A/N: Was clearing out my drafts folder and found this. This was supposed to be for Brittana Week: Day 5 (Mini!Brittana) but I fretted about this and attempted to edit it but never got around to actually making any changes. So here it is in its raw state.

Let's Rewind

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Okay, nope, this isn't helping at all. Even as she is trying to take deep breaths to calm her nerves, Santana still feels like the air is just taking a quick visit to her lungs and then it is leaving so soon that she doesn't feel like she is breathing at all. She squeezes her eyes shut in the hopes that maybe if she focuses on letting the air in, it will actually go somewhere it is really needed, like, you know, from her lungs to her heart, which will hopefully help calm its pounding.

But at the slightest sound of movement around her, she opens her eyes wide. Her breathing becomes shallow again and her heart is racing madder than ever.

Her palms are already sweaty and she wonders when was it that she, Santana Lopez, hailing from the notorious Lima Heights Adjacent, had become such a nervous wreck.

She eyes the cars coming in and dropping their snot-faced packages on the curb.

Thinking about it now, closing her eyes seems like a bad idea since she might miss that girl she had been waiting for by the bike rack for almost an hour now.

Which is kinda dumb and creepy.

But hey, she can't be blamed for trying to hang on to the only good thing in this crappy cow-town.

Well, maybe that's an exaggeration.

But not by much.

See, Santana Lopez never had much luck making friends, due in no small part to being put under the careful eye of her mami or her abuela most times. She had thought at first that it's just because they're overly protective of her, only child-slash-grandchild and all. But lately, she's gotten the feeling that it's more than just that.

Like the other night, when she was rifling her parents' dresser to try on her papi's ties, her mami caught her in the act and tugged her out of the room. She was made to stand at the hallway, and, just her luck, her abuela had come over for dinner, so she had the pleasure of a tongue-lashing from the woman she loves and respects above everyone else.

"Dios mio, Santana! Eres una chica! Why do you insist on behaving in such an unladylike manner! Climbing trees, playing with dirt, running around like those misbehaving miscreants, and now, dressing up in your father's clothes! We really cannot take our eyes off you for even just one minute!"

Her mami tried to intervene but it only resulted in a heated argument in Spanish too fast for her to catch.

So anyway, the fact that she doesn't get to go out much, and that she often has to wear these uncomfortable dresses when she does may have made her a bit… socially awkward.

In an angry sort of way.

Well, she can't help it; other kids are just dumb and they look at her funny and if she doesn't make it clear from the very start that she ain't taking bullshit from them, who knows what she'll end up having to deal with for the rest of her stay in Lima.

Mm-hmm, that's right, girl; Santana Lopez is getting out of Lima and she's gonna be a star.

In what way, she still hasn't figured that part of the plan yet.

Well hey, baby steps.

So yeah, back to the two established points: a) Santana hates being in Lima, and 2) she doesn't have many friends (read: none). But, something happened last week that just might change these two points.

She found a girl with the sun in her hair and the sky in her eyes.

/

So Santana is determined to become a star, right?

Lately, she has been crafting her plans as to how to become one, and her leading idea is to form a band and become a rockstar. So one night, she asks her parents for an electric guitar. And amplifier. And everything else that rockstars use, because she's going to be one.

It didn't take her long to realize that telling them is one of the worst decisions she has ever made in her short life.

Dr. Lopez drops his spoon and her mami's eyes dart from him to Santana and back to her husband. Then comes the longest, most uncomfortable silence in the history of mankind.

"No," her papi finally said, his eyes dark and unreadable.

And Santana thinks that's that.

Boy, was she wrong.

The next night, her abuela comes over and after another sermon about how it's not good to act so unladylike, she announces that she's enrolling Santana to dance class.

Santana can't remember what happened after that announcement. She thinks she might have blacked out.

See, Santana Lopez doesn't do dance classes. She'd rather climb trees, run around and play cowboys and Indians with the other kids, shoot some water guns and the likes. But what can she do, her abuela says so and her abuela is like God. Her word is law.

So Saturdays has become ballet days.

Which, you know, she still hasn't exactly warmed up to. She just isn't used to controlled yet graceful movements. So her first day kind of sucked, and that really puts a damper on her Fridays, 'cause then they'd mean Saturday is just one shut-eye away.

But anyway, on her second day at ballet class, she finally finds a ray of sunlight. In the form of a really pretty blond girl with blue eyes the color of noon-sky. This girl is like the awesomest dancer in the class, and even puts their teacher to shame. It's like pretty girl had sucked in all the grace that everyone in the room possessed so that they all looked like bumbling idiots beside her.

So Santana decides that she'll, you know, try to make friends with her or something.

Which turns out to be very difficult since she's kinda awkward and the pretty girl is all friendly-like and all the other kids naturally congregate around her. But like hell she's gonna give up easy.

After careful yet casual observation, Santana finds out that pretty girl rides her bike to ballet class. Which isn't exactly very common since the other girls are usually dropped off by their parents. Heck, Santana's abuela drops her off to class. But anyway, Santana has a bike, and after reasoning with her abuela (citing increased leg power thereby translating to better performance in class), she is now allowed to bike to class.

If she can just time things right, she can, like, have a few minutes with pretty girl by the bike rack, before they go to class and those other idiots swarm around her.

That is a good plan. But then again, Santana kinda sucks at following through with her plans, and she ends up coming to class a good hour early, which she spent fretting by the bike rack. When her watch says it's nine o'clock, and the other kids have arrived, she reluctantly left the rack. She can't be late for class since their teacher is kinda strict about time and tends to pick on the latecomers.

She looks around once more and wonders if the pretty girl is sick.

/

Pretty girl isn't sick. Just late.

And she doesn't look bothered at all with the fact she's late. She's wearing a bright smile as she skips her way to class, putting down her pink backpack with floral print carefully at the corner before going to the dance area. And even if the teacher singled her out and made her do some of their exercises in front, solo, it only served to highlight her superior skills.

Even the teacher had to begrudgingly praise her.

If she's asked what they had learned In class that day, Santana will be hard-pressed for an answer. After all, she spent most of the time just staring at this girl—Pierce, she had learned her name was. Santana wonders what her first name is.

As she has already predicted, their classmates gather around Pierce during break and every available slack time. Santana waits for an opportunity but damn, those kids stick to Pierce's side like Epoxy super-stick glue. And what's worse is that it's pretty obvious that they don't really want to get to know Pierce better; they think that by praising her a bit, it qualifies them to be 'best friends forever and ever' with her. Hell, they aren't even listening to her carefully when she speaks. They'd cut her off every single time and segue to their own stories.

Santana sits by the corner, seething. But she has learned not to glare too obviously since she had caught one of them point at her and whisper among themselves. Probably warning each other not to get too close to her.

Her first thought was 'Damn right, bitches' followed closely by 'Oh shit, what if they warn her to stay away from me?' So she resolves to direct her glare at her PB&J.

"Here." A sandwich appears in front of her. When Santana looks up, she finds herself face-to-face with Pierce herself, all bright smile and sunshine. Santana just gaped at her like an idiot, her mouth hanging open.

"You seem pretty mad at your sandwich, so why don't we switch? I love PB&J. This one's ham and cheese, and I love it, too, but we can switch." When Santana still doesn't say anything, Pierce adds in an unsure tone, "If you want?"

Santana finally collects enough of her wits to nod.

"Great!" Pierce takes the already-bitten PB&J and replaces it with her own.

After regaining basic motor skills, Santana finds that her verbal communication skill is also coming back, so she clears her throat and says, "I'm Sa—"

"Hey B, come here! Take a look at this!"

"Okay!" Pierce turns back to Santana and smiles. "Thanks for the sandwich."

Santana can only blink in response. She doesn't eat the sandwich and instead she puts it in her bag with all the reverence to a sacred object.

/

After class, Pierce's posse disappears soon since their parents arrive promptly to pick them up. She usually stays a bit longer since she has to change out of her tutu and tights and into shorts. Santana tries to match Pierce's pace so when Pierce is finished changing and is going over to the bike rack, she hastens to follow her. But Santana's bike is locked at the opposite end, and as luck would have it, she fumbles with the lock so bad—she doesn't know if it's the nerves from the knowledge that she'll be able to finally talk to Pierce, or if it's just that she isn't that high up in God's book of dispensing good fortune—that when she finally frees her bike and looks up, Pierce is already gone.

/

Okay. Santana may not be a lot of things, like 'dainty little princess' for one, but she's someone who learns from her mistakes.

Well, not really. But she tries her best.

Anyway, she has figured out that going to class early doesn't work, so she resolves to just go to class late.

A capital idea, if she says so herself.

That Saturday, Santana left the house at the usual time (which is still quite early) but she biked around the block, killing time, instead of waiting by the rack again and look like a creepy idiot. When she sees that it's already 9:05 on her watch, she finishes the ride around the block and heads towards the studio.

She's late. She's late and she knows it and she doesn't care.

She stops by the bike rack and looks around. She should be coming in any second now.

…

…

…

Well, okay. Maybe Santana miscalculated. She gets off her bike and leans it against a tree and tries to sneak a look at the ongoing class through the window. Pierce is already there, dancing with the rest of them.

Oh.

So much for the capital idea.

Santana contemplates about biking away her embarrassment, but hey, Santana Lopez ain't no quitter. So she goes back to the bike rack and tried to guess which one is Pierce's.

After careful deductive reasoning, she concludes that the pink one with a weaved basket in front and sunflowers painted on the body was Pierce's. The design is pretty much the same one on her backpack, so.

Santana doesn't know what came over her, or why she even thought that it was a great idea at that time but—

She's gonna take her chances.

She goes to the studio, and she knows that she should be worried about getting scolded for being really late but all she can think of is what's going to happen after class.

/

Well then.

Their teacher had just delivered the sermon of the century and Santana's ears are still buzzing. Frankly though, she thinks that young as she is, she can cut that bitch down to size. Her abuela has taught her well and Santana doesn't disappoint. But going all Lima Heights on her dance teacher isn't gonna do her favors, and it might actually make Pierce think badly of her so all the while she was being scolded, she just bit her tongue.

But even after eight years of being bred on insults and disapproving looks, she still gets a little down when being told off. So she trudges towards the bike rack, forgetting for a moment what she had done earlier until she sees Pierce standing there, looking at her bike.

When Santana was near enough, Pierce looks up. "Is this your bike?"

Immediately, Santana's heartbeat speeds up and her breaths come in shallow gasps. She contemplates on a lie but yeah right, like she can weasel her way out of this one.

"Y-Yeah," she finally stutters out.

"It's locked to mine."

Santana swallows the lump in her throat. She racks her brain for an excuse, any excuse. But her mind conveniently decides to blank out at that moment so she just flushes in embarrassment.

"Hey," Pierce touches her wrist. "Are you all right?"

Santana nods dumbly. After taking a deep breath, she mutters, "Sorry."

"Nah, it's all right. Locks can be very confusing." Pierce bites her lip. "I actually don't know how to lock stuff."

Santana, who has been keeping her head down, looks up at her and then at her bike and sees that Pierce's bike isn't locked to the rack at all. No wonder it doesn't take her more than a second to leave every single time. She frowns. "Your bike might get stolen." The moment she said it, Santana thinks of how silly it sounds. Of course the habit of locking her bike came with living in Lima Heights, where if you don't pay close enough attention to your surroundings, you'll end up with not a stitch of clothing left on you.

But Pierce just smiles. "Then I guess you'll have to lock your bike to mine from now on." She holds out her hand. "I'm Brittany, by the way."

"Santana," she mumbles, discreetly wiping her palm on the side of her shorts before taking Brittany's hand.

"That's a really pretty name." Santana can't help but smile at the compliment. "Ooh! And you have really pretty dimples." Santana ducks her head in embarrassment, which earns her an airy laugh. "You're a shy one, aren't you?"

"You probably want to go home now," says Santana, in a lame attempt to cover up her lack of conversational skills. Wow, way to go, Santana. After all that trouble to have some time alone with her, she goes to drive her away. God, she really does suck at making plans. She bends over to unlock the bikes.

"No, not really." A pause. "Do you?"

The lock clicks and the bikes are free. Santana takes a deep breath before admitting, "No, not really."

"Do you want to go to the park and get some ice cream?" asks Brittany, her eyes lighting up.

"Sure."

/

Once on their bikes, Santana soon discovers how easy it is to keep pace with Brittany. Like she doesn't have to think too much about not going too fast or too slow. Like her body just instinctively knows how to act around her.

Too bad her brain and her mouth don't follow.

They spend the entire time it takes to get to the park in awkward silence. Well, for Santana, at least. Brittany doesn't seem to mind. In fact, she has been humming a tune to herself.

When they arrive at the ice cream parlor, Santana has come up with something to say, and as they wait for their ice cream cones, she blurts it out, "You're a really great dancer."

Which of course makes her want to kick herself. Really, Santana? Really? That's all you can think of saying?

But Brittany just smiles prettily and says, "Thank you. You dance pretty well, too. I think you just need to loosen up a little; teacher did say that dance is about freedom."

"Well, I never had much experience with either," she mutters without thinking.

Brittany looks at her curiously but thankfully, the ice cream man presented them with their cones. They decide to sit by the benches near the playground.

"Are you gonna be a dancer when you grow up?" Santana asks, partly out of curiosity and partly to ensure that the previous topic would be forgotten.

"Mmm, maybe." Brittany gives her ice cream a lick. "I also want to be an animal doctor and a weatherwoman."

Santana's brows raise. "Wow, that's a lot." Then after giving her ice cream a few licks, "Why weatherwoman?"

"So that I can warn people about floods. And sunshine."

"Sunshine?" Santana scrunches her nose in confusion. "Why would you have to warn them? Isn't that what everybody wishes for?"

Brittany shakes her head and Santana can't help but be caught up by the rays of sunlight making her hair even more golden. Yep, why would anyone have to be warned of that? But Brittany is speaking again and Santana snaps back to the conversation. "Not everybody's a sunflower; some are heffalumps."

"Heffalumps?"

Brittany nods solemnly. "Yeah. They get hot easily."

Santana thinks about this for a moment before a smile blooms in her face. She still doesn't get much about sunflowers and heffalumps, only that there are different people who have different temperaments and like different things. And that even so, they should be treated the in same way.

But more importantly, what Santana also gets is that Brittany Pierce is a smart person with a big heart.

"That makes sense."

Brittany looks at her carefully, her noon-sky-blue eyes darting between Santana's and on the smile still on her face. She smiles back. They finish their ice cream in companionable silence.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Brittany asks after a moment.

"Sure."

"I've been wanting to talk to you since forever but I didn't know how." Santana sputters in disbelief. "'Cause you frown all the time and sometimes I even catch you glaring at me."

"I-I wasn't—not at you—I—"

Brittany just smiles wider. "I know. I kinda figured that out when you let me swap sandwiches with you."

Santana furrows her brows. "Then why didn't you just talk to me then?"

"I don't know," says Brittany, shrugging her shoulders. Her smile turns into a Cheshire grin. "I guess it's because it looked like you had a plan figured out and I was curious to see what it was."

Santana's eyes widen. "All this time you knew?"

"Locking our bikes together was a really awesome idea." Santana just stares at her, still shell-shocked. Brittany turns to look at the playground, and starts humming. She wriggles her right hand closer to Santana's left and she carefully intertwines their little fingers together. Santana looks at their linked pinkies. Brittany lifts their hands together, her smile sly.

"If I knew how to work the locks, I'd have done the same thing."