After lunch, they head in their separate directions. When Brittany's next class ends early, she reluctantly decides to call her mother to tell her about her Thanksgiving plans. Expecting her mom not to answer, she's fully prepared—and prefers—to leave a voicemail, but no such luck.
"Hello, Brittany."
"Oh, I...hello Mom."
"Do you need something?"
Even though Brittany didn't call just to chat, that still stings a little. "I just wanted to know your plans for Thanksgiving, because—"
"I had meant to call you but completely forgot. Your father and sister and I are going to visit some friends for the holiday. Do you have a friend you can stay with? If you don't have anyone to stay with, you could come home, I guess, but we're having the floors refinished, so you'd have to use the basement. I wish you would've stayed friends with all your friends from high school, Brittany."
"I have someone to stay with." Don't let this bother you, Brittany. Don't get upset. Don't let this bring you down.
"Oh, is it a boy?"
"No."
"Okay. I have to go. I will talk to you sometime soon. Bye."
With that, the phone goes dead. Taking a deep breath, Brittany reminds herself, Mom doesn't care, but Santana cares. Sam cares. Mercedes and Quinn and Rachel and Kurt care. She makes herself think about all the wonderful things she'll get to do with Santana and how much time she'll get to spend with her over break.
To Santana: I can't wait to spend break with you. And tonight. And for as long as you want me.
A response comes through after only two minutes.
From Santana: I will always want you, B.
She takes a few minutes to take comfort in that text message. Then, she hears her phone ring and assumes it's Santana but reads the caller ID to see Tina. "Hey Tina, what's up?"
"Not much! I was just talking to Mike, and since you don't have a choreographer, that means you don't have a costume. I was wondering if you'd like me to make you one? It's good for my portfolio, and it'd be something you don't have to worry about."
"That sounds awesome, Tina." Brittany tries to force some enthusiasm into her voice.
"Cool! I need to take your measurements sometime soon, and maybe come with Mike to watch you practice and get a feel for your piece. Would tonight work?"
"I'm not rehearsing tonight. I need a Santana night really bad. But I'll text you and let you know when I'll be rehearsing next, okay?"
"Sounds good. I'm really excited to work with you, Brittany! Have fun with Santana."
"Me too. Thank you! Have a good day." The phone call momentarily cheers her up, but she still feels down from the conversation with her mom. She knows she shouldn't be surprised or hurt. She doesn't even think that her mother meant to hurt her feelings. Her mom just doesn't think about it...or her. That's what hurts the most. Picking up her phone, she hits her most frequently dialed number.
"Hey baby. What's going on?"
Hearing Santana's voice breaks what little reserve she had. She can feel her eyes burn with tears. "Hi. I just wanted to talk to you. Missed you."
"You sound down, baby. Is something wrong?"
"What are you doing? Can I come over?"
"You can, but I have piano rehearsal soon. I can cancel if you need me to?"
"No, it's okay, I forgot about rehearsal. I'll meet you at the theater after. Good luck, babe."
"Are you sure? If you need me—"
"No, I promise it's fine." She tries to keep her voice cheery so Santana will believe her.
"Okay, babe. You can come a few minutes early. Sometimes we're done then." Santana can tell something's wrong, but without seeing her girlfriend, she's unable to determine the severity. Plus, Brittany said it was fine, and she should trust Brittany.
"I will. See you later."
"Bye Britt."
When Brittany gets off the phone, she grabs her stuff and heads to her last class of the day, during which all she can think about is her mom. She desperately tries to rationalize herself out of being upset, to no avail. After class, she goes back to her dorm room to see Rachel sitting on her bed, wearing headphones, and writing furiously. Brittany raises her hand in greeting and flops onto her own bed.
"Hello Brittany. Did you stay at Santana's last night?"
"Yeah, I was kind of a mess. Working too hard."
"I agree you are. How was your day?"
Brittany hesitates. How had her day been? It had been fine, good even, except for the conversation with her mother. Could she talk to Rachel about it? They are friends, after all. "It was okay, except for a phone call with my mom." She goes with vague. If Rachel cares, she'll ask, and if she's too busy, then she'll just leave it be.
"Would you like to talk about it? The conversation with your mother?" Rachel seems like she genuinely wants to listen.
"You don't mind?"
"Of course not." Rachel gets off her bed, crosses to Brittany's, and sits next to her. "What happened?"
"Well, I guess my family and I don't have the best relationship. I don't really fit in." She tries to give Rachel enough backstory without having to explain her entire life. "I don't talk to them very often. Anyways, Santana invited me to spend Thanksgiving with her, and I said yes, of course. I thought I should at least tell my family I wouldn't be home. I didn't think they'd care...so I guess I don't know why the call made me so upset. But when I asked my mom what they're doing, she said they're going away with my sister to see friends. No one even told me. What if I hadn't called? When would they have remembered I exist? Why didn't they invite me to go?" Brittany feels herself tearing up again.
Rachel takes one of her hands in both of hers. "Did you say anything to her?"
Brittany shakes her head no. "She just said I should find a friend to stay with, or I could stay in the basement."
"The basement?!" Rachel imagines her basement, full of spiders and Hanukkah decorations in near-equal amounts.
"Our basement is like a small apartment. It has a fridge and microwave and bathroom and stuff, so it wouldn't be the worst thing ever. I told her I'm staying with someone, and she asked if it was a boy, and I said no. Then, she just said she had to go and hung up."
"I'm sorry, Brittany. I don't know anything about your situation, but I do know that if I were in your place, I would definitely be hurt too."
"Yeah. I just don't understand why this happened. Like, why am I not important enough to at least text?"
"You are important enough, Brittany. Ask Santana how important you are. You're one of the nicest people I know and one of my best friends. I wouldn't even have any other friends if it weren't for you. I think you're very important. And I bet Sam and Quinn and Mercedes and Kurt and Blaine and Mike and Tina all think you're important." Touched by her words, Brittany looks at Rachel. "As you know, I'm adopted, and I've never once doubted how much my fathers love me. Family has nothing to do with biology. Sometimes, they pick you, and sometimes, you pick them. If your family doesn't appreciate you for how amazing you are, pick a new one."
Brittany's tears start to fall down her face, and she folds herself into a surprised Rachel, who takes it in stride and hugs the taller girl back. After a few moments, Brittany lifts herself back up and wipes the tears from under her eyes. She decides that Rachel is right; she has people here, real friends, that are better than anyone back home. And Santana. Santana is the best thing that's ever happened to her and the best thing that ever will happen to her.
When she thinks about it that way, she has way more to be happy about than upset over. "Thanks, Rachel. I'm glad we talked about this." Rachel's answering smile makes Brittany think that Rachel is glad they talked too. For the next few hours, Brittany showers, and then she and Rachel chat about their favorite movies and respective departments. "Other than Mike, I don't really know a lot of people in my program. Plus, getting the solo hasn't helped me make friends with the other first years."
"They're just jealous, Brittany. I can tell you from personal experience that it is very difficult being so much better than other people, but I deal with it as gracefully as I can." Rachel nods her head solemnly.
Brittany nods as well but is trying desperately not to laugh. "Oh Rach, I've got to go meet Santana. Thanks again!" After another quick hug, she leaves the dorm with her bag and runs to the Theater building. Once inside the lobby, she grabs one of her books for class and starts reading. She's so lost in her thoughts and the book that she doesn't hear the door open.
"Hey baby," Santana says softly, not wanting to scare the blonde.
Eyes wide, Brittany looks up, puts her book down, throws her arms around the smaller girl's neck, and gives her a quick kiss on the lips. "How was rehearsal, San?"
"Fine, as usual. I just sit behind a piano and play the same thing over and over. What about you? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. We can talk about it if you want, but I'm okay. Want to go for a drive before we head to your place? I just want to spend some time with you."
Nodding, Santana takes her hand and pulls her out to the car. She's anxious; Brittany seems okay, but she felt guilty and worried the entire rehearsal.
As Santana starts driving in the first direction that occurs to her, Brittany can't help but notice she seems distracted. "What's wrong, baby?
"Just worried. You sounded sad earlier."
"Yeah, I was. I talked to my mom and found out that they're visiting friends during Thanksgiving break. They never invited me or even told me. Then, when I told my mom I have a place to go, she didn't ask anything about you or your parents or anything. I was just kind of hit with the sadness of her not caring about me."
"Oh Britt." Santana looks at her, eyes full of pity and sympathy. "I should have been there. I'm so sorry. I—"
"No, it's okay! I talked to Rachel. She said some things that made a lot of sense, and I feel a lot better now."
While Santana is happy that Brittany feels okay now, there's a small part of her that's a little jealous. She wishes she could've been the one to cheer up her girlfriend. Beyond the (admittedly ridiculous) jealousy, she also feels like a complete jerk. She should have been there. "You amaze me, B. Every single day. You're so strong and smart and beautiful that sometimes, I don't even know how to process it all. I feel so lucky that someone like you chose someone like me."
Brittany shakes her head. "You amaze me too, San. I feel lucky every day, so I guess we're even there."
Just like that, Santana is distracted from her guilt, and both girls fall into a comfortable silence.
The closer it gets to performance day, the more stressed Brittany gets. Luckily, she sticks to the schedule that she and Santana made, and the structure definitely helps. She tries to remind herself to be confident in her choreography and dancing. Mike has been really supportive and helpful, and Tina has also seen her piece and said it was beautiful.
Despite having sent her parents a quick email inviting them to the dance concert, she hasn't heard from them since she talked to her mother about Thanksgiving break. While she'd fully expected them to come up with an excuse not to attend, she hadn't expect to get no response at all. Still, she tries her best not to dwell on it. She's choosing her own family.
A few days before dress rehearsal, she receives a text from Tina asking her to try on the costume she made for her. Rachel, who's with her, asks if she can tag along. Since Rachel has been obsessing for days about an upcoming audition, Brittany thinks it might be a good distraction and readily agrees.
When they arrive at the costume shop, Tina is waiting with a garment bag. "Hey Brittany, Rachel. Let's go to one of the dressing rooms." Once there, she pulls the bag off the dress, and a huge smile breaks out across Brittany's face. "Put this on, and I'll check the fit. We can step outside so you can—" Brittany has already started whipping her clothes off and is soon standing there in just her bra and underwear. "Oh. Okay, nevermind."
"Brittany just does that. She's not shy. Trust me." Rachel tells Tina as Brittany puts on the dress and steps in front of the mirror.
"Tina, it's perfect." She does a little twirl, and the fabric floats around her. The costume is a simple light blue dress, sleeveless, with an empire waistline and a v-neck. The chiffon fabric is beautiful and airy, perfect for her lyrical choreography. It ends a little higher than mid-thigh, accentuating Brittany's long legs and beautiful lines. Truthfully, it could almost be lingerie if it weren't so pretty. Although it shows a lot of skin, it's not slutty at all. "I love it! You're amazing."
Tina smiles bashfully. The theater students aren't usually this appreciative.
"It really is wonderful, Tina. I haven't seen the dance yet—Brittany has been pretty secretive—but the costume looks wonderful on her," Rachel gives her input.
"I think so, too. Thank you both. Britt, could you try part of the dance, especially some of the floorwork? I want to make sure it falls back down when you stand up." Tina and Rachel step back, and Brittany does a section of choreography that involves her flipping upside down, laying on the floor, then standing back up. When she goes upside down, the dress lifts to the bottom of her boobs, restrained by the empire waist, and as soon as she stands up, the silky material slides back down. "Perfect. I'm really glad I got to help you with this. Keep me in mind for your future solos, yeah?"
"Always, Tina. And I will recommend you to everyone. This is amazing!" the blonde squeals and jumps up and down, clapping her hands, before flinging herself at Tina in a hug. Brittany's really excited now. It's all starting to feel more real. In just a few days, she'll perform it for the rest of the people in the show and the professors. Most of all, she's excited to show Santana and the rest of her friends.
The night before first dress, Brittany is a ball of energy. Santana had insisted she sleep over, unconvinced that Brittany would even bother to lay down if she stayed in her dorm. As they're getting ready for bed, Santana wants so badly to touch Brittany, to have Brittany touch her. They haven't had time or energy to do much lately. She's really looking forward to Thanksgiving break.
They've long since abandoned all formality of pajamas. Most of the time, they wear nothing but boxers and panties to bed, both finding the exposed skin preferable. Brittany is in the middle of the room, stretching and talking herself through something she'd been confused about in class that day, while Santana is in bed waiting for her finish. The brunette is trying desperately not to get hard, but a nearly-naked Brittany is in front of her, displaying all kinds of mindblowing flexibility. "Baby, please get in bed...I can't watch you do that. We need to go to sleep."
Brittany looks at her with genuine confusion. "Did I do something wrong?"
Santana laughs at her innocence. "Britt, what would you do if I was standing in front of you with just boxers on, doing stretches, and we hadn't been able to have sexy time in almost a week?"
"I would kneel down and blow—oh. Yeah. Got it. Sorry babe!" She jumps into bed and onto Santana. "We don't have to sleep. We can do that. I can do that to you."
"No. You need to settle down and get some rest, and if we start, I don't think I'll be able to stop. I want you for, like, hours. Let's just cuddle." Santana opens her arms, and Brittany dives into them, snuggling into her girlfriend's naked chest and laying kisses over her heart. The Latina laughs and starts dragging her fingers through Brittany's silky hair.
Brittany immediately feels herself relax in a way that only Santana can do to her. "Sing to me?"
"Sure. Any requests?" Brittany shakes her head no. "Hmm." She starts humming the beginning notes of a song. "The first time ever I saw your face, I thought the sun rose in your eyes. And the first time ever I lay with you, I felt your heart so close to mine." Santana feels moisture in her eyes. This song feels so raw, so honest, in a way she wishes she could be. She wishes she could just tilt Brittany's face up and tell her that she loves her, but she's terrified of scaring Brittany away. She doesn't want to ruin what they have, which is already so close to perfect.
Towards the end of the song, Brittany feels herself drifting to sleep as Santana's fingers trace hearts into her back. She still can't stop her internal battle over whether or not it's too early to tell Santana how she feels. Nodding resolutely into Santana's chest, she decides that she'll tell her soon.
When they wake the next morning, Santana is proud and relieved that Brittany slept through the night, despite the amount of anxiety and excitement running through the girl. The blonde stretches out on top of her, laying kisses all over her neck and face. While Brittany is a morning person, Santana is the exact opposite. However, she's gotten used to early mornings, because when Brittany stays over (which happens at least four nights a week now), she gets up and drives Brittany in, not wanting to make her girlfriend walk in the cold. Most of Brittany's classes are earlier than hers.
After several minutes of ridiculous stretches, Brittany literally bounces out of bed. "I think I'm going to walk in, San. Get out some of the energy. So you stay in bed."
"You sure, B?" Santana mumbles sleepily, peering at her girlfriend over the pillow her face is pushed into.
"Yeah, I feel buzzy right now. I won't be able to sit through class if I don't walk."
"Okay." Santana watches Brittany flit around the room gathering clothes, practically salivating over Brittany's naked body until she finally puts clothes on.
When Brittany returns from the bathroom, she drapes herself over Santana and kisses her for all she's worth. "I'm going to stay at my place tonight, but do you want to get dinner?" Santana nods, kissing her again. "Yay! Gotta go, gonna be late. I'll see you later!"
"Bye baby," Santana says, still dazed with both fatigue and arousal. After Brittany leaves, Santana drags herself out of bed. She needs to get in the shower and do something about the morning wood that's showing no signs of going down on its own.
Brittany thinks she may as well have not gone to class for all she hears and remembers. The entire day flies by. Dinner with Santana is filled with nervous chatter and almost no eating for Brittany. Santana forces her to eat a banana and a few bites of cereal, but that's the best she's able to do.
After dropping her stuff off at her dorm and getting a good luck lecture from Rachel, Brittany walks to the dance building, where she sees Mike as soon as she walks in. "I am so nervous, Mike. So so so nervous. What if they hate it?" she asks, referring to her professors and the upperclassmen who will give her feedback. She starts fidgeting with the plastic covering her costume.
Mike grabs her hands to still them. "Stop, Britt. I'm your friend, right?" Of course he is—one of her best friends, even. She nods. "I would've told you if they weren't going to like it. I've been here for a year, so I've got a general idea of what they like. Okay? They'll just give you feedback, and you don't even have to listen. It's just suggestion. I've seen plenty of choreographers nod and smile and then ignore it all. So take a deep breath, calm down, and show them what you've done. I'm already so proud of you; you should be too."
Brittany looks at him for a second, then, in signature Brittany fashion, launches herself on him into a hug. Brittany hugs with her entire body—her entire existence, really. She throws herself at people and trusts they'll catch her, which he does, then spins her around for good measure. "Okay. I got this. I got this."
And she does. Her dance is third to go, and Mike sneaks into the house to watch her piece. Despite literally bouncing off the walls backstage, Brittany is controlled, graceful, and so beautiful in her movements. When she hits her ending pose, he glances at the professors and notices that none of them are talking. They all have not-so-subtle smiles on their faces, and he's pretty sure he sees one of them quickly wipe a tear from her eye.
Once everyone is done, the performers sit in the house, the professors standing in front of them with their scary clipboards and their judging faces. Brittany wraps her arm around Mike's, clutching it like a lifeline. He just shakes his head. She really has nothing to worry about, he thinks.
Starting with the first dance, the professors provide their feedback, then open up the floor to the other choreographers and dancers. For the most part, fhe first piece is well-received, a few small suggestions but nothing terrible. The piece before hers isn't so lucky; the professors tell the choreographer that it looked underprepared, that she hadn't thought through the piece enough, and that she hadn't given her dancers enough instruction. Some of the students comment that it looked sloppy. As the second critique comes to an end, Brittany starts to panic. Her breathing quickens, and Mike takes her hand and tells her to calm down. She tries. And fails. Oh god, it's her turn.
"Brittany. I am surprised."
