A/N: I know…terrible me. I'm so sorry :(
I know it really doesn't seem that way, but Brittana IS endgame. Promise. Like super pinky swear promise. Trust me?
Onward and up!
-H
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee :(
CHAPTER 26
Brittany held her head high as she walked down the corridors. She smirked at how the freshman dropped their heads when she passed them.
This is how it should be. I'm done playing by Rachel's rules. She's the only one that benefits because it gets her into Santana's pants.
She ignored the little voice in her head that said she'd been there too. She shook it off angrily. She was done thinking about Santana. She was done with all the crap surrounding the girl that had done something to her, had somehow fucked her up.
She was taking back control.
Shay knocked once on Coach Em's door and opened it, not waiting for a response.
"Pierce?" Coach Em asked in a nasally voice, frowning. "Did I summon you?"
"No, I came here because it's time that the Cheerios were instilled back at the top in this school. We've sat back for weeks now and it's got us nowhere. I, for one, plan to bring home that Regionals trophy in three weeks and celebrate with the simultaneous dumpster tossing of seven freshmen." She smirked.
Coach Em narrowed her eyes. "While I appreciate your rekindled passion for the destruction of lesser beings, what about your bestie? She seemed pretty adamant that we're not doing ourselves any favours by perpetually asserting our authority."
"Well, I'm not saying that Rachel's allegiance needs to be questioned, but she does have some blind spots when it comes to that ridiculous show choir."
"I heard you won."
Brittany scoffed. "No, Rachel and I won. We made everyone else look a hundred times better. They would never have come close to winning without us."
"Ok, if they're kept happy then I'm happy."
"Wait, what?" Brittany asked, furrowing her brows.
"I want you to stay in Glee."
"What?"
"I don't care what you and your Cheerios do to the losers in this establishment, but as long as you present the idea that you're on their side when it matters – that is, performing in their little club – then everyone wins."
How the fuck does everyone win? I don't want to be in that club!
"Coach, I-"
"This is non-negotiable, Pierce. If you don't like it, deposit your uniforms outside my office by end of day."
She sucked in a sharp breath. She needed the Cheerios. God, more than ever she needed the protection of her uniform.
"No problem, Coach. I was just thinking that we need to kick out Natasha, Dezi and Natalie."
"Why?"
She shrugged. "Why not?"
Coach Em smiled. "This is why I chose you."
Brittany grinned. "Thank you, Coach. I just wanted to check that we were on the same page about things. Is there anything else that you'd like?"
"Nope."
Brittany didn't offer a farewell, nor did she receive one. She closed the door behind her and headed for her locker, pulling out her phone. She texted Finn and Artie and told them to have as much fun with some freshmen before lunch.
"Brittany!"
She rolled her eyes and slipped her phone into her bra.
"You yelled?" she said dryly, slowing her steps so that Rachel could catch up with her.
"What the hell, Britt! I thought that it was clear!"
"Guess it got a little blurry," Brittany replied. "Slushies tend to fuck up the eyesight a bit. Or so I've heard."
"Why them?"
"Why not?" Brittany shrugged.
"Oh, no. You're not pulling that nonchalant shit with me. I know you. Out of everyone in this school, you chose to slushie Santana and Quinn. Why?"
"Because they are not better than me," Brittany snapped, glaring at her best friend. "And they needed to be reminded of that. Do I need to remind you as well, Berry?"
"Remind me that you're so completely insecure about yourself that you need a uniform to hide behind?" Rachel spat. "No, thanks. I got that memo."
She spun away and stalked off towards the bathrooms. Brittany felt her temper spike.
It's not because she's right, it's not. But I can't let her just say shit like that.
She set her jaw. The next morning's practice was going to be a big wake up call for Rachel.
Santana grimaced as she felt a sticky spot in her hair. It was like that slushie had extra syrup or something. It felt way stickier than previous slushies. She pushed her tray along the cafeteria line, wrinkling her nose at the options available.
"Hey, can I get that last salad?" she asked the serving lady.
"Actually, Martha, you can give that to me," a familiar voice added.
Santana turned around and glared at Brittany, who simply raised an eyebrow. "Problem?"
"Several. Number one being that you're invading my personal space. Number two being that you're a bitch. Number three being that you're a coward. Number four-"
"Ugh, you're so annoying," Brittany muttered. "Seriously, do you ever shut up?"
"No," Santana snipped. "How are you so unfathomably arrogant?"
"How do you even have conversations?" Brittany chuckled. "I can't even understand the shit that comes out of your mouth."
"Hardly surprising."
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
"Clearly, I'll have to spell it out. You obviously banged your last brain cell out with Tweedledum and Tweedledee on your Saturday night excursion to Wonderland."
"I'd be careful if I were you, Lupus. You're vastly outnumbered."
"Yeah, out in the open. That's where you do all your battles. So brave, Captain Britt. Really." She started clapping loudly and slowly.
"Fuck you, Santana."
"No thanks," she hissed back. "I regret the day I agreed to fuck you, though."
Brittany's eyes went wide and she stepped back. Santana saw that guarded and hurtful look flash across her face, but she shook her head. She'd given Brittany so many chances and the blonde cheerleader had thrown every single one back in her face.
She let out a disbelieving laugh. "You know what? I'm not doing this anymore. I'm done playing your fucked up games. What you say, what you do, I don't care anymore. If you want to go through life being a complete bitch and so insecure about who you are, then fine. But don't try and make me feel bad for you. Because I'm done feeling anything for you."
She abandoned her tray and walked away, shaking her head. She watched people whispering as she walked past, towards the glee table.
"San!"
She almost walked into Rachel in her haste.
"Not now, Rach," she mumbled.
"No, you don't get to run away from me," she said firmly, grabbing Santana's hand. "What happened?"
The Latina sighed. "Your best friend is officially the craziest person that I have ever met and I am so done with her bullshit. I mean it, I'm done with her."
"Yeah, it's very tempting to turn my back on her."
Santana arched an eyebrow. "But she's your best friend."
"Yeah, she is, and I love her, but sometimes I really just…I don't understand her."
"Well, if you don't then I don't think anyone has a hope to."
Rachel nibbled on her bottom lip and Santana just sighed. "I'll see you after school?"
"No, I'll come have lunch with you."
"I kinda lost my appetite."
Rachel shrugged and brought the hand she was holding up to kiss it. "Come on."
They walked to the glee table and Santana sat on the end of the bench, straddling it. Rachel sat in front of her, her back against Santana's front. The Latina wrapped an arm around her waist and leaned in to kiss her cheek.
"Did we miss the memo?" Sam asked in confusion.
"There wasn't one," Rachel replied.
"Are you two back together?" Mercedes asked. "Because if Saturday night was any indication, it was bound to happen sooner or later."
Santana smiled and nuzzled Rachel's exposed neck.
"Rachel."
Both her and Santana turned disinterestedly to the owner of the voice.
"You're needed at our table," Brittany announced.
"I'm good."
Gasps echoed around the cafeteria.
"Perhaps you misheard me."
"No, I heard you just fine."
"And you're refusing your captain?"
"No, I'm refusing you, Brittany. This is me, Rachel, telling you, Brittany, to fuck off and leave me to enjoy my lunch in peace."
"Bad move, Rachel," Brittany murmured, before spinning on her heel and heading back to the Cheerios table.
"You sure that was a good idea?"
"I don't care anymore, Santana. Really, I don't. I used to get that all the shit she pulled was because she was Head Cheerio, but she's getting malicious for no reason now and I've tried being nice, I've tried being a bitch, I've tried tough love, but it's like talking to a brick fucking wall. I don't know what else to do. All I know is that I'm done standing aside and watching her fuck around with people."
"You're all kinds of sexy when you're being rebellious," Santana teased, wrapping her other arm around Rachel's waist, securing her against her chest.
"Dear God, some of us are eating," Mercedes said in exasperation.
"We're not," Santana said seriously.
"Where's Quinn?" Rachel enquired.
"Uh, dunno, actually." Santana looked around, but saw no sign of her bestie. "Hey, any idea why Brittany went for Quinn? I mean, I know why she slushied me, but I thought her and Quinn were sort of ok?"
Rachel lifted a shoulder. "I wouldn't put it past her to still be pissed about the whole Puck situation."
Santana huffed. "Brittany and her inexplicable obsession with idiotic meatheads."
"I don't wanna talk about her anymore," Rachel mumbled, leaning her head back against Santana's shoulder.
The Latina smiled and started humming into her neck, slowly rocking them to an imaginary beat. Whatever drama Brittany concocted, it didn't matter anymore. She was back with Rachel, where she wanted to be, and as far as she was concerned, Brittany and her bucket loads of drama could take a flying leap of a cliff.
Quinn had one class with Brittany Pierce, and that class was gym. After what had happened that morning, she was determined to talk to the head cheerleader. She didn't mention anything about her plan to Santana, especially after what she'd heard had gone down at lunch.
The word that Santana and Rachel were back together was making the rounds pretty quickly. Of course, she'd known on Saturday night already. The memory of what she'd seen Brittany go through that night and Sunday morning was etched into her brain. The cheerleader was in trouble – that much was very clear.
"Bitches, don't take forever!" she heard Brittany call as she entered the locker room from the field.
"Brittany," she said, walking up to where she was pulling off her shoes.
She glanced up and shook her head. "What, Fabray? If you're looking for an apology, keep walking."
"I'm not. I just wanted to talk to you."
"About?"
"Your feelings for Santana."
Quinn was immediately slammed against the locker, blue eyes flashing furiously. "Don't say shit like that!" she hissed. "What the hell is wrong with you? Someone could have heard!"
"Is that what you're afraid of?" she inquired, keeping her gaze steady. "Is that why you're doing everything you can to push her away?"
"Shut your fucking mouth, Fabray. You don't know shit about me. Just because you got slushied, doesn't mean you get to spread rumours."
She let her go and shook her head, reaching into her locker for her phone. Quinn saw how her hands were shaking.
"It's not a rumour," she said softly. "I saw you, Brittany. I saw you when you found them in Rachel's bedroom yesterday morning and I saw you drinking yourself into oblivion. I'm guessing you probably saw them on Saturday night, which prompted your…high levels of intoxication."
"God, what is it with you Gleeks? Can't you speak fucking normally? Yes, I got blind as fuck drunk. Why? Because I wanted to. End of story."
"You know what's going to happen if you keep ignoring this, Brittany? You're going to self-destruct. Your relationship with Rachel is already on thin ice because you're trying to have the best of all worlds without actually giving anything back."
"You don't know what you're saying, ok? Just leave it alone. Go find someone else to psychoanalyse."
She pulled her shirt over her head and threw it angrily in her locker.
"Brittany-"
"Shut up," she cut in furiously. "Stop fucking talking."
"Rachel and Santana are getting stronger every day that they're together. You do realise that you're going to have to see them together every day, right?"
She saw Brittany pause slightly, before pulling her shorts down. "So? Rachel can fucks whoever she wants."
"Really? You're ok with knowing that she's having sex with Santana very single day? You're ok with seeing them kissing and holding hands and-"
"Jesus, yes! It's fine! What the fuck is your point?"
Quinn shook her head. "You can't deny this forever. You need to tell Santana how you feel. You need to tell before she and Rachel become really serious."
Brittany snorted. "You're delusional. I don't have feelings for Santana. Other than occasionally having to check my gag reflex. So why don't you turn around and march your Dr. Louise act somewhere else, huh?"
"You think that after what's happened between the two of you that Santana wouldn't have done it if she hadn't felt anything?"
Quinn smirked. That had Brittany's attention. She folded her arms across her chest. "Come clean with Santana and let her decide."
She saw the words churning in the cheerleader's head and turned around, her job done. Brittany needed to confront what she was dealing with and the best way to do that would be to talk to Santana.
Talk to Santana? Was she fucking high?
Speaking of…
Brittany pulled her wet hair into a high pony and checked her reflection in the full length mirrors all over the Cheerios locker room. Picture of perfection. She smirked. She was a straight high school cheerleader. No matter what Quinn Nosey Fabray thought, she didn't have feelings for Santana.
She didn't.
She didn't.
She groaned inwardly, slammed her locker shut and headed out of the locker room. A familiar giggle caught her attention and she made the mistake of looking to her left and seeing Santana kissing Rachel all over her face, smiles on both their lips. Santana paused and looked at Rachel for a moment. The tenderness in that look punched Brittany in the gut. She quickly backtracked and stumbled through the locker room doors.
Shit, shit, shit! This is not good.
She didn't have feelings for Santana. It was just the gag reflex like she'd said to Nosey.
What about the tears yesterday? What about drinking to forget?
"No," she whispered desperately. "I can't! I can't!"
What the hell did she need to do to get rid of them? She had to get rid of the stupid feelings somehow. She couldn't have feelings for Santana. She couldn't.
I have to do something.
Santana kissed Rachel on the cheek and headed to the locker room for some water before she went to her Physics class.
She hummed as she opened the door and she got the feeling that someone was watching her. She stopped her humming and looked up, but didn't see anyone.
Pierce has got you paranoid. Chill the fuck out.
She started humming again and headed for the sinks. She bypassed the regular sinks and headed for the Cheerios part of the locker room. She did it mostly because if Brittany knew, she'd be pissed. It was her own little rage against the machine.
"What are you doing in here?"
Well, what are the odds?
Santana turned around and leaned against the sinks. "Oh fearful Brittany, please don't give me detention!" she said in a pitiful voice. "I promise I only peed in the showers once."
Brittany frowned and Santana matched it. Why wasn't she being snarky and bitchy? And why was she looking at her with that familiar piercing look into her soul. She stood up straight. With their history, looks like that generally led to very bad things. Things that she wasn't going to do again. Ever again.
"Santana-"
"Sorry," she said quickly, practically sprinting out of the locker room.
Brittany punched the locker with the side of her fist. Fucking Fabray. Now she looked like a fucking idiot. Who the hell did she think she was, putting stupid ideas like that in her head? She was going to pay for that. Brittany grabbed her phone and texted Artie. He had no soul. He'd do whatever she told him to.
Once the message had been sent, she went out towards the fields, heading for the manky old couch where she'd had a surreal heart to heart with Afroboy. As she got closer, she saw his familiar head of unruly hair and promptly flopped onto the couch.
"Hit me, Afroboy," she ordered, in lieu of a greeting.
"Ok," he said uncertainly, and gave her a soft slap on the arm.
She looked at him pointedly. "No, dumbass, of your joint."
"You want me to hit you with my joi-oh! I get it!" He grinned and handed over the blunt.
Brittany inhaled deeply, savouring the sensation that immediately hit her as she held the smoke in. She exhaled and immediately took another hit.
"Don't hog it!" Blaine whined.
Brittany rolled her eyes and passed it back to him. She leaned back and exhaled, watching the smoke evaporate into the air above her.
"So, Afroboy, how's your mystery woman?"
He stared at her. "How did you know?"
"You told me."
"I did?"
"Hmmmm."
"What's her name?"
"I dunno. You never told me that."
"Oh. Then I have no idea who she is!" he said with a laugh.
Brittany stared at him and rolled her eyes.
"How's your mystery woman?" Blaine asked suddenly.
Brittany coughed the smoke she'd just inhaled. "What did you say?"
"Well, if I was talking about a mystery woman, then I think you were too."
"Why would I be talking about a mystery woman?" Brittany asked suspiciously.
Blaine squinted at her. "You didn't speak about a mystery woman?"
The cheerleader paused, weighing her options. Considering the shit that she'd been told earlier, she decided that playing it safe was her best option.
"No, I'm not into women."
"Oh, that's a pity."
"Why?" She took another drag.
"Because women are super soft and pretty and they smell really good."
She had a flash of feeling Santana's naked body against hers in the sauna. It had been very soft and she had smelled good.
Wait, no. No!
She shook her head, making herself dizzy.
Shit, I'm fucking high.
She didn't actually care about that. Weed made her a little loose. More specifically, made her tongue a little loose.
"Can we just smoke?" she snapped. "I don't come here to talk."
"We could sing?" Blaine suggested, lighting another joint.
Brittany stared at him for a few moments, then shrugged. "Yeah, ok."
Quinn headed to her car after school, rummaging around in her bag for her keys. Just as she'd found them, she walked straight into someone.
"Oh, I'm so sorry! Are you…" she trailed off when she saw who it was. "Never mind. Can't say that I care if you're ok."
Artie Abrams smirked. "You know the drill boys."
He stepped aside and Quinn was hit with slushies from every angle. She froze as her body went into shock from the cold.
"Up and at 'em!" Artie said snapping his fingers.
Quinn felt herself being lifted up. "No, no, no," she whimpered. "Please, not there."
She tried struggling, but she really had no hope against three football guys. As they approached the dumpsters, they purposefully took her to the one closest to the cafeteria, where all the kitchen scraps were thrown out. Artie opened the dumpster and let out a disgusted laugh.
"Damn, that shit stinks, yo."
Quinn squeezed her eyes closed and took a deep breath as the meatheads swung her into the stinky dumpster. She felt herself sink into whatever had been tossed into the dumpster before her and the smell engulfed her senses. Her stomach lurched and she whimpered out loud.
She heard Artie and the other football guys laughing and giving each other high fives. Tears stung her eyes and she knew it wasn't because of the slushie. This attack had been personal. This was Brittany retaliating for her being nosy.
So this is what I get for trying to help her. Fine. She wants to dig her own grave, then fine. I tried and I very obviously failed.
She waited until the voices of the footballers got farther away before she tried getting up. Her foot was covered in mashed potato and she was covered in foul smelling sauces. Who the hell knew if they were even sauces?
It took her a while to stand up in the mess and she put her hands on the edge of the dumpster to help herself out of the metal container.
"Quinn?"
"San?"
She looked up and saw her best friend looking at her in horror. Her eyes flashed.
"Who?" she growled.
"Just help me out," she said wearily.
Santana jumped into action, not caring that the smelly crap was getting on her. She sat on the edge of the dumpster, using her impeccable balance and strength to lift Quinn climb out.
"Ok, you're out. Now tell me who I'm going to kill."
Quinn sighed. "It was the football guys. But…"
"But?" Santana pressed.
She frowned. "How did you even know I was in there?"
"You're changing the subject," Santana snapped. "But I found your bag on the ground covered in slushie. When I saw the trail leading here, I kinda figured."
"Thank you," Quinn said softly, grimacing at how much crap had got stuck to her because of the slushies. "Ugh, this is going to be a bitch to get out."
"Quinn, please," Santana begged. "This is beyond not cool. I'm frigging shaking here because I'm so mad. Who did this?"
"Brittany," she eventually whispered.
"Bitch is dead," Santana vowed. "I mean it. This time, no playing nice. That bitch is so fucking dead."
"Santana, please. She…"
"She what? She's too chicken shit to actually throw a slushie herself that she gathers her minions to do her evil bidding? I don't care, Quinn. The person who orders the hit is just as guilty as the person who pulls the trigger."
"Yes, I agree, but-"
"Oh, no. Hell no. You are not defending her. Quinn, nothing can excuse this kind of bullying."
"She's just confused!" Quinn eventually yelled.
Santana frowned. "No, I'm confused." She pointed to her face. "See this? This is confused. Because I don't even know what that means. Brittany is not confused. Brittany is a malicious bitch who is finally put in her place." She took a deep breath. Come on, I'll take you home."
"No, it's fine. I can take myself home."
"You sure?" Santana asked, concern lacing her features. "Are you hurt anywhere?"
"No. Whatever crap was in there cushioned my fall." She wrinkled her nose. "God, it really smells."
Santana pulled a similar face. "Remind me never to eat at the cafeteria again."
Quinn cracked a small smile. "Santana, please don't do anything reckless."
Her best friend's eyes went dark – which was saying something, considering they were already quite a dark shade of brown.
"I'm not letting this go."
"Please, just…don't do anything you'll regret."
Santana laughed bitterly. "When it comes to Wonder Barbie, my track record is full enough of regretful decisions. I don't plan to add to it."
"Do you regret it?" Quinn asked suddenly.
Santana's eyes went wide. "What?"
"I mean…I only ask because it happened more than once."
"How do you know?" she whispered.
Quinn frowned. Wait… "Oh my God! You had another something with her!"
"Ssssh!" she hissed. "God, what is wrong with you."
"When? And why didn't you tell me?"
Santana sighed in frustration. "The night before Sectionals. I went out to look for her because I was, I dunno, worried or whatever. I found her in this ballroom and she was dancing and she looked…sad. I don't think I've ever seen someone look so sad."
This is what must have prompted Brittany's change of heart. The morning of Sectionals, she started bitching us out again.
"She saw me watching her and I ran, but she chased me and caught me and…kissed me."
"And?"
"And what?"
"Did you kiss her back?"
Santana glared at her. "Why would you ask me that?"
Quinn smirked. "You did."
"Yeah, so what?" Santana threw up her hands. "Ugh! This is so fucked up. You don't even know how fucked up it is."
"No, I'm pretty aware," she replied quietly. "But if you keep kissing her back and reacting to her when she comes onto you, then don't you think that means something?"
"Yeah, it means I need to get my head checked because there's something wrong with me."
"Why do you say that?"
"Stop Dr. Phil-ing me! Christ, Quinn! I thought you were on my side here!"
"I am !" Quinn protested. "I am, I promise. I'm just trying to understand why you keep giving into Brittany. That's all I'm asking."
Santana sighed, all the fight leaving her. "If I knew that, I would tell you. All I can say is that when she looks at me in a certain way, it's like I'm hypnotised and my body just reacts. I honestly can't control it. Only after something happens does my logic kick in and then I push her away." She shook her head. "What do you think I should do?"
"I think that you and Brittany need to talk. Especially since you and Rachel are back together. You really don't want a repeat of what happened before."
"No, I know. I really don't want that either. I mean, I don't want to be with Brittany or anything like that."
"You don't?" Quinn couldn't help but ask.
Santana stared at her in disbelief. "Seriously?"
"Well, what about her would deter you about dating her?"
"Besides the fact that she's completely mental?"
"Yet you continually hook up with her."
The Latina groaned. "Fine, ok. Point made. But, realistically, Quinn. Brittany is not the relationship type. Besides the fact that she refuses to believe that she's anything other than straight, she's got a pile of issues so high that would put the Eiffel Tower to shame."
"Do you have feelings for her?"
"For Brittany?" Santana laughed.
"I think it's a legitimate question," Quinn argued with a frown.
"No. Definitely not."
"So the hypnosis that she puts you under has nothing to do with any feelings for her?"
"No," Santana replied, sounding a little uncertain. "It's just physical. Besides, I don't even know why we're speculating about this. I'm with Rachel and I plan to be with her for a while. Brittany's being a total bitch again – speaking of, I shall bid thee adieu to go and verbally abuse some bottle blonde hiney."
"You know she's not a bottle blonde, right?"
Santana sighed. "Just go with it. It makes my insult better."
Quinn shook her head. "Just…don't go overboard."
"Moi? Never." Santana leaned in for a hug and paused as she got closer.
"It's ok," Quinn said with a resigned groan. "Go."
Brittany stretched, enjoying the respite her muscles was getting after a good yoga session in her backyard. She couldn't remember what positions she'd gotten herself into on Saturday night, but she felt it.
She pulled a face at the thought of having a threesome with those two guys. She was kind of glad she didn't really remember it. She shuddered and felt suddenly dirty. She glanced at the inviting pool and pulled her shirt off, leaving her in her short workout shorts and sports bra. She dived in, relishing in the cool water after working up a sweat on the yoga mat. She surfaced and heard banging.
She looked back towards her house in alarm. The twins were at friends or some shit and her parents were…wherever. She'd hardly seen them since they'd returned from London.
She climbed out of the pool, suddenly realising that she didn't have a towel. Who the hell could it even be?
She stood at the entrance to the living room. "It's open!" she yelled.
Her eyes widened when the door flew open and Santana Lopez stood there. Brittany almost could see that smoke rising from her head.
"You!" Santana thundered, stalking towards her. "I have a good mind to rip your fucking head off, bitch!"
"Why now?" Brittany asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but a really pissed off Santana was kinda scary.
Also, kinda hot.
No! She's not! Fuck!
"You know exactly what, Brittany. What the hell did Quinn ever do to you?"
She smirked. So the boys had got her good. She was glad. It was time for Santana to also realise that she couldn't just mess her around.
Who's messing whom around here?
"She only got her just desserts."
"For what?" Santana asked in exasperation.
Brittany opened her mouth to tell her, but she froze with the realisation that if she told her the truth, Santana would push her to reveal what Quinn had told her and she definitely didn't want that.
"Uh, what do you think? For fucking around with my man when he was with me."
"Oh, Jesus." Santana pinched the edge of her nose and shook her head. She stepped past Brittany and onto the grass of her backyard. "What are we, in fucking middle school? People make their own decisions. Unless, of course, they're a mindless drone controlled by you. Puck made his own choice to pursue Quinn. That was his decision. Quinn didn't even know that you two were together. Besides, what do you even care? It's not like you were left wanting. Had a replacement meathead lined right up."
Brittany chuckled. Santana was right. She did have a lot of meatheads lined up. And they were all willing. Not so much able, but definitely willing.
"Hey." Santana snapped her fingers in front of her face.
"What?" she asked bored.
"I want you to apologise to Quinn."
"Ok, sorry, Quinn."
Santana clenched her fists and Brittany raised an eyebrow in challenge. "You gonna hit me, Lupus?"
She was breathing heavily and Brittany took a moment to appreciate how the passion just radiated off her. Whether it was anger, joy, desire…
Wait, what? No, not thinking about desire. Nope.
"I'm not fucking around here. Apologise to Quinn properly and I might consider this little infraction forgotten."
"And what would stop me from just doing something else? Maybe I'll hit your home girl, Mercedes. Or your weed buddy, Afroboy. Hmmm, the possibilities are endless."
"Why?" Santana asked. "Why now? What changed that you decided that being the bitch was actually worth it again? I thought we'd kind of reached a common ground."
"A common ground?" Brittany scoffed. "Please. What's the point in playing nice when it didn't get me any of the shit being a bitch did. Did it ever occur to you that it's actually physically impossible for me not to be a bitch? Maybe it's so ingrained in my DNA that I just have to be the biggest bitch that you've ever met."
"And, what? I'm you nemesis or something?"
Brittany shrugged. "Whatever. There's always the idiot in the story who thinks that they can handle the big bad on their own. And you know what happens? They always lose."
"Good always wins," Santana argued.
The blonde snorted. "Yeah, in movies. I'm referring to this little thing called real life. You know, the thing you're completely failing at? Found a way to completely change people's way of thinking yet? No? Hmmm." Brittany headed back towards the pool. She felt the need to cool down.
"Hang on, I'm not done talking to you," Santana said, grabbing her arm.
Brittany paused and looked at her, then down at her hand on her arm, and back up into her eyes. "You know, the last time this happened, I was the one grabbing you. So, are you gonna kiss me now or something?"
Santana dropped her arm and stepped back. "W-what? No. No. That was a mistake."
"A mistake? You kissed me back." She turned to face Santana fully.
"I was taken by surprise," she argued.
"Yeah, I'm sure that's what you were telling yourself when your hands were all over my body."
She had no idea where her sudden confidence had come from. She didn't talk about what had happened between them. She barely acknowledged it for fear of accepting that it meant something more than…whatever it was. But something that Quinn had said had played over and over in her head.
You think that after what's happened between the two of you that Santana wouldn't have done it if she hadn't felt anything?
"Brittany, w-what happened was a mistake. You said that yourself! You're always the one that initiates these things and then pretends that nothing ever happened. Your mood swings change so fast you give me whiplash."
Brittany send her a smile and she saw Santana's eyes widened. She back further away.
"No, no, no. You're not allowed to look at me like that."
"Why not, Santana? Does it make you uncomfortable?"
"Just…stop it."
"I thought that it meant nothing. If it meant nothing then why can't I look at you how I want."
Santana stopped and Brittany had to stop her stepping forward to prevent her crashing into the brunette.
"What did you say?" Santana asked.
Brittany rolled her eyes. "I make you uncomfortable."
"You said 'why can't I look at you how I want'."
Oh, shit.
"Th-that's not what I meant," Brittany said quickly, backtracking towards the pool.
"Oh, no. You don't get to pretend that you didn't say that when, for the first time since all this shit went down, we're actually talking about it."
"What are we talking about, Santana? We agreed that nothing happened."
"Right. Nothing happened, Brittany. Sure. Let me ask you this. Do you have feelings for me?"
Shit.
"No," she said determinedly, staring at the water. "Do you have feelings for me?"
"No," Santana replied easily and Brittany knew she was being honest. She hated how her gut clenched painfully.
"Fine, then. We're agreed. No feelings, nothing happened. I think you should go now."
"Hang on. Look at me."
She refused, keeping her eyes steadfastly on the water. She couldn't crumble. She'd already shot herself in the foot by talking about all this shit.
"Brittany, look at me."
"Why, what difference would it make?"
"Because I'll know if you're lying."
She scoffed. "You can't tell that."
"Actually, yes I can. You think that you hide yourself pretty well, but your tell is in your eyes."
Oh, no. She's not looking at my eyes. Hell no.
"Oh, look, our show and tell time is up for today," she said instead. "You opened the door, don't let it hit you when you close it on your way out."
"No."
She couldn't help but look at her. "No?"
Santana set her jaw, determination flashing in her eyes. "I'm sick of dancing around whatever this is. We can't change what happened in the past, but I have a good thing going with Rachel and I'm not about to fuck that up again. Brittany, we need to figure this out."
"Fine, then answer me this," Brittany said. "Why, if you never had feelings for me, did you fuck me next to your garage?"
Santana opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again, and closed it again.
"Honestly, I wish I had a definite answer for you. I don't know why."
"Did you feel nothing?"
Santana looked at her incredulously. "Really? You think that I'd do that if I was an empty shell. Not all of us treat sex as an exercise routine."
Brittany narrowed her eyes. "So you did feel something?"
"Yes! But that's not the point! I've kind of accepted the fact that I have this weird, inexplicable pull to you."
She…what?
"A pull?"
"Yeah." Santana sighed and rubbed her face against her hands. "I've never had to deal with anything like this before, ok? I'm really into Rachel. Like, really into her. I see us going somewhere. But then you come along and I don't even know what the fuck is going on because you…"
She trailed off when Brittany stepped right in front of her, so close that she could feel her quickened breaths on her neck.
"Because I what?" Brittany whispered.
"Stop this," Santana croaked, stepping back. "Seriously, Brittany. It's not cool. We are not a good idea."
"We're not a good idea?"
"No," Santana said vehemently, shaking her head. "We're like the worst idea ever. You're a commitment-phobe and frigging sex maniac and I'm looking for something deeper than that."
"What, love?"
Santana nodded.
"And you don't think I can do that?"
Santana laughed. "You're actually asking me that? No, Brittany, I don't think you can. This whole thing started almost two months ago and this is the first time that you're even able to talk about it. I mean, are you gay? Or, I dunno, bisexual maybe?"
Brittany froze. Screamed words came back to her and she started shaking her head. "No, no, I'm not. I'm not any of that."
"Ok, you do realise that you were just arguing with me about being in a relationship with me. I'm a girl. You can't be straight and be in a relationship with a girl, Brittany."
"Fine, then why are we even talking about it?"
Things are getting out of control and fast.
Doing the first thing that came into her mind, she turned and jumped into the pool, staying at the bottom for as long as her lungs allowed her to.
"Brittany!" she heard Santana shout in exasperation. "Stop fucking running away from me!"
She needs to leave. We need to stop talking.
"Go away!" she shouted back, her back to Santana.
"No fuck this. I'm done pretending that this shit didn't happen, Brittany! I'm sick of secrets and lying and avoiding each other."
"Fine!" Brittany snapped, whirling around and wading towards the steps. "Fine, this is me not avoiding whatever this is. Would you do it again?"
Santana flushed and dropped her eyes.
"Would you?" Brittany pressed, stepping out of the pool, water dripping around her. "Would you take me against your garage wall and fuck me with your fingers?"
"Brittany-"
"It's a yes or no question."
"No," she said quietly.
Wow. Well, that feels like shit.
"Fine," she said, her voice cracking a little. "We've established that you don't want me and I don't need you so can we accept that we've discussed this? Can we move on?"
Santana swallowed. "Brittany, look at me."
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, willing her inner strength to hold out for the question she was pretty sure she knew Santana was going to ask. When she opened her eyes, she met a conflicted set of brown eyes. She waited.
"Do you have feelings for me?" she asked quietly.
"If I say yes, will you leave?" Brittany replied shortly.
Santana shook her head. "That's not an answer. I want you to be honest. I'd like the animosity between us to stop. Wouldn't you?"
"Not particularly," she replied flippantly.
The brunette sighed. "Answer the question."
"The last time I asked myself that question, we ended up with your fingers deep inside me," Brittany stated.
"Jesus," Santana whispered, shaking her head.
"So, Santana, if I say yes, are you going to fuck me? Are you going to let me fuck you? Oh, maybe we could do it in the pool. That's always fun. Alternatively, we've got an array of lounge chairs, there's the guest bedroom that I believe you're already quite familiar with," Santana's eyes widened at that comment, "and then there's my bedroom. The Holy Grail. Oh, the number of people who've begged to see the inside of that room. Well, here you go. You want the full tour?" Her voice was monotonous and devoid of emotion.
Santana just looked at her and shook her head slightly. "I don't know who's told you that what you feel is so wrong, or who's made you feel so worthless that you need to virtually sell your body to feel anything."
"Shut up," Brittany snapped. "I'm done with you and your goodie fucking two shoes friends psychoanalysing me like I'm an animal in a cage."
"But don't you see? That's exactly what you are! You're an animal in this cage created by society, by yourself, by your peers, maybe your parents and their expectations, but-"
Slap.
Brittany was breathing hard and her hand was stinging. So were her eyes.
"Get out," she whispered furiously. "As far as I'm concerned, the next time I see you, it will be on the day that we graduate and I'll be walking out of McKinley's doors. Whatever happened, whatever did or didn't happen, it doesn't matter. Got it? You're with Rachel so go and make your fucking lady babies until you're blue in the face. I'll be here, in my cage, selling my body."
She pushed past Santana and stormed inside. She looked up and saw the front door closed.
What…?
"It was you."
Her breath caught in her throat. She turned slowly towards the couch against the wall.
"How…how much did you hear?" Brittany stammered.
Rachel met her eyes and the blonde felt another punch to her gut at the sadness and betrayal. "Everything."
A/N: She finally knows! Hmmm…now what?
Just because Santana kinda forced Brittany to talk about what happened, doesn't by any stretch mean that she's going to suddenly come bursting out of the closet. Oh no, our favourite blonde has a few skeletons hiding in that closet with her and they'll have to make their appearances before she does…
A little news – I've found that I'm spreading myself too thinly with all my fics and my own original writing that I'm splitting my focus. I'm going to finish A Different Life first and then A Silent Song before continuing with this. The only reason why I'm going to finish A Silent Song first is because there are only a handful of chapters left in that story. There's still a LOT that needs to be covered in this story and I want to be able to give it the focus it deserves – and give you guys more regular updates :)
Anywho, you can check out how things are going by following my Tumblr – I pretty much post everything on there.
Onward and up!
-H
Tumblr, Twitter and Ask – hlnwst