Santana fidgeted in her seat, anxiously clutching the bouquet of flowers in her lap as the lights dimmed and a muted hush fell across the packed auditorium. She watched out of the corner of her eye as Mr. Pierce fumbled with his digital camera and Mrs. Pierce and Brittany's sister, Emily, excitedly flipped through the show's program booklet.
"Welcome to the 2011 Summer Dance Showcase…Our talented young men and women have put in long hours to hone their dance skills and we are honored to share with you the results of their hard work and dedication…"
Santana tuned out the rest of the dance director's speech as she reached into her purse and pulled out the invitation Brittany had given her. It was strange in that the event didn't warrant a formal invite - Santana had attended every recital, twice a year, for as long as she could remember. Well, almost. She hadn't attended the previous winter recital, held the weekend before Christmas. Brittany had asked, but she declined using holiday shopping with her abuela as an excuse not to go. She couldn't; not when Artie would be there to cheer his girlfriend on.
But now Artie was ghost in their distant past and she and Brittany were…back to what they were? Non-girlfriends? Friends with benefits? There was a reason why Santana hated labels. There was a line that she, herself, danced around when it came to who she considered Brittany S. Pierce to be. She knew what Brittany wanted, but after the junior prom fiasco and their disastrous trip to New York for Nationals, she stopped pushing Santana to make that decision. For now, they had slipped back into the role perfected in years past: inseparable best friends. And best friends go to each other's dance recitals.
But this particular show was different. Brittany had signed up for two additional classes per week in preparation for her senior solo performance. And unlike the group numbers that she regularly practiced in front of Santana in her garage on the weekends, everything about this dance was a secret.
Except for one very important detail.
The invitation that Brittany slipped into her locker a week after the Nationals trip had the usual layout: event name, date, time, location and even a printed map with directions to the theater. But written below was handwritten note that Santana easily recognized as Brittany's familiar, looping cursive:
Santana, I'm dedicating my solo performance to you. I really hope you can be there. -B
There was no question whether or not Santana would attend after that. So she sat and the edge of her seat, her body tensed in anticipation as performance after performance played out on the stage before her. Every routine was perfectly choreographed and executed, which was to be expected from a dance institution that prided itself on its nationally ranked competition team. When the last group of the night, the first year tap dancers, noisily shuffled their way off the stage, the house lights brightened and Mrs. Tulane, the dance studio director walked out from the wings with a microphone in hand.
"This year's showcase soloist was chosen because of her dedication as a student, choreographer and student teacher. She has been a member of this studio since she was four years old and it has been such a joy for us to watch her grow and develop into the amazing dancer that she is today. Here to perform her own choreographed contemporary lyrical routine to Adele's "One and Only", please welcome Brittany Pierce back to the stage."
The house lights cut off completely and Santana turned to look at the Pierces, their faces bathed in the digital glow from the camera that Mr. Pierce was wielding. Emily was perched on Mrs. Pierce's lap, fidgeting in excitement. There was a long pause, as the production crew waited until the applause died down before cueing the music.
The first chords of the song's introduction rang in the large theater, and Santana was disappointed when she didn't recognize the tune. She wasn't the biggest Adele fan, but the album was relatively new and popular, and a few of the tracks regularly aired on the radio. She briefly wondered why Brittany had chosen it. In years past, her friend preferred to choreograph more up tempo songs from artists like Beyoncé and Ke$ha.
A spotlight came up and tracked along the stage before settling on Brittany, dressed in a simple lavender dress, hunched over onto her knees. She waited, her posture seemingly defeated and broken as Adele's powerful, soulful voice carried right out into the audience and pierced Santana's heart.
One line.
That's all it took for Santana to know why Brittany had chosen this particular song. This was Brittany's version of 'Songbird'. This was about expressing her feeling for Santana. Her private feelings. Santana found herself getting lost in the song, imagining Brittany saying the words, singing them to her.
Feeling them.
Living them.
It was a plea.
Brittany was scared.
She wasn't pushing anymore because she was starting to doubt that Santana would ever take that step beyond friendship. She doubted herself and her ability to be enough of a reason for Santana to let go of the secrets and embrace who she really was. She wanted to be able to show that she could be strong enough to hold them both up. Brittany wanted to prove her love.
The realization floored Santana. She had told Brittany that she loved her on numerous occasions. But had she shown her?
Was that really so much to ask after all they had been through?
Santana couldn't take her eyes off of the blonde as she moved across the stage, her body a flowing extension of the music. Brittany's eyes were closed and her face pinched into a determined grimace as moved in short, twisting steps. It almost physically hurt to watch Brittany's emotions laid bare in such a devastatingly powerful medium, but Santana found that she couldn't look away. She was so captivated by the sight, that she was startled when Brittany's features blurred before her and it took a long moment before she realized that she was crying. Embarrassed at her lack of control, she hastily swiped at her eyes, but it was all for naught as Mrs. Pierce reached across her husband to pass a tissue into her hand.
Brittany finally came to rest as the last notes of the song rang out and disappeared under the thunderous applause that followed. Ever the gracious performer, she acknowledged the praise with a slight dip of her head before quickly making her way off to the wings.
The applause continued to grow as the classes one by one came up on stage to take a final bow. Santana paid them no mind, her thoughts still wrapped up in Brittany's song choice, her dance and wondering what it all meant. There was no coincidence when it came to the decisions Brittany made. Everything she did was thoughtful and planned out. She was a genius, after all.
Brittany chose that song for a reason and the only question that remained was how Santana was going to react to it.
She followed the Pierces as they made their way backstage, navigating the throngs of proud parents and excited dancers. Emily had a firm grasp on the back of her shirt and Santana wrapped her free arm around the girl's shoulders pulling in tight and shielding her away from most of the unintentional jostling.
"Britty!" Emily spotted her sister emerging from the dressing room and she jumped into her arms, squeezing her arms tight around Brittany's neck. "You were amazing!"
Brittany laughed in delight at her sister's exuberance. "Thanks."
Santana stood back as Mr. and Mrs. Pierce took turns hugging and praising their daughter. Mr. Pierce handed Brittany a large bouquet of gerbera daisies, her favorite, before lifting Emily up into his arms. "Ok, Brittany Sue, we're going to go on ahead and get a table before all these people beat us to it." He turned to Santana. "You're coming to get ice cream, too, right?"
Santana pretended to think it over before nodding her acceptance. It was tradition for the family, Santana included, to go out for ice cream after an important event whether it be Brittany's dance recitals, Emily's soccer games or even the time Lord Tubbington came home from an extended stay at the vet after devouring an entire bag of Halloween candy and having his stomach pumped. "Britt and I will meet you guys there."
Santana watched as the Pierces disappeared down the crowded hallway, before turning her attention back to Brittany. She edged closer and tentatively extended her hand, offering the small bouquet of flower. "You were great, Britt."
Brittany beamed at the compliment but Santana could see the tell-tale blush that graced her cheeks. "Thanks, San!"
"Britt, that song—"
She faltered and when she looked up, Santana could see the smile slip from Brittany's face. She reached out and grasped her hand, giving it a gentle tug as she lead them away from the main hallway and into an alcove that shielded them from the noise. "Britt—"
Brittany shook her head and squeezed her hand. "I—I'm sorry, San." Her words were rushed and colored with regret. "I shouldn't have done that. I promised you that I wouldn't push you into anything but I chose that song anyway and I've been so, so afraid that you'd think it was too much and—"
Santana closed the distance between them and cupped Brittany's cheek, pulling her into a kiss mid-sentence. At first Brittany was too shocked to move. But awareness caught up quickly and she pulled Santana into a tight embrace. The kiss, their first real one in weeks, lasted only moments, but they both pulled away breathless.
"It was perfect," Santana whispered against Brittany's lips. "The dance, the song…everything was perfect, Britt."
"Really?"
Santana pulled farther back to rest her hands on Brittany's shoulders. "I've been so stupid—"
"I hate that word."
Santana smiled ruefully. "I know you do, but this time the shoe fits. I once confessed my love for you in a crowded high school hallway. And after you shot me down—," she lifted a hand to forestall the rebuttal that she knew Brittany was about to make. "After that, I just closed myself off and vowed never to put myself in such a vulnerable position again." She paused, trying to mentally shake away the painful emotions that the memories evoked. "When you and Artie broke up, I guess I just got scared again. I thought that I could be brave and face everything head on. That's why I sang 'Songbird' to you. But it was hard for me to do even that. And when you asked me to be on Fondue for Two so you could ask me to prom, I panicked."
"San, it's okay."
"It's not, though," Santana disagreed, pulling away completely. "I'm tired of feeling this way." She ran her hands through her hair in frustration. "I want everything to not be so hard. I want to be able to hold your hand in school and not worry if we're going to be slushied for it…or worse. I want to be able to kiss you and not be afraid that my parents will find out and throw me out of the house. I want to be accepted for who I am…who we are." Brittany regarded her with a look of such understanding and adoration that Santana had to look away.
"No, don't do that," Brittany urged, gently lifting Santana's chin. "Santana, just knowing that you feel that way is enough for me right now.
"I promise that I'll work on being brave."
"You already are." Brittany leaned forward and pressed a small kiss to the corner of Santana's mouth. "We're in this together. And when you feel comfortable and safe letting people know, then that will be the right time for you and for us. And until then, I'll be with you every step of the way."
The sudden rush of joy and hope Santana felt at Brittany's declaration. "Do you want to go out?" she asked.
"Now?" Brittany scrunched her eyebrows in confusion. "But we told my parents that we'd meet them for ice cream."
"No, not tonight," Santana hastened to clarify. "Maybe…maybe Friday night? We could go to dinner at Breadstix. Then maybe a movie or we can use our fake IDs to get into Murph's for some karaoke and dancing?"
"Yeah?" Brittany brightened. "I'd love to, San."
"C'mon, I wants to get our rocky road on," Santana said, nudging Brittany back towards the hallway. They made their down the hallway, playfully bumping shoulders as they made their way through the crowd.
Brittany brought the small bouquet of white flowers to her nose. "You've never given me flowers before."
Santana shrugged as she felt her cheeks flush with warmth and scuffed her shoe against the linoleum floor. "This time was different, and you know it. You're trying to embarrass me on purpose."
"Because you're so cute when you blush." Brittany ran a fingertip along the delicate line of a flower. "What kind are these?"
Santana regarded the flowers tucked under Brittany's chin and her blush deepened even further. "They're—uh, calla lilies. I'm sorry that I couldn't buy you more of them, but they're expensive as hell."
"No, they're great." Brittany I assured her. "They're so pretty. I love them!"
"Do you know why I chose them?" She waited patiently for a response, but when Brittany remained silent and shrugged, she leaned in close to whisper. "They're, like, the lesbian of flowers."
"What?"
Santana laughed outright, stumbling a little when Brittany suddenly stopped in her tracks. "Remember that movie we saw last summer? We rented it when your parents were out of town visiting your grandmother with Emily and you had to stay here for cheer camp. It was the one about the woman who falls in love with the florist who did the arrangement at her wedding; you know, with the girl from Coyote Ugly."
Brittany squinted long and hard, before realization kicked in and she couldn't help but laugh herself. "Oh!"
"Yeah."
"Are you daring me to love you?" Brittany asked shyly, reaching down to link their pinkies.
Santana shook her head, shifting their fingers into a full handhold and squeezed gently. "Not daring you, Britt. Just asking you to."