Brittany and Santana are two halves of one whole. They belong together. Brittany doesn't use the word love, because it's already implied, and it will make Santana uncomfortable. Brittany and Santana are a Black and white cookie. When everyone looks at them they see black and white, dark and light, happy and bitchy. When they kiss it's that strange, but not unwelcome mixture of waxy red lipstick, and root beer flavored lip smackers. The devil in a red dress and the angel in baby pink. Brittany knows they are wrong. They lie together on the deep burgundy sheets of Santana's bed, Brittany's eyes wander across the black walls, and plush dark carpet. It's so different from her own room, with floral wallpaper and honey colored wood floorboards. But Brittany is not the white or the black part of the cookie. Brittany is the frosting.
Brittany is all abs and strength and power, hidden behind not quite but almost sickeningly sweet smiles and jokes. Brittany is the hard, but breakable frosting on top, that little kids pick off first, in pieces. Because you have to break Brittany to take her away from Santana. There's no other way she'd leave her.
And for all her words and threats and sultry looks, Santana is the cookie. She is soft, like smooth warm skin, and flushed lips and sweet nothings whispered in your ear. She is scared, and not as sweet as the frosting, but not as strong either. Sometimes she crumbles. Sometimes it's the frosting that keeps the cookie from falling apart if you're not careful.
"Santana, you and I are like two halves of a black and white cookie" Brittany says, suddenly, as the two girls lie, sprawled across Brittany's light purple bedspread, gluing Newspaper cut out letters and purple glitter onto a hundred thousand million posters that display proudly "Girls Run the World! Vote for Brittany S. Pierce, McKinley's next Star."
Santana stops what she's doing and smiles, first, as if she's trying to suppress the feeling, and then she turns to Brittany, and props herself up on her elbows. "I love you Brit."
Brittany discards her bottle of Elmer's glue on her bedside table. "Love you too."
And then there is smooth skin, warm hands against toned arms. And candy kisses are red, and black is the same as white and the same as black and so, so, beautiful as they crumble and collide.
-X-
When Santana hands Brittany the cookie the next day, the blonde insists on sharing. When Brittany breaks it in half Santana gently informs her that she broke it the wrong way, but Brittany shakes her head vehemently as the two walk down the hallway of McKinley, each munching on a piece of the pastry that is half and half. Black and white. Because it makes a difference.