Title: Your Little Game
Chapter Rating: M
Pairing: Santana/Brittany [Brittana]
Word Count: 2,352
Setting: New York City
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.
Santana flicked through the channels on her tv aimlessly. She had spent the past hour doing this- laying on the couch lazily while making no promise of being productive.
It was the day after her fight with Brittany, and she had called into work claiming to be 'ill'. Which, technically, she was. Emotionally. Mentally. Toxic thoughts would invade her mind every time she wasn't focused on something. Hence the tv.
However, the tv didn't seem to be helping at all. In fact, all it did was remind her of how normally she and Brittany would be out together on a day like this.
She groaned, giving up and flicking off what was currently on- the weather channel. She then let the remote fall to the floor as she hung her head back, and swung her arm over her eyes. Last night had been spent with crazy dreams of the blonde, which needless to say, didn't allow Santana to get a good night's sleep. Everything from Finn yelling at her, to Brittany making out with Quinn in front of her. Although the latter was completely unrealistic, Santana still found herself growing a new dislike for miss Quinn Fabray.
It was right after that particular dream when she found herself waking up, swearing to god that she was in the middle of a panic attack. Her heart had felt like it was going triple time, and blood pounded in her ears. Why did it have to be Quinn? Why couldn't it have been that guy from the club? At least that way Santana could have calmed herself down with the reality of the situation. But with Quinn... for all she knew, Quinn was at Brittany's right now. Her mind quickly avoided the small detail that she didn't even know what sexuality Quinn was.
Santana had wiped the small amount of sweat that had gathered on her forehead with the back of her hands. If this was what being with Brittany meant, than she wasn't too sure if it was worth it. That was when she was reminded of their fight, her conscious mocking her.
Almost immediately, Santana not-so-kindly told her conscious where it could go.
She sat up on the couch, becoming more and more frustrated by the minute. Maybe she should go apologize. No. This wasn't her fault. She didn't do anything wrong. Brittany was the one who had to run off and tell Finn about them. If it wasn't for that, everything would be fine. So, no. She would wait for Brittany to apologize first.
Looking through the window, she saw that it was noticeably darker outside. Matching moods, she thought bitterly. It seemed late enough that she could make dinner, and, although she wouldn't admit it, there were undeniable hunger pangs from not bothering to fix herself something earlier.
In the end, she'd chosen spaghetti for two, and had eaten both servings out of spite more than anything else. It was while cleaning up when her phone rang.
Checking the Caller ID, Santana saw that it was Quinn.
Stupid Quinn.
Cockblock Quinn.
Although the latter insult didn't completely make sense, it was good enough for her. Before her mind could come up with any more- interesting, insults to stick before Quinn's name, Santana growled to herself. Maybe she should turn in early for the night.
"Santana Lopez. Pick up the phone right now. I know you're there. What did you do to Brittany?" The answering machine barked at her.
"I'm a shark. Suck my imaginary dick, Quinn Fabgay." Santana spoke aloud to no one in particular. However, the shark comment had only reminded her of something Brittany had told her awhile ago. Something about dolphins being gay sharks. Immediately, she groaned. Yeah, Santana definitely need to go to sleep.
The next day Santana had decided to go into work. She probably could have gotten away with another day off, but didn't want to face the afternoon alone yet again. When she had finished work, she got herself a coffee and sat at one of the tables in the corner of the room.
She had been happy that she was given an employee's discount on her purchases, just like Will had said she would, but even happier that it was now giving her an excuse to prolong her stay out of her apartment. It was a few minutes into flipping through a magazine when Santana heard someone approaching.
"Well, look who's peeked their head out of the shire." She commented, looking up to see one Blaine Anderson standing before her.
"Mind if I join you? He asked. He was holding his own coffee, but it looked like it was weighing him down more than anything else.
"... Fine." Taking her bag off of the table, she reluctantly made room for him to sit.
"So, how have you been?"
"What do you want?"
Blaine took in a breath, "I heard about you and Brittany."
"Well, if you heard about us, you would know that there isn't a 'Brittany and I.'"
"She-"
"Look, I don't want to talk about it, okay?" Santana snapped, cutting him off.
"Okay... then, how are you?"
"If Brittany wants to run around, parading her love for women, then fine with me. Let her. But I won't be joining in on your little 'gay pride squad'. Anyway, it's not like I even miss her."
Lies. They were all lies. Just flowing out of her mouth, one after the other. Santana did miss her. She didn't want Brittany to have affections for anyone else, but if that meant coming out as a lesbian - assuming that's what she was - than Santana wasn't sure if she could to that."
"Oh really?
"Yes, really."
"I think you're lying." He raised an eyebrow at her, and took a sip of his coffee.
"Now why on earth would you think that?"
"Because I didn't ask you about Brittany."
Looking down, she paused. "Why did you come here?"
"I told you, I heard about you and Brittany."
"So? That doesn't mean you needed to come to see me. You're closer with Brittany than you are with me."
"I thought you might like someone to talk to, or maybe some advice if you needed it. I mean, Brittany is devastated."
"She'll get over it." Santana shrugged. She'll get over me.
"I don't know about that."
That was when she looked up, her voice suddenly defensive again. "And what would you suggest then, oh wise one?"
"Look, Santana. I know that we might now know each other very well, you said so yourself. I am closer with Brittany, but I'm only trying to help."
When she didn't reply, Blaine spoke again.
"I can tell that you care about her, and she cares about you, too. You're probably scared about the future. About coming out. We've all been there, and god knows I have too. But, you can't let your fears run your life for you. Sometimes, you just have to go after what you want, and not second guess it."
"Shit. You're like a queer Doctor Phil."
He smirked, not trying to hide the fact that he was holding back a small laugh, "Well, I try."
It wasn't long after that when Blaine left, claiming he had some plans with Kurt. She knew he was lying, just looking for an excuse to leave before things got too awkward for the both of them, but accepted his goodbye without questions.
Deciding to make her way home, the trip was surprisingly fast. Entering her apartment and flicking on the lights, it was already evening. Her head was full of thoughts about what to do about Brittany as she took a seat at the small table in what was deemed as the 'dining area'. Maybe she should go see her. Most of what Blaine had said was right, even if Santana was reluctant to admit it. She was scared. She didn't want other people to know about her and Brittany because that would involve coming out, and facing the inevitable conversations and feelings.
Feelings.
That was what had seemed to get her in this mess from the start. Yes, she had feelings for Brittany. She had acted on those feelings, and it had screwed everything up. First, she was acting on feeling for Brittany, then on feelings of fear.
"You can't let fear run your life for you." She told herself, quoting what Blaine had said to her. Standing up, she looked over at the calendar. It was Wednesday, surely Brittany would be home by now. She tried to remember any plans she had been told about. Nothing, except... Lord Tubbington.
Lord Tubbington had a vet appointment, which she was supposed to go to. Well, shit. She knew how much that had meant to Brittany and she had just forgotten about it. Grabbing her keys, Santana quickly left the apartment and ran outside.
Brittany's house wasn't too far away, she could easily get there on foot, but she would need to run to get there soon.
By the time Santana arrived at Brittany's, she was panted for breath, and it was significantly dark out. The street lights weren't much help to her when she fell a few times. She knew that she probably looked insane to other people on the street, running around for no reason, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was getting to Brittany's.
When she walked up to the front door, and knocked, she noticed that there wasn't a car in the driveway. However, there was a voice calling from the outside to come in.
Opening the door, she looked around for some sort of life, "Britt?" She walked into the kitchen, hoping that Brittany would be there. She was relieved to see a blonde head sitting down, but her relief was squashed when she saw it that it was only Quinn.
"What are you doing here?" Quinn demanded, suddenly standing up and walking to Santana.
"I'm here to see Brittany."
"Oh, no you're not."
"Really? Because I think I am."
Do you realize what you've done to her? How upset she's been since you snapped at her?"
"Ladies." In a moment, Rachel was at both of their sides. Just great, another person to deal with. "Santana, it's nice to see you again. And, although I admire your courage to take on the wrath of what has became Hurricane Quinn, I think it would be best for everyone if you left."
"I came to apologize." Santana said through clenched teeth, not taking her eyes off of the blonde.
"Still, I really thin-"
"It's fine, Rachel." A voice came from the other room. Brittany's voice. Santana could swear that in that moment, Medusa's head and who knew what else, had occupied her stomach. "You two can go, I'll be okay."
"Fine." Quinn grumbled, and let herself be lead by the loud girl out of the house, but not before shooting Santana another glare.
It took a bit, but finally there was a sniffle, and Brittany spoke out again. "I'm in the living room."
Quickly stepping through the hall, Santana followed the voice to find Brittany curled up in the corner of the couch. Her eyes were tinted red, and Santana could see her gripping the pillow tightly.
"Hey." She whispered, walking in and sitting on the other end of the piece of furniture.
"Hi..."
"I came to say sorry."
"You should probably know that Quinn threatened to strangle you before you came."
"I wouldn't doubt it." She muttered, sitting back into the couch, and crossing on leg over the other.
"What are you sorry for?"
"For reacting how I did about you telling Finn. For getting angry at you. For not telling you about the whole 'feelings' thing... I'm so sorry."
"You really hurt me Santana."
She tried to keep her face composed at the fact that Brittany had said her name, and not her nickname. "I know, and I shouldn't have. I was scared of other people finding out, because I was ashamed. But, I don't need to be ashamed of you. It was wrong to take it out on you and I'm sorry."
"..."
"Do you think you can forgive me?"
Brittany gave a small nod, and smiled slightly. She sat up, and moved closer to pull Santana in for a tight hug. "What made you change your mind?" She asked quietly into her ear.
She pulled away to answer, "Blaine talked to me earlier."
"Blaine's really nice. He's like, a gay Yoda."
Santana gave a small laugh, before kissing her on the cheek. "Yeah, I guess he is."
"... I really missed you, San." Brittany said, holding her hand.
"I missed you, too."
A/N: New chapter :D Just to give a heads up, I start school next week, so I'm going to try to update as often as I can, but if it takes a little bit longer than usual that's why. Please review :)
