A/N: Wow, you guys are so awesome :) I really appreciate the love for this story! Hope you enjoy the next installment :D
Onward and up!
-H
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee :(
CHAPTER 2: Evaluation of a brown eyed girl
Brittany took a deep breath as she submerged her body and swam the length of the pool underwater. Her lungs were protesting, but not burning when she reached the other side and she broke the surface, taking a slow breath.
She loved swimming in the mornings before school. Originally, her dance instructor during middle school had encouraged it to improve her breathing techniques and while it had done that, the blonde had found a kind of therapy in doing laps every morning. If she missed a session in the pool, her day felt off kilter.
"Boo, don't dwell!" her father called as he passed by the hall, his voice echoing off the walls. Yeah, so she had an indoor pool. Her parents were loaded. Her dad had invented an app like six years ago, right at the beginning of the whole smartphone craze and it had taken off. They weren't snobs, though, which Brittany was grateful for. Their instant wealth had allowed Brittany to achieve her dream of dancing.
"Morning, Britt!" Victoria Pierce called with a smile.
"Hi, Mom!" Brittany called back. Sometimes she wished her house wasn't so big. It felt like they were always shouting to each other.
She ignored the stairs and pushed herself out of the pool, grabbing the towel she'd left hanging over the recliner.
"Damn, Pierce, you can come and clean my pool any day."
Brittany rolled her eyes and didn't bother covering up her body. Unfortunately, he'd seen her in less.
"Honestly, Puck, do you have any original lines? Or, oh, anything nice to say?"
Noah Puckerman snorted and leaned against the glass doors that separated the pool house from the long hallway.
"Just appreciating what the good Lord blessed you with, Britt," he chuckled.
Brittany physically shuddered at the eerie feeling of Puck devouring the naked expanse of her body. She didn't even have to look at him to know that he was raping her with his eyes.
Ugh, out of everything in my life, I regret that one night I drank those fifteen tequilas.
She'd definitely lost her judgement that night. Not only did she sleep with Puck, she slept with Puck and Quinn. At the same time. Bad things happen with tequila. Brittany hadn't had a drop of the golden liquid since.
"Why are you here?" Brittany eventually snapped. She wasn't in the mood for his crass games.
Puck shrugged. "My dad was out early so I figured I'd come and see my favourite dancing girl."
"God, it astounds me how your girlfriend actually stays with you."
She jogged up at the stairs to her bedroom and immediately turned on her stereo, the pumping bass slowly working through her tired muscles from her morning swim. It was a good kind of exhausting, though. Brittany liked feeling as though she'd really worked out. She let her body automatically move to the fast beat as she pulled off her bikini and started the shower in her large en suite. Her bedroom was a sanctuary to her. Other than the dance studio at school, it was her favourite place. It was large, her bed against the one wall with her closet next to it. Her dressing table was in her bathroom, leaving a huge open area for Brittany to do what she loved. A few mirrors hung from the wall opposite her bed, giving her different views of herself when she danced.
Her body constantly needed to move. Idleness was not something she was used to. She also knew that her showcase was going to have to incorporate something that showed an ability to control that energy. Her little performance at the beginning of the semester had been a little taste of what she planned to seriously work on that year. Most of her life had revolved around hip hop and modern because she just loved how she could manipulate her body to the different beats. She'd branched out into contemporary and a few classical types when she'd started at McKinley, due to her History of Dance class. She'd become a little obsessed with how people had expressed themselves through dance throughout history.
Her senior year was about control and about expanding her repertoire. If any dance school or show was going to take her seriously, she needed to be versatile. She needed to showcase her ability to change from one genre to the next in the blink of an eye. She'd been happy with her choreography for her assembly performance, but she knew she had a lot of work to do before the winter showcase, and even more work before her final showcase.
Mike, her dance teacher, was excited to see her branch out because he believed that she was a dancer who could really make it. As Brittany dried her hair, she thought once more about where she'd like to go after McKinley. Obviously the dream would be Juilliard. That was the crème de la crème. She'd had a small part on Broadway over the summer and it had been exhilarating. So the stage was definitely an option.
But then there was LA. The potential to be on TV shows or in movies or in music videos. The chances to grow were a lot more lucrative in LA than in New York.
Brittany suddenly huffed. "Get through the first month eval and the we'll talk post-graduation," she muttered to her reflection, her voice completely drowned out by the sound of her hairdryer. She closed her eyes and started humming incoherently, feeling the heat running through her hair.
It didn't take long for her incoherent humming to alter to the soft melody played at that first assembly. Brittany smiled as she remembered how Santana's music had affected her. She'd been dancing for a big part of her life and music had always affected her. But nothing had enveloped her soul quite like Santana Lopez. Well, Santana Lopez and her music.
Brittany opened her eyes and caught the slight blush to her cheeks. She wasn't naïve enough to simply blame it on the hairdryer.
"Hey, slut."
"Whadup, bitch."
Brittany grinned at Quinn Fabray, who smirked and slapped her ass as she walked passed.
"Have a good weekend?" Brittany asked.
"Average," Quinn replied with a groan. "Everyone's being all student-y and shit."
Brittany giggled. "Fourth week, Q. First evaluations are coming up."
"Whatevs," she brushed off.
"Hey, just because you are going to ace your senior year, take pity on the rest of our poor souls."
"As if you're going to be anything short of brilliant, Britt," Quinn replied, rolling her eyes.
"Ladies," Kurt Hummel greeted as he breezed past.
"Lady," Brittany and Quinn responded.
"It feels like we've been here longer than a month, doesn't it?" Brittany mused as she and Quinn made their way to the first of their academic classes.
McKinley made sure that the students got a well rounded education. Morning classes consisted of the standard academic classes that they would take if they attended a normal high school. After lunch, the students broke off into their respective majors. The first hour after lunch dealt with theory components linked to whatever their major was. Brittany studied Kineseology, History of Dance and did a choreography class with her instructor, Mike. The rest of the afternoon was spent practising and honing their craft. This was Brittany's favourite part of the day. For four hours (at least), she would dance to anything and everything unless Mike wanted her to work on something specific.
Quinn was a double major. Singing and dancing. She was one of the overachievers who didn't even have to try hard to excel. She was naturally clever and had an amazing presence on stage, whether she was moving her body in a choreographed routine or owning the mic like a superstar.
"I sometimes find it hard to believe that we're seniors," Quinn replied as they headed to Science.
"We're all growed up, Q."
Quinn smirked. "Speak for yourself, Britt. I ain't ready to be a big girl just yet."
"Hey, babe," a deep voice greeted as they entered the lab in the north wing of the school.
"Not your babe, Puckerman," Quinn said breezily, walking past him. "Haven't been since sophomore year, thank fuck."
Brittany grinned and sent her neighbour a pointed look. No matter how many times she and Quinn shot him down, he kept persevering. It was like he was under the delusion that hard work would pay off. Almost two years later, Brittany was astounded that he hadn't taken the very obvious hint. Plus, he had a girlfriend. Britt and Quinn were a trouble as a pair, but they never got involved with couples.
Brittany watched as Puck rolled his eyes and walked in after Quinn, his eyes fixated on her ass and she shook her head. She glanced down the hall and a smile flew onto her face at the sight of the most beautiful girl worming her way through the early morning crowd. She had a pair of earphones in and a faraway look on her face. Brittany could only imagine the wondrous music that her mind was creating and she found herself staring at Santana until she disappeared into a classroom a few doors down.
"What's up with you?" Quinn asked with an arched eyebrow as Brittany sat down next to her a few moments later.
Brittany sighed dramatically. "Honest answer, Q. Do you believe in love at first sight?"
"I do," Puck chimed in, swivelling in his chair and grinning.
"Fuck off, Puck," Brittany snapped, glaring at him.
He actually looked hurt, but turned back to the front of the classroom. Quinn's eyebrow was still raised.
"Is this rhetorical?" she asked.
Is it?
Brittany shrugged. "I'm not sure yet."
Used to her cryptic answers, Quinn sighed and glanced around the room. "It's no one in here, right?"
Brittany shook her head vigorously.
"Oh, thank God. I would've been forced to shake the 'what the fuck' out of you. So, give me a hint."
"She's a junior," Brittany evasively.
"Oh my God, seriously?" Quinn said, her eyes flashing with mischief. "Santana Lopez?"
Brittany flushed and found some very intricate patterns on their table to focus on.
"That chick is so fine," Puck commented, turning around again. "I bet I could make her scream."
The next five seconds were a blur, but it ended with Puck on the floor and Brittany punching any part of him she could find.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" she yelled.
She eventually found herself being pulled off him. It took two guys to restrain her – hey, she was a dancer. She was crazy strong. Quinn was looking at her with mild amusement.
"In answer to your question, even if I didn't believe in it, it's clear that you're crazy about her."
"Brittany, I have to say that I was sure I'd been informed incorrectly," Will Schuester said with a frown on his face. "I thought there's no way they could talking about Brittany Pierce. What were you thinking?"
"I was thinking that he's an asshole," Brittany snapped, glaring at Puck, who looked quite comfortable in the other chair. "He gets away with degrading women all the time and I got sick of it."
Will opened his mouth, but Brittany was on a roll.
"Why is there a double standard? Boys can say and do who and what they want and no one bats an eyelid because they're boys. But if a girl sleeps with two or three guys, she's labelled a slut and heaven forbid that she should find the company of girls infinitely more appealing than the boys we're forced to co-exist with." Her last comment was not-so-subtly aimed at Puck, who looked unfazed.
"Well, Brittany, you know that we have a zero tolerance policy on bullying, especially homophobia-"
"He's just an ass," Brittany mumbled, folding her arms across her chest.
"Noah, this isn't the first time I've heard you in the ladies' bad books for your behaviour," Will said.
Brittany's jaw dropped. The ladies' bad books? Seriously? Is he stuck in the frigging twelfth century?
"Perhaps you should consider what you say before you open your mouth," Will continued, looking irritatingly contemplative. Brittany had the urge to smack him.
"Sure thing, Will," Puck said with practised ease. Brittany shuddered at the insincere charm oozing out of him. "You're absolutely right. I let my mouth run away with me and I don't twice about hurting people's feelings. I promise I'll do better."
"Excellent," Will said with a big smile. "See? Everything can be solved with a little compassion."
"Watch my foot compassion his face," Brittany muttered under her breath as she stood up and stalked out of the office.
"Like taking candy from a baby," Puck sang as he bumped her hip with his.
Brittany felt her anger spike again. She put a hand on his chest and pushed him into the row of lockers next to them. "You are scum, Puckerman. Your mom may have her legs spread wide for Stepdaddy Warbucks, but that does not give you the right to laud some apparent sexual prowess over everyone. No one cares. The girls here will believe me and Quinn before they listen to you and, let's face it, you didn't rock either of our worlds. I'm pretty sure we rocked each other's world ten times harder. So, Pucky boy, give up the macho show. You're fooling no one."
She patted his cheek and spun away, feeling surprisingly happy with herself. The bell rang shortly (Will didn't like long, loud bells) and the halls filled quickly.
"Spill," Quinn said, appearing at her side out of the throngs. She linked her arm and handed Brittany her books.
"I totally channelled you," Brittany chuckled. "It was so weird. I went off at Will and I told Puck that we had more fun with each other that night than with him."
Quinn threw her head back and laughed. "Man, I wish I could've been there for that."
"Pretty sure if you walk past the office around lunch, he'll still be picking up the pieces of his fragile ego," Brittany quipped, slipping Quinn's hand into her own and spinning herself into a perfect triple turn. "I can see why you enjoy the whole bitch thing. It's quite...invigorating."
"We could invigorate later if you'd like," Quinn said in a low voice, wiggling her eyebrows.
Brittany rolled her eyes. "Q, I know I'll rock your world, but I got over my thing for blondes last year." She shrugged, but sent her best friend a wink.
Quinn feigned devastation. "My one true love! Dear Barbra, say it isn't so!"
Brittany laughed loudly. "You are such a dork."
"But you love me," Quinn said, devastation gone in an instant.
"I do, Q. I love you like a frigging Tony."
"Who's Tony?" a nauseatingly nasal voice asked loudly as Brittany and Quinn headed into their Advanced Math class.
"The award, dumbass," Quinn said, rolling her eyes.
"Be nice, Q," Brittany berated. "What's up, Sugar?"
"The economy. Well, more like my allowance. Which means party at my house this Saturday. Bring your friends, but only the cool ones. I don't have losers at my party."
"Sure thing. Sounds like fun!"
Sugar grinned and continued into the next classroom.
"Why do you encourage her?" Quinn mumbled, flopping down into her chair.
"Because she's sweet."
"Thus so aptly named. Is she one of your non-blondes?"
Brittany grinned. "I'm not that suicidal. Clingy Sugar. No thank you."
"Sugar. No thank you," Quinn countered.
"She's not that bad."
"Britt, she's talentless. Utterly hopeless. Useless. A waste of space. A hu-"
"I got it, Q. Chill out."
Quinn shrugged. "Whatevs. She's only here cos her daddy can buy half of Ohio. At least her parties rock. Can I stay over at yours on Saturday?"
"Sure."
"Looking to roam?"
Brittany shrugged. "Probably not. I mean, this year's tough. With the winter showcase like two months away, I can't really afford any distractions..." Her voice trailed off as she happened to look up and see Santana step into the room, look around in confusion, glance at the number on the door, roll her eyes and shake her head. She exited the room as quickly as she'd entered it.
"Holy crap," Quinn laughed. "You are so screwed."
Brittany sighed, leaning her face on her hands. "Tell me about it."
Brittany winced slightly as she stretched out after her gruelling one hour hip hop dance class with Mike. He let her instruct sometimes, which was totally boss. Britt loved it because it felt like she was imparting some of her knowledge and enabling fellow dancers to achieve what she had been fortunate enough to. She had just finished working through an intense routine that her mentor had set out for her. He enjoyed giving her challenges every now and then, like learning a five minute routine in four hours.
She groaned as her quad protested at the strain.
"You can't be out of shape," Mike said in disbelief.
Brittany rolled her eyes in response. "Just think I overextended on the second jump."
"You ok?"
She nodded and Mike continued about his business.
Most of the students considered Mike Chang cold and aloof. Brittany thought that he was simply focused. He got the results from his dancers that he did because he pushed them and wasn't afraid to tell them that he was disappointed in them or that they needed to spend less time drinking rum and more time working on their posture (Quinn hadn't been very charmed about that comment).
The two of them had an understanding. Mike taught her everything he knew to ensure that she would be the best dancer she could be at McKinley and Brittany, in turn, dedicated countless hours to perfecting every aspect of her craft. She was indebted to him. The man used to be a principal dancer for ABA for six years. That was before he found his hidden passion for hip hop and proceeded to tour with Chris Brown until Will Schuester snapped him up. Brittany felt privileged to work with someone of his experience.
"You ready for your evaluation?" Mike asked.
Brittany nodded and the mention brought something else to the forefront of her mind that she had been mulling over. "Mike, could I talk to you about my winter showcase?"
He nodded and leaned against the mirror as she finished up her stretching. "What are you thinking?"
"Well, the piece that I did at the assembly in the first week," she began, "I was thinking that maybe I want to pursue that a little more." She glanced up at him and he was just looking at her with an unreadable expression. She sat up straight and powered on. "I haven't really done much ballet since middle school and even then it was very basic. I have the opportunity to learn from one of the best ballet dancers in the country and I really want that to be my focus for the winter showcase and maybe even for the final showcase."
She bit her lip and searched his face for any kind of reaction.
"Sounds good," he said finally. "Work up a rough idea and we'll discuss it next week after evaluations."
Brittany grinned widely and did a fist pump when Mike disappeared into his office. This was her chance to really embrace the challenge of being a well-rounded dancer, someone who was pretty efficient in all forms. Now that she had Mike's permission, ideas starting flying through her head.
Surprisingly (or unsurprisingly), Brittany's mind went immediately to Santana when she thought about music. She was absolutely certain that she wanted a repeat of what had happened at the assembly. She wanted that feeling, that connection, not only with the music, but with the person playing the music. She wanted her body to be free to move. And if she were being honest, Brittany had never felt more free than for those three minutes dancing on stage with Santana playing. Not in her entire life.
She grabbed her bag and skipped out of the studio, colliding with someone as she entered the hallway.
"Holy shit! I'm so sorry!" Brittany exclaimed, gathering her balance and leaning down to help the unfortunate recipient of her overzealous clumsiness. "I'm such a..." Her voice trailed off as the most unbelievable brown eyes found hers, "...klutz."
Santana smiled and just shook her head, grabbing loose sheets of music that had fallen onto the floor. Brittany quickly snapped out of her daze and hurried to assist the most intriguing person she had ever met. She held the pile of sheet music to Santana and couldn't hide the grin when their fingers brushed each other in the exchange.
"Um, how are you?" Brittany finally asked.
Was this normal? How do you talk to a mute girl?
Santana just nodded with a smile and pointed to Brittany.
Oh, she must be asking how I am.
"I'm, uh, good, thanks," she replied. "I was actually wondering if I could ask you something?"
Santana looked at her curiously. Brittany took it as an invitation to continue.
"So, I don't know if you've heard about the winter showcase yet-" Santana nodded, "-but I'm, uh, I mean, this is my senior year and I'm expected to make an impact and I was hoping that you might be my pianist?"
Santana blinked in surprise. Brittany grimaced to herself. She'd just started rambling, sounding like an utter idiot. Her crush was going to think she was a total loser. Well, she kinda was when it came to Santana Lopez. Common sense went out the door. As well as self-control. And the ability to form normal sentences.
They just looked at each other for a while (Brittany didn't really know how long it was) until Santana eventually dropped her eyes and rummaged around in her bag. She eventually produced a phone and handed it to Brittany. The blonde smiled and took it, quickly programming her number in and adding a heart next to her name as an afterthought. A little flirting never hurt anyone, right?
"So, you'll call me?" Brittany asked. She immediately clamped a hand over her mouth. "Text! I mean text!"
Santana chuckled voicelessly. It was strange to watch her shoulders shake but hear no sound come out of her mouth.
Can mute people laugh?
Brittany decided that she had some serious research to do when she got home. She watched Santana type on her phone and felt her pocket vibrate a few seconds later. With a smile at the petit girl, she pulled out her phone and read the new message she'd received.
You don't need to be flustered around me. I prefer it when people don't make my disability as obvious as it is at a performing arts school. A slip of the tongue is natural. I won't shun you for it. And now you have my number :)
"You type really fast," Brittany murmured, slipping her phone back into her pocket.
Santana grinned and turned to walk down the corridor.
"Enjoy the rest of your afternoon, Santana!" Brittany called after her, her hands gripping the straps of her backpack tightly.
She turned around and wiggled her fingers in a goodbye wave. Brittany practically melted on the spot.
"You are in such trouble, Pierce," she muttered to herself once she was sure Santana was out of earshot.
Brittany's head was full of questions as she did her laps the following morning. She'd stayed up past midnight, completely engrossed in her research on mutism. Depending the reason for Santana's silence, she could very well laugh or even whisper. Something told Brittany that she shouldn't push the subject, though. She had waited (with much restraint) to respond to Santana's text until she'd gotten home.
Saved in my favourites ;) See you at school.
Not too pushy, right? She wasn't even sure if Santana was even gay. Or if she had sweet lady tendencies. Brittany had still gotten a vibe from her and she was just gently probing what that vibe could mean. If Santana shot her down, then she would simply have to admire her from afar. Or maybe not so far. Like a few metres. That wasn't too creepy, right?
She broke the surface after her 200m sprint and took slow, deep breaths. She lay her arms on the edge of the pool and rested her chin on the wet skin of her forearms.
It would suck if Santana rejected her. Not rejected her advances, but even shut out her attempts at friendship. She frowned. Had she presumed too much? Just because everyone (maybe with th exception of Puck) at McKinley liked Brittany didn't automatically mean that Santana would. She was different. Very different.
If Santana didn't want to be even her friend, Brittany felt like she might die. It sounded crazy, she knew, but she felt in her soul that Santana was meant to be in her life, in whatever capacity.
Brittany set her jaw and pushed away from the wall, determinedly cutting through the water. Even if it took all year, Santana Lopez would become her friend.
It hadn't actually been as difficult to 'accidentally' find ways to run into Santana (bearing in mind that their different majors kept them in opposite wings of the school) as she'd expected. After dance, Brittany found herself 'accidentally' wandering down the main corridor of the music wing.
Totally here to see Quinn.
The fact that she'd gone home about an hour ago didn't matter.
She paused when she heard a beautiful melody being played. It echoed down the empty corridor and it made Brittany smile. It was almost calling to her. Only one person's music could do that.
Brittany eventually found the room that the music was flowing out of. She leaned against the wall next to the door, just listening for a few minutes. It was a well hidden room, actually. She hadn't even known it was there. The door was concealed by the stairs leading to the second floor. There was a janitor's closet right next to it so most people probably assumed that the door was a random extra.
It was almost fitting that Santana would find such a secret room to hone her craft. Similarly, Brittany commandeered the smallest dance studio at the far end of the dance wing. Mike mostly left her to her own devices unless she specifically requested his presence or he was actively teaching her something. Eighty percent of the time was spent keeping herself company. Brittany loved the solitude, though.
She continued listening for a while, just letting the soft melodies wash over her. She closed her eyes and took a quiet breath, allowing the music to warp her imagination. She saw rolling green hills, fields of flowers, blue sky for miles and a gorgeous lake that was as still as a mirror.
Yeah, so what if it was cliché?
In her mind, Brittany watched herself put together flowing movements, marking the beginnings of a routine. She smiled as the steps just followed effortlessly in her head. It was like Santana's music unlocked parts of her creative brain that she hadn't even known were there.
Brittany was tempted to lean towards the word muse…
Would it be too soon to say something like that? Hell, it was definitely too soon for Brittany to be so drawn to a girl that she'd only seen maybe a handful of times since their impulsive collaboration during the assembly that first week of school. Almost four weeks later and Brittany felt like her need to know Santana had simply grown.
The music suddenly stopped and Brittany froze, her senses on high alert for any alarming movement. She was pretty sure that her skulking outside Santana's secret room wouldn't be considered friend-like behaviour. There was a rustle of paper and Brittany could have sworn that she heard a loud exhalation of breath.
That doesn't mean a thing – remember that breathing out is just air. It doesn't require any use of the vocal chords or larynx.
Brittany grinned. She was totally proud of herself for remembering that kind of stuff. And she felt like it brought her closer to Santana. Not necessarily in an immediate best friend kind of way, but more like an understanding Santana kind of way. Brittany didn't deny that the Latina fascinated her – not only because of her incredible musical ability and the profound effect that it had on her, but also because…well, those eyes. They captivated her. It was like they held her and wouldn't let her go. And strangely, it didn't freak Britt out in the least. She welcomed the control. Of course, Santana probably had no idea the effect she had on Brittany, and the blonde found that endearing. Her naivety and innocence was just as attractive as the mystery surrounding her.
A slower, sadder melody started playing and Brittany felt her heart start aching. How was it that anything that this girl played had an immediate and severe effect on her? She'd listened to so much music before and sure, it had affected her, but as soon as she was done dancing, or she was done using it for whatever purpose, it left her and she didn't really dwell on it. Santana's piece of music from the assembly played in Brittany's head at least once a day. Quinn had called her on humming it several times, jumping at the chance to tease her mercilessly.
Brittany found her feet moving of their own accord, taking her through the open door and into the room where she watched with wide eyes as Santana's nimble fingers flew over the keys. She was so focused on her music that she didn't even see Brittany in the room. The blonde dropped her bag quietly by the door and utilised the open space in the room – it was deceptively big – to freely allow Santana's music to manipulate her body. A brief slip of the notes alerted Brittany to the fact that Santana had seen her. Her body refused to stop, though, and thankfully the music didn't either.
She lost track of time. She could have been dancing for ten minutes, an hour, three hours or just a minute. She was just overwhelmed with feeling and the incredible sense of freedom. It was a very complex thing for Brittany to understand and no way was her brain allowing her to even attempt an analysis whilst she was dancing. The movements came to her easily and in the back of her mind she was mapping them.
Eventually Santana's music came to a gradual end. Brittany slowed her body and took a few deep breaths. She was exhausted. Her shirt was sticking to her from sweat.
Joy. How attractive I must look now.
She chanced a look at the younger girl and saw her looking back with those big brown eyes full of curiosity and intrigue. This time it was Brittany who broke their gaze, letting a small smile cross her lips and nodded in appreciation. She turned slowly and picked up her bag from the doorway. She paused and glanced over her shoulder, sending Santana a quick wave before exiting the room.
The breath left her chest in a loud whoosh. She fumbled with her phone and saw that she'd been in there dancing for about half an hour. She'd have to bribe her mom for a massage that night, after a good swim and long, hot bath.
The routine came back to the forefront of her mind and she frowned in confusion. She'd never been able to come up with something so quickly before. Especially considering that she had no real training in ballet and had only mimicked what she'd seen on stage and online.
Suddenly, she was eager to show Mike what she'd come up with, but she knew that he wouldn't hear it. The next day and Friday were all about evaluations and all the teachers would be knee deep in assessments. Brittany's was only on Friday and she was doing a standard hip-hop routine. But now she was re-evaluating that. Two days…was that enough time to rework her five minute evaluation? If she did change it and fucked it up, Mike would be far from pleased. Neither would Will.
She pulled out her phone and dialled the first number on her recent calls list.
"I need you to meet me at the Bean. I'm in dire need of advice."
Brittany finished explaining her dancing dilemma and Rachel Berry sat back, sipping her mocha slowly. The blonde looked at her desperately. She hated uncertainty. She hated not knowing what to do. She always knew what to do. She was always the best. Teachers expected flawless routines from her and she always delivered.
"Rachel, I'm freaking out here. Say something. Anything. Please!"
"Realistically, Brittany, do you see yourself choreographing something new and perfecting it to your usual standard in two days?"
Brittany considered carefully. "I already know the choreography. It would simply be a case of verbatim until it sticks. And then there's the music."
"Oh, let Finn take care of that," Rachel said with a wave of her hand. "You know he's a whiz with meshing stuff together."
"Yeah?" Brittany asked hopefully. "Should I call him now?"
Rachel shook her head. "He's working till late tonight. Find him first thing tomorrow. In the meantime, get your two tracks and get your choreography down pat so that you can give him an idea of how you need the tracks mixed."
Brittany breathed a sigh of relief. "Rachel, I can't thank you enough."
"Hey, what are older sisters for?" she teased.
"Yeah." Brittany grinned. "It's so weird with you out of the house. What's it like living with Finn?"
Rachel pulled her lips to one side. "Interesting," she finally said. "He's so…messy. I can't seem to get him to understand the simple things. Even something as basic as putting the toilet seat down. Or picking up his laundry from the bathroom floor. Or rinsing his dishes after he's done eating. Or…"
Brittany tuned her sister out and wondered why she was staying with him when she was so obviously still in love with Quinn.
Rachel was Brittany's adoptive sister and older by one year. Brittany and Rachel's moms were best friends all through school and roommates in college. When Rachel's parents were killed in a horrific car accident when she was seven, Brittany's mom had become her guardian as per her mother's last will and testament. Rachel was a singer and had graduated from McKinley the previous year. She had been all set to go to New York halfway through her senior year when her on-again, off-again boyfriend since sophomore year suddenly proposed.
To everyone's surprise, Rachel had said yes. Brittany was pretty sure that even Finn was surprised. Most people thought that the proposal was a desperate man's way to hold onto his girl. Brittany agreed. It was no secret that Rachel and Quinn had…relations with each other on a regular basis. When she and Finn were off, she and Quinn were very much on. It wasn't the healthiest of situations, but Brittany knew better than to get involved. Her sister and her best friend? There was no taking sides because someone was bound to get hurt. Unfortunately, that someone was Quinn.
Over the summer, she'd hung out with a random group of girls called Skanks. She'd streaked her hair pink and blue, gotten a stupid ass tramp stamp and thrown out her wardrobe in favour of short skirts and ripped shirts. Brittany had just embraced the new Quinn and their friendship remained intact. They never spoke of Rachel though and Quinn was never mentioned when she was with her sister.
It made no sense to Brittany. Rachel loved Quinn. Quinn loved Rachel. Why bother with all the drama? It wasn't like either sets of parents had a problem with any of the girls' fluid sexuality. Quinn definitely leaned more towards girls than Brittany, and Rachel had only really been with Quinn, but had kissed a few girls in her early teens.
"Britt?"
"Hmmm?"
Rachel chuckled. "Where did you disappear to?"
"Sorry. Just…thinking."
Rachel's eyes flickered with realisation, but it was gone in an instant. "So are you decided? You're changing your evaluation."
She nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah. This is my senior year. I have to take every opportunity to push myself in directions I've never gone before. I need to grow as a dancer. I need that edge above everyone else."
"You already are the best, Britt."
"At McKinley, maybe. But I'm going to New York and I'll be a very small fish in a very big pond."
Rachel nodded and looked her little sister fondly. "You've grown up a lot this year already, Britt. And I've never seen you this passionate about making a statement before. Is there particular reason?"
Yes. She has long black hair and gorgeous lips and eyes I could look into forever and she has talent coming out of every orifice with enough spare change for everyone at Juilliard.
And I am completely enamoured with her.
"I don't think I could pinpoint it on something specific," Brittany said vaguely. "I made a deal that I was going to push myself this year and try things that I hadn't before. Ballet is one, the major one. I also want to explore interpretative dance more than what I did last year. I want to mix styles. I want to create styles. I want to grow as a person and as a dancer. And I think that this is a good start."
"Well, whatever it is, keep doing it because if you maintain this passion through to the final showcase, Juilliard will be begging for you."
Brittany grinned. That would be a dream come true.
She spent the next two days working solidly on her evaluation. She forewent her morning swim for practice and stayed until the sun was setting at the studio, getting the music right with her choreography. Finn was really helpful and Brittany had to artfully steer Quinn away from the studio whilst he was there helping her. Even though it was purely professional, Quinn would definitely not see her collaboration with Finn in that light.
Quinn and Finn. Brittany had mumbled to her best friend that Rachel probably chose him because his name sounds similar to hers and it was easier to disguise saying her name in bed instead of her fiance's. Quinn hadn't been impressed and Brittany had lost a ride home. She hadn't complained. A junior had kept her company the rest of the night. Or was it two juniors…?
Focus, Brittany.
Friday morning had her more nervous than she'd been for a performance in a very long time. Naturally, the seniors were all last and of course she'd been scheduled to close out the evaluations. The teachers were probably all expecting an easy grade. Brittany really hoped that she wouldn't disappoint them, especially Mike.
"Hey."
Brittany just looked at her best friend with wild eyes.
"Whoa, hey, Britt. Calm down! You're gonna have a hernia and I don't think even you could hide that with your sickest pops and locks."
The smirk on Quinn's face calmed her racing heart and she smiled gratefully. "I don't know why I'm so nervous about this. I've done hundreds of performances."
"Yeah, but you're stepping outside your comfort zone. And you're doing something so different. Mashing hip hop and ballet? Come on, no one does at a performing arts school. That's like fucking professional shit, Britty. You're gonna knock this one outta the park."
Brittany felt her rapid breathing relax completely. "Wow. Quinn, you're amazing."
"This is true. You should prove how amazing I am with any sexual favour I request from now until graduation."
Brittany grinned. "I would, but I don't think it would compare."
"To what?"
"Last year," Brittany replied, wiggling her eyebrows and laughing. "I wouldn't want to tarnish our goodbye."
Quinn rolled her eyes. "You're so damn sentimental." But she smiled and pulled her in for a hug. "Love you, B."
"Love you, Q." She pulled back. "Something we do have to look forward to is getting completely wasted at Sugar's party tomorrow."
Quinn snapped her fingers. "See, this is why you're the brains and I'm the beauty."
"Ha! Keep talking, Fabray. My bedpost has several more notches than you."
They often joked like this, but their conquests weren't something they kept score of or even spoke about, really. They weren't like guys and they hated that guys did that. They went with the flow. If a good time was on offer, a good time was had.
"Good luck, Brittany," another senior said as she ran into the wings. "Knock 'em dead."
"Not literally, though," Quinn stage-whispered, patting her best friend smartly on the ass before she stepped onto the stage.
The Rose Adagio from Sleeping Beauty flowed through the speakers and Brittany launched into her routine. At McKinley you didn't wait for an introduction. They had too many students to see and not enough time to do it in. They literally followed each other with no break in between.
The first thirty seconds of her song was pure flowing movement. She obviously didn't have the correct attire because she immediately locked her hips and straightened her arms as the soft ballet music swiftly moved into Rihanna's Where Have You Been All My Life. The music choice had happened quite by chance – as she and Rachel had left the coffee shop on Wednesday evening, someone's phone had started ringing with that tone and the beat hadn't left Brittany. Rachel had helped with the ballet selection. She was more into the classical thing than Brittany was. Well, she definitely planned on becoming a lot more familiar with different ballets and their composers and such.
Finn's excellent mix played throughout the auditorium and Brittany switched effortlessly (well, she hoped it looked effortless. It certainly didn't feel like a lot of effort) from ballet to hip hop and back again. After four intense minutes, Rihanna's voice played back against the ballet (Finn's idea) and Brittany ended with her signature no hands cartwheel.
She nodded at the teachers, breathing heavily, and walked offstage. Quinn's mouth was wide open.
"Holy shit, B. That was incredible."
She grinned. "Told you it'd be worth the wait."
"And here you were all nervous five minutes ago."
Brittany shrugged and headed to the exit. She needed water. "You distracted me enough from my nerves." She took her best friend's hand and leaned in to kiss her cheek. "Thanks, Q."
A faint blush coloured the shorter girl's cheeks and she cleared her throat. "Whatever, Britt. We're celebrating. Gimme ideas."
"Laser tag?"
"Brilliant."
Brittany was humming in the shower, happily scrubbing the grime of two days' intense training from her body.
"Britt, your mom said we could take your dad's car," Quinn called through the bathroom door.
"Score! Q, hand me my toothbrush please?"
She complied, but not without protest. "I cannot understand how you can brush your teeth and wash your hair at the same time. It just doesn't seem feasible."
"Don't hate cos I can multitask. Besides, our love is unconditional." Due to the toothbrush in her mouth, most of it came out garbled.
"Whatever. I'm going to raid your closet."
"Leave my tanks alone!" Brittany yelled before the door closed.
Five minutes later, feeling like a million bucks, Brittany walked into her room wearing a towel and inspected the disaster area that was her bed.
"I'm not cleaning this up," she told Quinn, whose head was buried in her big closet. She slapped her best friend's cute ass, earning a loud squeal and selected a red dress for the night's festivities.
"Britt, we're going to Laser tag. It's not some code name for a strip club. There are teeny boppers and shit there."
"Exactly," Brittany replied with a smirk, holding the dress up against her. "This dress plus my devil heels will ensure victory for Team Brinn."
Quinn rolled her eyes. "How many times to I have to explain how lame a shipper name is? We're friends! It doesn't even make sense. Besides, Quitt's way better."
Brittany laughed and tackled Quinn onto the bed, tickling her in all her weak spots.
"Ok, Jesus! Brinn! It's Brinn!"
"I always win, Fabray," Brittany said seriously, leaning down and pecking her best friend on the lips.
Quinn's hand quickly caught Brittany's neck and pulled her back down, caressing her mouth against the dancer's. She gave in for a moment, but eventually pulled away.
"Quinn, let's not do this again, ok? It was fun and everything last year, but we both know that we don't want each other like that. Our friendship means too much to both of us to fuck it up any more. Right?"
Quinn huffed, but nodded in agreement. "Sorry. You're still hot," she added with a shrug. "You may be my best friend, but I'm still human."
Brittany winked and got off the bed. "I am definitely one fine piece of ass, as are you, Quinn Fabray. So how about we dress up these fine asses and go kick some teeny weeny asses."
"I think the word ass was used to many times there for it to sound cool."
Brittany knelt behind a fake trooper and adjusted her vest. It was causing her dress to ride up unnecessarily high. Normally she wasn't afraid of showing off some leg, but a group of mothers had given them the Disapproved Mom look when they'd arrived so she hardly wanted to cause any more trouble. She and Quinn were just out having fun.
She felt her phone vibrate against her boob and pulled it out, thinking maybe Quinn was texting her for some super strategic planning plan. Technically, no cell phones were allowed, but the attendant's eyes had just about popped out of his head when Brittany innocently asked where he expected her to hide a phone. Quinn had killed herself laughing.
Her eyes widened and she fell flat on her ass out of shock when she saw the message.
Hi Brittany. It's Santana. I just wanted to congratulate you on a truly amazing and unique performance. If that is the avenue that you're looking to go into for your winter showcase, then I would be more than happy to accompany you. Have a great weekend.
Brittany smiled goofily, staring at the screen for several moments. She couldn't help but wonder what it would sound like if she could hear Santana actually say those things to her.
She'd seen her performance! And she'd liked it! And she wanted to help! It was turning out to be a pretty fucking awesome night after a pretty fucking awesome day (minus the almost nervous breakdown).
Her vest vibrated and lights went off as some kid ran past laughing at her. She didn't care. Santana had noticed her. And they were going to spend more time together.
"Britt!" Quinn said in exasperation. "Did you get your ass handed to you by Justin Bieber over there?"
"No, I got…distracted."
"Oh, crap," Quinn muttered. "Hand it over."
"No," Brittany said stubbornly. "My message."
"Let me see it."
"No!"
"Britt, come on."
"No, Quinn!"
"Why not?"
"Because?"
"Because why?"
"Because I said so."
"That's not a reason."
"Fine. Because it's my message, not yours."
Quinn chuckled and shook her head. "Brittany Pierce, you have got it so bad for this girl."
Brittany sighed happily. "I know. Isn't she just absolutely perfect?"
"I'm starting to wonder of she's even real. She sounds like some kind of fairytale princess."
Brittany's eyes lit up in the darkness. "She totally could be. I reckon she probably has a castle somewhere."
"Did you hit your head, Britt?" Quinn asked with a note of concern.
"Nope. Santana sent me a message," she said proudly.
"Did you do a shot before we left?"
Brittany scrunched her nose. "Weren't you there? I poured four shots. Two each."
Quinn laughed. "B, there were four empty shots by the time I found you."
"Oh. Who drank them then?"
"You are priceless. Come on, let's get you out of here before you say something damaging."
"No! We have to protect Santana!" Brittany said firmly, holding up her gun with her eyes narrowed. "We have to protect the princess. You're gonna protect her with me, right, Q?"
She sighed. "But of course, B. Where else would I be?"
"You're the bestest friend ever. I'll make sure that you get knighted or something. Santana's super nice like that."
"I'm sure, Britt. Let's kick some ass already. I want nachos."
A/N: Soooo….very different, I think, to what I've done before. Drunk Britt is fun :) I'm definitely gonna write more of her :) And Badass Quinn. They're a good combo :)
Would love to hear your thoughts!
Shout out to heyabrittanaxo (AGAIN) for the awesome cover art. Serious talent, that one :)
-H