Okay, this is just drabble. It's loosely connected with my baby!Brittana fic Peanut Butter and Fluff, as this event was one that Brittany recalls in that story. I'm STILL working on chapter six of This Isn't Dating, I promise. It's just super emotional for me, so it's slow. It's also kind of long. You'll get that soon, but for now… Have this little fluff bit.
Rachel Berry was a very meticulous color-inner. She always filled in every hint of white between the lines with the appropriate color- unless, of course, the space's designated color was white. Her pictures always came out looking precisely as they were supposed to look. The teacher complimented her talent generously, praising her for her multi-cultural coloring book characters- all of whom, she would dutifully point out, could marry whoever they wanted (it was important to Rachel to clarify this, specifically when her classmates could hear).
Rachel might very well have been the best color-inner in the class, in fact, if it weren't for Brittany Susan Pierce. While Rachel's coloring pages were full of cultural diversity and perfectly filled space, they were very flat. She didn't understand how to make them look otherwise. If Ariel's hair was supposed to be red, then she colored it red- but she didn't know how to make it look like real hair. Brittany, however, drew things that seemed to jump off the page. It didn't seem fair to Rachel that such a talent would be wasted on a girl like Brittany – the girl didn't even use the right colors most of the time (her people would sometimes be purple, she'd draw in her own designs on the dresses, she'd add a horn to the head of all the horses to "fix the unicorns) – but a fact was a fact.
Brittany was the best color-inner in the class. Her animals looked like they had fur. Her clothing looked like it had texture. There were shadows and stuff. She was very good, and that bothered Rachel Berry horribly. Brittany couldn't even write her full name yet without the help of her best friend, Santana Lopez- something Rachel had been doing since she was much younger in preparation for a time when she'd be signing autographs. Brittany didn't understand a lot of things the same as everyone else. Santana had to explain it sometimes, but a lot of the time she would just shrug and say that maybe the way Brittany saw it was actually the right way. Rachel almost always understood everything the first time, and she always understood it the right way. And yet, silly, spacey Brittany was still better than her at this.
It was arts and crafts time. Rachel had a Disney princess coloring book and had just finished filling the last white spot in Sleeping Beauty's beautiful blonde hair when she realized- she didn't have a pink crayon. How could she finish Sleeping Beauty's dress without a pink? The little brunette pursed her lips and slid her eyes to her left where Brittany sat, kicking her feet and humming, coloring in the tail of a horse with the exact color Rachel needed. Brittany brought her own crayons with her from home, and because she was a talented color-inner, she had a big crayon box like Rachel. Rachel, however, didn't have a pink crayon. So how could she get Brittany's so that she could finish her princess' dress?
Her salvation came in a form she'd never expect- Santana Lopez. Not that Santana was mean to her, exactly. It was more that she had no interest in Rachel whatsoever, and so hardly said more than two words to her. She helped Rachel only indirectly by calling Brittany over for assistance in constructing a play dough house or something. Immediately the blonde set her pink down and darted off to help her friend. Shocked and delighted with her luck, Rachel looked from the other two girls to the crayon, hesitating before wrapping her fingers around it and hurriedly dragging it across her princess' dress. She attempted to work fast so that she wouldn't get caught, her tongue caught between her teeth as she fought to be both quick and perfect. A little more, a little more, just a little bit-
Snap!
The crayon broke under the pressure of her tightly fisted fingers. Rachel stared in horror at the atrocity she'd just committed, unable to believe her luck. Not only was she a crayon thief, she was a crayon murderer! What would she do? Panic set in. The little girl's chin wobbled as she looked back and forth between the two pieces. Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no! "Rachel?" Distraught, she whipped around and spotted Brittany standing just behind her. "Are you okay?" Her bright blue eyes shifted, went wide. Her lower lip poked out in a pout as she realized what Rachel was holding. "Hey! My crayon."
"I am very sorry, Brittany! I was just trying to finish Sleeping Beauty's dress! I didn't intend to break your crayon." She held out the two pieces, scared that Brittany would get mad (even though she didn't think she'd ever seen her mad). Slowly the blonde reached out and took her crayon back, cradling it in her palms like one might hold a baby bird, her blue eyes sad. She looked so upset. The guilt filled Rachel up, sent her little heart racing. She was terrified the girl was going to tattle. The guilt turned to frightened anger, as it so often did in small children, and the tiny brunette fisted her hands against her hips. "Don't be dumb. It's just a silly crayon." Brittany looked up at her, her eyes tearing up. Rachel winced and opened her mouth, but before she could apologize, someone behind her was speaking.
"What did you call her?" Rachel's dark eyes went wide and she turned to see a small, angry Santana glaring at her with eyes even darker than Rachel's. Maybe Santana had never been mean to her, but she was known for getting into fights. She'd pushed Finn Hudson off the jungle gym once not long ago because he'd told her she wasn't as good as him at playing cops and robbers. There was no telling what she would do to someone who dared insult Brittany Susan Pierce. "I asked her what you called her, Berry."
"I-I…. I didn't call her anything!" she replied instinctively, stepping away from Santana. The other girl was a little shorter than Rachel, the smallest person in their class in fact, but she was a lot scarier. No way Rachel wanted to be on her bad side- though it appeared to be too late.
"It's okay, San," Brittany spoke up, her airy voice a little watery as she sniffed and moved around Rachel to stand by her friend, wiping tears from her pinkened cheeks. Still, she smiled slightly at Rachel. "It's just a crayon." The words gave Rachel a brief moment to relax, like everything would be okay. But of course, the crayon was not why Santana was mad at her.
"No it isn't," she corrected hotly, glaring at Rachel. "She called you stupid. She made you cry. That's not nice, and it is so not allowed." Santana moved to the table, looking down at the drawing Rachel had been coloring. "Pretty," she said, and for a moment Rachel feared she might ruin the drawing. Instead, though, the girl reached over the book to the box of Rachel's crayons. She picked a handful of them up in her tiny hands, and with a little smirk for Rachel, she flicked both hands down. The crayons all snapped under her precise movement and then she dropped the remains onto the coloring book. "Oops. Don't be stupid, though. They're just silly crayons. Come on, Britt." She slid her hand delicately over Brittany's, picking up the two halves of the pink crayon the blonde still held in that same careful, baby bird way. "Maybe we can fix it."
"Sorry, Rachel," Brittany said sympathetically as she slid her pinky through Santana's free one and the pair wandered off towards the paste to see if they could fix the broken pink crayon. She stood there staring after them with her mouth open and shockingly silent for once.
"She's kinda scary, huh?" Rachel turned her head to see Noah Puckerman standing beside her, a hand running over his weird haircut as he looked after Brittany and Santana as well. "They're just best friends, though. Santana really likes Brittany."
"I know that, Noah," Rachel said with a sniff, folding her arms. She sulked slightly as she watched Santana attempt to paste the crayon together. Watched as she failed and simply drew Brittany into a comforting hug. Watched as Brittany murmured reassurances to Santana instead of vice versa, as if Santana was particularly upset that she'd failed to fix the problem. "I didn't mean to break her crayon."
Puck shrugged. "Doesn't matter. She won't ever forget this now. Never ever."
Rachel learned that Noah Puckerman was quite right. Santana never forgot her vendetta against her. Perhaps the reason had been lost over time, but the Latina girl always seemed to pay particular attention to tormenting her. She'd taken to using names that made fun of her petite stature their eighth grade year when she'd shot up about three inches taller, had taken to calling her various versions of cross-dressing and transgender nicknames after puberty had been kind to her and, well, had kind of overlooked Rachel. A few things had changed, but that never did.
She watched them now, eyes trained on them as they performed a duet together for the first time- well, if you discounted the fact that Miss Holliday sat between them, which they certainly seemed to be doing. It had been years since that kindergarten classroom, and Rachel had thought they hadn't changed at all since then. Apparently… well, apparently she was wrong. There was something more there. Something deeper. She watched them hug, watched Brittany murmur gentle reassurances. And she remembered a paste-covered pink crayon years before. Everything had changed.
Beaming, she said, "Can I just applaud this trio for exploring the uncharted world of Sapphic charm? Brava. Brava." Her comment was genuine and filled with delight. She saw a future of bonding over gay rights and petitions and pamphlets. That bubble was popped quickly enough.
Santana turned to stare at her, expression cool. "Look, just because I sang a song with Brittany doesn't mean that you can put a label on me. Is that clear?" Her expression promised retribution for Rachel calling attention to the moment's undercurrents before she glanced once at Brittany and then sat down.
Okay…Apparently not everything