A/N: Hey everyone! So originally Stubborn Love was meant to be a one shot, but I kept hearing all these songs and weaving them into Brittana stories (I need a life, I know) so I decided to continue it as a series of interconnected but standalone little Brittana encounters. I'll twist canon as I please, and continue on to their adult lives as well.
I'm not sure if they'll all be in order, but I'll try to keep them easy to follow and offer a little summary at the beginning of each one.
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or any of these songs or any that I will use in the future.
So this takes place around their junior year in college (they're approximately 20-21). Everyone is home for Thanksgiving. Brittana broke up at the same time, for the same reasons as they did in canon, and slowly lost touch. Now they're both in Lima, and see each other at karaoke night at Breadstix. Let's find out how it goes…
*Note: Italics are Santana's thoughts, Italics with quotes are songs.
Chapter 2: Every Time I Hear Your Name & Pink Bullets
Breastix was crowded; crammed with families reunited for Thanksgiving, out celebrating at one of the nicer restaurants that Lima had to offer (there weren't many of them). It was karaoke night, a Wednesday, and Santana was out with Mercedes, Rachel, Blaine and Kurt. It was great to see everyone again, even if it did fucking suck to be back in Lima. It would always be her hometown, but it wasn't her home anymore. That wasn't the only reason she didn't want to be here though.
She caught a flash of blonde hair across the restaurant.
Brittany.
Of course she would be here. She hadn't missed a family holiday since her first year at MIT, and she always had loved Breadstix; it made sense that she had dragged Mike, Sam, Artie, Tina, and some brunette that she didn't recognize out for karaoke night.
God, what an awkward bunch. Let's see, there was Artie and Brittany, Sam and Brittany, Artie and Tina, Mike and Tina, that one awkward make-out session between Sam and Tina she'd heard about a few years ago…but Brittany never did understand the concept of exes. She wanted to be friends with everybody. It didn't make sense to her that exes couldn't ever really be friends…that's why it hurt so much that they hadn't spoken in months…hadn't spoken of anything important for even longer. Who is that with them anyway? They're being awfully touchy-feely, her and Britt.
Of course they'd tried the whole "still best friends" thing after they'd broken up, but it just never would've worked. They couldn't stand to talk to each other about dating, and there's only so much you can say to each other before it all starts getting repetitive when you can't stay on any deep topics without your heart feeling like it's shrinking from everything that's missing. So they'd drifted apart.
"Earth to Satan!" Kurt was snapping his fingers in her face.
"Cool your shit, Porcelain, what do you want?"
"I had asked," Rachel jumped in, "if you're going to honor us with a song tonight?"
They were still on again off again friends, had been for years. Funny Girl was a massive success, and they'd eventually gotten over the ridiculous argument over it well enough to have lots of other ridiculous arguments. Rachel was doing well on Broadway, but Santana had decided it wasn't for her, which made getting along that much easier. They still lived together; Kurt had gotten a place with Blaine when he moved to New York after high school, leaving to two of them with a lot more space, but no desire to move. So they stayed, Rachel attending classes at NYADA, Santana attending NYU part-time for business.
"Well of course, Hobbit, someone's going to have to stop the ear bleeding from all the mediocre to offensively terrible voices in this town. With the exception of those at this table, of course. Besides, you, Hair-gel, and Aretha already performed, I suppose it's my duty to close out the evening."
"Looks like you might have to wait, girl." Mercedes gestured at the stage. A bubbly voice spoke up.
Fucking hell.
"Hi everyone! I'm Brittany S. Pierce! I'm not usually much of a singer, (bullshit, she might love dancing, but Brittany sang to herself while she did chores, while she danced, walking around school, getting ready to go out, pretty much all the time) but this has been one of my favorite songs for the past few years, so I thought I'd share it all with you tonight! I hope you enjoy it."
A guitar chord rang out of the giant speakers onstage, and Brittany gripped the microphone.
She always was a closet country fan. Used to be more ashamed of that than her sexuality. Go figure.
"Finally got over that song of ours,
Stopped chasing little red sports cars,
To check their license plates,
And I quit driving by your place,
Back making the rounds at our old haunts,
Honkey tonks, restaurants,
Seeing some of our old friends,
Feels good to dance again."
She gave a little twirl and smiled into the song, which actually seemed to be kind of sad; its upbeat tempo was deceiving.
"I can finally smell your perfume
And not look around the room for you,
And I can walk right by your picture in a frame,
And not feel a thing.
But when I hear your name,
I feel rain, falling right out of the blue sky,
And it's the fifth of May,
And I'm right there staring in your eyes,
That's all it takes,
And I'm in that place,
I get lost in the innocence of a first kiss,
And I'm hanging on,
To every word falling off of your lips,
And nothing's changed,
We're still the same,
Every time I hear your name."
Seriously!? She's up there, singing that damn song, everyone here who knows us knows what she's singing about, fuck. Goddammit Brittany. Does the word "personal" have no meaning to you?
It didn't, she knew. Brittany wasn't someone for keeping anything a secret, that is, unless Santana specifically explained what to keep secret and why. As hard as the song was hitting her, she couldn't look away. She felt the same. Rachel and Kurt knew it, and after the breakup, neither of them had ever mentioned Brittany unless Santana had brought her up first. Even then, they had spoken of her rarely. All four of her friends at the table seemed to be torn between watching Brittany and watching Santana's reaction. She could feel their eyes on her, but she ignored it.
"Got someone special in my life,
Everyone thinks she'll make a great wife,
Dad says he thinks she's 'the one,'
Reminds him of mom when she was young,"
A wink and a blown kiss aimed at the table she'd been sitting at, or, more specifically, at the mystery brunette, who mimed catching it. What the actual fuck? Fine. She wants to flaunt it like that? She wants to force me to think about our failed relationship? I can play that game too.
"But it's way too soon to be talking about rings,
Don't wanna rush into anything,
She's getting over someone too,
Kinda like me and you,
She talks about him every once in a while,
And I just nod my head and smile,
'Cause I know exactly what she's going through,
Yeah, I've been there too.
When the conversation turns to you,
I get caught, in a "you were the only one for me,"
Kind of thought,
And your face is all that I see,
I know I can't go back,
But I still go back,
And there we are,
Parked down by the riverside,
And I'm in your arms,
About to make love for the first time,
That's all it takes,
And I'm in that place,
Every time I hear your name.
I've stopped thinking about the words I left unsaid,
Stopped trying to change the things that I can't change,
In my heart I know you're gone,
But in my head,
I feel rain, falling right out of the blue sky,
And it's the fifth of May,
And I'm right there staring in your eyes,
That's all it takes,
And I'm in that place,
And there we are,
Parked down by the riverside,
And I'm in your arms,
About to make love for the first time,
And I can't explain,
But I'm in that place,
Every time I hear your name.
Every time I hear your name."
Half of the restaurant was on its feet; it was rare that karaoke night at Breadstix got such a fantastic, emotional performance.
Well they're gonna get another one. Britt hates sad songs? That fucking sucks then doesn't it?
"You don't have to go up you know, Santana. We could just go…"Rachel trails off.
"No. I have the perfect song. It's fine." She rose from the table and made her way to the DJ. Whispering in his ear, he nodded, and she took the stage.
"Hey, everyone. I'm Santana Lopez. You may recognize me as the girl from that Broadway musical, Funny Girl?"
"One time! Io got food poisoning and you were in it one time!" she hears from the crowd and grins.
"Aaaaanyway, that last performance is going to be a hard one to follow," She looks at Brittany, and is perturbed to see blue eyes staring wide-eyed at her in surprise. Maybe she hadn't noticed she was even there; maybe it wasn't out of spite that she'd performed that song with her new girlfriend in plain sight. "But, I hope you're in for something a little mellower. Here it is, "Pink Bullets.""
As the beginning strains of a mournful harmonica sound from the speakers, she takes a deep breath and pours her smoky alto into the song.
"I was just bony hands,
As cold as a winter pole,
You held a warm stone out,
New flowing blood to hold.
Oh, what a contrast you were,
With the brutes in the halls,
My timid young fingers held
A decent animal."
The first day of third grade. She'd been silent, moody. She hadn't wanted to move; she hated this new school. She'd been pushed around in the hall, shoved down by the boys. A little girl with blond pigtails had run over and grabbed her hand, and she'd held on for dear life.
"Over the ramparts you tossed,
The scent of your skin,
And some foreign flowers.
Tied to a brick,
Sweet as a song,
The years have been short,
But the days were long.
Cool of a temperate breeze,
From dark skies to wet grass,
We fell in a field,
It seems now a thousand summers past.
When our kite lines first crossed,
We tied them into knots.
To finally fly apart,
We had to cut them off."
Their lives had been intertwined since then, impossibly tangled. It wasn't "Santana," or "Brittany," only "Santana and Brittany," or "Brittany and Santana." Then all of a sudden, it wasn't.
"Since then it's been a book
You read in reverse,
So you understand less as the pages turn,
Or a movie so crass,
And awkwardly cast,
That even I could be the star.
I don't look back much as a rule.
And all this,
Way before murder was cool,
But your memory is here,
And I'd like it to stay,
A warm light,
On a winter's day."
She'd refused to even acknowledge the emeries for a long time. But after a while, even that pain starts to dull to an aching throb, rather than a sharp stab at every move. And eventually, she imagined, those memories could be happy again, instead of just reminder of everything that's lost, like everything else in this godforsaken place.
"Over the ramparts you tossed,
The scent of your skin,
And some foreign flowers.
Tied to a brick,
Sweet as a song,
The years have been short,
But the days go slowly by,
Two loose kites, falling from the sky,
Drawn to the ground,
And an end to flight."
After all this, it was still over, and when she glanced at Brittany and saw blue eyes squinted, holding back tears, while her brunette wrapped an arm around her shoulder and whispered something in her ear, pulling her up, Santana didn't feel vindicated, just sick. Listening to the clapping of the audience, she walked off the stage and sat down at her table.
Seeing her friends concerned glances, but barely hearing their inquisitions as to whether or not she was alright, she waved them off. She was fine. Or at least she would be.
A/N: So sad! Don't worry, they won't all be angsty! (although the next few will). And for anyone reading my other story, To Find a Home, Firstly, you're awesome, and secondly, I will be updating soon! I have lots of ideas, just need time to actually write them!
One last thing, if you want me to do a song, leave a review and let me know what song you'd like me to write a chapter for! The two in this chapter were "Every Time I Hear Your Name" by Keith Anderson, and "Pink Bullets" by The Shins. Thanks for reading!