A/N: Woah, two days in a row, crazy! Not gonna lie, the only reason is because I heard this song yesterday and wanted to write it, but it didn't fit with my story until there was some explanation of why Brittany is in NYC. Hope you guys liked the last chapter. Can't believe you thought I'd leave it like I did in chapter 4; we all know Brittana is endgame.
Trying a little something different in this chapter, Liz's POV, let me know if you like it! This takes place about a month and a half after the last chapter. You'll have to be insightful as to what's going on between Britt and Santana.
Also, shout out to Tishamay for reviewing the last chapter, glad you liked it J That's one of my favorite songs.
...
Chapter 6: Lips of an Angel, Say Something
It was 8:30 p.m., and Santana was late coming home for the third night in a row. She was late twice last week too when she tried to call. Just because we fight most of the time doesn't mean I don't want her home. We'll never be able to work through this if she's never here… Liz had been dating Santana for about four years now, and they'd been on the rocks for a while. They're in love though. No doubt about it. And happy. Obviously. They can work through it. If Santana would just come home every once in a while, godammit.
Liz thought back to when they'd first moved in together. They'd dated for about a year and a half before taking the plunge (Santana refused to be one of those U-Haul lesbian stereotypes). For about six months afterwards, Santana seemed ecstatic. She brought home flowers just because, or came home from work early so that she could cook dinner. Then after visiting her family for Christmas, something began to shift. First she seemed a little colder, more closed off. Then she started snapping. It all progressed so slowly that it was almost imperceptible at the time, but looking back, Liz could hardly believe how idealistic and sweet their relationship had once been.
She's brought out of her reverie by the jangly rattle of keys at the door. She pushed herself up off the couch and stood facing the door. When Santana came in, she seemed surprised that Liz was just standing there looking at her.
"What?"
"It's almost nine," Liz answers, looking halfway between disappointed and irritated. "You used to be home by six."
"So I've been working late, we've been busy," Santana retorts, "It's not like you're not off traipsing the globe whenever you get the chance. I was three hours late coming home from work, you were three days late coming home from Australia. What's your point?"
Liz held her tongue for a minute and counted to ten. Santana had a point, she was gone a lot, but she missed her all the time. "Which is why I was hoping you'd be home, so we can spend some time together. I really missed you, I feel like we're ships in the night right now. I haven't seen you properly in over a month."
Santana looked appropriately abashed. "I know," she replied, "We never see each other. And when we do, we always seem to do this," She adds, gesturing between them. "I'm tired of it. I'm going out with some friends tonight, you should come along. I wasn't sure you'd be up for it, so I didn't ask before."
It's not lost on Liz that Santana never said she misses her as well. Something in her wilts at that. That has to be what she meant though. She invited me along tonight, didn't she?
"Sure," she finds herself saying, "Let's go."
...
And that's how she finds herself in a tiny pub on a Friday night with Santana's friends Rachel, Blaine, Kurt, and a blonde introduced to her as Brittany. She seems nice, but a little standoffish, which is odd. Every once in a while Liz catches a scent that seems familiar, but its identity or where she's smelt it before eludes her.
Alcohol is flowing freely, and Rachel is soon on stage belting out one of her favorite ballads. Not that the alcohol has anything to do with that, except that it helps everyone forget that this is her third song in a row. Finally, Santana waves her off just as she trying to convince the DJ to play her another song for karaoke.
"Come on, Hobbit, quit stealing the spotlight. You have that big bright Broadway one, but this little dingy pub is all that these amateurs have. I'd like a turn discouraging them too."
She climbed up onstage and without so much as an intro, except an odd look at Liz, she began. Liz immediately knew something was wrong. The look in her eyes, the sound of her voice, she'd only heard it once before. Santana was opening up her heart, up there for all to see. Or at least all who knew Santana. As the lyrics began, she was shocked to find that she'd heard them before. The night before to be exact. Only they weren't being sung then.
...
(the previous night)
Santana's phone rang, jolting both of them out of the exhausted sleep they'd fallen into after their screaming match when Liz got home a full three days after she was supposed to from a conference in Sydney. As Santana fumbled for it, Liz pulled her sleep shirt and mumbled, "Jus' leave it, babe. Go back to sleep..."
"It's, um, work stuff," Santana stuttered as she slid out a bed and answered it.
Rolling over to look at the clock as her girlfriend quietly closed their bedroom door behind her, Liz saw that it was almost one in the morning. What fucking work emergency could possibly be this important? She climbed out a bed and was about to open the door when she realized she could hear Santana speaking into her phone in hushed tones.
"Honey, why are you calling me so late?
It's kind of hard to talk right now."
…
"Honey, why are you crying? Is everything ok?"
…
"I gotta whisper 'cause I can't be too loud."
...
(present)
"Well, my girl's in the next room,
Sometimes I wish she was you,
I guess we never really moved on.
It's really good to hear your voice
Saying my name,
It sounds so sweet.
Coming from the lips of an angel,
Hearing those words,
It makes me weak.
I never want to say goodbye,
But girl you make it hard to be faithful,
With the lips of an angel.
...
(previous night)
"It's funny that you're calling me tonight."
…
"Yes, I dreamt of you too."
…
"He doesn't know you're talking to me?
Will it start a fight?"
…
"No, I don't think she has a clue."
Liz shook her head and crawled back into bed, eyes stinging. It's not true. God please, it's not true. This is just a dream.
...
(present)
"It's really good to hear your voice
Saying my name,
It sounds so sweet.
Coming from the lips of an angel,
Hearing those words makes me weak.
I never want to say goodbye,
But girl, you make it hard to be faithful,
With the lips of an angel."
"And that was a rendition of Hinder's "Lips of an Angel," by one Miss Santana Lopez! Ladies and gentlemen, let's give her a round of applause."
Perfume. That was the smell. Brittany had stood up to hug Santana as she got off the stage and she finally caught it. It was on her pillow. Her pillow smelled like perfume. Someone else's perfume. Brittany's perfume. She pushed her chair back, almost tipping it in her hurry to be out of the bar. She almost fell a few times when she tripped over chairs (or people, or maybe tables, she wasn't really looking) on her way to the door. She heard Santana calling after her as she strode down the sidewalk toward the subway station and she slowed down a little.
When she finally allowed Santana to catch her arm and spin her around, she shocked herself with the open handed slap that cracked across her lover's cheek. Her hand dropped to her side as Santana touched the rapidly reddening skin.
"I deserved that," she murmured before looking up to meet Liz's gaze.
"You slept with her."
Santana nodded.
"You cheated on me."
"Yes. Hadn't seen you in weeks, you were home for a day of two then gone again! You can't say that this was working-"
"I'm not! Goddammit Santana! It wasn't, ok? It wasn't working! But it could've. It could've, before you cheated and then humiliated me in front of you friends and her. Fuck you. Fuck. You. At least tell me it was a mistake. Tell me you're sorry that you're losing me. That you wish she'd never come to New York."
Liz was screaming in the street now, and knew that the casual passerby would be staring at this insane girl wondering what could possibly be worth all the fuss, but all that mattered to her was the way her girlfriend's eyes were filling up with tears, and her mouth was staying conspicuously closed.
"Please, Santana. Tell me."
She looked at her expectantly, but Santana just shook her head and turned away.
Liz barely heard her as she walked away.
"I can't."
As Liz stood in the street, one of the performers down on the subway platform started playing a cover of one of her favorite songs. Or at least it had been her favorite, until tonight.
"Say something, I'm giving up on you.
I'll be the One if you want me to.
Anywhere I would've followed you.
Say something, I'm giving up on you.
And I am feeling so small,
It was over my head, I know nothing at all.
And I will stumble and fall,
I'm still learning to love, just starting to crawl.
Say something I'm giving up on you.
I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you.
Anywhere I would've followed you.
Say something I'm giving up on you.
And I will swallow my pride.
You're the one that I love, and I'm saying goodbye.
Say something I'm giving up on you.
Say something…"
A/N: "Say Something," by A Great Big World, and "Lips of an Angel," by Hinder