not going out Santana can sleep with whoever she wants to. It didn’t affect Brittany.
But she’s feeling so guilty now. And Santana’s words are slowly chipping away at the lock she’s placed around the box which is hiding whatever it is she doesn’t want to think about. Only now that there’s that small chinking and cracking she can’t really ignore it as much. She should say sorry to Santana. For being mean earlier. And for other things, like the wedding. But then why should she apologise, she couldn’t help what happened, it just happened, it was instinctual, she didn’t know it would happen, she didn’t plan it. How she can she be sorry for something she didn’t even realise was happening? If anything she should apologise for stopping herself in the bathroom that day, because that took a lot of effort, a lot of thought, and if she’s apologising for stopping she should be apologising not only to Santana, but to herself and Camden. Because if she admits she didn’t want to stop then she’ll open her box wide open and everything will come pouring out, like Panda’s box. It is Panda’s box, right? She always struggles to remember mythology like that but that story stuck with her when they learnt it because she wasn’t sure why a panda had a box full of evils, if anything he’d have a box of bamboo shoots. But anyway, she’s not saying she has a box full of evil because that makes her sound evil, it’s just she has a box full of secrets that would hurt people she cares about. Really she doesn’t even have a box, and isn’t too sure why she’s even come up with all this. And right now she is eyeing up her shoe boxes in the wardrobe with some trepidation. Can someone have a phobia of boxes? But yeah, she should fix things with Santana. Not everything because of everything that’s in the ‘box,’ but the most recent things at least.
There’s a note on her floor when she walks in from work Monday evening:
Meet me for dinner tomorrow, 8 at The Wallflower.
There’s no name, but Santana would recognise Brittany’s handwriting anywhere. Santana debates standing her up (not that it’s even standing up, standing up; because that makes it sound like a date), she just thought about not going. Brittany seems to be calling all the shots at the moment, and she kind of hates it. Brittany was the one to visit her and dictated when, and now she’s telling Santana when and where to be tomorrow night. What if she’s has plans? Is she just meant to drop everything for the girl who broke her heart? The answer always comes back to yes, because no matter how much Santana hates Brittany, she still clutches at the chance to see her, because really she doesn’t hate her at all.
Tomorrow at 8 flies round and Santana’s strolling into The Wallflower spotting a nervous looking Brittany in the corner. So what if she was 15 minutes late? Santana takes a little pleasure in turning up when she wants to, and a little bit more for making the blonde squirm.
‘Santana.’
‘Brittany.’
‘How are you?’
‘I’m ok - listen I’ve only just got here, I don’t know what I want to eat yet - how are you?’
‘That was a little rude. I’m ok.’
‘No it wasn’t he could see I’ve only just gotten here, I haven’t even taken my jacket off. Why do people have to be in such a rush?’
‘It’s his job. You’d moan if he was slow.’
‘No I wouldn’t.’
‘Yes you would.’
‘No I wouldn’t. I’ve got nothing better to do with my time; he may as well be slow.’
‘You’d get hungry.’
‘No I wouldn’t.’
‘Yes you would.’
‘He could take all night and I wouldn’t die of starvation.’
‘No, you’d get fed up and complain and then get your food.’
‘No I wouldn’t - listen I still haven’t had chance to look at the menu yet- I wouldn’t complain.’
‘You would.’
Jesus Christ she invites her out to argue with her. What is with that? She’ll give as good as she gets, she’s Santana Lopez. Santana scans the menu briefly, snaps her fingers and orders, leaving Brittany stumbling to find a meal and settling with the same.
‘I wasn’t ready.’
‘Weren’t you?’
‘No’
‘I think you were.’
‘No I wasn’t’
‘Yeah you were.’
‘You can’t know that.’
‘You can’t know I’d moan if he was taking too long.’
Eurgh. Brittany had forgotten how stubborn Santana could be. She’s not going to sit and argue with her though; she’ll just rise above it. She came here to fix things, not make them worse.
‘Sorry.’
‘For what?’
‘For assuming you’d moan.’
‘That’s ok. Sorry for making you order before you were ready. If you want to change I’ll go find the waiter?’
‘No it’s cool.’
They sit in silence for a little while, sipping their waters and avoiding eye contact, or sneaking glances at the other when they weren’t looking.
‘Santana, I’m sorry for what I said the other day.’
‘It’s ok.’
‘No it’s not, I’m not sure why I got so angry and snapped.’
‘No really it’s fine. Maybe I kind of needed to hear it. And I’m sorry for saying those things back.’ (She’s not sorry at all, not really, but out of politeness Santana thinks she ought to apologise.)
‘Thanks for being polite, but you’re not sorry, and you shouldn’t have to be. I’ve got some things to be sorry for.’ Brittany avoids eye contact and her tone quietens, Santana can feel the awkwardness pressing down on them, and her vision is dimming a little. It might not be the best place or time for this.
‘You don’t have to do this.’
‘Yes I do. I’m sorry about the wedding day, for what happened in the bathroom. I didn’t expect it. It shook me and I ran away, and I’m sorry.’
Santana’s surveying Brittany. She’s a little fidgety, a little flushed, the tips of her ears going that delightful tinge of pink she gets when she’s embarrassed. Santana doesn’t quite get all the awkwardness and avoidance; sure there should be some, but this much?! They’ve skirted around that day enough, and been in each other’s company enough, for this to not be so awkward, it’s like a necessary thing or something. Say it and move on. Brittany must have been planning this so she should be coping way better than she is. Plus now she’s sucking in her lips, something she only does when she’s thinking extra carefully, or lying. Brittany looks up from fiddling with her cutlery and makes eye contact with Santana, immediately jolting her (damn those blue eyes should come with some kind of health warning), and flashing them away just as quickly, coughing a little and taking a sip of water.
‘Thank you. For the apology. What happened, I still don’t understand it. I know this might be inappropriate or whatever, but it felt like you wanted me. And for you to want me on your wedding day? I understand it shook you.’
‘I, er. I didn’t, erm - ah thank you! This looks really good! Doesn’t it look tasty, Santana?’
Santana’s eyes glint. ‘Yeah it does, it was a little slow coming though.’