AN: Hey! I know its been a while, I've been really sick, like, the vomit kind... Yeah... So on that note, sorry if its bad, it was literally pretty much written between fevers, so... Hopefully you will all like it! This chapter was written a bit differently; so for clarification, most of the chapter is a 'flashback' for lack of a better word, and we will come around full circle in the mid of the chapter back to where it started at the beginning. Did that make sense? I hope it did. Ok, done now, enjoy! :)
"Excuse me, but are you like, bi-polar or something?" Brittany snapped at the Latina. Her mood swings finally irritated Brittany too much- and what she had said genuinely hurt.
The week had been askew. Like a roller coaster. Her head screamed normal, but it also clawed at her to seek for difference. See, the thing was, metaphorically; when it was screaming, she could put in earplugs to drown the sound- but when it insistently clawed, there was nothing she could do. So she bent with the claw, and went for different.
All week long, Santana had been warm and cold more times then she could put up with. It was conflicting- it was confusing! But still, she found herself forgiving, wanting to let this girl explain herself- give her a chance.
On Tuesday, she had brought the second Dead Sight comic to school in hopes to give it to Santana. Brittany was still buzzing from the high Santana had given her with her words at that point. During Spanish, she carefully tapped at the back of the Latina's heels. Santana spun around, irritation rolling off of her in waves.
"What?" She'd growled. Brittany was instantly regretful for choosing that moment to suggest the book, but went on with it anyways; besides, Santana said she didn't deserve bullshit, right?
"I was just wondering if you wanted to borrow the second book? You said you liked the first." Brittany was respectful enough to keep her voice at a low hush, so no one else could hear. Surely, Santana wouldn't want others knowing she was reading a nerd book.
The darker haired girls features softened, and her voice was with such a kind firmness it felt like a physical kick in the chest, "Yeah. I'd like that." And with that she spun around again.
Brittany had managed to catch up to after school before the girl loaded herself into Quinn's car. Brittany hastily handed her the book while Quinn was busy talking to Puckerman. Santana smiled, said thanks and hid it in her bag.
She had smiled the whole way home, so long that her cheeks were sore. She felt ecstatic. She felt like she was maybe friends with Santana, in their own strange way- like it was their little secret.
On Wednesday while Brittany was putting her books away into her locker, preparing to walk home for lunch- she had two slushies dumped on her head, that dripped down her back. That wasn't surprising. But what hurt her was when she heard the laughs; Quinn and Santana.
She looked up through her glasses, seeing the two of them in hysterics. She felt like she was in denial. She felt like that couldn't be happening; they were kind of friends,weren't they? She had searched for something- anything- in the Latina's eyes as she laughed. Some regret, something to slip up and give it away as fake laughter. She found nothing.
Thursday rolled around and Santana wasn't giving her any attention at all; not negative nor positive. Like she was a ghost. Invisible. Not there.
Brittany both enjoyed it and found it aching at the same time.
She had gone with Sam after school to Jaxon Cafe. He had pointed out the girl he was crushing on; she was pretty, wavy brown hair that was pulled in a ponytail, except her small bangs that were over her forehead. She acted as good as a wing woman as she could; once she introduced them, they had chatted while she was on her break. Brittany bought herself a coffee and sat alone at one of the cream colored round tables near the window. Sam was quite cute when he was nervous. She could see from where she was sitting her was trying to do some kind of impression- and she was giggling. Not harshly. That was obvious by the flush in her cheeks and how sparkly her eyes looked.
Someone tapped her shoulder, "Care if I join you?" Santana had asked.
It was Brittany's first impulse to say yes- but she caught herself and attempted to give the Latina a suspicious glare. It was her hopes to make Santana feel bad.
The girl had chuckled lightly and rolled her eyes, taking a seat across from Brittany anyways.
"I didn't say you could." Brittany muttered unhappily.
"Well, I am anyways." Santana had retorted, blowing on her coffee to cool it down.
"Well, I think I might move then." She grumbled and began to rise from her seat. She was still hoping to bring Santana on a guilt trip.
The girl quickly grabbed her hand gently holding it where it was, "Wait," Santana insisted. Brittany felt the little crackles of electricity spark on her skin when their hands touched. It was beautiful. Santana's hand was so soft and warm.
She slowly sat back down,
"What?" Brittany made an effort to sound short tempered.
"I wanted to say I was sorry for slushying you yesterday. You didn't deserve it."
"Then why did you do it?" She had countered quickly, "I mean, you said I didn't deserve bullshit- yet you'rethe one delivering it to me."
"I know. Would you believe me if I said I tried to convince Quinn that slushying Wheelchair Boy would be funner than slushying you?"
"Don't talk about Artie like that."
Santana looked down into her coffee- the look almost looked like remorse.
"Brittany you don't understand what it's like to be a Cheerio," Santana said slowly,
"Oh you're right I don't. Sauntering around the school tossing slush in the faces of the poor kids that already get enough crap must be so hard, isn't it?"
"I'm trying to do the right thing!" Santana hissed, "Give me five fucking minutes to explain myself."
She wasn't entirely sure why her anger at Santana built. Most of her wanted to bend- sit back, forgive Santana and let her restart. A more powerful part of her wanted to yell at her just for the sake of all the confusing turmoil she had put her through in the last week and a half. She wanted to make Santana feel bad.
"No, Santana!" She said as forcefully as she could without yelling, "That's the thing; you shouldn't haveto be explaining yourself!" She stood up, and Santana lunged for her hand again,
"Please!" The Latina begged quietly, "You don't think I don't feel like shit? Judge me after I try to make things better, at least, ok?"
Disgruntled, she slid back into her chair.
Santana sghed, "Fabray just handed me the slushy. She said we were gonna go slushy a nerd, I asked who- and I really did try to convince her to go slushy Cri- Artie. I tried to convince her that we should get Artie instead, and she started going off about... stuff. Pressuring me into hitting you with the slushy, alright? So I did. And I'm sorry."
"What kind of stuff?" She deadpanned.
"Just basic crap. You know, the things that people say when they're trying to pressure people into doing things they want."
Brittany raised her eyebrows; that had been no proper response.
"It's not important. Just... I'm sorry."
And there it was again- her anger subsided, and her impulses kicked in;
"I forgive you."
Santana smiled, "Thanks. I feel bad for always giving you shit- so I'm going to try to make it up to you."
Make it up to her? She quirked an eyebrow, interested, but... well, this was Santana- what did she have in mind to 'make it up to her'?
"I have a feeling you've never been to a party before?" The girl had asked.
"Party? No, oh no- Santana, I can't go to a party."
Santana rolled her eyes, "Pierce, loosen up- we're seniors, and you've never been to a party. Trust me on this, Finn is throwing the party- so obviously, it's not going to be crazy. He refuses to have pot in his house 'cause it will stink things up and his mom will murder him. So, it's strictly an alcohol party- it will be pretty tame."
"Santana, I'm flattered, but-"
The Latina had ignored her resistance, and pushed on with her offer; "I promise you; you will go under the watchful eye of yours truly," Santana pointed at her self for a moment, "And, I will make sure no one gross like Karofsky comes onto you, and if anyone dare remarks about you, I will personally give them a night of hell. Deal?"
She twisted her lips, "Santana, I can't go to a party," She had tried to tell her.
"Brittany, come on! Trust me on this one!" Santana had used her name. Her actual name! That, that small thing- made her bend (Something she seemed to be doing a lot of lately), Santana was going on, "You'll enjoy yourself, I guarantee! Listen to some music, get a little bit drunk-"
"I'll go." She cut Santana off.
"You will?"
She nodded. Santana grinned, ear to ear, a gorgeous smile.
It wasn't long before Sam had returned to the table, looking confused as to why Santana was there. He avoided her gaze and inquired if she was ready to go home; she was.
That night, she had scraped around her room for anything decent to where- she was frantic when she realized, in fact; she had no idea what to where. Not even an idea where to start!
She thought back to what Santana had worn, and used that as a jumping off point- she luckily owned a couple of nice pairs of skinny jeans; so she grabbed her best pair. Now, Santana had worn some kind of corset, and Brittany definitely wasn't comfortbale with wearing something like that. Digging into the back of her drawers, she tossed out shirt after shirt; each was some kind of graphic t-shirt or tanktop. When she reached the darkest corners of her drawer, she pulled out several blank shirts. For once, she was happy her mom insisted she owned a couple of normal shirts. She yanked a plain white one over her head; it had a tiny 'v' neck, and it had obviously shrunk since it was first purchased, because it rode up her stomach a tiny bit, exposing some midriff.
It would have to do.
On Friday morning, her stomach crawled and crept with bitter nervousness- she considered backing out, it would be better that way. She could only see disaster arising from going to such an event, after all.
"Oh, quit being a baby and stop worrying." Santana groaned as Brittany swallowed the nerve to confront her about it during the transition to first and second period while the Latina was alone, "You're in good hands with me!"
Brittany snorted doubtfully, and pushed up her glasses.
The day drug on, and she decided not to pester Santana about it more- suck it up and just go, even just for a half an hour so the girls efforts to make better weren't fully tossed aside.
"Britt, I can't thank you enough for being my wing-woman yesterday," Sam thanked during Comic book club.
"Oh, yeah, my pleasure. It worked out then?" She had asked the blonde boy.
"Sorta. I'm taking her to the movies tonight- after Dead Sight, of course."
She nearly jumped from her seat- right! Dead Sight. Maybe now she would have a reason to skip out...?
Remembering she had Santana's number, she fired off a sneaky text, making sure Sam didn't see who it was to or what it said;
What time's the party?
Santana had buzzed back quickly; 9. I take it you're walking?
I don't know where Finn lives...
Not far from you- down on Birch. Surely you'll be able to tell which house it's at.
She was surprised; it wasn't actually far. It was in the subdivion across from the school, while her house was on the subdivision to the right.
Dead Sight took her mind off of the party briefly, but when reality returned, she knew she had to go. She changed and straightened her hair with butterflies in her stomach, frets buzzing around in her skull like angry hornets. They were annoying, and couldn't be swatted away.
Thankful that this late October night didn't bring rain, she informed her mother that she would be walking to Tina's for the night. Knowing her mom, she would believe her- and it really was in her best interest to be home anyways.
The walk there felt more like a walk down judgement lane; what would happen at the party would be a mystery- would it go down well, or would it be a disaster zone? There were countless possibilities, really.
Each one made her more angsty than the last.
Santana had been rigtht; the house was easy to spot; it was noisy and all the lights were on. Honestly, it didn't look like a proper house to have a party in; it was only one story...
As she approached the house more, she saw the large backyard, which where a large majority of jocks and Cheerios were hanging out; some had exchanged their uniforms for actual clothes, others remained fully dressed in their outfits.
Her butterflies felt like they transformed to worms as she opened up the door; she was expecting the party to stop and everyone to stare, questioning why she dare join them.
Hardly anyone paid any notice.
And them poof- Santana was there.
"So you didn't chicken out?" She teased, "I was expecting you to."
"I almost did." She confessed, while she was mesmerized- but tried not to stare- at the girl; she was wearing a beautifully tight red top, leather jacket and mercifully close fitting jeans with flats. In all honesty, it wasn't anything special for Santana. Maybe it was the light or something; but damn, she looked good...
"Well, you're here now! Let's get you a drink!"
Drink? Booze? She swallowed; she'd never had a sip of alcohol, either.
It was a little overwhelming, as Santana lead her by the arm through Finn Hudson's house to the kitchen, to see couples making out and practically having sex on random pieces of furniture. They were loud, and a bit wobbly.
"How is everyone already so drunk?" She mused aloud, gawking around while Santana fiddled with drinks.
"Because the party started an hour ago."
"What?" Brittany checked the clock on the stove; 9:12.
"Yeah, I told you to come an hour later. That way, if anyone was going to dick around, they'd mostly be tipsy enough to not question it now." She handed Brittany a shot glass full of a see through liquid; vodka, she knew that, "See! I'm making up for my shit..." Santana mumbled. Brittany grinned; warmed by her actions.
"Alright," Santana grinned and had held her drink into the air, "To your first party!" The Latina reached forward and clinked her glass with her own, then chugged it back. Brittany just looked at her glass sceptically.
"Come on, drink up!" Santana nudged her.
Here goes nothing she convinced herself, and swigged back her own.
Santana hooted, "Alright! You want a beer?"
"Uhm... ok." She was still grimacing at the burning after taste of the straight vodka, "But hey, Santana," She started unsurely. The Latina quirked her an eyebrow over her shoulder, "Uhm... You're not going to get too drunk, right? Just to make sure I'm ok and stuff, right... Like, so I don't get raped or something?"
The darker haired girl laughed as she cracked a can of beer and handed it to her.
"Wow, Bi-Pierce, you really need to loosen up."
"Seriously! What if someone like JBI tries to go for me or something? You wouldn't be much help if you were off in a corner sobbing about the murder of tomatoes to make ketchup." She whined.
Santana rolled her eyes, "Ok, I over did it that night- I only get weepy when I'm really drunk. And fine- if it'll put your blonde head at rest, I'll stick to your side and if my head starts feeling fuzzy- I'll switch to water."
She smiled, "Thanks, it's just you know- my first part-"
"Yeah, yeah!" Santana held up her hand and cut her off, "Can we ditch the yapping and start having fun now?"
So they did. At first Brittany was still uncomfortable, but Santana's loyalty at her side loosened her up after a while. The two of them played pool in Finn's multi-purpose room, and even when Puck started coming onto Santana, she snarled and told him to go screw someone else. She was pretty sure he did.
Another two beers later, she felt blurry, and even hobbled a bit, Santana had laughed and encouraged her to drink some more. Laughing, she did a shot with Finn just because she could.
At some point she lost her glasses, that worried her at first- then she shook it off.
"Pierce, what're you doing?" Santana chuckled as the two of them stood in the multi-purpose room once again.
"Nothin'. It's hot in here," She explained as she pulled her shirt up over her head and tossed it onto the floor without care. Someone somewhere wolf-whistled, and she grinned.
"Ah. So we've discovered what kind of drunk you are," Santana had remarked, "A stripper drunk. Classy. Where'd you get your abs anyways?"
She shrugged. Who cares?
Later that night Finn tried kissing her, she wanted to kiss back, but Santana yanked her away.
"Hey!" Brittany had shouted, upset with her, "What did you do that for? We were gonna kiss!"
"I'm keeping my word and making sure you don't get raped." Santana explained with a roll to her eyes. But Brittany didn't care anymore, she had her attention focused elsewhere.
"And apparently," The Latina sounded exasperrated, "I need to watch out for myself now too," She gently placed her hands under Brittany's chin and guided her head up, "My eyes are up here, Bi-Pierce. We've had this talk before."
"Right."
They took more shots. By now, absolutely nothing made sense whatsoever. Nor did it need to. All she needed to know was... was... nothing. She didn't need to know which way was up, or down- or boy or girl- or left or right. They were all the same as the world around her did looping spirals.
Soon enough, she was falling in every direction, and Santana was there to pick her up, giggling every time.
Brittany was upset when the house began to fill out, and Santana told her it was time to go home.
She couldn't even stand straight, so during the walk back to her house, Santana had to keep her upright by having one arm wrapped around her waist, the other around her shoulders. She smelled good. Roses, maybe. If that's what roses smelled like?
Santana had also given her her leather jacket, considering Brittany's shirt was long gone.
"San, it's cold outside!" She whined, as they made their way down the dark street.
She didn't reply.
What Brittany said reminded herself of something; a song...
"It's too cold outside..." She tried to sing drunkenly, but realized she knew none of the other lyrics, so she just hummed the tune. Santana chimed in under her breath.
Damn... what were the lyrics...?
She searched and searched, as she hummed along... God, she knew this! But what was it?
Or just the lyrics after 'it's too cold outside'... She could live with remembering that...
"It's too cold outside, for angels to fly!" She wailed in the dark streets as the two lines connected and she remembered the other lyric.
"Jesus Christ, Brittany! Be quiet or someone will call the cops on us!" Santana barked. Brittany was taken aback, and a bit hurt by Santana's abrupt outburst, "San... why are you yelling at me? We were like, bestfriends a minute ago...?"
Santana had laughed dryly and they halted walking in the middle of one of the roads in her subdivision.
"Us? Best friends? Hell no. We are definitely not on the same social status- and I don't have best friends, that's not my thing. Too much effort. Also, do you actually think I like you?" She threw her head back in laughter again, "Feel sorry for you? Yeah, I feel sorry for you. But I don't like you."
Brittany shook her head, tears had begun to brim in her eyes, "You're lying." Whether she was trying to convince Santana or herself- she had no idea.
The Latina held her gaze with ice in her dark eyes, "I'm not." She had responded.
"You are. You said-" She broke off, her hurt giving away to anger, "Fine." She shrugged off Santana's stupid jacket, nearly toppling over as she did so, but she caught herself, and she threw it at Santana. There was an instant cool chill on her skin from the air outside; but she didn't care; her fury seemed so boiling hot it warmed her up.
"You know what Santana? I don't know what terrible thing happened to you to make you so bitter- and I tried to put up with you, I did, I really did!" She shouted, "But I am so done now. I'm done trying. Have a nice life." She tried to wobble away, but couldn't make it three steps before she stumbled over.
Groaning in frustration at her own intoxicated handicap, she brushed off her knees.
"Let me help you," Santana had said softly, making a move towards her on the ground.
Yes, it was that chain of events that had lead up to her shouting at Santana about her being a bi-polar.
"Excuse me, are you like, bi-polar or something?" She snapped once again, refusing to take Santana's outstretched hand, "Did you not hear what I just said?"
Go! Go away!
"Britt, you're going to kill yourself if you try to walk home. Please let me help you." Santana's voice shook as she gently placed her fingers on Brittany's bare shoulder. She swatted them away. She didn't want Santana to touch her- because it hurt. It was a physical ache when she touched her, and it sent her mind into emotional hurt.
"I'd rather die then." She muttered, pushing herself to her feet and cautiously taking slow steps down the road.
"Please? Please, Britt, I didn't mean it- I'm sorry." Santana pleaded, Brittany could hear the other girls shoes making thuds behind her on the pavement.
"Sorry doesn't count." She childishly retorted. Not when you've heard it a million times...
"Well then please listen! You don't even have to look at me- just listen, please. I just don't get it..."
"Get what?" She asked venomously, concentrating intensely on not toppling over.
"I..." Santana choked on the word; a sad little sound that fell from her mouth, "I'm confused."
"With what?" She continued sourly.
"You."
Halting, Brittany turned to look at Santana incredulously, "You're confused with me?"
Santana nodded.
"You're fucking kidding me, right?" Brittany inquired flatly.
She shook her head, even in the dim light she could see Santana blinking rapidly and looking at the ground.
"Why?" Brittany had shifted to curious, although within there was still a part of her that was seething.
Santana shrugged, shook her head and laughed humorlessly at the same time; "Uhh... Because I like you."
Brittany furrowed her brow, "Ok, so why aren't we friends then? No one at school has to know?"
"No, Britt, you don't," Santana finally met her gaze again, blue eyes locking with brown, "I like you."
"Yeah, I know, you just-" She broke off. Had she heard her right? She hadn't obviously, right?
"Pardon? Did you just say you... like... me?" Brittany echoed uncertainly, fully turning around so she faced Santana, and she wasn't just looking over her shoulder at her.
Santana bit her lip, "Yeah."
This isn't real. She thought as she looked up at the night sky; this is a joke, this isn't happening.
"Say something, please?" Santana pleaded, Brittany rubbed her forehead; she was at a loss for words, and she didn't think it was from the alcohol.
"You mean it?" She finally inquired, taking her glance from the stars and looking back at Santana. The girl peeked the tiniest smile.
"Yeah. I mean it." A smile cracked on her own lips.
Santana's eyes stared down at the pavement for a moment, before looking back up at her; the small smile gone from her face, her expression serious; "I need to ask you for a favor, ok...?"
Bwahahaha sorry for leaving you on a cliffhanger :3 Ps. If any of you out there are wondering what song Britt was trying to sing drunkenly, it was the A Team by Ed Sheeran.