Title: Passing Afternoon
Pairing: Santana/Brittany
Rating: R (Santana's mouth, y'know?)
Summary: "A baby sleeps in all our bones, so scared to be alone." Sometimes it takes a tragedy to make you realize what matters.
Spoilers: Up to "Nationals" 2x22.
Author's Note: Song is "Passing Afternoon" by Iron & Wine
I. There are times that walk from you, like some passing afternoon.
Santana Lopez was, admittedly, a lot of things. A bitch. A master manipulator. An amazing singer. And a damn good cheerleader. Well, formerly. But one thing she was not, was a coward. So why was she so afraid?
Hugging Brittany in the hallway after returning home from Nationals felt like a lead weight had been dropped into her gut. She should be kissing her. She should be kissing her and referring to her as her girlfriend and going home to have amazing sex like they used to. But instead she was hugging her.
Stupid. So fucking stupid.
Why was she so afraid? The slushies, the bullying, it would all be worth it if she had Brittany on her arm, right?
But what if.
What if it was too much for Brittany? What if she backed out and went running back to Artie. To safe. To reliable. To normal. What if she left Santana stranded on her own in front of the crowd. Like those stupid dreams where she shows up to school naked and everyone laughs at her.
Brittany wouldn't do that.
So why couldn't Santana stop worrying?
She couldn't stop worrying because Brittany was all she had. Brittany and her mother and her father. The only three people she could count on. If she lost Brittany, well, that just left her parents. And there was only so much they could do.
She needed Brittany. She needed Brittany more than she was willing to admit.
She'd have some time to think this weekend. Brittany was going to her Aunt and Uncle's house in Cincinnati right after school and wouldn't be back until Sunday. She'd use that time to clear her head.
God, she was a coward. Santana Lopez was a coward.
And she was running out of time.
II. And she chose a yard to burn, but the ground remembers her.
She knew something was wrong the minute the doorbell rang.
Her fears were only confirmed when her mother called her into the foyer, revealing a Marine in full dress uniform.
"Mom what's going on?" She asked.
"Are you Master Gunnery Sergeant David Lopez's daughter, Santana Lopez?" the Marine asked her softly.
"Yes, sir."
"Ma'am may I come in?" He asked, turning towards her mother.
"Yes, sir." Her mother led them both into the living room. She sat with her mother on the couch, while the Marine took a seat in a nearby recliner.
"Ma'am, the Commandant of the Marine Corps has entrusted me to express
His deep regret that your husband and father, David Cristiano Lopez was killed in action in
Afghanistan last night. A hostile terrorist infiltrated the base in which he was stationed and attempted to set off a bomb. Your husband and father proceeded to take down the man and took the full force of the bomb. He protected his entire platoon. He was a hero. The Commandant extends his deepest sympathy to you and your family in your loss."
It was too hot. It was too hot in that room and Santana was suffocating. She was vaguely aware of her mother crying. The Marine was saying something else but she couldn't hear him. It felt like she had cotton in both her ears.
Her whole body was numb.
Her father. Her indestructible father, the man who had her eyes and her smile. The man who taught her how to hit a baseball farther than any of the boys and how to throw a perfect spiral with a football. The man who made the best chili she had ever tasted and who always seemed to know just what to say to make her feel better, was gone.
Gone.
She bolted.
III. There are things that drift away, like our endless numbered days.
It was just past midnight, and Santana hadn't moved from her bed.
Her mother had come up to sit with her twice, but each time neither had been able to speak. So she had settled on her side and watched the numbers on her alarm clock change.
12:07
She didn't know how to process this. She didn't even know where to begin. She had never dealt with death before. Somehow, her room seemed smaller. Actually, not just her room. The whole world felt smaller.
12:08
Her chest was caving in on her. Her head was swimming. Everything was upside down. Everything. She wasn't even thinking coherent thoughts anymore. Was this what drowning felt like? She was willing to bet this was what drowning felt like.
12:09
Was that a thump? Her mom probably dropped something. Her mom. Oh god. Her mom was probably heartbroken. She needed to do something. She needed to take care of her. Her parents had been married for 23 years. She could only imagine losing Brittany.
12:10
Oh god, she couldn't bear to lose Brittany. What if she lost her? What if Brittany never came back from Cincinnati? What if she died? Or what if she decided Santana was too much of a coward and she got tired of waiting for her to come around and she left? And what the hell was that noise?
12:11
She closed her eyes. This isn't real. This cannot be happening. She repeated the mantra in her head until it all blurred together.
Thisisn'trealitcan'tbehappening.
No matter how many times she thought it, nothing healed the fractures in her heart.
Suddenly she felt the bed shift and a pair of warm and strong arms wrap themselves around her body. She opened her eyes.
12:14
Brittany.
She rolled over and found Brittany lying next to her. The hood of her gray hoodie was pulled over her blonde hair and was dotted with raindrops. Her baby blue eyes were shining in the darkness.
"Hey." Santana rasped out, her voice thick and scratchy from not speaking all day.
"Hey baby." Brittany replied softly. Santana's heart constricted painfully at the term of endearment.
"How did you get here? I thought you were in Cincinnati?"
"Your mom called my mom and...we came home early. I was supposed to wait until tomorrow to come over but I couldn't."
Santana nodded and rested her head against Brittany's collarbone.
"When is the...you know."
"Sunday. His, um- his remains get in tomorrow. And, uh- and its Sunday." Santana could feel the tears threatening to spill out of her eyes. No. No she was not going to cry. Not here. Not now.
"Do you want me to go with you?" Brittany asked, her voice laced with such a powerful emotion it made Santana tremble. So much for not crying.
"Yes. Yes please."
She felt Brittany nod as she pulled her closer. Brittany pressed a soft kiss to her forehead as the tears tumbled out of her eyes.
"I love you." She whispered as quietly as she could.
"I love you too, Santana."
IV. And she's chosen to believe in the hymns her mother sings.
Arlington National Cemetery was big. Bigger than any cemetery Santana had seen in her entire life. The tiny white headstones looked like rows and rows of Chiclets sticking out of the ground. Everything was neat, everything was orderly...and yet. And yet, everything inside of her was in complete disarray.
She managed to hold herself together through the eulogy, gripping Brittany's hand like it was the only thing keeping her from floating away. And in a way, it was. It always had been. Brittany was her rock. Her foundation. The only human being other than her parents that she could rely on. But she was close to fucking that up. Too close.
She flinched at every shot fired from the three volley salute. It felt as if every bullet was striking her already damaged heart instead of empty air.
As Taps began to play, slow and solemn and beautiful, the wall she worked so hard to keep up came crashing down. She felt Brittany shift closer to her as the tears began to roll down her cheeks. She watched as all the uniformed Marines in attendance raised their hands in a final salute.
Final.
Everything was so final.
Her father had been untouchable. Completely untouchable in Santana's eyes. And now...now he was gone. And if this untouchable man was gone, what would become of her?
She watched as the Marines folded her father's flag. Each of the twelve folds took a piece of her with it. A solemn young Marine slowly walked towards her mother. Kneeling in front of her, he placed the flag in her outstretched hands. She was sobbing.
"On behalf of the President of the United States, the Commandant of the Marine Corps, and a grateful nation, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your husband's service to Country and Corps."
The young man got to his feet and gave Santana a sad smile as he walked away.
One lone solider remained guarding the casket as the people began leaving quietly.
"What's that guy doing?" Brittany whispered softly, gesturing with her head to the lone guard.
"He uh- he guards the casket until it's buried." Santana replied softy. Brittany squeezed her hand. They followed her mother and the rest of the mourners away from the gravesite. Santana turned around one last time.
"Semper Fi, daddy."
V. There are sailing ships that pass all our bodies in the grass.
Santana felt like she was on a boat.
That was the only plausible explanation for the way everything kept getting tossed around. The room spun. The floor rocked. The bed dipped and bobbed. Everything was moving in different directions at different speeds.
The only solid thing she had was Brittany's hand gripped firmly in hers.
Brittany.
She rolled over so she was half on top of the taller girl. Brittany was still awake. Her blue eyes shone through the darkness like a lighthouse beacon. Her lighthouse beacon. Guiding her back to safety. Always.
Always?
What if she lost her? What if she left? What if this whole thing was a dream and she would wake up tomorrow to a world without Brittany?
She scrambled up Brittany's body and quickly pressed her head to the blonde's chest, finding a heartbeat. Strong and bold and unwavering.
Always.
She needed always.
Brittany's hand combed through her hair before resting gently on the back of her neck.
"What's wrong?"
"I just needed to make sure you were here."
Santana hated how pitiful her voice sounded. She hated how needy and desperate and pathetic she was at this very moment. And she hated how she was on the verge of tears, yet again.
Brittany sat up suddenly. Santana pitched backward into her lap. Brittany grabbed Santana's hand and pushed it underneath her shirt and against her chest.
"Do you feel that?" Brittany asked, her voice taking on a serious tone and her eyes shining with something powerful Santana couldn't quite place.
"Yes."
And she did. She felt the pulse thrumming strong and steady underneath her fingertips.
"That belongs to you. Always."
This time, Santana didn't care that tears were cascading down her face for the thousandth time in two days. She didn't care how ragged her breathing was, or how pathetic and pitiful she looked or sounded.
She only cared about the pulse underneath her fingers beating in time with her own, matching it beat for beat like only a soulmate could.
The room was finally still.
VI. There are things we can't recall, blind as night that finds us all.
Everyone was too cheery and their voices too loud. The lights in the school were too bright. It was too hot. The rooms were too small. Everything was wrong. Everything.
'I'm so sorry Santana.'
'I'm sorry about your dad.'
'Sorry for your loss.'
'Are you okay?'
'How are you feeling?'
'Do you need a hug?'
'Do you need anything?'
She wanted to scream. She wanted to hit something, pull her hair out, break things, something. Most of all, she wanted to be left alone. She wanted the questions to stop. She hated the concern in everyone's voice. She wasn't some fragile animal who needed to be coddled. She wasn't Berry, for fuck's sake. Why didn't people understand that?
Too much.
Everything was too much.
She finally got the chance to escape to the auditorium balcony and slip off her No-Really-Everything-Is-Fine-Please-You-Don't-Have-To-Worry mask and just...be.
That is, until Quinn showed up.
"Oh god, what are you doing here." Santana groaned as Quinn took the seat next to her.
"Nice to see you too, Santana." Quinn replied, smirking.
"I'm fine. Go away."
"If you're fine, why are you camped out in the balcony?"
"I needed some space. Everyone's treating me like a fragile little egg. Like I'm-"
"Berry." Quinn cut in.
"Exactly."
"Okay. So tell me. Are you really okay?"
"Yes. God."
Quinn raised one perfectly manicured eyebrow, and before she could stop herself, everything came tumbling out.
"No. No, I'm not. I'm a mess, Quinn. A wreck. An honest-to-God fucking wreck. I'm such a fuck up." She buried her face in her hands.
"A fuck up?" Quinn echoed, confused.
"Yes." Her reply was muffled by the pressure of her hands.
"How so?"
"I just- I just am, okay?" Santana lifted her head up and met Quinn's unwavering stare.
"Does this have anything to do with Brittany?"
"NO."
Once again, Quinn raised one eyebrow and the truth spilled out.
"Yes. Jesus Christ, how do you do that?"
"It's a gift." Quinn replied with a shrug.
"It's fucking annoying is what it is." Santana counted, scuffing her toes on the floor. Quinn chuckled.
"You'll fix it." Quinn said, bumping Santana's arm briefly.
"I don't know. I don't know. I'm so scared."
"Scared of what, she's your best friend. What's going on?"
There it was. On the tip of her tongue. She almost spilled everything to her, but then the walls came back up.
"Nothing. I need to be alone right now, Q."
"Okay." Quinn got to her feet and started to walk away. Suddenly she stopped and spun back around to face Santana.
"I'll always have your back. Remember that."
And with one last pointed look, Quinn turned and left leaving Santana alone with her thoughts and fears.
"Fuck." She whispered softly.
Maybe she wasn't as alone as she thought she was.
VII. But my hands remember hers, rolling around the shaded ferns.
She tried to push everything out of her mind on the car ride home. But she couldn't.
Everything always came back to Brittany.
Her father's death blindsided her. She hadn't even gotten to tell him goodbye. The last time she saw him, hugged him and told him she loved him was Christmas. Five months. Five whole months. And now, now she wouldn't get another chance.
She couldn't let that happen with Brittany.
She couldn't let the last time she kissed her, touched her and told her she loved her be the last. She refused.
She had to do something. No, not just something. She had to come out. To admit to everyone that she was a lesbian. A girl in love with another girl.
Could she really do that?
Could she really open herself up to being an outcast for the rest of her life?
Brittany was worth it, she knew that much. But would Brittany be waiting on the other side?
She used to think the answer was yes, but when Brittany broke her heart- no, ripped her heart out and stomped on it- that fateful day at their lockers, she lost faith.
But Brittany had proven herself, hadn't she? She had been there every step of the way during her father's funeral. She hadn't run away when they had fallen back on old habits after locking themselves in the bathroom in New York in an attempt to escape Berry's incessant whining about 'lyrical storytelling.' In fact, Brittany had initiated the kiss. Brittany's hands had wandered first.
And didn't Brittany say she loved her more than anyone else in this world?
She had always been there; Santana had been the stubborn one.
Always.
There was that world again.
Brittany was her always. Brittany was her soulmate. She was just going to have to take a leap of faith.
But would she let her fear get the better of her?
The memory of Brittany's hand in hers made her believe she could so anything.
VIII. There are names across the sea; only now I do believe.
Santana never expected the answer to all her problems to be handed to her. But it was. In the form of a letter addressed to her found among her father's things.
"My Dearest Santana,
It's been awhile since my last letter, and I apologize. Things here are getting intense. But I felt the strong urge to write to you. I feel like you could use the encouragement. Your mother tells me you seem sad lately.
I just wanted to let you know that I love you. I love you my beautiful daughter, and I am so proud of you. I watched you grow up from a wobbly young toddler to a gorgeous young woman. And I am so thankful for you.
You are who God made you to be. And He does not make mistakes, querido. You are perfect. And you are loved. And so is Brittany. By myself and your mother. Always. No matter what. Please remember that.
I just wanted you to know that, Santana.
I love you and I'll be home soon.
Dad."
Everything was blurry.
Everything was blurry because she was crying.
For the first time in days the cracks in her heart didn't hurt so badly. In fact, if anything, they were mending the more she read the letter. The words acting as a healing balm for everything that had been torn apart.
She wasn't alone. She had never been alone.
"Thanks, Dad." She whispered, tracing the letters on the paper.
She had nothing to be afraid of anymore.
IX. A baby sleeps in all our bones, so scared to be alone.
Sitting impatiently in the uncomfortable plastic chairs of the choir room, Santana was beginning to second-guess herself.
What if everyone freaked out? What if Brittany got embarrassed and ran away? What if someone outside Glee Club overheard and told everyone? What if the whole school found out in under an hour? What if-
She nearly flew out of her seat and stuck to the ceiling when someone kicked the back of her chair. She spun around and saw Brittany tilting her head in concern.
'You okay?' she mouthed. Santana nodded before turning her attention back to whatever Schuester was rambling about. He needed to hurry up. If he didn't shut up soon, Santana was going to back out of her plan.
Finally, Shue's long-winded rant about something too warm and fuzzy for Santana's taste wound down. Here it was. Her big moment.
Cautiously, she raised her hand.
"Mr. Shue?"
"Yes, Santana?"
"I have- I have something I need to say."
Shuester's face visibly paled. She didn't blame him. He probably thought she was going to give some big long monologue on how much everybody sucked, but he was wrong.
"Okay. Go ahead." He prompted.
She slowly got to her feet and avoided Brittany's curious looks as she made her way to the front of the room. She locked eyes with Brad briefly and he gave her an understanding smile. For fuck's sake. How does he know everything?
Turning to face the Glee Club, she saw how everyone was looking at her. Rachel kept glancing at the door every few seconds, as if she was going to rabbit out of it at the first sign of trouble. Artie, Tina and Mercedes looked concerned. Puck and Lauren looked bored. Kurt looked slightly amused. Mike, Sam and Finn looked genuinely interested in what she had to say. Go figure. And Quinn and Brittany looked...well, she wasn't quite sure what those looks were. It was now or never.
"I- um. I have something I need to tell you all. It's pretty important, too. I haven't been myself. I've been...hiding who I am from all of you, from myself, and it's time I stopped that. I've been so scared. Of how people would look at me. How people would treat me differently. But, I'm tired. I'm tired of keeping this to myself. I'm tired of hiding. I'm tired of watching how I act and who I'm with. I'm tired of worrying. And I'm so, so tired of being scared all the time. I shouldn't have to feel this way. None of us should. And it's time I step up to the plate."
Taking a deep breath, she squeezed her eyes shut briefly and tried so hard to keep her emotions in check. With one last glance at Brittany's face, she jumped.
"I am a lesbian. I'm a lesbian. And I'm in love with Brittany. I've been in love with Brittany since like, forever. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to tell you, I just- I was so scared. I'm still so scared of being alone."
Quinn slowly rose to her feet and walked towards her. Before she even had the chance to question her, Quinn wrapped her arms around her in the strongest hug she had ever experienced.
Without missing a beat, Brittany came barreling forward and squeezed her from behind.
"I'm so proud of you." she heard Brittany whisper.
"Me too." Quinn replied.
She felt another pair of arms circle around her from the side. The blonde mop that was tickling her ear told her Sam had joined the hug fest.
"We're here for you." He said, with a smile.
She felt more weight press into her as one by one, the rest of the club joined in. Rachel and Finn and Kurt and Mike and Tina and . They all blurred together, speaking words of encouragement.
"We will always be there for you, Santana. As you know, we're all friends. And Glee is an equal opportunity club, open to members of all sexual orientation."
Berry. Of course.
"Yeah, I mean. We're a team. Of course we support you." Finn's voice sounded from somewhere close to the ceiling.
"Girl, you know we love you." she heard Mercedes say.
"You're not alone. You have all of us." Mike replied, squeezing harder.
"You're kind of stuck with us." Tina said, with a chuckle.
"Yeah, we'd be crazy to let you get away. We need that killer voice of yours." Artie joked.
"Well, technically, my vocal range is-"
"Rachel." Quinn, Brittany and Kurt interupted at the same time.
"Not now." Quinn said, shaking her head.
Santana laughed. She actually laughed. This was where she belonged. With this band of merry misfits.
One by one the group members backed away and said their goodbyes, offering more words of encouragement on their way out the door. Only Brittany remained. Her arms still wrapped securely around Santana's waist.
"Does this mean I can kiss you whenever I want?" Brittany asked, giving her a cheeky smile.
"Yes. If this means we can be together officially." Santana replied.
"It does." Brittany answered, leaning in.
Santana smiled as she felt Brittany's lips press into hers.
Finally, her world was right side up again. She wasn't floating alone in a dark abyss. She wasn't free falling. And she wasn't drowning. Instead, she was standing in the middle of the choir room kissing Brittany. Her girlfriend.
She was going to be just fine.