Two Times Brittany Didn't Think, and One Time She Did (1/3): Penguins
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Brittany/Santana
Rating: R
Title: Two Times Brittany Didn't Think, and One Time She Did (1/3): Penguins
Summary: Three vignettes spanning the years of Brittany and Santana's relationship
Words: ~2000/~7000
Note: For Kera, who spawned this, then had to suffer through the abuse I handed her way when I was writing instead of doing my assignments. Sorry, dear :)
Brittany could on occasion behave in a way that could only be described as spectacularly moronic, and sometimes it pissed Santana off. Most of the time the only part that annoyed her was that she found it so fucking adorable, but sometimes it actually, hardcore, made her throw things around her room and scream until her throat burnt and her head throbbed. It was rare for her to say anything to Brittany's face, because Brittany cried when people were angry with her and damn it if that wasn’t the last thing on Santana’s to do list ever. Sometimes, though, Brittany would do something so completely thoughtless that even Santana didn't have the patience for her.
One of the first times she ever yelled at Brittany was after a hot summer of pool parties and alcohol, and a shared night that went beyond light kisses in sleeping bags. They'd been talking about what they wanted their first time to be like since they were eleven, so it had been fucking perfect. Santana had known to get vanilla scented candles but keep the lights on (because Brittany was still, a little bit, afraid of the dark), and Brittany had known to play instrumental jazz instead of something with lyrics because Santana was worried she’d get distracted and start singing along to the music. Brittany even knew about the deeper fear - the one where she was just awful at it, but she’d dispelled it with her first breathless murmur and her whisper afterwards that they should do it again sometime. When Santana kissed her and drew a spider's web across the plane of her back, she changed her mind and amended it to a sleepy ‘all the time.'
Santana had thought that it was all perfect, she’d thought that the fact that they’d kissed goodbye the same way they always did meant that things wouldn’t have to change all that much (except for maybe their friend-dates involving more sex, because really, that was just way too much fun not to do as often as possible). But when Santana called her the next morning, she got redirected to a recording of Brittany saying in her Professional Voice: 'This is Brittany's phone, but she's not here right now. Please leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. I mean, she will. I mean, she means. Whatever, call me back!'
She left a cautious message after the tone, asking if she was okay and waiting on the line for an answer that wasn't going to come. She called her again that night, and texted her with a solitary question mark when the phone rang out and went to voicemail again. They usually saw each other at least once a day in the holidays, so when a whole day had gone by without any contact from Brittany at all, Santana felt she was legitimately allowed to be freaking out and stalked her house. Brittany’s car wasn’t there, and nor was it there the next morning when she sort of accidentally drove down her street when she was on her way to buy vanilla essence. (They had none in the house and seriously, how were they supposed to make spontaneous drunk cake without vanilla essence?) Santana parked her car outside of Brittany's house and let the engine idle for a few moments, biting her lip in thought. She took a deep breath as she killed the engine, nodding decisively and marching up to the front door. A slight woman answered with a joyful exclamation of 'Santana!' and a warm hug. Brittany had convinced her - when she was a lot younger and more gullible, obviously - that her mom had elvish blood, but really, looking at her, it wasn't that hard to imagine. Her hair was loose and wavy, pulled back from her face by two small braids, and she was so tiny that Santana couldn't imagine her producing someone as...well, Brittany wasn't large, exactly, but you couldn't call her petite, either.
"Hi Cilla-Maria." Santana said, scuffing the sole of her shoe along the porch, a flush on her cheeks. It was hard to keep from thinking that she'd had her fingers inside this woman's daughter (and holy shit, Santana still couldn't quite believe that). "Uhm, is Britt here?"
Brittany's mom frowned, her face screwing up into a familiar blend of confusion and intrigue that Santana couldn't help but smile at. "I thought she was sleeping over at your house?"
Santana felt her heart drop to the floor beneath her feet, and she stayed perfectly still in case she inadvertently stood on it. "No, she left," Santana managed, darting a quick glance behind her as though she expected Brittany's car to have appeared since she last looked for it.
"Are you sure she isn't just hiding under your bed?" Brittany's mom asked, a pleasant curiosity in her voice.
Santana blinked at her, getting out a strangled, "I'll go home and check." She didn’t slam the front door in her face, but she pulled the car door closed so hard it rattled her seat. She kept trying, calling her daily and even (maybe) checking under her bed, just in case. On the third day she called Brittany’s mom again, who told her not to worry, she’d be fine, because her tarot cards told her that she was just taking a holiday.
Santana didn’t think it was endearing anymore. Sometimes Brittany and Brittany’s mom were both fucking moronic, so Santana threw a chair at her wall and cracked the paint. Her dad told her she’d have to repaint it, and Santana just muttered something that passed for agreement, closing the door and slipping into bed, pulling the covers up over her face and screaming into her pillow.
Brittany sent her a text the next morning, only asking if she was at her house.
Santana texted back, her fingers slipping on the keys so often that she had to rewrite every other word of her reply. Ten minutes later, she opened the door to an armful of blonde headed energy.
“Hey S! I missed you!”
“Okay,” Santana said, too dazed by her sudden solid presence to do more than hug her back reflexively.
“I got you a present!” Brittany said, babbling as she linked hands with her and led her insistently up the stairs to her bedroom. “I didn’t have any wrapping paper, so I tried to wrap it with hair ties, only I didn’t have enough, so then I went out and bought more but then it was difficult and it was taking too long and I really wanted to see you so I figured you wouldn’t mind?” She didn’t stop talking until they were both facing each other cross legged on Santana’s bed, when she took a hand from behind her back and displayed a stuffed penguin. There were a few hairties around its legs, and one forlorn one hanging from its beak. Santana just stared at it, and Brittany’s face fell. “You look mad. I’m sorry about the wrapping paper. I’ll buy some next time.”
“I’m not mad about the fucking wrapping paper, Brittany!” Brittany’s eyes widened, looking so hurt that Santana dropped the arms she’d flung up in the air and took the stuffed penguin from her. “Thank you for the present.” She looked down at the penguin, unwrapping the hairties from it and putting them down in a meticulous line on the pillow. She'd flipped her hair over to cover her eyes but Brittany reached a hand out to move it back behind her ear, brushing past the skin of her neck. “Where’ve you been?” Santana asked, her voice softening.
“I drove to New York.” Brittany’s hand moved to skim across her collarbone, and Santana's eyes closed, her breathing steadying.
“I called you.”
“I forgot my phone. I was excited.”
“Britt,” Santana sighed, clasping her hand. “You disappeared for like, three days. Your mom didn’t even know where you were. I was worried.”
“Oh,” Brittany frowned, a little crease of thought forming on the smooth skin of her forehead.
“What would you have felt like if I’d just gone away and you couldn’t ask me where I was?”
“Oh,” Brittany said again, her eyes blinking closed. “Oh, I didn’t even…I would’ve been freaking out. I’m so sorry, San. I don’t know how I didn’t think about that.”
“Yeah, I freaked out, B. At first I thought it might’ve been because of…after…and then I thought you might be hurt or something and that was worse.”
“San…” Brittany said, her whole hand pressing up against her sternum like she was trying to draw out the ache. Santana bit into her lip, and Brittany put both arms around her, drawing soothing circles on her back. She let her head drop into the crook of Brittany's neck; her skin was warm and she could feel every breath as though it was coming from inside her own chest. “I’m so sorry, S. I didn’t mean to make you worry. I thought you would know that that was like, the best night I’ve ever had. Including that time at Disney Land when I got to talk to Aladdin.”
Santana hated that she needed the confirmation, but she tightened her hold around Brittany’s shoulders and asked “Yeah?” in a small voice, muffled by the skin of Brittany’s neck.
“Of course it was, S, it was perfect. Didn’t I tell you that?”
“You did. You did.” Santana stayed still until she was sure she wasn’t going to do anything more embarrassing than she already had. When she pulled back Brittany’s smile was dim, so Santana kissed her gently, watching her brighten in automatic response. “So what’d you go to New York for, anyway?” Santana asked casually, flopping on her back on the bed. Brittany followed, pillowing her head on Santana’s stomach.
“Went to the zoo,” Brittany said. “It was super awesome.”
“Yeah?” Santana asked, only half interested in what she was saying, content to feel Brittany’s solid weight on her chest and stroke a soft hand through her hair.
“Uhuh. I went to see the penguins ‘cause I heard some of them were gay and I wanted to make sure they were happy.”
Santana’s entire body tensed, and Brittany sat up to find her wide-eyed and staring. “San?”
Santana took in a shaky breath. “Yeah, B.”
“Are you okay? You like, stopped breathing. It was freaky.”
Santana tugged her back down so they were nose to nose and kissed her, hard and full. “Tell you what, you promise not to disappear again, and I’ll promise to keep breathing.”
“Deal,” Brittany murmured against her lips, hooking a leg over her thighs. Santana sighed and thought, yeah, okay, so Brittany might be completely fucking insane sometimes, but damn it if she wasn’t her favourite person in the entire world.
Part Two
Pairing: Brittany/Santana
Rating: R
Title: Two Times Brittany Didn't Think, and One Time She Did (1/3): Penguins
Summary: Three vignettes spanning the years of Brittany and Santana's relationship
Words: ~2000/~7000
Note: For Kera, who spawned this, then had to suffer through the abuse I handed her way when I was writing instead of doing my assignments. Sorry, dear :)
Brittany could on occasion behave in a way that could only be described as spectacularly moronic, and sometimes it pissed Santana off. Most of the time the only part that annoyed her was that she found it so fucking adorable, but sometimes it actually, hardcore, made her throw things around her room and scream until her throat burnt and her head throbbed. It was rare for her to say anything to Brittany's face, because Brittany cried when people were angry with her and damn it if that wasn’t the last thing on Santana’s to do list ever. Sometimes, though, Brittany would do something so completely thoughtless that even Santana didn't have the patience for her.
One of the first times she ever yelled at Brittany was after a hot summer of pool parties and alcohol, and a shared night that went beyond light kisses in sleeping bags. They'd been talking about what they wanted their first time to be like since they were eleven, so it had been fucking perfect. Santana had known to get vanilla scented candles but keep the lights on (because Brittany was still, a little bit, afraid of the dark), and Brittany had known to play instrumental jazz instead of something with lyrics because Santana was worried she’d get distracted and start singing along to the music. Brittany even knew about the deeper fear - the one where she was just awful at it, but she’d dispelled it with her first breathless murmur and her whisper afterwards that they should do it again sometime. When Santana kissed her and drew a spider's web across the plane of her back, she changed her mind and amended it to a sleepy ‘all the time.'
Santana had thought that it was all perfect, she’d thought that the fact that they’d kissed goodbye the same way they always did meant that things wouldn’t have to change all that much (except for maybe their friend-dates involving more sex, because really, that was just way too much fun not to do as often as possible). But when Santana called her the next morning, she got redirected to a recording of Brittany saying in her Professional Voice: 'This is Brittany's phone, but she's not here right now. Please leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. I mean, she will. I mean, she means. Whatever, call me back!'
She left a cautious message after the tone, asking if she was okay and waiting on the line for an answer that wasn't going to come. She called her again that night, and texted her with a solitary question mark when the phone rang out and went to voicemail again. They usually saw each other at least once a day in the holidays, so when a whole day had gone by without any contact from Brittany at all, Santana felt she was legitimately allowed to be freaking out and stalked her house. Brittany’s car wasn’t there, and nor was it there the next morning when she sort of accidentally drove down her street when she was on her way to buy vanilla essence. (They had none in the house and seriously, how were they supposed to make spontaneous drunk cake without vanilla essence?) Santana parked her car outside of Brittany's house and let the engine idle for a few moments, biting her lip in thought. She took a deep breath as she killed the engine, nodding decisively and marching up to the front door. A slight woman answered with a joyful exclamation of 'Santana!' and a warm hug. Brittany had convinced her - when she was a lot younger and more gullible, obviously - that her mom had elvish blood, but really, looking at her, it wasn't that hard to imagine. Her hair was loose and wavy, pulled back from her face by two small braids, and she was so tiny that Santana couldn't imagine her producing someone as...well, Brittany wasn't large, exactly, but you couldn't call her petite, either.
"Hi Cilla-Maria." Santana said, scuffing the sole of her shoe along the porch, a flush on her cheeks. It was hard to keep from thinking that she'd had her fingers inside this woman's daughter (and holy shit, Santana still couldn't quite believe that). "Uhm, is Britt here?"
Brittany's mom frowned, her face screwing up into a familiar blend of confusion and intrigue that Santana couldn't help but smile at. "I thought she was sleeping over at your house?"
Santana felt her heart drop to the floor beneath her feet, and she stayed perfectly still in case she inadvertently stood on it. "No, she left," Santana managed, darting a quick glance behind her as though she expected Brittany's car to have appeared since she last looked for it.
"Are you sure she isn't just hiding under your bed?" Brittany's mom asked, a pleasant curiosity in her voice.
Santana blinked at her, getting out a strangled, "I'll go home and check." She didn’t slam the front door in her face, but she pulled the car door closed so hard it rattled her seat. She kept trying, calling her daily and even (maybe) checking under her bed, just in case. On the third day she called Brittany’s mom again, who told her not to worry, she’d be fine, because her tarot cards told her that she was just taking a holiday.
Santana didn’t think it was endearing anymore. Sometimes Brittany and Brittany’s mom were both fucking moronic, so Santana threw a chair at her wall and cracked the paint. Her dad told her she’d have to repaint it, and Santana just muttered something that passed for agreement, closing the door and slipping into bed, pulling the covers up over her face and screaming into her pillow.
Brittany sent her a text the next morning, only asking if she was at her house.
Santana texted back, her fingers slipping on the keys so often that she had to rewrite every other word of her reply. Ten minutes later, she opened the door to an armful of blonde headed energy.
“Hey S! I missed you!”
“Okay,” Santana said, too dazed by her sudden solid presence to do more than hug her back reflexively.
“I got you a present!” Brittany said, babbling as she linked hands with her and led her insistently up the stairs to her bedroom. “I didn’t have any wrapping paper, so I tried to wrap it with hair ties, only I didn’t have enough, so then I went out and bought more but then it was difficult and it was taking too long and I really wanted to see you so I figured you wouldn’t mind?” She didn’t stop talking until they were both facing each other cross legged on Santana’s bed, when she took a hand from behind her back and displayed a stuffed penguin. There were a few hairties around its legs, and one forlorn one hanging from its beak. Santana just stared at it, and Brittany’s face fell. “You look mad. I’m sorry about the wrapping paper. I’ll buy some next time.”
“I’m not mad about the fucking wrapping paper, Brittany!” Brittany’s eyes widened, looking so hurt that Santana dropped the arms she’d flung up in the air and took the stuffed penguin from her. “Thank you for the present.” She looked down at the penguin, unwrapping the hairties from it and putting them down in a meticulous line on the pillow. She'd flipped her hair over to cover her eyes but Brittany reached a hand out to move it back behind her ear, brushing past the skin of her neck. “Where’ve you been?” Santana asked, her voice softening.
“I drove to New York.” Brittany’s hand moved to skim across her collarbone, and Santana's eyes closed, her breathing steadying.
“I called you.”
“I forgot my phone. I was excited.”
“Britt,” Santana sighed, clasping her hand. “You disappeared for like, three days. Your mom didn’t even know where you were. I was worried.”
“Oh,” Brittany frowned, a little crease of thought forming on the smooth skin of her forehead.
“What would you have felt like if I’d just gone away and you couldn’t ask me where I was?”
“Oh,” Brittany said again, her eyes blinking closed. “Oh, I didn’t even…I would’ve been freaking out. I’m so sorry, San. I don’t know how I didn’t think about that.”
“Yeah, I freaked out, B. At first I thought it might’ve been because of…after…and then I thought you might be hurt or something and that was worse.”
“San…” Brittany said, her whole hand pressing up against her sternum like she was trying to draw out the ache. Santana bit into her lip, and Brittany put both arms around her, drawing soothing circles on her back. She let her head drop into the crook of Brittany's neck; her skin was warm and she could feel every breath as though it was coming from inside her own chest. “I’m so sorry, S. I didn’t mean to make you worry. I thought you would know that that was like, the best night I’ve ever had. Including that time at Disney Land when I got to talk to Aladdin.”
Santana hated that she needed the confirmation, but she tightened her hold around Brittany’s shoulders and asked “Yeah?” in a small voice, muffled by the skin of Brittany’s neck.
“Of course it was, S, it was perfect. Didn’t I tell you that?”
“You did. You did.” Santana stayed still until she was sure she wasn’t going to do anything more embarrassing than she already had. When she pulled back Brittany’s smile was dim, so Santana kissed her gently, watching her brighten in automatic response. “So what’d you go to New York for, anyway?” Santana asked casually, flopping on her back on the bed. Brittany followed, pillowing her head on Santana’s stomach.
“Went to the zoo,” Brittany said. “It was super awesome.”
“Yeah?” Santana asked, only half interested in what she was saying, content to feel Brittany’s solid weight on her chest and stroke a soft hand through her hair.
“Uhuh. I went to see the penguins ‘cause I heard some of them were gay and I wanted to make sure they were happy.”
Santana’s entire body tensed, and Brittany sat up to find her wide-eyed and staring. “San?”
Santana took in a shaky breath. “Yeah, B.”
“Are you okay? You like, stopped breathing. It was freaky.”
Santana tugged her back down so they were nose to nose and kissed her, hard and full. “Tell you what, you promise not to disappear again, and I’ll promise to keep breathing.”
“Deal,” Brittany murmured against her lips, hooking a leg over her thighs. Santana sighed and thought, yeah, okay, so Brittany might be completely fucking insane sometimes, but damn it if she wasn’t her favourite person in the entire world.
Part Two