Proudly So

~o~

Brittany spent a lot of the day confused.

Sometimes she skipped breakfast altogether in order to avoid the illogical dilemma of sweet versus salty. She sat through hours of classes that didn't make a whole lot of sense, and so she retreated into the safe harbour of her daydreams, often drifting straight through the bell, roused only when a passing student would knock her elbow off the desk in their rush. She listened to the debates in Glee Club with a detached interest, chiming in occasionally only to receive amused or incredulous looks back. Mostly she let the fights and arguments go over her head, by choice more often than not. Brittany liked being in New Directions; it was fun and it made her feel happy and content in a way not even the Cheerios had quite managed to do. She liked to sing, she loved to dance, and so she endured the drama and perennial heartache of her fellow members because they always ended on a song and it always meant something.

Artie had confused her at first. She hadn't understood why he couldn't get better and why he was okay with that. She hadn't understood why it hurt so much when he had broken up with her. She hadn't understood their fight at Sectionals or why his simple faith in her had brought out a strength and courage she hadn't known she possessed.

The confusion had finally found a name. Love. And it was something strange and new and exciting in her world, something that infused each easy touch with a warmth she had never felt before, something that wasn't just physical anymore. And it felt nice.

But love could hurt just as deeply as it could elate. Love could pull you in two different directions, ask questions you didn't know how to answer, consume your thoughts without permission. Love could make things painfully complicated.

Things with Santana had never been complicated. The lines were very clear. She hadn't allowed them to tangle their physicality with words or feelings, with doubts or acknowledgment. She refused to be branded with labels, tainted by vulnerability. They both knew the rules and had lived by them without comment or complaint for a long time. And it had worked for them, more or less.

But the confusion had come creeping back once again, blurring the boundaries and breaking down the walls, growing stronger and more persistent as time passed on. This confusion was different. It was frustrating, strange and upsetting. Shy with fear yet bold with longing.

And so at last she had asked the question, tested the waters, edged cautiously past the confines of their unspoken relationship. She needed something more, they deserved something better. Brittany was desperate to understand, just for once; nothing had ever felt so important. But more than that – she just wanted Santana to try.

She had never meant to hurt her.

The song had told their story, spoken the words that she could never find and Santana had always caged. Brittany had held her eyes the whole way through, a soft smile on her lips and quiet ache in her chest as she watched her lover and best friend brush away the silent tears but not hide them. A swell of tender pride warmed her heart, unbidden and almost overwhelming. She had never looked so beautiful.

Just as Brittany would always cherish that perfect moment, she would forever regret the untimely circumstances of their conversation by her locker. She had never felt so joyful and so wretched at the same time, trapped by her own words and the burden of understanding. She wasn't lying: she loved Artie. But she loved Santana too; she always had. Her heart soared at the honest emotions laid at her feet, the confirmation of everything she had been wanting for so long without even realising it, only for it to crumple a moment later under the weight of conflicted loyalties.

She'd reached out, tried to make her understand with the same heartfelt sincerity she had just given her, but Santana had recoiled away, wrenching herself out of her embrace even as the tears flowed down her cheeks. Brittany could almost see the girl she loved retreating back into those hard shells of anger and attitude, and the guilt burned in the back of her throat, salt stinging her eyes. She had to understand, she had to see why she was doing this. She wasn't afraid for them; she didn't care about gossip or reputation the way Santana did, none of that mattered to her. Brittany meant every word, a hundred times over: she would be with her, she would be hers, if only…But she couldn't do that to Artie. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. None of this was fair.

The look on Santana's face had haunted her for weeks, the accusation and pain in her words hurting somewhere deep in her gut, cramping her stomach with an ache that wouldn't go away and stubbornly refused to diminish. It didn't take long for Artie to notice her distance and distraction, the sad shadow to her eyes and the subdued note in her laughter. The confrontation had been rough on them both. She'd tried to avoid him, tried to talk herself around, but he knew all her hiding places and when the questions finally came, she didn't have the will or wish to lie to him. He deserved the truth. They all did.

The clatter of chairs sounded the end of rehearsal, snapping her from her wandering daydream and causing her to frown as she tried to recall the last thing she remembered Mr Schue telling them. Something about Coach Sylvester and Aural Intensity… Oh well. With a shrug, the former cheerleader abandoned the half-hearted train of thought and leant down to retrieve her rucksack from under her seat. Her gaze strayed to the far chair of the row in front of her, where another figure also lingered in the emptying choir room.

Sleek black hair tumbled over the curves of her shoulders as she stood up and gathered her things, unusually quiet and eyes averted. Brittany hesitated, wanting to speak but not finding any words to fill the uncomfortable silence that had been stretching between them for so long. They'd not had a proper conversation since that day, trading only passing comments or loaded looks, and Brittany had found herself missing her best friend and all her barbed snipes, catty quips and hot temper almost more than she could stand. Her days were so long and boring and…lonely without them.

The words from that last fateful conversation filtered back through her mind. A small smile curved her lips as a delayed revelation abruptly came to her. And just like that, Brittany wasn't confused anymore. She'd been right all along.

She was hers. Completely.

Her gaze flickered up once more. She could still feel the ever present chill that seemed to surround her these days, a wary distance that dissuaded any attempt at contact. Even more so than usual. Yet the ex-Cheerio still stepped down quietly, picking her way between the chairs until she could move next to her.

Santana stiffened but otherwise didn't acknowledge her presence, slipping her jacket on and picking up her bag in silence. However before she could toss her hair over her shoulder and stride off in her usual manner, she was suddenly distracted by the familiar warmth of a delicate hand slipping gently into hers.

Dark, exotic eyes met smiling, dancing blue.

That same beautiful smile flowed into her voice, into the single word that murmured against her ear, a kept promise.

"Yours."

Santana said nothing in response, only held her gaze searchingly, the corners of her lips creeping up in private emotions that were only accessible to one person. Yet, as Brittany felt her girlfriend entwine their fingers tightly and squeeze her hand firmly, she knew that as long as they held onto that, they would face whatever the hallways outside this room had to throw at them.

When Brittany gave her heart, she gave it all, and she gave it with pride.

~o~

AN This is my first time ever attempting to write Brittany and Santana – so please be gentle! I have to say that I found their storyline in 'Sexy' really touching and their final scene together was so moving and poignant. It moved my muse too! Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed. Reviews make my days :)