A/N: This song came up on shuffle the other day and this little idea popped into my head. I used it as motivation to get the writing for my other Brittana story "To Find a Home" done, I wouldn't let myself do this until I had another chapter posted.
This is canon up until episode 6 of season 3, "The Mash Off." This is my version of what Brittany could've done to reassure Santana at another joint Glee Club meeting, after the whole "slapping Finn and being outed soon" incident. Hope you enjoy!
**I own nothing, not Glee, not any of these characters, and not the song "Stubborn Love," by the Lumineers. Consider this disclaimed.
...
Santana was furious. No, that was an understatement. She was livid. Furious. Irate. All those other ACT words she had to know. God, she'd never been so goddamn pissed. And now she was sitting in another joint Glee Club practice, and Brittany wasn't even here to take the edge off.
She wasn't just mad of course, she was terrified too, but she couldn't let anyone else know that. Damn Hudson, this was her life he was fucking with. She may not always have had the nicest things to say, but nothing she said was going to affect his reputation, his life. He wasn't about to be outed to the entire fucking state.
She felt an almost imperceptible shift in the room, and she looked up, knowing Brittany had just walked in. She didn't know how she knew, it was just something they could always do, sense proximity, ever since they were little. It was like two magnets, the closer together they were, the stronger the pull.
Brittany didn't even glance her way, though. She just walked straight over to Ms. Corcoran and Mr. Schuester and started talking quietly to them. She looked a little nervous, but they both smiled and started nodding. She walked over to the piano and handed Brad some sheet music.
Mr. Schue walked into the middle of the room and everyone quieted down, as Brittany dragged a stool over behind him so she could sit near the piano.
"Ok, everyone, Brittany has something she'd like to share with all of us. Brittany?"
Santana could see her take a shaky breath as Mr. Schue sat down.
"Ok. Well, um, this doesn't exactly fit with the mash-up assignment, but I figured that would be ok since we did it yesterday. This is a song for someone that's really special to me. She can be super stubborn sometimes, but I know she can't always be strong by herself, and I wanted her to know that even though sometimes she hurts the people she cares about, even when she doesn't mean to, it's gonna be ok. I wrote it myself, it's not quite as good as 'My Cup,' but it means a lot to me. It's called, "Stubborn Love." I know I usually don't sing, but there are some things that I really just can't say any other way."
Blue eyes meet brown as the first piano chord rings out. The tune is familiar, but Santana can't quite place it.
She'll lie and steal and cheat,
And beg you from her knees,
Make you think she means it this time.
She'll tear a hole in you,
The one you can't repair,
But I still love her, I don't really care.
Santana could practically see the memories that were playing through Brittany's head with the song. Images of herself showing up on her doorstep, begging her to tell her she still loved her after a night at Puck's, promising she'd never do it again. Images of herself flying off the handle in a panic, insisting she's not gay, blaming Brittany for everything. The pain in those blue eyes.
When we were young, oh, oh,
We did enough,
When it got cold, ooo, ooo,
We bundled up,
I can't be told, ah, ah,
It can't be done.
It's better to feel pain,
Then nothing at all,
The opposite of love's indifference,
So pay attention now,
I'm standing on your porch, screaming out,
And I won't leave until you come downstairs.
The night of their first time. She'd run out, ran home. Brittany followed after her and thrown rocks at her window for an hour, and then proceeded to sit on her porch for three more, until Santana's mom finally forced her to go down and "figure it out."
So keep your head up, keep your love,
Keep your head up, my love,
Keep your head up, my love,
Keep your head up, keep your love.
And I don't blame you, dear,
For running like you did, all these years,
I would do the same, you best believe.
And the highway signs say we're close,
But I don't read those things anymore,
I never trusted my own eyes.
She knew where she recognized the tune from now. She had heard Brittany fiddling with it on her piano a few weeks ago when she had arrived at her house on a Friday night. Most people didn't know Britt had taken piano lessons when she was little, but she liked to keep practicing, even if she wasn't taking the anymore. Even Santana didn't know she wrote music, though.
When we were young, oh, oh,
We did enough,
When it got cold, ooo, ooo,
We bundled up,
I can't be told, ah, ah,
It can't be done.
So keep your head up, keep your love,
Keep your head up, my love,
Keep your head up, my love,
Keep your head up, keep your love.
Head up, love
Head up, love
Head up, love.
As her alto voice trembled out the last notes, Brittany hopped off her stool, walked directly over to Santana, and sat down. The entire room was dead silent, stunned.
Mr. Schuester was the first to speak.
"Brittany, that was beautiful. I had no idea you could write songs like that."
"Thanks," Brittany muttered, fiddling with her and Santana's hands in her lap.
Santana tilted Brittany's chin up and locked her dark eyes with cerulean ones, shining with unshed tears. If she could have this girl by her side, through all this, she would be fine. This beautiful, bright, strong, wonderful, angelic girl, could make the enormous mess that was her life, ok with a single song. She pressed their lips together gently, knowing all eyes in the rooms were on them. It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Pulling back slightly, she whispered, "I love you."
