"What songs are you going to play at open mic on Wednesday?" Brittany asks Santana at dinner on the first day back to school. They've already talked about their classes, which all went fine. Syllabus day is never difficult. For the first time in her life, Brittany is kind of excited for the new semester. Both of her non-dance professors pulled her aside after class to discuss her accommodations. They were really nice and understanding about the extra work to help her, and it's nice to not feel like a burden.
"I shouldn't tell you, just like you wouldn't let me see your dance." Santana smiles, popping a tomato into her mouth.
"At least tell me what kind?"
"Rap."
"Really?"
"…no. But I should try it sometime."
"Totally." Brittany tries to drop it, but she's too excited. "Tell me, San!"
"How about I tell you two of the four?"
"Okay."
"First is 'Dust in the Wind' by Kansas, and second is 'Wagon Wheel' by Old Crow Medicine Show."
"I know the first one but not the second. When have you been practicing? I'm with you, like, all the time."
"I know them all really well, so I don't need to learn them. I practiced this morning while you were in class, and I'll keep practicing until Wednesday. I worked on them at home too while you were hanging out with my mom."
"I kept trying to catch you playing, so I could be sneaky and figure out the songs." Brittany pouts, but Santana just laughs.
"Baby, you are the least sneaky person ever. I love you so much, but you are definitely not sneaky." She takes a drink of water and puts her hand over Brittany's before changing the subject. "Are you nervous about tutoring tomorrow?"
"I thought I would be, but no. I'm mostly excited. I really hope they can help me."
"They can, B. They exist for a reason. Remember, if things aren't going well, my dad can call and make sure you get better help." After they finish eating, they clean up and leave. Santana assumes that Brittany will come home with her. "Want to watch a movie?"
"I do, but I have to go back to my dorm first. I need to do laundry, and I haven't seen Rachel. Is that okay?"
"Yeah, of course. I should practice anyways."
Brittany can tell that Santana isn't being totally honest. Truthfully, Brittany doesn't really want to go back to her dorm either, but Rachel asked, and she has some research to do that she doesn't want Santana to get embarrassed about. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah babe. Positive."
They part after a hug and several kisses. When Brittany gets back to her dorm, Rachel is on the phone with her dads, so she decides to get started on her research. She isn't exactly sure where to start, so she simply opens Google, types in "anal sex," and hits the "I'm feeling lucky" button. Big mistake. After hitting the back button in her browser, she hits the "search" button instead. After wading through a lot of porn sites that make her slightly uncomfortable, she finally finds a website with some useful information. Next, she researches sex toys. It's kind of overwhelming, how many different kinds and colors and shapes there are. After almost an hour of searching, she decides to take a break and takes her laundry down to the laundry room.
When Rachel returns to the room, she expects Brittany to be there. She's not, but there's evidence of her having been there. Her book bag is on her desk, all the clothes that were piled on her bed are gone, and her computer is on. Curious, Rachel glances at the screen. Strap-ons. Oh. That makes sense; it must be a staple of lesbian sex, right? Well, if Brittany is buying one for her and Santana, then it's something she should probably look into for her and Quinn as well.
Before they know it, it's Wednesday. Santana is thankful that she can play and sing these songs in her sleep, because she hasn't had a lot of time to practice. Brittany seems to be excited about tutoring, but from what she's told Santana, it's only been introductions and discussions about learning so far. Brittany's workload hasn't really gotten heavy yet, so until it does, Santana reserves the right to judge.
Even though she isn't needed to help Brittany with her homework now, she still feels as busy. She receives a homework assignment on the first day of class from a professor who genuinely seems to dislike her. "He called me up and asked me to play a piece that I haven't even thought about since the year before. Still, I played fine, of course—"
"Of course." Brittany nods with a slight smile.
"I'm not trying to be cocky, B. It's just not hard for me. I've been playing since I was three. But he told me it was subpar, so I played it again, and this time, I was sure it was perfect. Again, he said it could use some improvement. I don't get it."
"Is he like that with the other students?"
"No! That's what pisses me off. He tells them their mediocre performances are improving or doing well. Then he tells me that I'm not practicing enough, so he's going to check my logged hours in the practice rooms. He said that he might start setting a minimum for certain people, meaning me, and if we don't reach it, it'll affect our grades."
Brittany is as confused as Santana. She's heard her play piano, and while she's no expert, she knows it sounds beautiful and effortless. Santana can just sit there at a piano, and while holding a conversation, play entire songs without even paying attention. Over break, Maribel showed her videos from Santana's first recital when she was five. She already played better than some of the kids two or three times her age. "Maybe he's jealous?"
"I don't know why he would be. He's the teacher, I'm still the student."
Brittany shrugs. She doesn't really know either. "Is it bad enough that you think you need to talk to another professor about it?"
Santana sighs heavily as she sifts through a drawer looking for another guitar pick. "I don't think so. Maybe it'll pass."
Brittany steps behind her and puts her arms around Santana, laying little kisses to the back of her neck. She feels Santana's tension melt away a little. "I'm excited for tonight. Are you?"
"I think so. I'm kind of nervous. I don't want to mess up in front of everyone. Or you." They hear a knock on the door just before Quinn walks in. "What if we'd been naked?"
"It would've been funny to watch you scramble for sheets. Can I borrow your car?"
"Mhmm. Where you going?" Santana replies distractedly. Brittany is currently stretching, and honestly, you can't blame her for being distracted.
"Mall. Oh my God, Santana. Stop, you're drooling. Do you guys want to go with?"
Santana reluctantly tears her eyes away from Brittany and looks at Quinn. "Can't. Gotta practice for tonight." She looks at Brittany, who's standing there biting her lip, clearly conflicted. "Go ahead, babe. I have to focus on this, and you distract me. Can you bring me dinner on your way back?" Brittany nods. "Need money?"
Brittany shakes her head. "Nope, I still have the money your dad forced on me before I left."
"Just let him, B. That's what he does. It makes him feel like he's taking care of us even though we aren't there. He still gives Gabe money when he comes home, and he definitely doesn't need it. Now give me a goodbye kiss. Quinn is waiting."
While at the mall with Quinn, Brittany is content to look and not buy, except at the candy store, because how can anyone resist there? On the way back, they stop at the requested Taco Bell for Santana ("Don't ever tell my mami"), then head home. Santana is sitting in the living room, still playing her guitar, when they get back. She's already changed and looks like she's ready to go.
As Santana stands at the counter eating her tacos, Brittany just stares at her, unable to help herself. Santana is wearing skinny jeans with flats, a tank top, and a black blazer, and she looks absolutely beautiful.
"What's up, Britt?"
She'd been caught. "You're just so hot," Brittany replies truthfully with a shrug. "And your butt looks amazing in those jeans."
"Britt," Santana whines, bashfully looking down at her food, unable to keep the smile off her face. "Did you get anything at the mall?"
"Candy."
"Did some of it make it home this time?" Last time they went to the mall, Brittany bought a lot of candy and managed to eat it all before they got home. For the rest of the night, she was curled into a ball on the couch with a terrible stomachache.
"I learned that lesson." Brittany grimaces, recalling the memory.
Finally, it's time for open mic night. Quinn and Brittany are there, of course, and so are Mercedes, Sam, Kurt, Blaine, and a few other people from the LGBTA group that they almost never attend anymore. After saying hi to everyone, Santana goes to check in. They sit through a few not-so-great performances and a couple decent ones before it's Santana's turn. When her name is announced, Brittany stands up, clapping the loudest by far; she's already so proud.
"Um, hi everyone. This is my first time playing in this kind of situation, so...I hope you enjoy. Here's the first song. Hopefully you all know it." Santana proceeds to play what Brittany thinks is the best version of "Dust in the Wind" she's ever heard. As she plays, the room is almost completely silent, but it erupts into the loudest applause when she's done. Of course, Brittany is on her feet, beaming at Santana. "Thanks, everyone. Next is another cover. Actually, they're all covers. This one is 'Wagon Wheel' by Old Crow Medicine Show. Feel free to sing along." People do. The energy in the room is wonderful, though Brittany kind of wishes they'd sing less so she can hear Santana better. Oh well, lucky for me, she thinks. I get to hear it anytime I want.
"This next one is fun, a little out of genre." Brittany realizes that she doesn't know the next two songs Santana is about to play. At first, she doesn't recognize it, but then Quinn laughs and shakes her head.
"What?" Brittany whispers, still unsure what the song is.
"It's Beyonce. She turned Beyonce acoustic." That's when Brittany begins to recognize the words to "Crazy in Love."
When she looks back at the stage, Santana is smiling at her. She does a little wave in response and can't help but dance in her seat a little. After the song ends, everyone applauds the loudest they have yet, which makes Santana laugh.
"I was hoping you'd like that. This next song, my last one for tonight, is for someone very important." She winks at Brittany, who feels her chest swell with love and mouths "I love you" to Santana onstage. "It's called 'Paperweight.'" Brittany hasn't ever heard the song before, but she has heard Santana play it on the guitar without singing it. She tries to focus on the words but gets lost at some point, because Santana is looking at her like she's the only thing that Santana can see in the whole world. Santana doesn't take her eyes off Brittany the whole time she's singing. When it's over, Brittany wipes a tear from her eye. "Thanks, everybody. It's been awesome."
As Santana leaves the stage with her packed-up guitar, Brittany watches her get intercepted by a girl she doesn't recognize. She assumes she's in the Music program with Santana and goes back to throwing little paper balls at Sam. After a few minutes, Quinn informs her, "Someone's hitting on your girl." Brittany looks back up, and the girl is standing awkwardly close to Santana, who looks like she's not sure how to get away. "She has nothing on you."
"I know. I'm going to go rescue San, though." Brittany climbs over the others in the booth with a grace that shouldn't be allowed and makes her way to Santana. "Baby, you were so amazing! I loved that last song." She puts her arms around Santana and kisses her deeply. When they break apart, the girl is no longer standing with them. Brittany just laughs. "I'm sorry your friend left." She doesn't sound very sorry.
"I'm glad you liked the song. Yeah, I don't actually know her...she just wouldn't stop talking to me. I was trying to get back to you guys."
"She was hitting on you. I didn't like it."
"Oh, really? I didn't even notice, because I just wanted to get back to you."
"Mmm, is that so?" Brittany smiles as she leans in for another kiss.
Once they pull apart, Santana becomes very aware that everyone is now watching them, so she bashfully climbs into the booth with Brittany, successfully hiding them from prying eyes a little. Her friends congratulate her and tell her how amazing she was. They all decide to stay and watch a few more performances, but Santana spends the rest of the time distracted by Brittany, who can't seem to stop looking at her or giving her little kisses.
"I really liked 'Wagon Wheel,' San. I think that was my favorite," Quinn states.
"Thanks, Q. It would've been better on a ukulele, though."
"You can play a ukulele?"
"Pretty much anything with strings." Santana shrugs. Brittany doesn't understand how this girl doesn't realize how amazing she is. However, saying something would probably embarrass her, so she just settles her head onto her shoulder and grasps her hand. "Are you staying at my place tonight?" Santana whispers into her ear during the last singer of the night's set.
"Of course. I have to stay at mine tomorrow, though. Rachel wants to do roommate nights on Monday and Thursday, which I thought would be okay, since you have night classes on those days." Santana cuddles closer into Brittany, happy that she gets her for tonight but, as always, unhappy about the nights they'll inevitably spend apart. Still, does that mean Brittany will stay with her the other five nights a week? She hopes so.
They spend the drive home talking about the other performers and how, of course, Santana was the best. Santana doesn't contribute much, mostly because she can't keep her eyes off Brittany. Quinn knows that look. As soon as they get inside, and Brittany and Santana hurry to their room, Quinn immediately goes into hers, puts in her new noise-canceling headphones, and tries to resist the urge to leave and go to her own girlfriend's dorm.
Friday morning, Brittany wakes up and goes about her normal routine. Eat cereal, get dressed, check email. She has one email that isn't junk: one of her dance professors is asking if she can come by at some point today. That makes Brittany a little nervous, but her teacher didn't ask her to make an appointment, so maybe it isn't too serious. She thinks she's doing really well in her dance classes so far. It's only the first week, but she senses that these classes won't be any harder than the ones last semester.
After her morning dance class, she stops by the office suite. Her professor's door is closed, and the secretary tells her that she's on the phone and will be off in a few minutes. As Brittany sits down to wait, a boy she's never seen walks in. He's bulkier than most male dancers, tan, with a mohawk. "I don't know where this class is," he says, handing a piece of paper to the woman behind the desk.
"Dance for non-majors meets in room 107, which is directly down the hall on your right, sir. You passed it walking in."
"I probably did. I just really don't want to be here. Football coach is making me, says I need to learn a little grace." The boy leans over the desk and winks at the secretary. "How about we work out a little arrangement? It's only an audit. I just need a signature that says I attended these classes." Brittany almost laughs out loud. This guy is ridiculous.
"How about go to class?" The secretary responds without pause. When the mohawked boy turns around, he sees Brittany sitting in her chair. She doesn't like the way he checks her out so obviously.
"Name's Puck, sexy. And you are?"
Luckily, at that moment, she sees her professor open her door and wave her in.
"Taken," she replies, then walks into her professor's office.
"Please close the door, Brittany."
Brittany does as she's told. "Did I do something wrong?" she blurts out. This feels an awful lot like when she would get pulled into the principal's office for failing yet another test.
"What? No! Not at all. The opposite, actually. I wanted to offer you a job."
"Huh?" That isn't what she was expecting at all.
"We teach children's dance classes here on Saturday and Sunday mornings. Unfortunately, the woman who teaches the 3-5 year old movement classes is moving. That class is a lot like what we do in improv classes: movement games, improv exercises, things like that. I've noticed that you have a lot of patience when helping some of the other students, and I thought this would be a great opportunity for you to start your teaching resume. What do you think?"
"Would I be teaching on my own?"
"Yes. The current teacher will be there for another three weeks, so you can assist her and learn the ropes during that time, but after she leaves, you'll be on your own. I have full confidence that you'd be able to handle it, though." Brittany smiles. That feels nice, to have her professor's full confidence. "So are you interested?"
"Very." She pauses to think about it for a second. "Could I first run this by my tutor to make sure they don't think I'm overloading myself?"
"Absolutely. When do you see them next?"
"I can stop by today to ask them about this."
"Great! If we see you tomorrow, then I'll assume you'd like to be involved. I hope you do, Brittany. I think that you would excel at teaching," she tells her sincerely.
Brittany thanks her and leaves the office to meet Santana for lunch. As she's walking out, she sees the mohawked boy—Puck or whatever—leaning against the wall. "Shouldn't you be in class?" she scoffs as he catches sight of her.
"I wanted to apologize. You seemed offended."
"I don't like being looked at like that. It's rude."
"I was just appreciating. No need to get mad." He chases after her as she walks quickly towards the exit.
"Appreciate someone else. I am already plenty appreciated."
"I thought all dancer dudes were gay."
"SHE is not a dancer. She is a musician." Brittany stops and turns to face him. "Now please go."
"Ohhh so that's why you weren't interested. I get it."
Brittany rolls her eyes. "Whatever. I'm leaving now. Go to class."
"I'll see you around, blondie." Brittany almost turns back to yell at him for calling her "blondie" but decides it's not worth it. Instead, she just keeps walking, eager to meet Santana and tell her the good news.
Santana is excited that Brittany's excited and glad that she would have a bit of income. It makes her nervous how little money Brittany has from her parents. What if something were to go wrong? Of course, Santana would give her anything she needed or wanted, but she can tell Brittany feels bad and often outright refuses her money.
Brittany's tutor thinks it should be fine. She shouldn't have to spend all day Saturday and Sunday studying if they're doing their job correctly. Wanting to celebrate with Santana that night, Brittany sends her a text.
To Santana: Sooo I got my first job today. That deserves celebrating, doesn't it? Your place tonight? I have to get up early for work, but I miss you.
From Santana: I have to log hours in the rehearsal room, but I'll call you when I'm done? I'll pick you up. Congratulations again, babe.
Brittany decides to go to the gym to kill some time. When she's back in her room and showered, she texts Santana to ask if she knows what time she'll be done, but gets no reply. Against her own will, she falls asleep at about 11 o'clock.
Santana has played the same song a million times, trying to get it completely perfect. At this point, she's heard it so many times, she honestly can't tell if it's perfect or if it's absolutely terrible. As she's signing out, she checks her phone to see that it's past midnight, and she has a few missed texts from Brittany. Immediately, she calls to tell her she's done, but Brittany doesn't pick up. After driving to Brittany's dorm, she calls again, but there's still no answer. Her anger starts to rise. She missed time with Brittany, time she should have spent celebrating something that her girlfriend is so proud of and excited for. She should have been there. In frustration, she hits the steering wheel with the flat of her hand, then takes a deep breath. Calling one last time, Santana gets her voicemail again.
"Hey baby. I'm so sorry I took so long in the practice room. I feel terrible. I can take off all day tomorrow if you want to celebrate. I'll take you to dinner or something. Good luck tomorrow. Call me as soon as you're done to tell me how it goes, okay? I love you so much, Britt. Bye."
Feeling defeated, she drives home and gets into bed, determined to make it up to Brittany.
