A/N: First Brittana fic, first Glee fic. Follows canon, but I did change it around somewhat, so don't be surprised if it doesn't exactly follow Glee. The title's from the song "Swan" by Unkle Bob. Summary is from "Off I Go" by Greg Laswell. Reviews appreciated, as always.
Warnings: Mentions of underage sex, underage drinking, cursing.
Santana is five.
It's recess at school and she's sitting on a bench, watching the other kids play. Her mother bought her a new dress and told her not to get it dirty so she's being very careful, she doesn't want her mom to get mad at her.
Out of the corner of her eye she sees one of the bigger boys in her class push a girl away from the ladder that leads to the slide. Santana walks over to them.
"Leave her alone, you big jerk," she spits out, hands on her hips.
"Or what?" he asks, shoving her down "You're just a girl, you can't do anything."
Santana gets up, narrows her eyes, and kicks him straight in the shin. He howls, doubling over and she smiles in satisfaction.
She looks down at the girl on the ground. She's wearing a sparkly shirt and her hair is golden, like Cinderella's.
"You got your dress dirty," she says from the ground.
Santana looks down, her flowery white dress has smudges of dirt across the bottom. "It's okay," she offers her hand to the girl and helps her get up. "I'm Santana."
"I'm Brittany."
...
Santana is seven.
She invites Brittany over for a tea party. Its summer break and they're always at each other's houses and sometimes they even sleep over.
Before long their tea sets are forgotten and they decide to act out Sleeping Beauty instead. Santana's fighting a ferocious dragon (a stuffed monkey sitting on top of her bed) when Brittany declares they have to get married.
Santana doesn't question it; she never questions anything Brittany wants to do. "How do we get married?"
"I know how," Brittany walks over to her and holds both of her hands, "Okay now close your eyes." Santana closes her eyes, peaking slightly with her right, and sees Brittany's doing the same. After a few seconds Brittany exclaims, "Okay now open your eyes, we're married!"
"That's it? Are you sure that's how we get married?"
"Yes, I saw it on TV," Brittany says confidently. "Now I can be Prince and you can be the Princess and we can rule over the kingdom!" Santana likes the sound of that.
Later on Brittany goes home and Santana eats dinner happily with her parents, looking forward to the next day.
"Daddy, guess what?" Santana says, beaming.
"What is it honey?" her father answers, one eye on his dinner, and the other on some papers. Her father's always working.
"Me and Brittany got married today and we're going to rule over the WHOLE kingdom!"
Her father looks up, "You can't get married, you're both girls. You need a Prince to marry."
Santana's face falls, she looks down at the mushy peas on her plate, scrunches her brows up tight and whispers-
"But Brittany is my Prince."
...
Santana is fourteen.
She's doing her homework when her cell phone buzzes, it's a text from Brittany.
" Need u, come over."
Santana takes one look at the message and pushes her papers aside, math equations forgotten. Brittany needs her. She grabs her key (because her parents aren't home, once again) and runs out of her house. The air is thick with humidity and Santana's feet hurt in the flip flops she's running in, but she doesn't really care, the distance to Brittany's house is short- not that it would really matter.
When she finally gets there, Santana knocks on the door so hard it hurts her knuckles. She can hear Brittany's footsteps thudding to the door, sees it burst open, and Brittany flies into her arms, sobbing on her shoulder.
"Brit, Brit baby what's wrong?" Santana's arms go around Brittany automatically and she lifts one hand to stroke the back of her head. Brittany's inconsolable, crying and babbling into Santana's ear and she realizes she has to take control.
"Hey, listen to me B- listen to me," Santana pulls back, keeping a firm hold on Brittany's shoulders, "Let's just go inside, go upstairs to your room, and you can tell me exactly what happened okay? Can you do that for me Brit?"
She nods, sniffling. and they both head inside and upstairs to her room, shutting the door behind them. Brittany sits down on her bed, hugging an overstuffed pillow to her chest. Santana sits down beside her and waits for her patiently to start.
"You know how I told you I was going to ask Ben Froher to the 8th grade formal?" Santana nods, Brittany had been nursing a crush on him all year, "Well I did it, I asked him."
"And what'd he say? No?"
"Yeah…he said no," She looks down, biting her lip and Santana knows that's not it.
"What else B? What'd he say to make you so upset?"
"I asked him why he couldn't go with me. He…he said he could never go out with a girl that was so stupid." Brittany closes her eyes, tears running down her face, and all Santana can see is red.
"That little piece of…UGH," Santana got up and started pacing around the room, anger coursing through her, "Don't listen to him Brittany. He's the dumb one to ever say something like that to you."
Brittany looks up, shrugging. "But he's right, I am dumb. Everyone thinks so."
"Everyone sucks. They don't know you Brit. You might not be the typical kind of smart, but you're smart in other ways, in better ways. Don't you ever let anyone make you think you're stupid."
"You've called me stupid before too, though."
"And I was wrong." Santana walks to the bed and sits back down, one hand squeezing Brittany's knee gently, "I only said it because I was angry and I didn't mean it. You know that." Santana had the best way of saying whatever hurt people the most when she was mad. Usually it was a good thing, but when it came to Brittany, she didn't regret anything more.
"I know."
"Good, so you don't ever let anyone call you stupid alright? Even me. ESPECIALLY me. Got it?"
"Yeah I do," Brittany whispers softly, "Thanks Santana, you always know what to say."
"That's what I'm here for Brit," Santana responded, putting an arm around Brittany who in turn laid her head down on her shoulder.
Santana knows it won't last long, but in that moment everything feels right.
...
Santana is fifteen.
She's sitting down on her couch, flipping through channels with her mother. This isn't a usual thing; her mother's usually too busy to watch TV, especially with her. It's Saturday and there isn't really much on so she settles on an old rerun of Will & Grace.
"You like this show?" Santana goes rigid; she can hear the disapproval in her voice.
"It's alright," Santana shrugs, trying to look disinterested, "Makes me laugh."
"Well it doesn't make me laugh," her mother says curtly, "It's disgusting how they parade their…sins around like this. It's an abomination. These kinds of people go directly to hell, you know that right, Santana?
Santana clenches her fists so hard she can feel her nails biting into her palm, but she still manages to choke out a quiet, "Yes."
She changes the channel to the news and silence falls between them once again. Santana can feel it building in her chest, anger and shame and sadness- so much fucking sadness that she can't handle sitting next to her mother anymore, can't handle sitting on their pristine, white couch, in their giant, empty home, next to her mother who would fucking hate her if she knew.
If she knew what?
Santana can't let herself even think it. Instead she tells her mother she has homework still left to do and bolts upstairs to her room. Santana can feel the tears pooling in her eyes and her heart is breaking with every step and she doesn't know why (but she does, and that's the worst part).
When she finally gets to her room she opens the door and slam it shut behind her, grabbing her phone off of her bed. She's crying so hard she has to dial Brittany's number three times before she gets it right. It rings a few times and then Brittany's cheery voice fills her ears, "Hi Santana!"
"Brittany," Santana says except it comes out more like a sob and then Brittany goes quiet.
"Don't cry Santana, I love you," and she says it so earnestly it makes Santana cry ever harder. After that Brittany doesn't say anything, but Santana doesn't really need her to. She falls asleep with the phone still pressed to her ear.
The next week Santana and Brittany go to their first big high school party.
Santana gets drunk off of rum and coke and has sex for the first time with a junior in a back room while the party's still going on. His fingers are rough and he comes in ten minutes, collapsing next to her. Santana lies there afterward and thinks-
It didn't really feel like anything at all.
...
Santana is seventeen
She's rich, she's popular, she's feared- she's everything she ever wanted to be (except not really). Santana knows what kind of reputation she has, she knows what people say behind her back, but she doesn't care. They can call her a slut, or a whore, tell her she's easier than a first grade math test, but it doesn't matter because Santana knows there are worse things to be called (dyke). And no matter what people whispered to each other when they thought she wasn't listening, they were still scared of her, hell they fucking parted when she walked down the hallway.
Sometimes Santana wonders if it would be easier to be nicer to people. But the thought is quickly chased away anytime she sees Kurt Hummel being thrown into a trashcan. None of these people can know who she really is so she locks that part of herself up and throws away the key. She sleeps with half the guys in school and pretends she loves it and she has sex with Brittany and pretends it doesn't make her feel alive. And it all works out.
Until Brittany asks to duet with her and everything comes crashing down.
They were making out in Brittany's bed and Santana felt good. No, she felt great, everything was great and then Brittany was asking her if she wanted to do a Melissa Etheridge song together. Santana eyes widened in alarm, her walls snapping up so fast she almost got metaphorical whip lash. The next thing she knew she was snapping at Brittany, telling her this was just sex, that she wasn't in love with her (when did she gets so good at lying?).
Santana was a coward and she knew it. She saw the hurt written all over Brittany's face when she performed with Mercedes, but she was too terrified to do anything about it, to fix it. So she let it go, figured Brittany would forgive her, she always did. Even the time Santana called her stupid- it took a lot of apologizing, a trip to Breadstix, and some ice cream, but Brittany had forgiven her.
This time was different.
It was like Brittany was disappointed with her, like she had lost faith in her. Even when they started talking again it just wasn't the same. Santana though maybe they needed more time before they went back to normal, but then Brittany started to date Artie and everything changed. She looked happy with him, she looked like she was falling in love, and Santana couldn't stand it. Couldn't stand watching her best friend (her best everything) fall in love with someone else, couldn't stand that she was unwilling to do anything about it. So she did what she always did best, she shut down. Brittany noticed, she noticed the unreturned phone calls, noticed how Santana would come around to her house less, but she didn't say anything.
Things remained strained between them until Sectionals. Santana didn't expect it to happen, but as soon as the first beats of Valerie began and she felt Brittany's touch on her back, it was like everything that had happened between them in the last few months disappeared. All the things Santana couldn't say to Brittany she sang and all the things Brittany wouldn't say to Santana she danced. It was perfect and beautiful, it was them, together. Afterwards Santana found Brittany in the bathroom and ran to her, swinging her around.
"You were great,B!"
"So were you," Brittany said, smiling widely.
Santana stepped back from their hug and looked at her, her hair was mussed, her makeup smeared from sweat- Santana thought she had never looked more beautiful. And she knew.
She was in love with Brittany.
Weeks went by after Sectionals and Santana still couldn't wrap her head around it. She was IN LOVE with Brittany. She didn't want it to be true, she didn't want to deal with what it meant for her, so she tried to ignore it. But Brittany, as always, picked up on it, and Santana discovered she wanted to tell Brittany, she just didn't know how. So they went to Ms. Holiday.
As soon as Ms. Holiday suggested a song, Santana only wanted to sing one. Landslide.
When they sat in front of the Glee club and the first strums of the guitar reached Santana's ears, she was relieved she had asked Ms. Holiday to take the lead on the song. She could barely get through her own verse without crying and by the end of the song, she was a mess. It was like the song gave her new confidence because she didn't care, didn't care that the whole glee club saw her crying, she didn't care that everyone watched her as she got up and hugged Brittany, squeezing her like she never wanted to let go. She didn't care.
That is until Rachel opened her big, fat mouth and complimented her on singing a song with such "sapphic charm," with Brittany.
"Look," Santana said, steel in her voice, "just because I sang a song with Brittany doesn't mean you can put a label on me." Rachel looked confused and that made Santana even madder, mad at Rachel for saying anything, mad at herself for being so defensive about it.
After that Santana almost didn't tell Brittany she loved her. Almost. She spent the day at school going back and forth with herself, but one passing glance at Artie and Brittany eating together happily during lunch and Santana knew she had to say something. She couldn't keep something like this bottled up any longer.
"Hi," Santana approached Brittany, stopping at her locker, "can we talk?"
The words she's locked away in that secret part of herself spilled out of her. She tells Brittany everything, about why she's so angry, about all of her feelings, about her fear of dealing with the consequences, of the talk. She tells Brittany she loves her.
Santana can hear herself pleading.
"Please, please say you love me back."
"I do," Brittany says and Santana knew something was wrong, she could hear it in her voice, "and I would totally be with you if it wasn't for Artie."
"Artie? He's just a stupid boy!"
There was a deafening roar in Santana's ears as Brittany told her that she loved Artie too, that she couldn't just leave him. Grief clawed at Santana's throat and all she could manage out of her mouth was a choked, "don't," as she pushed Brittany away, running down the hallway and out of the school, trying to get as far away from Brittany as possible.
She got in her car and broke down, sobbing harder than she ever had before, harder than she thought possible. Santana thought she had felt hurt before, but it wasn't anything like this. She slammed her fist against the dashboard, pain blossoming in her hand, but Santana welcomed it. She sat in her car and cried for what seemed like hours before she finally raised her head off of her steering wheel and drove home.
Later, when she entered her house, Santana slowly climbed the stairs to her room. When she got inside, she went and stood in front of her mirror and stared at herself. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, her eye makeup smudged. She looked at herself long and hard.
"I'm a lesbian," she whispered to her reflection, "I'm a lesbian."
And she knew it was true.
...
Santana is eighteen.
She's cutting class, because whatever it's fucking gym and it's March so it doesn't really matter. She needed some time to think.
A lot had changed since last year.
She hadn't been a cheerio in the longest time.
New Directions had won Nationals, improving their popularity in school vastly.
She had come out to her parents.
It wasn't easy and she tried to talk herself out of it a million times (and almost succeeded), but Santana found that once she stopped lying to herself it became harder to lie to other people.
"Mom, dad, I have to talk to you," Santana said, approaching both of her parents. I t was rare they were both home at the same time and Santana knew she had to take the chance and tell them now, before it was too late.
"What is it Santana?" Her mother didn't even raise her head from the paperwork she was doing. "You can see we're busy."
"Yes, I know," Santana hesitated before speaking again, "But this is important."
Both her parents lifted their heads up and looked at her waiting.
"Well get on with it Santana," her father said, "What is it? Did you get in trouble at school again?"
"No, nothing like that." Santana breathed in deep and let it out slow. "Mom, dad, I…I'm () gay."
Santana closed her eyes to try and block out the looks on her parents faces, but she could hear her father's shock in his gasp, could feel her mother's anger in the way she scraped back her chair.
"What did you just say Santana?" Her mother's voice sounded like it could cut glass.
"I said I'm gay, Mom."
"No, no you're not. NO DAUGHTER OF MINE IS GOING TO BE GAY, YOU HEAR ME?"
Santana backed up. Even though she had prepared herself for this, she was still caught off guard by the venom in her mother's voice. She looked at her father, who was silent. She wished he would say something, anything.
"WHAT IS THIS? IS THIS SOMETHING THEY TEACH YOU AT THAT SCHOOL OF YOURS? DO THEY TEACH YOU TO SIN LIKE THIS? SANTANA, ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?"
"I'm listening to you, mom. I am." But Santana wished she wasn't, she wished she could be anywhere but here. "It's not something I learned in school, I've always been like this. I've always been ga-"
"DON'T YOU DARE SAY THAT WORD IN MY HOUSE."
"Gay. I'm gay mom, I always have been." Santana finished, looking at her mom. Her mom, who she had always tried to please, and after tonight, never would.
Her mother, dumbstruck for a moment by Santana's bluntness, just stood there, staring at her. Her father still hadn't said a word. They all stood there, father, daughter, mother- family, bonded by blood.
And then the bond broke.
"GET OUT," her mother grabbed her arm in a vice like grip and Santana couldn't hold it back anymore, she started crying, "GET OUT OF MY HOUSE, YOU DISGUSTING FILTH." She started dragging her to the door.
"CARMEN," her father finally spoke, "You can't do this. You can't throw her out."
Santana's mother turned to him, fury lacing her words like poison, "WHY NOT? CARLOS ARE YOU HEARING THIS? ARE YOU HEARING THE WORDS FROM YOUR DAUGHTER'S MOUTH?"
"I heard them," he said calmly, "And we still can't throw her out. She's our dau-"
Santana looked at him, surprised. Was he going to defend her? But the look she saw in his eyes wasn't acceptance, it was disgust. She turned away.
"She's our daughter so we can't throw her out. Carmen, think of what people will say. We worked so hard to build our reputation here."
Santana's mother faltered. She looked at Santana's father long and hard. Neither of them said anything. Then finally, Santana's mother let go of her arm.
"She can stay, but I want her out of my sight, you understand me?" Her words were so cold and unfeeling Santana almost wished she had just thrown her out.
"Go to your room Santana."
"But dad-" Santana's words died in her throat. Help me, she wanted to say. Tell me you'll love me no matter what.
Instead he set his mouth in a firm line and repeated himself, "I said, go to your room. I won't ask you again."
So Santana stayed, but the tension between her and parents didn't get any better. Instead they barely talked to her when she was home and spent even longer hours away at work. It hurt, to see her parents distance themselves from her, but Santana was used to being alone and coming out to them had lifted a weight off her shoulders, one that she had been carrying for years.
And so here she was, approaching the end of her senior year, more changed than she ever thought she could be. Life wasn't easier either after she came out to the whole school. She got slushied a lot more, she got pushed around (and she pushed back), she got called a dyke more times than she could count (and that hurt the most), but it was worth it, it was worth not having to pretend anymore. Santana felt like she was living life for the first time instead of just going through the motions.
So engrossed was she in her thoughts that Santana almost didn't notice Brittany sitting on the grounds outside the school, crying. Santana was rushing over before she could even think about it. Things hadn't been the same between them since Brittany had rejected her, but they were still friends and Santana would always be there for her.
"Brittany," Santana said, kneeling down the grass in front of her, "What's wrong? What happened?"
Brittany sniffed loudly and buried her face in her hands. Santana strained her ears and heard a muffled- "Artie."
Artie. Santana's blood boiled. "What'd he do?" Santana asked furiously, "Did he break up with you? That little bas- I'm gonna kick his ass." Santana made a motion to get up.
"Santana, no!" Brittany cried out, "I broke up with him." Santana sat back in shock, "You…you broke up with Artie? Why?"
"I don't know, it just wasn't working. He didn't make me feel like there were butterflies in my heart."
"Butterflies in your heart…OH." Santana realized that Brittany was saying she didn't love him in her own way.
"So wait, if you broke up with Artie, why are you crying? Do you regret it?" Santana bit her lip hard, not sure whether she wanted the answer.
"No, no" Brittany shook her head, "'It's just that I hurt him. And I never wanted to that! Santana he looked so sad, like I just kicked him in his wheel."
"Oh Brittany, baby, listen to me," Santana lifted her hand to wipe away the tears coursing down Brittany's face, "You did the right thing. You did hurt Artie, but it's better than continuing to be in a relationship with him where you're only half there."
"What do you mean I'd only be half there?" Brittany whipped her head up, looking alarmed. "Is there another part of me out there? Did I lose it?"
"No," Santana shook her head, "I mean you'd only be half there in here." Santana laid her hand on Brittany's chest, right over her heart.
"Oh." Brittany looked down and for a minute Santana thought she she'd start crying again but she only sniffed and when she looked back up she seemed calmer, like she understood.
"Do you think he'll forgive me?"
"Yeah, I do. It'll take time, but I think eventually he'll forgive you."
"Okay," Brittany said and then they both fell silent.
Santana had almost forgotten that her hand was still on Brittany's chest until she felt Brittany covering it with her own.
"You got dirt on your dress," Brittany said softly and Santana felt like her heart was going to burst out of her chest with joy. With love. She could feel it seeping it out of her, out of all the cracks she tried so hard to seal up once.
"It's okay," she whispered. Santana felt the warm breeze on her face, felt Brittany's hand on top of hers, felt her heartbeat underneath her fingers, and she knew for the first time…
it really was.
...
Santana is nineteen.
She knows many things.
She knows she's gay and she's finally accepted it.
She knows she's a bitch, but she's working on that.
She knows her parents can't love her like she loves them and it kills her, but she can't change that.
She knows she holds Brittany's heart because no one else knows how to tickle her in just the right spot so she'll laugh for fifteen minutes straight.
She knows all of these things and she knows she's happy, and even though it took her forever, she knows now, that this, being herself, being warm and comfortable and loved, being happy-
that's all that really matters.
End.