Stronger Than This (9/11) Brittany: Prom (Part 1)
Title: Stronger than This. (9/?) Brittany: Prom (Part 1)
Pairing: Santana/Brittany; Santana/Puck bromance
Rating: R (For Language)
Summary: Brittany’s POV a month after “Sexy”. This fic starts with some pent up Santana angst and builds to battle royal at prom. This chapter is awesome, if I do say so myself. J
Spoilers: Season 2: Sexy
Chapt 1: Santana - Chapt 2: Artie - Chapt 3:Puck - Chapt 4: Rachel -
Chapt 5:Finn - Chapt 6: Santana - Chapt 7: Kurt - Chapt 8: Quinn
Chapt 9: Brittany (Part 1) - (Part 2) -
Chapter 9
Brittany: Prom (Part 1)
“You look beautiful.”
I smile. I feel beautiful. “Watch this!” I say twirling around in small circles. My shimmery blue dress flutters out like a spinning tulip dipped in clouds.
The waiter watches us from the doorway.
“Very nice.” Artie says already sitting at the restaurant table. White linen dresses the small table, shiny silver cutlery frames each china plate, and crystal goblets turn the small venue into a palace. A single candle centered on the table brightens the low lit private dining room. Artie smiles up at me. “The dress matches your eyes.”
“Does it really?” I bend down to the wide shiny spoon on the table, doing my best to get a good look at my eye color. He laughs, but sometimes my eyes looked deep blue and other times they were as pale as my dress. From the reflection, I could see the pale tint and smiled. I hadn’t even planned it.
“Ready to eat?” Artie asks as I take my seat. I nod and he lifts his gloved hand to call over the waiter. Artie looks handsome in his suit. His hair is gelled nicely and tucked behind his ears. He smiles at me as the waiter approaches and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so handsome.
I love Chicken Parmesan!” I announce as the plates of warm food are brought under our noses. “You know, they only make chicken parmesan with Italian chickens.”
Artie laughs. “You teach me new things every day.”
We eat in silence. Me, slurping up each individual noodle, one-by-scrumptious one, while Artie, cuts them into small lumps and lifts them into his mouth in proper bite sizes. I take a sip of water… so does Artie. I smile… so does Artie.
There used to be so much to say.
Lifting his hand to his nose, Artie straightens his glasses. I know I need to tell him. He takes another bite of the cuisine. I look around the room. It really was a beautiful set up. The day was fading to night. Outside the window, pink hues shot like cannons across the sky. I had to tell him.
I twirl the spaghetti in my fork. “Artie?” I say quietly, so quiet that I hope he can’t hear. But he looks up anyway and gives me his full attention, like a super spy with x-ray hearing. Crap!
His expression seems somewhat relieved, like breaking ice to let it finally melt and tear up. There is something he’s expecting from me. Something I’m too afraid to give. I hesitate.
Reaching across the table, Artie pats my hand, “You can tell me anything, Brittany.” His tone is sweet and sincere, but I know it isn’t true.
But I do have to give him something… “Tonight at Prom,” I start. The room, the candle light, the thick air all beacon me. “I’m singing my song for Santana.” His lips frown slightly. I knew I couldn’t tell him everything, even this was an obvious blow, so I do my best to justify. “It isn’t a normal love song, or anything… not like something for you…” I tilt my head searching for an explanation, “It’s just… She’s going through some stuff right now. And the song is about not being afraid of who you are.” I explain. He frowns again. “It’s a love song because it’s about loving herself.”
I shrug and repeat myself. “I want Santana to know she’s worth loving herself.”
He nods semi-sadly and reaches for my hand. “Is there anything else?”
I shake my head in a fierce no. “No, no… “ I insist, “Just that.” It was enough.
He nods, smiling gently. “Well,” he says, “My song is for you.” The sincerity in his broken eyes warms my heart. He cares so much for me. It’s in his every gesture and glance. I could never leave Artie, could I?
“Thank you.” It’s all I can think to say.
We eat through the rest of the meal in continued silence, and I can’t help, but feel sad. Sad for him and for me… was this everything there would be? Bite after bite, I’m certain the food is delicious, but I can’t taste anything. My stomach is full of butterflies. Who knew how they got in there…? We continue to eat until the limo driver comes.
Sadly, he comes before we have time for desert. Artie graciously pays and tips the waitress with actual money. …Weird.
The limo is black and long. I do my best to peek through the dark tinted windows, but it’s impossible to see anything through the glass. I pull a face and fake pick my nose in the reflection and hear Lauren laugh inside. Ha ha! Success!
Artie and I are the last couple in our group onto the limo, which made sense. Getting Artie’s chair on is no small task, but we manage with Finn and Puck’s help. Quinn had planned the evening well.
Sliding into my seat, I can’t help but gawk at everyone inside. Quinn immediately stood out in a deep emerald green gown. Her earrings and neck were strung with sparkling diamonds. She had a regal kind grace all her own. When she smiled the limo lit up. Tonight was her night. Beside her, Finn looked surprisingly fit and promising in his dark suit. A matching emerald tie held to his collar. Beside him, Lauren sat in a bold hot pink dress. If she was going for dramatic, she had easily won. The dress held her boobs up to her chin. It was hard to look at anything else. I never wanted to touch anything so badly before. Puck eyed me suspiciously next to her. His dark tux held a hint of blue in the low limo lights. Surprisingly, Kurt and Blaine sat together beside him.
“Kurt!” I called excitedly taking a seat beside him. “I didn’t know you’d be with us.
Kurt smiled, he looked fantastic in his tailored suit and bow tie. He held Blaine’s hand beside him. “We switched seats with Tina and Mike,” He said, “There was no way I could ride with Karofsky and Santana in the other limo.” Hearing her name, the butterflies shift in my stomach again.
Somehow sensing this, Kurt takes my hand in his and squeezes, easing the tight pull in my chest. “Darling,” he whispers, “you look amazing.” I blush. Kurt watches me fondly for a long moment. In a soft hush, he whispers, “You’re going to take her breath away.”
Again butterflies dance.
Everyone looked so great. On the way to the dance, I can’t help but notice how Puck glances at me in between sessions of getting his face chewed off by Lauren. The red lipstick smeared around his mouth makes him look like a creepy zombie and I do my best to not look in his direction, but every time I accidentally do, he again stares deviously at me.
Pulling up to the school, I can see the other limo isn’t here yet, somehow it’s a relief.
“Everyone ready?” Quinn asks, her voice sweet and timbre. The whole moment felt magical. We each step from the limo gracefully like a line of Cinderellas and handsome princes. We stand together eagerly in front of the auditorium doors filled with a united enthusiasm for the night.
As soon as we enter the dance, Quinn’s decorations take my breath away. I squeeze Artie’s hand beside me.
Across the room small white lights dangle twinkling above our heads. Silver and white balloons arch over entryways and twine together like ivory pillars around the dance floor. Small tables draped in ribbon cluster together around the sides of the room in groups of three with delicate folding chairs circled around. Benches are places strategically beside lit park lights and cobble road pathways toward the dance floor. It was mesmerizing.
Immediately, Quinn sets her sights for the voting booth for prom Queen and King, dragging Finn along. With her doe eyes and pretty smile she begins greeting and smiling at everyone in line to vote. I didn’t mind Quinn winning the crown, she was going to be a beautiful representative for our school. And with all the work she had done, she deserves it.
The band was already playing a slow song, but only a few couples were out on the dance floor this early in the night. Kurt steps beside me, watching the slow moving couples, each girl wearing pink. He turns to me. “They laugh because I’m different,” he says taking Blaine’s hand in his, “I laugh because they’re all the same.” With that, they bravely walk to the dance floor heads held high. Kurt’s head rests on Blaine’s shoulder as they sway together to the music. I am proud to know him.
According to Quinn’s set list, I only had a little time before we would be performing her number first, but it was time enough for at least one dance. I take Artie’s hand. “Would the gentleman care to dance?”
He smiles and rolls out to the dance floor. Sitting on his lap, I hug him tightly as he spins the wheel chair in slow circles. The music is soft and gentile. I squeeze him tight.
“Artie,” I say… my voice heavy, “I hope we will always be this close.”
He kisses my cheek. “Always.”
I close my eyes and listen to the band play, feeling each string and bow. I wish I could dance. With my heart heavy and longing, I want nothing more than to stretch and break to this music.
When my eyes open, I gasp; I see her.
Santana walks into the room.
Beside her, comes Karofsky and the trail of my friends, but all I see is her. Her dress is plum, a deep, sexy purple, that hugs her thin waist and hips before draping down to the floor. Her dark hair hangs lightly curled around the right side of her face and tied up on the other side. A deep purple lilac nestles there pinned above her ear.
She scans the room with her fierce eyes, searching, I know, for me.