As promised chapter 9 is up (and it's also longer than my standard chapter wich I think might be aplus, right?). I felt like I negletted one of my favorite characters, Santana (and doing so I negletted Brittana too) so, you know, this time they're both back and they will have a major role in the next few chapters as well as in the end, but that's far ahead...
Hope you enjoy, and if you have time let me know what you think!
Santana tuned off the radio in her car. The constant voice of the speaker and some random singers were distracting her from her rage and worries and she didn't want that. She wanted to be angry, although she didn't know at whom to direct her anger.
Should it be Brittany? Maybe. And it would have been fair since it was all her fault, right? Her fingers clenched around the wheel and someone honked at her. She politely told him to go fuck himself sideways.
That morning started in the most wonderful way. Brittany was sleeping by her side, hugging her, and she had this quizzical look on her face as she was dreaming one of her crazy dreams. She was stunning, innocent, and funny even while she was sleeping; she was the only thing she wanted in the whole world, the one she loved more than her own life, the one she always loved. Her one true soul mate.
Since Quinn's claiming Santana though a lot. There were no obstacles anymore in the way of her claiming Britt and she really wanted to make it official. It was just a matter of time and place now, because she wanted to do it in a very special way. But on that morning, seeing her girlfriend like that, all her plans vanished: she wanted Brittany to be hers as soon as possible, and screw the fancy details.
As soon as she made the decision she was barely able to contain herself. She was so happy, and so relieved, that she actually smiled all the way through her breakfast.
"Are you sure you're ok San? You look stoned."
"Sort of, I guess." She murmured sipping her coffee.
"What?"
"Nothing sweetie, I just had a funny dream."
"Really? Me too. There was a beautiful city underwater, but there weren't fishes or mermaids, just regular people who breathed through a piece of paper in front of their mouth, and I could see their lips moving, but I couldn't understand if they were breathing or talking to me." Brittany dipped her biscuit into her latte. "What about yours?"
"I'll tell you later, ok? I need to go out now." She kissed her girlfriend and took her car keys.
"Oh, San, don't forget to buy biscuits, please. I've finished them again."
"I'll buy enough biscuits to last you a lifetime, sweetie." Santana said closing the door, headed for her car.
She sang along with the radio all the way to the Claiming Office. She knew she could just send in the papers but she wanted to do it in person so she could have one of her chit chats with the employee, and speed things up considerably. But that's when a day so perfect took a turn for the worst.
Maybe it was not Brittany's fault, not entirely at least.
It was that reckless employee too, who was careless and let the screen turned halfway towards Santana, letting her see the records for Brittany's claims. There was the first one, Andrew was his name; he was the guy who tried to claim her Britt as soon as she was available. Not that he was interested in her, it was just because of a stupid bet he had with his friends.
"It was nothing!" Brittany explained to her more than once. "He's a nice guy, it looked more like a date than anything else. He was nervous and I kissed him goodbye in the end. That's it San, come on, don't be jealous."
Santana looked him up anyway. She wanted to see who had the guts to try claiming her girlfriend, but when she finally found him she knew immediately that Brittany was right. He was the gayest gay ever: no threats there, and she left him without even having to beat the hell out of him.
The second entry was anoder known name: Brad. He tried to claim her at the end of their two years, the period when dominants and submissives that have previously known each other were not supposed to meet or have any kind of contact. At that time she had no rights at all over Brittany, she wasn't even supposed to see her, so she couldn't pretend to keep other dominants away, but they made it through two years without any 'accidents' and she thought they could really make it. Until Brad showed up.
He saw B when she was working as a teacher in a kindergarten. He asked her out but she refused, so he asked for a claim.
He was not a nice guy.
When Santana went to meet Brittany a few days after that, the blonde girl was a nervous wreck. It took some effort but she finally had Britt open up to her and talk about what happened during the claim.
"I'm going to kill him."
"No, you're not." Brittany approached her. "Please, don't make me regret telling you. Please." She was begging now, her eyes filled with tears. Santana was on the verge of crying herself and she held them back just because she knew it would break Britt for good.
She never told Brittany what she did after that. She never told her how she tracked down Brad and hit his car with her own at a crossroad, dragged him out of it t and pulled his pants down, placing a sharp knife to his exposed groin.
"What the fuck?"
She hit him once, while he was still confused, and then she pressed the knife again to his balls.
"Take the money, the car, whatever you want," he said, "but leave me alone."
"I want the cock that raped my girlfriend," she hissed into his ear. "My beautiful, innocent, positive, girlfriend, who you tried to claim a few days ago and raped because she turned you down on a date."
"You're crazy, I didn't rape anyone! She's just a fucking slave and I had a regular claim, I didn't do anyth..."
Santana punched him into his side. "Don't you dare give me that slave crap! You're not a dominant, you're just a dickhead, you're not worthy of even licking her feet!"
She was onto him, pressing his body so that his back was arched on the car.
Santana Lopez was never afraid to take things to the physical level. She had her fair share of fights and brawls and was known for never backing off but, despite her reputation, Santana always knew where the limit was and she always knew how to keep control, allowing herself to go just as far as she could, just right up to the line, but never crossing it. Except that one time she felt like she was loosing it, her mind dark and clouded with rage
"You're a crazy bitch."
"You don't even know the half of it." She pressed the knife at the base of his cock.
"I-I will report you."
"No, you won't, and you know why?" She pressed down on the knife even more cutting his skin and making him wince. "Because I have friends, and if you do as much as walk into a reporting facility I will know it the moment you step in and I'll make sure that you won't step out of it the same way. Do you understand me?"
"You're nuts!"
"I am, but I'm also a very coherent person, and I keep all my promises, dickhead, so listen carefully, because I'm promising you this: go near my girl ever again and I will cut off your useless worm and make you eat it, I will shove it down your throat and then sit watching you bleed to death."
The message sank in and spread widely where it needed. Nobody approached Britt ever again, or at least that's what Santana thought until that morning.
Because there was a third line, and the claiming took place just six month before.
She drove to Quinn and Rachel's place because she needed her best friend. She didn't have a plan, she didn't expect any answer or deep insight, she just wanted Quinn to know and maybe tell her she was being a jealous moron and everything was going to be fine.
She wasn't mad about the claiming attempt itself, well, she was mad at the idea of someone else laying his hands on her girlfriend, but what angered her the most was that she didn't know anything about it. Why didn't Brittany tell her?
She was trying to recall the time period of the claim. She was busy, having to deal with a couple of clients with tax problems, the files of a starting enterprise and the usual stuff and, of course, the constant Quinn-problem.
Could it have been that it slipped through her fingers without her even noticing it? Could Britt have had a claiming without her even realizing she was gone for a whole day?
When she entered the house she immediately sensed something was off. It was too silent.
In Rachel Berry's home silence was not a considered option unless there was an extremely serious situation going on or if it was bed time, of course. But when she arrived it was mid morning, so there was just one possible explanation: troubles.
She walked through the hallway, calling Quinn and Rachel's names and getting no answer back. More and more worried she walked through the kitchen into the garden, through the back door, and there she found Quinn, sitting on a bench, chin resting on her knee as she hugged her leg.
"Your house get scary when it's silent, you know that?"
Quinn turned around more surprised by the use of the possessive adjective than by Santana's voice. She never thought about that place like her home. In her mind that was always Rachel's house, merely a place where she happened to crash.
"Where is the dwarf anyway?"
"I don't know."
"Is she at work?"
"I said I don't know San!" Quinn repeated a little louder.
"Hey, calm down girl, It was just a question." She sat down on the bench next to Quinn.
It was a nice warm day, the kind of day when you can just lay in the sun and let the world pass you by, and Rachel and Quinn's garden was a perfect place for that. It had a couple of tall trees and a vegetable garden with a few plants that seemed in desperate need for a real gardener to look after them. Looking around Santana recognized a pole that seemed a little out of place. It was the one where Rachel tied Quinn on their second claiming attempt.
A cat jumped over onto the fence and graciously walked over it, waving his ass like a professional hooker. God, do even cats want sex these days? Was that what happened during Britt's claim? And maybe that was the reason she never told her about it, because she banged some stranger and she liked it. Maybe sex between them wasn't enough anymore for B, maybe she needed something different and more exciting than Santana. Oh God, she really did need to get it off her chest!
"Are you going to tell me what is going on so we can move on to more pressing matters?" She asked, knowing Quinn's mood too well to start with her own problems right away.
"Nothing is going on."
The cat jumped off the fence and went sniffing the plants in the garden, but his nose twitched and he turned away with a look of superiority on his feline face.
"Yeah, sure. Nothing is going on, I'm the gentlest princess everyone wants as friend and snow tastes like butterflies, right?"
"Leave it, Lopez. This is not the right moment."
But telling Santana Lopez to leave it was like waving a red flag in front of a bull: you got her attention. And not in a nice way.
"God. What did you do this time?" She asked sighing tiredly.
"Why?" her voice was louder now, "Why is it always have to be me?"
"Good question." The cat turned around showing a mild interest in what was going on between the two women. "Why does it always have to be you, Fabray?" If Quinn thought she could play the victim that day she thought wrong. Santana had enough on her plate and no intention of letting shit be thrown at her. "Ever wondered why every time I come across a situation deep in shit I find you around?"
"Fuck off!"
"Yeah, sure, here it comes your good-for-all-times answer. Fuck the world, I'm the only one that matters."
Santana got up wich raised the cat's interest even more and he tilted his head looking at the scene. She came here hoping to find a friend to talk to, but instead she found yet another to an endless list of problems that Quinn Fabray brought upon herself and into Santana's life.
"Ok, let me guess here. You said slash did something really stupid that fucked up your relationship with Berry, right?"
"I didn't do anything."
"Oh, sorry, my mistake: you said slash did something really stupid that fucked up your relationship with Berry but you don't realize that yet."
"Go away, Lopez!"
"Why? So you can cry some more over yourself, and how lonely you are, and how nobody understands you, you poor little chosen one whose destiny turned against her."
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"Then enlighten me, oh mighty Fabray!"
"She tied me up, ok? She..."
"Did she hurt you?" Asked Santana with a serious look on her face.
"No."
"Then what the fuck are we talking about here?"
"She treated me like a slave!"
Santana couldn't hide an incredulous smile stretching across her face. "For God's sake, Quinn, you are a slave, you are her slave, when are you gonna understand that? "
"That was not..."
Santana shushed her with a finger. "Hear me out Fabray, because I'm going to tell you something very important. You, Quinn Fabray, are a selfish bitch!" She stressed timing every word prodding Quinn's shoulder with her finger. "You think the world revolves around you. It's always your pain, your suffering, your drama. Do you ever think that if a friend shows up at your house it's maybe because she needs you? Do you ever think that if you screw up with some dominants your owner is going to pay the price too, because she's the first responsible for your actions? No, of course not! You're Quinn Fabray so everything has to revolve around you! Well, guess what, fucking chosen one, you're not as special as you think!"
Santana stepped closer lowering her voice to a menacing tone. "You think you're tough and strong because you survived for ten years on your terms but this isn't being strong, baby. Being strong means compromising for the sake of the ones you love, it means bowing your head, from time to time, it means shutting up when you don't want to, and it means also giving up something if the ones you love ask you to do it." Santana turned around. "I'm sick and tired of your attitude, Fabray, you live in your own world, blind to everything else." She went for the door without turning back. "I hope in your perfect black and white world you won't get lonely too soon." She said finally as she left punching the hallway wall on her way out.
Santana Lopez didn't go home straight away. She aimelessly drove for a while, just trying to control her anger that was threatening to explode. God, she wished she knew how to hit a baseball now, so she could close herself in a batting cage and hit, hit, and hit again until she was too sore to continue.
Driving wasno good. Instead of calming her nerves she found herself stepping harder on the gas pedal, going well past the limit. She passed a school with two kids kissing on the stairs up front and cursed them for no other reason than their young happiness.
'Calm down San!' she warned herself, but she knew she wouldn't listen to her own advice. Her mind was stuck in a loop, making her face again and again the betrayal of the two people she cared for the most. Was it too much to ask to be taken care of for once? Was it too much to just want someone to lift the burden from her shoulders, hug her and tell her everything was going to be ok?
"Fuck!" She hit the brakes hard when an elderòly woman crossed the street on her bike.
The woman turned around pointing a finger at her.
"Do you know what the speed limit is kid? I should report you I..." she stopped when she saw Santana covering her eyes with shaking hands. The woman got down from her bike and knocked on the car window. "Hey kid, you ok?"
The immediate danger had broken the line of her thought, but now the adrenaline rush was causing her body to shake like a leaf.
Fuck, fuck fuck! I almost ran over that lady!
"Look, I'm fine, really." The old woman tried to reassure Santana when she didn't answer her first try and this time the Latina rolled down the window.
"I'm sorry miss." She said apologetically. "Are you ok?"
"I'm a tough one kiddo, you didn't even make me blink."
"I'm so sorry, miss, so sorry I..."
She eyed worriedly the girl, her pale skin and the way her hands still trembled
"Shut up and get out of there, little one, you need some air." She opened the car door and helped her out but as soon as she stepped outside Santana faltered, almost falling down. "Here, sit down for a moment." The old lady took her hand, pulling her down gently.
Someone, behind them, honked and the old woman gestured angrily at him to just overtake and get over with it.
"Asshole." She muttered as he passed over, making Santana wink briefly before a wave of nausea hit her, making her groan.
"Keep your head between your knees, kid, you will feel better in a moment." She pushed Santana's head down, putting a reassuring hand on her arm. "There is no need to be so upset. I shouldn't have yelled at you, I was a terrible driver myself back in the days. I should know better."
Another car arrived and passed them by. The driver slowed down to look at them and when the woman nodded, signaling they were ok, he smiled politely and moved on.
"You know, if an old lady like me can make you feel like this, kid, you should probably work on you growing a tougher skin."
Santana chuckled. It was weird, for Santana, having someone think she was too sensitive or soft. People usually thought of her in a different way, one that went along with some of the nicknames she earned during the years, such as "The Crazy Bitch" or "The Devil's Daughter"
"I'm not that sensitive ma'am. I'm just having a very bad day." She tried to raise her head but she felt the woman's hand pushed her back down again.
"Don't be stupid now, give it a moment." She instructed and Santana complied without further complaint.
She fixed her gaze on the concrete floor beneath her, a sad smile appearing on her face. A stranger was willing to take care of her more than her so-called best friend. So maybe it wasn't her fault, maybe she wasn't so fucking unlovable as they made her feel, maybe it was just that Quinn Fabray was a fucking selfish bitch and her girlfriend a liar.
She raised her head, eyes closed, leaning on the car.
"Do you live far away from here, kid?"
"I'm not heading home." Santana answered.
"You should, you're in no condition of going to work like this."
"I'm not heading to work either. I'm just..."
What? What was she doing? Where was she going?
"Wandering around." The woman finished for her, and Santana nodded. "It's going to be ok, you know?"
Santana turned around to face her, surprised. "Excuse me?"
"Whatever is bothering you," the woman explained, "it's going to turn out ok. You're worrying yourself over nothing."
"What are you, some sort of medium or something?" She asked with an ironic smile.
"Just someone who has lived through enough to know that." She replied. "Trust me when I tell you this, kiddo. Things have their own way of working out for the better."
"And if they don't?"
"And if they don't, you grow a pair and kick their asses till they do. But it won't get to that," she smiled offering her hand to help Santana up. "Now you go back into your car, you drive up to Strawberry's park, you find a quiet place, maybe near the pond where the ducks are and, you lie down and close your eyes. You'll probably sleep for a while and when you wake up, if you're still angry, you'll go into the woods, pick up a branch and start hitting a tree until you have no more strength. And if it still isn't enough you go find a bar and you get drunk. But then, kid, then you go home and you face whatever is bothering you, ok?"
With some slight hesitation she put her hands around Santana's neck, pulling her in for a hug. "You're going to be ok." She whispered into her ear.
Santana returned the embrace holding the woman's waist. "Why are you doing this?" It felt underserved, it was a kind gesture out of nowhere and no one did something so kind wanting nothing in return.
"You're my daily good deed kid." the woman replied letting her go. "Now I get to be an asshole for the rest of the day if I want to. It's my gain."
She smiled picking up her bike and crossing the street as she was supposed to do half an hour ago.
She parked the car on the street, knowing that, if she brought it in the noise would have woken B up. It was almost 2 a.m. and Santana wasn't up for a fight with her. She just needed to sleep, and possibly to wake up in someone else's life.
She opened the door as silently as she could. All the lights in the house were off but the big windows and the glass doors let the street light in so she could easily move without tripping over anything. She was just letting the keys drop on the cabinet next to the door, contemplating the idea of lying down to sleep on the couch, when Britt appeared at the end of the corridor, hair pulled up in a loose ponytail, gray shorts and a white tee too big that hung on her shoulders.
"I was about to call the police." Arms limps by her sides B looked relived and angry at the same time as she approached Santana.
"Sorry." Santana walked into the kitchen and took a bottle of water from the fridge. She heard the quiet footsteps of Britt's naked feet on the floor. "It's late B. Go to bed."
"What happened?"
The Latina drank from the bottle, blatantly ignoring her girlfriend.
"San?" Britt tried again, "Talk to me, please." She put a hand on her hip turning the other woman around, letting it rest there, closing the space between them.
Santana's gaze was fixed on the bottle, drops of water running down from the plastic on her hand. "Not now, please."
This was exactly what Santana tried to avoid: close contact with Britt. She was still so angry, so confused, and she knew that if she tried to talk in that moment, when she was still upset, she would end up saying something she would later regret. She tried to walk past the blonde but Brittany stepped in her way, blocking her. With a single, fluid movement, she put her arms around Santana's neck in a warm embrace.
Santana was still so angry and confused that she almost fought her off pushing the blonde away, but it was only a metter of a moment; then the feeling that always came with B's hugs kicked in. That relaxing sensation, like a weight lifting from her chest, an inner peace that spread from Britt's hands to her back through her skin and muscles, until it sank in every cell of her body. She felt her rage subside, slowly, leaving an empty space that sadness came to fill in. She gave up, letting her forehead rest on Britt's shoulder.
Brittany held her, sorrowfullly noticing that Santana wasn't returning the embrace. Not out of affection, not even as a cry for help, trying to cling to her like she sometimes did.
"When?" she asked, pushing her feelings aside. The blonde could feel her girlfriend's hot breath trespassing the thin layer of her shirt warming her skin. "San?" she asked again.
"Saturday." The answer came in a low voice and Britt knew, if she didn't already, that something was really wrong with Santana.
In the last years they rarely had to resolve to the "talking truce" as a mean to calm down before saying something hurtful they would regret, and even when they did the truce never lasted more than a couple of days. But now Santana was asking not for two, not three but four days before talking to her.
"Ok." Britt agreed. Not that she wanted to, but they had rules, and rules were there to help you in moments of need and uncertainty like that. And the rule was simple: the one who didn't want to talk was the one who got to decide for how long could the conversation be postponed. Within a reasonable timeframe, of course.
"Saturday." Britt confirmed, concealing her worry with a tired smile. She wasn't happy letting her girlfriend to brood on her problems without helping her, but if there was something she had learned during the years, it was that sometimes Santana needed her space. Period. Not 'ifs' or 'buts', no question asked.
She let her fingers trail down her girlfriend's arms, down to her hand, trying to pull her along to their bedroom, and when she felt Santana resisting, standing still, she tried to convince her by talking to her like to a stubborn child.
"Come on, San, it's late and you need to sleep."
The Latina let her fingers slip from Brittany's and her arm fell limply back to her side.
"I think I'll take a nap on the couch."
"San..."
"No B, it's ok", the Latina interrupted her. "Like you said, it's already late. I want to turn on the stereo and put on some calming music. I think it will help me sleep sooner."
Britt was always able to see through Santana's lies and this time was no exception. She chewed her bottom lip. She didn't like this. Not at all.
"Ok. But please, take a blanket, ok?" The blonde kissed her cheek goodnight and walked in the bedroom barely keeping herself from crying.
Britt used to say she had psychic powers.
People laughed at that, thinking she was joking, and when they realized she wasn't, they looked at her differently, like she was a nut job. The only one who always believed her was Santana.
"It makes sense", she said to her when Brittany first told her about them. "I always thought you were magical, somehow, it just seems to fit that you have psychic powers or something."
Santana was the first one, probably the only one, who truly believed her.
Britt was convinced she inherited her powers from her cat, lord Tubbington, for two reasons: first, he always seemed to know when she was sad and he would always crawl in her lap, purring and rubbing his mug over her, to comfort her; second, because Lord Tubbington himself told her so when he came to her in a dream, a few days after he passed away.
Truth to be told, though, her powers didn't manifest until she started to feel something for Santana. Lord Tubbington, who had a habit of showing up n her dreams by then, told her Santana was her trigger, that the feelings she had for the girl were the ones that let her powers manifest at its fullest.
It was weird at first, when she realized she could literally see the other's feelings in shapes and colors, but she got used to it pretty soon. She was able to see the bright yellow of Santana's lustful thoughts shining through her eyes, and the purple pain that Quinn tried to hold back pushing it back behind her hard facade.
When she told Quinn she could see her pain, like literally see it, the other girl had tried to rationalize it.
"You're an emphatic person Britt, it means that you can feel the other's feeling, you know what's on their mind, you can tune in to their emotions. It doesn't mean your cat gave you superpowers." But when she saw the hurt look on her face she retracted. "Or, you know... maybe you have powers, I don't really know Britt. There are so many things our minds might do. You might have psychic abilities or you might be a new stage of human evolution for all I know."
Britt still smiled at that thought. Like if human mutants could exist. That was pretty silly from Quinn but still, she had decided to trust her and that was important for Brittany. That was what friends did for each other.
Her ability was stronger with the people she loved. That was the reason she was always able to comfort Quinn when she needed it, even if she didn't know what had upset her, and that was the reason she could always see past Santana's cockiness, and her self-imposed attitude.
It was an unfair advantage in their relationship, Britt was aware of that, but she made a point of using her powers just for the greater good and never abuse them. There were some times though, like this evening, when she wished she wasn't able to see others' emotions, and especially Santana's
She stared at the ceiling of their bedroom, her hand on the cold spot besides her, where Santana was supposed to be but was, instead, empty. She wished she couldn't see through her girlfriend's lie and that she didn't feel her anguish and fear. She wished she didn't see the black sticky bubbles boiling inside Santana's thoughts, something she had never seen before, not quite like this at least. There were times when her girlfriend was worried sick about Quinn, and her thoughts had been as black as they were now, but they weren't boiling, they weren't so hot and scary, they weren't so sticky and... angry.
Britt sighed rolling onto her side staring pit the window. Was Santana already asleep? Should she get up and check on her? Maybe not. She had agreed on giving her time and checking on her would have felt like poking. No, right, she would have to wait because there were rules and because it was the right thing.
But waiting sucked!
In the next chapter Rachel comes home and she finally speaks to Quinn. See you soon guys!
