Brittana Fic: Like We Used To
Title: Like We Used To (inspired by this song http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VJHols_u5Vc)
Pairing: Santana/Brittany
Rating: PG
Summary: Santana plays piano, it helps her deal with her emotions.
Spoilers: Kind of a spoiler for Sexy/2.16
Santana sat in the empty auditorium. Her fingers were resting gently on the ivory keys of the grand piano that was always somewhere on the stage. Today it happened to be just left of center. She sighed deeply.
She never told anyone that she played the piano. Her parents had forced her into lessons from the time she was six until she was fifteen and began the Cheerios. They said she needed some kind of “outlet”. She always promised herself if her parents ever asked, which they never did, she’d tell them she hated it. Truthfully, she loved it. It was the first thing she was ever good at. Music came natural to the Latina.
First, when she was young, she could quickly memorize her assigned pieces. After only a few weeks of practice she’d perform even her toughest pieces with perfected ease in front of large crowds that her parents were never apart of.
As she grew older, she moved from simply memorizing the works of others to creating her own. She’d lock herself in the piano room at her house for hours on end until she’d written out all her emotions. Of course it didn’t matter if the door was locked or not, she’d never be disturbed, she was the only one home.
She developed a habit when she first started writing. She found that after finishing a piece she was usually too tired to play it all the way through immediately; so she’d let her pieces sit for a few days, the pieces of sheet music and lyrics scattered about the piano, and then she’d come back and play them over and over. It always started out painful, the memories of what inspired each piece fresh in her mind, but as she played through and repeated, it hurt less each time. It was like removing the stitches from a healing wound.
She never played the songs she wrote for anyone until she was 14. It was late one night summer night. Santana was home alone, as always, and she couldn’t sleep. She’d texted Brittany asking the girl to come over but after half an hour with no reply from the blonde Santana dragged herself out of bed and down to her piano room. There was a piece she’d written a few days ago that she still hadn’t played through yet.
It was her 3rd time through the song and Santana hadn’t even heard Brittany come in. She was lost so deep in the music, so deep in the memory that accompanied this particular piece. She smiled serenely as she finished the song. The smile disappeared as soon as she heard applause behind her. Her head spun around to see her blonde best friend standing against the door smiling so brightly it could’ve lit up the night sky.
“San that was beautiful.” She said, walking over to the piano bench. Santana slid over to allow the girl to sit down next to her.
“Er, thanks.” Santana said nervously.
“I’ve never heard you play piano before.”
“No one has.” Santana said coldly. Plenty of people had heard her play, there were hundreds of people in the audience at her last recital, but Santana didn’t know or care about any of them so to her it might as well have been no one.
“You should play for people.”
“I doubt that anyone wants to listen.” Santana said. My own parents don’t even want to listen, she thought to herself.
“I do.”
“It’s late B, we should go to bed.” Santana said, nervous again. She wasn’t sure she could play the song again without faltering now that someone was watching. Especially if that someone was Brittany. After all Brittany wasn’t just someone, she was someone. At least to Santana she was.
“That song, it was really pretty. I’ve never heard it before.” Brittany said innocently staring over the top of the piano, her fingers tracing patterns on Santana’s thigh.
“Uh yeah. Um that’s because I wrote it.” Santana replied trying to steady her voice. She was really nervous now.
“Wow San. You’re amazing.” Brittany said turning to look into Santana’s eyes. “Play it for me one more time. Please.”
Looking into the bluest, most beautiful eyes that Santana had ever seen she responded from her heart. “Sure B. Anything for you.”
She took a deep breath steeling her nerves and pressing her fingers to the keys. As the first few notes rang out Santana felt Brittany’s head on her shoulder.
“It sounds like a lullaby.” Brittany sighed.
Trusting her muscle memory Santana looked over at the girl sitting beside her. Brittany’s eyes were now closed, a small content smile on her lips. Santana felt herself relax and a smiled appeared on her own lips. She closed her eyes got lost in the piece enjoying having the most important someone listening.
Brittany fell asleep on her shoulder that night while Santana played what is now referred to as “Brittany’s Lullaby”. Santana carried her to bed and fell asleep easily, a smile on her face and her whole world in her arms. This became a routine and eventually Santana recorded it onto a CD so that she and Brittany could listen to it in bed until they fell asleep.
It was many months and many pieces played for Brittany later that the other girl finally figured it out.
“Santana, do you write your music about your feelings?” Brittany asked while lying in bed with Santana one night.
Santana hesitated, feeling herself close off. She’d never talked about why she wrote what she did. She wanted Brittany to know, to understand all of her music, all of her. “Yeah Britt, I do.”
Brittany smiled; she was excited to hear the answer. “What’s my lullaby about?”
Santana smiled, “You.”
“Really?” Brittany’s head shot up.
“Really.” Santana said placing a kiss on the blonde’s lips. “I wrote it after the first time we did that.”
“And the first time we did everything else.” Brittany said giggling.
“Yeah that too.” Santana said giggling right along with her. She couldn’t help but be happy when she remembered that night. The first night she and Brittany had kissed was also the first night they’d had sex. It was also the night Santana realized she was in love with her best friend.
“I think that’s why it’s my favorite one. It always has been. Just like you’re my favorite.” Brittany said nuzzling closer into Santana’s neck. “I love you San.” She said sleepily.
“I love you too Britt.” Santana replied. She smiled remembering the last moments of their night of firsts. It was the first night someone had ever said” I love you” to Santana and it really meant something.
It had been two years since the first night Santana played “Brittany’s Lullaby”. A lot had changed in those two years. Santana and Brittany started high school and made the Cheerios. They went to parties, dated boys, had sex with boys. Santana stopped playing piano and started having sex to try to deal with her emotions. They won National championships with the Cheerios and joined Glee. They made it to the top.
During those two years they didn’t stop sleeping with each other and every night, together or apart, they’d both fall asleep listening to “Brittany’s Lullaby.” But somewhere along the way Santana’s love for Brittany didn’t seem like enough. It wasn’t enough for her to be able to have the popularity and the power and also be public with it. She hid away her relationship and love for Brittany like some dirty little secret that she was ashamed of. Brittany didn’t like that very much.
Brittany wanted to talk about their feelings. She wanted to be in a relationship with Santana, a public one. Santana was afraid of losing what she thought was the most important thing to her, her position as head bitch in charge at school, so she said no. She shut Brittany down and drove her into the arms of someone who wasn’t afraid. And in doing so she truly lost the most important thing in her life.
It’s been two weeks since Santana realized the mistake she made. Two weeks since she came to terms with how she truly felt about Brittany and who she really was. She sang a song to Brittany and the next day she told Brittany everything she felt. She said “I love you” with the most conviction she’d ever put into anything in her life. Brittany chose him.
That night Santana had no one to have sex with, she had no alcohol to drown herself in, and she had no best friend to hold her and tell her everything was going to be alright. Santana was alone. She was alone and found herself sitting at the piano, all the emotions she’d pent up over the last 2 years spilling out of her fingers and resonating off the walls in the form music notes. Her sadness poured out in the words on her lips. For the first time in two years, Santana was writing a song. And like two years ago, this song was inspired by the only someone she had ever loved and the only someone who had ever loved her, Brittany.
She didn’t know what compelled her to seek solace in the empty auditorium today. She sure as hell didn’t know what compelled her to walk on stage and sit at the piano. But now that she was here looking down at the keys her every emotion was swimming just inside her fingers tips and hovering just behind her lips, she had to let them out.
The first notes rang out in the large empty space. Santana was hesitant but as she continued through the intro she, as always, got lost in the music. Her fingers began to stroke the keys just right, not too hard and not to soft, filling the auditorium with the music of her soul. She didn’t hear the door to the auditorium open and close. She didn’t see the two blondes sitting in the back row. One was her former best friend turned enemy turned friend again. The other was the inspiration to the song.
Santana took a deep breath. She opened her mouth and sang her every regret.
I can feel her breath as she’s sleeping next to me,
sharing pillows and cold feet.
She can feel my heart, fell asleep to it’s beat,
under blankets and warm sheets.
If only I could be in that bed again.
If only it were me instead of him.
Does he watch your favorite movie?
Does he hold you when you cry?
Does he let you tell him all your favorite parts when you’ve seen it a million times?
Does he sing to all your music while you dance to purple rain?
Does he do all these things, like I used to?
Santana mentally prepared herself for the next verse. She’d cried when she wrote it, the memory painful. Brittany lost her virginity to a boy three months after Santana did. Brittany’s was a mistake. Santana had blown Brittany off that night for sex with Puck. Brittany was upset and some Neanderthal from the football team took her out. The boy had taken her up to kissing bluff, gotten her drunk, and taken advantage of her. Brittany didn’t say no but she didn’t say yes. She didn’t say anything, she just laid there. He didn’t hurt her, physically. When she got home that night she called Santana bawling. Santana rushed over and comforted her best friend the best she could. She blamed herself for what happened to Brittany that night.
14 months and 7 days ago,
oh I know you know how we felt about that night.
Just your skin against the window, and he took it slow.
But we both know,
It shoulda been me inside that car.
It shoulda been me instead of him in the dark.
Does he watch your favorite movies?
Does he hold you when you cry?
Does he let you tell him all your favorite parts when you’ve seen it a million times?
Does he sing to all your music while you dance to purple rain?
Does he do all these things, like I used to.
I know love, happens all the time love.
You’re on my mind, love.
And that happens all the time love, yeah.
Santana felt the tears begin to fall as she moved into the final part of the song. She was letting go. She regretted not being able to be everything Brittany deserved but she didn’t want to hold the girl back anymore. She wanted Brittany to be happy and obviously he did that for her. Santana wasn’t going to stand in the way.
Will he love you like I loved you?
Will he tell you every day?
Will he make you feel like you’re invincible with every word he’ll say?
Can you promise me if this one’s right?
Don’t throw it all away.
Can you do all these things, will you do all these things, like we used to?
Oh like we used to.
Santana’s voice cracked on the last line. Her heart was heavy remembering all of her memories with the girl she loved. She was full out sobbing now, tears streaming down her face and heart pounding in her ears. She didn’t hear the auditorium door open and close. She didn’t hear the footsteps of someone coming up behind her.
“She said no.” Santana faintly heard a voice behind her, a voice she recognized. She froze. She couldn’t let anyone see her like this but especially not her. She did her best to wipe away her tears and normalize her voice. She turned around.
“What’d you say Fabray?” Santana attempted to spit out in her head bitch in charge voice. Instead it came out raspy and broken.
“She said no. She can’t.” Quinn replied, her voice soft, unarmed.
Santana softened. Tears filled her eyes again. Brittany had heard her song. She’d heard the song and she knew who it was for, what it meant. She broke down.
“I blew it Quinn. I’ve known for two years but then I was so scared. I didn’t know how to handle it and I pushed her away. She was the only person who ever loved me. And now she’s gone.” Santana sobbed.
Quinn sat down next to her crying friend and put her arm around her. She didn’t know what to say, Santana had messed up on this one and Brittany was the only one who could make it better.
Backstage a door opened and closed. Santana felt Quinn’s arm leave her shoulder and heard Quinn’s footsteps as she walked away. She heard whispers in the wings and then more footsteps coming back to where she was sitting, her head resting on the piano tears still streaming down her cheeks. She didn’t bother looking up to see who it was. She figured Quinn had gotten rid of whoever had come in and then come back to sit with her. After all they’d been through Quinn was still a good friend. Santana vowed to be nicer to Quinn after this, to be nicer to everyone. Her reputation as a bitch didn’t matter to her anymore. Nothing mattered; she’d lost the only thing that ever did.
Suddenly music could be heard in the empty space. Not just any music. Santana recognized that song. She’d written it. There was only one other person who’d heard it, who had access to it.
Santana lifted her head and saw Brittany’s iPod sitting on the piano, her lullaby playing. She wanted to speak, to say apologize; to say how much she loved her but that she couldn’t be what Brittany deserved.
“Britt.” Was all she managed to say before her voice gave out and a fresh wave of tears fell.
“Shhh.” Brittany said. She leaned over and put her head on Santana’s shoulder, laced their fingers together, closed her eyes and enjoyed her lullaby.
Santana didn’t protest. She closed her eyes and enjoyed this moment too, getting lost in the music, remembering the first time this happened and thinking that this would probably be the last.
When the song was over Brittany spoke.
“San,” her voice is innocent, reminiscent of that night two years ago. She looked up into Santana’s eyes, “can we do all these things like we used to?”
Looking into the bluest, most beautiful eyes that Santana has ever seen she responds from her heart. “Sure B. Anything for you.”
Pairing: Santana/Brittany
Rating: PG
Summary: Santana plays piano, it helps her deal with her emotions.
Spoilers: Kind of a spoiler for Sexy/2.16
Santana sat in the empty auditorium. Her fingers were resting gently on the ivory keys of the grand piano that was always somewhere on the stage. Today it happened to be just left of center. She sighed deeply.
She never told anyone that she played the piano. Her parents had forced her into lessons from the time she was six until she was fifteen and began the Cheerios. They said she needed some kind of “outlet”. She always promised herself if her parents ever asked, which they never did, she’d tell them she hated it. Truthfully, she loved it. It was the first thing she was ever good at. Music came natural to the Latina.
First, when she was young, she could quickly memorize her assigned pieces. After only a few weeks of practice she’d perform even her toughest pieces with perfected ease in front of large crowds that her parents were never apart of.
As she grew older, she moved from simply memorizing the works of others to creating her own. She’d lock herself in the piano room at her house for hours on end until she’d written out all her emotions. Of course it didn’t matter if the door was locked or not, she’d never be disturbed, she was the only one home.
She developed a habit when she first started writing. She found that after finishing a piece she was usually too tired to play it all the way through immediately; so she’d let her pieces sit for a few days, the pieces of sheet music and lyrics scattered about the piano, and then she’d come back and play them over and over. It always started out painful, the memories of what inspired each piece fresh in her mind, but as she played through and repeated, it hurt less each time. It was like removing the stitches from a healing wound.
She never played the songs she wrote for anyone until she was 14. It was late one night summer night. Santana was home alone, as always, and she couldn’t sleep. She’d texted Brittany asking the girl to come over but after half an hour with no reply from the blonde Santana dragged herself out of bed and down to her piano room. There was a piece she’d written a few days ago that she still hadn’t played through yet.
It was her 3rd time through the song and Santana hadn’t even heard Brittany come in. She was lost so deep in the music, so deep in the memory that accompanied this particular piece. She smiled serenely as she finished the song. The smile disappeared as soon as she heard applause behind her. Her head spun around to see her blonde best friend standing against the door smiling so brightly it could’ve lit up the night sky.
“San that was beautiful.” She said, walking over to the piano bench. Santana slid over to allow the girl to sit down next to her.
“Er, thanks.” Santana said nervously.
“I’ve never heard you play piano before.”
“No one has.” Santana said coldly. Plenty of people had heard her play, there were hundreds of people in the audience at her last recital, but Santana didn’t know or care about any of them so to her it might as well have been no one.
“You should play for people.”
“I doubt that anyone wants to listen.” Santana said. My own parents don’t even want to listen, she thought to herself.
“I do.”
“It’s late B, we should go to bed.” Santana said, nervous again. She wasn’t sure she could play the song again without faltering now that someone was watching. Especially if that someone was Brittany. After all Brittany wasn’t just someone, she was someone. At least to Santana she was.
“That song, it was really pretty. I’ve never heard it before.” Brittany said innocently staring over the top of the piano, her fingers tracing patterns on Santana’s thigh.
“Uh yeah. Um that’s because I wrote it.” Santana replied trying to steady her voice. She was really nervous now.
“Wow San. You’re amazing.” Brittany said turning to look into Santana’s eyes. “Play it for me one more time. Please.”
Looking into the bluest, most beautiful eyes that Santana had ever seen she responded from her heart. “Sure B. Anything for you.”
She took a deep breath steeling her nerves and pressing her fingers to the keys. As the first few notes rang out Santana felt Brittany’s head on her shoulder.
“It sounds like a lullaby.” Brittany sighed.
Trusting her muscle memory Santana looked over at the girl sitting beside her. Brittany’s eyes were now closed, a small content smile on her lips. Santana felt herself relax and a smiled appeared on her own lips. She closed her eyes got lost in the piece enjoying having the most important someone listening.
Brittany fell asleep on her shoulder that night while Santana played what is now referred to as “Brittany’s Lullaby”. Santana carried her to bed and fell asleep easily, a smile on her face and her whole world in her arms. This became a routine and eventually Santana recorded it onto a CD so that she and Brittany could listen to it in bed until they fell asleep.
It was many months and many pieces played for Brittany later that the other girl finally figured it out.
“Santana, do you write your music about your feelings?” Brittany asked while lying in bed with Santana one night.
Santana hesitated, feeling herself close off. She’d never talked about why she wrote what she did. She wanted Brittany to know, to understand all of her music, all of her. “Yeah Britt, I do.”
Brittany smiled; she was excited to hear the answer. “What’s my lullaby about?”
Santana smiled, “You.”
“Really?” Brittany’s head shot up.
“Really.” Santana said placing a kiss on the blonde’s lips. “I wrote it after the first time we did that.”
“And the first time we did everything else.” Brittany said giggling.
“Yeah that too.” Santana said giggling right along with her. She couldn’t help but be happy when she remembered that night. The first night she and Brittany had kissed was also the first night they’d had sex. It was also the night Santana realized she was in love with her best friend.
“I think that’s why it’s my favorite one. It always has been. Just like you’re my favorite.” Brittany said nuzzling closer into Santana’s neck. “I love you San.” She said sleepily.
“I love you too Britt.” Santana replied. She smiled remembering the last moments of their night of firsts. It was the first night someone had ever said” I love you” to Santana and it really meant something.
It had been two years since the first night Santana played “Brittany’s Lullaby”. A lot had changed in those two years. Santana and Brittany started high school and made the Cheerios. They went to parties, dated boys, had sex with boys. Santana stopped playing piano and started having sex to try to deal with her emotions. They won National championships with the Cheerios and joined Glee. They made it to the top.
During those two years they didn’t stop sleeping with each other and every night, together or apart, they’d both fall asleep listening to “Brittany’s Lullaby.” But somewhere along the way Santana’s love for Brittany didn’t seem like enough. It wasn’t enough for her to be able to have the popularity and the power and also be public with it. She hid away her relationship and love for Brittany like some dirty little secret that she was ashamed of. Brittany didn’t like that very much.
Brittany wanted to talk about their feelings. She wanted to be in a relationship with Santana, a public one. Santana was afraid of losing what she thought was the most important thing to her, her position as head bitch in charge at school, so she said no. She shut Brittany down and drove her into the arms of someone who wasn’t afraid. And in doing so she truly lost the most important thing in her life.
It’s been two weeks since Santana realized the mistake she made. Two weeks since she came to terms with how she truly felt about Brittany and who she really was. She sang a song to Brittany and the next day she told Brittany everything she felt. She said “I love you” with the most conviction she’d ever put into anything in her life. Brittany chose him.
That night Santana had no one to have sex with, she had no alcohol to drown herself in, and she had no best friend to hold her and tell her everything was going to be alright. Santana was alone. She was alone and found herself sitting at the piano, all the emotions she’d pent up over the last 2 years spilling out of her fingers and resonating off the walls in the form music notes. Her sadness poured out in the words on her lips. For the first time in two years, Santana was writing a song. And like two years ago, this song was inspired by the only someone she had ever loved and the only someone who had ever loved her, Brittany.
She didn’t know what compelled her to seek solace in the empty auditorium today. She sure as hell didn’t know what compelled her to walk on stage and sit at the piano. But now that she was here looking down at the keys her every emotion was swimming just inside her fingers tips and hovering just behind her lips, she had to let them out.
The first notes rang out in the large empty space. Santana was hesitant but as she continued through the intro she, as always, got lost in the music. Her fingers began to stroke the keys just right, not too hard and not to soft, filling the auditorium with the music of her soul. She didn’t hear the door to the auditorium open and close. She didn’t see the two blondes sitting in the back row. One was her former best friend turned enemy turned friend again. The other was the inspiration to the song.
Santana took a deep breath. She opened her mouth and sang her every regret.
I can feel her breath as she’s sleeping next to me,
sharing pillows and cold feet.
She can feel my heart, fell asleep to it’s beat,
under blankets and warm sheets.
If only I could be in that bed again.
If only it were me instead of him.
Does he watch your favorite movie?
Does he hold you when you cry?
Does he let you tell him all your favorite parts when you’ve seen it a million times?
Does he sing to all your music while you dance to purple rain?
Does he do all these things, like I used to?
Santana mentally prepared herself for the next verse. She’d cried when she wrote it, the memory painful. Brittany lost her virginity to a boy three months after Santana did. Brittany’s was a mistake. Santana had blown Brittany off that night for sex with Puck. Brittany was upset and some Neanderthal from the football team took her out. The boy had taken her up to kissing bluff, gotten her drunk, and taken advantage of her. Brittany didn’t say no but she didn’t say yes. She didn’t say anything, she just laid there. He didn’t hurt her, physically. When she got home that night she called Santana bawling. Santana rushed over and comforted her best friend the best she could. She blamed herself for what happened to Brittany that night.
14 months and 7 days ago,
oh I know you know how we felt about that night.
Just your skin against the window, and he took it slow.
But we both know,
It shoulda been me inside that car.
It shoulda been me instead of him in the dark.
Does he watch your favorite movies?
Does he hold you when you cry?
Does he let you tell him all your favorite parts when you’ve seen it a million times?
Does he sing to all your music while you dance to purple rain?
Does he do all these things, like I used to.
I know love, happens all the time love.
You’re on my mind, love.
And that happens all the time love, yeah.
Santana felt the tears begin to fall as she moved into the final part of the song. She was letting go. She regretted not being able to be everything Brittany deserved but she didn’t want to hold the girl back anymore. She wanted Brittany to be happy and obviously he did that for her. Santana wasn’t going to stand in the way.
Will he love you like I loved you?
Will he tell you every day?
Will he make you feel like you’re invincible with every word he’ll say?
Can you promise me if this one’s right?
Don’t throw it all away.
Can you do all these things, will you do all these things, like we used to?
Oh like we used to.
Santana’s voice cracked on the last line. Her heart was heavy remembering all of her memories with the girl she loved. She was full out sobbing now, tears streaming down her face and heart pounding in her ears. She didn’t hear the auditorium door open and close. She didn’t hear the footsteps of someone coming up behind her.
“She said no.” Santana faintly heard a voice behind her, a voice she recognized. She froze. She couldn’t let anyone see her like this but especially not her. She did her best to wipe away her tears and normalize her voice. She turned around.
“What’d you say Fabray?” Santana attempted to spit out in her head bitch in charge voice. Instead it came out raspy and broken.
“She said no. She can’t.” Quinn replied, her voice soft, unarmed.
Santana softened. Tears filled her eyes again. Brittany had heard her song. She’d heard the song and she knew who it was for, what it meant. She broke down.
“I blew it Quinn. I’ve known for two years but then I was so scared. I didn’t know how to handle it and I pushed her away. She was the only person who ever loved me. And now she’s gone.” Santana sobbed.
Quinn sat down next to her crying friend and put her arm around her. She didn’t know what to say, Santana had messed up on this one and Brittany was the only one who could make it better.
Backstage a door opened and closed. Santana felt Quinn’s arm leave her shoulder and heard Quinn’s footsteps as she walked away. She heard whispers in the wings and then more footsteps coming back to where she was sitting, her head resting on the piano tears still streaming down her cheeks. She didn’t bother looking up to see who it was. She figured Quinn had gotten rid of whoever had come in and then come back to sit with her. After all they’d been through Quinn was still a good friend. Santana vowed to be nicer to Quinn after this, to be nicer to everyone. Her reputation as a bitch didn’t matter to her anymore. Nothing mattered; she’d lost the only thing that ever did.
Suddenly music could be heard in the empty space. Not just any music. Santana recognized that song. She’d written it. There was only one other person who’d heard it, who had access to it.
Santana lifted her head and saw Brittany’s iPod sitting on the piano, her lullaby playing. She wanted to speak, to say apologize; to say how much she loved her but that she couldn’t be what Brittany deserved.
“Britt.” Was all she managed to say before her voice gave out and a fresh wave of tears fell.
“Shhh.” Brittany said. She leaned over and put her head on Santana’s shoulder, laced their fingers together, closed her eyes and enjoyed her lullaby.
Santana didn’t protest. She closed her eyes and enjoyed this moment too, getting lost in the music, remembering the first time this happened and thinking that this would probably be the last.
When the song was over Brittany spoke.
“San,” her voice is innocent, reminiscent of that night two years ago. She looked up into Santana’s eyes, “can we do all these things like we used to?”
Looking into the bluest, most beautiful eyes that Santana has ever seen she responds from her heart. “Sure B. Anything for you.”