Shelter
Part One
Chapter Three: I've Been Waiting
Ships: Brittana, minor Quick with Sam/Brittany, Puck/Brittany, Santofsky, Quinntana friendships.
Summary: The only thing worse than being reaped is volunteering for someone you love. Because then they have something to use against you. Brittany and Santana learn that the hard way.
Other: This is a Hunger Games AU. Every chapter will be named after a line from a Glee song with contextual or sometimes more literal relevance to the chapter.
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or The Hunger Games.
Santana lowered her lips onto the soft, pale skin of Brittany
's neck from her position on top of Brittany. Santana placed wet, open-mouthed kisses down her neck and when Brittany's head sank back into the pillows, she moved across her protruding collarbone. She playfully bit at the bone, a place that she always found ridiculously sexy. Brittany squealed and Santana laughed softly against Brittany's bone.
"Shh," Santana tried to quiet the blonde. She blew against the wet spot that she made on Brittany's skin, making the tiny hairs on the back on Brittany's head stand.
Brittany made a cute grunting noise, agreeing to Santana's command. Santana's hands slid from Brittany's waist upwards, bringing Brittany's tank top over a taut, muscular stomach and full, supple breasts. She pulled away from kissing at Brittany's skin to pull the top over Brittany's head and then carelessly threw it over her shoulder, not caring where it landed. Santana began to playfully nip and lick at the area around Brittany's right armpit and Brittany didn't even attempt to conceal her moan.
"I love your sweet lady kisses," Brittany sighed, breathily. "Especially when you make out with my armpits. It's super hot."
"Yeah," Santana said as she moved up to Brittany's lips, hovering mere centimetres above them. "And how do you like this?"
Brittany frantically shot up from her previously lying position into a seated one. She pushed loose strands of tiny blonde hairs from the front of her eyes and sighed deeply. She felt a slight aching between her legs and, remembering her dream, her pale cheeks flushed a bright pink immediately.
Trying to erase the alluring thoughts of Santana's pouty lips from her mind, she took a moment to assess her surroundings. She was sitting on a large bed, bigger than any she had ever seen. Her hands were holding her up at the edge of what looked like very expensive pillows and a large duvet was pooled around her legs. She pushed the blanket off of her and swung her legs off the bed. She stood and began to investigate the unfamiliar room she had woken up in.
The walls of the room were a dark, stained reddish wood and the few shelves around the world, adorning various books Brittany had never seen before, matched the finish. There was a burgundy three-seat couch in one corner of the room and a matching burgundy armchair in the other corner. Parallel from the bed, was a mirror mounted on the wall and on the dark red carpet in front of it, lay a large duffel bag that Brittany recognized as her father's and her messenger bag that she would wear out.
Out of the small window to her right, Brittany saw a fast-moving landscape of green grass and trees. It was then that she realized where she was. She was on the train on her way to the Capitol. But Brittany couldn't remember getting on the train. In fact, she couldn't remember anything after the Reaping. She immediately began to panic, wondering where her family was and if Sam and Stacey were okay. Did they even get to say goodbye?
Brittany kneeled in front of the mirror and unzipped the duffel bag. Inside it, she found piles of her clothes from back home. She dug through the bag, feeling around. She pulled out a large ratty grey t-shirt, one that every child in her class had made in the sixth grade. She pressed it to her cheek, revelling in the comfort that the familiar feeling gave her, before dragging it to her nose and inhaling the homey scent of oranges and sea salt. Suddenly, the door to her room slid open and Brittany jumped in shock. She sat back on her heels as Puck's familiar mohawked head appeared in her doorway.
"You're finally awake," he observed. She opened her mouth to speak, but her throat was dry and voice cracked. Puck pulled a canteen of water from his rather oversized pocket and tossed it to Brittany, who gulped down the water and nodded in appreciation. She lowered the canteen from her lips, screwed the cap on and handed it back to Puck, standing straight. "It's my turn to check up on you. We mostly just check your pulse and your breathing every few hours."
"What happened to me?" Brittany croaked.
"The crowd went in a frenzy after you volunteered yourself. We were all escorted to somewhere safe and they sedated you for your safety. Your family got to say bye and stuff, but you were passed out." Puck informed her, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.
"Why was I sedated?" Brittany asked.
"Yeah, there was kind of a mini riot," Puck responded. "You're really popular in the district, you know. Everyone loves you and no one thought you should've volunteered after…"
"Oh," Brittany said, understanding clearly. "Has, uh, Santana been to check up on me?"
"No one knows where she is. Dave and Mags said not to worry so…" Puck trailed off, not sure whether to continue with his thoughts or spare Brittany's feelings. He chose the latter. Brittany fell silent, thinking about what Santana could be doing. Her running imagination jumped to the worst conclusions that Brittany could possibly think of.
"Do you, uhm," Puck stammered, nervous of the intent of his question. "Do you guys still talk?"
"No." Brittany shook her head. "Not a word since she was in the Games."
Puck was at a loss. He simply didn't know what or how to respond. Fortunately, he was saved, as Dave and Mags stepped into the room.
"Nice to see you vertical, Brittany. I'm David." Dave said, clearing his throat. He stuck his hand out in Brittany's direction. Brittany took his large hand and shook his hand, firmly yet awkwardly.
"And I'm Mags," the older woman smiled kindly. "We'll be your mentors for the Games and-"
"Sorry," Puck interrupted the woman and all three pairs of eyes were on him. "But where's Santana? She's our mentor, too, right?"
Brittany internally thanked Puck for answering the question that had been stuck in her head.
"She'll be along," Mags said vaguely, but with a standing finality so Puck didn't ask any other questions.
"So as Mags was saying," Dave steered away from the topic of Santana. "We'll be your mentors. We'll be helping you so that you can survive in the arena among other things."
"What other things?" Brittany spoke for the first time in the presence of Dave and Mags.
"The interviews," Mags informed. "They're almost as terrifying in the Games. How you portray yourself in the interviews and pre-Games events will ultimately decide if you get any sponsors and sponsors are integral for-"
A loud crash sounded outside the room followed by various voices speaking in a hushed tone. Mags and Dave shared a knowing look. Mags excused herself from the room and went into the hallway, sliding the door shut behind her. Dave looked at the closed door and back to Puck and Brittany.
"So-" Dave tried to begin but was interrupted by two voices, arguing from behind the door. The door slid open and Santana stumbled in. Mags was right behind her, trying to keep her standing but Santana just pushed off her insistent arms.
"The fuck is happening?" Santana slurred drunkenly. She moved past Brittany, Puck and a disappointed-looking Dave and fell face first onto the bed. She curled up in a small ball, grabbed one of the thick pillows and trapped it between her legs.
"Santana," Dave chided, calmly. "You shouldn't be here right now."
"This is my room and it's always my room, so everyone else can fuck off," If Santana was sober, the statement probably would've been a little bit intimidating. An icy stare and the right intonation would have anyone backing off.
"Santana!" Mags exclaimed, suddenly angered at Santana's word use.
"I do what I wants," Santana mumbled, pressing her face into the thick comforter.
"Okay, why don't we move into the hallway?" Dave suggested. Puck slid the compartment door open and stepped out into the hallway. Brittany followed blankly, confused at Santana's state.
"I'm sorry about that but-"
"Does that happen often?" Puck spoke boldly, knowing it was for both himself and Brittany. "Just wondering."
Dave sighed heavily and pushed the thin brown hairs out of his eyes. He crossed his arms over his chest, leaned onto the compartment door and stared through the small circular window into the room. He seemed to be watching the two women inside.
"Look, things are complicated, okay. You guys wouldn't understand but it's tough doing what we do. It's not easy. I know that everyone thinks we just sit around the house drinking and eating and buying whatever we want and stuff, but we suffer. Santana has a way of responding to the difficulties we face, and that's it," Dave looked at Puck and Brittany with a sense of finality and turned to leave.
He started walking down the long hallway towards his own room when Puck spoke up again, stopping him in his tracks.
"I used to know her, you know, Dave. She used to be really strong. The old Santana was brave and didn't care what anyone said or did. That was the best part about her."
"You may have known her before," Dave suddenly seemed very intimidating. He seemed ten feet taller than his already very tall stature and his eyes took on a different quality than the one that the two young Tributes had become accustomed to seeing. "but you have no idea who she is now and you have no idea how much she has suffered. Maybe if you did you'd understand why she wasn't as brazen as she used to be."
Puck was stunned into a silent submission. He backed away from Dave immediately and when Dave walked away, Brittany felt her heart pounding against her ribcage. They didn't dare to even look at each other because they knew what the other was thinking. The had just met the boy that they had only seen on television. The instinctual, animalistic, fierce, killing Dave.
It was only when both Puck and Dave had left Brittany alone in the hallway that she realized that she had nowhere to go. She didn't know where Puck's room was and she didn't know if Mags and Santana were out of her room yet, so she walked. She walked and she wandered along the train, looking in different compartments for somewhere to sit and maybe even sleep, but all were full of bags, boxes and other auspicious looking materials.
Brittany sighed, tired of wandering and leaned her head back against the wall before sliding her back down so that she was sitting. She stretched out her long, lithe legs and yawned. Her eyes began to close, slowly. Her head gently fell forward and suddenly Brittany was asleep.
There was a thin sheen of sweat on Brittany's slick, pale skin. Her chest was heaving and despite the fact that she felt like her body was on fire, there were tiny goosebumps running along her arms and back. Her hair was splayed out messily on the soft white bed sheets underneath her head. She was breathing heavily between deep, throaty moans and higher pitched whimpers. Her legs were spread out on the bed beneath her and she was grateful because she knew that if she was standing, her knees would probably buckle. She let out another low moan and her hands that were previously gripping the sheets to her sides, reached downwards towards that gorgeous head of dark, soft hair between her legs. She tangled her long fingers in luscious black locks and tugged gently.
"San, I'm gonna c-"
"Uhm, what the hell are you doing here?"
Brittany's head snapped up immediately and she pushed off the wooden floor to her feet, reluctantly. She knew whoever had found her could see the look on her face was full of guilt (she had always been easy to read), but she only wished that they didn't notice the red flush to her cheeks or the way her pupils were the size of small planets. She was greeted with the sight of a tall-ish, but thin male who probably was a man, but looked more like a boy. He had pale skin and blue eyes, both of which were even lighter than Brittany's, and brown hair that was sort of swept back and to the left.
"I'm Brittany," she lamely stuck out her hand and with a quirk of an eyebrow, he took it and shook it firmly.
"Kurt," he said primly. "And I'm not supposed to say, but I'm going to be your stylist."
Brittany nodded understanding and caught Kurt's line of sight as he trailed down her long body, assessing her choice of clothing. Brittany looked down at her loose grey track pants and plain dark blue shirt and back up to Kurt, with a grim smile, apologizing for her wardrobe choice.
"I just woke up," she explained and he laughed, making her smile. She had always loved making people laugh.
"Well, don't worry. You have an excellent form and overall body structure along with natural beauty," Kurt clapped his hands together and widened his eyes, excitedly. "We're going to have a lot of fun together."
The door to the right of the pair opened and revealed a short, stout man, who Brittany assumed to be a chef because of his uniform, stepped out into the hallway carrying a covered silver platter.
"Ah, hello Mister Kurt," the man drawled in an unfamiliar accent.
"Hello," Kurt greeted. "Is that lunch?"
"No sir," the man shook his head and clacked his tongue. "It's for Miss Santana."
"Ah, I see," Kurt breathed out and frowned slightly, looking at the shiny silver platter. "Do you want me to take it to her?"
"No no no, Mister Kurt, I would never," the chef clacked his tongue and forlornly made his way down the hall, away from Brittany and Kurt. The pair watched the short man carefully manoeuvre through the hallway and when he was far enough away, Kurt turned back to Brittany.
"It's really shame," he lamented. "Santana truly is very beautiful. Naturally, too. And once you get passed the whole attitude thing, she's an okay person."
"I know," Brittany nodded.
Kurt span around and re-entered his cabin. Brittany stood outside, her eyes shifting, because she wasn't sure if or why Kurt had dismissed her. He looked at her expectantly and she quickly shuffled into the room. She watched as Kurt walked over to a large door similar looking to the one she entered. He pulled the door aside and Brittany saw more clothes than she'd ever owned in her entire life.
"Did you used to know Santana? You guys are the same age, you know," Kurt scanned the closet, pulling out various outfits. He held each one in the air so that he could imagine how each would appear on the blonde's frame.
"She was my best friend," Brittany smiled nostalgically. Kurt's electric blue eyes snapped to Brittany's, silently requesting an explanation. She wasn't sure why she trusted Kurt to speak more about it, but something about Kurt comforted Brittany.
"And?" Kurt placed the shirt he had been looking at on the wooden hangar, placed it on the rail in the closet and sat on his bed, suddenly very interested. Brittany copied his movements, and sat, cross-legged on Kurt's bed.
"When we were fourteen," Brittany started nervously, still a little bit unsure about sharing. "I was reaped."
"No!" Kurt gasped, his eyes widening in horror. "Wait, you are the reason that she volunteered that young?"
"I guess so. But she hasn't spoken a word to me since," Brittany was suddenly very interested in the stitching pattern of Kurt's comforter. Kurt's hand held Brittany's loosely and Brittany remembered thinking that Kurt's hands felt as soft as a baby.
Kurt opened his mouth, ready to provide an ample explanation. An explanation that he could tell Brittany had surely been waiting years for. Brittany sensed that he was about to speak and looked into his cool blue eyes. But he faltered. He couldn't . It wasn't his place. Instead, he slunk an arm around Brittany's shoulder and rubbed it comfortingly. She had waited years for an explanation. It seemed like she would have to wait a little bit longer.
I thank everyone who has been reviewing because they really motivate me. I've private messaged anyone who has reviewed under a username, so I'd like to just take this time to say thank you to the anonymous reviewers as well. It really means a lot. Anyways, even though I know this chapter wasn't the greatest, I'd still love to know your thoughts on it and where you think the story is going.
So, I'm taking some elements of the different stories from the character's of the Hunger Games and adding them into the story to make it more interesting. I'm obviously using Katniss for Brittany, but if anyone wants to know some guess some future details of the story, I will tell you that elements of Finnick and Johanna are making up Santana's back story. That's all I'm giving you guys for now, but I'd love to hear some guesses on what I mean by that.