River deep, mountain high, if I lost you, would I cry?
Title: Forsaking All The Rest
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Brittany/Santana, others implied
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,601
Summary: Brittany loves everyone, and it takes too long for Santana to admit important things, even to herself.
A/N: My reaction to Duets. Primarily I did this to make myself feel better; I'm not even going to lie. I hope this makes sense to other fans of the pairing.
Brittany is pretty sure that she loves everyone.
Maybe not everyone in the entire world, but at least everyone she’s met. Some people are pretty and some people have beautiful voices and some people have nice thoughts about things Brittany doesn’t understand but that sound so smart and important and some people dress really well and some people seem like they don’t have anything good about them at all, but Brittany knows that if she looks a little closer, digs under their clothes and beneath their skin and into what makes them whimper and sweat and cry out when she finds just the right way to touch them, she can see the good in them. It just takes a little work.
And Brittany has never minded the work. It’s a lot of fun, and more often than not, it makes her feel just as good.
Brittany has looked for the good in a lot of people - a hundred and six at last count, but she’s never been very good at counting - but she has an absolute favorite. It seems unfair to say that out loud, given everybody else she’s played with, so she never does.
But Santana? She’s the best.
Santana is the best because she isn’t exactly like anyone else, and because she’s always a little bit different - sometimes her neck arches back, mouth open, gasping deep, and sometimes her head thrashes back and forth as her nails dig into Brittany’s shoulders, and sometimes they dig into Brittany’s hips while she chants demands for more, more and almost throws herself off the bed and into Brittany’s arms.
Santana is the best because after, she always stays and rests her head against Brittany’s shoulder or hip or presses the length of herself against Brittany’s spine, and sometimes other people do that but they don’t fit like this; every little notch and crook of Santana’s body lining up with Brittany’s like a warm and weighty echo of herself.
So when Santana says it, It’s not like I love you, Brittany is confused and a little upset because she doesn’t understand how she can love someone so much without them feeling the same way.
Oh, Brittany has loved so many people who haven’t loved her back, and that was always okay, but this? Santana is hers, or at least Brittany thought so - hers to love and hers to share with, hers to come home to when things got a little rough, but if Santana doesn’t love her, then who does?
It all comes down to the competition, Brittany decides, and Artie doesn’t have a partner yet and he hasn’t had a partner yet - Brittany has a sense about these things - and maybe she thought he was a robot at first but she never thought he was an unattractive robot even if the idea scared her a little. To imagine him as he is, human and with the voice he has, she can’t resist.
Of course she doesn’t want Mercedes to win if Santana is her partner. Breadsticks was always theirs - Santana only ever took her there as bait for a new partner, but Brittany never minded. In fact, it always seemed like fun. But Brittany knows she isn’t smart, and she knows regardless that if Santana goes to their place with someone else, it doesn’t mean anything good. At least, not like this.
When Brittany practices with Artie, and when she places him on her bed and gives herself to him like so many before him, she doesn’t do it because of Santana, or Mercedes, or Puck who’s in juvie, or for anyone else, but for Artie, because she loves him. Because Brittany loves everyone, and because there are few things Brittany loves more than to see the expression on someone’s face when they feel what she’s giving them for the first time.
Few things, of course, except for the way Santana looks when Brittany is on her back and pressing up until Santana gasps and swears and sinks her fingers into Brittany’s sides where the bruises won’t show under her Cheerios uniform.
Brittany loves Santana, and she loves Artie, and when he tells her that she’s taken something important from him and used it like a worthless, shiny trinket, Brittany doesn’t understand.
Brittany isn’t smart, but it only takes a second for her to realize that Santana told him something that wasn’t true.
She misses Artie, because she loves him and because it hurts that he doesn’t understand, but most of all she misses Santana, because as mean as she is and as much as Brittany and everyone else hates her, Brittany loves her best.
---
Sure, Santana will never admit it; there are a lot of things she'll never admit, especially to herself. It took her forever to accept the fact that she didn't hate glee club, and even longer to force herself to realize that she liked it; maybe even loved it, in a stupid, twisted way. And it took her until the last possible second to tell anyone else about it - Brittany already knew, of course, because as unbearably stupid as Brittany is, Santana will never, ever be able to hide anything from her. Maybe she could if she tried; sure. Why not? But then again, why try?
So yeah, it takes awhile for Santana to admit things, even, and maybe especially, to herself. Maybe it takes a year and some change for her to accept the fact that she likes Noah-fucking-Puckerman a little more than common sense dictates she has any goddamn right to - not that she hasn't laid claim to him long since, and she'll keep him out of Princess Quinn's grubby paws for as long as she can, although she's starting to think it might not be that long until she has to give him up.
Fine, it's not a problem, because Santana always gets what she wants, and if she doesn't it's only because she didn't want it in the first place. So when Brittany starts getting a little sweeter on Santana than on everybody else, it's weird and uncommon and Santana would ask her what the fuck is going on except that Britt would only smile dopishly and pull Santana closer for another kiss, and Santana gets distracted. Anybody would, and who the hell would judge her for it? Nobody, because everybody in the school has fucked Brittany and Santana has a hard time judging them for it, although she'll judge all of them for anything else if given the chance.
But judging anybody is a little hard with Brittany's tongue in her mouth and a hand up her Cheerios skirt - yeah, that skirt gets Santana a lot of play, but whenever Britt comes over, the only place she wants to see that damn thing is flung over the corner of her mirror. Not that not wanting to see the fucking thing anymore keeps Santana's eye out of the mirror, watching herself slide down Britt's long, pale torso and settle between her trembling legs to find the one thing she can't have from Noah-fucking-Puckerman.
Santana can't deny that Puck knows how to treat a lady, but it's only when she has Brittany on her back and a pair of long legs hooked over her shoulders that Santana can feel what it's like to make somebody thrash and writhe and arch up under her grip again and again and again until her own name is pouring from someone's lips in a desperate and almost agonized plea--
There are things Santana probably shouldn't remember during Spanish class, although Mr. Shue is pretty damn hot, if only he'd forget about his ex-wife and his pansy off-and-on-girlfriend for five minutes. Or an hour. Santana wonders if Brittany's as hot for teacher as she is, and the beautiful thing about Brittany is that she's hot for everyone and Santana doesn't even have to ask, just take her by the hand and pull her into bed with the latest willing recipient of their so-called affections.
It's kind of a shame Mr. Shue is so damn uptight. Maybe Britt would be willing to do some playing around next time they hook up. Girl's as bright as a sack of bricks, but she's a surprisingly good actor when it comes down to it.
But Santana doesn't like to admit some things to anyone, not even herself, and when Noah-fucking-Puckerman gets himself thrown in fucking juvie and nobody knows when he'll be out and Santana just wants a little comfort, Britt has to act like they're dating, and that's beyond stupid, because it's not like they hold hands in the hallways and go on nights out and hook up when they're feeling hot and bring home their newest catch for the other to play with and--
…Well, it's not like they ever made an agreement, everything else aside.
So now they're fighting, or at least Britt seems to think they are, and Santana teams up with Mercedes because that bitch has a set of pipes like no other and if Santana can win this thing she can prove to Brittany that they don't need each other and that it's stupid as hell to think they ever did.
And maybe it takes a long time for Santana to admit things to herself that she didn't want anyone to know, including herself, but maybe it kind of fucking hurts to see the hottest piece of ass and sweetest pair of blue eyes and the best friend she's ever had acting like she doesn't even exist.
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Brittany/Santana, others implied
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,601
Summary: Brittany loves everyone, and it takes too long for Santana to admit important things, even to herself.
A/N: My reaction to Duets. Primarily I did this to make myself feel better; I'm not even going to lie. I hope this makes sense to other fans of the pairing.
Brittany is pretty sure that she loves everyone.
Maybe not everyone in the entire world, but at least everyone she’s met. Some people are pretty and some people have beautiful voices and some people have nice thoughts about things Brittany doesn’t understand but that sound so smart and important and some people dress really well and some people seem like they don’t have anything good about them at all, but Brittany knows that if she looks a little closer, digs under their clothes and beneath their skin and into what makes them whimper and sweat and cry out when she finds just the right way to touch them, she can see the good in them. It just takes a little work.
And Brittany has never minded the work. It’s a lot of fun, and more often than not, it makes her feel just as good.
Brittany has looked for the good in a lot of people - a hundred and six at last count, but she’s never been very good at counting - but she has an absolute favorite. It seems unfair to say that out loud, given everybody else she’s played with, so she never does.
But Santana? She’s the best.
Santana is the best because she isn’t exactly like anyone else, and because she’s always a little bit different - sometimes her neck arches back, mouth open, gasping deep, and sometimes her head thrashes back and forth as her nails dig into Brittany’s shoulders, and sometimes they dig into Brittany’s hips while she chants demands for more, more and almost throws herself off the bed and into Brittany’s arms.
Santana is the best because after, she always stays and rests her head against Brittany’s shoulder or hip or presses the length of herself against Brittany’s spine, and sometimes other people do that but they don’t fit like this; every little notch and crook of Santana’s body lining up with Brittany’s like a warm and weighty echo of herself.
So when Santana says it, It’s not like I love you, Brittany is confused and a little upset because she doesn’t understand how she can love someone so much without them feeling the same way.
Oh, Brittany has loved so many people who haven’t loved her back, and that was always okay, but this? Santana is hers, or at least Brittany thought so - hers to love and hers to share with, hers to come home to when things got a little rough, but if Santana doesn’t love her, then who does?
It all comes down to the competition, Brittany decides, and Artie doesn’t have a partner yet and he hasn’t had a partner yet - Brittany has a sense about these things - and maybe she thought he was a robot at first but she never thought he was an unattractive robot even if the idea scared her a little. To imagine him as he is, human and with the voice he has, she can’t resist.
Of course she doesn’t want Mercedes to win if Santana is her partner. Breadsticks was always theirs - Santana only ever took her there as bait for a new partner, but Brittany never minded. In fact, it always seemed like fun. But Brittany knows she isn’t smart, and she knows regardless that if Santana goes to their place with someone else, it doesn’t mean anything good. At least, not like this.
When Brittany practices with Artie, and when she places him on her bed and gives herself to him like so many before him, she doesn’t do it because of Santana, or Mercedes, or Puck who’s in juvie, or for anyone else, but for Artie, because she loves him. Because Brittany loves everyone, and because there are few things Brittany loves more than to see the expression on someone’s face when they feel what she’s giving them for the first time.
Few things, of course, except for the way Santana looks when Brittany is on her back and pressing up until Santana gasps and swears and sinks her fingers into Brittany’s sides where the bruises won’t show under her Cheerios uniform.
Brittany loves Santana, and she loves Artie, and when he tells her that she’s taken something important from him and used it like a worthless, shiny trinket, Brittany doesn’t understand.
Brittany isn’t smart, but it only takes a second for her to realize that Santana told him something that wasn’t true.
She misses Artie, because she loves him and because it hurts that he doesn’t understand, but most of all she misses Santana, because as mean as she is and as much as Brittany and everyone else hates her, Brittany loves her best.
---
Sure, Santana will never admit it; there are a lot of things she'll never admit, especially to herself. It took her forever to accept the fact that she didn't hate glee club, and even longer to force herself to realize that she liked it; maybe even loved it, in a stupid, twisted way. And it took her until the last possible second to tell anyone else about it - Brittany already knew, of course, because as unbearably stupid as Brittany is, Santana will never, ever be able to hide anything from her. Maybe she could if she tried; sure. Why not? But then again, why try?
So yeah, it takes awhile for Santana to admit things, even, and maybe especially, to herself. Maybe it takes a year and some change for her to accept the fact that she likes Noah-fucking-Puckerman a little more than common sense dictates she has any goddamn right to - not that she hasn't laid claim to him long since, and she'll keep him out of Princess Quinn's grubby paws for as long as she can, although she's starting to think it might not be that long until she has to give him up.
Fine, it's not a problem, because Santana always gets what she wants, and if she doesn't it's only because she didn't want it in the first place. So when Brittany starts getting a little sweeter on Santana than on everybody else, it's weird and uncommon and Santana would ask her what the fuck is going on except that Britt would only smile dopishly and pull Santana closer for another kiss, and Santana gets distracted. Anybody would, and who the hell would judge her for it? Nobody, because everybody in the school has fucked Brittany and Santana has a hard time judging them for it, although she'll judge all of them for anything else if given the chance.
But judging anybody is a little hard with Brittany's tongue in her mouth and a hand up her Cheerios skirt - yeah, that skirt gets Santana a lot of play, but whenever Britt comes over, the only place she wants to see that damn thing is flung over the corner of her mirror. Not that not wanting to see the fucking thing anymore keeps Santana's eye out of the mirror, watching herself slide down Britt's long, pale torso and settle between her trembling legs to find the one thing she can't have from Noah-fucking-Puckerman.
Santana can't deny that Puck knows how to treat a lady, but it's only when she has Brittany on her back and a pair of long legs hooked over her shoulders that Santana can feel what it's like to make somebody thrash and writhe and arch up under her grip again and again and again until her own name is pouring from someone's lips in a desperate and almost agonized plea--
There are things Santana probably shouldn't remember during Spanish class, although Mr. Shue is pretty damn hot, if only he'd forget about his ex-wife and his pansy off-and-on-girlfriend for five minutes. Or an hour. Santana wonders if Brittany's as hot for teacher as she is, and the beautiful thing about Brittany is that she's hot for everyone and Santana doesn't even have to ask, just take her by the hand and pull her into bed with the latest willing recipient of their so-called affections.
It's kind of a shame Mr. Shue is so damn uptight. Maybe Britt would be willing to do some playing around next time they hook up. Girl's as bright as a sack of bricks, but she's a surprisingly good actor when it comes down to it.
But Santana doesn't like to admit some things to anyone, not even herself, and when Noah-fucking-Puckerman gets himself thrown in fucking juvie and nobody knows when he'll be out and Santana just wants a little comfort, Britt has to act like they're dating, and that's beyond stupid, because it's not like they hold hands in the hallways and go on nights out and hook up when they're feeling hot and bring home their newest catch for the other to play with and--
…Well, it's not like they ever made an agreement, everything else aside.
So now they're fighting, or at least Britt seems to think they are, and Santana teams up with Mercedes because that bitch has a set of pipes like no other and if Santana can win this thing she can prove to Brittany that they don't need each other and that it's stupid as hell to think they ever did.
And maybe it takes a long time for Santana to admit things to herself that she didn't want anyone to know, including herself, but maybe it kind of fucking hurts to see the hottest piece of ass and sweetest pair of blue eyes and the best friend she's ever had acting like she doesn't even exist.