Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.
Author's Note(s): Um…yes. Hi, all. I completely understand any projectiles being thrown my way right now, but if we could keep it to things smaller than a cushion I'd be very grateful. Very sorry for the delay. Writing is hard! Also, your computer crashing and deleting three-thousand words so you have to rewrite them is hard too. No me gusta. Anywho, as always a massive thank you to everyone who is reading and in particular to those who take the time to review! They are incredibly motivating in times when I want nothing more than to hit my computer with a large, blunt instrument.
This chapter is a little jumpy (one of the reasons it took so long to write) but I'm gonna assume you know by now that when I use italics, the scene is a high school flashback. I hope you enjoy it!
Put On a Happy Face
Chapter 26
After half an hour of peaceful silence, Brittany bade goodnight to their houseguest and made her way to bed. Her talk with Christina had given her quite a bit to think about, even though she had actually been the one doing most of the speaking.
She closed her bedroom door behind her, slid her black dressing gown off her shoulders and placed it gently on the chair in front of the dressing table. Brittany rolled her shoulders and bit back a small groan. Her joints felt itchy from the lack of movement, and not just from today. She always started to feel restless like this when she hadn't danced in so long and it wasn't helping that Santana was…out of action, so to speak, to distract her.
With a loud yawn, Brittany slid into bed and automatically scooted over to Santana's side. She wrapped an arm around Santana's waist and pulled her closer.
"Don't…" Santana mumbled under her breath. Brittany frowned. Don't what?
"What's wrong?" asked Brittany softly. Santana didn't respond but let out a small whimper of frustration. "Santana?" It was then that Brittany noticed her wife's erratic breathing. Brittany bit down on her bottom lip; Santana hadn't taken her sleeping tablets today. She'd fallen asleep on the couch so Brittany had carried her to bed.
"Brittany?" Santana mumbled in a slightly fearful voice.
Swallowing against a lump in her throat, Brittany pressed herself as closely to Santana as she could and draped her leg over her hip. "Shh," Brittany hushed in Santana's ear. "It's okay, honey. I'm here."
Santana let out another whimper.
"I've got you, Santana," said Brittany quietly. She reached over and brushed dark hair from Santana's clammy forehead. "Everything's fine."
It took a few minutes, but eventually Santana stopped trembling and relaxed into Brittany's embrace. Brittany let out a sigh of relief and pressed a soft kiss to the back of Santana's neck. She wasn't sure what she'd have done if Santana had jumped up screaming again. Once was quite enough.
It took Brittany no more than ten minutes to appear in her bedroom after Santana had sent her the SOS text. Either Brittany had all but run to her house or she'd already been on the way. Whichever it was, Santana wasn't as grateful as she probably should have been when her friend stumbled through the door. She wasn't in the best of moods.
"Hey, Santana," said Brittany, slightly breathless. "What's up?"
Pausing for a moment, Santana shrugged her shoulders from her position on the bed. "Nothing," she replied in a gruff voice.
Brittany frowned. "But you sent me a message that said 'SOS'. I asked my mom what it stood for and she said it meant that we had to save Seoul? I don't really know what you meant, but I figure if you want to go to Korea then it must have been important?"
A brief smile flitted across Santana's face. "Soul, Britt. Not…you know what? Forget it." Brittany nodded willingly. "I'm just bored."
"Well yeah," replied Brittany, her nose wrinkling in confusion. "You're not doing anything."
She bit back a surge of annoyance. "That's because there's nothing to do in this shit hole of a town," said Santana bitterly. She turned her head so she was looking out the window. Maybe calling Brittany over hadn't been such a great idea after all.
"You wanna see what I learnt on the computer today?" said Brittany after a few seconds of awkward silence.
With a sigh, Santana rolled over so she was facing Brittany again. "Go on then."
Brittany's face lit up with excitement and she grabbed Santana's new laptop from her desk with unnecessary force and threw herself down on the bed.
"Try not to break it," said Santana weakly as Brittany began to press down on random keys in order to speed up the loading up page.
"I won't," said Brittany with ill-deserved confidence. "My grandma taught me how to use it. Did you know you can play games and stuff on this thing? And there's this thing called MyFace or SpaceBook…I forget which…and it has pictures of all the people who go to our school on it."
"Wow," replied Santana dryly. The Windows screen finally loaded. "My password is…" But Brittany had already typed it out and pressed enter. Santana frowned. "How did you know what–"
"I'm your best friend, Santana," interrupted Brittany with a pout. "I know everything about you."
Something heavy settled in Santana's chest and she simply nodded as Brittany continued to tap away on the machine. It took a couple of minutes for her to figure out how to get the internet up and running, but eventually Brittany shot Santana a proud smile and turned the screen around to display the Wal-Mart online shopping page. Santana pursed her lips.
"Look, San. It's called like…internet shopping. You can buy everything you want without ever having to leave your house," said Brittany with excitement. Santana resisted the urge to roll her eyes and Brittany's complete lack of technological awareness.
"Right," she said unenthusiastically. "And your grandmother taught you this?"
"Yes," replied Brittany proudly.
"The one who thinks Elvis talks to her through the TV?"
With wide eyes, Brittany nodded. "He does. I heard him."
"Ugh," Santana groaned. "Virtual shopping for old people with no grip on reality. Sounds about right."
Brittany closed the lid of the laptop and placed in gently on the floor. "Do you not like it?" she asked; the sadness in her voice made Santana squirm with guilt.
"Of course I do. You know how I love shopping," replied Santana with a rather forced smile. "I just don't feel like it right now, okay?"
"Oh," said Brittany with a frown. The concept was probably a little foreign to her because Brittany always felt like shopping. It had been something of an issue for Santana who, up until recently, hadn't a dollar to her name for the most part. "What do you wanna do then?"
"How about we just watch a movie?" Santana suggested. She didn't really feel like talking.
"Can we watch The Aristocats?" asked Brittany hopefully.
Santana smiled and gave a short nod. "Whatever you want, Britt-Britt."
Half an hour later, the two girls were cuddled up on the couch watching as five cats trekked across what Santana guessed to be Paris. She'd never really understood this film before; who loved their cats so much that they decided to leave all of their worldly possessions to them in their will? She made a mental note to make sure that when the time came, Brittany did not decide to name Lord Tubbington as the sole benefactor of her worldly possessions. She wouldn't put it past the other girl so an intervention might be necessary.
"Santana?"
"Yeah?"
"Where's your mom and Doctor Lopez?" asked Brittany, a rather confused look on her face as though she'd only just realised they were alone in the house.
Santana shrugged dismissively. "They're in Aruba. Or Barbados. Or the Cayman Islands… Don't really remember. Somewhere in that area."
"Oh," said Brittany, her customary blank stare in place. "How long have they been gone?"
Santana shrugged again. "Couple of weeks I guess."
There was a strange flash of emotion across Brittany's face and Santana frowned. It was gone too quickly for her to place. "Oh," was all Brittany then said in reply. She shuffled even closer to Santana and linked their pinkies together.
When Brittany and Santana awoke in the morning, Santana apparently had no recollection of her nightmare the night before, for which Brittany was eternally grateful. They'd suffered through enough trials and tribulations over the past few weeks as it was. Besides, Santana was always super grumpy when she remembered her dreams and cheering her up was a lot more difficult when Brittany couldn't use sex as a primary remedy.
Oddly, Santana actually seemed rather cheerful. She was humming the music to Spongebob Squarepants under her breath as she poured milk over the bowl of Lucky Charms she was preparing for Callie anyway, which Brittany took as a sign of happiness.
"Here you go, sweetie," said Santana, kissing their daughter on the cheek as she passed her breakfast over.
Callie grabbed her spoon and began to stir the cereal with enthusiasm. Santana frowned at her in confusion but Brittany knew that Callie was just trying to make the milk sweet; it made perfect sense. The family remained silent for a couple of minutes as Santana went about making breakfast for herself and Brittany, but obviously in the Lopez household things didn't stay quiet for long.
"What are we doing today, Mommy?" asked Callie after shovelling a large quantity of Lucky Charms into her comparatively small mouth.
"Don't talk with your mouth full," Santana admonished without turning around from her position at the toaster.
"Sorry," replied Callie, her mouth still crammed with cereal. Brittany smiled at her and shook her head.
"I don't know," she said thoughtfully. "What do you want to do?"
"Park," replied Callie instantly.
"Like mother like daughter," Santana commented idly.
"We went to the park yesterday though," Brittany whined. "And the day before. And the day before that. And I think the day before that too…"
"But I like it," said Callie, jutting out her bottom lip pitifully.
"But–"
"Brittany Susan Pierce-Lopez," said Santana, spinning around with a wicked gleam in her eye and a plate of toast in her hand. "Please tell me you aren't about to say no to our only child? Our precious baby daughter who has done nothing but love you unconditionally."
Santana took the couple of short steps from the kitchen counter over to the table and set the plate down between Brittany and herself.
"But San–"
"Look at her," said Santana dramatically. "How can you say no to that face? All she wants to do is go and play on the swings."
Unwillingly, Brittany glanced over at Callie, who was not only using her own signature pout against her (Brittany now understood why Santana hated it so much) but her eyes, that were so inexplicably similar to Santana's, were comically wide as she gazed at Brittany pleadingly.
"Oh…okay then," Brittany relented.
"Thank you!" said Callie happily. She turned back to her food and began to attack it with extra enthusiasm.
"And that's what you get," Santana muttered under her breath.
Brittany's eyes widened. "What? Get for what?"
"Why are you so smiley?" asked Brittany, her own mouth twitching.
"No reason," said Santana nonchalantly. She stopped outside their lockers and began to unload books from her bag. "Well," she added with a shrug, "I just got ninety-five percent on my history exam. No big deal though."
Brittany's grin widened as Santana fought to keep the smug look from her own face. "That's awesome, Santana."
"I'm totally one of the smartest people in the school," said Santana with another shrug. And she so was.
"Well yeah," Brittany readily agreed. "The smartest."
Without responding this time, Santana finished shoving books into her locker and slammed it closed. No way was she studying tonight; she deserved a break. She did make sure, however, to keep one book with her so she could keep her test paper flat inside it. Apparently spending that whole weekend stuck in a Wikipedia loop hadn't been as big of a waste of time as she'd originally thought.
"Wanna hang out tonight?" asked Brittany as Santana swung her bag over her shoulder. "Lord Tubbington borrowed a copy of Tangled from his friend last night so we could watch it."
Santana thought about this for a moment. "Maybe later," she said finally. "My mom wants me home for dinner." Okay, so that wasn't entirely true. Her mom and Daniel (she refused to call him 'dad' no matter how many times he suggested it) were in fact home for dinner this evening, but they hadn't requested her presence at all. Santana chose to believe they would have done if they'd thought ahead though. Besides, she really wanted to show them how well she'd done on her exam; her step-father seemed to prize intelligence above all other qualities so maybe he'd be impressed.
"Okay," said Brittany, appearing oddly happy. "I'll call you later then?"
"Sure," replied Santana with a smile.
Really, Santana shouldn't have been at all surprised about the response she got from her parents. It had been one of those times where you imagine a whole scenario in your head but when it came down to it, everything was completely different to how you expected it to be down to the very last detail. Looking back on it, she didn't know why she'd expected any differently.
"Santana," her mother admonished immediately when Santana had causally slipped her test score into the conversation. "No talking shop at the dinner table. I get enough of it at work."
With a scowl, Santana looked down at her plate. "I don't want to talk about shops. I just thought you'd want to know that I'm doing better at school."
Doctor Lopez smiled a little. "When you get a hundred percent, we'll celebrate," he said with a wink. Santana genuinely wasn't sure if he was trying to belittle her achievement or whether he was trying to encourage her to do better. She pursed her lips and focused her attention on her food. Whatever. Screw them. Next time she just wasn't going to bother.
About fifteen minutes later, Doctor Lopez got called into work to perform some emergency surgery (or whatever it was; Santana wasn't really paying attention) and her mom decided to go with him for…well Santana wasn't quite sure why.
Brittany leaned back in her chair and regarded Santana carefully. She didn't want to spoil her wife's good mood but she felt like this was kind of important.
"Go on then," Santana prompted. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong," said Brittany immediately.
"Okay," replied Santana slowly. "Then why have you been staring at me all morning like you used to stare at your pay checks?"
Brittany felt her cheeks turn pink. "That's not fair. I bet loads of people are confused about why FICA was taking their money at first."
"Of course they are," said Santana condescendingly. Brittany huffed and folded her arms.
"You're so mean sometimes," said Brittany.
"And you're stalling," Santana replied, clearly unimpressed.
"What's stalling?" asked Callie mindlessly, poking at her now empty bowl. "Isn't that what you said last time you made the car break, Mama?"
"I…I didn't make the car break," said Santana, her face turning a little red. "It just stops sometimes. It was so not my fault."
"It doesn't stop when mommy drives…" Callie said, furrowing her brows in confusion. "Uncle Kurt says it's just 'cause you're a bad driver."
"I am not a bad driver!" Santana protested loudly, her preoccupation with Brittany's apparent staring seemingly forgotten. "You talked to Kurt about my driving? You little brat. No more ice cream for you!"
Callie giggled at the empty threat and Brittany raised a hand to cover her growing smile. "Can I learn to drive soon?" Callie inquired.
"Not yet, baby," Brittany cooed, leaning over and kissing the girl on the cheek affectionately. "Give it twenty or so years and we'll think about it."
"But that's ages away!" argued the girl, pouting her lips once more. "I want to learn now."
Brittany sighed and turned to Santana. "You know," she said, "I was never this argumentative. I think she gets this from you."
Santana let out a short noise of disbelief. "Oh really?" she said. "I guess it must have been me who sat inside the washing machine for a whole day because my mom wanted to wash my favourite teddy bear even though I didn't want her too then."
"That's how I remember it happening," said Brittany slowly. Santana cocked an eyebrow. "He didn't want to go in the washing machine, okay? He could have drowned, Santana!"
"What does this have to do with my driving lessons?" Callie interrupted.
"Maybe when you're thirty, sweetie," replied Santana, switching her attention back to the child.
"Thirty-five," Brittany corrected, a stab of worry plaguing her as the thought of her little girl driving a car flashed through her mind. She was definitely going to need to find out if Callie was going to somehow inherit Santana's road rage before letting her behind the wheel at the very least.
"That's not fair," Callie muttered mutinously.
"I know," said Santana with a shrug of her shoulders. "Your difficult life is just full of woes."
Callie scrunched up her face in confusion and looked to Brittany for help deciphering Santana's sentence. Brittany simply smiled. "Go get dressed, baby. Your mama has to go to work soon."
With a nod, Called jumped down from her seat and headed to the door.
"Make sure Christina is awake too," Santana called after her. "If she isn't you can jump on her bed!"
They waited until Callie's tiny footsteps had gone out of hearing distance before turning to face each other properly. Brittany looked down at the table, suddenly feeling a little nervous about what she wanted to say. She knew full well Santana wasn't going to react well to it and now that it came down to it, she wasn't sure if now was actually the best time to have this conversation. It would put Santana in a bad mood for the whole day and she didn't really want to make those poor Cheerios suffer anymore than they were going to under her wife's tyrannous reign already.
"You said it yourself, Britt," said Santana after a moment, "I'm heading out to work soon and I know there's something to want to tell me. Can it wait until later or are we gonna do this now?"
Pondering it for another moment, Brittany decided that giving Santana the day away from her to deliberate her options might actually be the way forward. It was a little selfish, perhaps, but if it saved her from the inevitable rant for a few hours then Brittany thought it was worth it.
Okay. Fast – like Speedy Gonzales.
"I think you should go and see your mom."
Santana blinked once. Then twice.
"I'm sorry. I think I must be hearing you wrong. I have the oddest feeling that you just told me to go and visit my homophobic and neglectful mother?" said Santana dryly.
Brittany frowned. Well, yeah. Isn't that what she'd just said? "I did," she confirmed, feeling a little confused.
"Okay," said Santana slowly. Brittany could tell she was trying her very best to keep the anger from her voice and face. "And why would I wanna do that?"
"You know why," replied Brittany.
"Because it would be a great way to piss off my step-father?" Santana hazarded a guess. "I gotta tell you, there are easier ways to do that without putting myself through a conversation with my mother. Assuming she'd actually speak to me."
Brittany sighed. "You've wanted to talk to her for years, Santana," she pointed out. "I know you called her when Callie was born."
Eyes widening, Santana sat up a little straighter in her chair. "How?"
"I wasn't as asleep as you thought I was," replied Brittany dismissively. "I heard you though and you can deny it to me and even yourself, but I know you miss her."
"That was six years ago," Santana objected. "I don't miss her."
"Okay, maybe not," Brittany agreed. "You want to see her again though. And I think you should."
There was a pause. "No," said Santana eventually. "I can't."
"Why are you so angry?" asked Brittany curiously. "It's your birthday."
"I'm not angry," Santana snapped in reply. She slammed her locker door and began the short walk to the lunch room with Brittany trailing after her like a wounded puppy dog.
"Are you sure?" said Brittany dubiously. She caught up to Santana easily and fell into step beside her. "That locker didn't do anything to you."
"I'm fine, Brittany," said Santana, taking vindictive delight in the way the other students seemed to notice her displeasure and were practically throwing themselves out of her way as she stalked onwards.
"Santana, you tried to punch the leprechaun girl in the face before because you didn't like the way she was holding her pen. That is not what fine people do," said Brittany.
"Rachel Berry?" asked Santana. Brittany nodded in confirmation. "Yeah well she deserved it for being so annoying."
"Yeah but Quinn's already slushied her once today. If my friends are too mean to her she won't give me the pot of gold she keeps at the end of her rainbow," said Brittany, a small pout appearing on her face. Santana shot her a baffled look.
"Brittany, the only rainbow following Rachel Berry around is the flag that her fairy queen parents fly high above their heads," said Santana with a roll of her eyes.
"Her parents are fairies?" said Brittany, suddenly excited.
"Not the good kind of fairy," replied Santana. They arrived at the door of the cafeteria and Santana held it open for Brittany to step through in front of her.
"I didn't know there was a bad kind of fairy," Brittany mumbled under her breath as the two girls walked over to the lunch ladies and procured their sticks of celery and other such delicious treats.
With their trays full…ish, Santana scanned the overcrowded cafeteria for somewhere to sit. She could obviously have any table she wanted; all she needed to do was shove a few kids on the floor and the world was her oyster. It was, however, her birthday today and she just couldn't be doing with that kind of drama if she could help it. Her eyes drifted to the far corner and she smirked as a blonde girl waved her hand in a regal gesturing motion. She nudged Brittany gently and began walking towards the mostly free table.
"Hey, Quinn," said Brittany softly as the two sat down in front of their friend. Quinn gave them a rather smug smile and Santana suspected she was still enjoying the after-effects of throwing a slushy at one Rachel Berry. Sure, Santana was a bitch and she'd do pretty much anything to get what she wanted, but she'd never taken any particular relish in bullying lesser mortals like Quinn seemed to. Of course that didn't mean she was going to stop doing it. If anything, Santana was doing people a favour by telling them how much they sucked. How else would they ever improve themselves?
"Girls," replied Quinn by way of greeting. Santana resisted the urge to roll her eyes; Quinn had such an unbelievable superiority complex. Everybody on God's green earth knew that Queen Quinn was next in line to be head cheerleader at McKinley High School, but she wasn't there yet. Not that you'd know it based on the way she strutted around the place like she owned it. It was one of the things that Santana couldn't help but admire about her. She could control a room with a simple raise of her eyebrow. Quinn was legend and everybody knew it.
As Brittany and Santana began to force down the deeply appetizing carrot sticks on their tray, Quinn began a lengthy and well thought out speech about her new ideas for the next Cheerios routine. Santana zoned out almost instantly and though Brittany was staring at Quinn with rapt attention, Santana knew she wasn't following the words at all. After what felt like an age, but was in reality only about four and a half minutes, Quinn trailed to a halt with a pleased look on her face. Santana guessed she must have finished explaining her plans and made a quick noise of agreement. Better to stay on Quinn's good side if she could help it. For now at least.
"So, Santana," said Quinn, fixing her somehow both warm and cold eyes on her. "What did your parents give you for your birthday?"
Santana pursed her lips. So Quinn had remembered it was her birthday then and had just elected not to mention it when they'd been sat in English together earlier. Well wasn't that just lovely.
"A car," said Santana shortly. Brittany's mouth dropped open and Quinn's eyes flashed with jealously. It would have been comical if Santana hadn't been so pissed off about the whole thing.
"You're not even old enough to drive though," Quinn pointed out, her voice sweet and sickly.
"You've never even had a lesson!" Brittany added with astonishment.
Santana shrugged. "I guess they forgot that minor little detail." Obviously the woman who gave birth to her couldn't be expected to remember trivial information such as how old Santana actually was.
Quinn let out a huff and looked down to inspect her nails. "I expect Daddy will buy me a car next year. When I'm old enough to actually use it." She looked pointedly at Santana who scowled. It wasn't like she'd asked for a freaking car. She'd personally have settled for her mom and step-dad to simply have been home today. Apparently promises made after missed Cheerios competitions meant very little in the Lopez household.
"Can I come and see it tonight?" asked Brittany with a grin.
"Sure," replied Santana. "I mean…we won't be able to get it off my driveway but you're welcome to come and gaze adoringly at my new set of wheels."
"Awesome."
Santana actively ignored the butterflies in her stomach at the sight of Brittany smiling at her with such delight. Maybe the rest of her day wouldn't be quite so awful after all.
Brittany stared at Santana until eventually the other woman looked away. "Can't or won't?" Brittany prompted.
"Won't," Santana bit back. "I won't. Do you know how many times I've called her just to be ignored?"
"Yeah," said Brittany simply.
"Well then why–"
"Stop getting angry with me," said Brittany sharply. Santana let out a long stream of air and Brittany could see her mentally trying to reel herself back in. "I think it would be good for you to just have a chat with your mom."
Santana licked her lips. "Brittany, she doesn't want to see me."
"You don't know that," she replied. Santana pulled a face of disagreement. "Maybe she wants to talk to you just as much as you want to talk to her and she's just too scared to like you are."
"I don't want to talk to her," said Santana stubbornly. "I won't go and you can't make me!"
That's when Brittany knew she had her. Santana always resorted to childish tantrums when she knew she wasn't going to get her own way. Or at least she used to; it had been happening less and less over the years. Brittany scooted her chair a little closer to her wife and wrapped an arm around her waist.
"I know you don't want to," she said quietly, "but at least you'd know."
"Know what?" replied Santana, resigned.
"You wouldn't have to wonder anymore if maybe one more phone call would make a difference. You can move on with your life with or without her because you'll know for sure that there is or isn't a chance of you two reconciling your differences," said Brittany, her head now resting on Santana's shoulder.
"I doubt she's going to have suddenly changed her mind about me over the last few years, Brittany," said Santana tonelessly. "Or us."
Brittany felt her shoulders slump. "You never know."
"Miss Lopez," said Figgins, his eyebrows shooting up and down, wild and untamed. "What do you have to say for yourself…hmm?"
Santana simply scowled and stared defiantly forwards. This was so not fair.
"Santana," her step-father prompted angrily. "Answer the question."
"Oh please," snapped Santana in reply. "Like you're going to care what I have to say. I'm going to get pinned for this no matter what happens."
"That isn't true, Miss Lopez!" Figgins protested, his voice becoming higher in pitch. "But you broke a boy's nose! We need to get to bottom of this."
"Whatever," said Santana folding her arms. Beside her she could see the vein in Dr Lopez's temple beginning to throb. He was getting angry with her. Oh her 'dad's' temple, as he was for some reason now insisting she call him. Like that was going to happen anytime soon. "He fucking deserved it."
"Santana!" said Lopez angrily, slamming his hands down on Figgins' desk. Santana flinched and turned to look him warily. He must have seen something in her eyes because he suddenly deflated and took a deep calming breath. "Just tell us what happened."
Santana shrugged while no small amount of fear coursed through her body. "He started it," she said meekly.
"It isn't just the fighting," Figgins chimed in. "Your grades have been slipping for months. Are you having problems at home?"
"No," Santana muttered.
"Don't be ridiculous," said her step-father with a roll of his eyes. "Santana has everything she could possibly want at home." At this, Figgins looked at her curiously, almost knowingly, and she dropped her gaze to the desk.
"Okay, well I'm still going to need to hear your version of events," Figgins prompted once more.
"Look," said Santana, false bravado shining through. "The guy was making suggestive comments in my direction and I didn't like it. We started arguing and he shoved me first. Is it my fault he fell and hit his face on a bench? No. It's not my fault he's borderline retarded."
"Several witnesses say that he didn't push you first at all, Miss Lopez," said Figgins pointedly.
Santana scoffed. "Oh yeah. And who were those witnesses? Neanderthal jocks sticking up for their team mate? I swear if those tools spend anymore time together they're all gonna start getting their periods on the same day."
"Miss Lopez," Figgins said once again, he was starting to get really annoyed now. Before he could continue what would have been an undoubtedly fascinating rant, the office door swung open and Santana turned her head to see Sue Sylvester stride through, a face of fury.
"And what is the meaning of detaining one of my Cheerios during practice?" she demanded. Figgins looked suddenly frightened and her step-father merely looked confused. Santana felt her heart soar in relief. If anybody could get her out of this, it was Sue.
"Santana Lopez has committed an act of violence against another stu–"
"It was self-defence," said Sue immediately. "I saw the girl push her."
"Boy," Santana corrected under her breath.
"Sue…" said Figgins warningly.
"You calling me a liar, Figgy?" asked Sue, hands on hips and eyebrows raised in outrage.
"Well no…"
"Glad we got that cleared up," said Sue dismissively. She turned to Santana. "Well? What are you waiting for, J Lo? Get up off your fat ass and get to practice."
Santana leapt to her feet and pulled Dr Lopez with her. He cast one final glance back at the two teachers before allowing Santana to drag him from the room and down the first hallway.
"Who," said her step-father in bewilderment, "was that?"
"Sue Sylvester," said Santana, urging the man to move faster. She didn't want to be caught slacking or Sue might rethink her stance on defending her. "She's the Cheerios coach."
Daniel nodded. "She's um…an impressive woman."
"You could say that," replied Santana in agreement. She might be absolutely bat-shit crazy, but Santana couldn't deny that Sylvester was a force to be reckoned with.
"Santana," said Dr Lopez seriously, still allowing himself to be ushered towards the exit, "Did he really push you first?"
Santana stilled and looked up into her step-fathers inquisitive face. She held his gaze and slowly nodded her head. "Yeah," she lied. "Of course he did."
Lopez nodded his head and looked her up and down. "We're going to talk about your grades when you get home."
"Okay," said Santana, feeling a strange sense of relief.
"If you really want me to, I'll go," said Santana finally. "But know I'm only going for you."
Brittany allowed herself a small, victorious smile and lifted her head to kiss Santana on the cheek. At the last second, Santana turned her head so their lips met.
"Come on, Britt," said Santana in a pseudo-mocking tone. "I'm going to see my mom for you and all you're gonna give me is a measly peck on the cheek? I deserve way more than that." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively, but Brittany could tell her heart wasn't quite in it.
"Maybe later," Brittany replied in her most placating of tones. "When do you want to go?"
"Never isn't an option, right?" Santana asked. Brittany raised an eyebrow. "Yeah…didn't think so. As soon as possible then, I guess. Get it over with. Besides, I think it's a full moon in a few days. It's when she usually transforms so she can spend her nights preying on the weak. I should avoid those days."
Brittany sighed. "I wish you wouldn't say things like that. For the longest time I thought your mom really was the Wicked Witch of the West…It took my dad months to convince me that she couldn't be because she isn't green."
"You obviously never saw her in one of her face masks," said Santana, rather cryptically.
"Santana…"
"I already agreed, Brittany," she said suddenly. "You don't have to keep trying to convince me."
Brittany nodded. "Okay." Santana made a quiet noise of displeasure. "Thank you."
"Yeah yeah. Whatever," said Santana dismissively. "But I want the good lovin' tonight."
Santana lay back in bed and stared furiously at her ceiling. Maybe if she glared hard enough she'd burn a hole in it and that would really piss off her step-dad. Assuming he was ever home to see it that was. Well what the fuck ever. She didn't need them. She didn't even want them. So then…why did she feel so awful?
Well, she guessed there was a legitimate reason for her to be feeling bad. She had just been bailed out of jail by her irate step-father. Except irate didn't quite cover the rage that seemed to have taken over the man's body as he'd yelled and screamed at Santana in the middle of the police station. It had been humiliating. And completely undeserved. Loads of teenagers stole stuff; it was practically a right of passage. She blinked back angry tears and pulled one of her pillows protectively against her chest.
She really hadn't thought the store would get the police involved. She thought they'd just call up her parents and make them pay for the stuff. It was only a few nail varnishes; what the hell was the big deal? She gave them back. There was no need for them to haul her down to the police station to 'make an example' of her or whatever the hell the shop dude had said. It just…really wasn't fair. Puck stole stuff without consequences all the time. She was pretty sure her father stole things all the time without consequences…the real one, that was. Not the pansy healer of the sick jackass downstairs who liked to pretend to be her father when the moment suited him.
She swallowed against another rise of tears and buried her face in her pillow. This was not how things were supposed to go. She was so fucking stupid. She should have known better.
The worst thing was that try as hard as she might, Santana couldn't scrub the look on her mom's face from her mind.
She wasn't angry. She wasn't annoyed. She didn't even seem disappointed.
She was just…resigned. Like she'd been expecting Santana to do something like this all along and if anything was just surprised it hadn't happened sooner. Next time you do something like this, don't expect us to come and bail you out. Next time. Like Santana hadn't learned her lesson. Like she was going to go out and mug somebody because it was in her blood or something. The words rattled around her brain and she pressed her hands against her ears. You're a waste of space; just like your father.
Before Santana could dwell too much on the implications of those last few words, there was sharp tapping noise at her window. She raised her head wearily and caught a glimpse of long, blonde hair bob into view before disappearing again. Unfortunately, Santana couldn't even find it in herself to smile when her friend finally reached the top of the tree outside her bedroom and easily slipped through the open window.
"Hey, Britts," she said with forced cheer, as Brittany straightened up and brushed imaginary dirt from her arms. Instead of returning the greeting, Brittany gazed at Santana impassively and folded her arms across her chest. Santana's smile faltered and she lay back down so she didn't have to look her friend in the eye. "You heard?"
"Everyone did," replied Brittany, her voice unlike Santana had ever heard it before. She sounded… aggravated. "Puck was in the store." Santana frowned; she hadn't seen him anywhere. "Yeah," said Brittany with a nod. "He came to tell me and Quinn what a hero you were for defying the law."
"Oh," said Santana unhappily. "And you–"
"What the hell were you thinking, Santana!" Brittany suddenly snapped.
"I just wanted some new nail–"
"It was irresponsible and…Santana, will you look at me when I'm talking to you!" said Brittany, stamping her foot petulantly.
Santana sighed and turned her head so she was facing her annoyed friend. She frowned. Brittany looked mad. But like…really mad. Her cheeks were flushed pink and she was positively seething with rage. "Brittany–"
"No!" Brittany interrupted, waving her arms wildly. "I don't wanna hear it."
Something stirred in Santana's chest and she clenched her hands at her sides and dropped her gaze.
"What were you thinking?" said Brittany. Santana saw her feet move closer but dared not look up just yet. She shrugged and fought against the stinging in her eyes. "Santana?" Brittany prompted, her voice lacking its usual warmth. "Talk to me."
Sniffing, Santana shook her head. "I just…" Her voice cracked. "I just wanted them to notice me more."
For a moment Brittany said nothing. "And you thought getting yourself caught stealing was the best way to do that?" she asked. "You were arrested!"
Santana squeezed her eyes shut, feeling both sick and utterly humiliated. "Nothing else fucking works," she muttered. She risked a fleeting look upwards but Brittany was staring blankly out the window.
"Santana," she said eventually.
"I just thought that maybe they'd be so mad at me that they'd want to do something about it. Rehabilitate me or something. I didn't think they'd decide to wash their hands of me completely…" Santana trailed off quietly and closed her eyes. "I wish they cared; even it was just a little bit."
Brittany let out a long and audible sigh and Santana felt a dip in her bed. Before she could question it, Brittany's arms wormed their way around her torso and pulled her close. "I'm still really mad at you," Brittany told her, but her voice was gentle and understanding. "But you've had a bad day, so…"
A tearful little laugh clawed its way free of Santana's throat and she nodded her head against Brittany's shoulder.
"Are you okay?" asked Brittany softly. Santana nodded her head again and made a little noise of affirmation. "Do you wanna talk about it?" Santana buried her face in the crook of Brittany's neck and breathed in the scent of Brittany's perfume. No. Really, really…not. "Okay." Santana could feel each rise and fall of her friend's chest. "You know you can talk to me though, right? If you want to."
Yeah, that was so never going to happen. Talking never helped anything. Santana raised her head to say just that, but before she could Brittany turned towards her and the words jammed in her throat and a strange tension began to grow. Their noses almost touching, Santana gazed up into Brittany's clear blue eyes and tried to ignore that feeling in her stomach that seemed to be appearing more and more when she was around her friend. Because that's what Brittany was. A friend. Any…peculiar urges Santana might be feeling were to be pushed aside.
"Are you okay?" Brittany asked again. Her voice was almost deathly quiet, as though she was worried something might break if she talked any louder.
Unable to respond, Santana inclined her head and Brittany smiled uncertainly. Whatever it was Santana was feeling, she was sure Brittany could feel it too. They stared at each other for an interminable amount of time, neither daring to look away.
Until Brittany raised a tentative hand and ran a single finger along Santana's jaw line. Santana swallowed nervously but didn't move as Brittany's hand wound its way around her neck and pulled her ever closer. She stopped when their lips were mere millimetres away from each other and for a moment nobody moved. They didn't even breathe.
Then something in the air snapped.
Santana pressed forward and their mouths met hesitantly. They kissed slowly and Santana couldn't help but admire the impossible softness of Brittany's lips as she leant further forward.
It wasn't the first time they'd done this. It was, however, the first time they'd done it completely sober and not surrounded by a sizeable group of leering guys. Any thoughts about how wrong it might be completely flew out of Santana's mind though as Brittany's tongue began pressing against the roof of her mouth. She groaned and felt Brittany smile against her lips.
After a few minutes, their need for oxygen outweighed their need for each other and they reluctantly pulled away. Before Santana could say anything, Brittany turned her whole body so they were facing each other. The tips of her ears had turned a dark shade of pink and Santana couldn't help the small, rather frightened smile that crossed her face because of it. It was almost enough to make her forget everything else that had happened that day.
Author's Note(s): Well. That was exhausting. I'm sorry for any mistakes, I haven't had time to read it all through properly and I'm going to a place with no internet (oh the horror) for a few days tomorrow and I wanted to get this up before I leave! Will edit next week if needs be.
Sorry again for the epically long wait. Love you all. Like…a lot.