Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, its characters or any intellectual property.
Author's Note: Thank you so much for the feedback. I do take your thoughts into consideration. I got a lot of interesting comments regarding the should Santana date Audrey or not now that Brittany is in NY situation. I have an idea of where that storyline is headed, but it is nice to see readers invested in the fic so much that they have to chime in and give their opinion. I hope this chapter sheds some light on the Brittany aspects of the story thus far, her motivation behind things has been a little absent thus far due to the build up of getting her to New York. This chapter might help with those questions.
The past couple of summers had been rough for Brittany S. Pierce.
The previous one Santana had to leave Lima early to go to a cheerleading prep boot camp in Louisville. Brittany had spent the majority of that summer waiting to Skype in the evenings with the girlfriend she'd missed terribly. She had a part-time job at a pet-grooming store. But washing dogs and painting their nails neon colors (sometimes even when the owners didn't ask for it) didn't occupy as much of her time as she'd hoped.
Sure, she hung out with the Glee club kids during those months. She went shopping at the mall with Sugar. They'd try on dozens of different outfits and giggle at themselves in the mirror for hours. Other days, she got coffee with Tina and Blaine. They'd discuss their upcoming senior year (her second time around senior year of course) and make plans for numbers they wanted to sing in Glee club. No matter who else she spent time with, Brittany kept lithe and fit by frequenting the dance studio where she'd been attending classes since she was three. She pushed herself harder than she ever had in the past, trying to wear herself down. If she got home exhausted, maybe she wouldn't notice that she was alone or that Santana wasn't going to climb in through her window to cuddle at night.
However, none of her pursuits ever allowed her to forget, even for one minute, that she missed Santana. The brunette held such a vast and dominant part of her heart that it was sometimes hard to remember what being alone felt like. For so long, Santana had been there all the time. Even before they were dating officially, they would spend summers at the pool or reading trashy magazines in the air conditioning or walk to the ice cream shop where Santana would always buy her a cone. It was more than a little disheartening to have her girlfriend by her side constantly and then… just disappear. They exchanged texts during the day, sent dirty nude pictures back and forth, and tried to make time to talk on the phone daily. However, sometimes Santana was just too busy. That's when the realization that the brunette was hundreds of miles away really crushed Brittany. She found that when she couldn't hear her girlfriend's voice or see her face via Skype, she felt like she physically ached. Her loneliness was so palpable that it kept her up at night. She'd lie awake in the dark and just hope that things would get easier.
The summer before college went much the same way. She broke up with Sam promptly after graduation, leaving her single and alone in Lima again. She called him up to "talk" and found herself struggling to find the words that would hurt him the least. Eventually, she'd had to just come out and say it.
"This isn't working, Sam," she'd started. "You're a really nice guy and I know you care about me… but I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry."
He looked like he'd expected as much as she spoke. "Is this because of what happened with Kurt?" Sam had demanded as they sat outside Brittany's house on the front steps. She rested her chin on her folded knees, tucking her arms around her calves and sighed.
"Yes and no. Yes, that was mean and bullying and I can't accept that you did that to my friend. No, because there are other reasons. You're staying in Ohio, Sam. I don't know where I am going to be next year," Brittany had tried to explain. Sam shook his head, looking sad. She hated being the bad guy, she thought.
"I take it that you're banking on going to Juilliard," Sam asked softly. She swallowed hard.
"I mean, I want to go there. I think it would be good for me," she explained. "I don't know if I got in… and I won't know for a while. I'm trying not to get my hopes up." She fumbled with the hem of her shorts and tried to maintain her composure.
Sam scoffed loudly. "You want to go to New York, Juilliard or not… just admit it, Brit. You know that you can't do a long-distance relationship and you're ending it now so you can get ready to move," he half-heartedly accused.
Brittany was quite for a long time. The evening cicadas made more noise than they did as they sat there, trying to maintain their poker faces.
"We both knew this was coming, Sam," she'd finally stated, quietly. "I haven't been happy for a while. This just isn't what I want right now."
Sam's head turned and he gazed at her in disbelief. "No… I didn't know this was coming, Brit. I actually thought we were good together but apparently I was the only one to think that," he muttered. "And you don't have to make up excuses. I'm not that stupid- I know what's going on. This is because of Santana. It's always because of Santana," he grunted, kicking at the grass next to his foot. Brittany exhaled a long breath, trying to formulate a rebuttal.
"Sam… you were a great high school boyfriend. But we're not in high school anymore. We're both moving on and this just isn't working anymore. I'm sorry," Brittany apologized again, without making eye contact.
Sam's glare burned into her. "You didn't answer me. This is because of Santana, isn't it?" He pushed, demanding that she reply. He needed to hear the truth straight from her mouth.
Finally she turned to him, taking a deep breath to prepare her lungs. "I care about you, Sam, but I don't… love you. I can't give you my heart because it belongs to Santana, broken up or not. Junior year, I made the… mistake… of choosing Artie over her. Then I chose to reject her again… to stay with you—but not because I loved you more than her. I-I-I let you believe that because… it was easier than admitting that I'd done it so she'd go to New York," Brittany finally disclosed. "If she thought that we would get back together, she would have stayed. I couldn't let her do that. I'm sorry that I lied to you and hurt you in the process. I really am."
Sam just looked devastated.
Brittany went on. "I can't keep telling myself that I have to make other people happy instead of making myself happy. I have to do what makes me happy, ok? Can you understand that?" She begged, tearing up a bit. She sniffed hard, trying to get Sam to comprehend what she was telling him. "You were nice to me and… you were there for me when I felt like I had no one. I will always be grateful that you were kind to me… and loved me the way you did. But I can't stay in this relationship when it feels like a lie."
Sam just stared at her in a daze, barely able to respond. "It was a lie because… you never loved me. I was just tiding you over until you could get Santana back," he mumbled. He sounded small and broken.
"I can't help how I feel or who I love, Sam," she told him firmly. "I love Santana like I want to be with her forever and… I never felt that way abut you. I loved you like a friend, but not like a soul mate… not like with her," Brittany almost whispered. "But there is more to this than that. I think that… you have some things you need to think about too, Sam." Brittany paused and waited for him to respond, but he just looked away.
"What are you talking about?" he demanded, awkwardly rubbing his arm. Brittany sat quietly until he made eye contact again.
"You and Blaine became really close this year and that was great. You were so tolerant and accepting of him; you two basically became brothers. Yet, you lashed out at Kurt for defending Santana and you called them both bad words. Why?"
Several different emotions screamed across Sam's face as Brittany finished speaking. He looked bewildered first, then sort of confused again, and then angry and then… finally, he looked defeated.
"I…I..." Sam stammered, his posture going rigid before he finally slumped over. "I don't know. I don't hate gay people or think that there's something wrong with them. I never thought I had it within me to be… homophobic. That's not me," he implored. "…Maybe I said those things about Santana and Kurt because… I was a little bit defensive that I liked Blaine's affectionate attention so much. I… I lashed out because I was afraid of the way I was feeling." Sam's eyes looked sad and wet. "I wasn't tolerant or… understanding at all. I shouldn't have pushed Kurt and I never should have said those things about Santana."
Brittany gently rubbed his shoulder to provide comfort. "It's ok to be confused about how you feel, Sam," she reminded him. "You don't have to put labels on things or decide who you are right now. You can take your whole life to figure it out." She smiled at him and pulled him to her, hugging him for a few seconds. Then she leaned back and searched his eyes. "Are we going to be ok? We won't be together but… we can still hang out if you want sometime."
Sam nodded his head and shot her a small grin. "I'd like that."
And just like that—she was single again. Brittany felt lighter, like she'd lost some emotional baggage she'd been hauling around. In a sense, she had. She hadn't been honest about her motivations for staying with Sam, even to herself. She wished she hadn't strung him along and given him false hope for a future together. It made her feel guilty and ashamed… and she hated feeling that way. She hurt him, even if he didn't admit it. She hadn't even been able to admit that she didn't love him until Santana had returned after she dropped out.
It was easy to think that things with Sam were fine when the brunette was absent. However, once she popped back up again, it became near impossible to compare how Brittany felt for the two very different people. Sam didn't stand a chance and that's what scared her so badly. She wanted Santana there with her so much that it hurt… but she couldn't allow herself to give in. She had to help Santana achieve her goals, because that's what a partnership was all about. Even if they weren't girlfriends, she was still Brittany's best friend. Brittany still wanted the best for her, even if it meant pushing Santana away.
That's when she realized that she loved Santana. It wasn't like she didn't think that she truly loved the girl before then- that wasn't it. When she pushed Santana away for her own good, Brittany realized that she loved her with a sense of finality. She loved her in the sense that her heart was completely filled and almost bursting. Santana provided her with everything she'd ever wanted, or thought she could would, or would ever want. She loved Santana, but it was so much deeper and vaster than high school puppy love. It was the type of love that would turn her months with Sam into a forgettable interruption between periods of being with Santana. It was the type of love that lead to marriage and children and happily ever after. It was love for the long haul, the type that didn't diminish because they were far away from each other. Distances made them just miss one another even more because somewhere inside, they knew they shouldn't be apart.
Santana was the other half of her and had always been, ever since Brittany could remember. She just had never put the pieces of the puzzle together before then. The parts were all jumbled and it felt like it took time to acquire more of them. But the picture was becoming clearer. It was a snapshot of a future together. It made Brittany feel more dumb than any bully's taunts that might have plagued her for her entire life. She felt stupid for not figuring it out sooner. She knew she wanted the best for Santana… but she never realized it was because she loved the brunette more than she could ever fathom or hope to articulate. She had always loved Santana but never knew how much she loved her until then.
Brittany felt trapped all summer, like she was being suffocated. The terror of the unknown crept into her every waking thought. What happened if she didn't get into Juilliard? Would she still go to New York? What would be her excuse to be there, besides Santana? She was treading water and growing more exhausted by the second.
When the letter came in the mail, she sat at her desk holding it for almost thirty minutes before opening it. The words written on the paper inside would change her whole life forever. She teetered on the precipice of knowing and not knowing for as long as she could before she tore open the top of the envelope and ripped the contents out.
When her eyes found the word congratulations in the midst of the rest of what was written there, Brittany thought she would die of happiness. This was fate shoving her down the right path, obliterating any and all doubts she might have about the direction of her life. This was her chance to right all the wrongs she'd committed, to seek out Santana and prove that she was done with Sam or any of those other guys. She just wanted her.
Sitting there watching Kurt and Rachel perform some ridiculous one-act play based on an altercation they'd had with a homeless man on the subway, Brittany didn't feel like the new, doe-eyed girl in New York. She had an eerie, unshakable feeling that she was supposed to be there in that moment. She fit into this scene effortlessly—like someone had saved a place for her… even when she wasn't there. She turned her head to gaze at the gorgeous brunette sitting beside her, sipping some wine. It was Santana, Brittany knew; maybe she'd always hoped that the blonde would come join her here eventually. It just took Brittany a little longer to find her way there.
Santana, despite looking serene as late in the play drunken Kurt pantomimed peeing in a cup and trying to throw it on drunken Rachel (yes, it had really happened earlier that week), was a tornado inside. She didn't know what to think. Brittany was there; fulfilling every wish Santana had ever had in the past six months. This was exactly how she'd envisioned nights in New York: Kurt and Rachel being ridiculous and entertaining while she and Brittany sat close on the couch, observing the madness.
But things weren't that simple. She still had a painful series of memories tied to her relationship with the blonde. She'd only recently been able to talk about the rejection she felt when Brittany chose Sam months ago. She had that anger over being made to feel like second choice for the second time.
Santana still had dreams of making something of herself that hadn't subsided just because Brittany was sitting here again. She wanted to do things for herself now, had achieved the sweetness of autonomy and was almost unsure if she could go back to doing everything for Brittany and Brittany's sake like she once did.
But then she remembered, things weren't ever really like that. Brittany never needed her constant attention and help like Santana thought the blonde did. That was how Santana had underestimated the girl, she thought again. She wouldn't do it this time. She would never doubt that Brittany could do anything and was the most unicorn of all.
Then, to add to the confusion, Santana still had a date with Audrey on Sunday. She glanced over at Brittany and watched the blonde laugh while crinkling her nose a bit as Kurt and Rachel reached the end of their one-act. It wasn't fair to Audrey to ditch her just because Brittany had showed up. A few hours ago, the upcoming date was one of the highlights of Santana's day. Now, she felt somewhat torn. She knew that she needed to get out in the world and experience more than just… a relationship with Brittany. Like Quinn once said, she was only nineteen and needed to be out gaining life experiences. Brittany should understand that. Santana couldn't abandon all the changes she'd made just because this blonde hand strolled back into her life. She needed to maintain her work ethic, her social life, and if Brittany could fit into all that—then all the better.
Kurt flopped down on the couch, interrupting her thoughts.
"That's a true story, Brit. The homeless man chased Rachel and myself for three blocks after we tried to assuage his anger with number from Cats: the Musical but it only seemed to make him more upset," Kurt recalled, slurring slightly, as Brittany giggled. Rachel was pouring the rest of the wine from the bottle and gave a solemn shrug.
"You'd think a stirring rendition of 'Skimbleshanks: the Railway Cat' would please him… but you'd be wrong," she sadly acknowledged, hiccupping, then joining them on the couch.
Kurt rolled his eyes, leaning in to loudly whisper to the blonde beside him. "I told her that a version of 'Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer' would be more well received but she ignored me..." Rachel smacked his arm playfully as they both erupted in giggles.
Brittany smiled at both of them, sipping her wine. "I have no idea what either of those songs are," she admitted, "but they both sound… amazing?"
Kurt and Rachel practically erupted upon hearing this.
"You don't know those numbers? Dear Lord," Kurt appeared flabbergasted. He dramatically twirled (and almost fell off the couch) to look at Rachel, whose gaze was equally shocked. "This is a Broadway emergency." Rachel nodded firmly and finished her glass of wine.
"You must be educated, Brittany. We'll perform both songs for you and then you can give your opinion about which number would be most appropriate to sing to an enraged homeless man. Santana, will you open a new bottle of wine? Kurt and I have to go find his stage cat ears and some makeup so we can do this right," Rachel buzzed, grabbing Kurt's hand. They leapt off the couch, nearly falling over the coffee table, and disappeared through the curtain into the boy's bedroom, obviously to ransack his costume trunk.
Santana sighed and got to her feet, walking to the kitchen with the now-empty wine bottle. She heard Brittany join her as she opened the fridge and grabbed another bottle. She glanced over and saw the blonde leaning against the counter, intently watching her. She sobered up slightly when she realized that they were alone together with Rachel and Kurt occupied elsewhere.
"Are they always like this?" Brittany asked absentmindedly while playing with the hem of her shirt.
Santana nodded, searching through drawers to locate the corkscrew. "Yep, almost always. They are loud and wake me up constantly with their damn singing and make me watch musicals all the time…" she groaned with a smirk, pulling the opener from a jumble of utensils. She fumbled several times with the device and then went to work on the wine bottle, uncorking it after several tries. Her fingers didn't work too well after she'd been drinking a lot. She turned to Brittany whose eyes never left her body. "But they're great. I never thought I'd actually admit to… not hating the fact that I live with them. They were really great when I showed up here suddenly. They made me feel welcome when I was worried that I didn't belong anywhere anymore."
Brittany's smile dropped. Santana could see the concern in her eyes. "You really worried that you didn't belong anywhere?"
Santana shifted uncomfortably on her feet, unsure of how she should answer that question. "I… I really worried that, yes."
Brittany looked like she was heartbroken at that response. She just shook her head and looked down at the floor uncomfortably. "Why…" she suddenly asked, returning her gaze to the brunette's. "Why did you think you didn't belong anywhere?"
"Because, Brit… I always thought that…" Santana's courage faltered visibly before she could finish her thought. She cleared her throat and collected herself, trying not to slur her words. "Because I always thought that I belonged with you. When I came to Lima and realized that I didn't anymore, I didn't know what to do with myself. So I came here."
She didn't wait for Brittany's reaction. She stumbled briskly back into the living room and seated herself on the couch. The blonde didn't follow her immediately, but rather stayed standing in the kitchen for a moment longer. Santana poured herself a large glass of wine and finished it quickly, then refilled her now-empty glass.
The couch shifted as Brittany sat down beside her. They could hear Rachel and Kurt drunkenly bickering over the color of their whiskers in the other room, but the two of them remained silent. Santana poured Brittany more wine and then leaned back against the couch. It was weird having long, unfilled pauses with the blonde; they'd never seemed to find lulls in their conversations before now. It felt strange and wrong.
"I don't know if it will matter if I say it…" Brittany finally spoke, her voice sounding less enthusiastic than Santana could remember, "but I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for accusing you of leaving me behind when you got busy in Louisville with school and cheerleading. It was my idea to apply for that scholarship… and then I resented you when you took advantage of the opportunity. That was selfish of me… so incredibly selfish. I'm sorry for not telling you that I was with Sam… and for choosing him over you when you came back. I saw you in the auditorium with him…"
Santana's heart was pounding against her ribcage. "The auditorium?" She muttered it like it was a question but it wasn't really. As soon as Brittany had mentioned it, Santana knew exactly what she was referring to. She had no idea that the blonde knew that she'd had a musical altercation with Sam. How much did she even hear? The part where Sam pointed out that she still had feelings for Brittany? Or the part where she said she'd never give up on trying to get her back? Shit.
"Yes, the auditorium. I know what happened between you two," Brittany stated but didn't elaborate further; she sipped her wine instead.
"Brit, I was hurt and I needed someone to... unload on. I shouldn't have tried to pick an argument with him," Santana tried to explain. She wasn't sure where Brittany was going with all this.
The blonde shook her head. "No, Santana, don't apologize for what happened." She sighed and ran her fingers along the edge of the wine glass. "When I witnessed what happened in the auditorium, I knew you'd stay for me. I couldn't ask you to do that. So I chose Sam to make sure you'd go. I'm sorry if I hurt you. I just… I wanted to you start your life. You couldn't do it in Ohio… and you couldn't do it if you thought we still had any chance."
Santana felt the pieces click in her fuzzy head. She finally understood Brittany's motivation for what happened. She knew the blonde had a valid reason for doing what she did. "I would have stayed… you're right," she admitted softly, her mind buzzing with this new information. "Well I'm sorry it didn't work out with him. I saw a picture of you two at graduation and you two looked really happy together."
Brittany shook her head, incredulous at this comment. "Stop, Santana."
Santana felt her head humming with all the alcohol she'd consumed. She hadn't realized how messed up she was until she'd downed that glass of wine in one fell swoop. "No… it's ok to talk about it. Break ups are hard and if you need to… vent or something, I'm here. That's what friends do."
Brittany halted her with a hand on her wrist. The skin that her fingers touched seemed to burn. Santana gulped. "You don't get it, do you? I'm not sad about Sam. I broke up with him when there was even the most remote of chances that I was headed to New York and would be near you again. I broke up with him because as sweet and as nice as he was… he didn't stand a chance against you," Brittany told her firmly. "Because… you win. There is no competition when it comes to my heart—because you always win."
The breath died in Santana's lungs rendering her speechless. Her heart fluttered and beat wildly. The room swam around her head and the only still point in the turning, whirling madness was Brittany's endless blue eyes. They remained firm and provided Santana with a focal point when she thought she might float away.
She didn't get a chance to respond because suddenly Kurt and Rachel dramatically (sloppily) entered the living room wearing cat ears and showcasing their elaborately painted faces. In their drunken state, they'd done a rather poor job of making themselves look like felines: the whiskers on their cheeks were skewed and uneven. It was a pretty hilarious sight to behold. They seemed oblivious to the moment they'd just interrupted.
"Ok ladies," Kurt announced, tipsy and trying to sound more catlike by meowing intermittently, "we're going to start with Rachel's chosen number and then we'll do mine. You two decide which one is more appropriate for the given circumstances." With that, Kurt and Rachel launched into their respective numbers, complete with cat dancing moves and rolling around on the floor for effect.
Santana could barely pay attention to their ridiculous song and dance routine. Any other time, she would have ripped them a new one. She would have mercilessly mocked them for spending so much time painting one another's faces to look like cats and then donning stupid ears to complete the same look as a toddler who'd been dropped on their head. She would have urged them to get spayed and neutered and then rolled her eyes a couple times for good measure. But at this moment, she was too busy replaying Brittany's words in her head over and over again.
When the caterwauling eventually stopped, Santana let Brittany make up some excuse that both songs seemed equally good for placating an erratic hobo. Satisfied with this response, Kurt and Rachel stopped singing, which benefitted everyone. Then they'd all returned to trading stories, reliving old Glee club memories, and drinking wine—but not before Brittany snatched the cat ears off of Kurt's head and put them on. The cat ears on her roommates looked terrible, Santana mused, but when Brittany wore them, they were exceptionally adorable. She giggled as Brittany took Rachel's pair and slid them onto her head, smoothing her dark hair for a moment with a small smile before sitting back on the couch. If her roommates had attempted to make her wear cat ears, she would have told them to go fuck themselves. However, wearing a matching pair with Brittany was something else entirely. She just dumbly smiled at the sweet gesture and ignored the looks her roommates were shooting at her.
The evening became a blur. When Santana sobered up (because they ran out of wine) she noticed it was early morning instead of late at night. They'd spent hours drinking and catching up.
"Holy shit," she exclaimed, glancing over at Kurt and Rachel who were slumped over on the couch together. Brittany was curled up beside them too; remarkably, her clothes had stayed on (she must have blown straight past her stripper drunk stage to just really drunk instead). "Guys, it's like… three in the morning."
Brittany sat up suddenly, rubbing her eyes. Her cat eyes sat on her head at a weird angle, mussing up her hair a bit in the back. She looked adorable, Santana noted through her haze. Brittany yawned and stretched, her shirt riding up to show off a sliver of taut skin and her belly button. Santana gulped and managed to drag her eyes away. "I should be getting back to my dorm," Brittany muttered, standing up. She stumbled a bit as she tried to get a bearing on her surroundings.
Kurt sat up and reached out to grab her hand. "Don't be ridiculous, Brit. It's almost three. You're in New York now—which means it's sketchy as fuck outside and there's no way any of us are putting you in a taxi and sending you out into the unknown," he told her, pulling her back to the couch. "Stay here tonight."
Rachel rolled off the couch and then ungracefully clamored up from off of the floor. "I second Kurt's suggestion," she slurred. Then she managed to shuffle her way into her bedroom. They heard her bed creak as she collapsed on top of it, probably passing out. Kurt rolled his eyes as they all heard a soft snoring emanating from the darkness beyond the curtain.
Brittany's eyes shot to Santana's, unsure it she was ok with her sleeping over. Santana rolled her eyes in response. "Of course you're staying, Brit. You can't leave drunk at three in the morning." She got to her feet and waved Kurt off, telling him that she'd take care of Brittany. He shot her a very glazed over smirk that read yeah you will before he bade them both farewell and disappeared off to his room.
Suddenly Santana found herself alone with Brittany in the empty living room. She tried to ignore the gnawing feeling in her gut that tried to convince her to urge the blonde to just share her bed rather than sleep on the couch. She beckoned Brittany to follow her to the bedroom. "Come on, I'll get you some sleep clothes. You probably don't want to sleep in that sundress."
Santana didn't know if Brittany had seen her room already. Rachel probably conducted a tour before she'd gotten home from work, pointing out the insane nuances and historical intricacies of the loft. "Here is where Kurt and I performed our first duet upon moving in!" "Here's where Santana went all Snix on me after I tried to give her a NYADA application for the fall semester and told she that she wasn't gay enough for musical theater." Santana almost heard the brunette's shrill voice echoing away in her own mind.
Even if Rachel had given Brittany a tour of the room, the blonde didn't act like it. In fact, she looked like she'd crossed over the wardrobe into Narnia and could scarcely believe it. She slowly walked around, running her fingers over every surface like she wanted to absorb any memories she'd missed. She tried hard not to spend too much time feeling the soft fabric of the dresses Santana had hanging up, possibly reminiscing over the curves where they'd clung to. Brittany also pointedly avoided looking over the bed in the center of the space. Santana watched as the blonde bypassed it to step over to the desk on the other side of the room.
The creaking of drawers pulled Brittany from the reverence she was showing towards Santana's room. She watched as Santana handed her a pair of sleep shorts and a tank top.
"Thanks," she spoke softly, taking the clothes in her hands. "Where should I change… um…"
Santana interjected. "The bathroom… if you want," she suggested. She shifted awkwardly on her feet, dropping her eyes. "I'll get some blankets and a pillow."
Brittany didn't say anything at this. She just nodded sharply and exited through the curtain.
Santana changed into her own sleep clothes rather quickly, putting on just a navy tank top and a pair of red short shorts. She turned to gather an extra pillow and pull a blanket from her bed. She was bent over, reaching for the pillow when she felt Brittany's presence behind her. The brunette snapped around, catching the blonde eying her lithe body, as she was half on the bed. The sight of Brittany's eyes on her made her skin prick and a heat course through her. Brittany noticed that she'd been caught and blushed with a small smirk.
"Sorry," Brittany grinned, "old habits."
Santana just laughed and threw the pillow at her. It was strange how… normal this all felt. She hadn't seen Brittany in months and here she was standing in the bedroom, wearing Santana's clothes and preparing for bed. It felt so natural that Santana was a little taken aback by it. If she weren't cognizant of all the history that had transpired between them since she'd left last summer— she would assume that this was like any other night with Brittany sleeping over. She'd slipped into the comfortable routine that they'd always had… like the past year hadn't happened.
But the past year had happened. They'd broken up. Santana ended things and then dropped out of school while Brittany began dating Sam. Then the blonde had rejected her attempt to get back together while encouraging the brunette to move to New York. Santana was in the midst of a self-imposed exile of Lima and Brittany was about to start at Juilliard. The people they were months ago were far different than who they both were now. Some changes couldn't be ignored.
Santana remembered all this while trying to ignore the pull she felt towards Brittany as the blonde stood there, waiting for her to say something. She kept her eyes off of the way the tank top showed off Brittany's amazing shoulders and toned arms… and the shorts only added length to her long, smooth legs. She fought back her instincts to touch the other girl by handing off the pillows and blankets, setting them into Brittany's arms to avoid filling them with her own body.
"You can sleep on the couch," Santana stated, trying to convince herself that this was the best solution. Brittany nodded and smiled slipped through the curtains. Santana watched as she settled down, positioning her head on the pillow and throwing the blanket over herself.
Santana busied herself with turning off the lights around the loft, saving the lamp near the couch for last. "Well… I'll just be through that curtain if you need anything, Brit," she informed her. The blonde just nodded her head thankfully, pulling the soft comforter around her body and snuggling up. Santana briefly regretted telling her to sleep out here and then felt her chest ache. She missed cuddling with Brittany, having her as the last person she saw before falling asleep. It almost topped her list under things that she both loved and missed—but Brittany herself always took the first spot.
Santana's arm rose to click the light off, but not before taking one last look at Brittany. The blonde had her face pressed into the pillow, inhaling the fabric deeply and then she shot her a shy smile.
"It smells like you… so do these clothes," Brittany noted in a low voice. "It's… comforting."
Santana couldn't bear to comment on what she'd said. She felt too overwhelmed by the confusing feelings that were seeping into her. She had too much to consider about this terrifying, exhilarating, new development in her life. So she just smiled weakly and told the blonde goodnight. She clicked off the lamp, cloaking the room in darkness. Then she shuffled back to her room. She peaked out at the darkened shape on the couch, only feet away, before she closed the curtain behind her.
She slipped into her bed and tried to calm herself. It drove her insane to know that Brittany, the girl she'd been heartbroken over and the obvious great love of her life, was single and about six feet away on the couch in the living room. Santana couldn't just jump back into things, not after what she'd been through. It wasn't fair that any of this was happening, she told herself over and over again. It just wasn't.
Santana tossed and turned for long minutes, her mind working too hard to allow her to fall asleep. She rolled onto her back and absentmindedly reached her hand over to the empty space next to her, seizing the sheet in her hand, feeling the coolness beneath her fingers.
Her phone lit up on the nightstand next to her. She snatched up it and for the first time in months, saw that she had a text message from Brittany. She quickly read over what it said.
Can't sleep. You?
Santana's breath hitched in her throat. She snapped her head to look at the sliver of blackness outside the gash in the curtain to where Brittany would be on the couch. She debated her response, reading over the words again and again. Her fingers typed out a message before she had time to properly consider the consequences of it.
Couch is kinda lumpy. You want to come in here?
She never got a response. Instead, within a few seconds, she heard the couch creak and the soft padding of Brittany's feet. Before she knew it, the blonde was sliding into the bed next to her, occupying the space she always had. She hadn't checked before pulling back the blankets if Santana was on her side, or had to ask her to move. She automatically knew somehow that when she went to that side of the bed, it would be empty and waiting for her. It was Santana's tender reliability and Brittany's blind faith in her demonstrated in one simple act.
Brittany should have known better. Once she was in the bed, tucked under the blankets and face to face with the brunette, she could feel the resolve she vowed to maintain slowly slipping. She wanted to be with Santana again—body and soul—for the long haul. She wanted nothing more than to pretend like they'd never broken up, ignore that the past months never happened, and then straddle the brunette. She wanted to know if Santana still kissed the same way she always did, with those soft supple lips and a hint of tongue. She wanted to dip her mouth to the other girl's and make up for the lost time (they weren't discussing, rather actively ignoring).
But she'd hurt Santana too much to ask for that. Brittany needed to figure out how to be friends, without the benefits, and build trust between them. She had to start somewhere else and prove to the other girl that she wasn't going to leave again, that she only wanted Santana… that she knew the brunette was worth fighting for. So she kept her limbs and mouth to herself and just watched Santana's face. Flickers of emotion played over the brunette's features, giving away that she was definitely as confused as Brittany was.
It was as if she had been reading the other's girls mind.
"You have no idea how much I want to forget that any time has passed," Santana stammered, staring into the blonde's endless blue eyes. "I want to be that Santana again and just… take you into my arms and kiss you like I used to. My whole body aches to do it… but I can't. My heart can't take it. I can't just dive headfirst into things. I can't forget that rejection, those empty months, that loneliness. I need time," she whispered softly. "But it's so hard to be this close and to tell my body not to react to yours."
"I'm not asking anything of you," Brittany reminded, her hands clutching at the blankets as if to keep from reaching out to the other girl.
"I know you're not- not verbally, Brit. I just have so much shit to work through… my mind is a fucking mess."
"What's wrong, Santana? What's going on inside that head?" Brittany wondered aloud, lightly touching the soft hairs at the other girl's temples. Santana fought against the urge to cry.
"I just don't know what to do, Brit. We've been apart for a while now. I have a life here, one that I want you to be part of, but I need you to understand how…" she gulped and inhaled deeply, "how things are different now. I have been without you for so long that I need to relearn to trust myself with you again. I can't just go back to the way we were. I've been hurt too much and become too cynical. The good you promised was in me… maybe it's hidden better, deeper somewhere inside and I have a harder time finding it now. I need to figure out how to be around you again without being… with you."
"I'm not expecting to show up and get back together with you," Brittany admitted with a slight, sad shrug. "You have an entire life here that you've been building. I refuse to ask you to change any part of who you are here. You have relationships with people and memories of places and events… and I will never understand them the way that you do. I have a lot of work to do, San, and I don't mean in school or at the dance studio. I need to show you who I am now. You know the Lima Brittany… the girl you met when we were 15. I've been gone from your life for six months too. I've changed. It's going to take time," Brittany reluctantly stated. "We need to figure out who we are… who we are with one another as friends before we can hope for anything more. I think it's for the best. We need to find our place in one another's lives again."
Santana felt a pang within her, realizing how much the blonde had grown up in the year since everyone else graduated. Brittany looked somber and reserved as she told the brunette these things. She spoke with the insight and wisdom of someone who has had to move on from the person they always thought they were and figure out what was really inside all along.
"So… you just want to be friends?"
"Don't you think that's the best we can hope for right now? I've been in New York for like… a day now. I need to be more independent, San. I think I realized that this summer," Brittany told her. "I went from hooking up with almost everyone at McKinley, to secretly sleeping with you, to dating Artie, to being in a relationship with you, to Sam. I think this is a good time to find out who I am by myself; I need to spend some time focusing on that. I want you in my life again, I absolutely know that… but for now, I think just working at being friends is the best way to be around one another."
"I… I really missed you," Santana stated, her voice rising to barely above a whisper. "I keep thinking this is a dream and I'm going to wake up and… you will have been just another figment of my imagination."
Brittany's initial thought to prove that she was really there was to lean over and kiss Santana until she was reassured. But she didn't. She just gave the other girl a small smile. "I'm really here, San," she reassured the worried brunette. "I'm not going anywhere. And… I really missed you too."
Santana watched as the blonde reached out, finding her hand in the dark. The brunette observed as a slim pinky finger on Brittany's left hand intertwined itself with the same finger on her own right hand. It was such a simple gesture but it meant so much. The volume of emotion and history behind it almost took Santana's breath away.
Then she wasn't there anymore. It was as she'd slipped like Alice and fallen deep down a rabbit hole, remembering.
They'd devised the interlocking of their smallest fingers as a substitute for hand holding when they were sophomores. It was the year that Santana had realized that the kiss in the pool over the previous summer haunted her and she was driven by some cosmic force to do it again. She'd acted like it was no big deal at the time, getting drunk and then using that as an excuse to try it again with Brittany at a party. They'd danced together dozens of times but this time it felt different, Santana remembered noticing. Brittany's eyes had a glint in them, betraying something else brewing inside the blonde's mind. Santana had ignored it and continued grinding against the other girl, oblivious to the rest of the world- Brittany tended to have that effect on her.
Before Santana knew what hit her, they were in the bathroom, pressed against the door, hands tangled in each other's hair. Brittany's mouth had been so sweet, like vodka and bubblegum mixed, that Santana didn't know how she'd ever manage to detach her lips from the blonde's. The girl's body fit against her own so perfectly that Santana could immediately feel every breath Brittany took. She sensed the soft inhale and exhale of air through the blonde's nose upon her face as they kissed, but Santana also felt the quick movement of Brittany's ribcage as they smashed their torsos together in an attempt to get closer.
Finally Brittany had pulled away, pressing her forehead against Santana's. The only sounds they'd heard came the booming bass of the party downstairs and the ragged breaths that came from their now-separated lips.
"I've never done that before," Brittany had mumbled when she'd gotten enough oxygen to speak again. She ran her fingers up and down Santana's arms, creating goose bumps.
Santana raised one eyebrow in confusion. "Done what? You've kissed someone before, Brit. Hell, we kissed in my pool this summer, remember?"
"I've never kissed someone who I have actual… real… intense… feelings for… until now," Brittany whispered, so low that Santana wasn't even sure she'd heard it correctly until the blonde had looked up at her, somewhat sheepishly. Her breath died in her lungs, as their foreheads remained pressed against one another's.
Santana didn't (at that time) have the nerve to say anything back to the blonde, so she showed her how the admission made her feel. But instead of grabbing at Brittany again, Santana leaned in a softly kissed her, lips tender and sweet rather than rushed and frantic. When she pulled back, something in Brittany's eyes expressed that despite the lack of words, the feeling was mutual.
Santana remembered staring into those blue eyes, past long lashes and into Brittany's soul in that moment.
After that, they'd had a long discussion about how Santana cared about Brittany but wasn't quite comfortable with holding hands or gross amounts of PDA. So they compromised by holding pinkies wherever they went. It was a way to feel close to one another without acting in a manner that could be construed as romantic by an outside observer. It was how they said they loved one another without words. It was how they stayed emotionally engaged when they couldn't physically.
The gesture spoke volumes if you listened closely enough.
That's why when Brittany did it then, in the dark, in Santana's bed, after all those long months—it spoke volumes too.
It was a promise. It was a vow to rebuild their foundation, one emotional brick at a time. It was a guarantee that when Santana fell asleep that night, Brittany would be there in the morning—that she'd be there every morning if she was allowed to be. It was a declaration that they were both in this together even if… for now… all they could be were friends.
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