Author's Note-Haven't written in a while…unlike a lot of stories that I have percolating for a while, this one came to me to suddenly, like the first tackle in a game. Hadn't been motivated to write Brittana because, I, for the life of me, can't get Brittney down. However, writing this bitch out for a bit, it might come to me. I also started writing this at the beginning of the season so, it'll deviate from canon. The titles are based on the old rugby scrum cadence.
Disclaimer-Don't own Glee.
It happened one day; walking home, past the small patch of green that existed in the concrete jungle. However, the green was not so much green as brown with green clods punctuating the churned ground. There was something enticing, intoxicating, as Santana stared at the women running with a ball. The woman had a beautiful stride, muscles straining to carry her faster, a fierce look of determination on her face, rarely seen amidst the solemn resignation of the masses of thronging pedestrians in New York City. What was more mesmerizing was another women running from seemingly nowhere, crashing into the running woman, lifting her slightly before driving her body into the ground. Santana assumed it was a full-contact football game. But evidently it was not since the woman that was tackled, before hitting the ground, flipped the ball into the air. A third woman sprinted by, catching the squat ball and running a few feet before sliding on her chest.
With the action arrested, Santana's trance was broken. She had no idea what she had just witnessed; all she comprehended was how beautiful it all was. The last time she had marveled at the sheer spectacle that was the human body was when she watched Brittany dance, and that was so long ago. No, this brutish and boorish spectacle she had just been a part of was, inexplicably poetic.
The girl that had dove on the ground was now standing, brushing off the front of her shirt, having no effect on the green/brown stain. "Great end to practice!" a slightly overweight woman materialized, clapping her hands and jovially patting women near her on their backs. A handful of girls were crowded around, what Santana could only assume was the coach, talking quietly amongst themselves. She heard the pack of women yell a word and start their trudge to a set of bleachers. Santana started walking past, keeping her eyes on this team playing a completely foreign game. There was a young woman sitting on the bleachers holding, what appeared to Santana, to be a beer. The third girl, who had slid on her front, was now moving to the woman on the bleachers. She leaned in for a kiss, taking the beer.
Santana increased her pace to reach home, feeling somewhat embarrassed. She could not quite put her finger on why. It seemed to have stemmed from the two women kissing. But why should she be embarrassed? She liked girls, but she could not quite accept the whole, publicly out-and-proud image. Glee club was a safe zone. But even when she was at college, she could not quite be out and proud. The only reason she could pretend was when she vindictively went after Brittney, and that was because it was in the safety of the Glee room. Instead of dwelling on all the drastic actions she had taken to get back at Brittney, she thought back to what she had witnessed. The eloquence of the brutish looking sport had stirred her. "I would be so good at fucking people up." She thought to herself. There was many a time where Santana had wished to react physically rather than verbally. Perhaps getting some her physical aggression out might make her feel her less...less something that she could not put her finger on. "Let's face it," Santana thought "I'd be great at a sport like that, plus I am in some great shape. Can't be a cheerleader without some killer legs."
Santana arrived back at the apartment. Rachel had not returned from school; with her audition impending, she spent inordinate amounts of time practicing at school. Kurt was cuddling with Adam on the couch, watching something Santana did not care about.
"You're back later than normal." Kurt commented from the couch.
"And you're keeping pretty close tabs on me there single white female," Santana responded as she slid the door shut.
Kurt ignored her retort, now use to the uncouth manner in which she spoke. "Seriously Santana," (Rachel and Kurt had tried to call her 'San' once and after Santana's explosion, they settled on simply calling her Santana), "What took you so long to get home?"
Santana sighed at Kurt's persistence. She loved the gay boy to death, he was family after all now, but he poked around like...well, she did. Rather than replying, Santana continued her routine of making her dinner of Top Ramen ("it says Top so it has to be the best"). "I saw some women playing a weird version of football at the park down the street. I watched for a bit."
Adam turned to look at Santana. "American football or normal football?"
Santana stopped stirring her ramen to look at the Brit in the fashion that would imply you had a penis drawn on your face. "What the hell is 'normal football'?" Santana even made finger quotes when she said 'normal football.'
"Oh, what do you blokes call it again? Right, soccer."
Santana returned to her cooking, "Normal football. Not soccer." Soccer was one part of her Hispanic heritage she could not get into.
"Well, I did hear there was a women's rugby football club forming up around here. It's probably them." Adam said as he resettled himself on the couch.
"I'm sorry Oliver Twist. Women's what football?"
Kurt groaned loudly. He hated sports. He hated even more that every man that has entered his life held a great love for it.
"Hush Lady Hummel. I'm trying to hear what Oliver Twist is telling me. Please sir, can you explain some more?" Santana quipped.
"Rugby. It's like American football but with no pads and no stopping." Adam replied. So rarely was he given a chance to talk about sports that interested him that he did not even care that Kurt was fuming. "The game is big in every civilized place. In fact, the 6 Nations games just ended. Bloody Irish women dethroned the English women this year."
"Slow down there Twist." Santana said, hanging on Adam's explanation. "What the hell is this…Six Nation games?"
"It's an international completion in Europe. There are various levels in rugby union. Let's see, there's England, Ireland, Scotland, Wales, Italy, and France." Adam replied. Kurt made exasperated noises from the end of the couch, in hopes that the pair would quit talking sports.
"Thank god you're home Rachel." Kurt ran over to her the minute she walked in. "Santana found some weird sport from England and she stole Adam away."
Rachel hung her jacket up. "Adam likes sports?" she asked.
"Apparently he LOVES rugby. Something about hunky guys with scars. I don't know. But Santana stole him away to talk about this sport." Kurt replied. "Can we please watch a musical of some such so I don't have to listen to anymore sports talk?" Kurt grabbed Rachel hand was dragging her towards the tv. Rachel could see Adam and Santana huddled around the table, in rapt conversation. Feeling bad for her roommate, she relented to watch "Funny Girl" for the millionth time; she might as well work on for her audition while she was at it.