fic: good enough; glee; brittany/santana; pg-13
Title: good enough
Author: yesssirrr
Characters/Pairings: Brittany/Santana; Brittany/OC
Rating: pg-13
Length: 4,078
Spoilers: None; it's a future!fic
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine. I'm just making stuff up about them. Don't sue me because I have an imagination.
Summary: Santana has a routine down, but Brittany's not part of it.
Author's Note: I wrote a sequel to you're a lot to lose because I didn't know how to just leave it alone. So I didn't and then this story just grew.
Author's Note II: I like this, but it's not settling as well as I hoped it would. But if I don't let it go now, I won't ever let it go. Unbeta-ed, so sorry for the mistakes. Enjoy!
;;
Santana is 23. She has a routine down.
It’s the only way she works. She does what she knows and she sticks to what she knows. It keeps her in control and she wouldn’t be Santana Lopez without control.
She’s already up when it’s still dark outside. She goes to shower for less than fifteen minutes, always, before she opens the door to cool off the steam from the bathroom. She wipes the fog off the mirror and smirks at herself, never smiles, and tells herself she looks good.
She’s out the door within the hour after she blow dries her hair and puts it up in a tight bun. It’s the professional step up from high school because everything is still like high school, but not quite.
She’s one of those people that get to work early, starting their day before the majority of the rest of the world even get their hands on their first cup of coffee. She works extremely hard and she knows whose asses to kiss and whose dreams to dash to get where she needs to be.
It’s comforting because life is just like high school, just with different names. Unlike some people she knew, she liked high school. She was good at it.
For all her ‘work hard’ attitude, she breaks ground as one of the youngest business closer in her firm. She’s only 23 but she knows she earned her internship way before she even graduated from college. Her employers think so, too.
By noon time, Santana’s already gone through three meetings and two conference calls to Japan. Barking orders at people and intimidating those around her is what she’s good at. That’s what makes her so good at her job - she gets it done.
But not today.
Today, Santana takes the rest of the day off when her secretary hands her a stack of mail. One of them is a postcard of two kittens with a giant ring in front of the two of them. It’s only confusing until she turns the card around and sees undeniably familiar handwriting.
It’s unsettling that this postcard would even reach her office, but it sets in relatively quickly that they’ve lost touch with each other.
She narrows her eyes and reads the words engaged.
It feels like the biggest punch in the gut. Not even losing one of the business deals with some prominent European business company a couple months ago can compare to this.
Santana doesn’t quite know how to react. There’s something in her chest akin to disappointment that she gets a postcard for this kind of news instead of a phone call. She focuses on that instead of the part where it’s a name that isn’t hers. Besides, this was their tradition. It only seemed fitting.
She and Brittany exchanged postcards all through college but it came few and far between by the time graduation rolled around. Their promises to write and draw to each other were kept intact, or as intact as two busy college students living two busy lives could. But their last exchange to each other was graduation.
She convinced herself that it was time to let go, to move on. She insisted Brittany do the same. Looking back, she thought bitterly how stupid of an idea that was.
They settled on postcards when one day, Santana saw one with a duck in a hat. She couldn’t believe it. She laughed at the bookstore then and there and knew she had to send it. It became their thing because she was never the conversationalist and there were pictures already. But she always drew two simple curves to signify a bird beside her name.
It was a silly thing back in high school after they watched The Notebook and that scene with if I’m a bird, you’re a bird came on. But it made Brittany happy back then, so she played along.
Santana goes home with the postcard stuck in the bottom of her briefcase. She controls her breathing while she tightly grips her steering wheel. When she opens the door to her apartment, it feels really empty. Her heart sinks a little and hopes that this only happens today.
She breaks her routine and settles into more comfortable clothes before she takes the postcard out of her briefcase. She gazes at it for a long time, thinking that the two kittens didn’t look good together. She scowls and tells herself to grow up. This isn’t high school anymore.
All her thoughts lead her to a good enough solution. So she makes it a point to visit Brittany in the west coast. She gives it the rest of the work week to mull things over and work up the courage to give Brittany a call. But it never happens; she never even picked up the phone. Just stared at it.
She sends a postcard of congratulations instead. It upsets her more than she’s willing to admit that she can’t draw that little bird beside her name anymore.
So Santana settles for making up for all of these distractions by finally bringing some loose woman who’s been going after her for a while back to her apartment. The woman’s a blonde and really, that’s good enough for her.
--
A year passes by. She’s 24. She has the same routine down.
Except she adds sleeping around and drinking a lot to her schedule.
It isn’t ideal, but it satisfied her. She worked hard and played hard and decided resolutely that settling down will not be in her immediate or distant future.
Then she gets another postcard. It’s a wedding invitation.
She spends an entire day staring at it after she throws it on her coffee table. She knows what she wants to do, but she doesn’t do it. She’s not good enough of a person not to resist ruining what’s meant to be the happiest day of Brittany’s life.
So she declines and sends a postcard that says congratulations with a half hearted apology that she’s missing out. It sounds like a good enough response, but she just knows that Brittany will see through it all.
She signs it with her name and a simple drawing of a bird. It’s like her silent fight against it all, but she’s too much of a coward to actually fight for anything. By the time she realizes that was the dumbest thing she had done in a long time (not even that time she had drunkenly fucked around with one of her female bosses that past Christmas party), she gets a postcard back from Brittany.
Brittany accepts the apology and draws a bird beside her name. Santana has no idea what to think of that.
She stuffs the postcard into a box she hides in her closet because it’s one of those skeletons now.
--
It’s another year. She’s 25. She has a solid routine down.
This time, it’s without the sleeping around and the alcohol.
The change comes from a summer trip she took to Colombia to visit her grandparents. They humbled her down when they told her how proud they were, to have someone succeed in America, of all places. To be a strong, independent woman, no less.
One afternoon her grandfather pulled her aside and placed a strong arm around her shoulders. Called her mi hija and kissed her on the forehead, pride apparent in his eyes. It reminded her of her own father doing the exact same thing all those years ago. Her thoughts didn’t drift too far to remember what else happened back then. It made her tear up right there beside him.
She decides she doesn’t want to disappoint them when she goes back home because she doesn’t think she deserves words that are too kind and too generous when she’s really just too scared and too weak.
Santana thinks about sending Brittany a postcard. She doesn’t think it’s a good idea, but she stamps that thought down quickly and relents, writing the most she’s ever written on the back of a postcard of a Colombian farm, similar to the one her grandparents live in.
She’s never been more thankful that there’s no room for her to draw anything else except for her initial.
She at least wants to think that they’re still friends, even after all this time.
Brittany sends a postcard a couple of weeks later, telling her that she’s excited for Santana to have something like that to experience. Then, she invites her to visit. Santana finally accepts because she’s not petty anymore. She’s grown.
They plan her trip and it’s the first time she’s been this excited to go anywhere. She can tell that Brittany’s excited too. It makes her feel like she’s in high school again, the butterflies and the giddiness. It’s not what she wanted because she’s older now, more mature. But some things are just hard to change.
She sees Brittany first. She looks more beautiful than Santana ever remembers. She schools her breathing down to keep calm even though her heart is thumpthump thumpthump thumpthumping in her chest. She gives herself a few more moments to just absorb the sight of Brittany before reminding herself that Brittany’s married.
One last exhale and she walks up to them.
Santana makes her appearance known and is greeted with a hug that she knows can only come from Brittany. They break apart and Brittany pulls away, walking over to a blonde woman standing somewhere to the side.
She meets Brittany’s wife, Kate. She’s everything Santana isn’t and a part of her thinks that doesn’t add up. But they look happy, especially standing in front of her in a crowded airport, so it must be some weird math equation she’s not a part of.
Maybe that’s what’s not making sense.
The drive to Brittany’s house is not at all awkward, like she imagined it to be. She forgot just how easy it is to fall back into how they were, back in high school. This is a good enough alternative, so she commits it to memory, tries to remember Brittany’s laughter as she conveniently tries to ignore Kate’s hand in Brittany’s.
They’re in Brittany and Kate’s backyard somewhere in suburban California. When Brittany leaves to get them more refreshments, Kate speaks up first before she can even open her mouth.
“So you’re her?” is a question that comes so out of the blue that she almost chokes on her drink.
“Excuse me?” she says, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, putting her drink down.
“The girl - the one who let her go in high school.”
She tries really hard not to scowl because she’s better than that, but she doesn’t see how this woman in front of her has the right or the gall to judge her for that. They were just kids.
“Uh, yeah.”
She doesn’t like the feeling of helplessness, so it upsets her that this woman blind sides her like this. No formalities or niceties at all - just straight to the point. In any other circumstances, she would even admire this kind of forwardness, but being under scrutiny of your ex-girlfriend’s wife is a very different circumstance.
“A lot to live up to.” Santana doesn’t know what’s going on and she really doesn’t like it, this lack of control.
“What?”
“You’re a lot to live up to.”
They’re silent. She doesn’t know where this woman is getting at, if she’s having a go at her.
“But you’re the one she’s married to.” She hates how it sounds like a defeat.
“Now I have her.”
“Yeah, now you have her.” She doesn’t think the bitterness in her voice is apparent, but she can’t be too sure. She’s been guarding so many things in her life, she doesn’t know how well she’s protecting herself these days.
When Brittany comes back from the kitchen, she asks what they talked about while they were gone, a smile on her face before she sits beside her wife. Kate pretends like they were talking about the weather. Brittany looks at her and she blinks before confirming Kate’s words. Brittany drops it but Santana doesn’t look at her in the eye for the rest of the day.
Santana leaves a couple of days later. She can see how happy Brittany is with this life and it’s exactly what she wished for her to have, from the very beginning. She comforts herself with this fact even though it’s a life without her.
She ignores that part when they drive to the airport by themselves. It surprises her a little, but Kate reasons that she has things to get done at work.
Santana has the good graces to shake the other woman’s hand before she leaves because Kate’s giving her something she would never ask for.
When they call for her flight, the two of them look up. It brings her back to a time when they were just teenagers. It’s like repeating the mistake all over again.
“I’m really glad you could finally come.” Santana nods. Brittany hugs her far longer than she thinks she should. She doesn’t complain though, just holds on tighter. She’s memorizing this. She knows that this might be the last time she has the energy to be near Brittany again, so she’ll just try and remember her, even if this is the only way.
“Write me,” Brittany says with an easy smile as Santana pulls the strap over her shoulder.
“Nobody writes anymore” is out of her mouth before this déjà vu registers in her head. Brittany just smiles wider.
“Then let’s be nobody.” Santana laughs a little and nods. She takes one last look at her before walking away.
She hears Draw pictures, too! yelled across the airport and she turns around with a small wave.
Santana only starts letting herself think about everything when she’s already thousands of miles up in the air, where no one can touch her or bother her.
Where thinking about going back to a life where she leaves Brittany again is even remotely possible.
--
It’s another year. She’s 26. She has a routine down.
She adds ‘writing to Brittany’ as one of them. Still postcards though because anything else is false hope.
One day, Brittany calls. She shifts uncomfortably because it’s that loss of control again.
Brittany calls her in tears one day and tells her how Kate cheated on her with some floozy ex-girlfriend. She doesn’t know what to do. She’s never been good at consoling Brittany without physical contact. She never had the right words and even if she did, she doesn’t know how to throw it out there to make anyone feel better. That was always Brittany’s strength. So it breaks her heart when she’s on the other side of the country not knowing how to get rid of Brittany’s pain.
She knows she’s said the wrong thing when silence falls on them.
“What? No, San. This is my marriage. This is for better or worse. This is the ‘for worse’.”
She feels like a giant asshole. So she pretends to understand where Brittany’s coming from. She knows that if she ever made the same mistake, she’d want for Brittany to forgive her, too. But she doesn’t think Kate deserves the chance. It’s childish, but she’s come to learn that she hasn’t grown up much at all when it comes to Brittany.
She pushes down the idea that she and Kate could be very similar to each other after all.
She does her best to do what she can for Brittany, but she knows it’s not much help. Slowly, the routine she has with her changes and they’re drifting again - Brittany trying to fix her marriage and Santana throwing herself at her work. It’s the only thing she’s ever committed to anymore.
Six months later, she gets a postcard. All it says is I couldn’t trust her anymore.
Santana drops her work and visits Brittany. She keeps a considerable amount of distance.
“I always wondered if she was cheating again, if she was thinking of someone else. I wanted to trust her. But I couldn’t anymore.”
Santana holds her until Brittany falls asleep in her arms, her face buried in blonde hair. She pretends it’s a different life from years ago, that she’s allowed to do this. It’s the only way she knows how to console Brittany. She doesn’t say anything. She stays the night on Brittany’s couch after she carries the blonde into the bedroom.
She does sneak a kiss to Brittany’s forehead because old habits die hard.
They don’t do anything because Santana’s not a rebound and Brittany knows never to treat her like that. She knows no good can come out of it and she holds herself back, goes to the airport by herself, writing on a postcard a goodbye and a promise to stay in contact.
They stay in touch and they write their postcards, back and forth. It’s their tradition.
--
Santana is 27 when she runs into Brittany’s ex-wife at a business conference in Michigan. It takes all of her resolve not to slap the other woman. When she instinctively balls her fists up, Kate throws her hands up in surrender.
All she hears is let me explain.
“Why did you do it?” is out of her mouth before she even sits down across from the other woman. She’s glad she picked a public place because anywhere else would have been fair game for anything.
“Why did you?”
“Excuse me? I’m not the one who cheated!” Bits and pieces of the old Santana was coming back, the one that was always up for a good fight. She won’t admit it, but she likes how it still fits her, like an old jacket she’s long ago retired.
“Neither of us are blameless here, okay? You are the one that let her go. I saw how you looked at her and I saw how she looked at you. We didn’t look at each other like that. And those damn postcards always made her happier than anything I could’ve given her.”
She’s confused now and the scowl on her face is deep. She doesn’t appreciate the accusation even though she knows it’s more than true.
“So why did you marry her?”
“Why do people marry each other these days? Our love was good enough. Our lives were good enough. We were just good enough for each other so we settled. But I wanted to let her go because I didn’t want to tie her down anymore, not when you’re around. So I gave her a way out and I cheated. But she’s been so fearful of always failing that she wanted to make our marriage work because she didn’t want to list it as another failure in her life. She eventually left and I know she’s happier now.”
“Why didn’t you just tell her?”
Kate leans forward and looks at her seriously. “Would you have? If you were me?”
“Yes!” she says all too quickly.
“You tell yourself that.” She doesn’t believe herself either. “I know what I did was wrong, but she would never have been as happy with me when you’re somewhere out there in the world, loving her back.”
They’re silent. Kate speaks up again. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell her. I’ve already failed her, I don’t want her to think this was her fault. This wasn’t.”
Her head snaps up and her jaw drops a little, all too surprised. “She doesn’t know?”
“No. She’d feel too guilty and never leave, out of obligation and all that. Besides, I did it selfishly. I have my own Santana.”
Kate doesn’t offer anymore than that and Santana doesn’t ask.
“I have to go, Kate. Gotta get back to work.”
“Let’s not make this a thing.” The other woman signals the distance between them with her hands. “I don’t want to have to talk about my ex-wife anymore than I already have.”
Santana frowns but nods anyway. She stands up and pushes her chair back under the table, stalling for time to figure out what to say. Kate beats her to it.
“Don’t let her go again. You don’t get the luxury to repeat the same mistake.”
“Okay,” she says, just standing there. Then she quickly looks through her purse and hands Kate a postcard. She carries one around with her always, just in case.
“Here.”
“What’s this?” Kate asks even as she accepts it, looking at it carefully. “Is this a duck?”
“It’s a postcard. Send it to her. She’ll appreciate it.”
--
Santana is 27 and a half when she visits Brittany and knocks on her door. She has no plan.
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
“What are you doing here?” Brittany says it but there is no surprise in her voice.
“I was gonna send you this postcard saying something about wanting to see you, but then I’d have to wait for it to get here and for you to write back and I’ve always been impatient.” Brittany just smiles at her and that’s good enough for her to continue.
“Britt, I’ve wasted so much time.”
Brittany invites her in. When they’re inside, they make small talk and sit in Brittany’s living room. Santana looks at her, but keeps a decent space between them. This can still blow up in her face.
“Britt, I’ve loved you most, and I’ve always loved you most.”
Brittany smiles at her, like she always does. “I’ve never gotten over you and it wasn’t fair to Kate. But I loved her, too. I just didn’t love her as much as I loved you.”
“Do you still love me?”
“Yeah, I still do.”
There’s that familiar thumpthump thumpthump thumpthump in her chest but for completely different reasons. She’s never been happier to have her heart broken because it feels like nothing else in this world to have her heart fixed.
--
Santana is 28. She has a routine down.
She wakes up and untangles herself from the set of limbs on the other side of the bed. She goes and showers for less than fifteen minutes and then opens the door to cool the steam off from the bathroom.
Brittany gets up and goes there and they brush their teeth together right as Santana wipes the mirror clear. The first time this happened, the blonde just sauntered in the bathroom and took a spare from the side drawer because her mouth felt gross. She never changed and Santana never asked her to.
Brittany always finishes first and she waits for Santana to get done. She stands behind her, puts a kiss on Santana’s naked shoulder and tells her she looks good. Santana always smiles, never smirks. When Santana’s done, they give each other a good morning kiss. It’s her favorite part of their mornings.
When Brittany showers, Santana blow dries her hair. Once, when she finished putting her hair up in a tight bun, Brittany came out of the bathroom in just a towel, looked at her and carefully pulled the hair tie out. She had loudly protested that she didn’t have time for this even though she was kind of distracted by how almost naked Brittany was. Brittany ignored her and just kept combing her fingers through her hair. You look better with your hair down. Keep it down. That was effectively the last time Santana wore her hair up in a tight bun to work.
When she gets to her office Anna, her assistant, lists out her tentative schedule for the day. When Anna goes back to her desk out front, Santana sits in her chair and sees a postcard on her desk waiting for her. There’s always one.
Santana tried figuring out how Brittany always gets the postcards in her office, but Anna kept her mouth shut really well. When Brittany told her just to go with it, she didn’t mind letting go as much as she thought.
It’s the first thing she deals with in the morning at work. Sometimes it’s ducks and kittens and rainbows. Other times it’s a picture of some countryside or lake or fancy building. A couple of times, they’re pictures of Santana’s grandparents’ ecstatic faces taking in the sites of America.
But on the back is always a simple drawing of a bird.
It’s a routine that works for her, for them.
It’s not just good enough, it’s perfect.
Author: yesssirrr
Characters/Pairings: Brittany/Santana; Brittany/OC
Rating: pg-13
Length: 4,078
Spoilers: None; it's a future!fic
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine. I'm just making stuff up about them. Don't sue me because I have an imagination.
Summary: Santana has a routine down, but Brittany's not part of it.
Author's Note: I wrote a sequel to you're a lot to lose because I didn't know how to just leave it alone. So I didn't and then this story just grew.
Author's Note II: I like this, but it's not settling as well as I hoped it would. But if I don't let it go now, I won't ever let it go. Unbeta-ed, so sorry for the mistakes. Enjoy!
;;
Santana is 23. She has a routine down.
It’s the only way she works. She does what she knows and she sticks to what she knows. It keeps her in control and she wouldn’t be Santana Lopez without control.
She’s already up when it’s still dark outside. She goes to shower for less than fifteen minutes, always, before she opens the door to cool off the steam from the bathroom. She wipes the fog off the mirror and smirks at herself, never smiles, and tells herself she looks good.
She’s out the door within the hour after she blow dries her hair and puts it up in a tight bun. It’s the professional step up from high school because everything is still like high school, but not quite.
She’s one of those people that get to work early, starting their day before the majority of the rest of the world even get their hands on their first cup of coffee. She works extremely hard and she knows whose asses to kiss and whose dreams to dash to get where she needs to be.
It’s comforting because life is just like high school, just with different names. Unlike some people she knew, she liked high school. She was good at it.
For all her ‘work hard’ attitude, she breaks ground as one of the youngest business closer in her firm. She’s only 23 but she knows she earned her internship way before she even graduated from college. Her employers think so, too.
By noon time, Santana’s already gone through three meetings and two conference calls to Japan. Barking orders at people and intimidating those around her is what she’s good at. That’s what makes her so good at her job - she gets it done.
But not today.
Today, Santana takes the rest of the day off when her secretary hands her a stack of mail. One of them is a postcard of two kittens with a giant ring in front of the two of them. It’s only confusing until she turns the card around and sees undeniably familiar handwriting.
It’s unsettling that this postcard would even reach her office, but it sets in relatively quickly that they’ve lost touch with each other.
She narrows her eyes and reads the words engaged.
It feels like the biggest punch in the gut. Not even losing one of the business deals with some prominent European business company a couple months ago can compare to this.
Santana doesn’t quite know how to react. There’s something in her chest akin to disappointment that she gets a postcard for this kind of news instead of a phone call. She focuses on that instead of the part where it’s a name that isn’t hers. Besides, this was their tradition. It only seemed fitting.
She and Brittany exchanged postcards all through college but it came few and far between by the time graduation rolled around. Their promises to write and draw to each other were kept intact, or as intact as two busy college students living two busy lives could. But their last exchange to each other was graduation.
She convinced herself that it was time to let go, to move on. She insisted Brittany do the same. Looking back, she thought bitterly how stupid of an idea that was.
They settled on postcards when one day, Santana saw one with a duck in a hat. She couldn’t believe it. She laughed at the bookstore then and there and knew she had to send it. It became their thing because she was never the conversationalist and there were pictures already. But she always drew two simple curves to signify a bird beside her name.
It was a silly thing back in high school after they watched The Notebook and that scene with if I’m a bird, you’re a bird came on. But it made Brittany happy back then, so she played along.
Santana goes home with the postcard stuck in the bottom of her briefcase. She controls her breathing while she tightly grips her steering wheel. When she opens the door to her apartment, it feels really empty. Her heart sinks a little and hopes that this only happens today.
She breaks her routine and settles into more comfortable clothes before she takes the postcard out of her briefcase. She gazes at it for a long time, thinking that the two kittens didn’t look good together. She scowls and tells herself to grow up. This isn’t high school anymore.
All her thoughts lead her to a good enough solution. So she makes it a point to visit Brittany in the west coast. She gives it the rest of the work week to mull things over and work up the courage to give Brittany a call. But it never happens; she never even picked up the phone. Just stared at it.
She sends a postcard of congratulations instead. It upsets her more than she’s willing to admit that she can’t draw that little bird beside her name anymore.
So Santana settles for making up for all of these distractions by finally bringing some loose woman who’s been going after her for a while back to her apartment. The woman’s a blonde and really, that’s good enough for her.
--
A year passes by. She’s 24. She has the same routine down.
Except she adds sleeping around and drinking a lot to her schedule.
It isn’t ideal, but it satisfied her. She worked hard and played hard and decided resolutely that settling down will not be in her immediate or distant future.
Then she gets another postcard. It’s a wedding invitation.
She spends an entire day staring at it after she throws it on her coffee table. She knows what she wants to do, but she doesn’t do it. She’s not good enough of a person not to resist ruining what’s meant to be the happiest day of Brittany’s life.
So she declines and sends a postcard that says congratulations with a half hearted apology that she’s missing out. It sounds like a good enough response, but she just knows that Brittany will see through it all.
She signs it with her name and a simple drawing of a bird. It’s like her silent fight against it all, but she’s too much of a coward to actually fight for anything. By the time she realizes that was the dumbest thing she had done in a long time (not even that time she had drunkenly fucked around with one of her female bosses that past Christmas party), she gets a postcard back from Brittany.
Brittany accepts the apology and draws a bird beside her name. Santana has no idea what to think of that.
She stuffs the postcard into a box she hides in her closet because it’s one of those skeletons now.
--
It’s another year. She’s 25. She has a solid routine down.
This time, it’s without the sleeping around and the alcohol.
The change comes from a summer trip she took to Colombia to visit her grandparents. They humbled her down when they told her how proud they were, to have someone succeed in America, of all places. To be a strong, independent woman, no less.
One afternoon her grandfather pulled her aside and placed a strong arm around her shoulders. Called her mi hija and kissed her on the forehead, pride apparent in his eyes. It reminded her of her own father doing the exact same thing all those years ago. Her thoughts didn’t drift too far to remember what else happened back then. It made her tear up right there beside him.
She decides she doesn’t want to disappoint them when she goes back home because she doesn’t think she deserves words that are too kind and too generous when she’s really just too scared and too weak.
Santana thinks about sending Brittany a postcard. She doesn’t think it’s a good idea, but she stamps that thought down quickly and relents, writing the most she’s ever written on the back of a postcard of a Colombian farm, similar to the one her grandparents live in.
She’s never been more thankful that there’s no room for her to draw anything else except for her initial.
She at least wants to think that they’re still friends, even after all this time.
Brittany sends a postcard a couple of weeks later, telling her that she’s excited for Santana to have something like that to experience. Then, she invites her to visit. Santana finally accepts because she’s not petty anymore. She’s grown.
They plan her trip and it’s the first time she’s been this excited to go anywhere. She can tell that Brittany’s excited too. It makes her feel like she’s in high school again, the butterflies and the giddiness. It’s not what she wanted because she’s older now, more mature. But some things are just hard to change.
She sees Brittany first. She looks more beautiful than Santana ever remembers. She schools her breathing down to keep calm even though her heart is thumpthump thumpthump thumpthumping in her chest. She gives herself a few more moments to just absorb the sight of Brittany before reminding herself that Brittany’s married.
One last exhale and she walks up to them.
Santana makes her appearance known and is greeted with a hug that she knows can only come from Brittany. They break apart and Brittany pulls away, walking over to a blonde woman standing somewhere to the side.
She meets Brittany’s wife, Kate. She’s everything Santana isn’t and a part of her thinks that doesn’t add up. But they look happy, especially standing in front of her in a crowded airport, so it must be some weird math equation she’s not a part of.
Maybe that’s what’s not making sense.
The drive to Brittany’s house is not at all awkward, like she imagined it to be. She forgot just how easy it is to fall back into how they were, back in high school. This is a good enough alternative, so she commits it to memory, tries to remember Brittany’s laughter as she conveniently tries to ignore Kate’s hand in Brittany’s.
They’re in Brittany and Kate’s backyard somewhere in suburban California. When Brittany leaves to get them more refreshments, Kate speaks up first before she can even open her mouth.
“So you’re her?” is a question that comes so out of the blue that she almost chokes on her drink.
“Excuse me?” she says, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, putting her drink down.
“The girl - the one who let her go in high school.”
She tries really hard not to scowl because she’s better than that, but she doesn’t see how this woman in front of her has the right or the gall to judge her for that. They were just kids.
“Uh, yeah.”
She doesn’t like the feeling of helplessness, so it upsets her that this woman blind sides her like this. No formalities or niceties at all - just straight to the point. In any other circumstances, she would even admire this kind of forwardness, but being under scrutiny of your ex-girlfriend’s wife is a very different circumstance.
“A lot to live up to.” Santana doesn’t know what’s going on and she really doesn’t like it, this lack of control.
“What?”
“You’re a lot to live up to.”
They’re silent. She doesn’t know where this woman is getting at, if she’s having a go at her.
“But you’re the one she’s married to.” She hates how it sounds like a defeat.
“Now I have her.”
“Yeah, now you have her.” She doesn’t think the bitterness in her voice is apparent, but she can’t be too sure. She’s been guarding so many things in her life, she doesn’t know how well she’s protecting herself these days.
When Brittany comes back from the kitchen, she asks what they talked about while they were gone, a smile on her face before she sits beside her wife. Kate pretends like they were talking about the weather. Brittany looks at her and she blinks before confirming Kate’s words. Brittany drops it but Santana doesn’t look at her in the eye for the rest of the day.
Santana leaves a couple of days later. She can see how happy Brittany is with this life and it’s exactly what she wished for her to have, from the very beginning. She comforts herself with this fact even though it’s a life without her.
She ignores that part when they drive to the airport by themselves. It surprises her a little, but Kate reasons that she has things to get done at work.
Santana has the good graces to shake the other woman’s hand before she leaves because Kate’s giving her something she would never ask for.
When they call for her flight, the two of them look up. It brings her back to a time when they were just teenagers. It’s like repeating the mistake all over again.
“I’m really glad you could finally come.” Santana nods. Brittany hugs her far longer than she thinks she should. She doesn’t complain though, just holds on tighter. She’s memorizing this. She knows that this might be the last time she has the energy to be near Brittany again, so she’ll just try and remember her, even if this is the only way.
“Write me,” Brittany says with an easy smile as Santana pulls the strap over her shoulder.
“Nobody writes anymore” is out of her mouth before this déjà vu registers in her head. Brittany just smiles wider.
“Then let’s be nobody.” Santana laughs a little and nods. She takes one last look at her before walking away.
She hears Draw pictures, too! yelled across the airport and she turns around with a small wave.
Santana only starts letting herself think about everything when she’s already thousands of miles up in the air, where no one can touch her or bother her.
Where thinking about going back to a life where she leaves Brittany again is even remotely possible.
--
It’s another year. She’s 26. She has a routine down.
She adds ‘writing to Brittany’ as one of them. Still postcards though because anything else is false hope.
One day, Brittany calls. She shifts uncomfortably because it’s that loss of control again.
Brittany calls her in tears one day and tells her how Kate cheated on her with some floozy ex-girlfriend. She doesn’t know what to do. She’s never been good at consoling Brittany without physical contact. She never had the right words and even if she did, she doesn’t know how to throw it out there to make anyone feel better. That was always Brittany’s strength. So it breaks her heart when she’s on the other side of the country not knowing how to get rid of Brittany’s pain.
She knows she’s said the wrong thing when silence falls on them.
“What? No, San. This is my marriage. This is for better or worse. This is the ‘for worse’.”
She feels like a giant asshole. So she pretends to understand where Brittany’s coming from. She knows that if she ever made the same mistake, she’d want for Brittany to forgive her, too. But she doesn’t think Kate deserves the chance. It’s childish, but she’s come to learn that she hasn’t grown up much at all when it comes to Brittany.
She pushes down the idea that she and Kate could be very similar to each other after all.
She does her best to do what she can for Brittany, but she knows it’s not much help. Slowly, the routine she has with her changes and they’re drifting again - Brittany trying to fix her marriage and Santana throwing herself at her work. It’s the only thing she’s ever committed to anymore.
Six months later, she gets a postcard. All it says is I couldn’t trust her anymore.
Santana drops her work and visits Brittany. She keeps a considerable amount of distance.
“I always wondered if she was cheating again, if she was thinking of someone else. I wanted to trust her. But I couldn’t anymore.”
Santana holds her until Brittany falls asleep in her arms, her face buried in blonde hair. She pretends it’s a different life from years ago, that she’s allowed to do this. It’s the only way she knows how to console Brittany. She doesn’t say anything. She stays the night on Brittany’s couch after she carries the blonde into the bedroom.
She does sneak a kiss to Brittany’s forehead because old habits die hard.
They don’t do anything because Santana’s not a rebound and Brittany knows never to treat her like that. She knows no good can come out of it and she holds herself back, goes to the airport by herself, writing on a postcard a goodbye and a promise to stay in contact.
They stay in touch and they write their postcards, back and forth. It’s their tradition.
--
Santana is 27 when she runs into Brittany’s ex-wife at a business conference in Michigan. It takes all of her resolve not to slap the other woman. When she instinctively balls her fists up, Kate throws her hands up in surrender.
All she hears is let me explain.
“Why did you do it?” is out of her mouth before she even sits down across from the other woman. She’s glad she picked a public place because anywhere else would have been fair game for anything.
“Why did you?”
“Excuse me? I’m not the one who cheated!” Bits and pieces of the old Santana was coming back, the one that was always up for a good fight. She won’t admit it, but she likes how it still fits her, like an old jacket she’s long ago retired.
“Neither of us are blameless here, okay? You are the one that let her go. I saw how you looked at her and I saw how she looked at you. We didn’t look at each other like that. And those damn postcards always made her happier than anything I could’ve given her.”
She’s confused now and the scowl on her face is deep. She doesn’t appreciate the accusation even though she knows it’s more than true.
“So why did you marry her?”
“Why do people marry each other these days? Our love was good enough. Our lives were good enough. We were just good enough for each other so we settled. But I wanted to let her go because I didn’t want to tie her down anymore, not when you’re around. So I gave her a way out and I cheated. But she’s been so fearful of always failing that she wanted to make our marriage work because she didn’t want to list it as another failure in her life. She eventually left and I know she’s happier now.”
“Why didn’t you just tell her?”
Kate leans forward and looks at her seriously. “Would you have? If you were me?”
“Yes!” she says all too quickly.
“You tell yourself that.” She doesn’t believe herself either. “I know what I did was wrong, but she would never have been as happy with me when you’re somewhere out there in the world, loving her back.”
They’re silent. Kate speaks up again. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell her. I’ve already failed her, I don’t want her to think this was her fault. This wasn’t.”
Her head snaps up and her jaw drops a little, all too surprised. “She doesn’t know?”
“No. She’d feel too guilty and never leave, out of obligation and all that. Besides, I did it selfishly. I have my own Santana.”
Kate doesn’t offer anymore than that and Santana doesn’t ask.
“I have to go, Kate. Gotta get back to work.”
“Let’s not make this a thing.” The other woman signals the distance between them with her hands. “I don’t want to have to talk about my ex-wife anymore than I already have.”
Santana frowns but nods anyway. She stands up and pushes her chair back under the table, stalling for time to figure out what to say. Kate beats her to it.
“Don’t let her go again. You don’t get the luxury to repeat the same mistake.”
“Okay,” she says, just standing there. Then she quickly looks through her purse and hands Kate a postcard. She carries one around with her always, just in case.
“Here.”
“What’s this?” Kate asks even as she accepts it, looking at it carefully. “Is this a duck?”
“It’s a postcard. Send it to her. She’ll appreciate it.”
--
Santana is 27 and a half when she visits Brittany and knocks on her door. She has no plan.
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
“What are you doing here?” Brittany says it but there is no surprise in her voice.
“I was gonna send you this postcard saying something about wanting to see you, but then I’d have to wait for it to get here and for you to write back and I’ve always been impatient.” Brittany just smiles at her and that’s good enough for her to continue.
“Britt, I’ve wasted so much time.”
Brittany invites her in. When they’re inside, they make small talk and sit in Brittany’s living room. Santana looks at her, but keeps a decent space between them. This can still blow up in her face.
“Britt, I’ve loved you most, and I’ve always loved you most.”
Brittany smiles at her, like she always does. “I’ve never gotten over you and it wasn’t fair to Kate. But I loved her, too. I just didn’t love her as much as I loved you.”
“Do you still love me?”
“Yeah, I still do.”
There’s that familiar thumpthump thumpthump thumpthump in her chest but for completely different reasons. She’s never been happier to have her heart broken because it feels like nothing else in this world to have her heart fixed.
--
Santana is 28. She has a routine down.
She wakes up and untangles herself from the set of limbs on the other side of the bed. She goes and showers for less than fifteen minutes and then opens the door to cool the steam off from the bathroom.
Brittany gets up and goes there and they brush their teeth together right as Santana wipes the mirror clear. The first time this happened, the blonde just sauntered in the bathroom and took a spare from the side drawer because her mouth felt gross. She never changed and Santana never asked her to.
Brittany always finishes first and she waits for Santana to get done. She stands behind her, puts a kiss on Santana’s naked shoulder and tells her she looks good. Santana always smiles, never smirks. When Santana’s done, they give each other a good morning kiss. It’s her favorite part of their mornings.
When Brittany showers, Santana blow dries her hair. Once, when she finished putting her hair up in a tight bun, Brittany came out of the bathroom in just a towel, looked at her and carefully pulled the hair tie out. She had loudly protested that she didn’t have time for this even though she was kind of distracted by how almost naked Brittany was. Brittany ignored her and just kept combing her fingers through her hair. You look better with your hair down. Keep it down. That was effectively the last time Santana wore her hair up in a tight bun to work.
When she gets to her office Anna, her assistant, lists out her tentative schedule for the day. When Anna goes back to her desk out front, Santana sits in her chair and sees a postcard on her desk waiting for her. There’s always one.
Santana tried figuring out how Brittany always gets the postcards in her office, but Anna kept her mouth shut really well. When Brittany told her just to go with it, she didn’t mind letting go as much as she thought.
It’s the first thing she deals with in the morning at work. Sometimes it’s ducks and kittens and rainbows. Other times it’s a picture of some countryside or lake or fancy building. A couple of times, they’re pictures of Santana’s grandparents’ ecstatic faces taking in the sites of America.
But on the back is always a simple drawing of a bird.
It’s a routine that works for her, for them.
It’s not just good enough, it’s perfect.