4.
There was an awful universe crunching silence as the two Brittanys sat together under the bleachers waiting for Santana's inevitably furious arrival.
"Are you sure it didn't work?" Teen Brittany pleaded.
"What didn't work?"
"The time machine. I promised I would come back and tell myself it worked."
"Oh. I guess, it might have worked a bit." Brittany looked around nervously as though expecting Santana to pop out at any second and catch her in the act of breaking the absolute biggest time travel law ever invented, ever. "Don't you have to be in class or something? Cos I'm pretty sure you shouldn't be here when Santana gets here, and you're kind of freaking me out."
"I have Glee now. Its okay, I don't mind missing it. I don't really want to hear Rachel and Mr Schue talk about themselves or see people annoy Santana."
Brittany tilted her head in a small shrug. Yeah, that was totally understandable.
"If we started a band we could be called 'The Brittanys", Cheerio Britt mused before switching tack again. "What about your Santana? I mean she's still my Santana as well, I guess." Her eyes seemed to sparkle at the idea that she and Santana were apparently still together in the future. "They must be the same person but at a different stage of their lifecycle. Like, my Santana is a little frog that's just about to lose its tail and yours is a big momma frog who crushes insect with her tongue."
Brittany gaped openly at her younger self. Was she ever really that young and chirpy? She began to fidget nervously at the thought of her oncoming wife.
"You really shouldn't be here when she gets here, she's gonna be mad."
"Pfff, I can handle mad Santana. And anyway, I want to see her! Is she hot?"
Brittany raised a disbelieving eyebrow and teen Brittany grinned and then giggled. "That was silly. I know, she's hot. I have to stay, she's bringing me a slushy. It'd be rude to go."
Brittany leaned over as though she were about to impart a huge mysterious secret only someone from the future could know. Teen Brittany leaned in eagerly to listen closer.
"She gets hotter as she gets older."
"I knew it!" Cheerio Brittany slapped her thigh and crowed with glee to Brittany's amusement. "Wait though, is that even possible?"
"That, is the absolute truth."
The Brittanys beamed at each other in mutual appreciation of their Santanas.
"Sooooo," the teenager asked coyly, shuffling her sneaker in the dry dirt. "You're still together then?"
"Shhh, stoppit. I'm not allowed to tell you stuff."
"Nice wedding ring."
"Aww shoot."
Meanwhile, in Glee Club.
As the Schuester droned on and Rachel tried to butt in as often as possible, Sugar gazed dreamily off into space pondering the problems of quantum mechanics and how to build a time machine without giving herself away. A glimpse of a woman striding past the doorway with what looked like two slushy cups in her hands made Sugar sit up straight. The woman looked over to peer into the choir room and their eyes met. Sugar's jaw dropped open in shock.
Santana slapped Sugar on the leg to get her attention and when she looked up again her mother was gone.
"What's up? This is your shot, didn't you want to perform this week?"
The blood drained from her face and she gripped tightly to the sides of her chair, white as a sheet. Her muscles locked in place but her body shook slightly with anxiety
"Sugar?" Quinn asked softly. "Sugar, what's wrong? Are you okay?"
Sugar scrunched her eyes up as Quinn worriedly ran a soothing hand along her arm. Santana was eyeing her as though she were a bomb about to explode. "Did you eat the mystery meat at lunch?" She asked with suspicion.
Sugar didn't move and when Mercedes looked up at Santana, worry evident all over her face Santana sat down on the other side of the obviously distraught girl and spoke softly in her ear.
"Sugar, it's okay. You're okay, you're in the choir room. Nothing is gonna happen, just remember to breathe."
To her horror this had the effect of causing Sugar to burst into tears and bury her face in Santana's shoulder. Oh God, Santana sighed, why wasn't Brittany here to deal with this sort of thing?
"I just saw my mom," Sugar choked back another sob. "In school."
"Uh, have you done something wrong?"
There was no answer.
"I'm sure nothing's wrong, she's probably here to tell you you've won the lottery or something," Mercedes offered, non helpfully.
"No, that's not it. I think I'm happy to see her."
Quinn and Mercedes exchanged puzzled glances.
"Brittany's mom came to school one time but that was because she forgot her Cheerio skirt," Santana told Sugar as she tried to calm the girl. "That was a good day," she smirked at the memory. To her surprise it made Sugar giggle. "Do you want us to distract her, head her off?" Santana asked helpfully, not quite believing Sugar wasn't in trouble. She sure seemed to have a reason she didn't want her mom to see her.
"NO!"
"Whoa there, okay! I was only trying to help."
Sugar took a shaky sigh. "I had a fight with her and stole the car and I think she's found out."
"You stole your mom's car and drove it to school? That's so lame." Santana was distinctly unimpressed. "Of all the places you could have gone, you went to school!"
Sugar couldn't help but giggle. "That's good to know, if you could just remember that twenty years from now, it'd be appreciated."
"What was the fight about?"
"I told my mom I was quitting school to seek fame and fortune as a singer. She said no, but she's just jealous cos I'm a way better singer than her." A dark head bobbed past the door and Sugar jumped suddenly and shuffled her chair closer to Santana. "Can I hang with you and Britt today?"
Quinn and Mercedes stared open mouthed as Santana granted her wish without protest. "Uh, sure? I'm sure Britt wont mind," Santana nodded.
Sugar smiled happily. Double awesome. Her mom wouldn't come near her she was safe with her younger self.
"Where is Brittany?" Mercedes asked. "I thought you two were surgically attached at the lips."
"Presidential business. Top secret." Santana shrugged.
Adult Santana scrambled hurriedly under the bleachers where she had left Brittany almost an hour ago. What? It was hard being all stealth around a high school bursting at the seams with snotty, spotty teenagers.
"Britt! I saw her," she gasped breathing heavily as she tried to crawl in without spilling any slushy. She was so focused on her task she hadn't even noticed they had company. "She was in the choir-AARRRRRRRRGGGGHHGHHHHHH!"
Santana's hands flew up into the air reaching shoulder height before the sudden movement caused the blue slushy mixtures to fly up and out of the cups landing straight in her face. Still holding onto the cups with a death grip, Santana gasped with tri-shock.
1 - Stinging corn syrup in the eyeballs.
2 - Ice cold ice chips running down the valley of her breasts, and,
3 - Brittany in a cheerios uniform. Brittany. 18 year old Brittany in a cheerios uniform. Brittany. Sitting next to Brittany. Brittany Brittany. The Brittanys.
"Oh god, B! What did I tell you?" Santana shouted blindly, trying to frantically blink slushy out of her eyes.
"Um," Brittany looked around for inspiration trying to remember. "Oh, I know. You said - Don't touch that couch, it's probably crawling with STD's!"
Santana stopped flailing her arms wildly around as she felt someone wipe her face with some cloth removing the ice from her vision. She opened an eye to see Brittany gently cleaning her face with her sleeve as though she were a grubby toddler, and Cheerio Brittany staring unabashedly at her over her wife's shoulder.
"You're so hot," teen Brittany gazed adoringly at the grown up version of her Santana.
Santana gulped and shifted awkwardly to hide further behind her wife who grinned in turn.
"I know, right? Even with slushy on."
"What is she doing here?" Santana whispered harshly. "I told you this could never happen."
"I told you over the walkie talkie what had happened. What did you think I meant?"
"I thought Lord Tubbington had gotten in the cafeteria!"
"Oh, no, that hasn't happened yet. I was trying to get Sugar's attention but she," Brittany indicated to the girl behind her with a nod of her head, "heard me instead."
"Why are we whispering?" Cheerio Brittany whispered.
"Oh crap," Santana shuddered. "It's gone down my back now. Oh, eew."
"You need to go to the bathroom and get cleaned up," Brittany had done all she could with her sleeve.
"I'll take you," Teen Brittany piped up with a cheeky grin. "It'll be okay. No one will recognise you covered in slushy."
"Oh dear God, no," Santana gasped and wrapped her arms around Brittany's waist. "Don't leave me with her, Britt," she hissed.
"It's okay, honey. Don't worry," she kissed her wife on the nose and unclamped Santana's hands which were locked in a vice-like grip from her body. "And you," she spoke to teenage Brittany. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
"What?" Santana squeaked in horror as Brittany, in a very short skirt... damn, she had forgotten how short those cheerios skirts were, licked her lips and scooted closer. She ran a finger down Santana's jacket lapel and licked the blue ice off her finger.
"Let's get you cleaned up." she murmured with a coy smile.
"Oh my god," Santana moaned as Brittany led her away, her wife waving goodbye to her cheerily.
Santana jumped through the doors to the bathroom as though she'd had an electric shock from the door handle. She was certain she had felt teen Brittany's hand run from where she had been guiding her with a palm gently resting on her shoulder blades, to find it suddenly down at the curve of her back and getting dangerously lower.
"Okay, no. You know, just no, stop that. I'm an adult and you're like, a kid."
"I'm 18," Cheerio Brittany purred.
"And you're practically the same age as my daughter," Santana stuttered out, to her eternal shame, she could not be seen letting this get to her.
"My daughter too," teen Brittany smirked.
"No, just no, but whatever. I'm serious. Don't smirk at me like that Brittany Pierce! I know exactly what you're think-mmmmphh!"
Cheerio Brittany threw herself at Santana and crashed their lips together. Santana was still struggling to see through the stinging corn syrup and froze at the contact, helpless as the girl's tongue eagerly attacked her lips trying to force them apart. Neither of them noticed the door from the hall open and were unaware of anyone else being in the room with them, until.
"Get the fuck away from my girlfriend!"
Teenage Santana, clad in her red Cheerios uniform, spluttered with rage as she stormed up to them. Her face was a picture as it turned from fury to disbelief as she pulled her girlfriend away from where she was attempting to relieve Santana of her leather jacket.
As she got a closer glimpse of who Brittany was trying to wrap her legs around, all that came out of her mouth was a high pitched "Whuuuuh?" as she began to process an older, and decidedly super hot, version of herself.
"Lookit how hot you are," Brittany let out a deep, lovesick sigh. "You're gonna get so lucky, I mean, I'm so lucky. I mean..." She fluttered her eyelashes at Santana and turned to give a sultry smile to her own personal Santana. "I had a dream like this once," she giggled.
Santana turned her dazed expression from her younger self to Cheerio Brittany and back again. "There's a very good explanation for this."
Teenage Santana's eyes begged for an epic revelation of a good explanation. Somewhat guiltily, Santana turned to the sink and wet the paper towels she found on the side before she had been thoroughly jumped on, wiping corn slush from her face, neck, and she could swear she heard a strangled sigh as she tried to discreetly wipe at her cleavage. "It's all Brittany's fault."
Cheerio Santana turned and tugged teen Brittany's elbow to catch her attention. With a happy half lidded smirk Brittany reached her arms around 'her' Santana's shoulders and kissed her.
Santana backed out of the bathroom in alarm as the two teenagers fell through the door of a deserted stall and someone got slammed up against the wall with a thud. Damn, did she really used to be like that? Someone was getting lucky today.
The door slammed shut behind her as she legged it back to the bleachers where her wife was waiting for her.