Title: Above The Moon
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 18.3k
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: This is a long old chapter… Was going to split it into two but thought it might be cool to keep it as one.
/
The thirty-five-week mark comes and Brittany suddenly pops.
It wasn't like she wasn't visibly pregnant before, but one day you wake up and she's laid on her back next to you, arms above her head looking like a freaking angel, and her stomach has swollen ten times overnight. You stare, spying the large bump and watching as your daughter moves about and it only takes a few seconds to have the desired effect because Brittany groans quietly, face scrunching up after being rudely awoken by gentle kicking.
You can't help but giggle and roll out of bed to help her to the bathroom – her feet also swell in the mornings – and you start the daily routine you've unwittingly created over the past few weeks. It's all very domestic, and you buy baby furniture together on the second week, make sure everything is tied up as the due date is rapidly approaching by the third, and you ignore all the warning signs in your head that flash up when Brittany smiles at you and you go all gooey inside.
Apparently, it's hard to do when you're alone, as you seem to have the same effect on her, and when you have your alone time – or check in on your abandoned apartment that you haven't slept in for weeks – you do some research into nearby realtors.
You love being near her, you're excited to get stuck in with your daughter when she comes, but you've gotta be smart about things and that's a good start.
There are a couple apartments nearby, only a block or two away and you start seriously considering selling up your place so you're close, as you are more than likely moving out after the first month or two after the birth.
Which isn't something you were thinking about, but since your friends decided to bombard you and Kurt asked you loads of crap, it's all you can focus on, and you decide to bring it up to Brittany when you're doing exercises your midwife gave her to turn the baby into the correct position.
During your last scan, apparently your daughter hadn't shifted just yet and seeing as it's rapidly approaching Brittany's due date, it was necessary and it comes into your head because you're sat on the floor, both doing stretches as you promised to be in this together, and it feels too cosy.
And that's when it hits you.
It hits you that it's beginning to feel like you two are in a relationship, even though you don't kiss or anything, but you sleep in the same bed, do the same things, support each other, even cook for one another and you also do exercises on the floor with her, just so she doesn't do it alone. You do all the things couples do and it strikes hot fear into your veins when you catch yourself staring at her whilst she bends into unnatural positions, twisting her face up adorably as she can't be as flexible thanks to the bump because this is what Kurt meant.
It makes your stomach flip, a sigh leave your lips, and then blue eyes are on you, and the panic strings a sentence together and sends it straight from your mouth before bypassing your brain to check it's a wise thing to say.
Which, it is, but it just doesn't come out right.
"So, I was thinking about moving."
Brittany sits bolt upright, shock passing over her face and her lips pop open. "What?" She breathes, and it takes a couple seconds but then you go back over your words and realise she thinks you mean now. Before the baby is even born.
"Crap, no," you quickly correct, hands snapping out mid-air and shaking to back up your point and your face gets all hot. That's not what you meant. "Not like, now, or anything," you explain, and her shoulders drop as she drags her hands down her legs to grasp at her feet, returning to the exercises, eyes still hesitant but she's trying to be normal. "Like, after she's born," your eyes drop to her protruding stomach. "I've been looking at a couple of apartments a block or two away, and I was thinking I could move to be closer to you when I eventually move out of here."
Clearly not expecting you to say that, Brittany straightens up again, the breath leaving her chest loudly in a long exhale, almost like you just threw ice cold water over her. The soft smile that was on her face has faltered, the façade of being normal disappearing completely and you hate yourself for feeling guilt as she didn't want you to say that, but what else were you going to suggest? That you live together forever? Or at least until your daughter is eighteen?
That won't work, and this whole thing probably could've been approached more delicately but you were panicking as the last few weeks have been fucking with you. Everything about Brittany is intoxicating, and you're not stupid, you can feel yourself getting dangerously close to the feelings part of things.
You two haven't had sex in like, forever and whereas previously, you thought that was a good thing, now it's just meant that you've spent genuine time together, getting reacquainted like you did when you first met, and you know where that got you back then.
But that just reinforces that you need to do say this with your chest, as you now find it hard thinking about why you two shouldn't give things a go romantically when you stare at her like you just were – you're already doing everything else – which is additional head fuck. You're finding it hard figuring out all the reasons you were heavily convinced by before, unable to even remember most of them as you've kind of been living in bliss recently.
Ever since you broke things off with Mona and moved in with Brittany to be there every step of the way, there's been a constant smile on your face and every day has been brighter because Brittany's been right next to you.
A time limit was set though, and at the risk of breaking your own heart, you need to just get it out there because you promised to live together until your daughter was born, stay for a good amount of time to support and bond with her, but then it was left open. The only responsible thing to do is to stay close, but not too close, as you two aren't in a place where you want to be together and start this family like most others do.
Neither of you want that.
(You think.)
(No, scratch that, you know.)
(Nope, go back to think.)
"I mean…" Brittany whisper and it breaks you from your thoughts. "I guess that's a smart move," she lifts a shoulder and drops it heavily, and she swallows, a barely there smile playing at her lips, and you instantly feel guilty. "I hadn't really thought about it yet," she continues and breaks the eye contact, dropping her vision to the rug beneath the two of you and plucks at some of the fluff. "But… Yeah, that sounds good," she shrugs and now you're not sure if it's for your benefit or for hers. She isn't looking at you, so you don't know. "It's just-"
The way her voice cracks and how the sentence stops before completion, makes you zone in on her. There's a pink flushing up her cheeks, and she swallows, sucks her lips into her mouth and looks at everything in the room that isn't you as her brain works double time. You recognise it, you always have, because you know she wants to say something she doesn't know how to, and you want to hear it.
You want to hear what you think she's about to say as there was a time, as teenagers, where you had a conversation like this after you had been making out as teenagers without talking about what it meant. It was first time feelings were mentioned, apart the bleachers fiasco, and it took Brittany having to pull it out of you by admitting how she felt first, for you to say anything, and so you're not sure if that's what she's doing here.
So far, she's done things as adults as she would've as teenagers, but if that theory is correct, you're in trouble.
(Well, not trouble, but you have to think that this is still very platonic and not get ahead of yourself.)
"It's just been good having you around," Brittany finally settles on, the words airy and you swallow hard, nostrils flaring, jaw clenching as you're trying not to knee jerk react to this.
Just like you did as teenager, you've got your walls up and it's for the exact same reason. You're not sure how you feel about her, and you're terrified that talking about it will take you back ten years to familiar feelings and she'll say something that will screw with your head even more.
So you need to place it safe and bring up the reasons why moving out after a few months is smart. If honesty is going to save you here, if you can voice what's in your head without actually admitting that you're more doubtful than confident in what you're about to say, then you should be good. Like you've done all along during the pregnancy, you need to communicate and be clear, as neither of you are in a place where you want to be together, you're just having a baby.
It's been like that all along.
"It's been good being around," you admit, and Brittany blinks rapidly, choking out a breathless smile like she wasn't expecting you to be honest, but you don't have a choice with her. "But I don't think we can live together after she's born," you follow and the smile freezes all over again, so you look away to find the confidence to get out what's swirling around in your brain. "I'm not sure I can be around you that much without…" You pause and take a deep, quivering breath, the words lodging in your throat. "Without risking falling into old habits," you manage to get out and it's a lot more honest than even you expected.
To the point where Brittany audibly gasps, her teeth coming out to nibble on her bottom lip to stop her from saying whatever she was about to and she just holds your eyes, silently encouraging you to speak as you don't usually start it. But this time, you just feel like you have to because your head is scrambled, your feelings are confused and everything's just a little bit overwhelming and your daughter isn't even here yet.
You don't want her coming into something messy. You were warned of that months and months ago by your friends.
"Don't get me wrong, I've loved living with you," you carry on and take in a deep breath, returning your gaze to ocean eyes. "And I won't go for the first few weeks after she comes either, or maybe months, if you that's what you want," you lift a shoulder and ignore the heat threatening to creep up behind your eyelids. You don't know why it's there; you're not breaking up or anything because you're not together.
You're just reminding both of you that after this is over, even though it'll never really be over as you'll share a child, you do have lives to go and live after.
"But neither of us are in that place," Brittany cuts in, and your mouth snaps shut, this time you being the one whose rendered speechless as you've heard that before. Has Kurt got to her, too? "Are we?" She asks, her eyes flitting between each of yours rapidly and now there's a tension in the room.
It's somehow gone from teasing each other whilst stretching to get your unborn baby into the right position to come out, to having this deep conversation that echoes a long gone memory. It's gone from light and playful to serious in a flash, and it almost makes you want to laugh because no-one can make you switch up like Brittany can.
She's been the only person to get under your skin like this and unfortunately, you think that ultimately, that's what Mercedes once meant about your history making having a baby together thing hard, as there was no way you could go without history biting you in the ass somewhere along the line. This conversation is about doing the right thing and continuing to live your lives whilst co-parenting as that's what you discussed when you first found out she was pregnant and not the echo of another memory that once occurred between you.
That was the deal you made and you're going to stick to it as it's the best thing for your daughter, and Brittany agreed to it, too. Sure, there were things that happened along the way that you never could've predicted, but you made it through those so you can cross that finish line. The end is scarily close now, and when your friends tried to tell you that either you and Brittany sharing a bed had to either mean serious preparation, or sheer stupidity, you've realised that you don't want it to be either of those.
You aren't going to live together, so it's not preparation, and you're not hoping to get back together, so it's not stupidity.
(Even if it wouldn't necessarily be stupid, but you don't know what you want and with the birth of your child, that's not something you want to figure out alongside navigating how to be a mother.)
(And if something was going to happen, it should've done by now.)
So you think the answer over and over in your head, making sure it's the only one that leaves your lips as there are about a hundred to choose from, and take a deep breath before you say it, even if it feels like a lie when it's out there.
"No… We're not in that place."
Brittany holds your eyes, smiles, but because she's looking right at you, you see the way it doesn't reach hers instantly. She must know that though, so you narrow your own, tilt your head and try to get a read on her, but the moment to do that swiftly disappears when she looks away, realising she should've hidden that reaction. Her hands shoot out beside her, and she awkwardly clambers to her feet, cradling the low of her bump as she stares down at you with a completely different expression than a second ago and you're just confused.
She's not in that place either, right?
"Exactly," she agrees, voice a little strained but she swallows to clear it. "But I'll need to see these apartments you've looked at if our daughter is going to live there, too," she continues and that means she's understanding what you're saying and now you get why she was acting like that.
You will have your own lives, your own apartments, and your schedule will be built around your daughter as she'll have to share equal time in different apartments, because you two aren't together. You won't have that picket fence life that all Americans dream of, and you won't adopt a puppy and have a few more adorable mixed-race children following this one, and it's only when you start think of that, that you react the exact same way too.
Your mouth smiles, but there's no happiness buzzing inside your chest or inside your eyes as you stare at her, and you swallow hard against the feeling, realising that dream really is out of reach. That's what you said, and she agreed that she isn't in that place either which solidifies that you feel that way, too. It kind of fucking sucks, and you've loved being with her a little too much but that's why you have to do this.
So you'll have to stop waking up and having batter fights when trying to cook waffles in the morning. You'll have to put a post it note on the bathroom door so before she remembers to get a towel before she showers, as currently you bring her one and it's adorably amusing that after all these years she still does shit like that, but it'll be gone in the next couple of months.
All of that will be forgotten, and you'll return back to the life you had before she walked into it, even though it'll naturally be different because you'll be a parent, but once you're in your own apartment, you'll be a part time parent but safe from potentially falling into old habits and potentially, even in love with her all over again.
And that double sucks.
"I gotta pee," Brittany quickly adds on, flashing a wide grin that again, doesn't reach her eyes before she spins away and mutters something about finding a suitable apart as you both want the best for the baby and that starts with the living situation.
But you're not sure what the best is anymore. Not after this conversation.
/
You and Brittany had made out.
You'd made out in your dad's car, you'd made out in your pool, you'd made out on her bed, but you weren't talking about what it meant. Since she kissed you beneath the bleachers, after mentioning that you must have had a crush because you were abnormally nice to her and no-one else, there hadn't been much talking about feelings and you were cool with it. The thought of actually voicing how you made you want to curl up and die and so you were just going with the flow.
However, it was one Friday night when there was a very typical house party, that shit went down to bring that topic to the surface.
You turned up with Brittany, and a few of her friends even though they didn't even pretend to try and like you, but you'd found some of the Skanks out in the backyard and chose to spend time with them as Brittany was popular and people wanted to dance with her without you ruining the vibe. No-one knew about your secret thing – whatever the hell it was – and it wasn't an issue until that night when you became aware that you were both very much single still and there hadn't been a label put on you.
Even if you weren't at the relationship stage, yet.
After getting bored of the beer keg, you decided to get something a little harder and left the Skanks to go inside the house, pushing past the bodies dancing and chatting away until you found the liquor table. There were a hundred different coloured bottles covering the entire top of it, and you eyebrows raised, the choice way too hard to make as you didn't know what half of them were, so you just went with your favourite colour and found some black rum in the back, combining it with cola and finding a new favourite mix.
You tipped back the first sip, eyes darting around as you wanted to check in on Brittany, but your heart sank out of your chest when you found her.
She was in the middle of the front room, surrounded by a chanting crowd and she was ripping her shirt off, revealing a bright pink bra as she clambered drunkenly on to the coffee table. Fear struck through you because she was considerably less sober than the last time you saw her, but you were trying not to be that bad smell that hung around and aroused suspicion as whatever was going on between you was a secret and doing shit like that would've revealed it, so you hadn't been around her.
Plus, she was her own person. She could do whatever she wanted to do.
But in that moment, as much as you found it amusing that she turned into a stripper when she was drunk, you became aware that half the party was ogling the girl you were making out with as she stood on that table, shirtless..
They were drunk, hormonal teenagers and your teeth bared when you saw one of the jocks pull her off the table and into his arms, laughing when he tripped onto the sofa, so she landed on top of him. He began laughing, but she didn't and swatted at his arm with a disgruntled expression, but because he was dumb and intoxicated, he either didn't realise or didn't care and cheered along with his buddies as he felt up your girl.
And you'd never felt rage like it. Brittany was yelling at him, her friends were gathering around to join in and attempt to release her from his grip, but you weren't going to let them get into a physical altercation because you were about to beat them to it.
There was no way you could have stayed away from her then, and before your brain told your legs to move, they already doing it and you were on the other side of the room, grabbing Brittany by the hips, hauling her up off the sofa and kicking the jocks forearm as hard as you could when it snatched out to grab at her. He yelped out in pain, his arm reeled back as he clutched it to his chest and everyone that saw it went deadly silent as Brittany gasped, realising what you'd just done.
And so did you.
You were pissed as hell, feeling your blood boil in your veins and you were panting hard. Red was flashing in front of your eyes, your narrowed vision focused on to the guy who thought it was a good idea to touch Brittany without her consent, and even if she had given him it, you probably would've reacted the same. She wasn't to be handled like that by anyone and she was a freaking angel, and apparently you didn't need the rum because you were already drunk enough from the beers to behave like that.
Which had you been sober, you probably would've realised was a bad idea. It was a dead giveaway as to why you were so protective, and you hadn't even told Brittany about that yet because you were chicken shit and you belonged to the social group that were known for being hot-headed and terrifying enough to stay away from, regardless of hierarchy and that's most of the reason why no-one had approached you about it.
You did hang out at school every now and then and walk home together afterward and people had eyes but reacting like that, was a whole new level. Reacting like that was proving that it wasn't just a friendly thing between you two, as her friends were doing what 'friends' do when shit like that occurred by screaming at the douchebag, and there you were, barging in between out of nowhere, almost breaking a jock's forearm by kicking it as hard as you could because he was touching her when she didn't want it, but he got what he deserved.
So it was hard to feel remorse.
"Bitch, what was fuck was that for?" The jock hissed, screwing his face up and that just pissed you off more as hell no, he didn't get to touch her and then challenge you. You weren't going to let that happen.
But Brittany saw what you were going to do before you even thought of it, sensing that you probably wouldn't listen to her if she just tried stopping you verbally, so she stepped closer, sliding her hand down the back of your arm to wrap long fingers around your vibrating wrist. Her body pressed up against the back of yours, her lips coming down to the shell of your ear where she lingered, breathing steadily but heavily.
"Santana," she whispered, and you tensed further, feeling your muscles ache from straining so hard but you were resisting the urge to turn that guy's foreskin inside out. "Santana," she tried again and when the guy chortled mockingly, clearly seeing that Brittany was trying to calm you down, you lurched without a second's thought, but she reacted quickly. Her free palm shot out, pressing flat against your stomach and she used it to tug you back before you could complete the motion and knock a few teeth out. "Stop. Let's go."
You didn't have time to respond before Brittany was steering you out of the party into the night air, and you were becoming alarmingly aware of how much attention you'd just put on yourself as you moved through the house. Your pulse was no longer deafeningly loud in your ears, so you picked up on how the music had been turned down, how the beer keg competition had come to a swift pause thanks to your outburst, and you would've been embarrassed but thankfully, the blood alcohol level was preventing that.
However, it was also doing a sterling job of fuelling your anger towards a guy who was no longer around, and because of that, it meant it was directed at the closest person to you. The person who just stopped you from pummelling that asshole into the ground for pulling a stunt like that. Which was totally unreasonable and unwarranted, but you were just a drunk, stupid, kid and couldn't put a coherent thought together thanks to your state of mind so you had zero reasoning ability in your brain.
"What the fuck?" Left your mouth as you staggered a few steps forward, into the middle of the street to turn and look at Brittany. "What were you doing in there?"
She blinked, lips popping open with shock as she adjusted the hem of her shirt as she had just put it back on and stared at you, wide eyed. "What?" She breathed, and you clenched your jaw, nostrils flaring.
"That guy," you huffed, unable to control the way your mind was dizzying with the combo of alcohol, fresh air and adrenaline. "That fucking asshole was getting all up in your grill," you yelled back at her, wincing at the memory flashing across the back of your eyes.
Brittany just stepped forward though, clearly catching on to the anger as it was then unfairly directed toward her and she turned her head, eyes narrowed. She was drunk, but in that moment, she seemed a lot more sober and a lot more irritated than when you last looked at her face. "Yeah, which I tried to stop," she pointed out and squinted further. "Or did you miss that part because you were about to go all Lima Heights?"
Because you were drunk, and because you felt like she was finding your anger ridiculous – which it was, but you couldn't admit you were wrong, or you'd lose face – you scoffed. You clicked your tongue, which was the wrong thing to do as Brittany laughed mirthlessly instantly and that just pissed you off more. If she hadn't got up on that freaking table, acted like a stripper and shit, then the douchebag job wouldn't have grabbed her and that just repeated inside your mind until it left your mouth.
"I am Lima Heights, Britt," you spat back because if where you came from was an issue, then there was no point in continuing making out or whatever. You were super aware that you came from different ends of the scale and that just riled you up more because she was pointing it out. She was aware of it and that terrified you.
"That's who I am, and how I'm always going to react when some asshole starts touching you without your permission," you hissed, throwing your hand out towards her and she jerked her head back so quick that you were sure it was temporarily suspended from her neck. You were saying too much and that made you panic all over again, your brain conjuring up a quick escape. "But he wouldn't have fucking tried it if you weren't going all 'Spearmint Rhino' on the damn coffee table."
"Are you freaking kidding me?" She screeched, and you reacted exactly the same as you had never heard her like that. She was always so light and happy and playful, but in that moment, she was tall and intimidating and pissed, and as hot as you were finding it, it wasn't appropriate. You were arguing in the middle of the damn street at night. "So a girl can't take her clothes off without expecting some asshole to take advantage of it by touching her up?" She followed up but you shook your head immediately.
No, you didn't mean that. You just panicked after revealing that you were super protective over her and didn't want anyone touching her without her permission or even with it, to be honest and blurted out defence because your back was up. The mere thought of someone else touching her the way you did made your skin crawl and that was the whole reason you nearly screwed that guy's future football career by breaking his forearm.
You couldn't admit that though. An argument in the middle of a street after a house party was not the place for that discussion.
"Don't twist my words," you replied, voice low and serious but she was mad, and you couldn't blame her. That was a total dick move on your behalf, even if you meant something else but you couldn't bring yourself to say that.
Brittany stalked forward, nostrils flaring until she was glaring down at you from a small gap. Her body was vibrating, her lips were shaking, and it was warm that night, so it wasn't because of the chill in the air, and you hated that she was looking at you like that. Like you were about to hurt her. "I'm not," she got out through chattering teeth, but they were bared. "That's literally what you said," she gritted out, breathing hard. "But if you think I've got it wrong, maybe you should explain yourself better."
It was a very Brittany way of giving you a second chance, and you almost smiled but then your body went into panic mode all over again as you didn't know how to explain why you reacted like you did with that guy in any other way.
You weren't even entirely sure yourself, even though you think you were, but you were too fucking scared to admit it. Admitting to yourself that you were falling hard for that girl started the journey to telling her and sure, technically, Brittany had already called you out on it beneath the bleachers for the first time when she'd kissed you, but you hadn't confirmed it.
If anything, you had avoided it on purpose because occasionally during the times where you would make out, she would stop and just stare into your eyes for a beat too long and you felt like she was about to bring it up again, so you did something to distract her. Something being shoving your tongue back into her mouth, but it worked, and you were good with that, but that had meant it had just built up to that moment right there, arguing in the middle of the street and your only way out was to reveal your truth.
And your face got all hot, your skin started itching and you could feel your body wanting to run away because you felt like that was incoming. You were desperately fighting the bolt though, as the liquor in your veins was still convincing you that you were reacted aptly, but also because it was going to happen at some point, and that was as good as any.
If it didn't go the way you wanted it to, you could pretend like you didn't remember thanks to your liquor intake the next morning. Ignorance could in fact be bliss if you wanted it to be.
But you weren't going to be the one to start that conversation, even if Brittany had given you an opening, and thanks to the panic you were feeling, your mouth blurted out words that your brain hadn't really thought about.
"You can do what you want," you got out loudly and it confused her, but it confused you too. You had no idea where you were going with that, but you still continued as you pushed past her, needing not to be facing her for whatever you were about to say. "You're single, so you can dance on tables and get touched up by jocks, and I have to be okay with that," you said, but it was quieter and had there been any nosey bastards hanging out their bedroom windows watching it, they wouldn't have heard it. "I'm not allowed to be angry because you're just my friend… We're just–We're friends," you trailed off and found the strength to spin around, eyes narrowed, lips sucked into your mouth to find a completely different Brittany staring back at you.
It was the one you were used to, the good, innocent, soft, Brittany. Her eyes were cloudy, her lips were pouted because she was chewing on the insides of her cheeks and she was tilting her head to the side, and all the anger that was present in blue eyes a second ago had completely gone. There was just that twinkle again. The one that only happened when she looked at you, and you thought that was what made you continue, with just one word, but a huge unspoken question behind it.
"Right?"
Brittany's lips popped open as she straightened up, blinking at you because she knew you were challenging her. She knew what you were really asking, and it was the most vulnerable you had ever been, bar the first time you kissed, because it wasn't about the action, but more about the emotion behind it. That was something you'd avoided talking about, so it must have been a shock that you were bringing it up but again, liquid confidence was helping.
You definitely weren't capable of having that conversation sober.
"We are," she finally confirmed, and you were relieved for a whole second before going back over and realising that was the wrong answer. For once, you didn't want to be right, and you thought the disappointment showed in the way you choked on the breath you tried to take because Brittany took a large step toward you, hand reaching for yours and kept you from backing away. "But I really like when we hang out and… stuff," she added on through a whisper and your eyes snapped back to hers.
Her voice cracked as she said it, and the sentence barely made it out, so you knew instantly she had been terrified to admit that too and you zoned in on her. There was a pink flushing on her cheeks, one not caused by liquor, and she sucked her lips into her mouth, eyes scanning around the street to focus on everything that wasn't you. The cogs were turning in her mind because you knew the 'stuff' part was the part that had wound you up in the first place and led you to almost breaking that jocks arm, and she knew that, too.
But you just wanted her to say it, wanted her to be the first one to voice it because you were so sure she understood now why you reacted like that. You were so sure she had switched emotion so quickly because she knew why you got so pissed that someone was touching her up, because she was single and so were you. All that hanging out, making out and fluffy stuff hadn't changed that and that was one of the main reasons you went from zero to a hundred so damn quick.
You were jealous, but you had right to be, but risking that you were wrong, you swallowed and went with the only thing you could get out which was, "Me too."
"You do?" Blue eyes moved to you and then you were the one to get confused. You didn't know why that was surprising, and it got worse when she closed the gap between you again and came right back into your personal space, grasping your hands and staring down.
You were scared though. You didn't want to be the first one to say it and there was a second conversation going on between your eyes, so that was good enough for you. In that moment, you saw how she felt about you, how she wanted to give your heart a break and how she liked being around you because you were you. Which was weird, as no-one ever liked hanging out around you – even your damn abuela rarely visited – but she was different from the rest.
Ever from the second Brittany stumbled into your life beneath the bleachers, she had just hit different.
So you couldn't help but agree with the smallest nod, eyes briefly meeting blue before flitting away, but it was all Brittany needed as she inhaled deeply, lifting her chin and blowing out through pursed lips, and you could see she was preparing herself. Her vision was moving all over your face, her hands quaking and it was a complete contrast to when she first kissed you as if anything, she was cocky and confident then, but out in the street that night, she wasn't.
She was scared, and hell, so were you.
"Okay, well I won't get on any more tables and start stripping then," she finally broke the silence, and you gulped, jaw clenching as yeah, that was cool, but you were hoping the conversation was going a different direction. "And I definitely won't let any jocks feel me up or put myself in a position where that could happen," she followed and it was unreasonable on your behalf because she could do what she wanted, and that was about to come out when you locked eyes and all words failed you.
The way she was looking at you felt way more significant than it had a second ago, and then you became aware of her quivering breath, her drying lips that she kept wetting every two seconds, and you just stood still, eyebrows pinched as you stared up at her, preparing yourself for the worst but hoping for the best.
"Because I like you, San," Brittany whispered, blue eyes holding brown strongly and like she had a few weeks ago, her hand came up, a single finger stroking beneath your chin to keep the stare even though there was no way in hell you were breaking it. "I like you, and I don't want guys to think they can touch me or whatever because they can't," she admitted and her voice wavered, the nerves showing but she held strong. "The only person I want touching me, and kissing me," she paused and swallowed loudly. "Is you."
And you swear your heart stopped.
Just like a few weeks prior, when you first kissed, you burst into flames but that time it wasn't due to her lips being on yours, it was because you were hearing what you wanted to. It was because you realised in that moment you really weren't alone in the feelings, and she understood why you almost broke that guys arm.
You realised that she felt exactly the same as you did, and all it took was her putting it out there for you to find the confidence to do the same, shaking your head, blinking away the heat shooting to the back of your eyes and forcing the words to come out of your mouth.
"I like you, too," you spluttered, and Brittany's lip twitched as she slowly broke into a wide grin, her eyes a frightening blue. "And I don't want anyone else touching or kissing you either," you rushed out and it was lame because there was a thousand things you could've said, but all you could do is parrot what she said. "I just want us, and I'm sorry I got so angry, but I just can't think of someone else touching you–"
You didn't get to finish before she was kissing you. Her lips came down on yours, sucking your bottom one in as she flung her arms around your neck and pulled you close, smiling against your mouth. Your hands shot to her hips, your mind registering the kiss before your body did, but it only took a blink before you were kissing her back. Fireworks exploded behind your eyelids, your entire body lighting up like the night sky, and her hands started tangling in your hair as you slid your tongue into her mouth, needing to back your words up with actions.
Because after that night, no-one in that school ever touched Brittany apart from you, ever again.
She was yours and you were hers.
Proudly so.
/
The next week flies by, and then Brittany's due date arrives.
You wake up in the morning, spy the duffel bag you've prepared to get to the hospital just in case she wakes up and her water breaks – however unlikely – and she grumbles as she stirs, face scrunching up. She always hated sleeping on her back, and thanks to being the size of a house now (according to her), it's the only comfortable position but it welcomes your unborn child into kicking Brittany awake most mornings.
"Hey," you whisper, pushing back blonde hair as you lean over her and watch as blue eyes slowly peel open, still heavy with fatigue. "Guess what day it is."
Brittany wrinkles her nose up, thinking over it for a minute and then she clicks, but the smile from seeing your face first thing drops instantly. "God, is it here already?" She asks, voice strained with sleep, and you giggle lightly, swinging your legs off the bed to run around to the other side of the bed, ready to help her up by offering out your hands.
"Yeah, it's your due date," you sing but she doesn't seem to vibing the same as you and you don't know why. "What? Why aren't you excited?"
Blue eyes drop to her stomach, and you pinch your lip up at the side as she waddles to the bathroom. Yesterday, just before you got to bed, she was irritable as hell. Her back was aching, so were her feet, she wanted to eat everything that wasn't available on Postmates or in local stores at that time of night, and nothing you did was making it better. So you think it's safe to assume she's woken up in the same mood and you used to deal with her being grumpy when she was on her period, so you guess this will be an accelerated version of this.
It's nothing you haven't handled before.
Well, sort of.
"I'm huge," Brittany grunts as she drops your hands, pushes down her underwear and slowly sits down on the toilet once you enter the bathroom. "I got up to pee like ten times last night and I don't feel like she's even close to coming out."
You didn't even wake up, so you instantly feel bad but rest your butt against the basin, arms folded over your chest as you watch her, forcing back a smile. "That's why I told you it's your due date," you explain, and she scowls, eyes flitting towards you briefly but she's grouchy and wants to be, so she doesn't hold the contact. "She could come from today which is something to be happy about."
Lifting a hand, she waves you off and grabs a few pieces of toilet roll, wiping with a struggle and huffing loudly when she sits back down only to start peeing again. "See!" She half-yells and you jump up so you're back on your feet. "I can't even tell when I need to stop peeing. She's pressing on my bladder."
As much as she's in a bad mood, you're finding it adorable and your chest is blooming with affection and it shouldn't be, but the sight is cute as hell. You know that the only reason she hasn't looked at you for more than two seconds is because you'll break her bad mood by grinning, and that's just making you want to catch her eye and smile even more, but you know how to handle her, even if it's going to be a bitch.
You remember back when you were a teenager when you didn't know what to do, but you learned through various mistakes and always made up for it with cuddles and snacks, so you just wait it out this time, knowing she always comes to her own conclusions about being unreasonably irritable if you leave it long enough. That's probably the safest thing to do.
"Britt," you say lowly after a couple of seconds and reluctantly, she slides her eyes to you as you drop into a crouch in front of her, grabbing her free hand. "It could happen today," you tell her, and she sucks her cheeks into her mouth, but is still frowning. "Which means no more peeing ten times a night and sleeping on your back," you whisper and for the first time since you reminded her of the date, she smiles, but it's small and barely there, so you keep talking.
"It means she'll be out here with us, and you can sleep on your front whilst I look after her, and you won't want to eat a tube of toothpaste at three in the morning," you quirk and the words even make you smile, which completely cracks her ability to remain annoyed and blue eyes twinkle as they roll. She really doesn't want to smile but you're making her.
"So let's have a good day, and hopefully see her at the end, okay?" You finish up, climbing back to your feet and letting her hand drop back to her lap. You're looking down at her now, and she's still got all the tell-tale signs of having a bad night's sleep like bags under her eyes, puffy eyelids and ruffled hair, but she's never looked more beautiful, and you have to clear your throat to stop staring.
"Fine," Brittany drones, still trying to fight the grin as you scrunch your nose up at her. "But I'm gonna be pissed if she isn't here by tomorrow."
You tap the back of her hand, return to your feet and kiss her on the top of her head before leaving her to finish up, only to start cooking her, her favourite breakfast.
/
A whole week goes by with no sign of Brittany going into labour.
You book in a check-up with the midwife for a few days' time, just in case, and try every move you've ever discovered to get Brittany to smile. She doesn't, and as the days go by, you realise that you need to play the position of the punching bag instead as she's crabby, her everything hurts and she's heavily pregnant whilst it's freaking boiling outside so however unreasonable it may be to unleash her frustration on you, that's your place right now.
It's not a combination that you wanted to endure, but Brittany says the Gods are out to torture her by sending the temperature soaring whilst she's the size of a dumper truck and you don't laugh, even though you want to. Mostly because she looks so damn angry and instead, take up your position, knowing it's the least you can do.
But it gets old pretty quick, and Brittany becomes unbearable because she snaps over you over every little thing. Nothing you do makes up for it and sure, you have memories of handling her during agonising periods back when you were teenagers, but this is nothing in comparison to that. The fact she was on the pill managed some of the side effects back then, but this time it's pregnancy, not something she can take a pill for and well, you can't really blame her when she turns into an emotional rollercoaster.
If you were her, you think you'd go insane. She's literally carrying around a whole other person inside her stomach in impossible conditions.
So that's why you take the verbal lashing, unnecessary comments, begrudging glares and wrap your arms around her when she cries.
You cling on to her even when she pushes at your shoulders and tells you that she's mad at you because your daughter is stubborn and that's a you thing, and you apologise and get her chocolate ice cream.
You bite your tongue when she refuses help from picking up things she's dropped on to the floor, even though it takes ten times longer than if you just did it and it's super fucking hard, but you know it'll be worth it.
However, it gets to Friday, and you don't make any plans, knowing you want to be around to do damage control as it's the eighth day after your baby girl was supposed to come out, and Brittany is in a horrific mood. Possibly the worst one she's been in yet, and you only know that because you wander into the front room and she's glaring at the television, sewing together a small blanket angrily and stabbing the needle so fast between the cotton that you jerk towards her, scared she's going to stab herself.
"Britt, be careful," you say and it's the wrong thing to do as blue eyes snap to you as she leans away, preventing you from taking the stitching.
"I am being careful," she grits out, features hardened and you lift your hands by your ears, like you're surrendering, and back away slowly to the armchair, sitting down on it. Honestly, you're too chicken shit to sit on the sofa next to her. The only reason you want to go to the ER is for her labour, not for having a knitting needle jammed into your eyeball.
"I know, but just slow down," you reply as softly as possible, eying the needles. "If we're going to hospital, it should be for the baby," you try as it made you laugh when you said it in your head, but her expression remains stoic.
"That's not happening though," she spits and her upper lip curls. She's really mad. "Is it?"
You gulp because no, it's not and sure, you thought you could deal with this as Brittany's periods were bad ten years ago, but you were dead wrong. This is nothing like that, as you used to be able to sneak over and climb in through her window, armed with packets of Dots and Snicker bars and make her smile in under ten seconds, even when you argued a few hours prior because you (at the time) didn't understand how to handle her.
That's definitely not happening here though, as you've tried every trick in the book and yeah, you know you have to take it as she's uncomfortable, in pain, too hot, and all the things you're not, but it's beginning to grate on you. There's only so much you can do before you have a nervous breakdown because you just don't know what to do anymore, so instead of even trying anymore you just suck your lips into your mouth, bob your head and watch as she tears her gaze away from you slowly, retaining the glare, but redirecting it toward the television.
Okay, silence might be the way to go.
/
The first time Brittany went hormonal on your ass, you had no idea what was happening.
In all fairness, you turned up at her house, ready to spend the day together – even if you were late thanks to your dad taking back his offer to let you use the mustang which meant walking –and when her mom let you inside with a concerned glint in her eye, you hurried up to her room to find her stomping around the place, looking hot and flustered and frankly, mad as hell.
It confused you, so you stood in the doorway, taking in the scenery and spying her phone on the side table which meant she wasn't on it and arguing with someone but that just made it make less sense.
You had no idea what was going on.
"Brittany?"
She span around, eyes landing on you and unlike the usual softness, there was a hardness in blue yes. "You're late," she deadpanned, and you frowned, walking into the room and settling on her bed.
"For what?"
"We were supposed to go and get a burger with my friends," she spat back at you and your neck clicked as you reeled back, eyebrows shooting up.
You were right. She was pissed, but she was pissed at you, and that sucked because you were starting to get feelings for the girl and you hadn't kissed her yet, but you were hoping it would go that way. However going for some food with her friends wasn't exactly a sign she was into you, and you started to feel stupid, doubting yourself even though your friendship wasn't typical and okay, maybe you didn't exactly have major plans for the day, but you looked forward to spending it with just her.
So for a few reasons, you got your back up.
"I didn't know that," you replied with a shrug and Brittany huffed loudly, setting her hands on her hips as she stalked over, towering over you with a narrowed glare. She was almost vibrating with anger, and you were still entirely confused as she hadn't even told you that you were supposed to go somewhere, or else you would've been there on time, so it seemed a little unfair that she was that mad because of her mistake.
"I text you yesterday," she retorted without a seconds hesitation and didn't stop fucking glaring which just annoyed you more, even if she had a point.
Which you really didn't want to admit, as in that moment, your brain clicked and you remembered skimming over a text about going out to eat with her friends at the local diner – that was renowned for food poisoning – but then she'd followed it up with a cute selfie, asking if you liked her new bangs and you just forgot about the first part. So you had more than two reasons not to go then, as a burger with her group was going to be more painful than bamboo splinters beneath your fingernails, and you didn't want to be wrong.
Plus, she was coming at you with aggression and a fierceness you'd never seen before.
"I didn't see that then, obviously," you droned back, trying to make the situation lighter by kicking your foot out to nudge her ankle and for a whole second, you thought you'd gotten away with it when you shot her a cheeky grin to follow it up. The corner of her lip twitched, her arms folding over her chest, and you saw the glare threaten to break, but then she was shaking out of it and retaining the stoic expression on her face, shoulders squared like she was ready for an argument.
"That's just great," she said but her tone was flat, revealing she was very much still pissed, and you weren't doing a good job of talking your way out of it. But if you admitted the truth – that you were totally distracted by her new bangs and even saved the damn photo to steal a glance at whenever you wanted – then you would've been knee deep in shit with no way out and that was considerably scarier than just trying to calm her down.
"Now my friends are going to be mad that I was late and I'm going to get crap because I was waiting for you when I told them I'd be there."
And because you were a kid, and you were naïve, as well as super confused as you didn't think you had done anything that wrong, your mouth shot out words your brain hadn't put together. .
"Calm down, Britt… It's just a burger with your stupid friends. They'll understand."
It was the wrong thing to say. You really should've put more thought into it and definitely not waved your hand around and been super casual by leaning back on her bed, because she somehow got even more pissed off. Her eyes burned down at you, almost creating holes straight through your skull and you gulped, not being familiar with that side of the girl. You'd only known each other a matter of weeks really, but she was already leaving a lasting impression on you that you had a sneaking suspicion wouldn't ever go away.
Brittany was perfect. She was the ray of sunshine on a gloomy day and the thing that made you want to wake up in the morning. Just the thought of seeing her smiling made your insides twist up and heart skip a beat but when you were staring up at her, watching her take a few steps towards her bedroom door and hold it open, that didn't happen. You didn't need to hear the words to know what she was getting at, and you couldn't help but scoff loudly as you still had no idea why she went zero to a hundred and why it was aimed towards you.
"Seriously?" You asked, voice a pitch too high. "You want me to leave?"
She pressed her lips together in a tight line, lifting her chin and nodded just once. "I've gotta go meet my 'stupid friends'," she repeated, scowling fiercely and you winced. You definitely shouldn't have called them stupid, even if you were aware they held a similar opinion about you. "And I don't care if you think they'll understand because it wasn't about them," she said but you didn't get it. Why did she want you to go so bad?
"I wanted them to meet you properly and spend time with you, but right now, I don't want to spend time with you," she continued, and your heart clenched tightly in your chest.
Ouch.
"So you should go home, and maybe we'll talk later," she shrugged and the lack of certainty over future communication made you want to leap across the room and wrap her up in a hug because you didn't mean to cause that type of reaction. You were just trying to make it better and you definitely weren't.
That was a dangerous combination though, because you knew you'd upset her, you didn't want to admit you were wrong, and you were unreasonable most of the time anyway, so you got angry. You didn't understand why she was so mad, you didn't like that she wasn't even giving you an opportunity to explain why you were late in the first place as it wasn't your fault, and you fucking hated that the situation was indirectly caused by her friends and a stupid burger and your freaking dad, even though you should've been asking who it was about if it wasn't about them.
You were pissed for so many reasons, so you shot to your feet, blood boiling inside your veins and let out a bitter chuckle whilst shaking your head, and you knew it pissed her off because she tensed but you weren't going to stop. You weren't going to try and fight it. You weren't going to try and defend yourself because you felt like she was behaving like everyone else and automatically painting you as the villain, even though you had valid explanations as to why you hadn't been on time.
One of the main ones being that you'd totally forgotten as her existence had blurred your mind and that would've revealed way more than you were prepared to.
"Right, okay then," you gritted out as you brushed past her and out into the hallway, turning around to face her. "Don't call me until you're out of this freaking mood because believe it or not, I don't really feel like being around you when you're like this, either," you followed with heavy sarcasm and a condescending twist of your features.
Brittany just clenched her jaw, stared you in the eye with burning fury for a whole three seconds whilst snorting through her nostrils before slamming the door in your face.
/
Or not.
The peaceful silence lasts for a whole two minutes, then blue eyes are flashing back to you, and you ignore them for as long as possible before finally giving in and looking at Brittany. She's glaring, harder than before – somehow – like she could take your head clean off and you push your tongue to the back of your teeth, holding back the urge to snap at her before she can get you first.
That's childish though, so you do as you did before and stay silent.
But then she speaks. "Could you breathe any louder?"
You choke out a disbelieving laugh. "Excuse me?" You quirk, voice way too high and Brittany just blinks, presses her lips together into a line and drops the knitting into her lap to fold her arms over her chest.
"You're breathing super loud," she deadpans.
But nope.
You can't take that.
You won't take that.
You can handle a lot of shit and you have been, so for her to say something that petty has just pushed you over the edge. You don't have a cold, you don't have asthma, you didn't just go for a run, so you know you aren't panting like a freaking dog and so she's just trying to start an argument. Like she has been recently to no avail, and you've bitten your tongue up until now but…
Now you feel like you want to argue with her.
Before your mind can tell you to rebel, your body is already doing it by shooting you to your feet and stalking over to her, head twisted. "Are you serious?" You hiss down at her, brows raising towards your hairline. "I'm breathing super loud?" You repeat, dragging out her words mockingly and her expression drops, eyes going dark and hard in a way you're not used to.
Well, unless you count the past four days.
"Yup," Brittany fires back, showing zero remorse and quirks a brow, and frustration surges through your veins, heating up your blood.
And all you want to do is snap at her, give into the urge and give her what she wants, and your mouth drops open but sense kicks in.
It burns, like actually freaking burns you to hold back and bite down on your tongue, and you do it so hard that you almost draw blood, but you can't argue. You won't with her as you don't know when your daughter is going to appear, but you don't want to start it on a bad note and half of you is seriously considering that she's doing this on purpose to cause stress and maybe give the baby the shove she needs to come out.
However biting back isn't going to do anything but piss you both off and make it awkward. You can't make up in the way you used to with peppered kisses, cuddles and all the other sappy crap teenagers do, and sex when she was off her period, so you think you're going to have to swallow this and that's what you do.
You inhale deeply through your nose, biting down on your tongue to stop it from letting some venom out and muster the fakest smile on your face, eyes squinting and cheeks rejecting the movement. "I'm gonna go out," you say instead of everything running through your head, and you half expect her to falter but she doesn't.
"Why?"
You take a step back, around the armchair and grab your jacket off the back of the door, making it clear that you weren't offering. You need to leave now and give her some alone time and maybe in an hour or two, you can come back, and she'll be out this mood. You don't have anything else to try, no notes from the year you spent together as teenagers to cheer her up, and so leaving is the only thing you can think as maybe… Maybe you're the problem.
"Because I don't wanna argue with you," you reply honestly and this time, Brittany does falter, brow furrowing deeply. "We've spent a lot of time together, so I'm gonna give you some space as we can't let our baby girl come into a world where we want to tear each other's heads off."
It's the first and only time you'll ever admit that she's pissing you off too, and it seems to have the desired effect as she blinks at you, the anger disappearing from her features as she leans back into the sofa, drops the sewing kit to her lap and nods her head just once. Which kind of sucks, as it means you're on the right track as she's not even stopping you from going but you hold that in, exhaling heavily as you flash her a brief smile and slip out the door, phone in hand.
You need a drink.
/
You spent most of the day at home, in the pool, doing assignments you never would've dreamed of doing if it weren't for your mood, and basically doing anything to take your mind off the argument.
It was the first one you had with her, and all that was imprinted in the back of your eyelids, revealing itself every time you blinked, was the image of burning blue eyes glaring at you. You hated it, and because you were mad at yourself, mad at Brittany, mad at the stupid plant in the corner of your room that fell over when you threw a book at it and caused dirt to go all over your clean carpet, you locked yourself away and switched off your phone.
You didn't want to talk to anyone.
But then the sun went down, your anger simmered away after festering for a good six hours or so, and all resistance inside your body to communicate with Brittany in some way had gone. There wasn't a single reason you could think of not to go over to her house, or text her, but you wanted to stay pissed so you did the only thing you could think of and found yourself stalking her social media instead.
That could've worked.
Although it didn't, as when you viewed her Instagram, you found she had posted a story and you seethed for a good minute before clicking it and realising how much of an ass you'd been.
Because there was a single photo, and it wasn't of her and her friends eating at a diner, but of her, as if taken from her perspective, tucked up in bed with a hot water bottle pressed to her stomach, painkillers resting next to her thigh, and it all clicked into place.
She was on her period.
That was why she was so irrationally mad. That was why she was so hurt that you'd forgotten you were supposed to meet her friends and during the time you were supposed to be distracting yourself, you had already come to realise that she wanted people to see the side of you that she saw, which was actually a good thing. Not a bad one like you had previously thought, as if you got along with her friends, it meant you could spend more time around her and that's when you realised how stupid you'd been.
Because she wasn't irrational.
She was completely rational, but her hormones were all over the place and it came out wrong and had you been in her shoes, you probably would've lost your shit, too. You didn't handle the situation well, being sarky and casual about something she considered important – which you had too, after a while – and that was when you knew you needed to see her and apologise.
So without a second thought, you grabbed your jacket, a couple dollar bills and ran all the way to the local store, preparing to make up for how much of an ass you'd been.
/
Kurt and Rachel were together when you text him, so when you get to the bar, you find the both of them smiling at you from your usual booth.
He apparently forgot to tell you the troll would be here, so you eye him for a good second, trying to find the effort to insult his outfit or something just to get back at him, but to be honest, you're exhausted. Emotionally, physically and in every other way, you're fucking drained because the past week has been the hardest out of the entire pregnancy and so you just roll your eyes, head toward them and slump down, flagging down the bartender, signalling for a drink.
"You look rough," Rachel comments and your eyes flash to her in a glare.
"You look like Willow's uglier twin."
Kurt snorts through his nose and leans over, hand setting over the back of yours and eyes you for a beat. "Guessing Britt's water still hasn't broken," he says, and you resist the urge to snap at him too, as obviously not or you wouldn't be here, and neither would they and choose to shake your head instead.
"Nope," you reply curtly, and the bartender comes over, setting down your drink but before it can touch the table, you snatch it from his hand, tip it back and feel the burn in your stomach as the liquor hits. The guy's face twists with shock, clearly impressed but you really needed that, and now you need another, so you just shove the glass back into his hand and flash him a fake smile. "I'm gonna need another," you say, and his brows shoot up, but he scurries off to get you another drink.
When you turn back, you find Rachel staring with her mouth open, Kurt's lips are pressed together into a tight line, and you roll your eyes again at both of them. Rachel just told you that you look rough and now they're aware Brittany still hasn't gone into labour, so it can't be a shock that you're in a foul mood as Brittany has been for the past week too and everything is really getting to you.
Especially as she obviously wanted you to leave her alone earlier and you're kind of butthurt about that.
"You might wanna slow down. You can't be drunk in case she actually does go into labour," Kurt remarks and not expecting it, you twist your face up because really? A freaking lecture stating the obvious? How much of an ass does he think you are?
"I'm not," you hiss back and Rachel grabs Kurt's forearm, flashing him a look like she wants to take over and have a stab at cheering you up or at least talking you down, and that's kind of a dumb move as you're obviously seething with venom and needing a release, and she's always a weak target. But whatever, if she wants to do that then like you said, you could do with ridding some of this anger inside.
"How you holding up?" Rachel chimes in and you thought she was going to continue the lecture but okay.
"Great," you chirp sarcastically, watching the bartender come over with a tray and two more whiskeys on ice. You only asked for another, but you guess he read you the second he saw your face and flash him a genuine smile this time, momentarily sending him into a daze before swiping a glass and tipping back the contents. But it gives you the confidence to settle, the low buzz now in your ears and the alcohol doing its thing and a wave of calm comes over you as you eye your friends, pushing the empty glass aside for the last full one.
"It's just hard," you finally admit and Kurt glares at Rachel because she did what he couldn't, even though it's actually the whiskey that's making you speak, but whatever. "I've never seen Britt like this," you shrug, and Rachel pinches her lip up at the side, Kurt does the empathetic head tilt, and you look away. That's so not what you need. "She's so irritable and angry all the time… I can't do anything right, and she tried to start a fight but I just… I can't."
You feel sorry for yourself, so you let out a long sigh and spin your glass in your hand, watching the liquid splosh around inside, but that just makes you feel dumb. You're getting upset but you can't be as this is just natural, and Brittany isn't actually mad at you, but mad at the pregnancy but it's hard to read between the lines when she snaps. It's always hard when she's pissed off and this time you can't break it, even if you try to with a daring smile every now and then.
"You're doing your best," Rachel replies and gives you soft smile but strangely it doesn't make you want to tear her head off. She's being your friend again. "Neither one of you knows what's going to happen and I'm sure this is overwhelming and scary for both of you," she continues, and Kurt pulls his lips down, brows shooting up like he's surprised she's giving you sound advice. "And maybe Google some ways to get the little one out," she tries with a lift of her shoulder, but when you give it two seconds, you realise that's not a bad suggestion. "There are herbal remedies, exercises and stuff you can eat to speed things up."
You know that, but you just haven't got around to creeping around the topic. Just getting Brittany to wake up in the morning is a struggle and to be honest, you're a little scared as cold feet is a real thing and you're not going to bolt or whatever but you're alarmingly aware you're super fucking close to becoming a parent. If you speed it up, then you'll have a daughter, and everything will just hit fast forward and now you're kind of regretting throwing back two whiskeys as it's making your stomach turn as these thoughts process.
You do need to slow down.
"Yeah, I've heard fresh fruit and spicy foods can help," Kurt finally chimes in, saying something useful for the first time since you got here. "Sometimes taking a long walk can too, and even acupuncture and aromatherapy."
Rachel bobs her head along, and you look between your friends for a long moment as it sounds like they've just Googled it themselves. It makes your heart swell with affection when you realise they probably have, as you've been texting them the past week with updates and that's one of the reasons you called Kurt here.
Alongside being your shoulder to lean on, he's been stuck up Rachel's asshole since you've been busy with Brittany, as work has fallen to the wayside, so it's been necessary for someone to tail her to prevent anything that would require your presence, and you're thankful for that as he did it without prompt.
So right now, you feel super fucking grateful for both their existences and whereas when you first sat down, you thought you were going to snap at them, now you feel a thousand times better. To the point where you're having to suck your lips into your mouth as they're threatening to tremble and that last thing you need to do right now is freaking cry. Especially because they're being really freaking nice and doing that would be super lame.
"You know it's not about you," Rachel continues with an encouraging smile on her face, and she lifts a shoulder, like she knows she's right. She is, but alongside crying, acknowledging that is something else you don't want to do. "She's hurting, she's the size of a yacht so you just gotta work together and communicate as it's equally hard, but in different ways," she continues and takes a sip of her wine, shifting her gaze to Kurt who still looks baffled she's not being a totally selfish asshole.
"Hot damn," he breathes, and the corners of her lips twitch up. "Rachel Berry does have a soul."
You pull your glass up to your lips to hide the grin that stretches across your face and roll your eyes.
They're such idiots.
/
It was way too late to knock on the front door by the time you worked up the courage to go to Brittany's, so when you got there, you froze.
You sat in your dad's car outside – the irony that he let you borrow the damn thing after making a deal about it before which led to the argument with your best friend, not passing your attention – and you stared up at the house, hating being there for the first time. You and Brittany were just friends, as it had only been a couple weeks since meeting her, but you knew there was something deeper festering inside of you, aimed towards her and only her, but that argument felt like such a big deal because of that.
You were kind of a hothead, and all you had been toward her until that day was nice, so you knew you needed to apologise for being an ass, even if you had a reason to be. You were just defending yourself and it was the first time Brittany had ever felt like you needed to get your back up, but since finding out that she was on her period, was probably emotional and irrational, and also pissed that you'd let her down.
Which you came to realise after storming out her house, and you guessed that the ball was in your court, so you were responsible for making the first move.
But that was hard for you. You hated admitting when you were wrong and you didn't feel like you were entirely, but you knew you could've handled the whole situation better. Brittany was allowed to be pissed as you were late going over, which meant being late to meet her friends and over time, you had come to realise that was a big deal to her, so it should've been to you.
Even if you weren't entirely sure why she wanted you to meet them so bad.
Anyway, after sitting there for a good twenty minutes, you forced yourself out the car, grabbed the packets of Dots and Snicker bars stashed on the passenger seat and stuffed them in your pockets as you rounded the side of her house, jumping the back gate. Her bedroom was above a short trellis, and you stood staring up at it, head tilted all the way back, trying to figure out a way to approach the situation.
You could find some pebbles and throw them at the window, and you even looked for some, but Brittany's backyard was all grass so that idea shot out your brain as there were none, and it was totally cliché anyway. She may not have even come to see who was the one doing it or ignored it and you weren't prepared to leave there without talking to her face to face so you did the next best thing.
The trellis looked like it could hold your weight, so you moved towards it, looping your fingers through the gaps and hauling yourself up. Your bicep muscles strained, but you were light and relatively strong so it was easy, however you came across an obstacle when you managed to reach Brittany's window as removing your grip to knock or try and push it open would mean potentially losing your balance, and it wasn't like you were scared of heights but dropping from that distance could've resulted in a broken ankle.
Still, you hooked your elbow around the trellis, putting all your weight on to it and pressed your free hand to the pane of glass, pushing up and breathing out a sigh of relief when you realised it was off the latch. A little dangerous, but you needed go get inside pronto and you heard Brittany gasp before you could peek your head over, instead putting all focus into not toppling backward or even dropping the snacks shoved precariously into your pockets.
You got through it though, with a few grunts and clambered inside, dusting off the front of your jeans as you straightened up to find Brittany in the middle of her bed, just like she had been on her Instagram with a hot water bottle pressed to her stomach. Her eyes were red, her hair was messy, but she was still breathtakingly beautiful and seeing as it had been a solid twelve hours since you'd seen her – you'd chickened out several times whilst attempting to come over earlier – you kind of died when you saw her.
God, you'd missed her more than you could explain.
"Santana," she breathed and just the sound of your name leaving her mouth made you melt. "Why did you just climb through my bedroom window?" She continued, eyes flitting around the room with confusion, but you didn't want to answer that.
"Hey," you got out, and the immediate reaction of grinning at you suddenly showing up announced turned sharply into an unimpressed glare. It sucked hard because it meant she wasn't that pleased to see you, and you shifted around uncomfortably in your spot, fingers picking at the corner of the packet of Dot's in your pocket as you glanced around her room, like it was going to explain why you were there for you.
It didn't, so you just pushed aside the nervous flipping of your stomach, braced yourself and took a step toward the bed, lips sucked into your mouth as you studied her, but she didn't want to be studied and saw it before you could start, breaking the eye contact to focus on the hot water bottle in her grasp. That wasn't something you were used to, Brittany blocking you out, so you stopped moving toward her and instead let your mouth take over as your brain was glitching out.
You had to say something. At least explain why you were there.
"I missed you," left your lips instead though and it wasn't what you were intending to say but you weren't sure what that was so fuck it, that was what you were going with.
Brittany's eyebrows shot up, her body language changing entirely as she sat up, legs crossed, and brows pinched as she stared, showing shock. At least she wasn't glaring anymore and when you thought you saw the corner of her lip twitch, you just kept talking, going into full blown panic mode as you had zero read on the situation.
"I was kind of a bitch earlier, and I didn't know why you got so worked up, but I do now, and I don't say this a lot, so it means something when I do," you rushed out, because you felt like you were being put under the spotlight even though you turned up at her house without prior warning. "But I'm sorry," you breathed and that time, there was no mistaking as you held her gaze.
Her lip was definitely twitching, and you thought it was into a smile, not a snarl, but you weren't willing to take the risk and wait to see.
"So, to make it up to you, I got you some snacks because I thought you might want some junk food," you continued and stopped fingering the packet to pull it out instead, offering it over but blue eyes just dropped to it, no movement made to take the damn thing. "And I was thinking we could watch a movie and eat ourselves into a sugar coma, or I could run you a bath or something," you stuttered, voice wavering as you had no idea where you were going with that, but you thought you were doing a good thing as she was definitely smiling at you, so fucking softly that you were thrown off for a whole other reason.
You still had zero read on the situation, but there wasn't an awkward tension in the atmosphere, and she was biting down on her bottom lip, trying to conceal the grin but you knew she was going to, so you took your shot. You offered a weak smile, lips sucked into your mouth and eyebrows raising like you were showing your vulnerability, which was a statement as you never let your walls down around anyone, but with her…
It was natural and effortless.
However, Brittany showed you that you could trust her, that you could let yourself be vulnerable because she rolled her eyes, huffed out loudly and scooted to the edge of the bed, reaching for your hands and tugging you until you were toppling over on top of her. She giggled, you died again inside but in the best way possible as your body pressed up against her and she wrapped you up in the tightest embrace, halfway down the bed but neither of you gave a damn that you looked ridiculous.
You were ridiculous, and you hated yourself for being such an ass before but in some ways, you liked it because she was rubbing your back, letting you sink into her and you were losing all coherency as you pulled back, propping yourself up on elbows and that wouldn't have happened if you hadn't done what you had. You wouldn't have gotten so close to her for the first time and been able to count the freckles on her cheeks or notice the silver fleck in her right eye for the first time.
"You're an ass," Brittany whined, but her voice was laced with amusement and when she giggled, it made your whole body shake as it was on top of hers and so you joined in, scrunching your face up at her.
"I know," you agreed, pinching your lips to show guilt because you still felt bad. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking, and wasn't considerate, and I'm double sorry that I was late," you whispered and blue eyes darted between your brow ones, momentarily dropping somewhere south of your face but they returned to quickly for you to confirm where that was exactly. "I'll call your friends and tell them I'm a huge bitch and it was my fault you were gonna be late even if you didn't go and–"
A finger pressed to your lips, and the sensation made your whole body vibrate for an entirely different reason, but you were so shocked that all you could do was gulp. She was silencing you, and you cursed yourself for getting slightly aroused at the motion but then she quirked an eyebrow and your blood boiled, and skin set on fire.
The fucking things that girl did to you. All you could think of afterward was how she should've used another part of her body to silence you instead.
"Would you shut up for a second please?" Brittany demanded, but it was soft and teasing and you bit down on your tongue, nodding as much as you could without letting her finger slip from your lips. "Okay, good," she breathed and dropped her hand away, and you had to put supreme effort into not shivering at the loss of contact. "It's okay because like you said, I didn't go anyway, and I'm sorry I was a bitch to you too, and didn't tell you I was on my period," she apologised but you frowned.
You didn't climb up the side of her house and through her window for her to be sorry.
"Britt, no–"
"No," she interrupted, rolling you over until you fell to your back, and she was leaning over you, propped up on her elbow and grinning down with bright eyes. They weren't so red anymore and you couldn't help but wonder if you had the same effect on her that she did on you. Like she just washed all the shit off your shoulders and turned your dark, doomy day into a bright, shining one. "We've both said sorry, so we're good," she confirmed, dipping her head and you lost the ability to breathe when that time – for fucking sure – she stared at your mouth.
And you had felt a lot of things toward that girl in those few weeks of knowing her, but that was a first, because all you felt in that moment was the need to kiss her. To just close the gap between you and press your lips together and you weren't ashamed of being into girls – you had solidly accepted it – but you were scared as you were fairly certain Brittany was too, or at least into guys and girls, but you technically hadn't found out for sure yet.
So you held back on the urge, reeling back and shuffling until you were sat with your back against her headboard, your arm thrown around her shoulders and you were pulling her into you so she could snuggle down, head on your chest. "Okay, fine," you huffed, feigning annoyance and the girl in your arms giggled, tilted her neck to peek up at you. "But you gotta pick the movie and share your Dots with me," you scrunched your nose up.
Brittany grinned widely, already halfway down the bed reaching for the remote and snacks before returning to her position and kissing you on the cheek, lingering longer than usual.
You did something right.
/
You get back to her building, staring up at it with a large paper bag in one arm, filled with snacks and all the weird shit she's craved during the pregnancy, and in the other, you're grasping a bouquet of flowers.
Admittedly, you've already tried going this route as it worked as teenagers, and back then she barely even let you set the things down before pulling you into her arms and it's not like you're expecting or wanting her to do that now, but that's a considerably better possible outcome than any other.
The note you left her on wasn't exactly a good one, and you crack your neck from left to right, taking in a deep breath and gaining composure as you head in and up to the floor her apartment is on, walking slower than usual to elongate the amount of time you have before letting yourself in. The door seems way bigger than usual, almost to the point of intimidation but you just ignore it and slide your key into the lock, pushing it open slowly with your foot and heading inside, eyes already searching the nearby vicinity.
"Britt?"
She doesn't answer, and you know that's not a good thing – she could still be pissed – but you're prepared. This is what you signed up for and you know more than ever now, thanks to Rachel, that this isn't about you. Brittany's hurting, heavily pregnant, moody and all the things in between. If you were her, you'd probably be snapping unnecessarily and doing all the shit she is, too, so you're not mad anymore, and you just really want to cuddle her like you used to until she calms down.
"Brittany?" You call again, setting your keys on the side, alongside the paper bag but you keep hold of the flowers and wander through the apartment. "Where are you?"
Distantly, you hear a clattering and follow the sound down the hallway until you get to your bedroom, pushing open the door with the tips of your fingers and peeking inside, and that's where you find her, rifling through some drawers, tossing clothes behind her. It's kind of amusing to see, so you take a second and pause, leaning against the doorway and all memories of arguing when you left a few hours back just flies out your mind because she's adorable all frustrated and crap.
You don't even know what she's looking for, but you know you need to find out, so you clear your throat and Britttany jolts, spinning around with wide eyes before a hand shoots to her chest, but you still talk first. "Hey."
A smile tugs at her lips instantly, the fury from blue eyes also gone, turning softer as they land on you, and you can't pretend like you don't sigh loudly in relief. She's not mad anymore, either.
"Santana," she replies, and you can hear she's scared by the breathlessness of her voice. "I didn't hear you come in," she says, and you shrug, pushing off the doorway, wandering into the room and it's only then that Brittany notices what's in your hand, vision snapping down to them at the same time her mouth pops open, but nothing comes out. "What–"
"I'm an ass, and I'm sorry," you get out, putting zero pre-empt into what you're saying but you didn't want her to ask why you've bought flowers. Now you're here, you feel kind of lame and seriously regretting not dropping these with the paper bag near the front door.
"And you're an ass too, and we're allowed to be like that to each other as this whole thing is stressful for both of us, but we need to stop because our daughter is gonna be here soon," you trail off, lips sucking into your mouth, and you take in a deep, stuttered breath. "And I don't wanna fight with you."
There's a vulnerability and innocence in your voice that you really didn't think would be there, and she notices immediately as her eyes squint, head tilts but she looks sad at the tone, but then her vision darts back down to the flowers in your hand and you panic all over again. Maybe you shouldn't have bought them.
"Are those for me?" She whispers, and it's not what you were expecting, but you still nod.
"Yeah, I–I thought you might like them," you reply, and you don't know why your cheeks are getting hot, but they are. "I heard that sometimes flowers helps with apologies."
Brittany's face splits into a grin, but she tries to hide it by looking away and something in your chest releases, so you find the confidence to walk over to her and hold out the flowers, still feeling like a total idiot but you don't give a damn this time.
Mostly because she glances back at you, eyes meeting yours and she bites down on her bottom lip as she takes them carefully, scanning over the arrangement and taking in the floral colours and you made a point of picking flowers that had meaning, but you're hoping she isn't too clued up on her floristry skills to know that.
The hope doesn't last long though.
"Are these Forget-Me-Not's?" She asks, her voice quiet but not in a shy way. More in a way that makes you think she's picking up on the significance and shit…
Yes, they're significant but you were sort of relying on her being too focused on your apology and how it echoed a memory from a long time ago to realise the symbolism.
"Yeah, I know you like them and–"
She interrupts by closing her eyes and laughing quietly to herself, and the words just slip back down your throat. "I love them," she says through a low tone, and you stutter out a breath when she looks up at you through long lashes, blinking slowly. "Thank you," she whispers and leans over to drop the flowers to the bed before throwing her arms around your neck and pulling you into a hug without a moment's hesitation.
Which you return, but the dynamic changed so quickly that you're confused. You're not sure why, as the reason you came armed with snacks, flowers and an apology is for this, and you think it over for a second whilst you wrap your arms around your waist and hug her as tight as you can without hurting the bump – even though it's pushing into your stomach – but it just makes your head hurt, so you try to push it away.
But that's really hard to do when Brittany sets her hands on your shoulders after a couple seconds and pulls back but doesn't put enough distance between you and then you're staring at her, barely inches away from her face. Her eyes are a frightening blue, darting between your dark ones and she's breathing steadily but it's all in slow motion as you're a little too close to her now and you can't seem to find the strength to move away.
She has you locked, and because you've been focusing on how to take this negative tension away, you sidelined focusing on removing the other type of tension that's now unwittingly creeped into the atmosphere and it's way too familiar not to recognise. It's happened a thousand times before, and that's usually led to you two sleeping together but the longer you look, and the quicker you realise she's making no moves to back away either and that maybe she doesn't want something dirty…
But she does want to kiss you, and you can't deny that you want to kiss her, too.
The urge is scratching at the back of your brain, making all your muscles tense and inside your head, you're already out in the front room putting the flowers into a vase because that's what you should be doing. That would be a wise idea but making up with her has always been one of your favourite things to do and this is the first fight, or almost fight, that you've had as adults and that's unchartered territory.
As teenagers, you know exactly what you'd be doing but that's entirely inappropriate and you would hate yourself for even considering it, but she's the one who's biting down on her bottom lip and staring deeply into your eyes. She's the one that's steered you into this moment and you're about to say anything to break the moment, but it's like she's reading your thoughts because she just shakes her head, inhales deeply through her nose and then wets her lips, sparing a final glance into your eyes before smiling gently and well…
You almost die.
"Thank you," she whispers, even though she's already said that, and you thought she was going to do something, not say something so you frown but then she grins, noting your confusion and one of her hand drifts from your shoulders to the side of your neck, whilst the other does the same but goes to the base of your skull, and you know for sure you're not thinking the wrong thing here.
"Thank you for handling me and putting up with me," she continues, and you go to argue as obviously you would, she's the mother of your unborn child but you don't think she's saying it because of that because she just cuts you off by talking again.
"Thank you for always supporting me and understanding me when I don't understand myself," she pauses, ignoring the way you're squinting at her as you really weren't expecting a speech. "And thank you for my flowers," she finishes, breathing unsteadily now and it's only then that you realise you are, too, and that your hands have moved down to settle on her hips, gripping gently but tight enough that she'd have to shove them off to get out of your grasp.
But then again.. She is still holding your face, so you don't think that's the plan.
That makes you nervous though. That makes icy fear creep into your veins and chill you to your very core because you never meant to do any of those things, apart from the flowers. You never put any effort into understanding her or handling her even though it's always your pleasure. You don't put up with her because that has negative connotations and you love dealing with every mood she has, even if they all come in one day, but that's not friendly as being with her is effortless… It's easy.
Nothing about you two is friendly anymore, and the only thing left is the physicality which really, you two have had a lifetime of already in the time you spent together as teenagers, and even the first month you two had prior to finding out she was pregnant. You've soaked up so much of each other already and that's just another reason to add to the list of why you should smile, put some distance between you and back away and not think about kissing her, but apparently that list has left the building, along with coherency.
Especially because she wiggles closer, blue eyes drop down to your mouth and then return back to bore into your brown ones and you're locked in. Locked into a staring contest you didn't know you'd even entered, and all sense just drains away when she exhales softly, warm breath coating the lower half of your face, blue eyes sparkling until you're sure you need a pair of sunglasses to shield them.
"Just…" Brittany continues, the one word airy as it leaves her and you swallow against a thickening throat, ignoring the hammering pulse inside your ears. "Just thank you for being you," she finishes.
And you don't know who makes the move, but one second you're swimming in ocean blue and the next, both of you are meeting in the middle and you're tilting your head and she's kissing you. For the first time in fucking months, she's kissing you and you inhale sharply through your nose as fireworks go off behind your eyelids, your feet shuffling closer until her protruding bump is pressing into your abdomen, but you don't care because you just want to be as close as possible.
It's hard to care or think about the consequences of this because Brittany's fucking kissing you and you're kissing her back and all reasons you had not to do it no longer exist because this makes sense. She makes sense, she always has, and you think she's on the same wavelength as you as she smiles against your mouth, hands sliding out from their position to rake through your hair, gripping on to you as she pushes harder, sliding her tongue into your mouth and stealing the breath you try to take in between.
All you can think, all you can smell, all you can feel is Brittany. Even your freaking heart beat is pounding to the sound of her name running circles inside your brain and your knees threaten to buckle when she flicks her tongue against the roof of your mouth, your throat creating a strangled whine because God damn… After all this time, she still has this freaking effect on you.
But all good things come to an end, and after a long moment of kissing her, the need for oxygen gets too much. Nothing inside of you wants to stop, or to face the next few moments as you're fairly sure there needs to be a discussion as to why she just kissed you, but you know you have to and so you break away, but keep your eyes shut and tilt your forehead against hers, but it's only then that you realise she must have knocked the flowers to the floor when your boot skids along something wet on the wooden floor beneath you as you shuffle.
"Britt," you get out, voice hoarse and a sure sign of what you just spent a couple minutes doing, and when she doesn't reply immediately, you reel back to look at her face, just to go into panic mode for the millionth time today when you find her staring at you with wide, blue eyes and the thrill of kissing her turns into regret as you start thinking you somehow read the signs wrong.
Except you didn't.
"No… I… My…" Brittany stutters, her jaw chattering like she's either really freaking cold or flat out terrified and you know the heating is on, but then you peer down between the small space between your bodies and see a small puddle on the floor and your heart stops beating completely when you eye the flowers still on the bed straight after, your mind putting together the very few words that left her mouth.
Because Brittany didn't knock the flowers off the bed…
No. Instead something entirely different happened, and when you hear the next four words, you almost black out.
"My water just broke."
/
Oh snap.