Title: I Tell the Stars Each Night (8/13, part I)
Title: I Tell the Stars Each Night (8/13)
Pairings: Santana/Brittany, Rachel/Quinn
Other relationships: Pezberry, Quinntana, Quitt, and Brittberry friendship
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: S2
Disclaimer: Glee is not mine
Wednesday, July 27 / 10:48pm
When Santana's rational brain finally broke through the haze that had descended when Rachel started kissing her, it happened all at once, like she'd been struck by a bolt of lightning. Her eyes flew open, and she grabbed Rachel's hands on the small of her back, practically flinging them back at her.
Rachel staggered backwards dizzily. In the next two seconds, Santana watched as her face fell through a cascade of emotions - first stunned, then angry, then utterly horrified.
Rachel put her hand over her mouth. "Oh my God."
"Wait, Rachel, don't -" Santana started to say, but it was too late to finish her sentence with "freak out," because Rachel had exited the dance floor at a sprint, and was already pushing past the line of waiting girls to get to through the bathroom door.
"Fuck," Santana cursed under her breath, and followed Rachel through the crowd.
"You are in so much troooouuble!" the girl who had hit on her at the bar called out as Santana rushed past.
Rachel had barreled through the ladies room line like a drunken torpedo, but Santana was too sober to be quite so pushy. By the time she caught up, Rachel had cut the line and locked herself in a stall. Santana crouched down to locate Rachel's shoes, then knocked on the corresponding door.
"Rachel, come out and talk to me, okay?"
"I might throw up," Rachel's thin, disembodied voice replied miserably.
"I don't care, okay? Just open the door."
After a pause, Santana heard the lock slide out of place and the door opened a few inches.
"Hey, there's a line back here!" a girl shouted at her from a few places back in line.
"Oh, yeah? You wanna join us in here, baby? I'll make sure when she pukes it lands on your shoes," Santana shot back.
Santana opened the door a bit further and slid inside, then locked it behind her. Rachel leaned against the thin metal wall, her hands resting on her thighs just above her knees.
"Are you okay?" Santana asked, putting one hand on Rachel's back.
"No," Rachel said in a whimper. "I feel sick. And I'm the most embarrassed I've ever been in my life."
"It's. . .it's no big deal, Rachel."
"I would almost believe you if you didn't sound like you were about to throw up, too."
"Look, if I had five bucks for every person I kissed accidentally when I was drunk, I could buy a Breadstix franchise. Shit happens when there's vodka, all right?"
"It's nice that you're trying to let me off the hook," Rachel said, letting her head fall forward so that her hair dangled in front of her. "But I'm not too drunk to know that was messed up."
"Berry, let's not get your hair in the toilet, okay?" Santana said, taking her by the shoulders to stand her upright.
Rachel closed her eyes and slumped against the wall. "Mmfff, too fast," she complained, wobbling in an unsteady circle.
But now that she was upright, Rachel met Santana's eyes for the first time since fleeing the dance floor. Immediately, her face scrunched up, and the tears began.
"God, Santana, I didn't mean to," she said. "I wasn't trying to like, you know-"
"I know, Rachel," Santana said.
"I'm so used to coming to you when I feel this lonely, and rejected, and STUPID. Please tell me I didn't ruin everything, like, our friendship."
Santana took a step forward and let Rachel lean into her shoulder, placing two reassuring hands on her back. Rachel clutched at the back of Santana's shirt.
"Does it feel like you've ruined it?" Santana asked.
Rachel hugged her gratefully, burying her face in Santana's shoulder.
"Do you want me to call Brittany and apologize? I'll do it right now - I'll explain what an idiot I am."
"That's okay, Berry. I think you'd better let me explain how much of an idiot you are."
Rachel sniffled out a syllable that was half laugh and half whimper.
"Just when I thought I couldn't feel any crappier, I go and prove myself wrong."
"Everybody will understand, Rachel, including Brittany."
"I'm just so sad, you know? And it won't go away. I think it's making me crazy," Rachel said, wiping tears from the eye that was not resting against Santana. "It sucks."
"I know," Santana said, cradling the back of Rachel's head with her hand.
"Nobody ever wannfffmg-HIC-mgghhp me," Rachel said, her words muffled by Santana's shoulder and a hiccup.
"Okay, I did not catch that one at all, Sniffly McBlubberpants," Santana said. "Try again."
Rachel turned her head toward the center of Santana's chest.
"I said, nobody ever wants to keep me. Not Finn, not you, not Quinn. Everybody always wants someone else more."
Santana grimaced, and squeezed Rachel. "You know Quinn wants to keep you. You know that."
Rachel shook her head glumly.
"She has a funny way of showing it."
"Yeah, I know."
"Santana?"
"Yeah?"
"Wait, I - I probably should not ask you this now that I think about it. My mind clearly has a mouth - I mean, my mouth clearly has a mind of its own at the present time."
"Well, either way you already opened it. Now you have to go ahead."
Rachel paused for a moment, as if gathering her courage.
"Do you think that ever. . . like if there were no Brittany, and if Quinn hadn't liked me. . . do you think that ever. . . you might have wanted to keep me?"
"Berry," Santana sighed, looking up at the ceiling, "You're killing me, here."
"I'm sorry," Rachel said, shaking her head. "I'm so drunk. I knew I shouldn't have asked it."
Santana sighed.
"Sometimes, Berry," she said, "Sometimes I think we got out just in time. Right before shit between us got really fucking complicated."
Rachel nodded thoughtfully against Santana's shoulder. "Yeah."
"I really love you, you know," she said. "You probably think I'm just being drunk and I don't mean it, and, you know, maybe you're right and I wouldn't say it if I was not currently wasted, but really it is true."
Rachel punctuated her words by poking her index finger into the middle of Santana's chest. She hiccupped twice before continuing.
"It's so funny. Don't you think it's funny? I used to hate you but now I don't, because now I love you and Brittany both. Santana, did you and Quinn ever discuss how you both secretly liked me? Did you make an official pact to torment me, so no one would know?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, hobbit. I never liked you."
Rachel smiled. But it faded right away as the next round of thoughts flooded in.
"Santana, do you know who I do not love? Quinn," Rachel answered, before Santana had time to take a wild guess. "I need to tell her that. I think I should call her and tell her that, because the last she heard, it was the opposite of that."
Rachel withdrew her arms from around Santana and slid her phone out of her bra.
"Uh uh, not so fast," Santana said, taking the phone from her hand. "You know better than that, munchkin. No drunk dialing the ex-girlfriend."
"No, you're right," Rachel said, her eyes downcast. "That would be stupid." She held out her hand for Santana to place the phone back in her possession.
"I'm going to drunk TEXT." Before Santana could react, Rachel elbowed her out of the stall and locked the door behind her.
"Really?" Santana said, banging on the door with her palm. "This is the thanks I get for letting you get snot all over my shoulder?"
"This will only take a moment!" Rachel said. "And then I will become nice once more!"
Santana considered crawling under the door of the stall, but they were making enough of a spectacle as it was. She sighed, and leaned against the sink to wait. She took out her phone and sent Quinn one text message.
She's really drunk. I tried to stop her.
...
Eventually, her anger spent via text message, Rachel allowed herself to be herded back out to the booth where the rest of their group was waiting.
"Is she okay?" Sam asked, eyeing Rachel as she slumped against Santana's side.
"She's fine. We have a case of the drunk weepies going on, but we're fine, right Berry?"
Rachel nodded miserably.
"Can you guys watch her for a minute?" Santana asked the group at large. "I couldn't actually USE the restroom with her blubbering all over me."
"I got it, go ahead," Puck said, transferring Rachel to his side and sitting down with her in the booth.
You okay? he mouthed to Santana over the top of Rachel's head.
Santana shrugged, which was the most honest answer she could give him. She turned and headed for the bathroom.
More than anything, she felt exhausted. And that really sucked, because she knew the night wasn't nearly over. Washing her hands at the sink, a few shaky, silent sobs escaped her. For Rachel, for herself, for Brittany, even Quinn? She couldn't say.
She touched up her eye makeup before rejoining her friends.
"Warn us if you have to puke, you got that?" Santana urged as they loaded Rachel into the back of Blaine's car.
"I will," Rachel assured her.
"You and Brittany are so lucky," she sighed, slumping against Santana as Blaine pulled out of the club's parking lot. "You guys have to get married. Do you promise you'll get married?"
"I should probably ask Brittany first before I promise, don't you think?" Santana elbowed her gently.
"I guess that is fair," Rachel conceded. "When you get married, though, you have to let me plan your wedding. I'll plan everything for you, and you'll say you hate it, but secretly you'll like it, just like how you secretly liked me."
"Berry."
"What?"
"Did you just ask to be my maid of honor?"
"Nooo, I would never do that," Rachel said, drawing her knees up to her chest and leaning her head against Santana's shoulder with a smile. "We hate each other."
...
Brittany met them on the front porch of her house, and helped Santana get Rachel up the stairs. Together, they tucked her in for the night on what the members of the Pierce family had come to accept was "her" couch in the family room. They left her a glass of water, a couple of painkillers, and a wastebasket just in case, before tiptoeing up to Brittany's room.
It had been one of the longest car rides of Santana's life, this trip home from Toledo. She never considered for a moment not telling Brittany what had happened, though the thought of it had her heart pounding painfully in her chest. For one thing, half of the glee club had seen it happen. It wasn't like it could be kept from her anyway.
And the other, probably more important reason was, it had helped her come to few realizations.
Santana caught Brittany's hand as she was heading for the bathroom to brush her teeth.
"Wait, can I talk to you?" she asked in a small voice.
Brittany nodded, and Santana guided her to the bed where they sat facing each other, legs crossed in front of them.
Santana took Brittany's hands. "I have to tell you something that happened tonight."
"Okay," Brittany said.
"Rachel got really drunk."
"I know, Quinn told me."
"Quinn?"
"Yeah, I went to her house."
"Oh. Okay, well anyway Brittany, she. . . Rachel kissed me."
Santana held her breath. She thought she saw Brittany's shoulders stiffen, but her face was unreadable as she asked, simply, "What?"
"It happened while we were dancing," Santana explained, the tears beginning to burn the backs of her eyes and the top of her nose. "I was totally caught off guard."
Brittany's cheeks felt hot. For some reason she felt like she couldn't look at Santana's face, and the words she wanted to say got stuck in her throat.
"I'm so, so sorry, Brittany," Santana was saying. "And Rachel is, too. She feels terrible, and she's really worried that you're going to be mad at her."
"I'm not mad at her," Brittany said, because these words were easy to get right out. "She was sad and drunk."
But she still wasn't looking at Santana.
"And me?" Santana asked quietly.
"Did you kiss Rachel back?"
Santana squeezed her eyes shut and tears fell. "At first, yeah, I did," she said. "She surprised me, and it was familiar and everything. But, I stopped as soon as I realized what I was doing."
Brittany felt a little dizzy.
"I'm so, so sorry, Brittany," Santana said again. "But, listen, there are other things I wanted to tell you, too. While we were there, before anything bad happened, I met this group of guys. They were Kurt and Blaine's friends, and they go to Toledo, and they were super, super gay. Brittany, I decided I want to go there. With you. I'm not going to go to USC, I want to go with you."
"I accept your apology, Santana," Brittany said dully, finally looking Santana in the eye. "I feel upset in my stomach, but my brain believes you. You don't have to promise me you'll go to Toledo just to get me to forgive you."
"I'm not," Santana shook her head. "Because, Britt, I realized something tonight. I realized that like, there are other people in the world who maybe I could like. Or if things happened differently, ones I could even love. But I don't want to, Brittany. I don't, because I want to love you. I always have, and like - I picked you before I even knew it."
She paused, but Brittany said nothing.
"Are you hearing me, Britt?" she prompted softly.
"Are you just saying this stuff because you feel bad?"
"No. No, trust me, I feel fucking horrible, Brittany, but I feel really happy, too. I feel so grateful, you know? To have you. That's what. . . that's exactly what I'm trying to tell you."
Brittany gave Santana a begrudging smile. "Okay."
"So are we okay?"
"Yeah, Santana."
Santana returned Brittany's smile, the relief flooding her whole body, and leaned forward and hugged her.
"I'll never do anything like that again, okay? I promise."
"Yeah."
When they broke the hug, Brittany reached across to Santana's face and wiped the tears from her cheeks. She looked at Santana for a minute, thinking.
"Santana," she said. "I have to ask you for permission to get something. Quinn says it's called 'closure.'"
...
Saturday, July 30 / 1:12pm
"You seem better, Rachel," Brittany said, sipping her soda.
"Thank you, Brittany! I feel better," Rachel said, smiling cheerfully and dipping a French fry enthusiastically into a blob of ketchup.
"Well, I feel awful, if anyone cares," Santana volunteered. "I can't believe I agreed to eat at a Denny's."
"But, you ate your whole salad," Brittany pointed out.
"That doesn't mean I've retained my dignity."
Rachel continued, ignoring Santana.
"Having hit what can only be considered rock bottom the other night, I'm determined not to let this unfortunate situation with you-know-who ruin the rest of my summer. I still have my summer plans, not to mention my very first community theater role. I'm officially moving on."
Santana sighed. It was nice, for sure, to have Rachel off of the couch and out in the world, especially with no vodka involved. But this talk of moving on was depressing her. She scowled.
"Are you sure you don't want to try to bring Quinn to her senses first? Send her naked pictures or something? I mean, have you even tried that?"
"Santana," Rachel said, sitting up straight and leaning forward intently, "The definition of insanity is repeating the same thing and expecting different results. I've spent far too much of my young life pining over someone who has clearly moved on. I did that with Finn, and I refuse to repeat the mistakes of my past. No - Rachel Berry is going relationship-free. No more commitment, no more rebound sex. I'm going to try something new - I'm going to date. I'm going to date multiple people. I'm going to play the field, if you will."
Santana scowled harder.
"Are you going to date boys or girls?" Brittany asked.
"Excellent question, Brittany! And the answer is. . . I have no idea. I don't know. Maybe both. Whoever is attractive to me at the time. Maybe boys, because that's simpler. I don't know, we'll have to see. Anyway, onward ladies! I've scheduled us all an afternoon at the spa for mani-pedis. I want a refreshed look that says Rachel Berry is single and looking, but not for anything serious, because I'm just getting over a breakup that shattered my heart into a million pieces."
"She's really hyper," Brittany said to Santana as they climbed out of their booth.
"I'm going to punch Quinn in the throat," Santana replied.
Pairings: Santana/Brittany, Rachel/Quinn
Other relationships: Pezberry, Quinntana, Quitt, and Brittberry friendship
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: S2
Disclaimer: Glee is not mine
Wednesday, July 27 / 10:48pm
When Santana's rational brain finally broke through the haze that had descended when Rachel started kissing her, it happened all at once, like she'd been struck by a bolt of lightning. Her eyes flew open, and she grabbed Rachel's hands on the small of her back, practically flinging them back at her.
Rachel staggered backwards dizzily. In the next two seconds, Santana watched as her face fell through a cascade of emotions - first stunned, then angry, then utterly horrified.
Rachel put her hand over her mouth. "Oh my God."
"Wait, Rachel, don't -" Santana started to say, but it was too late to finish her sentence with "freak out," because Rachel had exited the dance floor at a sprint, and was already pushing past the line of waiting girls to get to through the bathroom door.
"Fuck," Santana cursed under her breath, and followed Rachel through the crowd.
"You are in so much troooouuble!" the girl who had hit on her at the bar called out as Santana rushed past.
Rachel had barreled through the ladies room line like a drunken torpedo, but Santana was too sober to be quite so pushy. By the time she caught up, Rachel had cut the line and locked herself in a stall. Santana crouched down to locate Rachel's shoes, then knocked on the corresponding door.
"Rachel, come out and talk to me, okay?"
"I might throw up," Rachel's thin, disembodied voice replied miserably.
"I don't care, okay? Just open the door."
After a pause, Santana heard the lock slide out of place and the door opened a few inches.
"Hey, there's a line back here!" a girl shouted at her from a few places back in line.
"Oh, yeah? You wanna join us in here, baby? I'll make sure when she pukes it lands on your shoes," Santana shot back.
Santana opened the door a bit further and slid inside, then locked it behind her. Rachel leaned against the thin metal wall, her hands resting on her thighs just above her knees.
"Are you okay?" Santana asked, putting one hand on Rachel's back.
"No," Rachel said in a whimper. "I feel sick. And I'm the most embarrassed I've ever been in my life."
"It's. . .it's no big deal, Rachel."
"I would almost believe you if you didn't sound like you were about to throw up, too."
"Look, if I had five bucks for every person I kissed accidentally when I was drunk, I could buy a Breadstix franchise. Shit happens when there's vodka, all right?"
"It's nice that you're trying to let me off the hook," Rachel said, letting her head fall forward so that her hair dangled in front of her. "But I'm not too drunk to know that was messed up."
"Berry, let's not get your hair in the toilet, okay?" Santana said, taking her by the shoulders to stand her upright.
Rachel closed her eyes and slumped against the wall. "Mmfff, too fast," she complained, wobbling in an unsteady circle.
But now that she was upright, Rachel met Santana's eyes for the first time since fleeing the dance floor. Immediately, her face scrunched up, and the tears began.
"God, Santana, I didn't mean to," she said. "I wasn't trying to like, you know-"
"I know, Rachel," Santana said.
"I'm so used to coming to you when I feel this lonely, and rejected, and STUPID. Please tell me I didn't ruin everything, like, our friendship."
Santana took a step forward and let Rachel lean into her shoulder, placing two reassuring hands on her back. Rachel clutched at the back of Santana's shirt.
"Does it feel like you've ruined it?" Santana asked.
Rachel hugged her gratefully, burying her face in Santana's shoulder.
"Do you want me to call Brittany and apologize? I'll do it right now - I'll explain what an idiot I am."
"That's okay, Berry. I think you'd better let me explain how much of an idiot you are."
Rachel sniffled out a syllable that was half laugh and half whimper.
"Just when I thought I couldn't feel any crappier, I go and prove myself wrong."
"Everybody will understand, Rachel, including Brittany."
"I'm just so sad, you know? And it won't go away. I think it's making me crazy," Rachel said, wiping tears from the eye that was not resting against Santana. "It sucks."
"I know," Santana said, cradling the back of Rachel's head with her hand.
"Nobody ever wannfffmg-HIC-mgghhp me," Rachel said, her words muffled by Santana's shoulder and a hiccup.
"Okay, I did not catch that one at all, Sniffly McBlubberpants," Santana said. "Try again."
Rachel turned her head toward the center of Santana's chest.
"I said, nobody ever wants to keep me. Not Finn, not you, not Quinn. Everybody always wants someone else more."
Santana grimaced, and squeezed Rachel. "You know Quinn wants to keep you. You know that."
Rachel shook her head glumly.
"She has a funny way of showing it."
"Yeah, I know."
"Santana?"
"Yeah?"
"Wait, I - I probably should not ask you this now that I think about it. My mind clearly has a mouth - I mean, my mouth clearly has a mind of its own at the present time."
"Well, either way you already opened it. Now you have to go ahead."
Rachel paused for a moment, as if gathering her courage.
"Do you think that ever. . . like if there were no Brittany, and if Quinn hadn't liked me. . . do you think that ever. . . you might have wanted to keep me?"
"Berry," Santana sighed, looking up at the ceiling, "You're killing me, here."
"I'm sorry," Rachel said, shaking her head. "I'm so drunk. I knew I shouldn't have asked it."
Santana sighed.
"Sometimes, Berry," she said, "Sometimes I think we got out just in time. Right before shit between us got really fucking complicated."
Rachel nodded thoughtfully against Santana's shoulder. "Yeah."
"I really love you, you know," she said. "You probably think I'm just being drunk and I don't mean it, and, you know, maybe you're right and I wouldn't say it if I was not currently wasted, but really it is true."
Rachel punctuated her words by poking her index finger into the middle of Santana's chest. She hiccupped twice before continuing.
"It's so funny. Don't you think it's funny? I used to hate you but now I don't, because now I love you and Brittany both. Santana, did you and Quinn ever discuss how you both secretly liked me? Did you make an official pact to torment me, so no one would know?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, hobbit. I never liked you."
Rachel smiled. But it faded right away as the next round of thoughts flooded in.
"Santana, do you know who I do not love? Quinn," Rachel answered, before Santana had time to take a wild guess. "I need to tell her that. I think I should call her and tell her that, because the last she heard, it was the opposite of that."
Rachel withdrew her arms from around Santana and slid her phone out of her bra.
"Uh uh, not so fast," Santana said, taking the phone from her hand. "You know better than that, munchkin. No drunk dialing the ex-girlfriend."
"No, you're right," Rachel said, her eyes downcast. "That would be stupid." She held out her hand for Santana to place the phone back in her possession.
"I'm going to drunk TEXT." Before Santana could react, Rachel elbowed her out of the stall and locked the door behind her.
"Really?" Santana said, banging on the door with her palm. "This is the thanks I get for letting you get snot all over my shoulder?"
"This will only take a moment!" Rachel said. "And then I will become nice once more!"
Santana considered crawling under the door of the stall, but they were making enough of a spectacle as it was. She sighed, and leaned against the sink to wait. She took out her phone and sent Quinn one text message.
She's really drunk. I tried to stop her.
...
Eventually, her anger spent via text message, Rachel allowed herself to be herded back out to the booth where the rest of their group was waiting.
"Is she okay?" Sam asked, eyeing Rachel as she slumped against Santana's side.
"She's fine. We have a case of the drunk weepies going on, but we're fine, right Berry?"
Rachel nodded miserably.
"Can you guys watch her for a minute?" Santana asked the group at large. "I couldn't actually USE the restroom with her blubbering all over me."
"I got it, go ahead," Puck said, transferring Rachel to his side and sitting down with her in the booth.
You okay? he mouthed to Santana over the top of Rachel's head.
Santana shrugged, which was the most honest answer she could give him. She turned and headed for the bathroom.
More than anything, she felt exhausted. And that really sucked, because she knew the night wasn't nearly over. Washing her hands at the sink, a few shaky, silent sobs escaped her. For Rachel, for herself, for Brittany, even Quinn? She couldn't say.
She touched up her eye makeup before rejoining her friends.
"Warn us if you have to puke, you got that?" Santana urged as they loaded Rachel into the back of Blaine's car.
"I will," Rachel assured her.
"You and Brittany are so lucky," she sighed, slumping against Santana as Blaine pulled out of the club's parking lot. "You guys have to get married. Do you promise you'll get married?"
"I should probably ask Brittany first before I promise, don't you think?" Santana elbowed her gently.
"I guess that is fair," Rachel conceded. "When you get married, though, you have to let me plan your wedding. I'll plan everything for you, and you'll say you hate it, but secretly you'll like it, just like how you secretly liked me."
"Berry."
"What?"
"Did you just ask to be my maid of honor?"
"Nooo, I would never do that," Rachel said, drawing her knees up to her chest and leaning her head against Santana's shoulder with a smile. "We hate each other."
...
Brittany met them on the front porch of her house, and helped Santana get Rachel up the stairs. Together, they tucked her in for the night on what the members of the Pierce family had come to accept was "her" couch in the family room. They left her a glass of water, a couple of painkillers, and a wastebasket just in case, before tiptoeing up to Brittany's room.
It had been one of the longest car rides of Santana's life, this trip home from Toledo. She never considered for a moment not telling Brittany what had happened, though the thought of it had her heart pounding painfully in her chest. For one thing, half of the glee club had seen it happen. It wasn't like it could be kept from her anyway.
And the other, probably more important reason was, it had helped her come to few realizations.
Santana caught Brittany's hand as she was heading for the bathroom to brush her teeth.
"Wait, can I talk to you?" she asked in a small voice.
Brittany nodded, and Santana guided her to the bed where they sat facing each other, legs crossed in front of them.
Santana took Brittany's hands. "I have to tell you something that happened tonight."
"Okay," Brittany said.
"Rachel got really drunk."
"I know, Quinn told me."
"Quinn?"
"Yeah, I went to her house."
"Oh. Okay, well anyway Brittany, she. . . Rachel kissed me."
Santana held her breath. She thought she saw Brittany's shoulders stiffen, but her face was unreadable as she asked, simply, "What?"
"It happened while we were dancing," Santana explained, the tears beginning to burn the backs of her eyes and the top of her nose. "I was totally caught off guard."
Brittany's cheeks felt hot. For some reason she felt like she couldn't look at Santana's face, and the words she wanted to say got stuck in her throat.
"I'm so, so sorry, Brittany," Santana was saying. "And Rachel is, too. She feels terrible, and she's really worried that you're going to be mad at her."
"I'm not mad at her," Brittany said, because these words were easy to get right out. "She was sad and drunk."
But she still wasn't looking at Santana.
"And me?" Santana asked quietly.
"Did you kiss Rachel back?"
Santana squeezed her eyes shut and tears fell. "At first, yeah, I did," she said. "She surprised me, and it was familiar and everything. But, I stopped as soon as I realized what I was doing."
Brittany felt a little dizzy.
"I'm so, so sorry, Brittany," Santana said again. "But, listen, there are other things I wanted to tell you, too. While we were there, before anything bad happened, I met this group of guys. They were Kurt and Blaine's friends, and they go to Toledo, and they were super, super gay. Brittany, I decided I want to go there. With you. I'm not going to go to USC, I want to go with you."
"I accept your apology, Santana," Brittany said dully, finally looking Santana in the eye. "I feel upset in my stomach, but my brain believes you. You don't have to promise me you'll go to Toledo just to get me to forgive you."
"I'm not," Santana shook her head. "Because, Britt, I realized something tonight. I realized that like, there are other people in the world who maybe I could like. Or if things happened differently, ones I could even love. But I don't want to, Brittany. I don't, because I want to love you. I always have, and like - I picked you before I even knew it."
She paused, but Brittany said nothing.
"Are you hearing me, Britt?" she prompted softly.
"Are you just saying this stuff because you feel bad?"
"No. No, trust me, I feel fucking horrible, Brittany, but I feel really happy, too. I feel so grateful, you know? To have you. That's what. . . that's exactly what I'm trying to tell you."
Brittany gave Santana a begrudging smile. "Okay."
"So are we okay?"
"Yeah, Santana."
Santana returned Brittany's smile, the relief flooding her whole body, and leaned forward and hugged her.
"I'll never do anything like that again, okay? I promise."
"Yeah."
When they broke the hug, Brittany reached across to Santana's face and wiped the tears from her cheeks. She looked at Santana for a minute, thinking.
"Santana," she said. "I have to ask you for permission to get something. Quinn says it's called 'closure.'"
...
Saturday, July 30 / 1:12pm
"You seem better, Rachel," Brittany said, sipping her soda.
"Thank you, Brittany! I feel better," Rachel said, smiling cheerfully and dipping a French fry enthusiastically into a blob of ketchup.
"Well, I feel awful, if anyone cares," Santana volunteered. "I can't believe I agreed to eat at a Denny's."
"But, you ate your whole salad," Brittany pointed out.
"That doesn't mean I've retained my dignity."
Rachel continued, ignoring Santana.
"Having hit what can only be considered rock bottom the other night, I'm determined not to let this unfortunate situation with you-know-who ruin the rest of my summer. I still have my summer plans, not to mention my very first community theater role. I'm officially moving on."
Santana sighed. It was nice, for sure, to have Rachel off of the couch and out in the world, especially with no vodka involved. But this talk of moving on was depressing her. She scowled.
"Are you sure you don't want to try to bring Quinn to her senses first? Send her naked pictures or something? I mean, have you even tried that?"
"Santana," Rachel said, sitting up straight and leaning forward intently, "The definition of insanity is repeating the same thing and expecting different results. I've spent far too much of my young life pining over someone who has clearly moved on. I did that with Finn, and I refuse to repeat the mistakes of my past. No - Rachel Berry is going relationship-free. No more commitment, no more rebound sex. I'm going to try something new - I'm going to date. I'm going to date multiple people. I'm going to play the field, if you will."
Santana scowled harder.
"Are you going to date boys or girls?" Brittany asked.
"Excellent question, Brittany! And the answer is. . . I have no idea. I don't know. Maybe both. Whoever is attractive to me at the time. Maybe boys, because that's simpler. I don't know, we'll have to see. Anyway, onward ladies! I've scheduled us all an afternoon at the spa for mani-pedis. I want a refreshed look that says Rachel Berry is single and looking, but not for anything serious, because I'm just getting over a breakup that shattered my heart into a million pieces."
"She's really hyper," Brittany said to Santana as they climbed out of their booth.
"I'm going to punch Quinn in the throat," Santana replied.