fic: destination beautiful - glee, brittany/santana, pg-13
Title: Destination Beautiful
Author: zerodetorres
Characters: Brittany/Santana, minor Finn/Santana, implied Finn/Rachel
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~1500
Timeline: 2x08, Furt
Summary: A chat with Finn Hudson leads to some revelations.
Santana finds Finn alone in the hotel room he’s sharing with his new step-brother, fidgeting with his tie. She’d bartered (read: threatened) the card key from Kurt, and really, she probably should’ve knocked, in case he and that midget girlfriend of his were making out or something. Gross.
But no, he’s just standing there, staring into the mirror. He startles at the sound of her entering.
Finn looks surprised to see her, and more than a little uncomfortable. He raises his hands defensively in front of his chest.
“Santana, look, I’m in love with Rachel, and-”
“Chill out, Frankenteen,” Santana interrupts. “I’m not here to seduce you.” She straightens up and approaches him. “Although I’d totally be successful this time.”
Confusion blankets Finn’s face. His arms drop to his sides. “Then what… are you doing here?”
Santana shrugs her shoulders. “I needed to get away for a while.” She crosses her arms defensively over her chest. “Look, if you’re going to be an ass about it, I’ll just leave.”
“No, no, stay. You just look really hot, and it would suck if you like took off your clothes right now and I had to say no.” His eyes widen. “Don’t tell Rachel I said that.”
Santana smirks. “Keep it in your pants, Hudson. I’m not making that mistake again. Not unless you ditch that dumpy girlfriend of yours.” She slumps down on one of the beds and looks up at his towering form. “You’re eventually going to have to tell her, you know.” It comes out softer than she’d intended, so she roughly appends, “That we fucked.”
“She doesn’t have to know,” Finn insists, pawing nervously at the back of his head. “You didn’t tell anyone, did you?”
“Brittany knows,” Santana admits. She catches herself, eyes flickering up to Finn. “She’s the one who even told me to sleep with you in the first place.”
Finn’s eyes dart toward the door anxiously. “She won’t tell, will she?”
Santana knits her brows in disgust. “You’re seriously going to go your whole life lying to her?”
“I can’t tell her, Santana.” He looks down. “I’m in love with her.”
“That’s the reason you should tell her.” Santana rolls her eyes at her own words. “I didn’t come here to listen to your relationship problems.” I have enough of my own goes unspoken.
Finn, for all his cluelessness, seems to pick up on it anyway. “Speaking of lying to people you love, I heard from Artie that you told Brittany she was just a warm body.”
“Artie doesn’t know shit.” Santana jumps off the bed and heads for the door, an irrational rage brewing inside her. “I’m leaving,” she declares.
Finn catches her wrist and stops her. “Wait, Santana; come on, don’t do that.”
Santana pivots to face him. “Let go of me,” she warns.
Finn’s grip tempers, and Santana shakes his hand away.
Finn takes a breath. “Look, I’m not the smartest guy in the world-”
“Understatement of the year,” Santana cuts in.
“-but I know that you didn’t come after me tonight because you wanted to be my girlfriend.” He looks nervously at her. “I think.”
“It’s actually sickening how devoted you are to that dwarf,” Santana deflects.
“Don’t call Rachel that,” Finn huffs. He watches her for a moment, then tucks his hands into his pockets. “I’m not Puck. I don’t cheat on my girlfriend with my best friend’s girl.”
Santana grimaces. “Puck and I have sex, okay? That’s it. I’m not ‘his girl.’ He isn’t exactly boyfriend material.”
“Is that what you want?” Finn asks gently, in a tone that makes her resent him. “A boyfriend?” He pauses, and when Santana doesn’t respond, he generously offers, “Or a girlfriend. One with like - oh, I don’t know - blonde hair and blue eyes?”
Santana bristles. “I don’t need anyone. And I’m not gay, so knock it off.”
Finn presses his lips together. “You’re trying to preach honesty to me, right?”
“Not preaching,” Santana counters. “Just saying that if Rachel finds out on your fucking wedding night that I swiped your v-card, she’s going to flip her shit.”
Something flashes momentarily across Finn’s eyes. Something like understanding. Like a quiet revelation. She knows that Finn’s thinking about his own wedding night. Thinking about spending the rest of his life with an annoying drama queen who talks like she’s swallowed half the goddamn thesaurus. But he’s smiling like he knows the secret to eternity, and it makes Santana’s heart ache for affection she doesn’t have.
A lengthy and stifling silence stretches between them. Santana itches to turn on her heels and leave. Find Puck for a quickie and forget everything she’s suddenly feeling.
“I’ll tell Rachel if you tell Brittany,” he finally offers.
Santana swallows against the lump in her throat. Her mouth feels dry. “Tell Brittany what?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” He waves his hand dismissively. “That you’re in love with her? That you want her to stop dating Artie and date you instead?”
“She’s not dating Artie,” Santana knee-jerks.
Finn raises an eyebrow, the corner of his lips upturning. “But everything else, that’s true?”
“No,” Santana insists, her cheeks suddenly hot. “Just-shut up,” she mutters.
A knock at the door jars both of them from their conversation. Finn walks past Santana and pulls open the door. Kurt walks in, Brittany in tow, and Santana’s heart flips at the sight of her, still in her red dress from the wedding. Brittany’s hair is significantly messier than it had been earlier in the afternoon when Santana had helped her with it, and the orange flower is gone, but Santana’s breath catches anyway.
Kurt grabs Finn by the bicep and begins to tug him out of the room.
“What’s going on?” Finn asks, looking back and forth between the two new visitors.
“Those two need to have a chat,” Kurt explains. “And you need to come help me stop our parents from drinking too much.”
Finn’s brows are still curled in confusion when he and Kurt disappear out the door.
Santana looks at Brittany through the silence of the hotel room, feeling confined and greatly unsure.
“I’m tired,” Brittany announces, eyeing the bed.
“You should stop dating Artie,” Santana blurts out, immediately wishing she could take it back.
Brittany remains largely unmoved. “You don’t get to tell me what to do,” she says quietly.
“He’s an idiot,” Santana continues, taking a step closer. “And he doesn’t deserve you.”
Brittany frowns. “Don’t talk about him like that; he’s my boyfriend.”
Santana shakes her head, unable to stop herself. “No, he’s not. He’s just using you, and-”
“Stop it,” Brittany interrupts icily.
“Brittany,” Santana breathes out, feeling her chest constrict painfully. She’s close enough now that she can see Brittany’s freckles peppering her cheeks, and she just wants to lean in and press their lips together. That used to solve all their problems.
“You used me too,” Brittany points out. “Just for sex.”
“That’s not true,” Santana mutters, eyes lowering.
“Yes it is,” Brittany insists with conviction. “You said so yourself.”
“I didn’t use you for sex.” Santana furrows her brows, fighting a surge of emotion. “I miss you.”
“I don’t care,” Brittany says softly, averting Santana’s eyes.
“Britt,” Santana pleads, “don’t be like that.”
Brittany’s eyes flash. “You’re always like that.”
“I didn’t fucking use you for sex,” Santana snaps. She takes a shaky breath. “I’m an idiot, okay? You’re not just a warm body. God, you’re-I miss the way you look at me, like I’m the most important person in the world. I miss kissing you, and not just because it usually means we’re about to get naked, but because you kiss me like there’s nothing else you’d rather be doing. I miss knowing that as much as we mess around with other people, you’re the one I always go back to.” Santana blinks back tears, and it hurts. Her whole body is shaking. “Brittany,” she tries again, her voice low and scratchy in her throat, “you’re the one.”
A slow stream of tears streaks Brittany’s cheeks, and Santana reaches up to brush at them with the pads of her thumbs.
“Don’t cry,” Santana whispers. “I’m sorry.”
Brittany doesn’t say anything, just sniffs quietly and leans in to Santana’s touch. Santana cradles her there for what seems like hours, until Brittany pulls away and tugs Santana onto one of the beds.
Santana lies down next to Brittany and drapes her arm over Brittany’s midsection, protectively pulling her closer. Brittany buries her face against Santana’s neck and lets out a soft sigh. Santana absentmindedly rakes her fingers through Brittany’s hair, warmth flooding through her bones. Everything begins to shift back into place.
“Santana?”
“Hmm?”
Brittany shifts, her leg tangling with Santana’s. “We’ll be okay, you know.”
Santana smiles faintly and presses a kiss to Brittany’s hair. “I know.”
Author: zerodetorres
Characters: Brittany/Santana, minor Finn/Santana, implied Finn/Rachel
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~1500
Timeline: 2x08, Furt
Summary: A chat with Finn Hudson leads to some revelations.
Santana finds Finn alone in the hotel room he’s sharing with his new step-brother, fidgeting with his tie. She’d bartered (read: threatened) the card key from Kurt, and really, she probably should’ve knocked, in case he and that midget girlfriend of his were making out or something. Gross.
But no, he’s just standing there, staring into the mirror. He startles at the sound of her entering.
Finn looks surprised to see her, and more than a little uncomfortable. He raises his hands defensively in front of his chest.
“Santana, look, I’m in love with Rachel, and-”
“Chill out, Frankenteen,” Santana interrupts. “I’m not here to seduce you.” She straightens up and approaches him. “Although I’d totally be successful this time.”
Confusion blankets Finn’s face. His arms drop to his sides. “Then what… are you doing here?”
Santana shrugs her shoulders. “I needed to get away for a while.” She crosses her arms defensively over her chest. “Look, if you’re going to be an ass about it, I’ll just leave.”
“No, no, stay. You just look really hot, and it would suck if you like took off your clothes right now and I had to say no.” His eyes widen. “Don’t tell Rachel I said that.”
Santana smirks. “Keep it in your pants, Hudson. I’m not making that mistake again. Not unless you ditch that dumpy girlfriend of yours.” She slumps down on one of the beds and looks up at his towering form. “You’re eventually going to have to tell her, you know.” It comes out softer than she’d intended, so she roughly appends, “That we fucked.”
“She doesn’t have to know,” Finn insists, pawing nervously at the back of his head. “You didn’t tell anyone, did you?”
“Brittany knows,” Santana admits. She catches herself, eyes flickering up to Finn. “She’s the one who even told me to sleep with you in the first place.”
Finn’s eyes dart toward the door anxiously. “She won’t tell, will she?”
Santana knits her brows in disgust. “You’re seriously going to go your whole life lying to her?”
“I can’t tell her, Santana.” He looks down. “I’m in love with her.”
“That’s the reason you should tell her.” Santana rolls her eyes at her own words. “I didn’t come here to listen to your relationship problems.” I have enough of my own goes unspoken.
Finn, for all his cluelessness, seems to pick up on it anyway. “Speaking of lying to people you love, I heard from Artie that you told Brittany she was just a warm body.”
“Artie doesn’t know shit.” Santana jumps off the bed and heads for the door, an irrational rage brewing inside her. “I’m leaving,” she declares.
Finn catches her wrist and stops her. “Wait, Santana; come on, don’t do that.”
Santana pivots to face him. “Let go of me,” she warns.
Finn’s grip tempers, and Santana shakes his hand away.
Finn takes a breath. “Look, I’m not the smartest guy in the world-”
“Understatement of the year,” Santana cuts in.
“-but I know that you didn’t come after me tonight because you wanted to be my girlfriend.” He looks nervously at her. “I think.”
“It’s actually sickening how devoted you are to that dwarf,” Santana deflects.
“Don’t call Rachel that,” Finn huffs. He watches her for a moment, then tucks his hands into his pockets. “I’m not Puck. I don’t cheat on my girlfriend with my best friend’s girl.”
Santana grimaces. “Puck and I have sex, okay? That’s it. I’m not ‘his girl.’ He isn’t exactly boyfriend material.”
“Is that what you want?” Finn asks gently, in a tone that makes her resent him. “A boyfriend?” He pauses, and when Santana doesn’t respond, he generously offers, “Or a girlfriend. One with like - oh, I don’t know - blonde hair and blue eyes?”
Santana bristles. “I don’t need anyone. And I’m not gay, so knock it off.”
Finn presses his lips together. “You’re trying to preach honesty to me, right?”
“Not preaching,” Santana counters. “Just saying that if Rachel finds out on your fucking wedding night that I swiped your v-card, she’s going to flip her shit.”
Something flashes momentarily across Finn’s eyes. Something like understanding. Like a quiet revelation. She knows that Finn’s thinking about his own wedding night. Thinking about spending the rest of his life with an annoying drama queen who talks like she’s swallowed half the goddamn thesaurus. But he’s smiling like he knows the secret to eternity, and it makes Santana’s heart ache for affection she doesn’t have.
A lengthy and stifling silence stretches between them. Santana itches to turn on her heels and leave. Find Puck for a quickie and forget everything she’s suddenly feeling.
“I’ll tell Rachel if you tell Brittany,” he finally offers.
Santana swallows against the lump in her throat. Her mouth feels dry. “Tell Brittany what?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” He waves his hand dismissively. “That you’re in love with her? That you want her to stop dating Artie and date you instead?”
“She’s not dating Artie,” Santana knee-jerks.
Finn raises an eyebrow, the corner of his lips upturning. “But everything else, that’s true?”
“No,” Santana insists, her cheeks suddenly hot. “Just-shut up,” she mutters.
A knock at the door jars both of them from their conversation. Finn walks past Santana and pulls open the door. Kurt walks in, Brittany in tow, and Santana’s heart flips at the sight of her, still in her red dress from the wedding. Brittany’s hair is significantly messier than it had been earlier in the afternoon when Santana had helped her with it, and the orange flower is gone, but Santana’s breath catches anyway.
Kurt grabs Finn by the bicep and begins to tug him out of the room.
“What’s going on?” Finn asks, looking back and forth between the two new visitors.
“Those two need to have a chat,” Kurt explains. “And you need to come help me stop our parents from drinking too much.”
Finn’s brows are still curled in confusion when he and Kurt disappear out the door.
Santana looks at Brittany through the silence of the hotel room, feeling confined and greatly unsure.
“I’m tired,” Brittany announces, eyeing the bed.
“You should stop dating Artie,” Santana blurts out, immediately wishing she could take it back.
Brittany remains largely unmoved. “You don’t get to tell me what to do,” she says quietly.
“He’s an idiot,” Santana continues, taking a step closer. “And he doesn’t deserve you.”
Brittany frowns. “Don’t talk about him like that; he’s my boyfriend.”
Santana shakes her head, unable to stop herself. “No, he’s not. He’s just using you, and-”
“Stop it,” Brittany interrupts icily.
“Brittany,” Santana breathes out, feeling her chest constrict painfully. She’s close enough now that she can see Brittany’s freckles peppering her cheeks, and she just wants to lean in and press their lips together. That used to solve all their problems.
“You used me too,” Brittany points out. “Just for sex.”
“That’s not true,” Santana mutters, eyes lowering.
“Yes it is,” Brittany insists with conviction. “You said so yourself.”
“I didn’t use you for sex.” Santana furrows her brows, fighting a surge of emotion. “I miss you.”
“I don’t care,” Brittany says softly, averting Santana’s eyes.
“Britt,” Santana pleads, “don’t be like that.”
Brittany’s eyes flash. “You’re always like that.”
“I didn’t fucking use you for sex,” Santana snaps. She takes a shaky breath. “I’m an idiot, okay? You’re not just a warm body. God, you’re-I miss the way you look at me, like I’m the most important person in the world. I miss kissing you, and not just because it usually means we’re about to get naked, but because you kiss me like there’s nothing else you’d rather be doing. I miss knowing that as much as we mess around with other people, you’re the one I always go back to.” Santana blinks back tears, and it hurts. Her whole body is shaking. “Brittany,” she tries again, her voice low and scratchy in her throat, “you’re the one.”
A slow stream of tears streaks Brittany’s cheeks, and Santana reaches up to brush at them with the pads of her thumbs.
“Don’t cry,” Santana whispers. “I’m sorry.”
Brittany doesn’t say anything, just sniffs quietly and leans in to Santana’s touch. Santana cradles her there for what seems like hours, until Brittany pulls away and tugs Santana onto one of the beds.
Santana lies down next to Brittany and drapes her arm over Brittany’s midsection, protectively pulling her closer. Brittany buries her face against Santana’s neck and lets out a soft sigh. Santana absentmindedly rakes her fingers through Brittany’s hair, warmth flooding through her bones. Everything begins to shift back into place.
“Santana?”
“Hmm?”
Brittany shifts, her leg tangling with Santana’s. “We’ll be okay, you know.”
Santana smiles faintly and presses a kiss to Brittany’s hair. “I know.”