Title: Living With Mrs Pierce

Pairing: Brittany/Santana

Rating: M for future chapters

Summary: A death in the family forces Brittany to go back to the hometown she promised to never return again. Warning: Character death.

Chapter 1

03:05 am. Chelsea, NY.

Brittany was suddenly awoken from her restless sleep, sweaty and panting. It was for the better, she thinks. Normally, she would be really pissed off if someone or something had awoken her so suddenly—a booty call, a hook-up who thinks she's being cute by going down on her so early, or another phone call from her mother nagging her for the millionth time to come and visit her.

She's a light sleeper and she values her sleep especially since she accepted directing the re-staging of Chicago which she had been working on for eight months now which is thankfully approaching its prime. Add that to managing and sometimes teaching at her own studio, 24 hours is not really enough. But being close to the premiere, she really hasn't slept a wink. It's rehearsal after rehearsal after rehearsal.

Then, of course, the whole rehearsal would be delayed due to some technical malfunctions or the props don't come out exactly how she envisioned them or one of her dancers collapses from exhaustion or she had to put her foot down when the producers suddenly decide to play director themselves. It's much hard work—harder than merely being a choreographer which is how she had started in this gig in the first place a couple of years back. But she loves it anyway.

Yes, it must be the exhaustion. She hadn't thought about Lima in a while. She hadn't thought about her. And it had been a year since she stopped dreaming about the same thing but she remembers everything vividly.

Brittany's sitting on her family's old living room couch then two blonde kids would enter through the foyer. She could recognize them immediately, her four-year old self following a nine-year old Quinn like a lost puppy. They would quickly disappear into the kitchen but the returning footsteps would bring her a sixteen-year old goddess instead, in her cheerio uniform but with her hair free from its usual tight ponytail. And much to her pleasure, the caramel skinned beauty would slowly slither towards her, biting her lower lip and giving her a sultry stare, and start removing her clothes one by one on the way. Brittany would grunt and pant heavily by then as she gets to scan each skin revealed to her sinful eyes. The girl would stop right in front of her, only in her exquisite lingerie and as she undoes the clasp in front of her bra, she would slowly lean to give her a better view of the treasure underneath. Brittany would hold her breathe, ready to pounce on the goddess right before her. But then the girl would say, not in what she expected was a sensual tone even for the girl's naturally rich, raspy voice, "Hey little girlie, what are you doing?"

Dumbfounded, she would assert, "I'm not a child anymore!"

The girl would only laugh, "But, of course you are. You're Quinnie's tiny little baby sister!"

"That doesn't even make any sense. It's redundant!"

"That's right you are a genius. Real smart for your age, honey boo boo," tapping her nose for emphasis. She'd feel insulted despite the still genuine smile on the girl's face.

She'd keep defending she's no longer a child but the girl, now suddenly fully clothed, would only laugh lightly and pamper her, giving her these giant children's toys and candies while a sixteen-year old Quinn would just laugh on the background.

Fortunately, Brittany would wake up before the girl's hands reach her heavily blushing cheeks and pinch them.

She looked at the time. 3:05 am. She really should have taken that sleeping pill. But for some reason she had now forgotten, she didn't even though she had the whole day cleared the next day. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands and cracked her bones. She couldn't sleep now. Not after that dream. She shuffled out of her queen-sized bed and made her way towards the kitchen, tapping the answering machine on her way to the coffee maker.

She half-listened to the six messages she got since yesterday as she waited for her coffee. She already had a vague idea of who would be calling her.

Her mind was still reeling from the dream she had. She had a perfect life here in Chelsea, she wouldn't trade it for the world even though she could now afford an apartment uptown. She lives in a suburban neighbourhood—just like in Lima, she thought idly. The people are friendly and open-minded and they treat each other as if they had known each other for a long time—like back home. She especially loved the small coffee shop around the corner from her apartment—I wonder if Breadstix and The Lima Bean are still up. Come to think of it, a lot of the things that drew her to Chelsea were the same things she loved about Lima.

But here, there is no her.

Brittany mentally face-palmed herself. She really thought she was over her. It was just a stupid stupid crush, nothing more, she told herself for the millionth time, willing herself to believe it. I mean how pathetic could you be to still be pining over your sick sister's wife? She's really a despicable human being. It doesn't get any lower than this.

"Hello Brittany, this is Rachel Barbra Berry… again… I know you said you would be busy, but would it hurt for you to call me back at least once?"

It does get lower than that, she grumbled to herself at the sudden reminder.

"I mean, I thought we had a connection! You're the only girl…"

Rachel was one of the two mistakes in her life she had really regretted, the first one obviously, was falling in love with her sister's then-girlfriend, now-wife—which wasn't really that obvious since it's not like she had a choice on that matter.

She could get any girl she wanted but that one time she had drunk way past her alcohol limit and thought it would be fun to go for someone different than her usual type. I mean, she could have gone for another blonde or even a bald girl with an inverted cross tattoo on her head, but no, her drunk in its ass mind thought it would be more fun to go for the geeky, uptight, animal sweater-wearing child-lady who kept insisting she is straight even while they were doing it. And now she had to live with the consequences of that one lapse of judgement on a daily basis. Like, forever. She cringed.

"Brittany, it's mom..."

"Here we go again…" she whined to the machine. God knows she loves her mom. She had supported her and loved her and cared for her and her siblings for eighteen years and she very much appreciate that. She would have not hesitated talking to her if she would have just left her alone and have not kept guilt-tripping her on going back to Lima.

"…your sister's still not doing well. I know she would appreciate it very much if you visit her at the hospital…"

She sighed. Quinn and Brittany had been calling each other a couple of times for updates on their lives. Her sister knew she is busy with her show and all and Quinn was very proud of her. And even though Brittany would feel a slight pang of jealousy and her heart breaks a little bit more to mere dust whenever Quinn would mention her wife and their kids, she just let her.

She can hear the pride and love in her older sister's voice whenever she talks about her family and Brittany wonders if she would ever find her own true love. Someone, hopefully, like her. Someone she could finally call hers and someone who would be happy to be hers in return. Someone who would love her back as much as she loved them. And hopefully, that someone is not yet married. Particularly not to any of her siblings.

"Brittany, this is Rachel… again! For heaven's sake, I know you're screening your phone because of me…"

"Yeah, because everything revolves around you," she mocked as she poured herself a cup of the already made coffee.

"I had never, ever, been so furious with anyone in my life! I hope you're lying in your deathbed like you said you were because that's the only reason I could think of of why you couldn't pick your phone up and call me. Because quite frankly, I'm a great catch!"

Brittany snorted to her mug on being reminded of the blatant lie she had told the woman. The other messages were not so hilarious or eventful after that. It was either work-related or invitations for drinks from her co-workers and past flings.

She was about to head out for a jog when the phone rings. It was only half-past three. Who could possibly want to ring her this early? She decided to let the machine take it and wait it out to see who was desperate enough to talk to her at this time.

"Brittany, it's mom. I really hope you'd pick your phone up this time because I really …"

Brittany could hear the misery and desperation in her voice. Oh god. Without thinking twice and wasting another second, she picked up the phone.

"Mom, what's wrong? Are you okay?" her heart was pounding as she waited for her mom to gather another burst of strength to talk further.

"Sh-she's go-o-one…" Elena's voice was so broken.

No, no, this cannot happen. She can't be… Not my sister, no. Her sister had assured her many times that she was doing fine and that their mom was just being her usual over-protective and paranoid self. That she would soon be released from the hospital and that Brittany needed not bother to visit her knowing she had a lot on her plate. "It was just a standard check-up to see if all the cancerous cells had been taken out completely," Quinn had sworn to her when she offered to visit her for a couple of days.

"W-what…" Brittany's mind was still reeling thinking of other possible ways her mom could have meant that statement. "What do you mean?"

"She's gone, Brittany" she just repeated.

The hand holding the phone to her ear had been trembling so badly by then that she had to lean to the counter on her elbows for support.

"I- I- I don't understand, mom… W-who… who's gone?" She really didn't understand. She was fine. She had just talked to Quinn a couple of days ago.

"Your sister…" Elena's voice was pleading—pleading for her daughter to understand soon because she doesn't know how long she could talk about her first-born's death without completely breaking down.

And for the first time, without any hesitation and any thoughts of her, she finally told her mother the one thing her mother wanted from her for seven years now, the same thing she had successfully avoided on doing until now.

"I'm coming home."


A/N: And there you have it. It's a Brittana story, don't worry.