Hello!
First things first- I've discovered the beauty of the 'Insert Horizontal Line' button. So here's to more sophisticated paragraphing!
So this is chapter #2 dealing with the Mash-off episode. There will be three chapters centred around it.
I've been seeing expressed in the reviews that you guys can't wait to see Santana get Finn back and I totally agree but I felt like if I tried to write a confrontation scene it may take away from the meaning of the actual ones in the show which I'm building these chapters around. But believe me when I tell you I would love to have Santana go full Lima Heights on his ass.
And I so feel the pain that some of you expressed in Santana doubting that Britt loves her back. I just tried to imagine all the mess of emotions that Santana must have been feeling and I think that is something that eats away at her a lot seeing as this is the first time she's really trusted someone.
Oh and, between the end of the last chapter and the start of this one, the 'outing' took place...Just to orientate you.
Once again, reviews are freaking awesome and you guys are awesome and woo! So thank you very, very much for your time.
Please excuse any mistakes in this chapter- I'm uber tired and wanted to get this up a.s.a.p so haven't gone over it as fully as I would have liked.
Also. Also also. If anyone is remotely interested in seeing my face/exploring the extent of my obsession with Brittana then feel free to check out my tumblr (the link is now on my profile)
Aannnd. Yeah, that's it. I hope you enjoy this one!
Ch 12: Someone Like You
Some people say that your life is one big teaching mechanism- that there are things to be taken away from what happens to you so that your soul can become closer to being complete.
That, once you've learnt all your lessons, you go on to a better place.
Personally, Santana thought these people were full of shit.
Because, what happens when one moment undoes a whole life's worth lessons? How can anyone explain away that one moment which picks you up and tosses you off your tracks like a matchbox car?
What the hell does it say about your learning process when one moment teaches you that everything you thought you knew was wrong?
In one moment, Santana learnt that stares had a tangible weight. She learnt that her stomach swooped lower on the curve of words than any sudden dip in the road. She learnt that falling on your knees didn't just happen physically.
The raised pitch of Finn's words hit her right in the middle of her back. Had they been bullets, they would have gone through her heart, punctured her lungs and broken her ribs.
Her spine curved at their impact, her shoulders hunched in around her.
She would never have picked Finn as a marksman of any skill. But she couldn't have lined the shot up better herself.
Santana learnt that what hurt most wasn't the moment itself but what followed after- when Finn and Rory had left her standing in the hall way, shell shocked and blinking in the beams of forty or so stares. When she tried to make her legs work but found they had been swallowed by that mid-pins and needles nothingness and she stumbled into the lockers nearby with a thundering clang.
Santana used every ounce of grace she could scrape together to get her down the hall way and out into the car park.
Sudden impulse made her veer away from where her car was and head blindly for the bleachers. With everyone going to their home room classes the field and track were deserted, and the bleaches stood with their benches wide, white and empty.
Santana reached the first stair up to the rows and bent to the dirt before it, retching until she was sick.
Leaving the mess, she wiped her mouth with a shaking hand and started up the stairs until she reached the very top corner.
She sat down and retched again, but wasn't sick.
The screen of her phone looked oddly distorted as she tried to type a message. It came out all wrong so she pressed the call button instead. It rang and rang and rang until-
"Santana? I was in homeroom. Did you pocket dial?"
Santana opened her mouth to speak but accidentally began to cry instead.
"Santana….?"
Santana sobbed noisily into the speaker, her nose running, her body back and forth against the wire meshing she leant against.
"What's wrong? Where are you?"
Santana held back her sobs with all her might and said- "Bleachers."
Mercedes took the bleacher stairs two at a time to reach Santana at the top. She sat down, puffing slightly, her eyes searching Santana's face.
"What the hell happened?" She asked anxiously.
Santana took a shaky breath, opening her mouth to speak but the tears took over once again.
Mercedes put a hand on Santana's back and started rubbing slow circles. Gradually, like a tide, Santana's tears receded and her voice ebbed back in.
"I broke my promise." She said dully.
Mercedes looked at her like she'd just spoken gibberish. "Promise...promise...What promise?"
"To you guys. About laying off Finn."
Mercedes drew back slightly, frowning. "So? Girl, who cares! It was kind of inevitable that you would break it. There's no need to…"
"No, no no." Santana was shaking her heads, her voice thickening with fresh tears. "That's not...That's not why I'm upset. Finn...he…"
Hey Santana, why don't you just come out of the closet?
You know, I think I know why you're so good at tearing everybody else down.
It's because you're constantly tearing yourself down because you can't admit to everybody that you're in love with Brittany and she might not love you back.
That must hurt not being able to admit to everyone how you really feel.
You know what I think you are? A coward.
Mercedes was staring at Santana, wide eyed. Santana dropped her head in her hands, exhausted from having to relive it. She could barely believe that it had actually happened. Sharing it with one more person just made it that much more concrete. Mercedes began again with the circles on Santana's back.
"Are you going to go to Principal Figgins about it?"
Santana shook her head in her hands.
"I don't want to make it any bigger deal than it is."
"Santana, what he did is harassment. It's the sort of bullying Karofsky got expelled for."
Santana shook her head again.
"He's not going to get away with it. But I'm not going to Figgins about it."
There was a long pause and Santana tried to concentrate souly on the soothing heat of her palms against her forehead.
Far off on the other side of the field, the bell for first period rang inside the school. Both girls ignored it.
"Are you going to tell Brittany?" There was hesitance in Mercedes voice. Santana guessed she was scared to pick apart the reasons Santana had called her instead of Brittany.
She shook her head for a third time, still not looking up.
"It'll be too much for her," she said dully. "I don't want her to worry."
She might not love you back.
"Santana," Mercedes dead panned. Santana huffed a sigh and looked up, squinting slightly in the light.
"She's your girlfriend," Mercedes pointed out, with the air of a person teaching a two year old what a door was. "Look Santana, I know you're used to relationships that are all bang and...well just bang. But you know that Brittany means more to you than that. And I know for a fact that Finn doesn't know what he's on about because Brittany loves you. And I mean yeah, maybe that's not as comforting when you take into account that she also loves Sugar's singing, but you...girl... you've gotta have seen the way she looks at you. Finn didn't need to point that out to the whole corridor because she can't help but make it pretty obvious ."
She did not allow Mercedes words to sink in. She stayed silent, her eyes drifting out across the road where cars swished past infrequently. Her shock was receding and her calculating kicked in.
Yes, Finn had racked a hand down all of her buttons at once. Yes, he had proved that he could beat Santana at her own game. But there were certain ways that Santana could make this mess manageable. For one thing, she still had the rumour that Rachel was secretly a man tucked into her repertoire and god knows that it would seem far more plausible to the student body than what they had heard from Finn about Santana.
She took a shaky breath. And yes, Finn may have been right about her being a coward. But she knew where she could get some fire-hot courage.
With a plan moulding in her head, Santana carefully wiped the corners of her eyes. She drew her finger away and saw it smudged black. Cursing, she turned to Mercedes.
"How bad?" She asked, indicating her eyes.
"Nothing a bit of tissue paper and a recoat can't fix," Mercedes said dismissively. "But make-up isn't exactly the most pressing issue to deal with here is it?"
"Nope." Santana stood up and adjusted her Cheerios skirt. "You and I are going to take a drive to my cousins house."
When Mercedes opened her mouth to protest, Santana held up a hand.
"Don't want to hear it. We'll be back in time for second period so don't shit your pants just quite yet."
"I really should go to first period too…" Mercedes was longingly look back across the grounds. Santana whirled around and looked down at her.
"Look," She tried to keep the pained expression away from her face. "I'm not good with thank you or anything. In fact, I'm pretty sure that I'm actually allergic to gratitude. But…" She turned her eyes to her sneakers. "It was cool of you to miss homeroom for me. And I… I kind of need a break from everything. And you're one of those people who adhere so ridiculously closely to Hollywood stereotypes of their race that being around you helps me to believe that stuff from the movies is actually real. That way I can escape into the Godfather or something."
Mercedes blinked. "I think I'm supposed to be offended at that."
"Probably," Santana shrugged. "But that's not the point. I'm trying to get it through your skull that I need a distraction and that I want it to involve you."
Mercedes looked up at her, began to speak and then stopped and set her lips together. Santana smirked as she watched Mercedes give her a curt nod and stand up, slinging her bag across one shoulder.
"Fine. But just so we're clear...this is me being a better leader than you and supporting a member of my Troubletones."
Santana rolled her eyes. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."
They started off down the stairs, Santana still feeling a little weak and shivery from the tears. The field was quiet and deserted still, but in the changing rooms on the other side Santana could hear the squeals and laughter of a class getting changed for p.e. They veered away from the school, wordlessly agreeing to take the back way to the car park so they wouldn't get caught. Half way there though, Mercedes had begun to get anxious.
"If we get caught we can just say that you felt sick and the nurse wasn't in her office so I was just going to drive you home. Or we can just say that we're just grabbing books out of your car. Or...Or we could just tell them what happened with you and Finn and then I'm sure they'd let you go…"
Santana rounded on her, making her skid abruptly to a halt.
"Ohmygod. Please stop. You will not go all panic room on me do you hear? Believe me when I tell you I have far more illegal things in store for us tonight than skipping a period of school."
"Oh hell no." Mercedes was glaring at Santana. "I'm not doing anything to Finn's house or his letterbox or his car…" Her eyes suddenly widened. "Especially not his car. Mr Hummel already thinks I'm crazy after I smashed the windows on Kurt's."
"Your finest moment as far as I'm concerned," Santana said, spinning on her heel and continuing to lead Mercedes to the car park.
"Santana I'm serious!" Mercedes called warningly. "I ain't doing anything crazy."
Santana rolled her eyes and turned back around.
"We are going to my cousins. We are getting a buttload of tequila and fake . Then tonight we're going to a swaggy bar and getting our dance on so that I can forget how incredibly shit my life just became."
"What about Brittany?"
Mercedes question stilled Santana and suddenly the tears were back like an old habit. She blinked to keep her eyes clear and took a steadying breath.
"Brittany lives in a beautiful world, I've told you that before. She's all 'second star on the right and straight on till morning'. You can't mess with that. And I refuse to be the one that messes with that. Okay? So please, just. Stop." Her voice, to her fury, cracked on the last word.
Mercedes held up her hands, appeasing her.
"Alright, alright. I can't believe I'm actually agreeing to this."
"I hate this town. I hate it. This is utter bullshit." Santana slurred, kicking bitterly at a stray stone. She missed and stumbled awkwardly.
Once she had righted herself she shivered and curled her arms tighter around her chest, wishing she'd brought a cardigan with her. Her sequinned dress was supposed to be short and sexy- two qualities that worked together in cancelling out any hope of warmth.
Her cousins stupid fake hadn't worked anywhere. Not even in the old man bar they'd tried as a last ditch attempt.
The copious amounts of tequila they'd consumed earlier in Santana's bedroom had left her with blurry vision and no measure of the volume in her voice. It had left Mercedes giggly and unhelpful.
While Santana had hoped the alcohol and beat of music and whirling bodies all around her would help dull the ache inside her, the absence of the latter two had simply cause the alcohol amplify it. She had this dark nugget of resentment hardening in her chest, catching in her throat every time she took a breath. She wanted to scream into Finn Hudson's face. She wanted to scream with her fists.
And then, standing in that dark, cold car park outside Lou's Lounge, a wave of remembrance rocked through her.
Brittany's speech for the Senior Class President debate tomorrow. Santana's promise to help her.
Brittany.
She whirled in the darkness, panicked into thinking it might hold some way to fix this mess. All she saw was the dim outline of Mercedes stumbling over to a nearby rubbish bin, laughing.
"Imcalling...Shane." She hiccuped over her shoulder at Santana.
"Do you have my phone?" Santana was sifting desperately through her clutch which contained only cards, a compact and lip gloss.
"Huh? Nooo. I have..." Mercedes drew the phone away from her face and peered at it. "...mine! I have mine. Oh...Oh...Hel- Shane? Shaney! Shaney my big chocolate-Huh? Oh am I shouting?" Mercedes giggled."I need you because you have a car and because I think you have big muscles and you need to help us." She dissolved into a fresh round of giggles. Santana rolled her eyes and then began scanning the ground around for her own phone.
When she established it hadn't fallen to the gravel around her she cursed, feeling hot tears clogging her throat. As she stood back upright a cloud of tequila fumes wafted up to her head and she stumbled against a parked car nearby, barely able to hold herself up.
She swung against it, her knees forgetting what they were supposed to do, and then her butt connected with cold, unyielding concrete, her breath leaving her at the impact.
One spinning moment later, Mercedes dropped down beside her with an "ooff."
"Shane is coming to getus because he loves me," She slurred.
Santana felt relief wash over her. Phone or no, she had to make this right.
It wasn't long until the headlights of Shane's car ignited the car park and Mercedes and Santana went stumbling to them, blinking in the brightness. Santana lay herself heavily across the back seat, trying to use long deep breaths to give her thoughts more substance than the whiffs of understanding she was getting now.
"Where am I taking you?" Shane glanced over his shoulder to Santana.
"Santana livesa coupla blocks away from me…" Mercedes garbled, leaning across the centre console and clutching Shanes arm.
"No. No I'm not going there. I need to go…" she looked vaguely out the window, trying to remember the address. Suddenly, her eyes purchased on a bus stop with a painted mural of school children. It was so familiar and she gasped as she realised how perfectly close they actually were. "Take a...take a left here…" She directed, sitting up straighter, adjusting her dress.
Ever since Santana had known Brittany, her family had left their spare key in the hollow of the trunk of the small tree planted in the garden beside the front door.
Santana had always disliked retrieving it, worried she'd enrage a family of squirrels and get rabies. But it turned out drunk Santana laughed in the face of the angry squirrel family . She plopped heavily to her her knees in the damp bark and stretched her hand into the hollow, feeling about for the jagged edges of the key.
After a moment she drew away in triumph, the key snaked onto her finger by it's rusted key ring.
The inside of the house was dark and warm and smelt like mixed herbs. Santana stole quietly through the foyer, overly conscious of her breathing shattering the sleepy silence.
At the bottom of the stairs she paused and looked down the hall into the blackness to where she knew Rory's room was.
She almost took her foot off the top stair.
Almost.
But the thought of Brittany's sleeping form somewhere above her- warm and sweet smelling and soft- exerted the pull of a freight train upon her body and she took the stairs as quickly as she could.
Opening Brittany's door was exhilarating and terrifying.
Inside was dark and quiet, perfumed by the smell of Brittany- her shampoo, her sleepy breath. Santana shivered and crossed the room quickly to the dark shape of her bed. When she reached the empty side, she stripped off her dress and kicked off her heels, sliding sideways under the blankets.
The softness of the mattress made Santana feel floaty and warm and excited. She leant over Brittany and called her name. When Brittany didn't stir, Santana edged her hand under the covers to the bare curve of Brittany's hip- exposed by her tank top that had ridden up. The contact of Santana's palm against Brittany's hot skin was like a hit of something- it came with it's own spinning high, it's own way of tangling all Santana's nerves together.
She inhaled against the back of Brittany's head, taking in the smell of her. And the rhythm began to beat in between Santana's legs as her hot breath on Brittany's neck reached Britt somewhere in sleep and she shivered against Santana. Santana inched her hand across Brittany's hip and up to the bottoms of Brittany's breasts- swelling hard against one another because Brittany was curved on her side.
Santana felt Brittany's breathing stagger as she slipped her hand further up and lightly grazed a nipple with her palm.
Then Brittany was inhaling consciousness and turning, dazed at the heat of Santana up against her. Mumbling in disorientation and bewilderment, Brittany turned in her back, blinking into the darkness. Santana took her hand away from Brittany's breast and anchored it around her side.
"Shh Britt, it's just me."
Brittany's muscles relaxed at the sound of her voice, but Santana could still see her squinting up at her blearily in confusion.
"Britt?" Santana slurred.
Brittany blinked at the sound of her name and then wrinkled her nose as Santana's breath washed over her face.
"Santana? Whatareyou...You-you... smell like…"
"I've had a few drinks," Santana admitted, edging closer, her eyes on Brittany's lips. "I came here because I lost my phone and I needed to see you."
She leant down to kiss Brittany and when their lips touched Santana felt herself turn to liquid against her underwear. But after a moment she realised Brittany's kiss was only half enthusiastic and Santana ended it abruptly, peering down into Brittany's face, trying to focus on it long enough to place the expression upon it.
"I called you like a million times and texted you and everything. I even tied a letter to Lord Tubbington and told him to go to you like a carrier pigeon." Brittany's bottom lip was curving out and Santana felt her insides tug from guilt. She dropped her head down onto the pillow beside Brittany's and stared into her face.
"I forgot that we'd planned to write your speech tonight didn't I?"
"Yeah," Brittany whispered back shakily. "You did."
In the summer, the sun trailed freckles along the tops of Brittany's cheeks and the bridge of her nose. But now that it was autumn, and close to winter, they had faded. For some absurd reason this came into Santana's mind as she lay drunkenly taking in Brittany's face. After a beat Santana realised that tears were snaking sideways down Britt's face where those freckles should have been.
Santana insides seized.
"I'msosorry. I'ms so, so sorry," she garbled. Tears were trailing thickly through her voice as she watched Brittany's throat work to control her own. Santana rushed closer, snaking her arms around Brittany, planting her lips over and over again on the wet skin of her face.
She began to babble- the fear and the glide of alcohol through her head letting the words come out uncensored.
"I didn't want to hurt you and I didn't want to mess this all up and I didn't want them to take you from me. So I had a go at them and...and...and then Finn was saying all this stuff in front of everybody about how you didn't love me and how I should come out and that I'm a coward. And I…" She began to cry, her chest constricted harshly in the memory of what she was saying. "I just got so scared and I didn't want you to be scared as well so I didn't tell you and I went and got drunk and now...and now I let you down when I was trying so hard to just protect you."
"Santana." Brittany was staring wide-eyed into her face, her own tears stopped dead. "Santana, stop. You're not making sense." She reached out to grip at Santana's flailing wrists. "Y-You thought Finn and Rory were going to take me from you?"
Santana took a shuddering breath. "I heard them the other day talking about it. And so I knew I had to get them back and so I had a go at them in the hall way today."
Brittany's eyes were roaming over Santana's face, her grip curving tighter around Santana's arms.
"And he told you to come out?" She prompted in a voice wavering with emotion. Santana nodded. Brittany's voice became thinner. "And h-he told you that I didn't love you back?"
Santana closed her eyes against the fresh tears but they came anyway.
Then Brittany was the one crushing their bodies together, her arms forming a bind around Santana's back, her fingers gripping into Santana's skin. Santana let herself sink into Brittany's warmth, inhale the scent of her neck. She let the comfort swell around her and beat back the tears. Her breathing became more even and the whirling in her head lessened in frequency.
When she felt like she could handle the world outside the Never Never Land of Brittany's arms, Santana lifted her head out of the crook of Brittany's neck and looked up.
Brittany was looking back down at her.
"How did you get yourself so muddled up?" She asked, tweaking Santana's nose gently. "How could you even think for a septillionth of a second that I would be too scared to be there for you? I'm not like Ghandi… I people before my presidential campaign. And I put you before people."
"So I'm-I'm not a person?" Santana sniffed, a small sly smile twitching on her lips.
"No silly," Brittany shook her head vehemently. "You're everything."
And then, she bent her head closer and kissed Santana.
Brittany could kiss like she was singing onto Santana's tongue. There was nothing quite like the way her lips worked- the way she seemed to know when to deepen it and when to pull away. Tonight she kissed Santana as though she was trying to coax all the hurt out and swallow it. Make it her own.
Santana melted into Brittany, her body completely undone as Brittany rolled on top of her. They kissed until Santana felt like she was going to pass out from lack of oxygen and then just in time, Brittany breathed for her, expelling the air from her lungs hotly into Santana's.
Brittany's hands were everywhere- she must have more than two, Santana thought blearily. They cradled Santana's breasts, they trailed down her ribs, her stomach. Her thighs.
When Brittany removed her mouth from Santana's own, Santana felt a pang of loss but then it's sweltering warmth was tugging at one of Santana's nipples and she lost the world around her for a moment.
When she came back to, sensations were rushing around her body and she didn't know what to feel first. The lap for Brittany's tongue at her breasts. The soft scatter of her blonde hair against Santana's throat. Or, her fingers. Her fingers- edging their way under her underwear, slipping over her wetness, circling her clit until the breath left Santana and she moaned loudly.
Brittany lifted her head and caught the sound in another searing kiss. Santana moaned again against the press of Brittany's lips and wrapped her arms around Brittany's shoulders.
She'd never been anyone's like this before.
Brittany was tugging away at Santana's underwear, still kissing her. Santana tilted her hips and helped kick them off and then, gloriously, Santana felt that dull twinge as Brittany slipped her fingers inside of her.
Santana opened her legs wider, her fingernails raking at Brittany's back.
Brittany tugged her fingers back and forth deep inside Santana- hitting a spot that made Santana go blind . She rocked her hips against Brittany's hand and opened her mouth as Brittany kissed her more desperately than she ever had before. Their mouths and tongues clashed together clumsily, hungrily. And pleasure was working itself like a switchboard through Santana's body as Brittany surged deeper inside of her, rocking her own hips against her hand.
Through this rush, through all the madness and haste, Brittany pulled slightly out of their kiss but stayed upon Santana's lips, murmuring against them.
Santana was too far gone to instantly pick up what she was saying- her eyes had rolled back in her head as she felt all her muscles draw into themselves in anticipation and somewhere above Brittany's fingers, a rising tide of pleasure.
But gradually, after they'd been repeated enough times, her brain untangled the sound of Brittany's words.
I love you. Said again and again.
Brittany's rhythm against her lips, made to match the strokes of her fingers.
"I love you. I love you." Her voice was cracked, her breath mingling against Santana's own jagged gasps.
Santana pitched over the edge, losing everything to the thundering release. She wanted to tell Brittany she loved her back but she had no words amidst this. Dimly she thought, there would be time afterwards.
There would be so much time.