Original title: (Will You) Be My Superhero
It was supposed to be a regular practice session, just like it was every other Wednesday. Santana always hated slogging down to the mud trodden track, the place where all pretty things went to die. But she went anyway because Brittany told her once that she was her "extra special good luck charm". It didn't stop San from hating the whole process from start to finish, though. Every time the blonde (her blonde) entered the track on her bright green motorcycle, an invisible force would hold a vice-like grip over the latina's chest. Brittany put herself in mortal peril when she drove that screaming metal death trap, but she outright refused Santana's pleas to quit. Motocross was one of Brittany's passions in life, and it would kill her to end it.
The track was an ugly brown, with deep, angry lines already etched in its surface from earlier in the day. The uneven stretch of road was enough to send San into a tizzy. How can Britt-Britt fucking survive in this mud hole they call a course? This is not gonna work with me.
As they walked closer to the thoroughfare, Santana makes her move. "Sooo...Did you bring your last will and testament? 'Cause I'm pretty damn sure you're not making it out of here alive."
Brittany laughs, "Oh San, you always say that. I'm not gonna die. I'm part superhero, remember?"
Santana stares at her girlfriend, confused for the umpteenth time that day, "When did you become that?"
"Oh...I made it up just now." Brittany shrugs, a light smirk glancing her mouth, "Sorry to not keep you in the loop. I know my brain moves a little too fast for ya most of the time."
"Oh ha, ha. Very funny blondie." Santana sighs, a serious expression falls on her face, "But I'll make you a deal. If you can stay as 'Super Britt' today, and survive whatever hell you're willingly putting yourself through, I'll give you whatever you want."
Brittany eyes widen with excitement, "You mean...If I wanted a duck, you would get me one?" The cheerio practically squeals with delight.
Santana chuckles and shakes her head in mock disbelief, I am totally, irrevocably in love with this girl. "Sure baby, whatever you say. Anything for you."
Brittany literally jumps for joy, suddenly swooping Santana up in her strong arms. Spinning and laughing, the two girls catch themselves up in the moment they had created, finally ending as Brittany gently lowers Santana back down to solid ground. Brown eyes connect with blue, and, gently, the star crossed lovers share a simple kiss.
Before Santana realized it, she was on the stands, watching her girlfriend cross the spray painted white line, mounting her motorbike with ease.
Ugh, why can't she just mount me instead? Santana thought, frustrated beyond words. It didn't also help that Brittany's motocross outfit made her look like the most major badass in all of Ohio. That rugged, lime green leather jacket with matching leather pants almost sent Santana over the edge on several occasions.
Desperately trying to keep her focus, Santana narrowed her eyes at her girl's competition. They were all men, wearing similar expressions of deep concentration. One of the largest men in the group even had a ridiculous scowl to match. The latina rolled her eyes at them. Those boys could think and over-think the course a million times if they wanted to, but they could never touch Brittany's natural ability to know exactly when to bank and jump. San always attributed this skill to the dancer in Britt. The blonde knew how to keep that body in rhythm at all times, and damn, that girl could move.
The roar of engines tore Santana out from her mental worshipping. The bikers were all geared up and ready to go. The track owner ascended the small platform on the sidelines, a red and green flag in hand. Apprehension swelled in Santana's chest. Her heart really can't go through this shit over and over again. The race hasn't even started yet and the so-called HBIC is very close to hysterically yanking her partner off her vehicle.
Too little, too late. Santana muses, as the red flag goes down as green rises into the sky. The riders kick it into high gear, kicking up a thick cloud of dust in their wake. Brittany emerges at the head of the pack, (as she always does. Santana thought proudly) leaving the other riders scrambling to catch up. Santana imagined Brittany laughing at the sight. The blonde always got a kick out of shocking the boys with her epic motocross abilities.
Entering the first turn, Santana watched Brittany bank with such a grace, somehow gaining speed on the unstable dirt road. One of the smaller bikers bailed, skidding off the track and into a massive dirt pile. Santana flickered her eyes to the pitiful screw up before returning her attention back on the only person that mattered. The boy was probably fine. Those kind of accidents happen all the time, and the brunette had long since learned to not waste her time on concern for the idiots who can't keep their hands on their own bike.
Brittany straightened out of her turn, accelerating on the long stretch of road in front of her. Unfortunately, the other riders were gaining on her. Santana noted that the big guy with the stupid frown was taking a close second place. She didn't like how the brute was barreling down the track. He looked as unstable as you could get. Nevertheless, the race was getting interesting as the riders neared the first dirt ramp. It was Brittany's favorite part of motocross, and, of course, Santana's least favorite. The blonde compared the jumps to flying, like being the bird she always wanted to be. All Santana could think about was the falling down and dying part. But that had never happened to Brittany. The blonde always took such care into her ascent and descent, that the casual onlooker would never know that anything was wrong. But both Britt and San knew that that moment in the air was the only time on the track that Brittany lost focus. Santana blamed her girlfriend's "bird-brain" for this flaw all the time.
As Brittany neared the ramp, the rest of the riders drew alongside her, Big N' Brutelike getting close. Almost too close. Santana crossed her fingers and toes as she watched her lover sail into the sky.
It happened entirely too fast.
Santana's brain stopped processing all logical thought. She didn't understand. How did Brittany's green motorbike suddenly fly without its rider? Who's helmet was soaring off into the distance? Santana could only stare as her soulmate plummeted to what was sure to be her death.
Someone was screaming. All hell broke lose.
"Oh my god, Brittany no!" Santana shrieked from her seat in the bleachers. She took off into the track, not giving a rats ass who was going to stop her. People were already crowding around the accident. Two bikes were on their sides, the green bike's front wheel bent beyond repair.
Santana saw all these things, but refused to acknowledge them. If she did, that would be admitting that something terrible had happened. That her girl could possibly not be existing on this planet anymore.
Santana let out a choked out sob, still. No. she can't think that way. There's still hope. There has to be hope.
A/N: To be continued! This will be concluded in the next chapter. Let me know what you think!