Title: Above The Moon
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 12.7k
Summary: She really is here. Brittany is here, and you think over the past 10 years without her, trying to figure out how destiny didn't bring you back together sooner, but you guess it just wasn't the right time.
Notes: I'm slacking, I know... Sorry!
/
You and Brittany both decide you won't tell your parents until the end of the first trimester.
It comes sooner than expected, and before you know it, you're at the hospital for the 12 week check-up. It's an important one, as it's after this that the likelihood of miscarriages is dramatically reduced, and you hold Brittany's hand in the waiting room, pretending like you're not nervous despite your knee bobbing up and down continuously. She eyes you, giving you a comforting smile and her thumb strokes over the back of yours as her name is called and you both head on in.
She's still not showing, even though she's got a small curve on her belly now but the baggy clothes she's wearing more hide it, and you're nowhere near as freaked out as you were before. You've warmed to the idea, kept reading up on everything you can on paper and in its digital version, and you can see a little baby at the end of the tunnel when you think about it now, and it doesn't make you want to vomit everywhere from nerves.
However, the nausea comes back when you go back into the same room you were in before, staring at the sonograms and thank you cards you've seen before, but it's like you're looking at them through different eyes now and quickly disappears. They don't create that cold fear in your chest, and so you tilt your head and take in the information on the pamphlets that you've seen before, smiling when you think of the life inside the blonde sat on the examination bed behind you.
"Did you know the baby weighs almost 25g right now?" You read out; the words printed on a poster stuck to the wall.
Brittany giggles and scrunches her face up as you turn toward her, grinning widely – she does it straight back, and your stomach flips uncontrollably – before there's a knock on the door and two guys are walking in. One's wearing a doctors jacket over a shirt and jeans, and the other is in scrubs, and you frown when the younger of the two – in the jacket – beams a smile at you, eyes widening and doing even further so when they land on Brittany, forcing your tongue to the back of your teeth to hold back the snap.
You know he thinks Brittany's cute. He'd have to be gay not to and you're a little put off that your midwife isn't here too and swaying the stare away as you've become friendly with her, so you can totally pretend that's the reason you're scowling as it's obvious you are. Especially when Brittany clears her throat, and you have to make your gaze fall to the floor even though biting his head off wouldn't be inappropriate.
What is inappropriate is this little turd checking Brittany out during a pregnancy check-up and that almost leaves your mouth.
"Brittany Pierce," the guy in the scrubs reads off the clipboard in hand and the closer he gets, the more you can focus on his name badge. It reads Dr Howell, and you take a second to drink him in. He's kind of attractive and now you're even more irritated as there's two good looking guys in the room with a single Brittany, but you try not to let it show. "You're here for your 12 week appointment, I see," he continues, flipping down a piece of paper and sidling up to the bed, gesturing to the guy beside him. "This is Jean Baptiste. He's pharmaceutical sales rep and is shadowing me today if that's alright with you both."
Of course he's a sales guy and of course it's not okay with you but it's not you it needs to be okay with; it's Brittany. The guy looks about twelve and has a face ass that you'd probably find cute on a girl, but it's not on a girl so you can totally dislike him for more than one reason now. His eyes haven't left Brittany since he walked in the damn room and if it were up to you, you'd make sure he'd never see again but that probably wouldn't be welcome, so you bite your tongue again and hold back the urge to slap a bitch as Brittany nods her head.
(Although you are in a hospital, so it seems fitting.)
"Sure," Brittany chirps and leans back into the bed, clasping her hands over her belly. "Nice to meet you, Jean."
Jean grins sloppily and peers over Dr Howell's shoulder at the top of the clipboard, scanning it quickly. "You too… Brittany," he shoots back, after apparently not listening to Dr Howell when he first said her name. He was probably too awe stricken by the sight of the blonde and damn… He's really testing your restraint.
So you can't really be to blame when you clear your throat loudly, earning his attention to introduce yourself. "Santana Lopez," you grit out, and three pairs of eyes flash to you, two with shock and one with an understanding that was formed years ago, but the same also with disapproval.
"How have you been feeling?" Dr Howell continues after a quick smile flashed your way, coming closer and unhooking his stethoscope from his neck, putting the buds in his ears, and pressing the metal to the space above Brittany's chest, clipboard tucked beneath his arm now.
"I'm okay," she retorts, and you switch your attention to her, knowing that's not entirely true and frowning straight at her.
For the past couple of weeks it's been a little rough. Brittany's been getting morning sickness, heartburn and constipation and feeling a whole mess of crap that no over-the-counter pregnancy safe medicine seems to fix. You haven't been stuck to each other, but you've been around each other's places a lot, not staying over as you don't want to tempt the devil – the hormones are beginning to kick in again – and it's been good, but even without constantly being by her side, you know that she's been struggling as you never stop talking. You're always texting or calling or popping over after conveniently being around Brentwood.
"She's been having the usual side effects," you choose to announce, arms folding over your chest as you look back to the doctors. Brittany wasn't going to say it, so you will. "Morning sickness, heartburn and stuff."
"That's totally normal," Dr Howell confirms, retracting the stethoscope and putting it back where it was before, giving the blonde that soft doctor smile. "Otherwise, have you been feeling healthy?"
"Yeah."
"Great," he confirms and grins. "You're looking great, and don't worry about not showing yet," he leans over, patting her hand and your entire body tenses when she doesn't instantly push him away. You can't help it. The guy's kind of hot in a silver fox type way. "Some people are lucky like that."
Brittany laughs, which makes both of the guys do the same and your eyes flash to Jean when he laughs a little too loudly. You have no reason not to like him really, if you weren't being childish and pathetic, but he's already beginning to irritate you and hello? The guy is a pharmaceutical sales rep. That jobs is solely for pieces of shit that literally convince medical professionals to buy crappy pills that rarely work effectively, just to get a greedy pay cheque at the end of the month.
"Today we'll be testing you for a couple of things today like Down's syndrome, any infectious or inherited diseases," Dr Howell explains, glancing back down to the clipboard he's holding once again but his words fall short when he reads something, brow furrowing. You still too, but you understand when he glances up to you, then Brittany, then back down to the page and well, he did just say inherited diseases, so you guess he's just read about you being the other parent. "And Santana is… the other mother?" He asks, stuttering over his phraseology as you guess the word 'dad' or 'sperm donor' would be entirely incorrect, but you can't hate him for that. It must be confusing at first.
"Yes, but we aren't together," Brittany answers and the words make your head whip around, neck clicking at how fast the motion was as the second part of that sentence wasn't entirely necessary, but it's not like you can say anything. You aren't together, even if you wish she'd just lie so that jackass across the room would stop fucking looking at her.
"You're not?" Jean pipes up, and you swear to God you're going to shove his balls down his throat if he shows any more interest.
You look back at him, unable to control the way your eyes narrow and mouth turns into a too-sweet smile, fully knowing how fake it's coming across and totally meaning to do so. You don't give a shit that he's seeing it, and shifting uncomfortably under the stare as that was the intention, and he's lucky you've got Brittany kicking you in the top of the thigh or you'd launch across the room and tell him to keep his hands and eyes to himself with your fist around his scrotum.
This is not only inappropriate, but entirely unprofessional and you know you and Brittany have had the talk about dating and that you two are still allowed to, but not this guy. Not now, in the middle of a fucking appointment. You can't even begin thinking about it, let alone seeing it.
"No, but we're having the baby together," you choose to answer, cocking your head to the side quickly and hoping that your true words of 'back the fuck off' comes across. Judging by the way Jean sucks his lips into his mouth and nods his head sharply, you think it does and Dr Howell scribbles something down on his clipboard before changing the subject.
You don't stop staring at the jackass though.
/
A little while later, and a lot of holding back at the light flirtation going on between Jean and Brittany – she isn't swaying him off, so you find no reason to jump in – the hospital appointment is over.
You find it strange that she'd be like that with you like, right there, but you know you had the talk and you're allowed to do shit like that and so is she. There's many, many years of crying at night and dirty diapers and this is prime time to venture out into the dating world as that's not something that'll come easy when the baby arrives, but you're still pissed. Pissed that she can laugh giggle with a fucking sales rep, to the awkwardness of everyone else in the room, and you can't say a damn thing about it.
That energy seems to reflect in your body language as you leave the hospital, arms wrapped around yourself, jaw clenched, and eyes trained on the direction you're walking. Brittany hasn't said much to you but keeps fucking looking at you every two seconds which makes your feet forget how to move in sync, and the third time she does it, you almost walk into a trash can on the sidewalk and that makes her finally talk to you.
"Are you okay? You've nearly fallen over like, three times since we left the hospital."
Your press your lips together, because that nearly made you smile, but hold strong. "I'm fine," you grit out, but she knows you far too well to believe that.
"San," she warns, her voice low and you finally look at her, finding blue eyes inquisitive but knowing and that just pisses you off more. "Talk to me."
You don't want to, mostly because you're being stupid and irrational and you want to lie, but you know she'll call you out on it anyway. "That sales rep sure was friendly," you drone sarcastically as it's the best way you can explain it.
Brittany stops walking, but you only notice when there's a beat of silence too long and stop in your tracks, peering over your shoulder to find her smiling at you in a half-amused, half-empathetic way that makes you feel like you were being unreasonable. You were, but you don't want to admit that.
"He was… Not that you gave him a chance to be to you," she quirks, brow lifting, and it makes you swallow the objection. "You could've been nicer to him, you know," she adds, one side of her lips pinching up at the side. "He wasn't that bad."
You scoff loudly. "Wasn't that bad, my ass," you repeat, rolling your eyes. "He was totally inappropriate, and you were letting him be that way."
"He was cute," Brittany reasons and you can't control the scoff that leaves your mouth, heat flooding to your cheeks when you realise how loud it was.
Shit. You need to say something.
"He was inappropriate," you fire back, head bobbing up and down and you know you have a point she can't fight. Hitting on a patient? No. Scratch that. Hitting on a freaking pregnant patient with their baby momma right next to them? "That was straight up bullshit."
Brittany doesn't say anything, and you think the conversation is over, so you begin walking and feel her catching up beside you, but you know the last words that left your mouth came out a little more aggressively than you're used to being towards her, and when you peer at her, you see her shoulders pinched together. She used to do that when you argued, back when you were teenagers and guilt pangs your chest as you let go off the stubbornness inside and know you have to apologise.
Except she speaks first, and you're suddenly glad you didn't say sorry because you were obviously reading her wrong.
"I'd probably go out with a guy like that."
The way she said it was casual, so you control the anger that ignites inside your chest at the statement because you really thought she had better taste than that, and instead choose to slow down so she can catch up and you can get a better look at her face. She doesn't look guilty, nor does she look like she's about to take back what she said, and it hits you hard in the gut, but you can't feel like that. You're not allowed to. You two aren't anything more than people having a baby together with a past relationship and a relatively strong friendship now, so you have no right to feel that way.
So you play it off, trying to seem chill about her poor choice in men. "Really?" You quirk, voice a pitch too high. "He's a sales rep for drugs that don't work and cost a bomb," you state, face deadpan and trying to convey that you're just being a judgemental best friend instead of an irrationally jealous ex-girlfriend. You're kind of both.
"I didn't say I'd marry the guy," Brittany argues, but there's amusement in her tone and she beams you a smile when she looks around. "But he's cute and obviously thinks I'm cute because he gave me his number."
The anger you thought ignited in you before? You were wrong. Now you feel like you're on fucking fire and your fists clench, knuckles digging into your ribs as your chest twists uncomfortably, the words slapping you in the face. That fucking asshat gave Brittany his freaking number. During a freaking pregnancy scan appointment for the first trimester and a plethora of tests, and your mind rushes with all the points you could make about serving that asshole some papers and suing his ass, but all that leaves your mouth is disbelief as you stop moving again and stare at her, wide-eyed.
You're gonna need to hear that again.
"He what?"
"He gave me his number," Brittany replies, nonchalantly and now you're not sure what's pissing you off more; that needle-dick sales rep or how casual she's being, and the silence that drags after her repetition only highlights how loudly you're breathing now as you ponder over the two, so it doesn't come as a surprise when Brittany stops walking with you, fingers wrapping around your wrist and rooting you to your spot, body involuntarily twisting around to face her when you try to move again.
"I thought we'd gone over this," she says, voice low and you're instantly reminded of how you don't have the right to be jealous anymore.
Not that you are, you just–
It's just freaking weird.
"We have," you fight back, but there's aggression missing in your tone and replaced with desperation. "I'm only saying it from a best friend point of view," you shrug, like it'll make her believe what you're saying but she isn't. Her brows are pinched, lip too in one corner and she's squinting at you like she's reading a book which makes heat trickle down your spine. "I think it's inappropriate to hit on someone who's pregnant with the other parent right freaking next to them… It kind of says a lot about his character."
It's a good point. Not one that you'd put much thought into, but a good one none-the-less and Brittany raises her eyebrows like she's surprised you actually had a point. You didn't, you were totally scrambling for one, but it seems to have the desired effect as she stops looking at you sympathetically and instead bobs her head, returning to walking down the street once more. This time though, her arms wrap around her chest, and she doesn't look at you for too long, even when you quicken your step to catch up which just annoys you.
Why do you feel bad for having an opinion?
"Britt–"
"No, you've got a good point," Brittany cuts in, flashing you a barely there smile. "But it's only a drink, and it's not like mine is going to be alcoholic so if he's weird, I'm sure I'll realise sooner rather than later as I'll have my wits about me," she laughs the words out which should make the atmosphere lighten, but it doesn't. "And we said we should date seeing as we've got a long time of potentially not doing it, so."
A shrug follows, and you almost stop again to process her words as you're having a hard time doing both already, but this time she's the one with the good point so you can't. You did have this discussion, and you don't have feelings for her, she doesn't have feelings for you and it's just about sex which led to this situation. You are planning on sleeping with other people, even if you've been satisfied for a while now by just her – which is a freaking record – but the intention is there as it's not like you and Brittany have even talked about sleeping together again.
So you're going to stick with the words you two have shared, instead of the potentially concealed ones, and continue trying to make this less weird. There's been a funk in the air since you walked into the appointment, and you really don't want shit to get messy between you. So far, even though things you could've never dreamt of, it's been easy and drama free considering, and you're cool keeping it that way. God only knows you lived through enough in high school when you were both coming out and dating, despite all odds being against you.
"Wits or not, Britt," you start and bump your elbow against hers, earning her attention. "He knows you're pregnant and that's weird alone… He's probably got a Freudian complex."
Brittany giggles, nose scrunching up, but she rolls her eyes playfully and waves you off. "Shut up," she says, snorting loudly which makes you laugh, too. "I'll be sure to call you for a quick exit, if I need it."
You grin. At least you're the first person she thinks of to help her out. That spot is usually reserved for the closest person, and you feel good about that title in her life because baby momma just doesn't feel right. You two are more than friends, but less than romantic. You're somewhere stuck in the middle with her and regardless of outside judgement, it's a good fit for you two. This side of four months ago, she didn't even exist in your life anymore, so this is definitely an upgrade, and you can joke about rescuing her like she's a damsel in distress should a potential date go awry without feeling (completely) weird about it.
There's something in the pit of your stomach that feels heavy still, which only doubles when you hear the next thing she says.
"Maybe you should go out too," she suggests, lifting a shoulder and you put all your energy into putting one foot in front of the other, not needing a full explanation of what's behind the words.
She's saying you should go out and find someone to date. She's telling you that she's going to go on this date with the Freudian fuck-up and sure, you guess that's a good of a distraction as ever for you whilst it's happening, but it makes the uncomfortable twisting in your stomach increase. You don't know if it's a tactical move on her behalf, to lessen her own guilt but you know it's something friends would do, and you'll be damned if you fail at the first test of your friendship so it's not totally unreasonable.
Even if you don't like it.
"Yeah, that's a good idea," you bob your head, forcing your voice to be as normal as possible.
Brittany just meets your eye and smiles.
/
Brittany gave you a key to her apartment later on that day, and you did the same with her to your place.
You didn't use it for a good week, not wanting to just drop by and honestly, just trying to distract yourself from asking if the sales rep had text her or if there was a date set up yet as you hadn't made your move yet. Mercedes told you it was a good idea, so did Kurt, and Blaine just stared like he had a different opinion, but he kept his mouth shut as you two aren't exactly friendly and you're kind of a bitch to him when you don't need to be, so he didn't speak up. Probably in fear.
But anyway, in spite of you doing literally everything available for you to do – jogging, cooking, working – you can't stop thinking about Brittany going out with that douchebag. It's on the very forefront of you mind pretty much every second because he's so not what you thought her type was.
It makes you think about the guy from San Francisco and who she dated after you. Whether they were bad asses, as that was kind of the blondes type and you only know that from the couple of months after she moved to Michigan, she told you that some guy with a leather jacket and a bad reputation had asked her out and you told her she was free to do what she wanted.
That was the first event that led to the ultimate relationship deterioration, as you could stay blissfully ignorant if you two didn't discuss that part of your lives, but that ended in your eventual end of even a friendship as it turned out you couldn't bite your tongue. You were still in love with her, and you couldn't control the anger and it just ended up in you not being able to sleep at night, so after a while, you stopped talking and life just took off for you both on completely separate paths.
It sucked, and you kind of hate it still to this day as there wasn't really any closure between you two so you were left with the good things. Everything was just left wide open, and you think that's to blame for you current feelings towards Brittany dating someone, bar the fact that she's going with your unborn baby. You've always been protective over her, and the jealously doesn't hit as hard as it used to as this time you can control it, and freaking sleep, but you have to be aware of now and you can't just dodge the information.
So you think that her idea is the best course of action. You think that you should go out with Kurt maybe if she does go with the sales rep, as he's actually not a bad wingman, and you decide to be as normal as you can and take advantage of Brittany giving you her key. You text her first, and she tells you she's coming back from dance class so to let yourself in, and you do just that, breezing into her apartment and throwing yourself on the sofa, feet kicked up on the end as you rest one hand beneath your head and flick on the television.
After a couple of minutes, you feel your phone buzzing again and slide open the lock screen to see a text from Brittany, telling you she's hungry and that you should start thinking about what you want to order in as she can't be bothered to cook, and whereas it gets you all fluffy and excited, it also makes you groan as that's so not friendly. Her coming home and you two ordering in a pizza is something a romantic partner would do, so you know you need to go hook up with someone as soon as possible to solidify the friendship you two have and make it friendly.
She's probably going to go on the date, so you see no harm in finding some company as you'll have to be okay with it. There is no other option.
Anyway, the lock on the door clicks and Brittany sweeps in, grinning widely at you as she drops her keys into the bowl and comes to sit down beside you. Usually after class, she's wearing leggings and a crop top – you would know, you've drooled over that sight enough – but she's in an off-the-shoulder sweater that's baggier than normal. She's not showing yet but apparently she's conscious about it, and for a second a lightbulb pops up above your head as you think that if she does go on a date, she can't wear the normal mouthwatering dress as they're tight and revealing, and maybe that'll put her off the idea completely.
Even though you feeling so damn happy about that potentially being a thing is completely unreasonable, but still. You can't help but get happy at the thought.
(Although the lightbulb switches off when you look her over once more and realise she's still insanely hot regardless of what she wears.)
(Fuck.)
"Hey," Brittany breathes, leaning into you and resting her head on your shoulder. "I gotta pee again and I've been like ten times today," she pouts, tilting her neck to look into your eyes.
Momentarily distracted by the colour of hers, you force yourself to shake out of it and smile down at her. "That's expected at this stage," you explain, memorising the information you read about the second trimester and how the uterus is growing, so it pushes against her bladder. "Good news is that you should be over the worst of the other stuff soon," you add on, unable to stop yourself from pushing back a strand of her hair away from her face because you're comforting her with her words and apparently your body just follows.
She smiles at you softly, her eyes flicking down to your lips and back up again and she takes in a deep breath, leaning away and climbing to her feet, and as disappointed as you are, you know that had you kept her there, something else would be happening right now and you really shouldn't kiss her. It's not like when you were friends before in high school prior to catching the feels, as you'd never known how soft her lips were or how she could steal your breath by nibbling on your bottom lip, and now you do it's a whole other type of challenge.
So you're glad she moved, and she rounds the sofa, grabbing your shoulder to earn your attention before she heads off to the bathroom. "Did you order food?"
The side of your lips pull down into an apologetic smile, and Brittany giggles, rolls her eyes affectionately before telling you she wants pizza.
/
"How can you go from hating anchovies to wanting them chopped up into small pieces and put into the sauce?"
Brittany throws her head back laughing, mouth full of pizza and trying to catch the stringy cheese as it falls down her chin, but you're serious, even if you can't stop smiling. Prior to getting pregnant, Brittany used to freaking hate any fish dish, let alone ruining a perfectly good pizza with them both as toppings and apparently even in the sauce, and so you had to order two large pizzas (just in case) as she refused to back down on this and well, you did tell her you'd get her anything she wanted.
But anyway, it's been easy. Somehow you've stopped checking her out every two seconds – you really need to get laid – and started enjoying the feeling of being around her. The feeling she gives you, like you don't have to worry about explaining anything you said as most things come out sarcastic or bitchy, and you like it.
Well, up until Brittany has to basically ruin it by reminding you about the sourness you feel towards a certain topic.
"I don't know," she sighs, dropping her crust back into the box and tucking her legs beneath her as she grabs a napkin and wipes her fingers. Her body stiffens, and it doesn't pass your notice because the air shifts around you two. "But, I thought you should know," she pauses until brown eyes flash to her, and you see a seriousness behind in her face. Yup. You know why it's getting cold in here. "That sales rep asked me to go for a drink."
You force yourself to continue eating the slice of pizza in hand, fully knowing it'll be easier to say less with a mouthful which will work in your favour here. You have a habit of sticking your foot in your mouth when it comes to Brittany's dating life and you can feel the shock setting in, but you need to play it cool. You didn't do it last week when she discussed potentially going out with him and now she's confirming she is, so you need to react differently.
"That's cool," you say, a total contradiction but it was intended. "When are you going?"
Brittany clenches her jaw, brow hardening, and you don't know if it's because she knows you're trying to be cool, or because she's unsure. You're hoping it's the latter. "Tonight. Just for a couple."
"Cool," you reply around the pizza, eyes moving to the television like your heart isn't pounding inside your chest, but that's only because you're trying to be chill. You're not sure it's coming across like that, mostly because you've said cool twice in ten seconds, but you're also hoping that's going to go unnoticed. "Think I might stay in and read my books if you don't mind me being here," your eyes flash to the small bag you brought with you, stuffed full of pregnancy books you ordered online, and Brittany's eyes beam brightly at you at the suggestion.
She obviously gave you a key for a reason, and that also comes with the advantage of being the first person she sees after her date as you've basically just said you're not leaving which means firsthand information right off the bat, but again, you're hoping she's just going to think you're being chill.
"That's cool with me, and it also means you can help me find an outfit," Brittany states, pushing the pizza box aside and plucking yours out your hand, tugging you to your feet and making you stumble into her. "Seeing as I can't wear a normal dress now," she finishes, even though you're breathless for reasons other than the swift movement.
But you accept and head into Brittany's bedroom, choosing the outfit she looks the least gorgeous in.
(As if one exists.)
/
You've seen Brittany in a thousand outfits.
You've seen her in underwear, in a gown, in a tracksuit and everything else, but nothing quite has the effect it does in this one.
After you two spent an hour going through her closet to find something appropriate, you busied yourself with one of the many books, pretending like you were taking in the information when your mind was in the bedroom, perving on Brittany getting changed. You'd left before she started on the off chance that you wouldn't have been able to control yourself and when she comes out, you're glad you did.
You're flicking a page over in the book, sat in the recliner chair in the corner and your eyes flit up briefly at the sound of her bedroom door opening, soft footsteps padding down the hallway, but back down to the paper so you don't come across super eager to see what she looks like.
Well, at least that was the plan until your mind clicks barely a second later, the image of her in an off-the-shoulder black dress stealing every piece of focus you were trying to put into reading the words in the book and you slam it shut as she gets closer, now stealing the oxygen around you.
"Holy shit," you whisper, unable to stop yourself from leaning forward to get a better look.
Brittany giggles, a red creeping across her cheeks and she tucks her long, golden hair behind her ear, allowing you to soak her in for a second. "Do I look okay?"
Okay is a freaking understatement. Throat rapidly drying, you nod your head, fully knowing you're not even going to attempt to speak as your amazement with show through the scratchiness of your throat. Although you suppose the staring is already doing that and the fact your mouth is so wide open you could be catching flies.
"Uh," you make a noise that sounds like a confirmation, and the blonde just laughs more, coming closer but standing the other side of the coffee table, twirling from side to side like she's showing herself off. Which is cool with you because she fucking should. Her legs are impossibly long, her hair long and straight down her back and she's got light make up on, but dark eyeliner that highlights how freaking blue her eyes are, and you really are trying to stop staring, but she's just… She's Brittany. She's perfection.
"Uh, yeah," you force yourself to say, tossing the book on the side and clasping your hands in front of you, vision still very much trained on Brittany. "You look, uh…"
The words trail off, silence setting in, and you can't help but drag your vision up and down the length of her body again, marvelling in the perfection before you, gulping when your gaze locks on to long legs.
"Yeah?" She quirks, and you manage to rip your attention away to meet those freaking oceans, finding them narrowed and a smirk on her face.
Again, you nod your head, more rapidly this time and climb to your feet, not sure why you did it and you suddenly shift awkwardly, hooking your thumbs into the loops of your jeans. "Yeah," you manage to get out, stronger this time and swallow hard as you unabashedly look her up and down again, just because you apparently have zero control of what you're doing.
"San," Brittany warns playfully, still giggling but it breaks you from it and you look up with zero remorse, cocking a brow.
There's no way she didn't catch you fucking gawking at her, but who the hell cares? You certainly don't.
"You gotta stop looking at me like that," she continues and finally moves away, reaching for her bag and jacket and picking them up.
You don't stop though, just shrug a shoulder at her and give a cheeky smile that makes her roll her eyes playfully because she was totally egging you on, so you don't regret it. Plus, she has to know what she's doing to you and the fact she's grinning and trying to hide it by turning away, is just making you want to do it more.
"Last time you looked at me like that," she pauses and twists around, smirking. "That happened," her vision drops to her stomach, where her arms are folding, and you can't help but grin.
You know she isn't really meaning the baby, but more that you had sex after a look like that and you suddenly become alarmingly aware that it's been a while since then, heat scorching across your skin and making you flare up like a freaking firework. You shift your weight from one leg to the other, finally removing your gaze and walk over to the door, peeling it open and gripping on to the wood for dear life. It's the only thing stopping you from grabbing her as she comes closer and steps out the door.
"Will you be here when I get back?"
Looking like that? Absolutely. "Yeah," you shrug, biting back the response you want to give. "And call me if you need me, okay?"
Brittany looks into your eyes but nods her head slowly and you swear you see a flash of hesitation. It's gone before you can call her out on it though, and she tucks her hair behind her ear again before slipping out with a kiss to your cheek and a small goodbye whispered into your ear.
You don't cool down for half an hour.
/
You manage to read half a book, after Brittany's left, before you decide that staying at hers was probably a stupid idea.
It kind of makes you feel foolish, like you're waiting around for her when you shouldn't be, and she did say you should go out and hook up with someone. With the way she looked earlier, you're also a little worried about seeing her again and that thought eventually gets too strong and you send her a text, saying you're going to go out for a drink with Kurt.
She doesn't reply, which doesn't come as a shock as she's on a date so texting her ex probably isn't on the forefront of her mind, and you grab your stuff, heading back to your apartment whilst simultaneously pushing away the twist in your stomach.
When Brittany left, she looked really fucking good. Like, needed-to-stop-drooling good and it took everything you had not asking her to stay as you had a better use of her time.
Thankfully, Kurt is available and tells you he's only going to go if it's a gay bar – which duh – and you dress up in a jacket and jeans, looking smart but casual and meet him outside of the local one, finding him wrapped up in a hideous fur coat and a ridiculous hat. You laugh to yourself as you approach him, rolling your eyes as you know you'll have no issue with people seeing you there as you'll be with him as he draws all attention in such an atrocious outfit, so it'll probably make it easier for you to find someone to hook up with, but it also doesn't sit right somehow.
But you don't ponder over it for too long, calling his name which makes him spin around and look at you. "Kurt!"
"You took your time," he bites back, not even bothering with a greeting which makes you feel less guilty for what you're about to say.
"You should've used that additional time wisely then and chosen a less hideous outfit," you say, and he frowns at you deeply, eyes flitting up to the sky. "You ready to go in?"
He nods his head and you both walk inside, smiling at the bouncer as you've been here before a couple times. You take off your jacket and head straight to the bar, flagging down the bartender and ordering a beer for you, and a cocktail for him, biting back the urge to make a comment about how his drink is gayer than he is. You turn around, elbows resting on the bar top behind you and scan the area, taking in the busy crowd and bobbing your head to the music playing overhead.
"Why'd you wanna go for a drink so bad then?" Kurt asks, leaning in so you can hear him more and fear hits your chest when you think about the answer. Being honest and saying that you're fairly sure it's the only way you can stop thinking about Brittany and that date with the creepy sales guy probably wouldn't go down too well.
"Just needed one," you try, tipping back your bottle and enjoying the warmth as the beer hits your stomach. "Haven't gone on for drinks for a while and need to release some stress."
Kurt eyes you for a long, uncomfortable moment. He knows what you mean by release some stress. "So you're looking to hook up with someone?" He calls you out and you try to scowl and argue but he lifts an eyebrow. You don't even know why you'd get defensive. That is what you came here for. "What do you need me here for then?"
It's a good question, mostly because you never need anyone to help you hook up, but you just felt like you needed the push you know you'll get from him. Having him here, the most dubious of all your friends, is going to make you do this. It's going to be like a kick up the ass because you have something to prove to him, and you're stubborn as hell. You hate being proved wrong and you've been spouting how easy this thing with Brittany is, having a kid but also having a history, and it's about time you show him that by showing you two really are just friends.
It's pathetic, when you really think about it, but you know this is the normal now and having a baby with Brittany isn't changing that.
"You're a good wingman," you choose to reply, eyes sliding to him.
"Oh, so you need my help."
You almost choke on the sip of beer you take. "God, no," you get out through a strained voice, returning your vision to the crowd and searching it for your type. There's a few girls already, some of which have already looked your way, but you can take it easy. No point in going straight in when you haven't done a full scan and you're also kind of waiting for Brittany to call to come save her. "You can just entertain her friends while we go to the bathroom," you add on, knowing that's the type of thing you used to say before Brittany. You were and still kind of are a total asshole when it comes to women.
Kurt wrinkles his nose up in disgust and you grin, knowing it had the intended effect. "You're gross," he snipes and sips on his cocktail. "Can't you just take her back to yours instead of being a total tramp?"
"Britt has a key now," you reply before your mind realises that wasn't a good idea. Kurt freezes, his drink pausing mid-air and his neck clicks as he looks to you. Shit. You weren't meant to say that. "If she walked in it'd just be awkward and shit," you try to defend yourself, even though he hasn't actually said anything that means you should but the heat creeping up your spine is telling you to do it anyway. "And I don't like when they know where I live."
It's total bullshit, and you think he knows so you continue staring out into the crowd and sipping on your beer. You really don't need him to call you out on being weird about this as prior to Brittany, you would've done it like that anyway and you're not lying. The last time you took a girl back to your place, she turned up the next day after you bid your farewells with freaking coffee and donuts, and you had to awkwardly explain you weren't looking for anything more than a one night stand. She didn't take it too well, and you ended up with coffee all over your cream rug, but since you've made a point not to repeat that.
Naturally, that's not the part Kurt hangs on to though.
"Brittany has a key to your place?" He squeaks, his voice higher than usual and you wince, nudging him with your elbow at the same time you click your tongue. "Do you have a key to hers?"
There's no point in lying now. It's already out there. "Yeah, but we're having a baby together, Prancy Smurf," you hiss back, dropping your beer back to the bar and feeling the walls come up. Maybe you should've asked Mercedes or Rachel to come with you. They wouldn't be so damn inquisitive. "We're going to need to be comfortable enough around each other's places when he or she comes," you reason and okay, you might be able to talk your way out of this.
Apparently it works, because Kurt doesn't say anything else, despite his judgemental expression and sips on his straw as you catch the eye of a girl across from the bar and she's easily one of the hottest girls here, so you know it's your time to back yourself. You throw him a wink, nudging your head and he follows it, a concerned shade flooding across his eyes but you ignore it and push off the bar, throwing him a quick smile before thinking about your best pick up line and urging him to come with, with a wave of your hand.
He holds your eyes for a long moment but follows anyway.
/
A couple of hours later, you leave the bar with Kurt and a new number in your phone.
It didn't take much to go into the bathroom with the girl you were hitting on, and you got what you thought you wanted but as you walk out, all you can think about is how your phone didn't ring and how you weren't really feeling it. Sure, you fooled around and you should be happy and satisfied, but it just isn't sitting right in your stomach and you're nowhere near drunk enough to not think about how dirty you feel because you know that's what it is.
You feel like you shouldn't have done it.
Still, you don't let that show on your face as you head into the streets and walk back towards your apartment. Kurt doesn't live too far away, and you can't even begin considering going back to Brittany's as you don't really know what you'd say to her. She still hasn't text you back after you told her you were going out, and that's been bugging you more than you'd like to admit. She could've at least text, and honestly, you're half-scared if you go back to hers, she won't be there or worse… She won't be alone.
Which is totally hypocritical considering what you just did back in the bar, but you're a hypocrite.
"So," Kurt clears his throat and eyes you cautiously. "Did you get what you wanted?"
You can't help but clench your jaw, unable to correct his question in your own mind. Thought you wanted. "I got her number," you grit out, even though when the girl came back, wiping the corners of her mouth and giggling with the group of girls that you left Kurt with, it was hard evidence of what you two had just got up to, but you don't need to spell it out. If you say it, it becomes a whole lot more real.
"Is that it?"
"Yes," you spit back, way too fast for it to be real and he cocks a brow back at you as you continue walking. Having known him for years now, he knows you better than you think sometimes and usually it doesn't annoy you, but you're feeling guilty for reasons that shouldn't exist, so it does this time. You feel like you've cheated or some shit and that's so not the case here. You're allowed to do what you want, or who you want, for that matter and Brittany being pregnant doesn't change that. "I just wasn't really in the mood."
"You? Not in the mood?" He barks back, chortling out the words which makes you scoff loudly at him. "Can pigs fly now, too?"
You swipe at him, batting at his bicep and he recoils but apparently you reveal more than you wanted to as you look him in the eyes and he grabs at you, pulling you to a stop.
"It's weird… Isn't it?" He carefully asks, his voice softer than it was a minute ago and shit. You think you preferred his judgement instead of this irritating understanding you can see staring back at you, and you want to say no, but you know you can't, so instead you shrug at him and let the motion answer itself. It is weird. You wouldn't feel dirty otherwise. "It's only going to get weirder, Satan," he adds on, dipping his head and you roll your eyes, pulling away from his grasp as you round the corner and come to your building.
"It's fine," you wave him off and take in a deep breath, knowing anything else is going to get you into trouble. "Thanks for coming, though," you offer a weak smile, and he frowns deeply at you. "Text me when you get home, so I know you're safe."
He frowns, but not at the sudden care that you literally never show to anyone else but Brittany but bites his tongue otherwise and shit... You're kind of glad. If it wasn't for the emotion you know you're showing on your face, that alone would've told him that you don't feel good about tonight, but you really don't want to talk about it. You just want to take a shower and go to sleep.
"No problem," he quips and leans in to kiss you on the cheek. "Bye Santana."
You watch him walk away and suck in your bottom lip when it quivers. You need that shower.
/
The door clicks open when you turn the handle, but the second you step into the apartment, you freeze.
There's a couple lights on, that you know you didn't leave on earlier when you left for Brittany's and for a brief moment, you think about how quickly you can get to your bedroom and get the baseball bat from under your bed as you're pretty sure someone's broken in, but as you lower into a mid-crouch, your eyes register a pair of boots beside you, and you freeze for a whole other reason.
Because you know whose boots those are, and you push past the heaviness in your feet as you return back to a standing position, and creep quietly further into the apartment until you come to the living room, finding none other than the person that owns those boots, fast asleep on your sofa.
It's Brittany, and you let out a long breath, relieved that you don't have to call the cops and explain how you beat the shit out of an intruder, but the second you're over the small burst of relief, that dirty feeling crawling beneath your skin hits full force, and you're reminded of everything that happened tonight. Not only did you get a girls number – that you're never going to use – but you did a little more than that in the bathroom and oh yeah, Brittany might have done something similar as she was on a date.
Which brings you to wonder why she's here, and why she's on your couch asleep instead of out with that douchebag, and concern takes over as your feet lead you towards her, dropping into a crouch as you take her in. She's not wearing the dress she was earlier, instead in a sweatshirt and leggings, and you take a quick peek at the time to see it's only been three hours since she left which means she must have been here for some time if she's changed and is asleep.
You wonder if the date was cut short.
It's not like she text you back though, or even asked if it was appropriate to use your key and the brief thought of what you said to Kurt about bringing a girl back to your place would be awkward if Brittany comes round does flash through your mind, but then it's replaced with heavy dread as you didn't need to. You did what you thought you wanted to back at the bar and you all of a sudden don't want to be near her until you shower.
But you don't get to do that before Brittany stirs, her arms shooting over her head and she bumps into the hand you had hovering over her face, ready to push back the hair that falls across her face. She gasps quietly, eyes bursting open but when they land on you, she doesn't get scared, she completely softens and fuck. That just makes you feel ten times worse than you already do.
"Hey," she whispers, voice hoarse from sleep. "You're back."
You ignore the way your heart doubles in size because she just looks so damn pleased to see you as she blinks away the fatigue, dropping her arms to the couch and propping herself up on her elbows, causing you to lean back.
"Yeah," you swallow against the lump in your throat and breathe unsteadily. She's way too close to you right now and so you force yourself to shift backwards, perching on the edge of the coffee table and you don't miss the way she notices, eyebrows furrowing at the movement. "Kurt wanted to get back to Blaine," you explain, even though that's not true. The second you got back to the table, you basically dragged Kurt out of there. "I didn't expect you to be here."
Brittany bites her lip, looking at you for a long moment with her eyes squinting slightly but you drop your gaze. You so don't need her seeing how you feel in your eyes, and you think she's starting to.
"I only went for one drink," she explains slowly, even though that's not really an answer to your question, licking her lips and sucking in the bottom one, pausing her sentence. You don't think she wants to answer your question though, instead far more interested in why you moved away from her. "And then I really wanted tamales and you always have them," she tries to joke, the corner of her lip twitching up and the memory of how Brittany used to use that excuse when she climbed through your bedroom window flashes through your mind but on top of the mental hurricane, which makes you want to smile but you can't. "Is that okay?"
You meet her stare this time, unable to resist as you did give her your key and you don't want her to think you regret that, but the second you do, she seems to see something in your eyes, and her face falls. She's always known you far too well. She's always been able to get inside your head, even when you don't want her to and you freaking hate that she still has the ability because you watch the light bulb flick on above her head and her mouth drop open.
But you really don't want to say it. You don't know why – or rather, you don't want to admit that you think you do – and you just want to go and wash off the feel of some strangers lips on you and get into a scolding hot shower.
"Yeah, of course," you play it off, desperately trying to seem normal and return to your feet, dusting down the back of your jeans. "I'm just gonna go get in the shower."
Brittany holds your eye, staring up at you through narrowed blue and you force yourself to look away. You know that coming home from a bar and heading straight for the shower is speaking volumes by itself, but you haven't had to deal with this in the longest time, so you don't know what to do. The last time you even felt remotely like this, was the first time you touched someone else after you two broke up when you were teenagers.
You cried yourself to sleep, even after Brittany trying to calm you down over the phone and telling you it was okay, and if she wasn't here, you probably would've done that, but she is, and you have to deal with that. You have to get over this dumb ass feeling as it isn't warranted. You shouldn't be feeling like this, and you know you'll feel miles better when you can't feel someone else's hands all over you, even if it wasn't sex, and you're really hoping Brittany can't read that thought going through your mind as you don't know how to explain how you feel.
Even if she does read it, she doesn't say anything or push for more, and instead you hear a small okay as you round the sofa and head straight for the bathroom.
/
You're in the shower for almost an hour.
You scrubbed and scrubbed at your skin, with boiling hot water flowing over and burning you all over but you feel slightly better as you come out and head straight into your bedroom, throwing on some clothes. You don't get to put your shirt on though before you hear Brittany at the door, and you wish you could say you didn't feel her coming but you did, and you kind of wish that she'd read you for definite and just left. Although you also know if you were in her shoes, you wouldn't have left and instead stayed because you were being super weird earlier.
But you're kind of hoping the shower has fixed that.
(It hasn't.)
"Did you have a good night?"
The question is asked calmly, and you don't turn around to face her immediately as you stretch across your bed, slipping your shirt on and pulling it over your damp hair, adjusting the hem around your hips. You can feel the conversation coming on, as that's a good starter for it and you didn't think of a single explanation as to how you could talk your way out of it whilst you were in the shower – you were super focused on rubbing your skin raw – which now you regret.
Still, it's going to happen, apparently now, and it's only weird as it's the first time you've hooked up with someone since Brittany – or at least that's what you're telling yourself – so you take a deep breath and finally spin around, finding her leaning against the doorway, arms folded. Her eyes are narrowed, and she's still got the same look on her face as the one she had when you left her on the sofa, like she knows somethings up, has a strong suspicion, but doesn't want to ask it.
You don't want her to either, but you're also not going to lie. You can't start off parenthood with the parents lying. That'll fuck up the baby in the long run, so you've got to start as you mean to go on.
"Yeah, how was yours?"
"It was… okay," she draws out, pushing off the doorway and stepping into the room, arms still tight across her chest. "Jean is sweet, but I think you might be right about the Freudian complex," she continues, chuckling lightly and you manage a small laugh back, way too distracted to by happy that you were right about him. But that just arouses more suspicion as it's not your normal one, especially with her, and she tilts her head to the side, frowns pushing together and for a second, you're scared she's going to ask you outright, but she doesn't. "He talked about his mom way too much for a first date."
You force the laughter a little more this time, but the second you catch her reaction, you wish you hadn't. She doesn't laugh with you for much longer instead frowns deeper and steps closer and because you don't want her climbing inside the walls around you like she does so damn easily, you flinch.
It sucks, and you regret it the second you do it because you never do this to her. You've never reacted like that to her when she's gotten closer as it usually makes you want to get closer too, but your body knows different right now. Your head is screaming at you to step forward and double back on what just happened, but your body refuses to do it and instead, directs focus into tilting your neck back up so you have to look into her eyes.
And you hate what you see, because the same recognition you saw on the sofa is back, but so much fucking stronger this time and it's unavoidable.
Brittany's head is cocked to the side, her lips sucked into her mouth and her eyes are slightly narrowed, but jaw tightly clenched. You've known her for long enough to know what it means, and your head involuntarily drops, chin tucking to your chest as if to confirm something that hasn't been asked.
Until it is.
"Did you meet anyone?"
There's a beat of silence before you reply, but you know she already knows the answer so lying is off the table. "Yeah," you admit, the word so quiet as it leaves your mouth. "Got someone's number."
Brittany nods her head, but continues looking at you in the same way, like she's reading a book she's read a hundred times and you fucking hate that. She wasn't asking if you got someone's number, or whether you had a chat and you fucking know that but you just don't want to say it.
"Just got her number?" She presses, and you also add how interested she is to your list of hating things as you were kind of hoping to play the blissfully ignorant card if she were to discuss her trainwreck of a date with the creepy sales guy who apparently has mommy issues.
But it seems she isn't going with the same approach, and you make yourself nod your head as your mouth is going to get you into trouble if you reply with it. You're already borderline about to word vomit and this situation shouldn't feel so significant or heavy as being friends, you should be able to discuss dates and sex lives, but like Kurt said... It's just weird.
"Right," she says, her voice harder than usual and you suck your lips into your mouth as she takes one more step forward now, only a small space between you and your heart begins pounding harder and faster. She knows she's on to something and trying to get it out of you. "Since when do you need to shower after just getting someone's number?"
And there it is.
She's calling you out, and you look into her eyes, wanting nothing more than black hole to appear and swallow you up because you really don't want to do this. You don't want to say it because it is freaking weird and it shouldn't be and that's messing you up so much more than it should be.
You thought by going out, having a few drinks with your best gay and hooking up with a hot blonde in the bathroom would have distracted you. That it would've made you not think about Brittany and her date, but obviously as per fucking usual you had to go one step too far and challenge that grey area that was existing between you and Brittany because you both agreed that it was just sex, and now you're just friends.
You both agreed that you should date other people and make good use of the time before the baby comes, but all you're left doing is feeling guilty that you succeeded, and Brittany's date was a flop, and that's not how it was supposed to go.
You would've been better off staying at hers and reading a damn book until she got back.
But hindsight is a wonderful thing, and you know deep inside that this can't be a thing. Neither of you can make this into a bigger deal than it has to be because then that challenges the defined lines, the black and white areas that were established when you found out you were bringing a life into the world.
So you don't lie. "I didn't just get her number," you admit, and you don't need to spell it out because Brittany gets it.
She's always got it, always understood you when others couldn't and she inhales sharply through her nose, head tilting up as she holds it in and then heavily exhales, bobbing her head like she's accepting it.
It's not like she can't.
That doesn't make you feel any better though, and all that leads you to think about is how this is the first of many conversations you'll have like this. Maybe at some point it'll be more serious. It'll be about relationships and not just about sex, when the baby is born and years down the line, you two are seeing other people and shit...
If you thought you felt bad before... You were so wrong.
All those thoughts send your mind into a spiral and your eyes drop to her stomach as she stays silent, thinking about how you'll tell your child about mommy's new boyfriend or mama's new girlfriend. You think about how much more this is going to suck and you can't resist in looking back into Brittany's eyes, hoping to see the same thing staring back at you, but you're entirely thrown off when you find her staring blankly at you, like you didn't just admit you'd done stuff with someone else for the first time since she's been back in your life, and then you're confused because you thought she looked like she didn't like hearing that.
Maybe you were wrong.
"Okay," she finally speaks, clearing her throat and dropping her arms to her sides, clasping her hands in front of her. "Well, I also came over to see if you were here as my mom called and I thought we could go visit them this weekend," she suggests and it's such a stark change in topic that you blink at her for a long moment. Did you just imagine the whole previous conversation?
The confusion nearly leaves your mouth too, in the form of a what the fuck but then Brittany rocks on to the balls of her feet and you don't need to ask. You know her too well too. You know that movement too well as she only ever did it when she was nervous, or wanted to come across totally okay even though she wasn't, and the words disappear back down your throat because that means she doesn't want to talk about it.
She wants to change the conversation and this time, you're the one to tilt your head, reading her in a way that you used to and not giving a damn when she sees it, evident in the way she folds her arms back across her chest like it'll lock you out.
And you think it's for the same reason you don't want to talk about it, so you don't challenge her. "This weekend?"
"And maybe we can visit your parents next weekend," Brittany quickly follows up, holding your eye and she's trying so hard to steer off topic that it weirdly makes you feel better.
You kind of thought she didn't care and that almost made your hear drop out your ass but now you think she does. Now she's staring into your eye, nibbling on her bottom lip and you can see that she's scared you know what she's thinking. You don't, but you've known her for long enough to recognise certain signs like how the tip of toe is circling on the floor, how she keeps shifting her weight from one leg to the other and how she's heavily exhaling every time she freaking breathes and you know that means she's trying not to show how she's feeling.
But you're not going to call her out on it. She didn't with you earlier, before you got in the shower, so you'll do her the same courtesy now.
"Sounds good," you reply, biting your bottom lip as she smiles at you briefly, it not reaching her eyes but again, you don't say anything about it. That would be dangerous.
"Great... Well, I'm gonna head back to my place," she takes a step away and your body does the opposite of what it did before and moves forward, following her. It's just one step, but it's enough for Brittany to stop moving and peer over her shoulder, shock in her eyes like she wasn't expecting you to do that.
"You're not staying here?"
It's a bold question, but one based off the hard evidence that she was asleep on your sofa when you got home, so you kind of assumed she was going to stay the night, so it's not like she's shocked by that part. Still though, she takes another step back – one you don't follow this time – and shakes her head, and you know that means she's not going to stay. For what reason, you don't know, as you think there's about a hundred to choose from in this moment, but it's probably the wisest idea and it's not like you can ask her to stay.
That'd be weird, and you don't want to spend the night comparing her skin against the strange one you had pressed up against you in a bathroom stall of a bar earlier.
"We've got a whole weekend together," she replies, and you bob your head, pushing your tongue to the back of your teeth. "Don't wanna sick of seeing each other too soon," she adds and again, she's trying to make light of it, but you see straight through the attempt. You'll never get sick of seeing her and something deep inside of you knows that, and you think she knows it too, but you can't verbalise it.
"Okay," you exhale and swallow thickly. "Speak to you tomorrow?"
Brittany pinches her lips together but tries to smile through it as she nods her head and heads back out the door she came through, pausing to look back at you once more. "Sure," she drums her fingertips against the frame. "Bye, San."
"Bye, Britt."
She disappears out of view, and you let out a long sigh as you sit down on the edge of the bed, knowing that she'll probably only call you tomorrow and that isn't nearly enough for you now. You've seen her basically every single day since you found out she was pregnant, but you know there's a weird atmosphere that you can't shake, but you guess that's the norm now.
It has to be, so you don't give into the urge to chase her through your apartment and stop her from leaving.
/
How are we feeling?