She's really starting to regret not bringing her cap to practice as the early spring sun beams down from the far side of the field, but despite not being able to actually see the ball she can tell by the shouting that it's far enough away to not cause her any problems. She brings her hand up to her face, blocking out the brightness, just in time to watch the captain, Quinn Fabray, cross the ball into the penalty area, only for Carly, the keeper, to jump up and catch it before anyone even gets the chance to attempt a header.
It's weird seeing your own team play against each other, Brittany thinks. Like, how she should be impressed that her teammate and fellow goalkeeper stopped a potential goal but she's actually bummed because if she didn't then her team would be winning. Well, winning by even more.
Carly takes no time to throw the ball to Alex, one of her center backs, who is fast to get the ball away from the goal and towards the halfway line where Phoebe, the striker, is already running towards you and Brittany's really hoping that one of her teammates closes her down before she has the chance to shoot.
"Tina! Close her down!" The blonde demands, her defender quickly obeying her as she runs towards the attacker, who reacts with a shot towards goal that deflects off of Tina, allowing Brittany to comfortably catch the rebound and roll the ball back out but not before giving the defender a thumbs up.
Her hands are on her hips as she stands on the edge of the box and she squints, her eyes never leaving the ball that's now in the center of the field being comfortably passed around between the midfield and backline.
It's one of the reasons why she loves being a keeper, sure it's a lot of pressure and sometimes winning or losing is literally in her hands but for most part she gets to just stand and watch the game, a game that she'll never get tired of watching or playing.
It's not too long after that she can't see the ball again, not with the sun blazing down on her and it allows her to focus on other things around her, like her coach, who is stood with a clipboard obviously talking about tactics to the assistant coach, or the birds that keep chirping, or the fact that she's not the only one who's not focused on the game anymore, and that even though she can't really see that much, she knows that they're glaring at her. She also knows that if it was anyone else she would just assume that it was because the sun was also in their eyes.
But it's not anyone else.
It's Santana.
It's Santana who has her back turned towards the sun.
It's Santana, the person who's been giving Brittany that exact look everytime she sees her ever since they both showed up at the training camp 3 days ago.
To be honest, Brittany's not really why she's so surprised, after all Santana may possibly be the bitchiest and most stubborn person on this Earth. Well, maybe not the entire Earth but definitely in the camp because like Brittany, Santana was also new to the team and it was obvious that she wasn't interested in making any friends. Most of the time she kept herself to herself. The only time she would really talk to anyone was in practice or when she was making some sort of snarky comment, mainly aimed at the blonde. It made Brittany feel like an outsider despite becoming fast friends with others on the team.
When Holly, the coach, gave her the call to say that she had made the squad for the third and final round of the World Cup qualifiers she had mentioned that Santana would also be joining the squad for the first time and when she had asked if the would be and issues between the two of them, Brittany was fast to say that there wouldn't be. That they would act as how all teammates should act and that they would be mature. As it turns out, Santana is anything but mature, especially when it comes to people she doesn't, which is most people, Brittany being one of them and seems to be on the top of Santana's hit list based off of the tweets aimed at her and the constant shoving whenever they're in touching distance.
It's not until Santana's glare disappears as she runs towards the blonde shouting her name when she realizes, but by then it's too late and all she can do is watch as the ball flies past her and into the net.
Sighing, she kicks the ground before turning to retrieve the ball that lays trapped in the bottom of the net, the sound of the other team, that's also her team (she's still confused), celebrating is drowned out by the beating of her heart when she notices a very pissed off Santana stomp towards her, arms crossed in front of the red training jersey.
Ignoring the brunette, Brittany puts her head down as she throws the ball towards Holly, who stands in the middle of the field, whistle in her mouth as she high fives Phoebe and shouts for everyone to get back into their starting positions which they do, all except one.
"What the fuck, Pierce!" Santana shouted,her eyebrows furrowed, the blonde hadn't even noticed how close she had gotten. "You need to watch the fucking ball. How are we supposed to win anything if you're too busy watching fucking clouds."
"Brittany, what was that?" Holly interrupts, she hadn't even realized she had come over. Maybe she should start paying attention to what's going on around her.
Then again so should Santana. There are no clouds. The sky is completely clear apart from a very bright sun.
"Sorry, I wasn't paying attention." The keeper admits, watching as a smirk appears on Santana's face, clearly enjoying the fact that she's gonna get in trouble.
"Well you gotta start paying attention, Kiddo. You're not gonna be able to get away with that in an actual game." The older blonde warns and gently squeezes her arm before walking away.
"If we lose it's on you."
"It's just practice, Santana." Brittany tells her, "Plus, we're still winning so it's okay."
"And what if they come from behind because you can't do your job right. Will it matter then? What about tomorrow when we play an actual game? Are you gonna pay attention then?"
"Santana, if you're so worried about losing maybe you should actually start scoring some goals instead of relying on me to save them." She argues back, even though deep down she knows Santana is right. She could cost her team a chance at playing in the biggest soccer tournament in the world because of her own mistakes.
"You shouldn't even be on the team."
"Lopez! That's not for you to decide." Coach chides, back on the sidelines, "Now get your ass back into position."
And with one last glare, Santana walks away.
It's only a few minutes after they coincide when the opposing team has the chance to equalize, except this time she's ready. She never takes her eyes off the ball as she watches as the through ball comes to Phoebe, shouting at her defenders to close the striker down but before Tina gets the chance, she's already taken the shot, the ball flying through the air, forcing Brittany to take the dive, pushing the ball away to the side before safely smothering it, not allowing Phoebe to have an attempt at the rebound.
"Good job, Pierce!" Someone praises, she's not too sure who, she's too busy pushing herself off of the floor, the ball still in her hands. All she does know is that her team are surroundings
She's too busy pushing herself off of the floor, ball still in her hands, to notice who the good job, Pierce! came from as her teammates praise her, some coming to give her a playful shove while others, including Quinn, who are further out field, give her a thumbs up, all except one, who isn't even paying attention, but rather sprinting further away.
Waving her hands out to the field indicating her team to move forward she looks out to see Santana, eager as ever, waving her arms, but Brittany decides to ignore the screaming of her name and takes a short kick out wide to the right back.
Which obviously pisses Santana off given the way she's shaking her head at the keeper's decision and slaps her arms against her side before running into space, shoving Alex to the floor in the process.
In the end they win 3 to 1, the final goal coming just before the final whistle from a header from Quinn, who was assisted by Santana, which cheered her up. Kinda.
Taking a slow stroll off the field Brittany can't help but feel a little left out as she takes a look around at her teammates, watching how Quinn and Tina tease Alex and Carly about winning and in return Carly just throws her gloves off the duo.
She can tell they're a close team, some closer than others. She just hopes that she can soon feel like less of an outsider.
"Pierce!" Turning around she watches as Quinn runs towards her, still smiling, "You did good."
"Thanks." Brittany says softly, her eyes focused on taking her gloves off.
"I'm serious," The captain reassures, sensing that she's still a little down from her earlier mistake, "Don't doubt yourself just because you made one mistake. We all make them, especially Lopez, so don't take what she said to heart. She's a bitch. I'm glad you're here because you, I and literally everyone else out there knows that you deserve your spot on the team. We've all seen what you've done over the years and I'm surprised it's taken you so long to get the call up. You're the best keeper out there. No offense, Carly."
"None taken." Carly shouts from across the locker room, making the blonde chuckle.
Feeling like her pep talk worked, Quinn gives her shoulder a squeeze before walking over to her locker. It makes her feel better. The faith that Quinn seems to have in her. It's not that she's not used to people saying she's good, then again she's also used to people saying she's not good enough but there's something that makes her feel proud of herself hearing the former from her captain.
Quinn Fabray has played with many goalkeepers within her career and she's scored against even more. She had started off as a young central midfielder for her school team before getting scouted in her freshman year of college and just a year later she got her first cap for the international squad. But it was at the last World Cup where people really found out who she was and not in a good way. It was her fault that they were knocked out of the competition in the semi-finals.
(Well not entirely her fault but that's what everyone says.)
She made one mistake.
One mistake that cost them the game.
She had made a mistimed pass in added time that allowed the opposition to steal the ball and go on their way to scoring the winning goal.
She had been known as the nineteen-year-old that cost the US from getting to the World Cup final for the first time since 2003.
It almost ruined her career.
Except she didn't let people get to her. Instead she worked her ass off, even more so than before, and quickly redeemed herself, proving her talent and skill in the new season at her club before helping the national team win the Gold Cup just a year later.
Quinn had been a known leader, both on and off the field and had proved herself to be when she had became captain of her club at the age of twenty-three, so it had been no shock to anyone when Holly had named her to be the captain of the national team, at only twenty-five, after the previous one went into retirement..
Sure, there were still people that still had their doubts about her and a team with a new leader but they were all quickly proven wrong once the blonde had led the team through the first round of qualifying unbeaten.
When Brittany first arrived at the training camp she hadn't been surprised at how good Quinn actually was, having played against her multiple times in the National League and even from an opponents point of view, she could see how well Quinn communicates and pushes her teammates. She also never blamed them for mistakes.
Brittany had just only just turned eight-teen when she first played against Quinn. In fact it was then when she had played her first game for her senior club, sure she had lost but after the final whistle had blown Quinn had came over to her to tell her that if kept playing how she did then she would have a pretty great career ahead of her before asking to trade jerseys which Brittany happily accepted.
(It's now framed in her apartment.)
And as she is about most things, Quinn was right.
After only making her debut just four years before, Brittany had made some impressive achievements at Chicago City, winning the golden glove the previous season as well as breaking the record for having the most consecutive clean sheets in the league.
But, no matter her success, she had noticed that there were always people who were against her, people who didn't want her to succeed and weren't confident in what she did. It was something she had gotten used to and had never let anyone get to her.
Until it came from Santana.
Growing up her parents wouldn't allow her to play outside on her own and with being the only girl under the age of thirteen on her block and with no siblings and all her cousins living across country, there weren't many options for her to play with. But, instead of playing at home by herself, Brittany had made it her mission to make friends with the boys that lived down the street.
After putting on her giraffe wellies and matching beanie, a seven-year-old Brittany made her way over to a small area of grass a few doors down from her house and interrupted what seemed to be an absolute shit-show game of soccer.
At least she thought it was soccer. It was definitely a soccer ball. Except there weren't 2 teams. In fact she didn't even think they were playing with any rules. It was just 4 boys covered in mud chasing a slightly deflated ball.
It didn't exactly look fun but Brittany didn't care, she just wanted to make friends. So she pulled her beanie past her ears and asked if she could join only to be given a look of disgust, as if she had just stolen one of their cats.
Something she had been contemplating.
But she quickly took the hint and slumped off home, praying that her mom would feel bad for her and finally buy her a cat.
She didn't.
Instead she talked to the boys' moms so that they would tell them to let her play with them.
At least that's Brittany's theory. Her mom still won't tell her the truth.
Sure enough the next day the boys came over to her house asking if she wanted to play. Of course she said yes but after many attempts of trying and failing to get them to play anything other than soccer she was told to stand in the "goal" which was just made up of two hoodies.
It was the first time she became a goalkeeper. Actually it was the first time she had even touched a soccer ball and even though she was sure that they only made her be in goal was because she was a girl and they just wanted her to keep out of the way. Not because she was freakishly tall for a seven-year-old like they had told her.
She didn't complain about it. In fact, she embraced it and after a half hour of having a ball kicked at her, she had fallen in love.
With soccer.
Not one of the boys.
(Although she did date one of them in middle school which didn't end that well.)
She wasn't surprised when they asked her again to play the next day, or the day after that. She played with them everyday. Well, that is until 2 weeks later when they grew bored of the sport and moved onto football. Something Brittany definitely wanted no part in so she stopped playing out with them and went back to playing by herself and begging her mom for a cat and after a day and a half of begging and a shameful amount of crying, her mom decided that the only solution was to not get a cat, disappointing she knows, but for Brittany to join the local kids soccer team. Something Brittany didn't even know existed.
She had joined the team a few days later and even though she had to give up her Sunday morning dance class for it, it was something she had never regretted.
For many kids there it was something that they never took seriously. Something that they went to just so their parents didn't have to deal with them for 2 hours. But for Brittany it was something that had quickly become her entire life, from having practice and playing games to watching it on TV.
During her time playing at Chicago Bulls Under 11 Girls she had decided to stick to the position of a goalkeeper that she had grown to love, even more so when people weren't purposely trying to kick the ball in her face.
However, it was when she was twelve when shit started to get real, when she realized that playing wasn't just a hobby that consumed her life but rather something that could be her future.
She had been playing in a local tournament when she was scouted. The league club had been out to games all around the city wanting to expand their academy and soon enough Brittany became a member of Chicago City FC's youth team.
The team that she had loved.
The team that she still loves.
The team that she still plays for.
Even after twelve years at the club she's still obsessed with it. She's proud of how far she's come. She had played in the youth team until she was eighteen when her coach took a risk and gave her her first start in the senior team which she then became a permanent player and although for the first two years she had spent most of her time of the subs bench, she remained patient and soon enough she became Chicago City's starting goalkeeper for every game.
Last season her team had reached the NWSL Championship final while also coming second in the league as well as winning the NWSL Challenge Cup, the same cup that they're in favor of winning again this season.
But she hadn't just been successful at her club. She had also been an important player in the USA's youth team.
It's one of the reasons why Holly had given her her first call up to the senior US squad.
Well that and because Holly's usual go-to keeper broke her wrist before the start of the season, most likely missing out on the rest of the international games for the year and Holly had yet to find a suitable player that she wanted to make her new number one, something that Brittany had always dreamed of being.
Except dreams aren't always as great as people want them to be.
Especially when the dream means you're stuck with the world's biggest pain in the ass.
It doesn't take long until steam fills the locker room as her teammates shower off the sweat and dirt collected from the day's work.
She can hear the giggles and the bang of a shower gel bottle being dropped every so often. But she remains seated, the numbing feeling of where the cold metal bench touches her burning thighs.
She hates this part. The feeling after practice or a game. The feeling that she hasn't done enough. That she underperformed and even though her body feels like it's on fire and her cleats are most likely stuck to her feet, she still feels like she's not done.
Taking her hair out of her now messy ponytail, she stands on shaky legs to grab her bag from the locker behind her, her initial plans of having a relaxing evening before the game tomorrow are gone and instead she grabs the finger tape from the front pocket of her bag and begins rewrapping her fingers what what feels like the millionth time.
She's in the middle of ripping the tape with her teeth when she hears the sounds of cleats tapping against the hard flooring behind her, but Brittany doesn't need to turn around to know who it is. She knows that no matter how much Santana can run she'll still smell like her coconut body spray.
(She can also remember Holly calling over the brunette after the rest of the team left the field.)
Brittany's not even sure Santana knows that she's not alone. Either that or she just doesn't care as she tears the sweaty practice jersey from her body and throws it towards her stuff, making her bag fall from the bench to the floor, making the blonde jump.
But Brittany remains focused on the tape, taking longer than usual so that she doesn't have to move, so that Santana will continue to ignore her as she mumbles to herself, cursing everytime she shoves something back into her bag only for it to fall out again.
Except the keeper can only waste so much time wrapping her fingers before it starts to affect her circulation, before she has to move to re-do her ponytail, which also means that the silence that she was trying so hard to continue ends as she drops the hairbrush, the noise making Santana give her a look. A look that Brittany can only assume that it will either lead with an apology or a cleat to the head.
(Again.)
(Santana still claims that she was aiming for Quinn.)
Fortunately for Brittany she had fast reflexes because if it's one thing about Santana that everyone knows, it's that she doesn't say sorry and even if some miracle she did, it's too late because by the time she opens her mouth, the silence is replaced the shouts and laughs of Quinn and a few other players emerging from the showers, giggling over Tina falling on her ass in the shower.
Noticing that Santana's attention has focused on the laces of her cleats, Brittany realizes that Santana's not going to say anything in front of the team, so she joins in with her teammates, laughing harder when Tina returns to the locker room with a red face holding her ass.
"It's not funny!" The defender laughs, blushing when the captain gives her a hug before reminding the team about earlier in the day when Alex fell off a treadmill, moving their laughter off of Tina.
Brittany can't help but notice the way Quinn's smile changes to a smirk as she moves towards Santana, the brunette still sitting on the bench without a shirt with a scowl now directed at the other blonde.
She knew that her captain and the brunette had some sort of past. That they knew each other before they arrived at the camp and yet for some reason it was rare that the two were together without arguing about how much of a bitch Santana was or that how Quinn had a stick in her ass. She has no idea why or how it got up there but all she did know was that it was probably painful and that whatever happened between the two most likely didn't end well.
Except Quinn's attention isn't just on Santana, it's on her too and she can feel her cheeks heat up as the captain stares at her before her attention returns to Santana once again.
"Oh, please do not tell me you're waiting for the rest of us to leave so that you two can shower together." Quinn hisses to Santana, unaware that anyone else is paying attention until Santana shoves her while telling her to go fuck herself.
Brittany ignores Quinn's laughter, choosing to pretend she didn't hear anything because she doesn't want to argue with anyone, although she also really wants to tell Quinn to go fuck herself since, not only is Santana the last person she want's to be alone with because she likes not being murdered but also because no matter how many times she uses locker room showers they will never fail to gross her out.
It seems that Santana also ignores the snickering coming from the other blonde, grabbing a towel from her bag, which seems to be the only thing that didn't land on the floor earlier, and makes her way through the locker room headed towards the showers, lightly pushing Tina on the way past.
But just when Brittany thinks she's finally free from the brunette's comments for the day, she turns around, her signature smirk plastered on her face and laughs, "Q! She wishes."
It hurts. As much as she wished it didn't, it really hurts. She doesn't care that Santana doesn't want to sleep with her, or even be friends with her. Brittany knew when she arrived that it wouldn't be easy, she knew that Santana hated her, and sure Brittany may also have some not nice feelings about her but after everything she still respected the midfielder, she had known what Santana had been through in her career and as a player, Brittany admired her and she wished Santana would respect her too.
She knows she can't dwell on it, she can't let the way Santana is treating her get to her head, all she can do is prove her wrong, to show that she deserves to be in the squad, so she grabs her gloves and water bottle and makes her way towards the door. She's about to push the door open when she hears her name being called. Turning, she sees Quinn making her way towards her, a genuine smile on her face, the red practice kit switched for a yellow summer dress that looks way too formal for someone to be wearing after a 2 hour practice. Brittany usually exchanges her kit for sweatpants and an old jersey that is way less sweaty before laying on her couch with her cat and refuses to move for the rest of the day. Or until her cat gets hungry and tries to eat her.
"You're going back out?" She questions, taking in the fact that the keeper has still yet to remove the jersey that is slowly sticking to her skin
"Yeah," Brittany nods, "Can never have too much practice, plus coach said I could use one of the ball launchers."
"By yourself?"
"No, she said one of the assistants is gonna come join me."
"Okay, well we're gonna go hang out in the hotel bar and you're more than welcome to join us."
Hang out? In a hotel bar? With alcohol? Like, the entire team are gonna get drunk and therefore hungover? Wasn't the first game tomorrow? And isn't Quinn the captain? Shouldn't she be the one making everyone stay away from bars and have everyone have a curfew?
"We're not drinking!" She reassures, taking in the concerned look on Brittany's face, "We're just getting food, maybe a few mocktails, there will be absolutely no alcohol involved. God, Coach would kill us, Hell, I would kill us." She laughs, making the other blonde laugh too, although she wouldn't exactly put it past either Holly or Quinn to literally murder someone for turning up to a game with even remotely a drop of alcohol in their system. "I just think it'll be good for all of us to be together before this whole thing officially starts. I mean we're only gonna be together for 2 weeks before we go back, might as well get to be together while we can. Plus, it gives us a chance to actually get to know you."
She understands why Quinn wants this. She can already start to feel the tension around the team and the coaching staff, how if things don't go well for the team over the next 14 games then the team won't be competing in the World Cup next June, something that Brittany has wanted to do her entire life.
Sure, maybe hanging out in a hotel bar won't help you win, but she knows that it'll help the team relax a little and if she's learnt anything from being in a team since she was young, it's that the better relationships you have with your teammates, the better you play with them on the field.
And she wants to make friends, to build actual friendships and not to be known as the new kid who likely only got a call up after a lack of inform American keepers due to injuries and early retirements.
She wants to go.
But she also wants to succeed, to not let the team down from poor performances because she doesn't feel confident in herself.
Therefore, she gives her captain a small smile before politely declining her offer, telling her that if she's not too tired she's happy to meet up with everyone later. Quinn nods in understanding, walking back over to Tina, the defender waiting with both her and the blonde's bag on her shoulder.
"Pierce!" The captain shouts once more, "Don't overwork yourself, okay? Because if you injure yourself before you've even made your debut then I really will murder you, understood?" She warns, giving the other blonde a pointed look, but Brittany can tell that she's just looking out for her.
"Understood, Captain." She nods, making her way out of the locker room.
"Ugh, crap!" She groans, rubbing her face before flicking the power switch of the ball launcher once more.
Nothing.
"Come on!" Brittany shouts, giving the machine yet another hard earned kick, hoping that's the magic kick that actually gets it to work.
It's not.
She just hopes Matt, the goalkeeper coach, hurries up before she breaks a toe.
Going back to the power switch she repeatedly flicks it up and down, slapping the machine every few seconds, completely oblivious to the Latina making her way onto the field.
That is until she hears a laugh
"It's not funny." The blonde huffs, turning to face a freshly showered brunette wearing a navy Team USA sweatshirt and leggings.
"Oh, it's hilarious." Santana giggles, something Brittany didn't even know she was capable of, "I didn't think it would take longer than ten minutes for you to realize that you got the one that's busted. I also didn't expect you to have an actual fight with it. Which you lost by the way.
"Y-you were watching me?" She stutters, watching Santana nod with that devilish smirk still on her face, which is starting to piss Brittany off, "And you didn't think to tell me that it wasn't gonna turn on?"
"What? And ruin the best entertainment I've had since I got here? No way." She snickers, placing her bag on the grass, "Plus I thought you would've figured it out on your own after the first time you tried to turn it on and failed."
She doesn't bite back, instead giving the brunette an eye roll and the machine another kick.
"And I thought I had anger issues."
"I don't have anger issues," The blonde argues, bending down to pick her gloves up, "Everything's just pissing me off."
"So, anger issues?" Santana smirks, making the keeper roll her eyes again, "Why are you out here anyway? You don't wanna come hang out with us?"
Brittany can't help but notice the obvious sarcasm, she knows that Santana would prefer if she's not there. In fact she'd be surprised if Santana actually went whether she was there or not.
"I just wanna practice some more for a bit before I head back to the hotel, I'll just have to wait for Matt since the damn launcher doesn't work." Brittany explains, hitting the machine once more, for good luck.
"Britt, it's not gonna work." The nickname makes her eyebrows furrow, not hearing it come out the mouth of the brunette in a long time, hell, Santana hadn't even called her by her actual name in even longer. "Also Matt's not coming."
"What?"
"Yeah, he had to go to a meeting or something, he told me to tell you."
"Oh."
"Yeah, oh."
"Well can you help me bring the robot back inside?" She sighs, "It's heavy."
"So you're just gonna go back?" Santana asks, her arms folded against her chest.
"I can't exactly practice by myself."
"You're not by yourself?"
"What?"
"You have me." Brittany doesn't respond, her eyes focusing on her cleat scraping against the grass, making the brunette scoff, "Don't get all shy, Pierce. I mean I'll practice with you."
It's weird to Brittany. She doesn't understand how someone could be so complicated. Not even an hour ago Santana was saying mean things to her and now she's calling her nicknames and offering to help her out? Brittany also thinks she's just broken her record for the longest time gone without glaring at the blonde. In fact she would be surprised if it was all an act, that Santana probably unplugged the ball launcher before she got the chance to turn it on and then lied about it being broken just so that she could shove her in and send her back to Chicago.
"Oh, don't give me that look," Santana huffs, "As much as I don't like you, I know that I have no other choice than to play with you. Plus, I wanna practice some more too."
"You need it." Brittany accidentally mutters, she didn't mean to say it and judging by the look or hurt and anger on Santana's face, it was loud enough for her to hear, instantly making Brittany feel bad and if she thought Santana wanted to murder her before, she definitely does now.
It's silent for the first ten minutes.
It's not awkward though, in fact all the tension between the two disappeared the second Santana took her first shot.
They didn't need to discuss what training they would do, they just fell into a routine. Santana would take a shot while Brittany would save it.
Sometimes.
Santana manages to get the ball into the back of the net alot more than Brittany hoped she would, she's not surprised though, she knows from watching her play that Santana is a good shot, that most of her goals come from outside the box and although Brittany is a good shot-stopper, she has more chance of getting her cat to stick to his diet then saving anything from one of Santana's power shots.
But for the main part, Brittany gets in a fair amount of saves, mainly from the brunettes shots from point blank range, something that the keeper quickly discovered were Santana's weaknesses.
Sure enough there's other times where Brittany doesn't even have to try, when Santana misses the target completely and all Brittany can do is watch as Santana kicks the floor in frustration.
Brittany flinches at the sound of the ball crashing against the fence behind her, the noise canceling out Santana's curses to herself as she walks over to grab another ball.
She takes a shot, this time from the edge of the box. The ball flies towards the top corner, making the blonde stretch her arm out to punch it away, unable to catch it, and sure enough, Santana is right there ready for the rebound, kicking the ball with her weaker foot and despite the fact Brittany hasn't made it up off of the floor, she still misses.
"Fuck!" She shouts, kicking the post.
It's not until she shoots once more while the keeper takes a drink from her water bottle when Brittany realizes that maybe it's not just herself that Santana is frustrated with.
"You could at least wait until I get back on my line." Brittany grumbles, rolling the ball back to her, to which she just shoots straight over the crossbar.
"You need to be less selfish when you play!" Santana snaps, walking over to another ball.
"Me? How am I being selfish? It's not like I'm making you miss."
"Earlier in practice. You never passed to me." She huffs, kicking the ball only for it to land safely in the hands of the keeper, "I was open and I know we're not exactly friends but when it comes to shit like that it shouldn't matter, we're supposed to be a team."
"Oh, so now you wanna be a team. What about when you got pissed at me for conceding?" Brittany argues, kicking the ball out of the box.
"That's different."
"Yeah? How?"
"You made a mistake and the entire team had to pay for it."
She shoots.
"Don't we all make mistakes?"
She scores.
"Fuck." Brittany whispers to herself, her breathing heavy, "Also I didn't exactly see you get pissed at anyone else, we do have defenders for a reason y'know?. Or is it just me you have the problem with? Besides, weren't you the one that lost the ball in the first place because you refused to make a pass?"
She shoots.
"It's not the same."
She scores again.
"How?"
"I was trying to score and I was tackled. It's normal. You were the only person that didn't even try and stop them from scoring." She scolds, "Because you were too busy staring at me."
She shoots.
"And you were glaring at me."
Brittany saves it.
With her face.
"Fuck!" She yelps, holding her nose.
"Sorry! Santana shouts, shooting again as the blonde sits on the floor,the ball landing in the top corner.
"Are you fucking serious?" Brittany snaps, removing her hands from her face, relieved that there's no blood.
"It was an accident!" She argues back, finally running towards the girl on the floor, her hand outstretched offering help up which Brittany accepts, "You're allowed to use your hands y'know."
Brittany just glares, trying her best to not smack the smirk off her face
"Come on, Pierce. I think we've had enough bonding time for one day." Santana jokes, walking to collect the rogue balls from around the goal.
The blonde nods, holding her water bottle to her nose, the cold helping with the throbbing, "Maybe even a lifetime."
The sun's starting to set by the time they finally make it out of the training camp. Brittany's finally showered and her jersey that she practically had to peel off, now swapped for the same navy sweatshirt the brunette walking in front of her has on. Her shorts replaced with sweats and her hands eventually free from the layers of tape and gloves.
Santana doesn't say anything as she walks to the opposite end of the parking lot. Not even a goodbye. Not that Brittany expected her too, after they spent the remainder of the time in the locker room in silence.
"Lopez" Brittany calls from across the parking lot, making Santana look up from where she was putting her bag in the trunk of her car, "They were all over you."
"What the fuck are you talking about, Pierce?"
"Why I never passed to you? They were all over you, everytime you got the ball they were onto you. Especially Alex, I watched her, she never took her eyes off you, she knows what you're capable of and she would stop you, because you weren't paying attention to anyone around you."
"Oh."
"Yeah, oh. It wasn't me being the selfish one, Santana." She concludes, watching the brunette purse her lips, her arms crossed against her chest, "Every time I got the ball you would run to the other end and sure I could've passed to you, but you would have just lost the ball. Look, I get that you wanna score and prove yourself to everyone but you should change up the plan every once and a while, maybe even make a pass for once in your life. Everyone knows what kind of runs you make and they know how to stop you."
"I don't have to prove anything to anybody." She fumes, slamming the trunk of her car before storming over.
"Are you sure? Because from what I've seen over the past 3 days, you're trying to prove something to someone and I don't know if it's to the team or yourself but it's not helping anyone.
"How dare you!" She hisses, her finger pointing at the blonde's chest, "You think you know me? You don't know shit, Pierce, so how about you stop your little assumptions and go fuck youself.
Brittany's never seen Santana so angry and even though she's scared that Santana is either gonna hit her or the little vein in her forehead will pop from anger, she shoves the finger away, "Look Santana, I've seen how you play, or at least how you used to play. You're one of the best I've seen and I'm honored to play with you, but you need to get out of your own ass, you're too busy focusing on yourself. Maybe you should go back to being that unstoppable playmaker who passes to players that can actually hit a target instead of trying to take on everything on your own only for you to end up on your ass. You're just setting yourself up for failure. Something I'm sure that you're used to by now."
It's harsh, she knows that and sure she feels her stomach sink a little as she watches a tear slide down Santana's cheek but she also knows that it's something that Santana needs to hear, no matter how much it hurts.
"You done?"
Brittany nods.
"Good. You don't know shit. She sneers, storming off to get in her car, before slamming the door shut, the loud bang making Brittany jump as she makes her way to her own car. The sound of Santana's exhaust ringing in her ears as she watches her drive out the lot and down the road that leads to the hotel.
She should have taken Quinn up on her offer.
She can't sleep.
No matter how many sheep she counts, her mind doesn't shut off.
Rolling over, she stares at the hotel alarm clock once again, hoping that somehow she's magically gone back in time to a point where she doesn't have to wake up in 6 hours. The last thing she needs is to pass out from exhaustion in the middle of her first game. She closes her eyes once more, ignoring the butterflies in her stomach as she pulls the duvet over her head, letting the darkness surround her.
She relaxes her mind, tries to think of things that usually make her fall asleep, except nothing works, not pretending she's back in school or one of them cooking shows. Instead her mind has decided to pay everything that has ever happened for her to get to where she is now.
Brittany remembers everything, like when her mom bought her first ever pair of goalkeeper gloves when she was 8 and even though they were twice the size of her actual hand, she refused to take them off for 4 days, even in the shower. She can still feel the pain in her wrist when she broke it at thirteen making her miss out on her first tournament.
What stands out the most was when she made her first senior debut for her club at eighteen, sure she loved playing for the juniors but there was just something about playing for Chicago City's main team that always made her heart race. It was a pointless game, the last game of the season, it didn't matter if they won or lost, Chicago City had already secured the top spot so their coach decided to play some of the youth academy, Brittany being one of them.
It ended in defeat of course, losing 1-0. Yet, Brittany didn't care, she loved every second. But, it wasn't until halfway through the season after that she became a regular starter after their usual keeper got injured. It was hard, she was proving herself in games, coming third in the league with the least amount of goals conceded, yet Brittany knew that it would come to an end, that she was just a backup keeper and as soon as their first would return she would go back to the bench.
Except she never.
The following season she was given the number 1 after news broke out that the previous one had moved clubs.
Her career wasn't always perfect as she hoped, like when her team got to the finals of the Giant's Cup for the first time in over 5 years just to lose in stoppage time due to a mistake she made, or that time they lost the Chicago derby because she scored an own goal. She didn't leave her house for a week after.
She thinks about all the attention she's gotten over the years, the support from her friends, family and fans and the not so supportive from others
Except, no matter what moment in her career Brittany thinks of, her mind always goes back to the same thing.
Santana Lopez.
She thinks about the first time they met, the time they played against each other in the league. Brittany remembers how anxious she was when she found out that Santana would also be joining her on international duty. She remembers the butterflies she had when she saw the Latina for the first time in what seemed like forever when they both arrived at the hotel check-in desk at the same time, her dimples showing as she laughed at Holly only for them to disappear as soon as she saw the blonde.
She thinks about today.
The way the brunette shoulder checked her in the dining hall at breakfast or when she shut the door of the locker room on her face knowing that Brittany was right behind her. The constant scowls and the way she always tries to put her down. She remembers the look in Santana's face after she kicked the ball in her face, of course it was an accident but Brittany also couldn't help but notice that she enjoyed seeing her in pain.
She thinks about the way Santana looked when Brittany made her cry. The way she looked so small and unsure of herself, the way her brown eyes looked so sad and empty.
But the memory that replays the most isn't something that happened when she was a kid or on the field.
It's not a memory that's good or bad.
She's not really sure what it was.
Or why it happened.
All she knows is that it's what led her to right now. The reason why she can't sleep, to why she can't switch her mind off.
The reason why there's currently an arm laying over her naked stomach, belonging to an equally naked Santana Lopez.