Shelter
Part One
Chapter Five: Why Don't We Go Somewhere Only We Know?
Ships: Brittana with Sam/Brittany, Santofsky, Puck/Brittany, Quinntana friendships. Very minor Quick.
Summary: The only thing worse than being reaped is volunteering for someone you love. Because then they have something to use against you. Brittany and Santana learn that the hard way.
Other: This is a Hunger Games AU. Every chapter will be named after a line from a Glee song with contextual or sometimes more literal relevance to the chapter.
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or The Hunger Games.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: An anonymous reviewer talked some sense into me regarding my ten review a chapter thing. If you're reading this, you're right. I shouldn't really explain, but as someone who's struggling with getting into writing as a career path, criticism and feedback really helps. However, my way of trying to get some was wrong and you were right. I'm self-admittedly very proud and so I don't do this often, even in real life. I'm sorry if anyone felt blackmailed, as that was my intention. I'm dropping the cap and I will update once a week, regardless. As an attempt to make it up to you guys, I present to you chapter five. And to Hook1, I hope you're still reading.
When the train came to a sudden stop, Brittany jerked forward in her seat on Kurt's bed. Her eyes darted around the room nervously and she began to drum her fingers on Kurt's bed spread. She heard a sort of hissing noise that was loud but also distant. She stood from her spot at the edge of Kurt's bed, which was now crinkled. She sped to the small rectangular window parallel to the cabin door and stood on her toes to look through it. All that she saw, was darkness.
"Kurt?" she called and looked back, concerned. "Where are we? How did it turn to night so fast?"
"Oh honey," Kurt stood behind her and put his hands on her shoulders, trying to get her to sit. "We've arrived. This is just the train station."
Suddenly, the train started to move again, but so slowly that Brittany thought that she could feel every movement in her toes. She held on to the wall in support, her long fingers curved against the wallpaper. Then the train stopped again. She looked out the window again, but instead of the darkness that she had seen previously, she saw many giant greyish-blue buildings and in what seemed like the centre, there stood a building twice the size of the rest. She'd never seen anything so huge in her life.
"They call them skyscrapers," she turned to see Kurt putting away various items that had been spread around the room.
"They're huge," Brittany was awestruck. "I think my whole district could fit inside."
"Welcome to the Capitol." Kurt let out a dry chuckle.
Brittany stepped off of the train, with a bag in each hand, and looked out toward the blinding light end of the tunnel. The way the light shone and seemingly made a small halo out of the dark tunnel reminded Brittany of the sunsets back home. She felt someone touch her hand and she recoiled a little bit, in shock.
A tall young man with dark hair took her bags from her arms and placed them on a trolley. She was about to take her bags back from the silent vandal, but she caught sight of his light brown pants and green jacket, with a gold crest on the left breast and figured that he worked at the train station. She watched as the other passengers on the train, although only a few, handed their bags off to the tall worker without sparing another glance, except for Puck who nodded appreciatively.
"Thank you, sir," Brittany smiled kindly. Her parents had always taught her to use her manners and be courteous to others. The man stopped arranging the bags on his cart and looked up at her in shock.
"Rumour is," she heard Kurt whisper in her ear, "They've had their tongues cut off. Crazy, right?"
"Why?" Brittany asked, confused and still looking at the tall boy.
"They're basically subjected to serve the Capitol for their whole life," Kurt explained as he adjusted his countless garment bags onto the trolley. "They'll never need to talk. Just follow orders."
The boy looked up at her again and Brittany gazed into heavy, brown eyes. This boy had a mother and a father and maybe even a brother or a sister. In another life, the life that Brittany had only heard stories about, he might've been an athlete or a singer or something. But instead, this boy that was probably the same age as her was being forced to be a slave to the Capitol for the rest of his life. It wasn't fair.
As if reading her mind, Kurt looked back up at Brittany with sympathetic eyes, "A lot of things here aren't fair Brittany. Don't trouble yourself with them."
Although Mags was speaking, Brittany found herself watching Santana's movements in the lobby of the building that she would call home for her time until the Games. Santana was lazily leaning against a tall beam in the corner in the room farthest from Brittany. Brittany knew that Santana probably hadn't taken that into consideration, but it felt like she had. Her dark eyes would flutter shut and her neck would slowly give in to her exhaustion, lowering her chin toward her chest, before her eyes opened abruptly and she shook herself out of her exhausted state. This happened, Brittany counted, eight times, and each of those times, it brought a nostalgic smile to Brittany's face.
Brittany's bliss was interrupted by Kurt walking into her line of sight, flanked by two girls at either side of him. The girl on his right was a few inches than Brittany was, curvaceous and had dark skin and shoulder-length black hair. She seemed to hold an air of intensity about her and intimidated Brittany a little bit. The girl to Kurt's right was a short, thin brunette who seemed to be very perky and enthusiastic, judging by the way she had a tiny bounce in her step that Brittany noticed every time she would walk closer.
"Brittany," Kurt greeted. "These two lovely ladies here, are the other two parts of your three-person beauty team."
"Hey girl," greeted the black girl to Kurt's right. "I'm Mercedes, your makeup artist, and-"
"I am Rachel, your hair artisan," the other girl stepped in front of Mercedes and Kurt and stuck her hand out in front of her. Brittany took her rather small hand and shook it, firmly. "You should come with me. I need to assess your hair."
"But I-" Brittany tried to interrupt but the small girl dragged her into the colossal building, gripping her hand. Behind her, she could've swore that she heard Kurt and Mercedes laughing.
"Brittany, was it?"
As soon as they entered the building, Rachel had pulled her towards the elevator and hit the button for the ninth floor. The building, Rachel had explained, was the home of all tributes and their training and beauty teams until the Games and the floors worked in opposite order. District One was on the twelfth and highest floor, District Two on the eleventh, and so on. Rachel then showed her where her room would be, as her permanent smile faltered, and then dragged her to the large room shared by her, Mercedes, and Kurt. Now Brittany was sitting on a wide padded chair in the middle of Rachel's washroom, while Rachel stood leaning in front of her, studying the way her hair swept in front of her face.
"You have nice hair. Smooth and silky," Rachel muttered, distractedly as she ran her forefingers through strands of blonde. "Must be the salt water."
"Oh," Brittany said, awkwardly. "Thanks, I guess."
Rachel turned around and seemed to sift through the countless bottles of hair and skincare products that were piled on the counter. When she turned around again, she was holding two small bottles. She held the first one, in creamy white casing in front of Brittany's face.
"This will recreate the effect the salt has on your hair. Lather this on in the shower every morning and then rinse it off after a few minutes. It's not as good as the real thing, but it's the best we have."
Brittany nodded and took the bottle from her hands as Rachel held the other, in a light blue bottle, up.
"This one will provide your skin with the vitamin D that the sun usually provides. You won't be spending much time outside for a while now. Put it in right after you rinse out the other one."
"Thank you," Brittany said, half-heartedly. "Is that all?"
"Yes, for now. Though, Brittany, I have to admit I didn't expect you to be this pretty. Often times, when someone is spoken so highly of, the image of them is much more than the actual person, so I lowered my expectations but," Rachel paused to breathe and offered the first genuine smile Brittany had seen on her face all day. "You're just as beautiful as I've heard."
"What?" Brittany furrowed her eyebrows and tilted her head slightly, in confusion.
"You're very beautiful." Rachel repeated. "A different beauty than Santana though."
"Santana?" What did she have to do with this? Why would Rachel bring her up?
"Yes. Santana has amazing skin. Flawless, even. It makes Mercedes' job quite easy and they seem to get on pretty well because of it. She also has impeccable body. Skinny, but strong, and attractive curves, so Kurt had an easy time styling her too." Rachel nodded and turned around again, reorganizing her many hair products. "But Santana's one flaw is her hair. It's beautiful, yes, but she seems to be ethnically mixed, which resulted in her hair being very thick and sometimes difficult to manage. So I tend to spend the most time with her before events and such."
Brittany nodded, still not understanding where Rachel was going with what she was saying. It seemed like she was just rambling, but Brittany sensed that she was taking the conversation somewhere.
"Did you know that since the twentieth century, people have seen hairdressers as makeshift therapists? I'm not sure why, but even the most… volatile of people seem to be more vulnerable when I fix their hair," Rachel turned, leaned against the counter.
"I knew that," Brittany said referring to the historical fact. Rachel looked at her expectantly and Brittany added on to her statement, "But I don't understand why you told me that,"
"You'll come to learn that this whole Games isn't as simple as it seems. It's not all celebrity and glamour and money and free clothes. It's actually very complicated." Rachel said, seeming more and more like a teacher talking to a student.
"Everyone keeps saying that," Brittany muttered, trying to hide the exasperation in her tone.
"Because it is," Rachel said with a entertained smile. "You'll see."
Brittany opened her mouth to say something else but she was interrupted when the door to the washroom burst open. Santana stood in the doorway, one hand on the doorknob and the other leaning against the door frame.
"Rach, I-" Santana stopped mid-sentence. She sounded out of breath. Her eyes landed on me. "Oh, uh-"
She looked so beautiful, standing in the doorway. Her long hair was down in tresses and even though it was messy with little hairs straying around, it looked carelessly perfect. She was wearing a tight tank top that showed her taut stomach muscles, well-endowed chest and smooth toned arms.
"Brittany, I'm sure your needed downstairs. Tributes usually have their first training assessments now. You should go."
Rachel nearly pushed herout of the washroom and as Brittany walked passed Santana, their arms brushed. Brittany swore she felt a small shock of electricity travel through Santana's body and into hers. Right before Rachel closed the door on her face, she locked eyes with Santana and was overcome with feelings of intense desire.
"I-"She was about to open her mouth to say something, anything, but she found herself out of the washroom and the door was promptly shut in front of her. Brittany heard shuffling on the other side of the door and two voices, in light argument. She wanted to go back in the room and talk to, or even just watch Santana, but instead she dropped her head and left the room for her first training session.
"That was fucking sick!" Puck exclaimed, bouncing on his toes. "How awesome was that, huh?"
Puck and Brittany were walking to their elevators on their way back to their rooms. They had just finished their first skills assessment and Puck was elated because of the compliments he had received from Mags, who ran the session. She had put them through a series of tests, both mental and physical, like seeing how far they could run until they were out of breath, weird three-dimensional puzzles, and weight lifting. She also took a bunch of measurements and weighed them.
Puck had done very well on most of the physical tests and surprisingly, equally as well on the mental tests. Brittany had done well on most of the physical tests as well. Mags actually was very impressed by both her strength and cardiovascular endurance. On the mental tests, Brittany had done abysmal. It was very nerve-wracking for her, sitting in that little chair, trying to figure out how to get the arrow out of the tangled objects or trying to make a cube with those all those different pieces. To add onto the fact, she could hear Puck moving around beside her and Mags in front of them writing something on her clipboard. She never had done well under pressure.
"It was alright," Brittany responded, blankly.
They both stepped in front of the elevator and it opened automatically. Puck pressed a calloused finger to the button labelled 'IX', which they had both learned stood for nine. He leaned back against the handrail and ran a large hand through his thin Mohawk.
"I can't wait until we actually learn how to do shit," Puck sighed, wistfully. "Maybe we'll get to use tridents and shit."
"Yeah," Brittany said, trying to sound enthusiastic. "Maybe."
Although she tried to put up a front that she was just as excited as Puck, she wasn't. She was disturbed, deeply. In a few days, they would be taught how to kill. Someone's son or daughter or brother or sister could die at her hands. She tried to fight the image of herself stabbing a knife into the blood-torn body of Kyle or Stacey. She suddenly felt sick and she didn't know how Puck wasn't feeling the same. She heard the familiar pinging noise announcing that the elevator had arrived at their floor. Puck stepped out of the elevator, still with a spring in his step.
"You coming?" Puck asked, expectantly.
"I just need a minute," Brittany said. Puck nodded and walked off towards his room.
The doors to the elevator closed and the only noise that was audible was Brittany's heavy breathing. She focused on calming herself down the only way she knew how. Sam taught her years ago that whenever she felt her heart beating really fast, she had to breathe in through her nose and out through her mouth really deeply. So she did. She closed her eyes and began to breathe. In. Out. In. Out. The elevator doors opened again and Brittany looked up in shock. Dave was standing in front of the open doors, staring at her.
"I was just thinking…" Brittany tried to think of an excuse.
"XIII," Dave spelled out. "It's the thirteenth floor. It's a good place to… think."
He turned around and when the doors closed, Brittany apprehensively ran her fingers over the button labelled 'XIII'. After a few seconds of deliberation, Brittany pressed the button and she felt the elevator slowly begin to rise.=
When the doors opened, a gust of cool wind hit her face, which was still warm and flushed from her assessment. Brittany stared at the short concrete walls and the sun setting into the sky that was above her. The roof. The sky was a warm tone of pinkish orange and the sun seemed to sink lower by the second. She stepped one foot out onto the roof and heard some shuffling.
"Who's there?" Brittany said. She stepped out of the elevator completely and saw a familiar figure sitting on the ledge of the building. Before she could stop herself she flung her body toward the figure and wrapped her arms around them, pulling them toward her and off the ledge. They both fell toward the floor of the roof but Brittany held the struggling person in her arms.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Santana spat as she fought out of Brittany's arms.
"Don't jump," Brittany pleaded. Tears started to run through her tightly shut eyes. "Please don't jump."
"I wasn't jumping," Santana pushed Brittany's arms off her and rolled off the taller girl. She adjusted her top, the same one she had been wearing when she had walked into Rachel's washroom, and stood up. Her dark eyes traced the salty tears running down Brittany's face. "Fuck, I-I didn't... Don't."
Santana bent down and wiped Brittany's tears away, tenderly. Brittany felt that spark run through her body and judging by the way Santana pulled her hand away and returned to her standing position. Brittany sniffled and wiped her eyes.
"I just… I thought that y-."
"I wasn't," Santana looked at Brittany in a way that Brittany had never felt someone's eyes on her before. "I just… I like to sit there and think. It's like my private spot, you know?"
"Oh," Brittany sniffled again. "Sorry."
Brittany turned back toward the elevator when she felt a soft hand grab hers. She whipped her head around and saw Santana holding her hand. Santana looked like a deer in headlights. She immediately dropped Brittany's hand and stepped back.
"Just… Stay. It's okay," Santana made her way back to her previous position of sitting on the ledge and Brittany, entranced, followed her. She sat on the ledge, the cool concrete refreshing against her flushed skin. She tried to follow Santana's line of sight, but Santana was simply looking out into the distance. She caught Santana staring at her through the corner of her eye a couple times, mostly because Brittany was doing the same.
"You're going to teach me how to kill someone," Brittany broke the silence with the thought that had been plaguing her mind.
"Yeah," Santana nodded while avoiding her cerulean gaze.
"Have you?" Brittany asked her. She couldn't finish the question, so she just left it hanging, hoping Santana would understand her.
"Yeah," Santana drawled out the word and looked at her oddly. "The Games. Didn't you see?"
"No," Brittany answered and she felt her cheeks flush pink in embarrassment. "I didn't watch. I couldn't."
Santana didn't say anything after that and Brittany was grateful. Instead, she turned her head back to the horizon, which was darker because the sun had set.
"What are you looking at?" Brittany inquired, trying to follow her line of vision again.
"Home. Can you see it?" Santana smiled and Brittany felt like her heart was going to burst. Santana pointed out into the distance, but all Brittany could see were buildings.
"No," Brittany answered. "I can't see it."
"Neither can I. It's nice to pretend," Santana admitted. "But that doesn't mean that it's not there."
Santana turned to meet Brittany's cool blue gaze. Brittany saw as her eyes traced over her body slowly before meeting her own once again. When the sad chocolate brown eyes met her deep blue ones, Brittany saw something different in them. The pupils of her eyes were dilated and Santana looked… lustful. Brittany felt something inside her ache, knowing that a simple look over of her body caused Santana to feel that way.
Brittany bent her head and leaned closer to Santana. Their lips were mere centimetres apart and Brittany could feel Santana's breath on her. She saw Santana beginning to retreat, so Brittany shut her eyes and pushed her lips forward. She captured Santana's plump lips between her own and she swore, she felt heaven in that moment. She pulled away after a few seconds and licked her lips, tasting a hint of something sweet on her tongue. She looked up into Santana's lust-filled eyes and began to push her lips toward the brunette again, but was met with air. She opened her eyes in surprise and saw Santana stepping off the ledge. She began to walk toward the elevator and Brittany felt panic rising in her stomach.
"I thought about you every day since you left three years ago." The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them. "When I walked to school or the pier where we used to go after school, but mostly… Mostly, I would think about you when I was sleeping."
Santana stopped moving at this point. Brittany saw her hands curl into fists and uncurl.
"I would dream about you and me and-"
Brittany's sentence was cut off by Santana's lips mashing against her own. They massaged against her own before pulling away and pressing quick pecks to her mouth. Brittany's hands found their way into Santana's thick head of hair and began to tangle themselves in long tresses. Santana pressed her lips to Brittany's again and Brittany felt something warm and wet trace along her lower lip. She opened her mouth eagerly and couldn't help the moan that came out of her when she felt Santana's tongue against her own. Santana pulled away and leaned her forehead against Brittany. Santana breathed heavily, as her fingers traced Brittany's face, as if she was checking to make sure she was real. When she spoke, her voice was thick with unshed tears.
"I missed you so fucking much."
So that was chapter five :) I hope you guys liked it as many of you were anticipating Brittany and Santana's first real interaction...