Disclaimer: I am not, am not affiliated with, and do not own anything owned by the creators of Glee. Although I desperately wish I had Naya and Heather in my employment, it is sadly untrue.
Brittany's usually bright, open face, never complete without a pretty crooked smile, is a dark mask of confusion on Thursday afternoon. Her brows are scrunched down tight over her eyes as she bends nearer to the page, like it will be easier to understand if she can only get close enough. She looks up with a quivering lip at Santana, who has watched her like this for fifteen minutes, waiting to save the day as per usual. "So, the electrons are in this cloud," the blonde begins hesitantly, pausing for approval before continuing. "They're in a cloud and...then...there's rain?"
Santana's heart falls a little every time she sees this look in Britt's Barbie-blue eyes, like she's trying so hard to make sense of the world around her. If only her mind could catch up to her body, she'd be a genius. Secretly, San is more than a little glad that her friend is not all there upstairs; what would bubbly, beautiful Brittany need her for if she didn't struggle with square roots and mountain ranges in Europe? She sighs quietly as she sits down and pulls the textbook toward her, fingers slipping over the glossy picture-pages. "Look at the picture, B," she says patiently, acid tongue put away when it comes to this. "The electrons sort of stay in this cloud, but they're always changing places. Just like at Cheerios." She swirls one nail across the picture haphazardly in demonstration, turning to see if that look of dawning realization is starting to shine through in Brittany's face.
Her peach-glossed bottom lip is trapped between her teeth as she tilts her head from side to side at the picture. Slowly, she nods and looks back up at Santana, meeting her guarded dark eyes with the ease that comes from being best friends since forever. "So, the electrons are dancing…and the protons and neutrons are like…a pyramid?" Her whole body is on edge with the possibility of finally understanding something, and San doesn't have it in her heart to let her down.
"Right!" she says with an enthusiasm she usually saves for when Coach Sylvester is screaming at them through her megaphone. "So, if the nucleus is a pyramid and the electrons are dancers…"
"The atom is the auditorium!" Brittany exclaims, picking up her pencil and boxing in bleachers around the refined Bohr model in the book that they share. She sketches in a quick "B & S" by habit as a signature and then drops her pencil to hug Santana, arms locked tight around her waist in glee. "You're the best, S!" She is so close that her ponytail tickles at the back of Santana's neck and her breath comes out hot on her ear. Britt is always the best about ignoring how stiff she goes when she's cornered, and doesn't mind when San doesn't hug back; she's content simply knowing that her affection is tolerated.
Brittany, at ease now that the atom is fully understandable in her mind, slips her left hand back to the table to shut the science book, leaving her right arm around Santana's waist. Never mind that they are in the middle of the cafeteria and get odd looks every now and again; Britt seems to be ignorant of the way her comfortable body language comes across. People should be used to it by now anyway, at least, since the two girls have been holding hands and twisting pinkies since kindergarten, the good old days of hopscotch and spending at least fifteen minutes a day convincing her that glue would not be a good snack.
"I love you, Santana," she says casually even as she waves obliviously across the room to one of Puck's jock friends, who gestures to his crotch lewdly. It's enough to catch Santana off-guard and the soft contact at her hip is suddenly very present. Being touched isn't her problem, exactly. It's the way that Brittany does it, like it is the most natural thing to be always connected and open. The Lopez family has never been particularly close and San is used to fingers on her skin only long enough to get what they want and go. The tiny fingers dancing beneath the hem of her uniform top are quiet and soft and not going anywhere, and it is just another one of those things about Britt that Santana doesn't think she will ever learn to understand.
"I love you too, B," she admits, turning again to stare at the face that fascinates her now as much as it had when they first met. She barely remembers, now, fawning over her pale, pink-tinted skin and the hair that made her think of Rapunzel, long and thick and inexplicably yellow. She had never been proud of being Latina until then, when she first linked arms with this dreamy girl who told her she looked like a foreign princess. Their skin together makes a pretty palette that boys can't help but look twice at, and together they've got a perfect record at McKinley High. The constant conquests kept her mind away from Brittany's puzzled laugh or little white-girl dancer's body; now that they've both checked off each and every one of the boys worth having, it's harder not to think about the nights that they had spent learning each others' bodies for the sake of it.
She is caught off guard when Britt turns to look back at her. She is almost always caught off guard by how truly happy Brittany seems most of the time; how she never seems to worry for too long and can't imagine anything going wrong. Sometimes, she wonders if she does all the hurting for the both of them. If that's true, she doesn't mind; the few time she has seen those innocent eyes fill with tears have been torture. In so many ways, Brittany is just a child and Santana does all she can to preserve her sky of lavish dreams.
"What is it, San?" she asks, all of her easily stolen attention focused on one point at that moment. She is curious but not concerned and there is a glow about her that seems not to leave whenever she is with Santana. It calls back her face wild with joy on those young adolescent nights and her body swaying in time to the music in her head, always leading her.
Santana shakes her head to clear her mind and looks down at he folded hands in her lap. On a whim she pulls Brit's hand into her own and laces their fingers together like old times. "Just thinking about those Gleeks," she says icily, cutting her eyes at Rachel Berry in her awkward argyle sweater, doing some kind of dramatic exercise that seemed to involve stretching her face into odd expressions and shaping her mouth into a perfect o. "She thinks she's hot shit."
Brittany's face fell. "Oh," she said, squinting across the room. "She's got man-hands. How did her gay dads have a girl anyway? Shouldn't she be a boy?" Her eyes wandered down to her own delicate hand. She was quiet for a moment, and Santana was sure that she had zoned out again as usual, until she looked back up with an aura of purpose that was new for her. "I think about us too, San," she says evenly, tracing her fingertips across the chained love line on her friend's palm. It can almost pass for one of her post-daydream oddities, but her mouth is set in a hard line as she stares at herself reflected in Santana's dark brown eyes. There is a dazed silence and then, as if the entire thing had been a daydream dancing across her mind, Brit is a ray of sunshine once again. "Want to go throw slushies in Rachel's face?"
When Santana opens her science book to study that night, Brittany's scrawl draws her eye and she notices, for the first time, the small heart wrapped around the ampersand. Her phone buzzes and she checks it excitedly, grimacing at Puck's terrible text spelling. For a moment she is caught between the two; Puck begging for a late night booty call - Brittany with her round, childish heart two streets over and no doubt in her basement stretching at the barre, caught up by her reflection. She smiles and takes the time to type out two words ("Call Quinn") and grabs the book, pushing up her window to boost herself out into the street.
Santana knows what people say about Brittany.
She knows that there are a lot of things that Britt will never understand.
But sometimes, with her child's eyes, Brittany sees all that really matters, and when Santana blows in like a tropical storm and kisses her silly, she is not one bit confused.
A/N: This is my first ever Glee fanfic. It's not set in a particular time period, and I don't think I'm too good at getting the characters pinned down. I just felt the urge to write some Brittana as I see it because I love them to death. Any help with characterization or any other aspects would be appreciated!