Title: I Don't Know What To Do ('Cause You're Everything That I Knew)
Pairing: Santana/Brittany
Rating: PG/PG-13?
Summary: Sometimes, Santana found herself envious of the bond that Brittany shared with their cat. She would return home late due to work, and the two of them would be curled up together on the couch, Brittany murmuring softly to the purring cat in her lap as they focused on the flickering television. When she walked through the door, Brittany would look up and grin cheerfully at Santana, gesturing for her to go over and join them.
Warnings: Angst.
Spoilers: None.
Word Count: 3500~
Author's Note;; I've not been feeling the chirpiest lately, so today I flipped open Word and just wrote. Didn't have a plan in mind, didn't know what was going to come of it, didn't know if I was going to post it- All I knew was that it wasn't going to be happy.
This is complete angst. Just saying. It's my first try at an outright angsty fic, so I'm not really sure how I did, but if angst isn't your thing, it might be better if you don't read it. Everyone else, I hope you enjoy.
"Get the fuck away from me," Santana muttered mostly to herself, foot reaching out to nudge away the fluffy white and orange cat.
It merely yawned as if her mounting frustration was of no consequence, and stretched out on its side at the foot of her bed, paws kneading the already ragged comforter. It was that action that had her narrowing her eyes and baring her own teeth as she reached down and yanked the blankets out from under the cat, sending it flipping off the bed and sprawling on the floor in spectacular fashion.
After giving an indignant sniff of a meow, the cat flipped its tail in the air before stalking pointedly out of the room. Times like these, Santana could swear that it was giving her the feline equivalent of the middle finger. If she closed her eyes, she could almost picture hearing Brittany's voice chastising her for being so short with their precious pet- "Santana, he just wants to show you that he loves you."-, and she felt tears prickle behind her eyelids. Whenever she had been on the verge of losing her temper at the only spawn of Charity and Lord Tubbington, Brittany would insist that it was merely Caesar's way of portraying his undying love, before she scooped the cat up to her chest in a cuddle.
Sometimes, Santana found herself envious of the bond that Brittany and Caesar shared. She would return home late due to work, and the two of them would be curled up together on the couch, Brittany murmuring softly to the purring cat in her lap as they focused on the flickering television. When she walked through the door, Brittany would look up and grin cheerfully at Santana, gesturing for her to go over and join them. And she would, settling down on the other end of the couch and lifting Brittany's legs into her lap, tanned hands kneading surely at the muscles in Brittany's legs while the blonde and their cat continued their one-sided conversation.
Ever since they had taken Caesar out of Lima with them after he'd been born during their summer vacation, the two had proven nearly inseparable. At times, Santana would swear that the cat was actually a dog, for really, what self-respecting cat would allow himself to be collared, leashed, and brought out on walks? Their neighbours knew them as 'The Crazy, Gay, Cat Ladies' which was positively absurd, since they only had the one cat and really, Santana had never been, and will never be, a 'Cat Lady'. She only put up with Caesar because Brittany adored him so.
People, Santana oft groused to Brittany, were stupid.
But Brittany wasn't here right now, so Santana figured that she could be pissed at the cat for clawing at her- their- favourite blanket without fear of repercussion from the blonde. Many a good time (and/or memory) had been forged on the faded orange material, and if you squint, you could still make out the patterns of giraffes frolicking across it.
Tomorrow, Santana promised herself, tomorrow she would finally pack it into one of the numerous boxes that littered their apartment. The comforter represented a chapter of her life that was at a close, cliché as it sounded, and it was probably time to move on.
Tomorrow, she promised Brittany, they would finally move out of their two bedroom apartment. But for tonight, she would wrap herself up in a cocoon of memories and sleep. She was just so tired.
Tired to the point that when Caesar snuck back in and settled down a scant couple of inches away from Santana's face, she couldn't find it in her to throw him out again.
}{
The next morning found Caesar sitting on top of a box filled with Brittany's clothes- Mostly sweatpants and hoodies. One white paw kept batting idly at the 'E's that spelled out Cheerios on her high school cheer-team jacket, something that Brittany always found amusing. She'd insisted that the cat knew exactly what letter he was forever prodding at, and had declared that his favourite animal were obviously elephants.
Santana thought Brittany could be kind of nuts sometimes, but it didn't make her love her any less. When it came to Brittany, it was better to just go with the flow and humour her unless she wanted to be cut off for days.
"Britt-Britt!" Santana called out, her eyes warily fixated upon the tiny kitten spitting in her direction, "The fleabag is shredding your Cheerios jacket!"
"It's his new bed, San!" Brittany yelled back from her position in their new bedroom, "And Caesar is not a fleabag! He's very smart- I think Charity taught him to read!"
Sure. Scowling at the hairball, Santana childishly stuck out her tongue, muttering, "I thought I'd left you and your kind far back in Lima. Useless creatures."
In retaliation, Caesar later threw up in Santana's shoes.
}{
As Santana stormed all over the house cursing all cats and swearing to murder Caesar in his sleep one day, Brittany petted and cooed over their new pet.
"I think he's sick, San," Brittany told her worriedly from her spot on the floor, scratching behind furry white ears, "What do we do?"
"Stick the damn thing in the box and ship it off to China," Santana muttered back peevishly, nose wrinkled as she carefully tied the shoes up in a plastic bag to throw down the rubbish chute. There was no way she was keeping sneakers that had been puked on by a cat.
"Santana!" Brittany looked utterly scandalized, a pout forming on her face. "He's our cat; we can't send him on a vacation alone!"
When Santana shrugged and said that she thought Caesar would be very welcome on a Chinese family's dinner table with an apple in his mouth, Brittany proceeded to storm into their bedroom, cat in hand, and slammed the door in Santana's face, refusing to let her in for the next two days. The only way Santana could wiggle her way back in was to purchase an elephant stuffed toy for Caesar and dump a pan full of bacon into his feed bowl.
She could have sworn that the fat cat was leering all smugly at her for days afterwards.
Santana was sitting on the couch, gaze slightly unfocused. A ham and cheese sandwich was held loosely between her hands- So loosely that it fell to the floor when Caesar hopped off the box and strolled over, batting at the bread.
Watching the cat lick and nibble at her breakfast, Santana made a face. "That's not sanitary," She grumbled as she had done millions of times, only to have Brittany poke her side with a grin.
"Aw, San, he's just hungry!"
"No, Britt," Santana found herself protesting yet again, "He's just a thief. A fat thief."
A finger was wiggled admonishingly in front of her face. "Don't hurt his feelings, San," Brittany told her seriously, "He loves you."
"No, he loves you." The sides of Santana's lips quirked upwards. "I love you. You're easy to love."
The exchange of kisses came after that, with Brittany picking Caesar up and holding him out, close to Santana's face in a non-verbal prompt. The Latina scrunched her nose and frowned before she pressed her cheek to Caesar's, sighing out in a long-suffering voice, "I love you too, cat."
And he'd accept it with a gracious nuzzle, before allowing Brittany to clutch him to her chest in a snuggle. Sometimes, he really acted like his namesake- Except with Brittany. With her, he was affectionate and loving to the point where Santana thought him needy and annoying, but Brittany had always brushed off Santana's complaints with a wave of her hand. Then when the blonde turned away or was off at work, leaving Santana alone with him, Caesar would fix his smug amber eyes upon Santana, as though laughing at her attempts to turn Brittany against him. When Brittany wasn't around, he lounged about the apartment the whole day, meowing loudly when Santana tried to concentrate on work. He wouldn't shut up until he had been fed.
On rare days where Santana initiated a petting session, he'd blink slowly up at her before closing his eyes and tilting his head. If cats could talk, Santana had no doubts that this one would have uttered something along the lines of "well, if I must".
Today, Santana merely stared blankly as Caesar gnawed half-heartedly at a piece of ham, acting as she currently felt- Appetite nonexistent, unwilling to do anything at all. Beer bottles littered the table, and a half empty one graced the Latina's hand. Every once in a while, she'd lift it up and take a swing before resuming her slumped-over position on the couch, idly glancing around at the bare bones of what used to be her living room. The blank screen of the television stared forlornly back at her, and the walls were bare- Stripped of the picture frames that once hung there. They'd been carefully and lovingly put into a box that now sat near their bedroom door, simply labelled 'Pics'. It was depressing, really, how memories of amazing times could be easily packed and stored away in boxes.
When Caesar leapt onto the couch and wormed his way onto her lap, leaving most of the sandwich on the floor, Santana was startled into dropping the bottle of beer to the ground, where it just toppled onto its side and leaked the beverage everywhere. The two of them stared at the growing puddle, before Santana shrugged and pulled her legs up, running her fingers through the cat's thick fur.
"Good thing we packed up the carpet," Santana mumbled to Caesar, "Britts would kill us if we'd stained the ugly purple thing."
He gave an agreeable meow.
}{
She'd lied; broken promises she had known she wouldn't keep.
The day had come and gone, and they'd still not moved out. She just couldn't find the motivation to keep on packing- Why should they leave, when most of their adult life had been spent in this very apartment? They had hosted birthdays, let friends crash, spoken of any manner of things... She didn't want to move. So what if the apartment was too big for just her and the cat? Nothing and no one ever said that space was bad. Maybe Caesar could have his own room, or something. Santana was sure he'd appreciate that.
Speaking of the cat...
Heaving herself out of bed, Santana trudged off to find Brittany's- their- pet. Even though she insisted time and time again that she hated their blasted cat, Santana couldn't deny that she was feeling starved for company and even having the irritating feline around would be better than sleeping in their bed alone.
When she found him lying in front of their front door, wide yellow eyes staring unblinkingly at the space through which Brittany and Santana had walked out of and only Santana had returned through nearly three months ago, she couldn't help dropping down on the ground next to him and hoisting him onto her lap. For two weeks after Santana brought Brittany to the hospital for the last time, Caesar had refused to sleep anywhere but in front of the door- A sentiment that Santana could understand and sometimes wanted to share. Then one day, he'd just stopped, returning to his original resting place on their bed.
Santana felt guilty that she had pretty much ignored him except to toss him out of their bedroom and denying him access to places he had often accompanied Brittany to- like their mailbox-, but she just couldn't bring herself to lavish him with the same amount of attention Brittany used to bestow upon him. Even just seeing him around the apartment brought back memories that overwhelmed her with sorrow and self-pity and hatred. It really wasn't fair to hate an animal just because their primary owner wasn't around anymore.
It certainly wasn't fair to hate the cat for a decision that his owner had made.
Since Caesar had stopped sleeping in front of their door, Santana figured that he knew that Brittany wasn't returning home. At first she had been sceptical, because what did an animal know of death and loss? But since then, he had transferred all the attention he used to show Brittany over to Santana, becoming clingy beyond belief. It was as though he sensed that he had lost his soul mate, a companion that was supposed to be around till the end of their lives, and was trying desperately to replace her.
Brittany had once asked Santana if people could have soul mates in animals. Santana had stared incredulously back.
"Hey San," The blonde twirled a lock of dark hair around her finger, pressing her cheek more firmly against her wife's neck.
Pausing in her reading aloud of the last book in the Harry Potter series, Santana turned her head and pressed her lips to Brittany's forehead, shifting the book to one hand and wrapping her other arm tightly around the blonde's waist. "Yeah, Britt?" Today had been a good day- As time went on, such days became few and far between, so they had taken advantage and were currently at the park near the apartment, lounging lazily on a picnic mat with a familiar orange blanket draped over Brittany's too-slim shoulders.
"We're like, soul mates, right?"
Folding down the page they were at, Santana closed the book and laid it down on the mat before shifting them to lie on their sides, one hand propping her head up while the other trailed gently up and down Brittany's blanket-covered arm. "Yeah, Britt," She replied fondly, "I'd say we are."
"Can people have more than one soul mate?"
Brows pulling together, Santana shrugged the best she could while laying down. "I dunno. Maybe, but not me. You're my one and only."
Brittany gave Santana a half-smile, pressing a brief kiss to the Latina's lips before she pulled away to ask another question. "Can we have animal soul mates?"
Santana froze, and seconds ticked by before she cleared her throat. "Uh, I don't know. I don't think so."
"Oh." Quietly contemplative, Brittany rubbed the pads of her fingers against the inside of Santana's wrist for several minutes before she seemed to brighten. "Okay," She began again, suddenly cheerful, "I guess if they can't, then you are my only soul mate and we'll be like, together forever." Santana's heart clenched a little when the optimism in Brittany's voice dulled a little at the last bit, as though she didn't quite believe it herself, but the blonde powered through.
"But Caesar can be like, my dæmon, right? Like in those books we just finished, His Dark Compass? 'cause he's totally like my other half, only an animal. I just know that if I were a cat and you weren't, he'd be it. Me and him have this special connection, just like you and me."
"I miss her too," Santana pressed her face against white and orange fur, letting out a shuddering sigh.
Caesar let out a soft mew, his large furry body rumbling in a comforting purr even as he pawed at Santana's neck gently. As much as she knew it wasn't probable, Santana remained seated there in front of their front door for the rest of the night with their cat in her lap, waiting- praying- for a miracle that would never happen.
It was the last afternoon that Brittany would spend in their apartment- She had asked to go home for a couple of days, since most of the previous months she had spent at the hospital, and though they allowed pets for limited times, there had been some things she wanted to do in the familiarity of their apartment. Santana had spent much of the previous night crying quietly into the crook of Brittany's neck, sending up silent prayers that weren't going to be answered to a higher power she had stopped believing in a long time ago. Quinn would be arriving later to pick them up and drive them to the hospital since Santana would, in all likeliness, end up driving straight into a ditch, and the rest of their close friends and family were going to meet them there.
Once again, Brittany and Caesar were curled up in their familiar position on the couch, the girl murmuring softly into gently twitching furry ears. Try as she might, Santana couldn't hear what was being said from her place at the kitchen counter, and she dropped her face into her open palms and scrubbed at her swollen eyes. She would go on over and spend what time she had left with her wife, but Brittany had asked for a few minutes alone to talk to their cat.
"I have to tell him to be strong," She had told Santana, blue eyes intensely serious. "That I love him and he needs to be there for you always if I can't."
That brought around a fresh onslaught of tears that Brittany dabbed weakly at, before Santana managed to pull herself together and help Brittany arrange herself comfortably on the couch, setting Caesar gently on her chest. The cat had instantly started up a soft rumbly purr, and he kept going until Quinn touched the back of Santana's hand and told her that it was time to leave. Santana had barely been able to hold back her retort of telling her to go fuck herself, but Brittany had heard and smiled shakily at the Latina.
"Help me up?" She asked, and Santana was by her side in an instant, leaning over and cradling Brittany and Caesar to her chest.
Pressing one final kiss to their cat's head, Brittany allowed Quinn to lift him up and set him gently on the floor. "Bye, 'cease," She whispered softly over Santana's shoulder, "I'll see you soon, okay?"
Quinn thought that a cat had never looked more sceptical.
Once they were out the door, Brittany stifled a sob. "You gotta take care of him, okay San?"
Santana's step faltered, and she had to lean against the wall of the corridor for a few moments before she could carry on walking. "Yeah, Britts," She managed, "I got this."
"I don't got this," Santana finally broke the silence, her fingers rubbing against the bottom of Caesar's chin while he peered up at her through half-lidded eyes, "Did she say you gotta take care of me, too?"
The orange and white cat meowed, before stepping daintily out of Santana's lap, nudging his head against the side of her hip. He kept weaving around her body until she finally stood and followed his lead to the couch, sinking down upon it while he made himself comfortable on her chest, the gentle vibrations of his purr echoing through her body and relaxing her some.
As much as she wished that her taller, blonde counterpart were in her place while she herself watched from the other end of the couch, massaging Brittany's legs between her hands and smiling at the picture the three of them made, these were the cards she- they; Caesar and her,- had been dealt with, and they were going to have to make the best of it.
Times like these, Santana reflected, she was utterly grateful to have their cat around because, loath as she was to admit it, he represented a large portion of the life she and Brittany had led together out of Lima. He was worth as much as, if not more, his weight in memories of happier times. Though there was both an upside and a downside to that, Santana wouldn't get rid of him for the world.