Santana hates watching Brittany at Motocross, always has done, and probably always will do, but that doesn't mean that she ever misses a race or a practice. Every Wednesday, she's here, flinching every time Brittany goes into a jump, giving out silent prayers for her to make it round the track in one piece. Brittany however is fearless, like she is when it comes to everything in life. On the rare occasions she does come off her bike, she's always back on her feet in seconds and ready to go again. For Santana however, it always takes another three laps before her heart will start beating again, and for her lungs to agree to take in air.
Today she feels more on edge than usual, though she isn't sure why. As soon as Brittany has finished and is pushing her bike off the track, she's making her way down the stand towards her, climbing over the barrier. Everybody here knows her, she's that much of a regular fixture, so nobody even tries to stop her.
"Looking good out there, Pierce."
Brittany stands her bike up, and then removes her helmet. "Hey. What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be in West Side Story rehearsals right about now?"
She can't help taking a moment to appreciate the sight of Brittany in her leathers, the one plus side of Motocross.
"You're not cutting already, are you?" She sounds a little disappointed and that snaps Santana out of the fantasy she'd been having. "Was Rachel really that bad?"
"No, it wasn't that. I just don't fancy being tied up every Wednesday with rehearsals, so I told Ms Pillsbury that it's when I volunteer at the hospital and voila, no more Wednesday rehearsals for me."
Brittany frowns. "But you don't volunteer at the hospital on Wednesdays. It's the one day of the week that we don't do anything, because I'm always here straight after school."
"I know." That's exactly why she wanted to get out of rehearsals. She hasn't missed a chance to watch Brittany race since she first took up the sport, not even in those dark days when she was dating Artie and they weren't even really speaking, she'd still come and sit in the stands, even if afterwards she would leave without even saying a word to Brittany.
She can tell Brittany doesn't understand her thinking here, but thankfully she doesn't question her on it. "And how did that go down with Rachel?"
"She may have thrown a teeny tiny diva tantrum, but she soon got over it when I pointed out the more rehearsals I attend, then the greater the chance of me killing the lot of them."
"What happened to you playing nice, San?"
"Hey, there's been no violence so far, has there?" She's been quite impressed with herself actually, especially over being able to resist the urge to wheel Artie off the stage at every opportunity.
"Okay, so I guess you get brownie points for that."
She's about to point out that she should get more than brownie points, but she's distracted by the sight of a blonde haired jock jogging over to them. She's seen him around the track before, and knows he's one of Brittany's fellow Motocross riders.
"Hey Brittany." He stops next to them, nodding a greeting to Santana.
"Hey, Chet." Brittany smiles at him, and that stirs something low in Santana's gut.
"That was some impressive times out there today. You made some awesome runs."
"Thanks." Brittany's eyes dart from him to Santana, and as if she's carefully watching her reaction, though Santana isn't sure for what. "I suppose you did okay. For a boy."
"So I was thinking maybe we should go get coffee some time."
She's hit with a strong desire to punch him in the face, but that little voice in the back of her head is telling her she has no right to, and telling her to stay right where she is, rooted to the spot. She's vaguely aware of Brittany moving closer to her and away from him, her gaze very much fixed on Santana, again as if waiting for something. When nothing happens though, she does turn to him. "Sorry, I don't drink coffee."
"It doesn't have to be coffee, we could go see a movie or..."
"I don't like movies."
He deflates a little, glancing back towards where a group of his friends are watching him crash and burn. "Well, hey, how about I give you my number, just in case you change your mind?"
Santana wonders if he's a boy scout as he's come prepared with pen and paper and he quickly jots down his phone number and presses the scrap of paper into Brittany's hand. "I guess I'll see you next week then." Then he's gone, quickly heading back towards the others.
Santana glares at his back, wishing that she had the power to make him spontaneously combust. "Can you believe that jerk? Asking you out like that?" She folds her arms. "Fucking idiot."
"Why is he an idiot exactly? Why shouldn't he ask me out?"
She spins around to face Brittany to find hurt in her eyes. Her face softens immediately. "I didn't mean it like that, B. Of course he'd wanna ask you out. You're like made of awesome. I'm pretty sure every guy here wants to date you." A fact that she really isn't happy about, and maybe that's one of the reasons why she feels the need to be here every week to keep an eye on them.
"And he is kinda cute."
Santana eyes narrow. "He's what now?"
Brittany just shrugs. "Is there a reason why I couldn't go out with him?" There's a challenge in the question, but it's a challenge that Santana isn't ready to face right now. Instead her shoulders slump, and she sighs. "No, Britt. There isn't a single reason why you shouldn't go out with him."
Brittany's still wearing that disappointed look and it tells her that wasn't the answer she'd been hoping for, but she really has nothing else she can offer her right now.
She gives Brittany a life home, but it's spent in silence. She keeps replaying that whole scene over and over again in her head, trying to figure out what it was that Brittany had wanted from her, had been seemingly waiting for, and then been so disappointed about when it didn't happen. She can't help wondering if maybe she should have hit him, or if that would have only made things worse.
Once they're parked up in front of the Pierce house, she switches off the engine, trying desperately to think of something to say, but Brittany beats her to it. "You wanna come in for a bit?"
She doesn't think that's a good idea. There's something here that she needs to figure out, something that she's been avoiding for a while now, and she thinks she needs to not be around Brittany to do that. "It's getting late. I'll pick you up in the morning, yeah?"
Brittany's face falls slightly, but she just nods. She moves to open the door but then stops, turning back to Santana. She fishes something out of her pocket. The scrap of paper with Jerkboy's number scribbled down on it. Brittany holds it out, making sure Santana knows what it is, then she rips it into two, then into four. She keeps going until the pieces are too small to carry on, then she reaches for Santana's hand and presses the fragments into it, closing Santana's fingers around them. She takes Santana's hand in both of hers and brings it to her mouth, pressing her lips against the back of her knuckles.
Santana doesn't say anything, once again she's not sure what to say.
And once again Brittany doesn't seem to have the same problem. "Just so you know, I can think of several reasons why I wouldn't go out with him, or anyone else. I just wanted you to name one, but it's okay." She leans over and kisses her cheek. "It's okay. I can wait."
As Brittany opens the door and starts to slide out of the car, she can't stop herself from asking. "Wait for what?"
"You're hopeless." Brittany just shakes her head, but she's smiling. "But I totally still love you." She climbs out of the car. "I'll see you tomorrow, San."
Santana watches as she walks across her lawn and disappears inside her house. She's trying to make sense of it, she really is. Of why she was jealous when Jerkboy dared to even talk to Brittany, let alone ask her out. Of why Brittany referring to her as her First Lady does strange things to her insides. Of why the idea of Brittany going out with anyone else makes her want to murder every single person on the planet, just to make sure that can't ever happen, and oh...
Suddenly she gets it. That voice in her head is screaming at her, calling her stupid for taking so long to figure it out. It can't be right though, can it? Is Brittany her girlfriend and she hasn't even realized it? Or maybe it's just that she hasn't allowed herself to even think it was a possibility, for fear of ruining whatever it was they were building up. Now that she knows, she's bound to panic and screw everything up. She's sure that's why Brittany hasn't said anything, not wanting to freak her out by putting a label on what it is they've been doing.
Or then of course, she could be totally wrong. It's not like she really knows what proper dating even looks like after all.
Her cell phone buzzes, shaking her out of her thoughts. She grabs it to find she has one new text message.
I love you, but you sitting outside my house all night is a little stalkerish. Either come inside or go home.
Part of her really wants to go inside, but she knows she needs to think this through, plan what she has to say, or she'll only end up blurting it out and that will only make her look like an idiot. No, she needs a plan. Yeah, she'll take Brittany to Breadstix after school tomorrow, buy her dinner and then casually slip it into the conversation. She can do that, right? She starts the engine and pulls away. Yeah, she's pretty sure she can manage this. If she can avoid having a panic attack for long enough to do so anyway.
Sue Sylvester refuses to stand by and let this happen. Not again. She lost three Cheerios to William Schuester and his rag tag band of misfits. She will not loose any more to Mrs Robinson and her Spice Girl wannabes, or whatever annoying girl power group they're trying (and no doubt failing) to imitate.
Children are fleeing in terror as she storms down the corridor, as they should be, and she takes great satisfaction in seeing them dive for cover. She can hear the warning shouts as people raise the alarm. Couch Sylvester is on a rampage. Run for your lives. She doesn't think she will ever get tired of this.
She spots Aretha and a girl she doesn't even care to know stood by the lockers and changes direction. Aretha looks like she's trying to decide if it's worth the effort to even attempt to run away. The other girl, who she thinks is another member of these so called Trouble Tones, must be new here as there is no fear in her eyes, she's just regarding her with curiosity.
She stops right in front of them. "Where are they?"
Aretha's eyes dart around the corridor. "Where are who?"
"You know who. Where are they?"
"How should I know? They're your Cheerios."
"Well unfortunately as Figgins refused my request to have all my girls fitted with GPS trackers, something about it being an invasion of civil rights, you're going to have to tell me where your co-conspirators are hiding."
Maybe this Corcoran woman has something with her feminine empowerment ideas, as Aretha seems to have suddenly grown a backbone, and just folds her arms, staring her down. "I told you. I don't know where they are."
This doesn't seem to have extended to all members of the group though. "They're in the bathroom." The strange girl nods towards the door at the other side of the corridor.
"Sugar!" Aretha glares at her teammate, but it has no effect.
"What?" The girl shrugs. "They are."
Sue turns on her heel and stomps over there, throwing open the door hard enough that it slams into the wall.
Santana and Brittany break apart as she enters, guilty expressions on their faces. She likes to think the guilt is because they know they've betrayed her and fear the consequences. Though more likely it's because she's pretty sure five seconds ago when she walked in, Brittany's tongue had been down Santana's throat.
The sex eyes they keep giving each other in Cheerios practice are bad enough, but if they're going to start being so careless with their fooling around, then how do they expect her to continue pretending not to know about them? Something she's certain that about ninety percent of the school is doing at this point actually, seeing as they don't even seem to be trying to hide it any more.
Anyway she has more important things to deal with right now. "Well, well, well, if it isn't my second favorite head cheerleader and her intellectually challenged friend thinking they can hide from me in the girl's bathroom."
Brittany frowns at her. "We weren't hiding from you, we were..."
Thankfully she doesn't have to hear how that sentence ends as Santana quickly elbows the blonde to silence her.
"You should be hiding from me after what you've done."
Both of them are keeping their eyes on the floor now. Oh yes, they are well aware of how they've crossed her. "Whilst I applaud you both for finally having the sense to abandon the sinking ship that is Glee club, doing so to then climb aboard another one is just plain stupid. And whilst I don't much care what you two choose to do with your time, I did not give permission for you to take any more of my Cheerios with you onto what is quite obviously the Titanic 2.0."
Santana raises her gaze to meet hers. "But Coach, we need more members to compete at Sectionals."
"Well then you'll just have to do what Schuester does and grab some random bystanders at the last second to stand and sway in the background. Because I will not let you recruit any of my girls into your singing cult."
"But we want to win." It surprises her when Brittany speaks, normally she's the silent partner, content to let Santana fight their battles for them. She has noticed that does seem to have been changing lately though.
"I'm sorry?"
"We want to win.
Of course they want to win. She teaches all her girls that from the very first day of practice, she just doesn't see what that has to do with them wanting to drag their team mates down with them. She glances from Brittany to Santana, hoping that the Latina will explain.
Thankfully she doesn't even have to ask.
"You always told us that the key to winning was to exploit your opposition's weakness. Well, New Directions weakness is that they can't dance. Without Britts, they've only got Boy Chang who can move. So I just figured we fill the group with Cheerios and we can't loose."
"Well of course you couldn't loose. They're Cheerios, they don't know the meaning of the word." Except for that rather embarrassing disaster at Nationals last year, but she refuses to count that. "Can any of them even sing?"
"They don't need to. We've got the vocals down."
Sue knows that what she means by that is her and Aretha don't want any more competition for the solos.
"What we need is dancers, and where else in this school are we going to find people that have got the skills we need?"
Sue will concede that maybe, just maybe Sandbags has a point. As soon as she suspects that a student has even a hint of talent, or is able to follow simple instructions (her coaching skills can make any one a champion if they can just do that), then she has that student signed up for her squad. So it does make sense for them to want to poach her star cheerleaders, and okay maybe she isn't completely opposed to seeing them crush New Directions into a bloody pulp live on stage. Anything that takes Schuester down a peg or two can't be all bad, and if that means sacrificing a couple of her Cheerios to the cause? Well she thinks she just might be able to live with that.
"Then I'm holding you personally responsible for anything that happens. I swear if your little group of Beyonce wannabes doesn't beat the Glee club, then your lives will not be worth living. Spending the rest of the year at the bottom of the pyramid will just be the beginning. Are we clear?"
Once they both nod, she turns and storms back out of the bathroom, once again slamming the door against the wall. She starts to make her way back towards her office. People are no longer scattering before her, but once she shoves the nearest student into a locker, that soon changes.
Maybe this school year might be interesting after all.
After their pretty damn awesome performance of Candyman, Brittany had been as surprised as everyone else when Santana suggested they all go to Breadstix. Well, actually the invitation had really only been aimed at Mercedes, but Santana had only grouched a little when Sugar had tagged along, and once Sugar had insisted she paid, then even that complaining had stopped.
Now Brittany finds herself sat in a booth, watching while Santana actually laughs and jokes with Mercedes. Sugar must find the whole situation as surreal as she does as she has somehow managed to keep her mouth shut all evening. Or maybe she just thinks that if she does speak, Santana might have reason to turn on her again.
"Gotta say, girls, we killed it up there. New Directions aren't gonna know what's hit them." Mercedes looks around the table, finally settling her gaze on Santana. "And I hate to admit it, but it was a brilliant idea to add some Cheerios to the group."
Santana shrugs, like it's no big deal, but Brittany knows otherwise. "Did you see Finnessa's face? I swear it was worth pissing off Coach Sylvester for that alone."
Sugar looks a little scared. "Shouldn't we be worried that she'll try to murder us in our sleep?"
Brittany is sure she flinches when Santana turns her attention to her for the first time since they got here. "Relax, Angelica. Me and Britts have got it all under control."
Sugar mouths Angelica at Mercedes who just shrugs. She doesn't feel the need to enlighten them.
Her and Santana had ended up sitting on one side of the booth, Mercedes and Sugar on the other, something that's been annoying her all night, as it's made it a lot more difficult to play footsie with Santana under the table. It did mean she was able to keep a hand on Santana's thigh though, or it did until she'd run her fingers maybe a little too high and Santana had almost choked on a meatball. She'd backed off after the warning glance Santana had shot her after that, but now they've finished eating, she twists in her seat, so she's mostly facing Santana, slides off her shoe, and stretches out a foot until she can press it against Santana's leg, starting at her ankle, and slowly running it up towards her knee.
To her credit, apart from her eyes briefly darting across to look at her, Santana manages not to react, just continues talking to the others. "I just think it makes a change having someone in charge who knows what they're doing. I swear Ms Corcoran is like the Yoda of show choirs or something. Whereas Mr Schue, is like Jar Jar Binks."
Mercedes shakes her head. "I don't know what is more weird about this conversation. That Santana Lopez is making Star Wars references, or that I understood them."
"Guess when you date Trouty Mouth, you can't help picking this stuff up. Did he make you sit through all six of those stupid movies?"
Brittany draws her foot away. She hadn't realized that Santana had ever spent that much time with Sam. She'd always just figured that he was just there for Santana to be seen with in public, like Puck had before him. She never thought for a minute that Santana had willingly spent time alone with him, never mind sit through not one Sci-Fi movie, but six.
"Yeah, he did. Twice. How many times did you have to watch Avatar?"
"God, I lost count. I really don't get what the big deal is with that movie. It sucked."
She doesn't like this, having to sit here and listen to Santana and Mercedes bonding over an ex boyfriend.
"Course, it didn't help that he spent the whole movie reciting the lines and doing his stupid impressions. Every single time. I mean, seriously, could he have been a bigger geek?"
Mercedes has fallen quiet and is now staring down at her empty plate. Santana looks to her as if to ask what she's done wrong here, but Brittany just looks away.
It's left to Sugar to break the silence. "Anyone want dessert?"
Nobody seems in the mood any more, much to Sugar's obvious disappointment. Mercedes says it's late and she needs to get home. Sugar offers her a lift and soon Brittany and Santana are left alone at the table.
As soon as the others have gone, Santana turns to her. "What the hell did I say? You saw I was on my best behavior all evening. I wasn't mean to either of them, kept my comments to myself, and they still bail like that? Seriously, what the hell?"
"I think it was you mentioning Sam."
"Why?"
"Because she's not over him."
Santana dismisses her with a wave of her hand. "Oh please, they were only together for the summer. How can she not be over him? Plus, come on, it's Trouty Mouth. There isn't exactly much to be over. The guy's got no moves whatsoever."
That does a little to curb her jealousy, just a little, but she still keeps her eyes focused on the table. She pushes what's left of her food around her plate with her fork. She's surprised when Santana takes hold of her hand, under the table of course, but still.
"I never slept with him."
She looks up now, her eyes instantly finding Santana's.
"I'm not sure if I ever told you that."
She hadn't. She never said that she did have sex with him, but Brittany had always just assumed she had. It makes her wonder about Karofsky as well, but thinks that's probably a question for another day.
Santana frowns, as if trying to work something out. "I let him get to second base one time but then I just started crying, and I couldn't even tell him why. I think I kinda freaked him out actually."
They don't talk about last year, most of the time they're both content to just pretend that none of it ever happened, so she doesn't say anything, just lets Santana continue, though she does squeeze her hand lightly.
"It wasn't working any more, you know? It wasn't enough to just pretend any more." Santana shifts in her seat, turning so she's facing her. "I think he felt sorry for me or something, as after that, we'd always just end up hanging out, watching stupid movies and playing stupid video games."
She's always suspected that Santana was secretly a complete dork. This is just further proof of that. She also suddenly hates Sam Evans a lot less, in fact she's grateful to him for trying to look after Santana when she couldn't.
"And I don't even know why I'm telling you all this."
She shrugs. "Because that's what girlfriends do."
Santana smiles now, no, she's practically beaming, a huge grin plastered on her face.
"What?"
"It's just..."
"What?"
"Girlfriends." She says the word as if she still can't quite believe it.
"Dork." She nudges Santana's shoulder gently with her own, and is rewarded with a laugh.
Santana pushes back, then sighs. "You still wanna get dessert? I'll pay."
"Would that make this a date?"
"Maybe."
"And does that mean you'll be expecting to get lucky afterwards?"
"Britt, I got lucky the day I met you, anything else is just a bonus." As soon as she's said the words, Santana's face scrunches as if she can't believe she just said that, and she shakes her head. "God, I don't even know what's got into me lately. Being friendly to Wheezy and Elmyra Duff, not making snide comments at every opportunity. And I think I might have actually smiled at Bilbo this morning and called her Rachel to her face." She shudders. "Although that did mean she refused to come within three feet of me at rehearsal as she said I was obviously plotting against her, so maybe there's something to this whole being nice to people thing."
She likes this new Santana, she does, but she also likes the vicious Santana who can have someone cowering before her just with a few well placed words. She loves them both and would never want to loose either. She's suddenly reminded of something. "Hey, did you do something to Rory?"
Santana picks up her glass and takes a long sip of water before answering. "What makes you ask that?"
"Well the fact that he won't be in a room with me any more. Last time I walked into the kitchen, he tripped over his own feet trying to get away." She gets her answer from the satisfied smirk that appears on Santana's face. "And just when I thought you were going to start using your powers for good."
"Yeah, well, maybe if he wasn't such a creepy little perv who was trying to make a move on my girl."
"Your girl, huh?"
"Yeah, my girl." There's that grin again. "Like I said, girlfriends."
She thinks she gets as much of a thrill hearing it said out loud as Santana seems to get from saying it. "How about we skip dessert and get to the part where someone gets lucky?"
Not surprisingly Santana doesn't argue with her.