Brittany stepped out of the classroom, and pressed the connect button on her phone. She had been proctoring an exam when her phone started to vibrate in her pocket. This was her last exam of the semester, and then she'd be as free as a bird. Well, not technically. She still had some lectures to give around the city, a trip to Strasbourg to plan, and she also would be going to her sister's birthday party that weekend, but she'd certainly have more time than she did now. It had been a week since the last time she'd seen Santana. She'd spent most of the time calling, texting and emailing, but without getting a reply. When she wasn't trying to contact Santana, she spent hours on the phone with Mercedes and Rachel, trying to figure out a way to make it work. Mercedes told her that Santana was miserable. After having a great show at the Garage, offers for more gigs had come swarming in, and they have a few more show dates in the future. But Santana, though she was physically there practicing, couldn't seem to work up any enthusiasm for their show.
Apparently Quinn had worked her magic and gotten Santana back into her apartment, and when Mercedes had gone by she had found Santana in a makeshift pillow fort surrounded by tissues and cartons of ice cream. She hadn't been able to do anything to snap her out of it.
"It's like all she does is go to work, then go home and wallow."
"Maybe I should come by."
"I dunno, Britt. If you just show up and start knocking, she's not going to answer. And if she knows it's you, she definitely won't answer."
"Oh."
"Look, just hang in there. We'll figure something out."
"Okay." Brittany said sadly. "And Mercedes… Thanks for helping me, you're kind of the best."
"Kind of? Girl, I am the best." She responded, laughingly. "Anyway, I'm not just doing this for you, because you're head over heels for Santana, and are pretty cool yourself. I'm doing it because I know that you make her happy. And that's enough for me."
"Well, whatever your reason, thank you."
With that Brittany got off the line, she couldn't shake the feeling that she needed to see Santana. That maybe just seeing her would make everything better. She had a plan, but she wasn't sure if it would work. After the exam was over, she rushed back to her office, and made a call. Hurrying down the stairs she handed a package off to Natalie, who had to take her bike to make it across town in time. She got in her car, and finally arriving at the Gordon St. Park, took a seat on one of the benches near the front.
She waited, and waited and waited. Half an hour turned into one, then two, and the sun began to set behind the trees. The streetlights began to come on, and Brittany could see children scurrying home before it got too dark. She sighed deeply. She knew her plan wasn't perfect but she'd hoped…
Suddenly, her thoughts were broken by the sound of someone pedaling towards her. She looked up and Santana was riding towards her on her bicycle, raven black hair peeking out from under her helmet. She had a distracted look on her face, and didn't notice Brittany even as she walked towards the front gate of the park, and looked down at her iPad to make sure of the address.
"You're at the right place." Brittany said, standing up.
Santana turned towards her. Eyes round. She looked around as though she was convinced she was on one of those hidden camera shows.
Brittany held out her hand, reaching for the package in Santana's arms.
"That's for me. Well, I sent it anyway."
Santana sighed. "I was wondering about that. There's usually a sender and receiver on this form. But it only has the sender. Natalie Davis. One of your TAs, right?"
Brittany smiled a little. "My assistant, but yeah. That's her. You met her the other night."
"Ah."
Santana handed Brittany the package and made to get back on her bike.
"Well, there you go."
"Wait! Santana." Brittany reached after her. "See, this package, well, I sent it, but it's really for you."
Santana raised an eyebrow. "I was wondering why Frank insisted I carry this one."
Brittany lifted the package towards Santana, who only looked at it for a moment with a suspicious eye.
Trying a different track, Brittany took another step forward. "How have you been?"
Santana didn't meet her eye. "Good." She said, far too quickly. "I've just been working, you know."
"Do you have any more shows soon?"
"No." She lied, not meeting Brittany's eye.
They stood for another moment in silence.
"Well, I'd better get going. I've got a few more deliveries before I'm off." Santana made a move towards her bike again.
"Wait!" Brittany took another step towards her. She was so close she could almost touch Santana.
"Brittany-"
"Why didn't you answer my calls? Or my texts? Or my emails?"
Brittany could feel the tears close to the surface. She didn't want to cry, not now, not like this, but her emotions were getting the better of her.
Santana moved towards her and put a hand on her arm.
"I'm sorry, Britt." she whispered softly. "I'm really sorry."
"Why?" Brittany demanded.
Santana looked away again, and Brittany could see the tears forming in her eyes as well.
"Because I thought it would be easier."
Brittany was getting angry. "Easier for who? Easier for you? What about me, Santana? Did you ever think about how I feel? Did you ever think about how it feels to just be dropped like that? I really like you, Santana, I really wanted something real with you, and then you just disappear, and leave me…"
Brittany couldn't continue. The lump in her throat was too big, she couldn't speak around it. She tried to swallow, but all she could do was sniffle as the tears came coursing down her face.
Santana broke them, moving up to Brittany and wrapping her arms around her.
"No, no, sweetie, not easier for me. Easier for you. I swear, I didn't want to hurt you."
"Then why did you, San?" Brittany managed to whimper, burrowing her head into Santana's shoulder.
"I'm sorry, Britt. I'm so sorry."
Brittany could only hold on to Santana, breathing heavily into her shoulder, drenching her shirt in hot tears and mucus. Brittany could feel the air getting forced out of Santana's lungs as well, as she tried hard to stay calm for the both of them.
After a few moments, Brittany seemed to get her breath back, and took a step back from Santana, keeping her arms tight around her.
"Answer me, Santana." She said, her blue eyes darkened in the fading sun.
Santana looked down, and after a moment, looked straight up into the sky, as if she were asking god for strength and resolve.
"Because I'm not good enough." She said, with some finality.
"Good enough for what?"
"Good enough for you. You're, you're amazing, Britt. You're so smart, and so kind, and so, I dunno, everything. I'm just this woman with a shit job, and a shit future, who has some pipe dream about being a singer. You deserve someone who can take you places, and teach you things and…"
Brittany cut her off with a kiss. It was gentle, but she hoped it contained all she wanted to say. She wanted Santana to shut up, and stop thinking so hard. She wanted her to know that she liked her just the way she was. Brittany wanted the kiss to tell Santana that it didn't matter what she did for a living or where should could take her, or any of that crap. Santana was out of breath when she pulled away.
It took Santana a few moments to open up her eyes, and she looked at Brittany with something like awe in her face.
"Oh, Britt."
Before Brittany could reply, Santana took a few steps back, and grabbed her bike, taking it off the kickstand. As she put her foot up on the pedal, Brittany lifted the package towards Santana again.
"At least take this. It's for you. Please."
Santana reached out a hand, and grabbed the package, putting it into her bag. She threw a sad smile towards Brittany as she pedaled away.
\
Santana was laying on Mercedes couch with a laptop on her stomach. She'd been watching Xena for the past four hours, and had only moved to go to the bathroom (once), and get more gummy worms (twice). Mercedes would come by every so often, huff a bit, and then leave, but Santana couldn't work up the energy to be annoyed. She was comfortable, occupied, and she wasn't sitting in her house for her first day off since the last time she saw her.
Dammit. She'd been trying not to think about Brittany. Ever since she saw her in the park, she could feel her resolve quickly crumbling. She looked over at her bag that was one Mercedes' arm chair. She felt as though she could see the package inside the bag, still wrapped in the paper that she hadn't dared to tear.
Santana sighed, closing her laptop and pushing it onto the coffee table. She stared at the ceiling, feeling the tears prick at the corner of her eyes. She still wasn't sure why this had to be so hard. She'd broken up with girls before, that wasn't new. But there was something different about Brittany, something that made her feel like she was caught in her gravitational pull. She picked up her phone from in between the cushions.
Once a day since they'd last seen each other, Brittany had texted her a place and a time. Nothing more. Santana assumed that it was a meeting place, and she'd always try to figure out exactly where it was. Once it was a fancy restaurant downtown. Once it was the modern art museum. Once the aquarium, and once it was a seedy little dive bar in Queens. Every time it was a different place, and every time Santana felt that indescribable pull to go and meet her there. But in the end, she'd ignored her clamoring emotions and focused on her work. She'd ridden her bike a little harder, trying not to think of the day that she'd found herself flat on her back and looking into the eyes of the most amazing person in the world.
And that was the thing. Of course she thought Brittany was amazing. She was too amazing. She always knew what to say to make Santana feel better, she always had that look in her eye that made Santana want to kiss her, she would smile, or just exist, and Santana would lose her breath at the beauty of it all.
But there was still that nagging voice in the back of her head. The voice that told her she would never be good enough for Brittany. That she would never be all that she needed. It was hard to hear, but Santana knew that the voice was right. She was just a broke woman with a pipe dream, and a nice bicycle. Brittany deserved better.
Santana had rolled onto her stomach, and was staring at the phone screen. Brittany hadn't texted her and it was already past noon. She sighed loudly as Mercedes came into the room again, and sat on the armchair, sliding Santana's bag out of the way.
"Hey, careful with that!" Santana snapped, reaching out to grab the bag from Mercedes, who snatched it out of her grasp in annoyance.
"Hey, yourself. I didn't invite you over to my apartment, Santana, so you could mope around on my couch all day."
"No, you did it so I wouldn't be in my house all day. And it worked, I'm no longer in my house." Santana reached for the bag again.
"Nope, I'm not letting you sit in here, gazing at this package for another minute."
With that, Mercedes reached into the bag, pulling out the package and holding it up for Santana to see.
"Either you open this thing up, San, or I will."
Santana was up off the couch faster than Mercedes would have thought she could be (considering she hadn't moved in hours), and was reaching for the parcel.
"Mercedes, don't play. That's mine, and you can't open it. Opening other people's mail is a federal offense, in case you were wondering."
She reached her hand past Mercedes, but the other woman held her hand up, blocking her path.
"Santana, I've never seen you this broken up about, well, anything. There is something different about Brittany, and the sooner you accept it and go after her the better off you'll be."
"Mercedes, you don't understand. I'm not good for her. I'm not good enough."
Mercedes' eyes softened and she stopped pushing Santana away.
"What does that even mean?"
"It means that I don't have a fancy degree, or any degree for that matter. I do a terrible job that I don't even like for terrible pay, and my life is shitty. She could do so much better than me."
Mercedes sighed and handed the package to Santana.
"Are you a bad person, Santana?"
The question caught Santana off guard. She was expecting Mercedes to feed her some line about being good enough or that she had something to offer Brittany after all. She sat back down on the couch, clutching the package in her hands.
"What do you mean?" she questioned quietly.
Mercedes sat close to Santana, their knees knocking together.
"I mean, what do you see when you look in the mirror? Past the shitty job, and the messed up apartment situation. Past what you have and who you are."
Santana shrugged. "I dunno. I mean, that's kind of a heavy question."
"Well, I'll tell you what I see. I see a person who, yeah, sometimes can be a bit of a bitch, but someone who, once they're on your side, would do anything for you."
"'Cedes-"
"Do you remember that time last year, when I was dating that guy from Brooklyn, and after we broke up he trashed my guitar and left it in a dumpster?"
Santana grimaced, and nodded softly. She had never seen her friend look so broken.
"Do you remember how you snuck into the men's shower at the gym and put Nair into his his shampoo, and the next time we saw him, he had that hat that he'd never take off?"
At this Santana smiled. She had spent about forty five minutes trying to snatch it off his head to make Mercedes laugh. Every time she got close, he'd scurry away with a scandalized look on his face. She hadn't seen Mercedes that happy since they'd broken up, and it made it all worth it.
"Or the time when Lauren lost her job at the firehouse, and you called in favors until you were talking to the fire chief? Then you made up that ridiculous story about her saving your cat from a tree, and that the company had to have her back."
Lauren had lost the job because of budget cuts (she was one of several firefighters let go), but she had made such a stink with the chief (and then the mayor), that the funding was restored and they were taken off furlough.
"Or the time that Mike got sick and Tina was out of town, and you rode to his house twice a day to make sure he ate and didn't drown in his own vomit?"
Santana smirked again, shaking her head. "He was so pathetic. He fell off the toilet twice."
"And you only told that story to about twenty people." Mercedes laughed.
Santana composed herself, and looked down at her hands.
"But, that's different, 'Cedes. You guys are my friends. I have love for you. That's what friends are supposed to do. You've met Brittany. She's a ray of sunshine that nobody can stop. She's pretty much the sweetest person in the entire world."
Mercedes took one of Santana's hands in her own. "I don't know if anybody will make the case that you're the sweetest person in the world, Santana. But you're a good person. Bad people don't care about others the way that you do."
Santana folded her arms and slumped against the back of the couch.
"What does all that have to do with anything?"
"Santana." Mercedes sat forward and caught her eye. "You have to stop believing that because you're not perfect, you don't deserve to be happy. We all know you, we know you're not perfect, but we love you anyway. And I think Brittany feels the same way."
Santana didn't reply, but turned over the package in her hands.
Mercedes sighed, kissed her friend gently on the cheek, and grabbed her purse.
"Anyway, I'm going out. You better call me if you need anything, or I'll kick your ass."
Santana finally managed to smirk. "You going out with fish face again?"
"His name is Sam, Santana, and for all your noises to the contrary, I know you actually like him too."
Santana just shrugged, pulling the package closer to her chest.
"Anyway, use the key to lock up if you leave. I'd actually prefer it to you sitting on the couch, marathoning Xena for another three hours."
Mercedes took one last look at Santana, sighed and closed the door behind her.
Mercedes was right of course. She liked Sam. He was a good guy, and he treated Mercedes well. This including being nice to all her friends. But she didn't want people thinking she'd gone soft.
Santana looked down again at the package in her hands. She turned it over, shaking it to listen to it's contents. She had delivered enough packages to see that it was a book, and a heavy one at that. But she was sure she could also hear something rattling around inside. She had stopped herself from opening it about a million times. She'd hold it in her hands, turning it over, and sometimes sit it on the nearest table, just staring at it. It was never far from her. Yesterday, when she was doing deliveries, it had sat snug in her bag. And last night, at the club, she had tucked it under the bar, every so often running her hand over it just to remember that it was there. She sometimes wondered if it meant anything at all. Maybe Brittany had used it just as an excuse to get closer to her, and say what she wanted to say. Maybe it was just a random book that Brittany had picked off the shelf, and hastily wrapped. Maybe it meant nothing at all. But even if that were true, it was the last thing that Brittany might ever give to her, and that meant something.
Santana sighed, laying on her stomach and fiddled with that paper some more. She wanted to think that Mercedes was right; that she was a person worth loving, worth being loved. Her parents loved her, she knew that, even though they were always threatening to cut her off (It's for your own good, Santanita). She knew that Mercedes loved her because she was always putting up with her foul moods and tantrums. She knew Mike, Kurt and the rest of the band loved her because they had been together for so long, and knew they could count on each other. She shook her head. It was too much to think about. Maybe another couple of hours of Xena might clear her thoughts.
Santana sat up, reaching for the laptop where it sat on the chair. Suddenly the package shifted. As she went to grab it, her hand slipped, and her heart sunk as she heard a tearing sound.
The package laid on the ground, a strip torn from the back of it. Brittany's face grinned at her from the book cover.
"What the hell?"
Santana picked the parcel up, slowly removing the outer packaging. It was a book, and a very specific one at that.
"On Quantum Theory by Dr. Brittany S. Pierce, Ph.D." Santana read aloud. She chuckled to herself. She remembered the book from Brittany's bookshelf. Brittany had been so embarrassed, suggesting that Santana wouldn't understand it, but she was right. The words might as well been Russian for all she knew. She remembered marveling at the red blush that bloomed on Brittany's cheeks the more she tried to explain herself. Was there anything that that woman did that wasn't adorable?
Santana looked through the packaging. She had been right about the book, but there was still the rattling sound that she's clearly heard before. She shifted through the paper that she'd discarded in her lap, holding up each piece, and examining it carefully. Then lifting up the book to check under it, she realized she could still hear the rattling coming from inside the book.
She opened the cover and found a note transcribed there.
'To Santana. We'll always have Quantum Theory.'
Santana laughed again. She may have to get Brittany to try to explain some of this stuff to her someday. Suddenly the melancholy feeling washed over her. Maybe there wouldn't be a someday with Brittany.
Flipping through a few more pages, she discovered that the book wasn't really just a book. Brittany had carefully cut out a square in the middle of some of the pages, creating was was essentially a hidey hole.
Inside the space was a small, bright pink flash drive. Santana picked it up and shifted it from side to side. Obviously Brittany had wanted her to have it. She wondered what was inside.
Santana hesitated only a moment before plugging it into her computer. She didn't think Brittany would be the type to try to give her a virus or something. The disk was recognized, and Santana saw there was only one file on the drive. Something entitled Fondue for Two: Santana Edition. A smile crept across Santana's face as she double clicked on the video file. Of course it was called that.
"Fondue for Two, Fondue for Two! That's some hot dish! Fondue for Two!"
The music blared through Santana's speakers, and she quickly turned the volume down. The camera was focused on a room in Brittany's house, it looked like it might be her workroom, but Santana had never been to the basement. Santana heard a meow and saw a flash of fur before Brittany entered the frame, and sat down in the middle of it.
"Thank you very much for joining me for a brand new episode of Fondue for Two, Santana. I really hope this is Santana, and if it's not please stop this video, and give this to Santana. If you don't know Santana, then I really screwed up, and I'm going to write my address down in the back cover of the book just in case. Hopefully we can try this again."
Santana chuckled behind her hand. Flipping over the book, and looking in the back cover, she saw Brittany's loopy handwriting. The address of the school, and her office information were dutifully inscribed in the back. She turned her attention back to the screen.
"Santana, I don't have a lot of time for this video, because Lord T is working the camera, and he has an AA meeting to get to in about 15 minutes. But I did have some things to say, and since you wouldn't see me, I figured this was the best way."
Santana turned away at that, swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat. Brittany seemed so vulnerable, so hurt at that moment that she almost ran down the stairs right away to find her. She never wanted to hurt Brittany, and seeing the pain in her eyes was too much. She hated that she'd made her feel that way.
"Anyway, this is not going to be like a regular episode of Fondue for Two, which you can watch on YouTube if you're so inclined, because there aren't going to be any guests. Just you, me, Lord Tubs and the camera."
Brittany waved shyly to the camera, and Santana couldn't help but to wave back.
"First, I want to tell you a story. Ahem." Brittany seemed nervous and wouldn't stop playing with the hem on her dress. "It's something that even Sugar doesn't know." She paused for another moment, gathering her thoughts. "When I was a kid, I was kind of different."
Santana frowned. She didn't like the emphasis that Brittany had put on the word. She could only imagine Brittany as a kid; all wide eyed optimism and boundless energy. She wished she had gotten to meet that girl, but was more than happy with the woman she'd become.
"Anyway, I was a terrible student. My grades sucked. I wouldn't talk to my parents about what was bothering me. I hid behind cheerleading and being one of the popular girls, and only spoke up to confuse people and get them off my case."
Santana couldn't imagine that kind of life for Brittany. Her frown deepened.
"My parents tried everything, tests, drugs, more rules, and I shirked it all. The drugs made me feel like a zombie, and by the time I was 16, I had gotten pretty good at sneaking out the house. I was a mess. Plain and simple."
At this Brittany sighed deeply and looked down at her hands.
"I had a lot of friends, but I kept this a secret from everybody because I was kind of ashamed, and also because I didn't want them to look down on me because of it. But I felt like I wasn't worth much. I was scared and felt alone even when I was surrounded by people."
Brittany looked up at the camera and Santana could see the sadness in her eyes. She could see Brittany thinking back on this time in her life and feeling the regret and the shame. She leaned forward slightly in her chair.
"And then I met a lady named Holly Holiday. She was a substitute teacher at my school, and one day I was talking back to her and she made me stay after class. I thought she was going to lay into me for being disrespectful, but she just sat down across from me and asked me about my day. She asked me about my classes, and what I did and didn't like and she just, I dunno, she just listened. I hadn't had someone treat me like that in a long time. Like I wasn't Brittany the cheerleader, or the crappy student, or the burden, or the idiot."
The smile had returned to Brittany's lips, and Santana found that she was smiling too.
"She started getting me to come to her classroom after class every day. She would ask me about classes, and we would just talk. Eventually, she asked me about my grades, and my classes. Once she found out that math was my favorite subject (something I would never have admitted to anyone else), she started signing me up for math competitions at other schools. I trusted her enough to go, and found that I really liked it and I was really good at it."
Brittany sat back in her chair, reminiscing.
"My other classes were still tough, but she worked with me, and helped me, and I managed to graduate with everyone else. Even though I was sure I'd be held back for another year."
Brittany shrugged, the grin on her face widening.
"I owe everything to Holly, and I still invite her to the city for Leif Eriksson Day."
Santana giggled. She didn't get quite get the joke, but she liked the idea of the bond that Brittany had with her former teacher.
"So, I know you're wondering. What does this have to do with anything? What does it matter that you were a bad student, and what you went through and everything else? Well, I told you that story to tell you that there's no such thing as the perfect person, Santana. I'm not it, and neither are you. Our friends aren't perfect, and our parents aren't, and nobody we've ever met is. But what I am is brave. I learned that lesson from Holly. You have to be brave or you'll never make it. And I think I've been pretty brave. I like you, Santana. I like you a lot. And I know you like me. So, what I need from you now is for you to be brave. I want you to take what you want, and not be afraid that you're not good enough, or that you're not perfect. Because, I want you, Santana. And I'm not perfect and neither are you, but when we look at each other, that's enough."
Santana sat stock still on the couch. She'd drawn a pillow up to her chest and was clutching it tightly. All of the words that Brittany had said, the advice from Rachel, her talks with Mercedes; everything came rushing back. She saw the pain in Brittany's eyes that day at Gordon St. Park. But she also remembered the laughter and the kiss they'd shared in that same place. Dinner and shows in the city, jogging in Central Park, board game nights with Will and Emma. She'd just been so happy. She imagined that she could spend a thousand years with Brittany and never get bored.
"Anyway, Santana, I hope that you see this, and I hope that it means something to you. If you want to find me, you know where I'll be."
Santana paused for a moment before closing her laptop. She dug around in the couch cushions for a few moments and pulled out her phone. Dialing a number, she waited a few moments for Rachel's voice to sound through the line.
"Santana! I was just talking to Quinn about you."
"I swear, is everybody hooking up?"
"It's just a regular date, but I'm glad we're on your mind."
"You wish. I need you to do me a favor."
"For the last time, Santana, I can't get you front row seats to my newest show, I just can't do it."
Santana let the moment pass without comment, pinching the bridge of her nose. She could hear Quinn giggling in the background.
"I need you to get Brittany to The Garage. Today at one o'clock."
"Oooh!" It sounded like Rachel was bursting with excitement. "A romantic secret mission! We can do that, can't we Quinnie?"
Santana heard Quinn agree in the affirmative.
"I'll make sure she's there, come hell or high water." Rachel confirmed.
"Good. I just hope it's not too late."
Rachel laughed. "Never, darling. Trust me, you're right on time."