Reign of the Tranny Queen
Word Count: 1081
Rating: T
Spoilers: Till the end of season 1
A/N: An alternate ending to season 1.
"Ah come on!" Leonard demands. "Who are you choosing?"
And all of a sudden, Britta doesn't care anymore. She doesn't care about Slater and how much of a turd she is. She doesn't care about Jeff and his stupid hot body or about that weird little wavering connection between them that's somehow managed to survive a year full of insults, hurt feelings, and emotional barriers. She just wants to get out of that cafeteria, away from the both of them, away from all the eyes she can feel boring into her.
The crowd seems to have shifted, too. They start booing, fed up with Jeff's indecisiveness, which Britta bitterly thinks makes them a whole hell of a lot smarter than her. When Professor Duncan takes the stage, Britta takes that as her cue to exit. This was all his fucking fault in the first place. So she retreats, heading out into the cool summer night.
She needs a cigarette. But she stopped smoking. Stopped. And she's not going to start again because of Winger, that's just not acceptable. Christ. She'd just made a fool of herself in front of the entire school. How was she supposed to come back next year, and deal with that? With all the gossip and the laughter and the pity that would inevitably spring up out of this mess like fungus does out of an old dying log.
She's snapped out of her thoughts by the sight of Annie making her way over towards her, luggage in tow. Britta frowns, confused, even though the sight of the younger woman is a welcome relief.
"I thought you left?" Britta asks as Annie hoists her pink duffel bag off her shoulder.
"I decided I didn't want to," she answers. "I was- it wasn't just going to be for the summer. Vaughn wanted me to transfer with him."
"Annie…" Britta says, shocked. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"I didn't want you to try and talk me out of it. Sorry. I think maybe that's why I decided not to go, in the end. I just thought about it, the group finding out I wasn't coming back. How sad they'd be." Annie looks away. "And I didn't want to do that to you guys. To you."
Britta reaches out, rubbing her upper arm in a way she intends to be comforting. She's not just doing it because she wants to touch her, to feel her skin. That would be wrong. "Well I'm glad you changed your mind."
Annie looks back up at her, then, at her touch. For a brief moment, there's an element to her expression that sets of warning bells in Britta's head, but it's gone so fast she can't decide if it was ever really there or just a projection of her fucked up subconscious. "Me too. I figured it out, as the bus was pulling away. Greendale is where I belong."
There's stability there, in that idea, and it makes Britta want to latch onto it, to squeeze it to her breast as hard as she can. She must have been staring too long, because Annie frowns briefly.
"What are you doing out here?" She looks sympathetic. "Did you not get crowned transfer queen? I didn't think you'd let something like that get to you."
Britta grimaces. "God. I don't even know. I uh-" The truth is too embarrassing for her to even admit to herself, let alone say it aloud.
"What? What's wrong Britta? You seem really upset."
"I told Jeff I loved him," she says, trying to ignore the pained look that flashes across Annie's face, "and so did Slater. And he couldn't choose." She feels a tear run down her cheek. "I'm such a fucking idiot."
"Britta!" Annie's arms are around her, pulling her into an embrace. "I'm so sorry." Britta sniffs, and Annie pats her gently on the back. "Jeff's the idiot, not you. Being honest about what you feel is really, really brave."
Britta snorts. "Honest? The only reason I did it is because I didn't want to see him with her. And I don't even have any reason to hate Slater!" She closes her eyes, leaning a little bit more into Annie. It feels good, opening up like this. She feels safer here, five minutes alone with Annie, and then she ever did over a year of therapy with Duncan. "I just know she's everything I pretend to be: smart, self-confident, independent. She doesn't need to pretend to be jaded, or go around wearing leather jackets and stripper boots to prove how tough she is. And I hate her for it. I'm the worst!"
"No you aren't!" Annie objects. She pulls away from their hug, holding Britta at arm's length and giving her an incredulous look. "You're the coolest girl I know, Britta!
"It's all an act, Annie! Everything about me is! The anarchism, the feminism, the whole riot girl shtick. I did it so I wouldn't have to actually think about who or what I really am. I feel like I'm just like a… an empty void. And I'm sucking up everything around me, destroying everything I touch, but none of it ever fills me. And I just go on, forever, making everyone and everything around me miserable."
Annie's eyes flick to her lips, and she starts to lean in. The alarm bells start ringing again.
"Annie, what are you-" Annie's mouth is on hers before she can finish the question. She's gotten pretty good at kissing. Britta doesn't know how. She definitely hasn't been watching them on the quad over the past few months, imagining it's her in Annie's place (and DEFINITLEY not in Vaughn's).
She feels Annie pull away, and Britta opens her eyes again. She's going to tell Annie that she's flattered, but that she's a decade older than her and she's not sure whether she's gay and didn't she only just break up with Vaughn, like, minutes ago and that Annie doesn't understand what a giant, sucking wound she really is and-
But then she sees the way Annie's looking at her. That her lip is quivering slightly. The way her eyebrows have shot up, like she's just asked her a question she needs to know the answer to. And most of all she can see the pleading in her eyes, the quiet desperation that echoes with something deep inside herself.
"Fuck it," Britta says, stepping forward and pulling Annie's lips back to her own.