Glee and all related characters and places are owned by Fox - I just make them dance for my own amusement.
This chapter is by far the longest yet, and was originally even longer than this. But after spending two days tweaking and editing it, I decided to hack part of it off and save it for the next chapter.
I also take no responsibility for any feels this particular chapter may induce.
~xxx~
The week passed with something resembling normality. As always, Brittany drove Santana to and from school, with the pair of them hanging out while Brittany spent time in the gym. Santana had resumed her usual club activities, if only to assure her friends that there was nothing unusual going on. It wasn't that she didn't want to spend time with them – she was hardly going to throw her oldest friends away because she had been dating Brittany for a week. But at the same time, she would have been lying had she said that time with the blonde wasn't more enjoyable.
She had gone over several different ways of revealing the relationship to her friends, but every single plan ended with them either not believing her, hating her for keeping it secret, or turning their backs on her because it was Brittany Pierce she was dating.
But despite her doubts, it was impossible not to smile every time she reminded herself that she and Brittany were actually dating. Santana was inexperienced, but she was far from naïve; she had experienced first-hand how cruel people could be, and she could just not find any evidence that Brittany wasn't being honest with her. It was a bizarre feeling, but every time the blonde shot her a wink when they passed in the corridors; every time she arrived just in time to divert Quinn Fabray's attention; every time she pulled her in for a firm kiss before dropping her off at home – it all made Santana feel more and more confident that this was something real.
~xxx~
On Friday, Santana had another rather unpleasant run-in with Quinn. Despite Brittany's increased presence around her, whether by chance or an attempt to keep it less obvious, the blonde couldn't always be there to stop Quinn. And so, just after lunch, Santana found her face once again covered in icy red mush. As she slowly made her way to the nearest girls' bathroom, the Latina mused that it was actually the first slushie of the week; that had to be a new record. But even as she began cleaning it from her face, she couldn't wash the mental image of Quinn Fabray's laughing face from her mind. Part of her almost wanted to just blurt out that she was dating Brittany; that'd be the easiest way to get the cheerleader off her back.
And an even smaller part of her just wanted to punch Quinn herself.
As she continued her familiar routine, Santana heard the door open. Before it closed, she was distinctly aware of the laughter still ringing from the corridor beyond. The brunette wondered if it was Quinn again, come to gloat – or just slushie her right away again. She was about to brace herself, when she caught sight of an entirely different blonde in the mirrors, and relaxed.
"Shit," Brittany muttered, moving over to her and frowning. "Guess I don't need to ask who did this?"
"Have a guess," Santana sighed, wiping across her forehead. Brittany just rolled her eyes and leant against the wall. Then, with an almost curious look, she reached forward and used her own finger to wipe at Santana's cheek, licking the slushie from it.
"Hm," she murmured. "You know, I think red is your color." Santana quirked an eyebrow. "But maybe not on your face."
"Is this the part where you make a joke about wanting to make me red in the face?" Santana asked, instantly regretting her sharp tone. But Brittany didn't seem to care.
"Nah, this is the part where I tell you that I'll see you in the gym," the blonde replied with a shrug, pushing away from the wall and heading back towards the door. "Catch you later, babe."
Santana was disappointed that Brittany had left so soon, but just getting the chance to talk to her again had lifted her spirits somewhat. A few moments later, she was as clean as she was going to get, and pulled her bag back over her shoulder. But just as Santana was about to reach the door, she heard a rather loud scream from the corridor, followed by a chorus of more laughter. She pushed the door open, and found a rather incredible sight before her.
Quinn Fabray, stood motionless in the corridor, with a blue slushie running down her back. Her ponytail was drenched, and the red of her Cheerios uniform was quickly turning a sickly shade of purple. Tearing her eyes away, Santana searched for the culprit, and was shocked to see Jacob Ben Israel stood a short distance away, an empty cup in his hand.
If Brittany had been there, she probably would have described him as 'shitting himself.'
And as if on cue, Santana caught sight of something. Further along the corridor, far beyond the crowd focussed on Quinn, was Brittany. With no more than a wink and a smile, she disappeared round the corner. Santana turned her attention back to Quinn, and flinched when she saw that the blonde was – rather than reacting to Jacob Ben Israel – staring daggers at her. She didn't say a word, but something in those green eyes was different. Santana clutched the strap of her bag tighter, and watched as Quinn finally rounded on Jacob.
"I…I didn't…" he stammered. "…she…she gave….she gave it to me after…I didn't…"
"You just made the biggest mistake of your miserable little life," Quinn spat. But for now, she seemed satisfied with pushing Santana out of the way and storming into the bathroom.
Santana felt for Jacob, but she found herself unable to disapprove of what Brittany had clearly done – Jacob, after all, had been the one to make sure the news of Santana's outing had spread like wildfire throughout the school.
Instead, she just made her way to lunch, unable to hide her smile as she pictured Quinn with slushie running down her neck.
~xxx~
The following Saturday, Santana made a point of getting up early. After being dropped off the previous afternoon with another cryptic 'See you tomorrow', Santana was determined to be ready for Brittany this time. Thankfully, her parents were again out for the day; after her mother's reaction to Brittany, Santana wasn't sure they were quite ready to deal with the blonde's demeanour quite yet.
This time, Santana was actually able to make herself presentable, given the extra time. After showering, she stared at herself in the mirror, wearing nothing but a towel. The brunette was still baffled that Brittany found her attractive; she just couldn't see it herself, and wondered if she should try to make herself any more presentable. She had tried wearing her hair up, but that had quickly been stopped after Quinn had grabbed her ponytail and told her to stop trying to look like a cheerleader. Ever since that threat, she hadn't so much as touched a hairband.
So maybe the glasses could go, she mused. She wasn't allergic to contacts, and one of the few features she had been complimented on were her eyes. But either way, that was hardly going to happen today. Instead, she headed back into her room and got dressed. Remembering Brittany's comment about red being her color, she made a point of hunting down whatever t-shirts she had that would work. Not exactly the sort of thing Brittany was probably referring to, but it was a start.
A short while later, she was sat in the living room, occasionally glancing to her phone to check on the time. Once again, Brittany had given her no idea of when she would be arriving, nor had she sent her any sort of message, and Santana was already growing restless. She was just about to turn the TV on, when she heard a noise from upstairs. It sounded like something falling over; as some of her models often did.
Not that she thought for a second that the sound had been caused by accident.
Santana hurried upstairs, pushing the door to her room open. The window was closed, but the curtains had definitely moved.
"You're standing behind the door, aren't you?" she asked, not even bothering to turn around.
"You're no fun," Brittany muttered, closing the door behind Santana, before stepping closer and wrapping her arms around the shorter girl's waist. "But you're still so hot." She placed a quick peck on Santana's ear, before resting her chin upon the brunette's shoulder. "Even hotter now you've got a bit of an attitude."
"I do not have an attitude," Santana snapped. "How else am I supposed to react to someone breaking into my house? Again?"
"I dunno, you could try waiting on the bed naked or something?" the blonde suggested. Cheeks burning, Santana disentangled herself and turned around. But as soon as her eyes met Brittany's, her irritation dissipated and she managed a small smile.
"So what's your excuse for using the window this time?" she asked. "And where's your car? I didn't see it on the drive."
"Parked down the street," Brittany replied. "Didn't know if your parents were in. And I went past one of those friends of yours; the one with the lips."
"Sam?" Santana asked. Brittany just shrugged.
"I think so" she said. "Didn't wanna risk him seeing me, so I kept going for a bit. You didn't invite him over, did you?"
"No," the brunette replied quickly. "No, why would I? I knew you were coming."
"Good," Brittany said, smiling again. "That guy needs to keep his hands off my girl."
"Thanks again," Santana said, desperate to keep talking to distract from her still-red cheeks. "For the Quinn thing."
"Don't mention it," Brittany replied, moving past the other girl and flopping onto the bed. "Actually I'm surprised you didn't give me a lecture for dropping Jewfro in it."
"If it had been anyone else, maybe," the Latina said, looking away for a moment. "But him…I'd find it very hard to feel really sorry for him…"
"You wanna talk about it?" the blonde asked, sitting up a little straighter. "I don't really know much about…you know…what happened to you. If you don't mind, I guess."
"I don't mind," Santana replied with a shrug. "There isn't much to tell, really. It's not that exciting, really."
"I wouldn't expect it to be," Brittany said, and Santana was distinctly aware that the taller girl's tone had become a little more serious. She sat beside the other girl, and instantly felt an arm around her waist. She smiled a little.
"I think I've always known," she began. "That I liked girls, that is. When I was watching those cartoons, I tried to tell myself that I always preferred the female characters because they were the only girls – you'd be amazed just how many have just one 'token female'." She chuckled and shook her head, letting out a quiet sigh. "But eventually I realised the truth. I told my parents first; they weren't even that surprised, really. Abuela was mad. Hasn't spoken to me since, actually, but…I guess there isn't much I can really do about that…"
Brittany tightened her hold around Santana's waist, and without prompting the brunette rested her head against the taller girl's shoulder.
"Then about a month later, I finally decided to tell my friends," she continued. "Artie and Nicole were fine with it, but Sam…" She sighed again. "He's always had a bit of a thing for me, I guess. He didn't react badly, he just…" She closed her eyes and shifted against the other girl slightly. "I went to talk to him at the end of the day. Told him I was sorry – can you believe that? I actually apologised for being gay. But…even though everything was cool between us, what we didn't realise is that one of Quinn's Cheerio friends was just round the corner. Heard the whole thing."
"How quickly did everyone find out?" Brittany asked, her voice still sombre.
"Next day," Santana replied simply. "As soon as I walked in, I knew. When everyone ignores you all the time, you kinda notice when suddenly they're all staring at you."
"How bad was it?"
"Not as bad as it could have been," the Latina said. She forced a smile, before letting out a harsh laugh. "Worse than I would have liked." She sat up, but made sure Brittany could keep her arm where it was. "I wasn't even really bullied any more than I already was. The only difference was the insults they used. Quinn Fabray had a field day with it…"
"I bet she did," Brittany muttered, once again tightening her hold.
"It's fine," Santana said, smiling again. "I made it to our final year, I'm not depressed, and…" Her smile widened. "…something happened that I never expected."
"Huh," Brittany replied, feigning ignorance. "Anything in particular?"
Feeling particularly bold, Santana scooted closer and placed a gentle kiss upon the blonde's cheek. "Nope, can't think of anything."
"Well now I'm hurt," Brittany replied, and before Santana knew what was happening, she was flat on her back, with the taller girl looming above her, tangled hair hanging down around them. "You're gonna have to make it up to me, Specs."
"I'm open to suggestions," the brunette said, staring up at the other girl with a mixture of surprise and excitement.
"Someone's feisty today," the blonde purred, leaning down so they were nose to nose. "Finally coming out of your shell?"
"Well with you it's more like being dragged out of it," Santana replied, earning a chuckle from the other girl.
"Well, while we're on the subject of dragging you out of things…"
Santana's heart rate instantly skyrocketed. She was pretty sure this wasn't going where she thought it was, but the mere suggestion was enough to set her senses on fire. She looked up into those bright eyes, lips slightly parted as her breathing became something of a pant.
And just when had Brittany placed a knee between her thighs?
The brunette let out a shaky breath, unable to repress a shiver as it ran through her. Brittany just smiled mischievously, slowly closing her eyes. Knowing what was coming, Santana did the same, leaning up a little to meet the other girl's lips.
And then the doorbell rang.
"Oh you have got to be fucking kidding," Brittany spat, lifting her head and glaring at the open door of Santana's bedroom.
The brunette let out a groan, her head falling back onto the bed. "I'd better get that," she muttered, sliding out from under the other girl and heading for the door.
"Fucking clitblocker," Brittany muttered, sitting up and folding her arms.
"I'll be as quick as I can," Santana assured her, heading out of the room and down the stairs. There were no cars outside, and when she opened the front door she found herself face to face with Sam.
"Hi," he said, grinning. Santana returned the smile as best she could. "Sorry I didn't call. I was just passing by and needed to ask you something."
"Sure," the brunette replied, seeing no option but to step aside and let her friend in. She closed the door, and to her horror realised that Sam was already heading for the stairs. She contemplated telling him that she had been in the living room, but that would never fly; her laptop was in her bedroom – Sam knew full-well that she wouldn't be without it.
Fumbling to unlock it, Santana pulled her phone from her pocket and typed out a text message as fast as she could.
TO BRITTANY: Get under the bed NOW
She frantically looked up the stairs, almost afraid to follow. Sam paused and turned, looking down at her with a bemused expression.
"You coming?" he asked. Had the situation been different, she would have probably joked about being led to her own bedroom – but having said that, if the situation were different, she wouldn't be dreading it.
"Yeah," she replied, heading up to join him. Just as they reached the top of the stairs, her phone buzzed.
FROM BRITTANY: When was the last time you cleaned under here? Dirty girl ;)
Only partially relieved, Santana followed Sam into her room – where, thankfully, Brittany was out of sight. She inwardly cringed as her friend sat on the bed, while she opted for her desk chair.
"So what was it you wanted to ask?" she asked, trying as hard as she could to keep her voice casual. Sam shifted on the bed as he pulled something from his pocket, unfolding several printed pages. He passed them to Santana, who was only half paying attention as he spoke.
"There's a meteor shower tonight," he said. "We're gonna be able to see it from here. I was just passing by and I thought I'd ask if you wanted to come with."
"What about Artie and Nicole?" Santana asked, glancing over the information she had been handed. "They'd want to see this too."
"Can't make it," Sam replied with a shrug. "I…ah…already asked them."
Before Santana could respond, her phone vibrated again.
FROM BRITTANY: My perfect ass he was just passing by. He probably only walked so it wasn't completely obvious he meant to come here.
Santana looked up from the message briefly; Brittany was probably right. She quickly typed a response.
"Who're you texting?" Sam asked, still smiling. "Rachel still pestering you?"
"Yeah," Santana replied, her voice a little high-pitched. "Yeah, that's right."
TO BRITTANY: Don't you dare try anything. I can handle this.
But the moment she hit 'send', a silent fear shot through her; what if Brittany's phone made a noise? Sam was hardly going to ignore something ringing or buzzing directly beneath him. The seconds ticked by, and Santana looked back down to the paper in her hand; though it was more to avoid Sam's eyes than anything else. But to her relief, the moment passed, and there was nothing but silence.
"So what do you think?" Sam asked. "Pretty cool, huh? I was thinking we could maybe get some snacks and spend the night out there."
"That sounds…um…"
FROM BRITTANY: And there was me planning on inviting you over mine later. Clearly you're too busy with your boyfriend.
Santana sighed and quickly responded. In her current state, it was only a matter of time before Brittany rolled out from under there and broke Sam's nose.
TO BRITTANY: Well if you let me actually reply, you'd know that I can't do anything with Sam tonight – I'm visiting my girlfriend's house.
FROM BRITTANY: Damn right you are. Now get rid of this dweeb before I rip his balls off through his throat.
"Everything okay…?" Sam asked, a little awkwardly. Santana just forced a smile and nodded.
"It's fine," she replied. "You know how exhausting Rachel can be."
"The girl's crazy," Sam replied with a laugh. "I never got how you two ended up being friends."
FROM BRITTANY: I'll let you call me Rachel if you let me exhaust you.
"Oh, you know…" Santana trailed off, trying her hardest not to glare at the bed. "You'd be surprised how easily complete opposites can end up as friends."
"Yeah, I guess. I like to think there's always possibilities," Sam said, looking oddly wistful for a moment. "Anyway, what about tonight?"
"I…" Santana shook her head and sighed. "I can't tonight. I'm doing something with my parents tomorrow morning so I need the sleep." Instantly, his face fell. Santana felt awful for lying, but once again she found it hard to even consider turning Brittany's offer down. "I'm really sorry."
"No…no, it's fine," Sam replied, nodding slowly. He watched as Santana folded the meteor information and deposited it upon her desk. "I should have asked sooner."
"Next time," Santana said with a nod. "We'll find out earlier, and we can actually plan something. With the others, too."
"Yeah," her friend replied, looking less than convinced.
FROM BRITTANY: Next time, he's gonna be sat out there alone while my head is buried between your legs. Just an FYI.
"Hey, did you hear about Jacob Ben Israel?" Sam continued, less than subtly changing the subject. "Everyone thinks he slushied Quinn Fabray."
"He did," Santana replied slowly, a little concerned by the way Sam had phrased that. The blonde boy just shook his head.
"Everyone's saying that, but I heard it wasn't him," he whispered, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial tone. "I heard someone else did it, and just dropped the cup right in his hand."
"Who, then?" Santana asked, already knowing the answer. She was more concerned that someone else had seen – not that it was so hard to believe, given how many people had been there.
"Brittany Pierce," Sam replied excitedly. "She just swooped past, got Fabray in the back, dumped the cup in Jacob's hand, and got away before barely anyone saw."
"Are you sure?" the brunette enquired, feigning ignorance. "That doesn't seem like Brittany's MO."
"Come on, her and Quinn hate each other," Sam said with a shrug. "Some of the guys I was talking to think someone paid her off to do it."
"Paid her off?" Santana repeated. "Who would do that?"
FROM BRITTANY: That's right. I take payment in hot lady lovins. Get this dork out of here and you can give me an advance.
"Well Quinn's slushied half the school," Sam pointed out. "And Brittany's the only person her jock friends won't touch, right?"
"I guess," Santana replied. She wasn't sure whether her friend was going somewhere with this, or just making conversation.
FROM BRITTANY: God I am so wet for you right now.
Santana let out a mixture between a cough and a yelp at that message, prompting a confused Sam to lean forward slightly.
"You okay?" he asked, smiling helpfully. Santana nodded, hold her throat for effect.
"Just need a drink," she lied. Sam nodded.
"Well anyway, some of them think Brittany will slushy anyone for the right price," he continued. "One guy thinks she's been sleeping with all the guys from the football team that Quinn's dumped, and they're out for revenge."
Santana immediately tensed, positive that Brittany was about to emerge from beneath the bed. But again, there was only silence.
At least for a moment.
FROM BRITTANY: If you don't get him out of here in the next five minutes, I'm gonna show him what revenge really is.
"Well either way, I'm not going to complain if someone has it out for Quinn," Santana replied, getting to her feet. "She's given us enough trouble."
"That's exactly what I'm saying," Sam said, nodding fervently. "We should get her to do something. I dunno if we pay her or something, but wouldn't it be great to get back at Quinn?"
"Brittany's a high school student, Sam," the Latina reminded him. "Not a member of the A-Team."
"I guess," he shrugged, standing up as well. "Well we'll work something out. Honestly, I think Artie just wants to talk to her. You know…properly. Not just her throwing an insult at him when he gets too close."
"I can't see it happening, myself," Santana replied, smirking at the mental image. "But stranger things have happened…"
"Yeah, they have…" Sam murmured, and something about his smile threw Santana off for a moment. "Well, I'd better get going then."
When Santana returned to her bedroom after seeing Sam off, it was to find a rather fed-up looking Brittany sat on the floor at the foot of her bed. The blonde was holding an oddly-posed Transformers toy, inspecting it with interest. As soon as she saw Santana, she looked up and gestured at the figure.
"This guy had his sword up my ass the entire time I was under there," she complained. "Next time you plan on doing that to me, at least make sure there's room."
"Well just be glad you didn't roll onto him," Santana replied, taking the toy from the other girl. "Otherwise he would have lit up and started making a load of noise."
"What, so your friend who thinks I'm a slut doesn't find out I'm here?" the blonde scoffed, getting to her feet and dusting her jacket down.
"Brittany, he doesn't think-"
"I heard him, Specs," Brittany cut in. "I know what he said." She let out a sigh and stretched. "Anyway, I think I'd quite like to carry on where we left off…"
"I thought you wanted me to see your house?" Santana pointed out, taking a step back and smiling in what she hoped was a teasing manner.
"Hmmm well I dunno," the blonde said, putting on an exaggerated frown. "You did take forever to get rid of that douchebag, but…" She smirked. "I can't say no to you."
"Didn't you say you used to enjoy stargazing too?" Santana asked, and for a moment something flickered behind Brittany's smile.
"I guess," she replied with a shrug. "Maybe I just wanna get you on your back in the middle of a field."
~xxx~
The drive to Brittany's house was an interesting experience. It was only really now hitting Santana that she had no idea where her own girlfriend lived. She had heard plenty of stories of course; some said Brittany's family were incredibly wealthy and powerful, others said they were very poor and lived in a rough area – hence Brittany's attitude. There was even one persistent rumor that Brittany had no family, and that she lived permanently in a motel room with a bunch of bikers. There was still time to ask, of course, but Santana had a feeling that Brittany would just give her a cryptic response and tell her to wait and see. Despite her curiosity going unfulfilled, Santana was rather pleased with herself that she was already picking up on Brittany's behaviour and quirks.
She turned away from the blonde, and watched as the houses drifted past the window. She had never been to this area of town before, but she knew they were definitely heading to one of the more affluent areas. Of course Brittany could have just been driving them right out of town altogether, so the mystery remained. After a while, the trees on either side of the road began to grow larger, while the houses became more spaced out. Soon, every house Santana saw was of a unique design, rather than the identical rows of her own street. Some of these houses were surrounded by walls, others by tall iron fences.
This was definitely the richest area for miles.
And eventually, they came to a road winding it's way up a gentle hill. The trees were still thick, providing absolute privacy.
"Brittany…" Santana murmured, unable to take her eyes away from the window. "Is this your driveway?"
"Yup," the blonde replied simply. "Pretty neat, right?"
"Yeah…" the shorter girl breathed, not quite able to believe it. "It's neat, alright…"
They drove a short distance further, and when they rounded a final corner, Santana was faced with one of the most magnificent buildings she had ever seen, let alone in person. The house was enormous; a person would be forgiven for calling it a mansion. But not only was the building's size impressive, but it's age was readily apparent. It almost looked like something from a horror movie; it fit all the haunted house tropes perfectly, with distinctly gothic styling here and there. Santana didn't even know there were any buildings this old in the area, let alone still in a liveable state. She was no expert, but Santana wouldn't have been surprised if it were over one hundred years old.
As they drew closer, it became difficult to see the building in it's entirety, and instead Santana turned her eyes to where they were going. Rather than heading for the large wooden front doors, they continued driving to the side of the house. Whatever it had originally been when the house was built, a small out-building now appeared to serve as a garage. As they drove into it, Santana had a few moments to glimpse the area behind the house, and saw something of a bizarre clash – an incredibly traditional looking garden, likely unchanged from the house's earlier days – but right in the middle of it was what appeared to be a modern swimming pool.
Before she could get a better look, the wall of the garage cut off her view. But the one it was replaced with was no less contradictory – the building was clearly as old as the house, and yet the ceiling played host to several strip lights, all of which had come on automatically as soon as the car had entered. Though despite her initial surprise, Santana reasoned that it made sense – Brittany clearly loved her car, so it would make sense for it's home to be rather well equipped.
Brittany killed the engine, and just sat for a moment, watching Santana take it all in. She turned to the blonde, knowing full-well that her smile must have looked rather dorky.
"I can't believe you live here…" she murmured, almost reverently.
"No, I live in the house," Brittany replied with a smirk. "Jessie lives in here."
Wait. What.
"…your car is called Jessie?" Santana asked after a moment. "Your car has a name?"
There was silence. Even shaded from the garage's lights by the car roof, the pink tinge on Brittany's cheeks was readily apparent.
"…if you so much as utter a single fucking word about this-"
"Wouldn't dream of it," Santana said quickly, holding her hands up. She knew Brittany's threat wasn't entirely serious, but her reaction was simply priceless.
"You better not," the blonde muttered, opening her door and getting out. Santana did the same, and waiting for Brittany to lock the car before following her out of the garage.
"Bye, Jessie!" she called, earning what could only be described as a death glare from the taller girl.
"The fuck has got into you?" she asked. "I think I preferred it when you were stammering over every word."
"I'm dating Brittany Pierce and just about to see her house," Santana said calmly. "I think I'm a little too far gone to be getting nervous now."
"Oh good," the blonde said, stopping for a moment and smiling. "So we can go fuck in the shrubbery, then?"
"…maybe later," Santana replied, her own smile fading somewhat as her cheeks reddened.
"It's going on the bucket list," Brittany shot back, winking as she reached out and took the Latina's hand, leading her back round to the front of the house.
"Don't you have a back door?" Santana asked. And instantly regretted it.
"Well well, Specs is into anal," the blonde commented with another flash of her toothy grin. "Who knew?"
"You know exactly what I mean," Santana snapped, well aware that this was still revenge for laughing at the car.
"Well you want the full effect, right?" Brittany asked with a shrug. "Gotta use the front door for that."
And she certainly wasn't lying. After fumbling with the lock for a moment, Brittany pushed the large wooden doors open, and stepped aside to allow Santana past. She was dimly aware of Brittany closing them behind her, but almost all of her attention was focussed on the room before her. Or rather – the entrance hall. The building's interior definitely matched it's outward appearance, in both style and magnificence.
"This…" she began shakily, wondering briefly if the decorations in the chandelier were real diamonds. "…isn't what I expected at all."
"What, you thought I lived in a box or something?" Brittany chuckled, stepping past her. "Make yourself at home – I need to sort something out quickly."
And without another word, Brittany had disappeared up the impressive staircase that dominated the entrance hall, leaving Santana alone in what felt more like a castle than a house. She stood there for a moment, simply awed by everything around her, before finally deciding to actually have a look around. To her left, connected to the entrance hall by a wide arch with no door, was what she assumed to be a living room – though 'living area' might have been a better term, given it's open-plan nature. As seemed to be a running theme with the house, there was a strange mix of old and modern – at one end sat an incredibly old and ornate mantelpiece, but opposite it was a large flatscreen television.
Stepping a little further towards it, Santana returned her attention towards the mantelpiece. Atop it were several framed photographs, and without Brittany being present, she couldn't help but take a closer look. The middle picture – the largest – was a professionally taken photograph of three people; a man, a woman, a little girl who could be no older than five. Santana smiled slightly as she leant down for a closer look; that little girl had to be Brittany. It was bizarre seeing her looking so sweet and innocent, but given her age in the photo, that was entirely expected. But then, she noticed something odd. As Santana looked more closely at the photo, something very quickly became apparent to her.
That little girl wasn't Brittany.
She might as well have been, but for one tiny detail – the child's eyes were brown, not blue. Confusion filling her, Santana turned to the other pictures, and found those same brown eyes staring back at her. There were different combinations and poses, but always the same three people – a mother, a father, and their blonde, brown-eyed little girl. Suddenly feeling rather sick, Santana backed away from the photos, completely at a loss. She looked desperately around at the few other photos dotted here and there, but it was the same people looking out of them.
And suddenly, everything began to slot into place; the real reason no one knew where Brittany lived. At a brisk pace, she headed back into the entrance hall – just in time to see Brittany coming down the stairs towards her. The blonde was smiling, but it quickly faded when she saw the look upon the Latina's face. The taller girl frowned slightly.
"What's up?" she asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Brittany," Santana said, the firmness of her voice clearly surprising the blonde. "I need you to answer something. And you have to promise me…promise me you're telling the truth."
"…okay?" Brittany was most definitely confused. Maybe she didn't realise Santana had seen the photos; maybe she didn't even know they were there. The brunette took a deep breath.
"Is this really your house?"
Instantly, Brittany's expression changed. She seemed to deflate somewhat, and Santana knew she had been right. She was about to respond, though with what, she never found out.
"Yes."
Santana blinked.
"Excuse me?" she asked, dumbfounded.
"Yes, this is my house," Brittany replied, a lot firmer this time. She glanced over to the living area, and sighed. "Come on."
Santana followed the taller girl over to the mantelpiece, picking up the first photo frame that Santana had inspected. "That's mom, dad…and Amy, my little sister."
"But…but I…" Santana stammered, looking from Brittany and back to the photograph.
"You wanna know why I'm not in any of the pictures, right?" she asked calmly. Santana nodded, suddenly unable to find her voice. Brittany gave a sad smile. "It's not that complicated." She placed the picture back on the mantelpiece. "I'm not in any of them because…I'm the only one that ever sees them." She turned back to Santana and shrugged. "Why would I want pictures of myself everywhere?"
"They're…they're not…um…" Santana trailed off, leaving the question hanging in the air, but Brittany just shook her head.
"Dead?" she asked. "No. Actually, right now they're in Italy."
"Italy?" Santana repeated incredulously. "I don't understand."
"Come upstairs and I'll tell you the whole story," Brittany replied, turning on her heel and heading back towards the stairs. "It's about time you found out who you're dating."
~xxx~
While the rest of Brittany's house was definitely an elegant mix of classical and modern, the blonde's own bedroom was most definitely skewed towards the latter. It was a relatively large room, with a four-poster bed at one end, and a large TV even bigger than the one downstairs opposite it. Adorning the walls were posters of various bands, movies and models – all of whom, Santana noted, were female. The walls themselves were painted a dark grey color, but they were far from colorless thanks to an entire web of fairylights spread out across the ceiling and woven all around the bed's framework.
Brittany closed the door behind them, and motioned for Santana to sit on the bed. The sheets and pillows were made from some expensive-looking black material, soft as silk. The room's owner stood by the door, looking a little awkward. After a moment, she shrugged her jacket off, and tossed it onto a nearby chair. As she did so, Santana shrugged her bag from her shoulder and placed it against the nearest wall.
"So…I guess you have a lot of questions…" she began. "The parent thing isn't actually the main thing I wanted to tell you, so I'll get that out of the way right now." She moved a little further into the room, stopping near one of two tall windows overlooking the gardens. "Mom and Dad are basically always away on business. They're both really high-ranking board members of their company, and are always in some country or other. Helping the brand's global expansion or some shit." She shrugged, and leant an elbow against the window frame. "Amy's way too young to be left alone, so she goes with them. Along with her private tutor." She scoffed. "They tried me with one of those once. It sucked."
Santana listened intently; she had never seen Brittany looking so vulnerable before. She hated herself for it, but a tiny part of her couldn't help but feel smug – though perhaps 'honored' was a better word – that Brittany felt comfortable sharing this with her.
"And so I stay here," Brittany continued. "They wanted me to come with, but…that life really isn't for me. So they left me the house to myself. Just like that."
"Wait, so….you live here all by yourself?" Santana asked, her mouth hanging open. "How long have you been on your own?"
"Oh I dunno," the blonde replied with a shrug. "They left just after I came to McKinley."
In that instant, Santana wanted nothing more than to throw her arms around her girlfriend.
"Brittany…" she whispered, unable to raise her voice any higher. "That was more than a year ago…"
"Yeah…" the taller girl replied, turning back to the window. "And before you ask, yeah it's technically illegal, so...you know…don't tell anyone."
"But…I…what about bills? Taxes? How has the government not realised you're on your own?" Santana asked, more and more questions forming in her head as she went.
"My parents let me live alone," Brittany replied flatly. "They didn't abandon me. And when I need to, I can forge dad's signature. It isn't really a big deal."
"But it is," the Latina insisted. "Brittany, you've been alone all this time, I…why didn't you tell someone?"
"I'm telling you right now," the blonde replied, glancing over her shoulder and meeting Santana's gaze. "You're the first person I've ever trusted enough…"
"I don't believe that for a second," Santana replied sharply. "Even if I get over the fact that you actually want to date me, you can't tell me that you never thought to tell your other friends? What about Noah Puckerman? He was at your old school, wasn't he?"
Brittany was silent for a moment, gazing out over the garden for a few moments, before bowing her head and allowing her eyes to close.
"Yeah, he was," she murmured. "He knows me far too well already."
"…Brittany?" Santana asked, wishing more and more that the blonde would just come over and sit with her; she was looking more agitated by the second.
"Not a single person in Lima has ever heard what I'm about to tell you, Santana," Brittany began, letting out another sigh. "I'm amazed no one's found out, but…why would they even look…?" She sighed again, and stood a little straighter. "At my old school, there was…ah…a girl. Everyone was afraid of her; scared to cross her path."
Well, Santana didn't need telling who that was.
"Everyone wanted to either be her or be with her," Brittany continued. "She even put a few people in the hospital. This all sounding familiar?"
Santana nodded wordlessly.
"Well, she thought she had everything; no one could touch her," the taller girl went on. "Then one day, this new girl turns up. Typical ditzy blonde; got a spot on the cheerleading team, had a load of friends within a week. She was a real airhead, you know? She was always drawing little rainbows on stuff; all that magical fairy princess shit. She was a complete weirdo, but not enough to really bother anyone, I guess. Then one day, she's wearing a new pair of sneakers – stupid bright pink things with lights in them. The sorta things a three year-old wouldn't be seen dead in. Anyway, the laces come undone, and she trips right into the school's resident badass. Now she's not too happy about it, so she pushes the cheerleader away. Tells her to mind her own goddamn business, like the stupid bitch should have done in the first place."
"So there were a few more accidents like that, until eventually, she gets so pissed off with this cheerleader that she decides to do a little digging – find out what's really going on in that head full of ponies and talking frogs and magic farts. And eventually she strikes gold – little miss airhead likes girls. Kept the whole thing secret, but I guess it explained the rainbows everywhere. And after the cheerleader trips over those fucking shoes one more time, she snaps – she tells everyone in the whole school that rainbow-girl is a fucking dyke."
"And that was it for her – her friends didn't want to know her, she was kicked off the cheerleading team, and eventually…people just stopped hearing from her."
Santana sat in stunned silence, unable to comprehend what she had just heard. It couldn't be true. It just couldn't.
"Brittany…" she croaked, her voice coming out rather hoarse. "You…oh my god, you…you outed someone? To the whole school? How could….how could you…I…"
"Santana, please…" Brittany murmured; she too sounded close to tears, but Santana didn't care. The Latina shot to her feet.
"I can't believe you could do that to someone," she said, literally shaking with anger as she glared at the back of the blonde's head. "And after that, did she…she killed herself, didn't she? That cheerleader killed herself and that's why you left your old school? That's what you really mean, isn't it?"
"Please, Santana, don't-"
"Don't what?" Santana spat, her fists clenched. "Remind you of what a massive hypocrite you are? How the hell could you even think about doing any of the things you've done with me? Is that why you really hated her? Because you knew you like girls too? What was it, Brittany?"
"Santana-"
"Actually, you know what? Save it. I don't even want to know what's going on in that head of yours," the Latina continued, jabbing a finger in the blonde's direction. "You really are just as bad as everyone thinks, aren't you? They all think you're scary because you can beat them up, but just how much worse would it be if they actually knew?"
And with that, Santana turned to leave. But she hadn't even made contact with the door handle before she noticed Brittany had turned around. She chanced a look up at the blonde, and saw just what a state she was in; her eyes were red and swollen; cheeks shining with tears.
"Wait, please…I…" she sobbed, stepping closer. "Don't…you don't…"
"Don't what?" Santana barked, reaching for the door handle again.
"You don't understand, I…" Brittany let out another sob, and bowed her head, hair hiding her face from view.
"Don't understand what?" the brunette asked, not even sure why she was still bothering.
Brittany took a deep breath that rattled in her throat, before straightening up and swallowing uncomfortably. She stared at Santana through pained eyes; pleading eyes.
"I was the cheerleader."