#...she just... sometimes wonders what it would be like to be in quinn's shoes instead of her own

[purrpickle]

Random Pezberry Thought of the Day #251

Santana’s in a friends with benefits relationship with Quinn, Rachel’s roommate. Getting to know the woman during the times she’s waiting on the blonde or coming out of the bedroom in the morning, Rachel finds her extremely caustic and cocky - something a drunk Quinn has mumbled about how she’s warranted it, due to her performance in bed - but also extremely, despite herself and in rare moments, charming.

[wheresmynaya]

Lost in the Lights Ch.17|Brittana

A/N - And that's a wrap! Thank you for being patient and loving this story enough to leave reviews and even create awesome artwork and gifsets. It's been quite the journey (and ngl I'm kinda glad it's over). I know many of you would love to see this continue, but I've struggled massively just trying to find a satisfying conclusion. I hope this chapter did just that. Maybe I'll do random one-shots in the future, who knows. 

Thanks for sticking with me & I'll see you around!💙

Available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x) & under the cut!

By the time Santana returns to the sidelines where the rest of the Cheerios are gathered, she finds Quinn waiting for her there with this proud look on her face. Knowing Quinn and how long she has been rooting for her and Brittany to finally get together, Santana already has an idea of what she’s about to say.

“I saw that,” Quinn comments slyly.

Santana fights the blush blooming, but it’s hard when she feels like everyone in the entire stadium is looking at her – especially after that kiss.

She really couldn’t help it though.

Similarly to the way she reacted when Brittany suffered that serious hit, Santana was drawn to the girl. Her feet were moving well before her head registered where she was going and this time was no different, but a flash of a camera brings her back down to Earth.

“Yeah, you aren’t the only one,” Santana quips in attempt to mask that uneasy feeling in her stomach.

It’s an unnerving feeling, but there’s no way she’d ever want to take back her actions. Hell, she should’ve kissed Brittany when she asked her to but she was still trying to appease everyone for some reason – she was still trying to play by their rules.

But there’s this odd feeling beneath the surface – a feeling of empowerment, like the bonds have broken and she’s finally been set free.

That was the last time she’ll be playing by their rules, because now she has seen what a kiss like that can do. It doesn’t matter who is watching because the way Brittany lit up, the way it made Santana feel to be just like everyone else celebrating on that field, to share a kiss with someone she loves – she loves – for once: it was magic.

She won’t take it back and she isn’t going to apologize for doing it either.

At some point she has to get used to the idea that people will stare and sometimes they won’t, she just can’t let it phase her because there’s no way she can regress from this. She has to be unapologetically herself and that’s hard, but it’s better than trying to be someone else. She owes it to herself to keep pushing her own boundaries and she owes to Brittany to be brave.

“Way to rock the boat,” Quinn jokes as she gathers her things and stuffs it into her duffle bag, “I’ve never seen someone look so happy. I couldn’t tell if she was more excited about the win or you.”  

Santana relaxes a little and says, “I told her.”

“Told her what?” Quinn quirks a brow but then she connects the dots on her own and her eyes widen, “Wait, you told her? Like you – “

Suddenly Santana can’t stop the smile from forming at the memory, “Yes.”

Apparently, neither can Quinn. She just pulls Santana in for a hug.

Santana laughs at how tightly Quinn’s holding on, “What’s this for?”

“I was going to tease the hell out of you but I’m just so proud,” Quinn replies, “You’ve really come such a long way. It’s about goddamn time!”

“Thanks,” Santana replies and for some odd reason she actually feels a little choked up as Quinn pulls away. She swallows back whatever that is and adds, “I didn’t even plan on telling her until I was saying it. It just felt right though, I said it and then wondered why it took me so long to tell her in the first place.”

“You’re always a little late to the party,” Quinn teases and Santana swats her arm for that. Quinn only laughs, “What? It’s true!”

Santana snorts, “Well, my dad’s probably losing his shit right about now.”

“That would explain why he’s not with your mom,” Quinn comments with a nod over Santana’s shoulder.

They both look over to where Santana’s mom is speaking with Whitney and Pete. From where Santana’s standing, the conversation between the families looks like it’s going pretty well. She wouldn’t expect anything less, especially if her dad isn’t involved. She knows after the stunt she pulled, he’ll have something to say which is why he probably left – so they can deal with this privately.  

“Great,” Santana grumbles, “Just what I need.”

“Your mom’s still here so that’s a plus. Right?”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

Quinn lets out a tired sigh and Santana does the same.

Instead of making a move, Santana glances back over to Brittany. She can see the blonde talking excitedly with the recruiter from Ohio State and Santana swells with pride. After a great game like that, she’s hoping that guy is offering Brittany everything she wants and then some.

If anyone deserves it, it’s Brittany.

“You want me to go with you?” Quinn offers and nods in the direction of Santana and Brittany’s families, “They’re calling you over.”

Santana takes a deep breath, “That’s okay. I’ll go.”

“Okay,” Quinn gives her an encouraging smile, “I’ll see you at Puck’s?”

“Hopefully,” Santana nods before slinging on her duffle and joining her mom.

\\

“Hi Mrs. Pierce,” Santana greets politely before smiling down at Brittany’s brother, “Hey Petey

“What an amazing performance,” Whitney compliments her.

Santana smiles bashfully, “Thank you.”

“I didn’t realize this school had so many talented teams!” Whitney says.

“Oh no, it’s just been the Cheerios for years,” Santana replies with a chuckle, “The Titans actually being good is all thanks to Brittany.”

Whitney gives her a knowing smile before Pete excitedly interrupts.

“Santana!” He shrieks, “I didn’t know you could fly! It was so cool!”

Santana gives him a curious look before he goes on and on about how awesome Santana was during the Cheerios half time performance.

“Oh, you mean when they threw me in the air?” Santana clarifies. Pete nods with a toothy grin and it makes Santana laugh, “That was more like falling with style.”

Pete’s draw drops, “Like Buzz Lightyear?”

Santana smirks, “Exactly.”

Pete matches her expression, “Super cool.”

She knows he’s only a kid but the praise makes her feel pretty good about herself and the proud smiles Whitney and Maribel wear only add to that feeling.

If only her dad was there to offer some type of praise of his own.

“So where’s Papi?” Santana asks Maribel.

She instantly feels the vibe change at his mention. Whitney must feel it too and starts to look for an out of the conversation.

“Well, we better go see Brittany,” She says, “I think she might be finished with that recruiter now.”

“Let’s go!” Pete tugs on Whitney’s sleeve, “Bye Santana! Bye Miss Maribel!”

Maribel chuckles as she joins Santana in waving goodbye to them. Her expression falters just a little as she turns back to Santana, “Your dad had to leave right away. There was some paperwork that he needed to – “

“It’s okay,” Santana interrupts, “You don’t need to make up an excuse for him. I know he’s angry with me for causing another scene or whatever.”

Maribel sighs, “It’s not that, mija.”

“No? Then what is it?”

Maribel gives her daughter that look that says watch that attitude. Santana softens but still crosses her arms over her chest. Honestly, she doesn’t know why she expected anything different from her dad. Of course he’d react so dramatically and of course she’d be left in the wake of it all feeling like absolute shit.

“How many times did I say talk to him?” Maribel asks, “How many times did I say the sooner the better? How do you think he’d react when he found out you have been keeping things from him? You’ve harbored them until they’ve built up and now there’s a mountain where there used to be a molehill.”

Santana scuffs her tennis shoe at the turf. She can feel that empowered feeling from earlier fleeting but instead of feeling sorry for herself, she laughs bitterly.

“What?” She huffs, “He’s mad because I didn’t tell him about me and Brittany?”

“No mija,” Maribel sighs, “He’s hurt.”

Santana’s eyes widen at that, “He’s… How? He hasn’t exactly been too keen to know about my love life so why would I bother now?”

“Santana, it’s more than that. Like I have been telling you all this time,” Maribel replies, “You need to talk to him.”

Santana sucks in an aggravated deep breath, “Why does this fall on me?”

Maribel softens, “This is your life, mija, what you have to say needs to come from you if you want things to change.”

Santana frowns at that, but Maribel continues.

“He’s still your dad and you might not think so but he wants to be included in your life. He just doesn’t know how to do that anymore,” Maribel adds, “You’ve both been butting heads for so long that neither of you know how to act around each other.”

Santana grits her teeth and looks away, but Maribel reaches for her.

“At some point, a parent realizes that they might not know all the answers. You have to teach him, Santana,” Maribel explains, “You have to give him a chance to get to know the real you and not the person you think he wants you to be. You have to give him the same opportunity that you’ve given me otherwise this is what your relationship will be: you both hurting each other without ever speaking about it.”

Santana relaxes because her mom makes a good point. There’s just so much to work through and Santana’s scared that if she does give him a chance then he’ll only hurt her all over again. But a little part of her thinks about Brittany and what wise words she’d have for her.

“You have to at least try, right?”

Santana sighs because even when she isn’t there, Brittany’s always like her guiding light, her beacon of hope, her rock.

“Okay,” Santana finally says, “I’ll talk to him.”

Maribel smiles as she wraps her arm around Santana’s shoulders and kisses her temple, “It’ll be fine.”

Santana only nods, hoping that she’s right.

\\

When Santana and Maribel return home, Santana skips changing out of her uniform in favor of going straight to her dad. She figures her uniform has always felt like armor so it only makes sense that she continues to wear it now when she feels the most vulnerable.

As she knocks at Hector’s office door and is called in, she feels like she’s about to see Principal Figgins – except this is much worse. Hector is at his desk and his brows are pushed together in hard concentration as reads the computer screen in front of him.

That stops when Santana takes a seat in the arm chair by the book shelf. It’s the farthest she can be from her dad and it’s also the closest seat to the door incase she needs to make a run for it.

Ridiculous, but necessary – maybe. She has hope, but it has been misplaced before.

Hector turns off the computer screen but is slow to make eye contact with Santana. It’s nothing new to her though and they plummet into a heavy silence. She tries to put on a brave face like always, but she doesn’t think this time will be like the others.

It can’t be like the others. Something has to give.

She sits there in the leather arm chair feeling the smallest she’s ever felt because above her are framed diplomas from Harvard in these ornate frames and they stare down at her like they know every one of her dirty little secrets.

It makes her want to run and hide.

It makes her want to abandon this whole idea, but the beginning of the truth has reared its ugly head and there’s no turning back now – she can do nothing but face the inevitable.

In a sudden burst of confidence or courage or stupidity, Santana finally rips the band aid off and says what comes to mind first, addressing the biggest elephant in the room.

“I don’t want to go to Harvard.”

The words leave her lips for a second time and it’s a relief to say them again – especially to her dad – but now she feels suspended in midair like she’s waiting to either be caught or slam to the ground.

When Hector doesn’t say anything it makes the wait feel even worse.

He just sits there with his eyes focused on his desk, unmoving and unreadable. It’s like Santana’s looking in a mirror and it’s enough to push her to be different, to be better, to learn from his missteps so she doesn’t fall into the same cycle. She feels the familiar need to apologize worming its way up, but she swallows it back because what does she have to be sorry for? She’s finally being honest for once, why would she try to hide that?

Hector shifts in his seat and utters his first words, “Since when?”

Santana threads her fingers together in her lap and shrugs, “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to go there.”

“But, we’ve talked about this for so long?” Hector replies looking shocked, “Harvard is your dream school.”

Santana shakes her head, “We’ve never talked about it. You and Abuelo just assumed that’s where I would go and you planned accordingly. I guess it’s also on me though, because I didn’t want to let either of you down. I didn’t want to be the one to break tradition, but Harvard…it isn’t my dream school.”

“Oh,” Hector breathes out and it’s the most dejected sound Santana’s ever heard.

“I should’ve said something sooner,” Santana mumbles.

Hector continues to try and piece things together, “Can I ask what changed?”

Santana has thought about the answer to this particular question for so long and she has yet to come up with anything straight forward. It’s more like a feeling that she can’t really explain and she doubts her dad would understand that.

Her dad is someone who doesn’t deviate from tradition, like ever. Hector does what is expected of him and follows every social cue on the planet, never being one to rock the boat. For awhile, Santana was like that too but then everything with Bree and Dani happened – she couldn’t really follow the status quo anymore.

As much as she hated that time of her life, if it didn’t happen where would she be today? Still in the closet? Still trying to pretend to be someone she isn’t? She can’t keep living her life by trying to please everyone else, it just makes her feel miserable.

“I just…I don’t think it’s the place for me,” Santana answers instead.

“But you,” Hector pauses to knead his forehead, “This doesn’t make any sense. Do you even want to be a doctor anymore?”

Santana sighs, “Of course I do. I still want to help people, I just don’t want to follow your exact footsteps. I want to go my own way.”

Hector nods like everything’s starting to sink in, “You’ve never been interested in going anywhere else. You can understand why this is a shock to me.”

“Honestly, I didn’t think I had a choice,” Santana replies, “Especially after everything that happened last year. I just wanted to make you proud of me again, but I don’t think that’s going to happen anytime soon. I might as well do things for me now.”

“Wait,” Hector finally looks to Santana, “You don’t think I’m proud of you?”

Santana shrugs, but she finally sees the hurt look in his eyes and it confuses her.

“Santana, that’s…,” Hector shakes his head, “That’s not true.”

Santana lets out a dry chuckle, “Let’s be honest, you haven’t been proud of me since Bree and JBI posted that stupid video. Since then, you can barely be in the same room as me.”

Hector doesn’t say a word, just listens.

“It was never my intention to ruin everything,” Santana admits and she starts to feel that familiar lump form in her throat but there’s no stopping the truth from escaping now, “I’ve tried so hard for so long to be the perfect daughter, but I’m tired of spinning my wheels for nothing. I make good grades, I’m Co-Captain of the Cheerios and I stay out of trouble…most of the time. I think that’s pretty good considering I was outed to the whole damn town. Everywhere I went, there was always someone commenting on my life. There was also someone staring at me, someone whispering about how sinful my behavior was. Aside from Quinn, I was completely alone for so long. I could’ve gone batshit crazy but I didn’t. I put my head down and tried to do everything I could to be someone you were proud of, to get back into your good graces.”

Hector continues to listen silently, but his lack of response puts Santana on edge.

“Clearly, I haven’t been done a very good job,” Santana huffs in attempt to mask her hurt, “I’ve hated how we’ve grown apart this past year, but I shouldn’t be the only one trying to fix things. Especially since I’ve been bending over backwards to redeem myself for what happened. You shunned me and yet I was still trying to please you. I’m not doing that anymore – I can’t go back to the way things were before, I just can’t.”

Hector clears his throat and asks, “Before what?”

“God, before I told you that I’m gay!” Santana responds. She surprises herself by how confidently she said those words so much so that she says them again, “I’m gay, Papi, and I’m tired of it being another thing that we don’t talk about. I’m tired of walking on eggshells around you. I’m tired of trying to make all this progress then come home to you taking it all away. I’m tired of you making me feel so inadequate.”

Hector’s shoulder drop as he slumps back in his chair like Santana just dealt him the hardest hit.

“I don’t expect you to go waving around a rainbow flag or offer to take me to my first Pride festival but you’re going to have to acknowledge it because that’s a part of who I am,” Santana continues, “I know it’s not what you wanted, but I can’t pretend anymore. I can’t keep doing things to please everyone else. This is me and I’m not going to apologize for it.”

She doesn’t realize she has said nearly the exact same words she once did to her Abuela before she was shut out and it makes her heart clench painfully. She had felt so small in her Abuela’s kitchen when she uttered those words last time, but now? This is her standing up for herself, this is her taking back her life and her dad can either support her or step aside.

“I’m gay, Papi,” Santana says with a sort of finality, “And I have this amazing girlfriend that I love who just wants me to be me. You know how long I’ve waited for someone like that, someone who just…accepts me?” Santana bats away her tears, “I thought I’d have to leave this shitty town just to finally feel like myself but Brittany made me realize that I don’t have to do that. I don’t have to bend for anyone.”

Santana she feels like a bottle rocket about to set flight after finally laying it all out there like that, but she takes a calming breath and speaks directly from her heart.

“I’m gay and I’m not going to Harvard,” Santana says with confidence, “You either learn to accept that so we can all move on or you stay stuck like this – like Abuela – and we just won’t have a relationship anymore.”

Hector tenses his jaw at that and he actually looks a little hurt, but Santana has been hurt too by his words and lack thereof. She’s not going to tip toe anymore, she’s going to say how she feels when she feels it starting right now.

“Is that what you want?” Santana presses with tears streaming down her face, “Because I don’t. I don’t want to lose my dad because of a stupid legacy or something beyond my control. You think I wanted to be gay? You think I wanted to make my life harder than it already has been?”

“Santana stop,” Hector finally speaks, his voice soft yet unwavering. Santana’s chest heaves and her eyes blur with more tears as Hectors adds, “That’s not my intention either. You aren’t going to lose me and I don’t want lose you.”

Santana tries to calm herself down by taking slow inhales and it makes Hector look to his daughter guiltily. Her thoughts are a scattered mess but despite being scared as hell it feels pretty good to get these things off of her chest.

“I’m so sorry,” He says. His lips part but the words struggle to form. It almost looks like he’s tearing up too which Santana has rarely seen.

“I’m trying – I’m trying to find the right words to say,” He admits, “I grew up very differently than you so these kind of conversations don’t come easy for me. Your Abuelo and Abuela weren’t easy to talk to as you can imagine. We didn’t speak about our feelings or what hurts us. We just put our heads down and ignored them until we thought they went away.”

“Well my feelings aren’t going to be ignored,” Santana says firmly.

“I know,” Hector reasons, “I know. I just want you to know where I’m coming from too. I would never go against your Abuela or Abuelo like this. I’d fall in line because that’s what I’ve always known, but that doesn’t mean I’ve never disagreed with them. I have, but I’m not brave like you – I never spoke up.”

Santana nods as she bats away her tears.

“You know I’m old school. The importance of family and reputation were ingrained in me a long time ago – same as keeping your opinions and feelings to yourself – and I’ve continued that with you when I shouldn’t have. I could see that it was wrong but I did nothing to stop it because of that I have rarely done things for me,” Hector adds, “But you aren’t like that. You have your own voice and – unlike me – you actually use it.”

Not as often as I’d like to, Santana thinks.

“To be honest,” Hector says, “That’s something I admire the most about you.”

Santana looks confused, “Really?”

“Of course,” Hector nods, “You’re doing something I’ve never had the courage to do growing up. I should’ve done a better job encouraging it, even if we don’t always agree.”

Santana blinks away her tears, “That’s just…not the impression I’ve gotten. You’ve been so distant and pushing Harvard on me for so long and then what you said to Brittany about having options? That has never been a thing for me, my future has always felt like it has been planned without my input.”

“Because I thought Harvard was what you wanted,” Hector replies, “You never said anything otherwise so I just assumed you had your heart set on that school. I love you, Santana, and I’ve always wanted what was best for you. If you wanted Harvard, I’d do everything I can to get you there – even if that means giving you some tough love.”

Santana just shakes her head, “I can’t believe this.”

“I’m sorry that I haven’t been approachable,” Hector responds earnestly, “I’m sorry for making you think that I’m not proud of you or that I don’t support you because I do. I’m just not very good at showing it. You being gay, sure it caught me by surprise but I’m not like your Abuela. It’s new to me and I don’t know the right things to say most of the time but I do want to learn. I would never love you any less because of it.”

Tears stream freely down Santana’s cheeks and Hector quickly closes the distance between them. He wipes away Santana’s tears with his thumbs and holds her face gently in his hands as he continues to speak.

“You are still my girl, Santana, no matter who you love or what college you want to go to,” Hector says through a smile, “I’m sorry I ever made you think otherwise.”

Santana can’t help but throw herself into her dad’s arms. She’s tried to be tough, tried to have this hard exterior and pretend that their rocky relationship didn’t phase her too much, but it did. To finally be able to hug him again, to have this kind of reassurance means everything to her.

Hector holds her tightly; it’s the first time they’ve hugged in nearly a year.  

“I want to be included in your life. To see you out there after the game tonight with Brittany, you both looking so happy, it made me feel like I was missing something. You know?” Hector sighs as he pulls away. He sits back on his knees and stares at the young woman Santana’s becoming, “I’ve never seen you that happy with any of the boys you’ve brought home and I started to understand a little more but it hurt at the same time. It hurt because I had to learn of your relationship rather than you feeling comfortable enough to tell me on your own. I don’t want it to be like that, I don’t want to miss anything.”

Santana nods, feeling similarly. She just wants their relationship to be as close as it was before. Actually, no. She wants it to be better and she thinks after a conversation like this that maybe that’s a possibility. Maybe they can actually grow from this?

“I don’t want our relationship to be like mine and your Abuelo’s was. I want you to talk to me, to tell me what’s on your mind,” Hector says softly as he brushes through Santana’s hair with his hand, “You and I…we’re a lot alike when it comes to this talking stuff. You’re a lot better at it than I am, so I’m going to need your help.”

“Okay,” Santana mumbles through her smile. “I can do that.”

“Okay,” Hector agrees before going to take a steadying breath. He chuckles to himself as he rises from the hardwood floors and takes a seat on the foot rest next to Santana.

There’s a change in the air and Santana’s so grateful for it. There’s a familiar warmth again that has been missing and suddenly the walls don’t feel like they’re closing in on her. The office doesn’t feel so cold and uninviting, because Hector is there softly smiling at her.

“What?” Santana wonders with a nervous laugh.

Hectors shakes his head and shrugs, “I want to know so much but I don’t know where to begin. I have a lot to catch up on I think.”

Santana nods. She can faintly hear her mom’s voice in her head reminding her to give Hector the same opportunities she gave Maribel in regards to inviting him in to get to know the real her.

So she tries it out and asks, “What do you want to know?”

“Well,” Hector scratches at his stubbled chin in thought, “I guess if Harvard’s out, where are you thinking now? College is still a must in this family after all.”

Santana catches him wink and she knows that this is meant to be a less serious conversation than the one before. It’s a good feeling to know that she and Hector are on the same page now and that she doesn’t have to harbor this secret any longer – the weight has been lifted.

“I’ve been working on that,” Santana tells him, “Miss Pillsbury says I could go anywhere I want but I’m keeping my options open for now. I just want to be certain before I make my decision.”

“Smart,” Hector replies, “And I’m assuming you won’t want to follow me into dermatology?”

“Definitely not,” Santana scrunches her nose and it makes Hector laugh, “I’ve actually been doing some research on Sports Medicine programs. With my background with the Cheerios and being so close to all kinds of games, I kind of like still being apart of the action on the sidelines…just in a different uniform.”

“As long as you’re sticking to medical I’m happy,” Hector jokes before asking, “And what about Brittany? Has she decided where she will go yet?”

Santana relaxes more, loving how easily they’re able to talk now, “She was speaking to a recruiter from Ohio State after the game tonight, but with her talent she could go anywhere too.”

“That sounds promising,” Hector replies, “She is very talented and what a great game! I’m sure that recruiter was very impressed with her.”

“Yeah,” Santana swells with pride, “She was amazing out there.”

“Speaking of,” Hector starts to smirk, “You said love before, that’s pretty big.”

Santana feels her heart skip a beat as she looks up at her dad, “It’s a relatively new thing.”

“Is it?” Hector asks, “I could sort of suspect something was going on with how protective you were being when she had lunch with us awhile back, but I wasn’t certain. You sometimes act the same way with Quinn so I didn’t want to assume.”

Santana blushes, “I didn’t realize I did that.”

“You’re a Lopez,” Hector says proudly, “We’re protective of who we love.”

“Oh,” Santana starts to blush, “I’ve never met anyone like her before. She makes me want to be the best version of myself. When I’m with Brittany I finally understand what people are talking about when they talk about love. I just hope she feels the same way.”

“You’re not sure?” Hector asks.

Santana pauses to wonder: Is she really unsure?

She has often heard the saying actions speak louder than words and if that’s true then Brittany’s speak loud and clear. She’s been patient with Santana’s journey even if she took the long way around, she challenges her when necessary but she’s never forceful. She checks Santana when she needs to be checked, but she also cares for her like no one else has.

She’s no expert, but that sounds a lot like love to her.

“I mean, think I might have an idea,” Santana says, “But it’d be nice to hear it from her.”

Hector smiles, “I’m glad you’ve found each other.”

“That’s part of the reason why I want to keep my options open for now,” Santana explains, “Maybe that’s a little crazy since we haven’t been together for long, but I don’t know. I want to at least stay close. We haven’t actually talked too much about what we’ll do after graduation.”

Hector hums through his knowing smile, “You’ll figure it out together. I hear Ohio State has a pretty good Sports Medicine program. One of the best in the country, actually.”

Santana gives him a grin, “I know.”

\\

When Santana leaves Hector’s office a moment later, she’s never felt so light. It actually feels like a weight has been lifted and she’s so happy that the conversation turned out a whole lot better than the one she had with her Abuela. There’s still a lot to repair, but at least they’re on the right track now. At least there’s hope of turning the relationship around, because Santana hated the idea of going on about life without having her dad around.

After everything that happened tonight, after everyone saw her and Brittany together, at least she has one more person in her corner to support her.

\\\\\

Brittany stands in Puck’s kitchen with her back against the wall and a red solo cup in her hand. Mike and Sam talk excitedly about highlights of the game for the hundredth time, but Brittany can’t seem to focus long enough to be apart of the conversation. She just nods mindlessly and laughs when they do, but her head is elsewhere.

Anytime the front door opens, her eyes dart to it hoping that it’s Santana but it never is.

As Sam goes on to re-tell the final play of the game, Brittany fishes out her phone to check if she has any new messages. She frowns when all she sees is the time and the lock screen background of her and Santana from the Homecoming dance.

No new messages. No missed calls.

As the minutes tick by and the house gets more and more crowded, Brittany’s desire to be there dwindles. She can’t celebrate yet, not without her girl, it just doesn’t feel quite right. She recalls Santana mentioning being grounded forever when they spoke at the game and Brittany hopes that isn’t the case – especially with how they ended things.

There’s still so much she wants to say and the longer she holds it in, the more she feels like she’s going to pop like a balloon. She should’ve just said it then and there. Who cares if she makes Beiste and Cooter wait? Making sure that Santana knows she’s loved is important too.

She lets out a heavy sigh before taking a sip of her drink, but the sound grabs Mike’s attention.

He looks curiously at her and asks, “Have you tried calling?”

Brittany blinks out of her thoughts, “Huh?”

“Santana,” He clarifies knowingly, “I know that’s why you’re looking so grumpy. Have you tried calling her?”

“Oh,” Brittany stares into her cup, “No, I haven’t. She said she had something to deal with after the game so I don’t want to interrupt. I just hope she isn’t in trouble or anything.”

“Why would she be in trouble?” He asks.

Brittany shrugs, “Don’t know. Just a feeling, I guess?”

Mike nods, “Well Quinn isn’t here yet either and they’re meant to be getting ready together. Maybe they’re just taking longer than usual?”

Brittany takes a calming breath, “Yeah, maybe.”

\\

Brittany tries to enjoy herself, or at least look a little more interested in the conversation taking place around her. If she spends the time trying to guess what’s happening with Santana, she’ll only ruin everyone else’s time with her worrying. Mike’s probably right anyway about Santana and Quinn taking a long time so there’s no use in getting worked up over it.

However, it doesn’t help that five minutes later Quinn breezes in through the door alone.

Brittany watches as the Co-Captain makes her way through the living room crowded with dancing partygoers, waving at fellow Cheerios as she goes. Her eyes dart back to the door, wondering if Santana is only a few steps behind but it remains closed.

Once Quinn makes her way over to where Brittany, Mike and Sam have been talking, she looks around confusedly.

“Is Santana here?” Quinn asks Brittany.

Brittany frowns, “No, I thought she was with you?”

Quinn shakes her head, “She wasn’t answering my texts so I got ready on my own. I thought you two might be together already.”

Brittany bites her lip, trying to keep that sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach at bay. She doesn’t want to read too much into everything, but she remembers the look on Hector’s face after Santana kissed her on the field. Brittany knows their history and it puts her on edge. She tries valiantly to keep the pestering questions stacking up in her head at bay but it’s hard when Santana isn’t around to explain.

“I’m sure she’s not too far behind,” Quinn adds reassuringly, “She probably has her phone on silent still. Coach makes us do that during games so no one is distracted by a notification.”

Brittany nods, but she’s still not convinced.

\\

Brittany lasts another ten minutes before she’s had enough of the waiting game. She’s putting down her cup on the counter and grabbing her discarded letterman jacket.

“Where you off to?” Mike asks.

“I’m going to check on her,” Brittany states to her friends as she shrugs it on, “Something feels off.”

“Britt, you’ve been drinking,” Sam points out.

“I’ll walk,” Brittany replies quickly, “I don’t have my car here anyway.”

“Do you want us to come?” Mike asks and Quinn nods too.  

“Let me try her again?” Quinn offers as she gets out her phone, “She does take forever to get ready though so I wouldn’t be too worried, Britt.”

Brittany nods, but she’s passed thinking this is only about how long it takes Santana to get ready. She keeps thinking back to Santana’s cryptic words at the game and it makes her feel uneasy.

If Santana’s being punished for that kiss or something ridiculous then Brittany wants to know for sure and she wants to be the one to give Santana’s dad a piece of her mind. Out of everything Santana’s gone through, he can’t take this away from her too – no one can.

“I’m just going to go to her house,” Brittany tells them, “I’ll let you know when I see her.”

She doesn’t give them much room to argue, just leaves the kitchen and heads for the front door. The living room is packed with the usual crowd and once Brittany starts to weave through them, they try pulling her onto the makeshift dancefloor. Familiar voices call out her name and Puck’s in the center of it all pumping his fist to the beat, but stops when he finds Brittany.

“Bout time, Pierce! I was wondering when you were going to tear up the dancefloor,” Puck cheers, “Where’s your drink?”

Brittany nods to the door, “I’ve got to go.”

Puck frowns, “Leaving? Already? The party’s just getting started!”

“I’ll be back,” Brittany assures him, “I’m only getting Santana.”

“Ah right,” Puck smirks before patting Brittany on the shoulder, “I mean, seeing you two after the game…if you guys ever need a third, I’m – ”

“Not interested,” Brittany says before narrowing her eyes at him.

“Woah!” Puck laughs, not really seeing that he’s crossed a line, “I didn’t even say what I was going to say.”

“I don’t need to hear it,” Brittany states, “Don’t make a comment like that about us to me or Santana again. Next time, I won’t be so polite.”

Puck instantly backs off, “Yo, chill! I thought it was a compliment?”

“Really?” Brittany grits her teeth, “You douse yourself in cologne after practice rather than taking an actual shower. So on personal hygiene alone, I don’t think any girl would think your offer was a compliment.”

“Damn, okay! My bad!” Puck says with his pride hurt, “Don’t gotta be so mean.”

Suddenly Kurt appears next to her with Tina and Mercedes flanking him. She’s surprised to see them there, she must’ve been so caught up in worrying over Santana that she didn’t see them there on the dancefloor.

“You okay, Britt?” Kurt asks, looking between the too curiously.

Brittany only glares at Puck one last time before shifting to Kurt, “I’m good. Glad to see you guys here.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Kurt assures her then glances to Puck, “Especially since Puck graciously opened up the invite to everyone not just the high society.”

“So kind of him,” Mercedes comments sarcastically.

“See, Puckerman? Being a decent guy isn’t so hard,” Brittany adds and waits expectantly for a smart ass comment from Puck.

Surprisingly, Puck looks between everyone and decides he’s outnumbered. With a sigh he waves them all off, “Yeah, yeah. Enjoy yourselves.”

As he disappears back into the sea of dancers, Kurt turns to Brittany and quirks his brow.

“Surely you aren’t leaving already?” He asks, “The night is young.”

“Yeah Britt,” Tina adds, “You’ll have to dance with us!”

“At least one song,” Mercedes says.

“I will,” Brittany assures them, “I just – I’ll be right back. I need to take care of something first.”

Kurt looks a little unsure but it isn’t his place to meddle, so he just shrugs and bids Brittany a goodbye for now. Brittany gives her friends a last reassuring smile before returning to her mission of finding Santana.

\\

The mission ends up being short lived because as soon as Brittany swings open the front door she finds exactly who she’s been missing: Santana. It looks like Brittany caught her in mid-pace and there’s this surprised look on Santana’s face, but it softens when she sees who is staring back.

“Santana,” Brittany breathes out as she takes in the sight of her girlfriend, “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Hey Britt,” Santana replies meekly, “Sorry I’m so late.”

Although there’s a small smile playing on Santana’s lips, something feels a little off. There’s a strange heaviness in the air and Brittany isn’t sure if it’s because she has spent the last hour wondering where Santana was and now all of a sudden she’s standing in front of her. She should feel relieved, except instead it feels like she’s holding her breath – but why?

“That’s alright,” Brittany responds with a shrug, “I was only getting a tiny bit worried, but you’re here now.”

“Yeah,” Santana starts to play with her fingers and that’s all the confirmation Brittany needs.

Something’s definitely up.

She closes the door behind her in hopes that it’ll muffle the loud music playing inside and give them some privacy before returning to the party. It’s such a contrast from once being surrounded by friends and music with a drink in her hand just a few minutes ago to now being alone with Santana in the eerie quiet. The only sounds are the muffled bass and the pounding of Brittany’s heart in her ears.

She doesn’t know why she feels suddenly nervous standing there, or why her palms are beginning to sweat, but she tries to shake it off. It’s only Santana, there’s nothing to be nervous about.

“What are you doing out here by yourself?” Brittany asks, filling the silence, “The party’s inside.”

“I know,” Santana says shyly.

Brittany takes a step closer, “Is everything okay?”

Santana nods, “Yeah. I was just trying to find the courage, I guess, to go in on my own.”

“The courage?”

Santana squeezes her hands together, “Things are changing. Well, thing’s have been changing for awhile now.”

Brittany tilts her head to the side, unsure of where this is going.

Santana softens, “You know, on my way over here JBI sent me a link of his latest episode?”

Brittany bites her lip, “He did?”

“Yeah,” Santana shifts from side to side, “I didn’t watch it, obviously, but I can probably guess what it’s about.”

Brittany looks down at the space between them. Of course someone would find a way to ruin this moment for them, of course they couldn’t just be like everyone else. She’s trying to find the right words to say or some type of solution to all of this, but Santana only lets out a quiet chuckle.

“I’m guessing everyone knows about us now, even if they weren’t at the game,” Santana continues, “And I’m sure there will be talks and looks because you know this damn town loves to gossip.”  

Brittany nods. Even if she wasn’t here for everything that happened to Santana last year, she feels like maybe this is history repeating itself.

“But you know what?” Santana asks.

“What?”

“I don’t think I care about what they’ll have to say,” Santana says confidently, “Actually, I know I won’t because once I go through that door it’ll mark the beginning of something new.”

“Oh,” Brittany gives Santana a hopeful smile because she wasn’t expecting that kind of answer, “That’s a good thing, right?”

“Of course,” Santana answers, “I know that once I go in there I don’t need to pretend to be someone I’m not anymore. I don’t have anything to hide. I couldn’t care less about what’ll happen to my reputation because I don’t really give a damn about what these people think of me. I can’t believe how long it has taken me to realize that, but I just want to be myself for a change and have a good time with my girlfriend.”

Brittany’s breath hitches at the sound of Santana being so sure of herself. She really has come such a long way and Brittany feels so grateful to have witnessed her journey.

“But I’m still standing out here because I feel like this is a moment,” Santana adds, “I feel like it’s a big moment before everything changes and I wanted to make sure I was ready.”

Brittany silently reaches for Santana’s hand to hold as if to say I’m here for you too.

“And as much of a relief it is to be able to do that now, to be open and sure of who I am, I’m still working on it. It still takes me a second to muster the courage first,” Santana explains.

Brittany nods in understanding, still quietly listening to every word.

“Maybe in the future it won’t take as long,” Santana says, “Maybe I won’t even have to pause, it’ll just come second nature? But right here, right now, I’m not quite there yet. I still have to take a moment because…this is big.”

Brittany stares back adoringly before she’s taking a step closer until she can pull Santana in for a kiss. It’s their first one since being on the field and it’s like coming home.

“You’re so brave, Santana,” Brittany tells her, “One of the bravest I’ve ever met.”

Santana blushes, “Says you.”

“No seriously. I’ve got nothing on you,” Brittany teases before tugging Santana in for a hug. She kisses the top of Santana’s head and inhales the sweet smelling shampoo as smiles, “I’m so proud of you. It might be a big moment, but we can do this together. You and I, we’re in this together. We can stay out here for as long as you like. Whatever you want to do.”

“Thanks,” Santana grins up at her before leaning back, “How's the elbow? I see they didn’t put you in a sling.”

Brittany only shrugs as she glances to it, “It’s a little bruised but it doesn't hurt that bad. I actually forgot all about it.”

“Oh really?” Santana pokes at it lightly, “No tenderness?”

Brittany tries to stifle her groan, “Mm-mm.”

Santana smirks, “Not sure if I believe you.”

Brittany chuckles and tries to flirt, “Feel free to examine me yourself, Doc,”

“Maybe later,” Santana winks before nodding over to the bench off to the side, “Can we sit?”

Brittany nods and lets Santana lead the way. It’s only a few steps away, but once they sit they sink into each other’s sides so comfortably. Brittany doesn’t even mind the cold, not when Santana’s pressed against her – it’s like the warmest she’s ever been.

“I spoke to my dad,” Santana mentions after a pause.

“Oh?” Brittany’s brows rise, “Is that what you were talking about at the game?”

Santana nods, “Yeah. That’s why I was so late and couldn’t return your texts.”

“So,” Brittany presses, “How’d it go? I’m guessing you aren’t grounded for the rest of your life if you’re here or did you sneak out?”

Santana chuckles, “I’m not grounded, no. It went surprisingly well, I think. I finally told him about not wanting to go to Harvard.”

“And how’d he take that?”

“Fine. It was mostly all just a big miscommunication, but once we got to talking about it everything was fine,” Santana answers, “It’s kind of silly how long I put it off because I was so afraid of letting him down. I probably should've said something a lot sooner.”

Brittany nods as she cuddles Santana closer, “But its okay because you got there in the end.”

“True,” Santana smiles up at her, “We actually talked about you too.”

“Me?”

“Mhmm,” Santana hums.

“What’d you say?”

Santana shrugs coyly, “Just stuff.”

Brittany narrows her eyes and it makes Santana giggle.

“Nothing bad,” Santana amends, “I promise.”

Brittany pretends to look unconvinced but she soon relents after Santana presses a kiss to her cheek. Who could stand their ground after that, especially when Santana’s cheeks are cutely bunched as she bats her long lashes.

“Alright,” Brittany laughs, “Well…I’m glad everything worked out between you and your dad. I’m sure you feel way better after telling him the truth about Harvard too.”

“Yeah,” Santana replies, “There’s still some work to be done, but we’re in a lot better place now. I think things are looking up for us now.”

“That’s so good!” Brittany beams, “I’m happy for you.”

“Yeah,” Santana sighs as she looks up at Brittany affectionately, “I don't know what I would've done without you.”

“I am pretty awesome, huh?” Brittany jokes despite her cheeks flushing from the compliment.

“Don't make me take it back,” Santana chuckles, “But seriously, I don’t see this year turning out the same way it did if you hadn’t moved here.”

“Hey, I needed you just as much as you needed me,” Brittany assures her, “This year wouldn’t have been the same without you either. With everything that happened at the beginning of the year: losing my dad, moving away from the place I’ve lived all my life, feeling like I had to start over. I needed you too. You’re something else, Santana.”

Santana only blushes before the front door is suddenly swung open and their peaceful little bubble is popped.

“There you two are!” Quinn sighs as Mike pokes his head out behind her, “So much for letting us know you found her, Britt.”

Brittany gives her an apologetic look, “Sorry. We started talking.”

Quinn looks between the two and it’s like she’s seeing something there that doesn’t need to be said. She smiles and relaxes upon what she finds.

“Well, you guys coming in or what?” She asks.

“The beer pong table is calling you, Cap,” Mike adds while Quinn rolls her eyes.

“Sam’s apparently started taking bets for this rematch between you and I,” Quinn explains and looks to Santana, “Your girl here thinks she’s the reigning Champ, Lopez, but as I recall she was dethroned last time by me.”

Santana laughs at that and looks to Brittany, “Oh really now?”

Brittany recalls how distracted she was last time – mostly Santana’s fault – and shakes her head, “The last game was a stroke of luck on your part, Fabray. It won’t be happening again.”

Quinn grins at that, “Well let’s see it then.”

Santana looks back at Brittany and whispers to her, “Is it bad that I’m weirdly turned on right now?”

Brittany’s eyes go wide at that, “Okay that isn’t going to help me stay focused, babe.”

“Did you guys find them?” Sam can be heard asking before he appears in the doorway, “Britt! You’ve got to play, the pot is huge!”

“Yo, what the hell’s going on out there?” Puck is heard next, “Why’s everyone crowding the door?”

Everyone starts to talk amongst themselves and the sound of the music is much louder now that the barrier is gone. Brittany only looks to Santana and smiles.

“I guess it’s time to join the party, huh?” Santana asks.

Brittany shrugs, “Only if you’re ready?”

There’s a short pause as they stare at each other because Brittany’s words carry a heavier meaning than the others realize. That first step into Santana’s new chapter is here and Brittany just wants to be sure that Santana has had all the time she needs to reflect.

With the way Santana starts back at Brittany, a look of resolution on her face, Brittany thinks the answer is clear.

“I am,” Santana rises and extends a hand for Brittany to take. The smile on her face starts to grow, “Let’s go in together.”

“Okay,” Brittany beams as she takes Santana’s hand.

“Alright,” Santana clears her throat as she turns to their friends, “Move it, Fabray! Puck, get me and Brittz a drink! Mike, Sam get the table ready. We’ve got a bet to settle!”

As everyone scrambles, Brittany just grins and trails after her always in awe of how Santana can command a room.

\\

The moment is short lived though once they make their way through the kitchen where several Titans have gathered to top up their cups. As if they could sense their quarterback’s presence, they all stop and turn to her.

For a second, she feels Santana tense beside her. Brittany only holds her hand tighter.

“G.O.A.T, G.O.A.T, G.O.A.T!” They begin to cheer, their collective voices are so loud it feels like it shakes the walls. They barely even notice Brittany and Santana holding hands as they keep chanting happily.

Brittany laughs while trying to quiet them down, but no one seems to listen. She’s all for celebrating, but the attention makes her feel shy – especially now that the alcohol in her systems is long gone.

“Okay guys,” Brittany tries with a chuckle, “We get it. Thank you.”

The Titans settle and give their congratulations again with pats on the shoulder and fist bumps as they disperse from the kitchen. While Sam, Mike and Quinn make their way into the other room where the beer pong tables are set up, Puck heads to the island counter where the drinks are kept.

Brittany and Santana follow, but the blonde can feel Santana’s eyes on her, curious and impressed.

“Were they calling you a goat?” Santana asks around a laugh.

“It's a compliment,” Brittany explains as Puck comes around them to pour their drinks.

“Greatest of all time,” Puck says proudly, “That’s your girl, Lopez. She’s got big things coming up in her future. Another chance at being the hot shot on campus!”

“I mean, obviously,” She quips as Puck hands them their drinks, “She’s hot no matter the campus.”

“Yeah, but not just any campus…” Puck smirks.

Santana glances between them looking slightly confused, “What’s he talking about?”

It isn’t until then that Brittany realizes she’s been so caught up in finding Santana and their conversation on porch that she hasn’t told Santana about the OSU recruiter yet.

“So that recruiter Coach wanted me to meet after the game?” Brittany tells Santana, “He wants to schedule a meeting with me after Christmas break, maybe have me come up to tour the facilities.”

Santana’s eyes widen as she turns to her, “Really? Oh my God! B, that's huge!”

“I know,” Brittany replies, “He said he was impressed. Apparently, I’ve got one heck of an arm and that my accuracy is like crazy good. All things I already knew, but it was really cool to hear it from someone like him. Ohio State is one of the top schools in the football world so if he’s complimenting me then…it’s something to be proud of. Nothing’s set in stone yet, but it looks promising for me.”

“That’s amazing,” Santana replies as she glides her hand up Brittany’s arm lovingly, “He’d be crazy not to take you on. You’re like a football goddess.”

Brittany blushes, “I don’t know about all that...”

“It’s true, Pierce, and you know it!” Puck smirks, “Now can we see what that arm can do at pong? I’ve got big money on this game!”

Santana rolls her eyes at him, but instead of cursing him out she just looks to Brittany and holds her hand tighter.

“I’m proud of you, babe,” She says softly, “Really. If anyone deserves this, it’s you.”

Brittany can only smile fondly in response as they make their way to the other room.

\\

Just like their first showdown, the match between Brittany and Quinn is a nail biter.

The audience is even bigger than before, but Brittany isn’t phased too much by them – she’s more focused on impressing Santana with her mad skills. Unlike the last time, Santana lingers by her side whispering sweet words of encouragement mixed in with flirty compliments that makes Brittany’s face feel flush.

Thankfully she’s able to blame it on the alcohol and no one else seems to notice.

So far, she’s ahead of Quinn by three cups but Brittany knows she can’t get cocky just yet – even if Santana’s doing all the shit-talking for her.

“Where the hell were you aiming, Fabray?” Santana jokes as the ball bounces off the edge of the table and into the crowd of bystanders, “I thought you were good at this game? Britt’s working with a sore elbow, step your game up!”

“Will you pipe down over there?” Quinn grumbles before Brittany sinks another cup.

“Drink up,” Brittany smirks while Santana cheers.

Quinn just rolls her eyes as she goes for the cup, “I play better when I’m drunk anyway.”

“Excuses,” Santana laughs before leaning in to kiss Brittany’s cheek, “You’re doing great, B.”

“It’s all in the wrist,” Brittany giggles.

“Whatever it is, keep doing it,” Santana grins and fires down another insult in Quinn’s direction.

Brittany laughs at the way Santana’s being so carefree but she’s sure it’s also the alcohol taking effect. Either way, she curls her arm around Santana’s waist and gives her a kiss back loving how comfortable they are about doing this in public. As she takes a look around them, she notices no one stares – no one even looks their way.

Maybe Santana’s right about this being the beginning of something new? Maybe the hype of something they’ve all deemed so scandalous has died down? Maybe they can finally be like any other couple out there?

Brittany’s train of thought is broken by the sound of a pong ball plopping into one of her cups though. Quinn and Mike cheer from the other end while Santana waves them off.

“Whatever! You’re still losing,” Santana tells them but they don’t hear her – Mike and Quinn are too busy sharing a celebratory kiss.

“Quinn’s about to redeem herself, Britt!” Sam warns, “Watch out.”

Quinn just smirks as she takes a big gulp of her drink.

\\

Although Quinn’s able to tie the score, her redemption tour doesn’t end up working in her favor. With just one cup left on each side, it felt reminiscent of their last match. Only this time, Santana’s there to whisper into Brittany’s ear a very promising reward should she win this game.

That was all the incentive Brittany needed to set the record straight on who the real champ of beer pong was. On her next go, she sinks her ball into Quinn’s last cup with one swift motion.

“Yeah! Take that, Fabray!” Santana quips.

The room erupts in cheers along with Santana while Sam moves around to collect the winnings.

“Well earned, Cap,” He says as he hands over a wad of cash to Brittany.

Brittany chuckles as she takes the stack. She flips through it before handing him a twenty, “For your support.”

Sam bows his head before tucking the bill away in his pocket, “Thanks!”

As Brittany does the same, Santana comes up from behind and slides her arms around Brittany’s waist.

“What about me?” Santana husks against the back of her neck, “What do I get?”

The sound tugs at something deep within Brittany – something that makes her want take Santana to a dark empty room where they can be alone – but she just bites her lip as she turns in Santana’s arms. There’s this familiar glimmer in her pretty brown eyes that seem to darken as they lower to Brittany’s lips.

Santana’s not being subtle and Brittany revels in it.  

“Baby, you can have whatever you like,” Brittany flirts lowly.

Santana lets out a raspy chuckle, but soon they’re interrupted by Quinn and Mike joining them from their side of the table.

“Well played,” Quinn points out around a smirk, “Even with your elbow.”

Brittany chuckles as she wraps her arm around Santana’s shoulders, “Had my good luck charm with me this time.”

Santana snorts at Brittany’s corniness as she pinches lightly at her side. They all fall into casual conversation as they watch the next round of beer pong, sipping their drinks and laughing along with whatever impression Sam tries.

“So what's the plan now that the season's over?” Mike asks before taking a sip of his beer.

“Yeah,” Sam chimes in, “There's still that spot on my team for synchronized swimming?”

Brittany shakes her head, “I think I'll pass.”

“I'm sure Coach Sylvester wouldn't say no to you joining the squad?” Quinn offers.

Santana scoffs, “Sure she would. She's not going to extend the offer twice. Think about her pride.”

“True,” Quinn nods.

“Sorry babe,” Santana nudges Brittany as she begins to smirk, “You'll have to do a little begging if you really want it.”

Quinn practically facepalms at Santana’s lack of subtilty while the guys playfully catcall the couple. Santana’s looks quite pleased with herself for that innuendo too and it makes Brittany laugh, trying to mask being so flustered by the comment.

“Oh, I'm sure I could get myself on the team,” Brittany says, “I can be pretty convincing.”

“Ooooh,” Mike and Sam tease in unison.

Santana rolls her eyes at their commentary, “Shut up.”

Brittany chuckles, “But on a serious note, I don't think I'll try joining the Cheerios either.”

“What then?” Quinn wonders.

“Going to whip the Puck Heads into shape next?” Mike jokes.

“They need it!” Sam laughs, “Wait can you play hockey too?”

Brittany shakes her head, “I’m not very good.”

“So there is something you can't do?” Santana teases quietly.

Brittany bumps her girlfriend with her hip before replying, “I think I’ll keep up my training instead and just focus on my studies for the most part. You know, spend more time with my family and my girl.”

“My girl,” Mike parrots to Sam before they start giggling like a couple of school girls.

“Q, do something about him,” Santana groans.

Quinn smirks, “No way. You too are cute. Mike and I might actually have some real competition when Prom season comes around.”

“Please,” Santana holds up her hand, “Brittz and I totally have that in the bag.”

Brittany nods, “It's true. We're awesome.”

“That’s right,” Santana lifts her chin proudly.

“We’ll see,” Quinn waves off although there’s a proud smile on her face, “If you change your mind about the Cheerios, Britt, let me know.”

“Sure,” Brittany nods, “I think I’ll be set on just training though.”

“Especially if you’re headed to OSU,” Sam cheers before he and Mike high five.

Brittany smiles at their enthusiasm but then she catches a glimpse of Santana’s look of somberness. She’s not really sure how to interpret it, but the unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach makes her want to explain further.

“It’s not a done deal yet,” Brittany clarifies, “I still want to weight up all my options when they come.”

She makes a point to glance in Santana’s direction as she speaks, wanting to give her this reassurance that she hasn’t made a decision yet. Santana seems to catch on and smiles in return.

“That’ll take you forever,” Santana jokes, “There’s bound to be a lot of them.”

Brittany just smiles. She hopes Santana’s right, but even if she isn’t she’s happy with her current outlook.

\\

The rest of Brittany’s night is spent mostly on the dancefloor with her friends, a cold drink in her hand and her super hot girlfriend grinding against her. It’s the most fun she has had in awhile and it feels even more relaxed than usual now that she has another Championship win beneath her belt.

Actually, there’s so much to celebrate tonight so it seems that everyone is in high spirits. Crowds of people that wouldn’t usually mingle are mingling, the drinks are flowing, the dancefloor is packed – even if Finn looks like he’s sleepwalking and Sugar’s taken over the DJ booth again.

There’s this satisfying buzz in the air, this comforting feeling that everything will somehow be alright from now on. When Brittany looks to her side, she finds Santana watching her with this knowing grin.

“What?” Brittany starts to smile too.

Santana only shrugs, “You wanna go outside with me? I need some air.”

“Sure,” Brittany says and as she starts to lead the way to the back door she’s hit with a strange sense of déjà vu. She wonders what it could be as she swipes a water bottle from the cooler and slides open the back door.

They continue to out onto the back porch and head to the pool chairs across the way. There’s a few others standing around the fire pit but they’re too far away for them to notice Santana and Brittany taking a seat. The two cuddle up together for warmth, but the fresh air feels nice on their flushed faces.

“You having a good time?” Brittany wonders as she twists off the cap of the water bottle and hands it to Santana first.

“With you? Always,” Santana winks before taking a sip. Once she finishes she passes it back to Brittany, “You?”

“Duh.”

There’s a comfortable pause where they just stare in the direction of the house, watching the shadows of partygoers cross the windows. While they pass the water bottle they share back and forth, something still feels oddly reminiscent but Brittany can’t quite put her finger on it. She has a pretty strong buzz going on so it’s no wonder she can’t think straight, but it still makes her ponder.

“So Ohio State, huh?” Santana says after a moment and it sounds like there’s a hint of nervousness in her voice. Maybe it’s only the cold though as she adds, “Keeping it close to home?”

''I don't want to get my hopes up just yet, but it would be pretty cool,” Brittany explains.

“They'd be crazy not to have you.”

“So you’ve said,” Brittany smirks.

Santana laughs but becomes a little shy as she averts her eyes to the bottle in her hands. She doesn’t say anything for a moment as she picks at the label. When she does, it makes Brittany’s heart race.

“Maybe I'll see you there?”

Brittany thinks her ears have deceived her once again. She blinks and asks, “Wait, where? OSU?”

“Yeah,” Santana says hesitantly.

Brittany can’t help but smile in disbelief, “You applied?”

“Yeah. I mean, I’ve applied to a lot of places,” Santana responds. There’s still a little hesitance but it slowly fades as she takes in Brittany’s initial reaction, “But Ohio State is at the top of my list if it’s at the top of yours.”

Brittany’s speechless.

This is the first time she’s hearing Santana suggesting the idea of them potentially going to college together. She thought it might’ve been a pipe dream, a silly wish that would never be fulfilled, but hearing Santana’s offer makes her feel like she’s on top of the world.  

“It has a pretty good Sports Medicine program,” Santana continues upon Brittany’s silence, “And I kind of also like the idea that I wouldn't be too far from you if that’s where you decide to go. I know you’ll be super busy with practice and training. I’ll probably be super busy too but – all the more reason to stay close by?”

There’s a momentary lapse of judgment on Santana’s end though because Brittany still hasn’t said anything so she quickly begins to ramble on.

“Unless you don’t want to do that. That’s cool too because maybe it’s weird to think that far ahead. Is it weird?” Santana questions, “A lot can change in the next six months. Like what if we break up or end up hating each other?”

Brittany softens, “I could never hate you. That’s silly.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Santana shakes away the idea, “I know we've only been dating for a little while and we’ve never really talked about what we want to do in the future – like after we graduate – but I don’t know. Staying close to you felt right so I just…I wanted to put it out there.”

Brittany finally finds her voice and replies, “That sounds like an awesome idea.”

Santana looks hopeful, “Really?”

“As long as this is what you want to do too,” Brittany clarifies, “I don't want to be the one to keep you here just because we're together. I want you to follow your dreams too, even if that means being apart for a little bit. It might be hard, but we could find a way. I just – I want to make sure that you’re not doing this because of me.”

“It's what I want,” Santana says confidently, “I'm sure of it. I’m only doing things for me now. I’ve actually been thinking about it for awhile now, I was just a little nervous about saying something out loud too soon. I didn’t want to scare you off.”

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about it a few times too,” Brittany chuckles as she drapes her arm around Santana, “You and I in college together sounds so cool.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Santana smirks.

Brittany nods, “So Sports Medicine, huh? You really want to be a doctor after all.”

Santana blushes, “You know, I could never see myself being the kind of doctor my dad is because it's super boring and I couldn't justify going through all that schooling to be bored for the rest of my life. No offense to him, but no way.”

Brittany giggles at Santana’s reasoning and the way she crinkles her nose cutely.

“I figure it’s time to have something of my own. I can continue the Lopez legacy in a roundabout way, I’m just adding my own touch.”

“Makes sense,” Brittany shrugs.

“So, I’ve done my research though and I think Sports Medicine might just be my thing,” Santana adds, “I'm apart of the action without actually being in it. It’s exciting and just my speed and who knows, maybe I’ll come across people like you?”

“Like me?”

“Yeah,” Santana shrugs, “You know – people who strive to make a difference in a sport that they love. People who do the work to leave a positive impression behind. People who can influence entire teams for the better – like you.”

Brittany’s a little in awe of Santana, “You really think that about me?”

“Of course I do,” Santana replies easily, “You’re smart, you’re talented, and you’re a good person. You know how hard it is to be all three? You do it with such ease. You've inspired me, Britt, and I’m sure I’m not the only one out there. I’m just the lucky one that gets to date you too.”

Brittany chuckles at that as she starts to blush. Santana grins and leans in a little closer.

“In a way, you’ve made me remember why I ever wanted to be a doctor in the first place.”

“Really?”

Santana hums, “You’ve taught me so much without realizing it. You’ve taught me how to go after the things that I want, no matter what the obstacles may be, because what awaits at the end is so worth it. I know it’s true because here I am sitting with you.”

Brittany’s so taken aback by Santana’s words that she can only say three in response. It’s the only three words that have been repeating over and over again in her head since they were back on the field together. At first it was a quiet whisper, but after everything Santana just said – Brittany can’t hold back any longer.

“I love you.”

She says it simply around a look of pure adoration because that’s exactly what she feels at this very moment for Santana – complete adoration.

Santana sputters out a disbelieving laugh, “You do?”

“Don’t sound so shocked,” Brittany giggles, “I meant to tell you earlier at the game but I guess I was just stunned more than anything. I didn’t expect you to be the one to say it first.”

“You and me both.”

“Yeah,” Brittany says shyly, “Actually, I've been meaning to tell you for awhile now. There's been so many times that I felt like I was just going to blurt it out, but I didn't know if you'd feel the same way and l was nervous that – I don’t know. I was nervous that maybe I was moving too fast. I didn’t want to scare you off either.”

Santana smiles at that and it eases Brittany’s nerves a little as they settle into another comfortable silence.

After all the loss she has endured this year and all the obstacles she has faced since moving to Lima, she’s never felt so wholly content than she does at this very moment. There’s been times when everything has felt too serious, too hopeless even, so to be where she is now is something really special.

Brittany always felt like she was a great playmaker, not just on the field, but in life too. She always felt like she could make the best out of any situation, but this year really tested her. The hurt she felt after losing her dad was something she didn’t think she’d ever recover from and she didn’t think it was possible to pull herself out of that dark place she’d sometimes find herself in.

But here, in Lima of all places, it was like the sun began to shine on her once again.

She met Santana and found herself on a brand new football team and everything else started to fall into place – she began to thrive once more. That unbearable pain from before still lingers but it’s only a dull ache now compared to what it once was. When she thinks about how much she has grown in such a short amount of time, she’s reminded of where it all started – and that’s when it hits her.

That feeling of déjà vu that has resided in the back of her mind starts to make sense!

As Brittany glances over to the clear glass of the sliding door they exited from earlier, she remembers what it was like being on the other side of it months ago. She remembers the similar thrum of dance music, the faceless bodies swaying about to the beat, the cold beer in her hand. She was starting to get used to the idea of spending her senior year in Lima.

She remembers thinking that maybe this place won’t be so bad after all, maybe it won’t be so lonely? She was already off to a great start by finding herself a place with the Titans and there was also her budding friendship with Mike and Sam. She even had a place to sit at lunch so she didn’t have to do the new kid walk of shame into the cafeteria.

Brittany felt hopeful and then she remembers seeing her for the first time.

Santana, in her tight skirt and low-cut top. Santana, with her hair and make up perfectly styled. Santana, looking like she belonged on a cover of a magazine with how gorgeous she was just sitting poolside.

At the memory, Brittany glances from the door to her side where Santana watches quietly. She finds herself smiling at how it’s nearly the exact same spot as the first time she ever saw her.

“What?” Santana wonders, “What are you smiling about?”

“I was just thinking,” Brittany answers, “This spot is pretty special.”

Santana quirks a brow as she looks around, “Is it?”

“Totally,” Brittany replies before pointing over to the edge of the pool, “The first time I ever saw you, you were sitting right over there.”

Santana chuckles, “Was I?”

“Yup!” Brittany grins, “You were sitting by the pool with Quinn and I remember thinking how I’ve never seen a girl looking so sad at a party before.”

“Oh,” Santana blushes, “I used to hate coming to these things. You know, I nearly didn’t go to that one?”

“Really?”

“I just didn’t have the energy for it,” Santana shrugs, “But I showed up because I thought I had to – for appearances sake. Also because Quinn wanted to see Mike and she didn’t want to go alone.”

Brittany chuckles, “Well I’m glad you came anyway. Could you imagine what it would’ve been like if you hadn’t?”

“For one, I wouldn’t have embarrassed myself by being the sad girl…”

Brittany gives her a amused look, “I also remember thinking that I’ve never seen someone so beautiful.”

Santana smirks, “Oh really?”

“Mhmm,” Brittany starts to smirk too, “This spot is even more special now because this is where you kissed me for the first time.”

Santana softens, “It is, isn’t it?”

They keep trading these smitten grins as they sink into each other’s sides. It feels like it has been the longest day ever, but she’s so happy that she’s ending it like this – with Santana by her side in there little bubble of happiness and…so in love.

So in love, that gets Brittany thinking.

She contemplates if she really wants to be this truthful but she figures the alcohol is making her speak more freely than usual, so why not? Honesty has always been the best policy anyway, so Petey says.

“You want to hear something funny?” Brittany quietly asks a moment later.

“What?”

She inhales a shaky breath before saying, “I've never said that to anyone – I love you. I mean, I've had love for people and I've said I love you to people in like a friendly way and I of course tell my mom and Pete that I love them too but I've never meant it like this before.”

Santana stares back with this adorably confused look on her face and it makes Brittany blush. It all makes sense in her head, but she isn’t sure if it’s translating the right way out loud.

“I've never meant it like,” Brittany pauses for a moment before she smiles, “Like I’m in love with you.”

Santana turns to her with this awed expression on her face. It’s like she can’t believe what she’s hearing or that Brittany’s speaking in gibberish. Dark brown eyes shift back and forth as if she’s waiting for a punchline that isn’t going to come. When Brittany only continues to stare back – sure and unwavering – Santana lets out a shy giggle.

“You're in love with me?” She asks breathlessly.

Brittany nods, “I am.”

“Wow,” Santana blushes. Her lips part and press after that but the words don’t form. It isn’t until Santana let’s out another shy giggle before staring back at Brittany and softening, “Well, don't I feel special.”

“So you should,” Brittany laughs at the way Santana’s trying so hard to be cool about it although she can tell that Santana’s anything but cool on the inside.

Santana gives her one last look of disbelief before leaning in like she’s about to tell her a deep dark secret, “You know what?”

“What?”

Santana bites her lip before saying, “I've never told anyone that I love them before. You’re the first.”

“Really?” Brittany feels like she’s floating again, “Now I feel special too.”

“So you should,” Santana teases.

Brittany giggles at her response before settling into her side.

What a whirlwind of a year it has been! Never would she have thought that this is how she’d be ending it, with an amazing girlfriend by her side and another championship title in her possession. It makes her wonder what the rest of the school year has in store for her, it makes her wonder what obstacles she’s bound to face.

She knows they’re inevitable, because nothing comes easy. If anything, this past year has taught her that much. But this time she has something she didn’t have before – she has someone she loves and who loves her back.

She has Santana.

With her, Brittany thinks anything is possible.

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

I have seen many, MANY discussions/debates about ca:cw and I have never seen anyone mentioning that Rhodey's injury was a metaphor. How did you get that idea?

Short answer: I’ve actually read a lot on the subject.  I’m teaching a media studies class right now called “What Can Superheroes Tell Us About Psychology?” (because that’s the kind of shit you can get away with at giant universities) and hoo boy are superhero narratives More Ableist Than Average.  Anywhoo, a few of those readings:

I’m quoting hard from the chapter “Hyper-Normative Heroes, Othered Villains: Differential Treatment of Disability in Marvel” in a book on disability studies because it��s free.  A relevant passage:

“These metaphorical portrayals all fail to engage with disability as a social category and as an individual identity, thereby ignoring its context… Nick Fury’s missing eye does not change his aim with distance weapons (e.g. Captain Marvel) or piloting software. Instead, it recurs in the films largely in metaphorical lines such as Fury’s commenting on the death of a friend with ‘I just lost my one good eye’… One character in Avengers even questions the lack of accessibility in Fury’s multi-monitor computer console, and Fury’s assistant simply answers that he must turn his head more often to compensate. The franchise thereby emphasizes that Fury’s missing eye is only a metaphor for his discernment and ability to see details that others have missed, rather than a truly integrated part of his character or even an accurate portrayal of that disability.

“8. This treatment of disability as metaphor persists throughout the MCU. In Captain America: Civil War, superhero War Machine incurs a permanent spinal injury while fighting on behalf of his best friend Iron Man. Later on, rival superhero Hawkeye… ‘You gotta watch your back with this guy. There’s a chance he’s gonna break it.’ The film then equips War Machine with a fantastical prosthesis that essentially nullifies his disabled experience through giving him the same range of motion as his non-disabled [abled] teammates, entirely without side effects or need for maintenance. The MCU films thus present disability as a metaphor for inner morality and characterization. War Machine has few experiences of being a disabled man through his spinal injury, but is instead emotionally ‘disabled’ by the damage to his social standing he has incurred through his friendship with Iron Man… The MCU thereby offers no critique of ableism or inaccessibility, instead continuing to localize disability as a problem with the body and the individual.”

Death, Disability, and the Superhero: The Silver Age and Beyond by José Alaniz is also a fantastic resource, and you can buy it for money here or hopefully find it at a library if you have no money.  A few of the relevant points from his book:

Superhero stories often treat disability as a “problem” that must be “solved” through in essence nullifying the disabled experience of the character(s) through superpowers that run directly counter to the disabilities and/or fantasy “cures,” e.g.

Daredevil is blind BUT navigates the world in a way similar to sighted people due to his “radar sense,” meaning that he doesn’t get to have a lot of the lived experiences of blind individuals

Don Blake is mobility impaired and uses a cane BUT his cane transforms into mjolnir and imbues him with the power of Thor, meaning that he spends most of the story moving like a nondisabled person

Hawkeye is hard of hearing sometimes in some of the comics, BUT he often gets magical cochlear implants from Tony Stark that cause him to stop being hard of hearing

Characters that are disabled and remain disabled tend to be villains whose villainy is either implied or stated to come directly from their bitterness over being disabled, e.g.

Doctor Doom hates that he’s scarred by an explosion so much that he wants to take over the world to get revenge on the Fantastic Four

The Lizard only transforms himself because he ignores all scientific and ethical boundaries in his desperation to stop being disabled

Doctor Poison is described by herself and other characters as a “monster” for failing to (unlike Wonder Woman) conform to White Western conceptualizations of female beauty 

Characters like The Thing, She-Hulk, and Bizarro have the potential for some really interesting disability narratives.  However, the same publication pressures that prevent permanent injury or death to the characters also prevent the inclusion of “serious” “real-world” issues like discrimination unless it’s metaphorical (e.g. anti-mutant fearmongering as a metaphor for anti-AIDS prejudice).

The Big Damn Foundational Text on the intersection of disability studies and media studies is Narrative Prosthesis: Disability and the Dependencies of Discourse by David T. Mitchell and Sharon L. Snyder, and you can pay money for it here but it’s also available at a lot of libraries.  Anyway, a couple of relevant points from that book include: 

Disability portrayals abound in literature going back to pretty much the dawn of history, but most of those portrayals suck ass because:

Most disabilities are treated as metaphors rather than demographic characteristics, which means that the disabled character doesn’t get connected to other people with disabilities (including those in the real world) and offers no commentary on ableism — if Richard III’s spinal misalignment is just a metaphor for him being “twisted” inside, it doesn’t allow readers with spinal misalignment to identify with him

Disabled characters tend to exist to teach lessons to nondisabled characters rather than having their own journeys — Tiny Tim isn’t a person in A Christmas Carol, he’s an object lesson for Scrooge

Many disabled characters either get “fixed” so that they look outwardly “normal,” or their “ugliness” is used to make concrete the abstract “ugliness” of their personalities

Disability is treated as a “problem” that demands an explanation – Captain Ahab’s prosthetic leg and Joker’s facial scarring are treated as automatically demanding the question “why are you like this?,” even though no one would ever ask the same thing of their nondisabled co-characters

Authors’ implicit ableism tends to come out in their horror of disability, such as when they portray disabled characters preferring death to disability, going to extreme lengths to avoid or nullify disability, and/or declaring themselves “worthless” or “burdensome” in light of disability

Discomfort with disability — another form of implicit ableism – also comes out when disabled characters are overwhelmingly “killed or cured,” meaning that they don’t get to end their stories as living individuals who are still, in practice, disabled

ANYWAY, that’s a long-winded way of saying that I also haven’t seen any critics specifically talk about Rhodey’s disability as a metaphor first and a part of the character second, but that that doesn’t mean the shoe don’t fit.  When someone asks about the Accords in Infinity War, Rhodey also says he supported them but then “I’m pretty sure I paid for that,” and gestures at his own paralyzed legs.  He also also says in Endgame “I wasn’t always like this… but we work with what we’ve got” when talking to Nebula, BOTH about the fact that he’s disabled and about the fact that half the universe is dead and they’re all struggling to cope with that fact.  It keeps getting used as a metaphor and keeps NOT getting used as a part of his identity.  LET THE MAN TALK TO SOME OTHER DISABLED VETERANS FOR TWO SECONDS, FOR FUCK’S SAKE.

A couple of other (free!) readings that talk about that general problem of “we love superheroes and we hate ableism, now what?” even if they don’t mention Rhodey specifically: 

“Reevaluating the Supercrip” by Sami Schalk connects media portrayals of the paralympics to media portrayals of Captain America and the Doom Patrol.  (I swear to god it makes sense in context.)

“Seven Roads to Justice for Superheroes and Humans” by Mikhail Lyubansky gets into the glaring (for me, anyway) question of “why the fuck are sci fi psychologists all so evil and useless?” by explaining why Harley Quinn must be evil for Batman to be a vigilante.

“Superhero Comics as Moral Pornography” by David A. Pizarro and Roy Baumeister (again, I swear it makes sense if you read it) discusses the evolutionary tendency to judge people based on disabilities and why it’s so popular in superhero stories specifically.

Anyway, you probably weren’t looking for an entire annotated bibliography in response to that question, but I’ve never been one to use five words when 500 would suffice.

[aion-rsa]

10 Injustice Characters the DC Animated Movie Needs to Get Right

https://ift.tt/3fCncB7

As we wait an announcement pertaining to the existence of NetherRealm Studios’ Injustice 3, we at least know that Warner Bros. is set to adapt the games into a DC animated movie.

Ever since its release in 2013, the Injustice franchise has not only become a staple of NetherRealm’s roster, but the comic spinoffs have made it a beloved part of the DC multiverse. The plot revolves around a reality where the Joker was able to mess with Superman so badly that the Man of Steel gradually became a mass-murdering dictator, with the support of several members of the Justice League. Left without any other option, Batman brought in counterparts of the Justice League from the “mainstream” universe to help him fight a civil war against his former friend. It was a story that merged the Justice Lords two-parter from the Justice League cartoon with Marvel’s original Squadron Supreme comic series.

A popular prequel series was released, mostly written by Tom Taylor, that explained the five years in-between Superman killing the Joker in cold blood and Batman’s last stand. Sometime later, the game’s story was adapted into the comic Injustice: Ground Zero. And the Injustice universe has only continued to grow since then.

As snazzy as NetherRealm’s story modes are, they are going to have to make some changes to the narrative for the animated movie. It’s not like every character is going to stumble into exactly four best-two-out-of-three fights in a row before someone else is the focus. Knowing that there will be alterations, some characters are really going to need some tender love and care.

Superman (Both of Them)

Injustice: Gods Among Us didn’t invent the idea of an evil Superman, but things are a bit over-saturated these days. Face it, “Dark Superman” has been done to death, what with Brightburn, The Boys, Invincible, and everything Zack Snyder intended with his Justice League movies.

It’s important that the animated movie really get into the WHY of what turned Superman evil instead of the Joker just getting a tragic win over him. The Injustice comic nudged him over and over again with multiple betrayals and manipulations before he finally snapped and angrily broke every bone in Green Arrow’s body. Hit all that, or at least enough of it.

More importantly, Injustice is a story of two different Supermen. The mainstream Superman has to ring true. He has to be the beacon of hope and positivity that pop culture has been missing for the past decade.

Ultimately, as long as they don’t do that minigame where Superman blows up cars and the people in them with his eye-lasers, we’re cool.

Batman

In this DC take of Marvel’s Civil War, Batman is by default the better person when compared to Superman. He has a line he won’t cross and that means no murder and no tyranny. That said, he still needs to be portrayed as a flawed hero. He may be competent, but he still behaves like a total douche at times and deserves to take one to the chin every now and then.

Being a paranoid futurist who buries himself in contingency plans means alienating allies, friends, and even family members. There’s a great moment in the Injustice comic where he reveals that he infected Cyborg with a virus within a week of meeting (you know, just in case), which Killer Croc says is outright sinister. It’s this kind of behavior that led to Superman’s fall to darkness, because even if Bruce wasn’t behind any of the horrors, he still chose coldness and paranoia over being there for a friend who was going through some serious shit.

Harley Quinn

A hype trailer for Harley painted her as a major protagonist in the first game but the game’s story mode just didn’t measure up. The comics did a better job and the Ground Zero volume was specifically about telling the game’s story from Harley’s perspective. I’m not saying that she should be joined by her team of BFF henchmen from Ground Zero, but she should definitely be a prominent hero.

Similar to the Mark Waid comic series Irredeemable and Incorruptible (also about an evil take on Superman), Harley’s turn to heroism is the universe’s response to Superman’s actions. She’s done some horrible things and may never make up for her actions under the Joker’s thumb, but she’ll keep fighting to stop Superman’s atrocities.

Wonder Woman

While Batman did a bad job trying to pull Superman from the darkness, Wonder Woman succeeded in pushing him in. It’s noted here and there, but this Wonder Woman was also altered by tragedy. In this timeline, Steve Trevor turned out to be a Nazi traitor. His betrayal left Diana feeling much less optimistic and hopeful than her mainstream self.

Wonder Woman’s villainy isn’t as pronounced as Superman’s, but she’s definitely the friendly face who eggs him on and wants him to stand over all mankind. As Superman uses her to fill the void left from Lois Lane’s death, the power couple become very good at bringing out the worst in each other.

Damian Wayne

The Injustice game did Damian a little dirty, revealing deep into the story that the Nightwing fighting on Superman’s side was not Dick Grayson, but Damian. According to Batman, Damian murdered Dick. The comics dove deeper into that and made it more of a freak accident brought on by Damian being an impulsive and angry child. Still, Bruce and his son were unable to make amends due to their shared lack of warmth.

Later stories, and even Injustice 2, added more depth to Damian. It always made sense that he’d join Superman’s Regime, but there was a soul in there who would eventually see that this wasn’t the right path. In the comic Injustice vs. Masters of the Universe, which was treated as a sequel to Injustice 2’s dark ending, Damian took up the mantle of Batman to oppose Superman and even grew a long-missing sense of humor in the process.

Lex Luthor

The great tragedy of the DC multiverse is that Superman and Lex Luthor just can’t get along. They will always be at odds no matter what Earth they come from. The Injustice universe was the one exception, as Luthor was portrayed as fairly warm and altruistic. Much like Batman, he has contingency plans up the wazoo, but they don’t come off as creepy.

Seeing him there as Superman’s longtime friend who sadly has to stab him in the back brings back that multiversal truth about the duo. Just because this is a world where Superman kills and things get very bleak doesn’t mean it’s the worst world and that it isn’t worth saving. The mainstream Cyborg is reluctant to come to terms with this heroic Luthor, but he ultimately accepts the miracle that this universe created a Luthor worth befriending and even looking up to.

Hal Jordan

Maybe it’s just me, but I was never a fan of how Geoff Johns retconned Hal’s past and gave him deniability for everything he did as Parallax. I liked that a boring hero dude like Hal snapped, did some bad stuff, and then had to accept his failures in an attempt to be better. With Injustice, they gave us that exact Hal.

Read more

Games

Injustice Beat Zack Snyder’s Justice League to the Punch

By Matthew Byrd

Comics

Injustice: Year Zero Brings the Justice Society to DC Alternate Universe

By Jim Dandy

Overflowing with willpower and being an otherwise competent space cop, Hal is still something of a dunce at times, and he’s susceptible to manipulation in the right situation. He’s already following Superman’s lead, but having Sinestro pop in to indoctrinate him into the Sinestro Corps makes him actually interesting. Let Hal be the worst version of himself here so he can double back on it in the sequel and beg Guy Gardner’s ghost for forgiveness.

Shazam

Injustice may be the B-side to Mortal Kombat, but the game itself is fairly tame on the violence. Joker’s death isn’t actually shown on screen, Luthor’s end is fairly clean, and Grodd taking a trident to the torso is relatively tame.

But what we absolutely, positively have to see in the animated movie is Shazam’s death scene to really give an idea of how far gone Superman is. It’s bloodless from our point of view, but it’s grisly as hell and made worse when you remember that Shazam is a literal child under all the mystical power.

Batgirl

The Barbara Gordon version of Batgirl was one of the first DLC characters added to Injustice, but it’s unfortunate that she’s not in the main story mode — something the animated movie could fix by giving her a more prominent role in the fight against the Regime. Her ending gives her a kickass backstory where she returns to the cowl after her father dies at Superman’s hands. The comics go deeper into this, even making it so that Superman doesn’t directly kill Commissioner Gordon.

In this continuity, she was already wheelchair-bound as Oracle. She had to go under a very dangerous procedure under Luthor’s care in order to walk again. This is one of the storylines that could make for a captivating arc in the movie.

Alfred Pennyworth

Alfred isn’t in either Injustice game. He’s already dead by the start of the first game. But I don’t care. Alfred needs to be in the animated movie because he is the heart and soul of the Injustice comics. While others bow to Superman, follow him, or even try to reason with him, Alfred Pennyworth doesn’t play those games. He will straight-up verbally clown Superman for his actions without flinching. He is not afraid of the Kryptonian, no matter how red his glowing eyes get.

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This comes to a head in the comics when Alfred takes a pill that gives him Kryptonian strength and he kicks the absolute shit out of Superman for ruining his family. I know I’m asking for a lot, but I simply need to see Alfred stomp a mudhole in Superman so hard that his own shoe explodes from the impact.

The post 10 Injustice Characters the DC Animated Movie Needs to Get Right appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3hIQH7h

[carewyncromwell]

((Previously on “Quest for the Quidditch Cup”...))

[The morning of the Quidditch Final was very wet. Gray storm clouds had covered the ceiling of the Great Hall, with transparent raindrops dissipating before they reached the ground. It left Carewyn feeling a distinct sense of foreboding -- one only magnified when Ben met her at the double doors and walked her over to the Gryffindor table where he’d been sitting with Charlie and Jae.

Jae had pinched a copy of Rita Skeeter’s article about the upcoming match. Carewyn at first dreaded reading what horrible way Skeeter had managed to twist what had gone down with Skye and Rath, but when she actually read the headline, she felt her anxiety give way to aggravation.

“FROM CURSEBREAKER TO CHASER -- The Ultimate Underdog Story for the Hogwarts Quidditch Cup!”

That’s right. The story, it turned out, wasn’t about Skye or the Slytherin team at all -- Rita Skeeter had instead made it all about Carewyn and her supposedly “defying all odds” to fill the shoes of the “hot-blooded and impulsive heir to the Parkin Quidditch legacy.”

Although Carewyn was sort of glad that at least this meant that Skye’s misguided belief that Rath had attacked her on purpose hadn’t made the front page, she still couldn’t help but be really steamed about the article. She’d flat-out said that she didn’t want to give Skeeter an interview and that the reporter should talk to the rest of the team instead. But Skeeter apparently had gotten what she’d wanted anyway by asking the rest of the team a lot of questions about Carewyn and whether or not they believed someone “with virtually no experience playing in a serious match” could stand up against the five-time winners of the Hogwarts Quidditch Cup. The whole article made it sound like Carewyn truly was the only person who could win Slytherin house eternal glory -- a sentiment that not only was flat-out untrue, but that also made the pressure on her shoulders feel that much heavier. Charlie had tried to cheer Carewyn up by pointing out that the Slytherin team’s comments about her had sounded positive and that she did deserve some gratitude for taking the Chaser spot at the last minute...but even he seemed to agree it was rather cold to ignore how much work everyone else had put in.

“Your team Captain’s graduating this year too, isn’t he?” he said with a deep frown. “Any decent reporter would’ve mentioned that, after saying this was Skye’s last game at school.”

The article was like a meddlesome fly at the back of Carewyn’s mind the entire time as she headed to the Quidditch tent that afternoon, keeping her eye on the gray-tinted clouds.]

At least it’s stopped raining. And really, clouds can sometimes be better than sunshine -- less chance of getting blinded when you look up...

[Fortunately when she arrived, the rest of the Slytherin team greeted her pleasantly.]

Night: “Carewyn!”

Quinn: “Hey, Carewyn!”

[Carewyn gave the two Beaters her best winning smile.]

“Hi.”

[She took out her robes from her locker and started to change next to her fellow red-haired Chaser, Cara, who was sitting on the bench and putting on her cleats. Carewyn couldn’t help but notice the scrunched-up copy of the Daily Prophet she’d put her boot on top of.

Cara, ever the discerning sort, noticed where Carewyn’s gaze was and smiled wryly.]

Cara: “I hope you’re not letting what that Skeeter woman said get to you.”

[Carewyn blinked.]

“What?”

Quinn: “That rubbish about ‘the Quidditch Cup Final resting squarely on your shoulders.’”

Night: “Yeah -- I mean, that old bat’s always been a huge drama queen. From what I gather, the only reason she’s yet to cover the Cursed Vaults is because she’d been too busy writing articles like Millicent Bagnold supposedly wearing khakis to an international press conference...”

[Carewyn’s mouth dropped open in a mixture of disbelief and utter bewilderment. The Keeper, Ashok Peri, closed his locker with a clatter, looking over his shoulder with a huge smirk.]

Ashok: “If anything, I’d say most of the pressure lies on Kaylisa. She’ll be the one trying to catch the Snitch.”

Kaylisa: “But Quinn and Night’ll be the ones protecting me from Rath -- that’s quite a bit of pressure...”

Cara: “I reckon it’s like what Orion said last night...it’ll be about working as a team, right?”

[Carewyn nodded in agreement. Hearing the team downplay Skeeter’s article so thoroughly made her feel a lot better.]

“Right. We’ll all have our part to play.”

???: “Even me?”

[Skye had entered the tent. She was no longer holding her left side but was still walking a bit precariously.

Carewyn immediately felt herself tensing up again. Had she read the article?]

Kaylisa: “Skye! You made it!”

[Skye tried to smile brightly, but she seemed a bit tense too.]

Skye: “Just because I can’t play doesn’t mean I can’t wish my team luck, right? I already said I planned on cheering you on...”

[Her eyes landed on Carewyn, and the two stared each other down for a moment. Skye’s gaze was standoffish, like a dog with its ears back baring for a fight.]

Yup, she read it.

[Carewyn’s eyes narrowed.]

“...Skye, I didn’t know Rita Skeeter changed the article.”

[Skye raised an eyebrow.]

“She asked me for an interview and I said no, so I thought she’d go back to focusing on you. I told her to talk to the team, not me.”

Skye: “(lowly) It looks like she followed your advice.”

[Night rushed to Carewyn’s defense, coming up to stand beside her.]

Night: “Skye, we didn’t know Skeeter had been planning to write about you. If we’d known, you know we would’ve said something.”

[Cara and Kaylisa nodded too.]

“(firmly) I told Skeeter flat-out that I’m just your substitute. I didn’t want any attention for this. This wasn’t even supposed to be my match: it was supposed to be yours.”

I don’t want praise for chasing someone else’s dream.

“I just want Slytherin to win. That’s all.”

[Amazingly Skye’s face had cleared of the tenseness and insecurity it’d shown long before Carewyn finished. She smiled, her eyes touched with an almost ironic dryness.]

Skye: “You really are a hero, Carewyn. You steal the spotlight so well that Skeeter woman can’t help but ignore me, even at my worst...and yet you’re still too decent of a person to let it go to your head.”

[The rest of the team relaxed. Carewyn gave a faintly uncomfortable smile, her eyes still drawn to the grass to the left of Skye’s foot.]

“(mutters) ...Why would a story crowing about how I’m the only one who can win us the Quidditch Cup go to my head?”

Who needs that sort of pressure?

Skye: “(smirking slightly) I might’ve liked it. Sometimes I wonder how we were lucky enough to grab you instead of Gryffindor, Carewyn.”

“(snorts dryly) Because I don’t just barrel in without thinking.”

[Skye laughed loudly, only to immediately regret it when pain shot through her newly mended ribcage.]

Skye: “Ow ow...fffffudge, that hurts...”

[She hissed in pain.

Carewyn gave her a faintly pitying look as she pulled on her set of spare green Quidditch robes. She’d had to adjust the fit when she first practiced in them, since they’d originally been sized for Skye’s height and weight, not hers.

At that moment Murphy wheeled into the tent. His face lit up at the sight of Skye and Carewyn.]

Murphy: “Hey, Skye! Ready for the Final, Carewyn?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

My insides feel like snakes, but well, that’s normal, isn’t it?

[Murphy looked at Night and Quinn.]

Murphy: “Are you both ready too? We’ll be counting on you out there today -- remember, if you’re over Rath’s shoulder when she tries to attack Kaylisa, we’ve got a 97.2% chance of countering the Ravenclaws’ winning strategy...”

Quinn: “Don’t worry, McNully -- we’ve got this.”

[She exchanged a look with Night and the two Beaters both smirked.]

Cara: “(with a determined smile) Hey, Carewyn...once we’re 70 points up, let’s make sure one of us stays near the center field, just in case Kaylisa sees the Snitch and we need to signal Night or Quinn.”

[Carewyn nodded in agreement, her own face much more serious.]

“Good idea.”

Murphy: “That could also give you time to stall Rath, if it’s taking Night or Quinn a while to get there.”

???: “I agree.”

[Orion entered the tent, already fully dressed in his uniform and holding his Cleansweep. He inclined his head in a single nod to his fellow Chasers, Carewyn and Cara.]

Orion: “We will need to pull out all the steps for this strategy to succeed.”

[He raised his gaze to the others.]

Orion: “Gather around the blackboard, team. It’s time for our moment of vivification.”

[The Slytherins in the tent all shuffled over to the far corner where the blackboard was set up.

Once everyone had assembled, Orion lifted the tent flap that had blown forward, shifting it aside to reveal what it had been hiding -- four Magical Creatures, lined up in a row.]

[A memory fluttered over Carewyn’s mind -- herself, in third year, heading out to the Quidditch Pitch in the hopes of scoring a tryout with the elusive Slytherin Quidditch Captain...

“Fire Crab, Flobberworm, Kneazle, Niffler...”

Orion smiled broadly seeing how Carewyn’s eyes had widened.]

Orion: “I see you remember these creatures too, Carewyn. When each of you first joined our team, I asked you to memorize these four creatures -- to take lessons from each of them, before every practice and match. Today these creatures embody the same traits we’ll need to secure our victory. We’ll need the patience of a Flobberworm resting in the earth...and yet we must be as tenacious as a Niffler in pursuit of gold. We must depend on one another with the loyalty of a Kneazle...and yet we must each burn with the fire of a Fire Crab. Patience -- tenacity -- loyalty -- and fire. They are all traits I have seen in every one of you, whether you’ve been here with me since the beginning...”

[He glanced at Skye out the side of his eye.]

Orion: “...Or you’ve returned to be with me here at the end.”

[His dark eyes landed on Carewyn, softening significantly, before he addressed his team again.]

Orion: “Let me take this time to thank you all, from the bottom of my heart. Even with how much we have won and how much we have lost, the fire in your hearts has never faltered. You’ve never lost sight of our prize. You’ve trained with patience, rather than seeking a shorter road. And above all else...you have been a loyal family to each other...and to me.”

[Some of the team looked like they wanted to cry. Skye already had bowed her head to hide the tears streaming down her face.]

Oh, Orion...the end really is coming up so soon, isn’t it? Your final match...your final chance, to achieve your dream of winning the Cup...

[Memories of Bill’s farewell party the previous year rippled over Carewyn’s mind. She felt a choking feeling forming in the back of her throat, but she fought it back fiercely, even as her eyes likewise drifted down to the ground rather than up at Orion.

Orion amazingly wasn’t crying. Instead his dark eyes shone with such overwhelming pride and softness, it made him look almost paternal.]

Orion: “It...has been an honour...one I will never forget.”

[Even though he’d held in his tears, however, Carewyn could hear his emotion shaking at the back of his soft voice. He was deeply touched by his team’s tears, even though he wasn’t crying himself.]

Orion: “(with more volume and determination) Now then...let us face our opponents with all of our fire! Let us work patiently and unified, as one whole! And let us, no matter what, not let anything stand in the way of our goal today!”

[The entire Slytherin team all burst into cheers, even as tears flooded their eyes and streaked down their faces. Soon Night, Cara, Ashok, and Kaylisa had all divebombed Orion and enveloped him in a huge group hug. Carewyn stood back, bringing a hand up to swipe at the corner of her eye as she tried to compose herself. When she raised her head, she noticed Skye wiping her own face clean of tears with both hands.

As the team dispersed, Skye approached Orion properly.]

[Carewyn looked at Orion, her red lips spread in a smile.]

“(very softly) It was wonderful, Orion.”

[Skye glanced at the four creatures with a raised eyebrow.]

Skye: “...How did you get those things over here, anyway?”

[Orion’s dark eyes twinkled mischievously.]

Orion: “Some mysteries are not meant to be solved -- ”

???: “Mr. Amari!”

[Madame Hooch had arrived-- and judging by how she looked at the flobberworm, Niffler, Kneazle, and Fire Crab, she had not approved of them being brought into the Quidditch tent.

Orion stiffened only ever-so-slightly upon being caught. Within seconds, his mouth spread into a rather large, sugarcoated kind of smile, like a cat trying to play innocent after knocking over an expensive vase.]

Orion: “These creatures are part of our team’s moment of vivification, Madame Hooch. They’ll be returned to Hagrid shortly.”

[Hooch fixed Orion with a rather beady, hawk-like look.]

Hooch: “See that they are, quickly. Neither they nor you should be here. Mr. McNully, you’re needed in the commentary box -- and Miss Parkin, I’d say you should go find a seat in the stands, before you miss anything.”

[Murphy shrugged his shoulders amusedly, and he shot Carewyn, Night, and Quinn a huge grin before wheeling himself out. Skye hesitated, glancing around at all of her teammates, Carewyn, and then finally Orion, before heading out of the tent.]

Hooch: “As for you all -- Mr. Amari, Miss O’Donnell, Miss Cromwell -- Miss Rhea, Miss Mercurenius -- Mr. Peri -- Miss Fortescue...”

((OOC: Next up...the long-anticipated Quidditch Final: Slytherin VS Ravenclaw!

Other Slytherin MC teammates referenced -- Cara O’Donnell @unfortunate-arrow, Night Rhea @nightrhea-hphm​, and Sabrina “Quinn” Mercurenius @danceworshipper! If I can do anything to tweak how your characters are written, just let me know! xoxo

I was very close to having the article reveal at the pre-match party like in the game, but...well, I knew I’d have to rewrite the whole scene anyway, so it felt like it’d be better to just get a move on and get to the match quicker. The fall-out needed to be addressed, of course, but it didn’t seem logical to split material that could fit into one roleplaying post into two, particularly since in this version of events, Skye isn’t so starry-eyed about Rita Skeeter writing an article all about her and so Carewyn has no reason to feel sorry about how things turned out. Honestly all Carewyn feels is the urge to “accidentally” knock a Bludger in Rita’s direction with her broom during the match, but she’s enough of a paragon to resist that urge. No matter how much Rita would deserve it. *SNORT*))

[ryansfabray]

Dance For Me | Ryantana

Who: Ryan Fabray-Lynn & Santana Lopez @subtanaxlopez

Where: Dance Studio

When: Tuesday 9.15.20

What: Santana confronts Ryan about ignoring her texts. Explanations. Then a dance demonstration. 

Santana

Santana was feeling that familiar hurt again, the one where the Fabray sister had fucked her over and she was left feeling like an idiot. But this time she wasn’t going to wait until she caught the other woman pants down with her Dominant or whatever, instead she grabbed hold of the switch Fabrays hand right as she passed the dance studio. “What the fuck? Why are you ignoring my texts?” She hissed. “You know I put myself out there, and it’s really fucking rude that you think you can just drop me like a sack of shit.”

Ryan

Ryan was unaware of the affect she had on Santana by getting her phone taken away. In the chaos that was her morning conversation with Nate, she forgot to retrieve her phone and computer from him before dropping her things off at Jo’s. She would need to do that before Nate or Silas came home. Which meant she would probably be skipping Glee. She could have done it during lunch, but instead she found herself drifting to the dance studio. Ryan didn’t have a clue of why she was going to do, and she certainly wasn’t expected to be pulled by the wrist and pulled into the studio. Confusion was etched on her face until it clicked. “Okay, first of all I’m not ignoring you. My phone got taken away. And I’m not dropping you like a sack of anything.” Ryan felt so off balance without her collar that she didn’t even realize all the conversations she’d dropped and wondered if they all thought she was ignoring them like Santana. “But you’ve got my attention. What did you send me?” Ryan held out her hand, waiting for Santana to hand over her phone.

Santana

Santana was ready to unleash her venom completely on the other woman, still stinging from what had happened with Quinn but then other woman’s rational explanation had her pausing the speech that she had planned about Ryan being a fake top who couldn’t follow through. “Well.. I don’t do this shit alright? I don’t.. do the whole titles spiel or... like be friendly.” She muttered as she handed over the phone so Ryan could see the messages. You’re so fucking pussy whipped. Her inner voice muttered, she felt shyer watching the other girl read the word Master than she had typing it while she was thinking with her vagina.

Ryan

Ryan read over the text as Santana explained why she was behaving the way she was and just looked up at her with a smirk. “And now that you’re here in person, I’m going to want to hear you call me Master in person.” It was the perfect distraction from what was going on in her life. “Then while we’re here you can go ahead and show me these routines of yours, hm?”

Santana

Santana folded her arms protectively as Ryan finished reading, and then took her phone back. “Did you like what you read... Master?” The Latina asked, yes that was hot, confirmed. The horny part of her brain was already picturing Ryan in leather. “I don’t have my shoes on me..” she admitted. “But I’m more than happy to show you.. Master.” There it was again, still so fucking hot.

Ryan

Ryan’s smirk grew. She loved hearing it in person even more. Licking her lips, she nodded. “I do like the way that sounds.” Ryan was already picturing putting the other girl on her knees. She was far prettier in person and had a wit that matched her own. The perfect distraction. “We can add the shoes later. I just want to see how your body moves.” This time it was Ryan wrapping slim fingers around the other girl’s wrist and pulling her towards the pole she had set up months ago. Then she took a seat in a nearby chair. “Pole dance or lap dance, your choice.”

Santana

The submissive couldn’t help but smirk when Ryan said she liked how it sounded, her confidence re-entering her body. “Oh it moves Master.” She promised, letting the title roll more easily off her tongue. The Latina put one hand on the pole, giving herself a little spin as a warm up. And Abulea has claimed she never learned anything useful from those classes at the community centre. “How about I start on the pole and then I make my way over?” She suggested with an arched eyebrow.

Ryan

Ryan absolutely loved the way 'Master' sounded coming off of Santana's tongue and the wave of power she felt when it was directed at her. It was like a form of rebranding. She went from calling someone that and now she could claim it all on her own. "I bet it does." Ryan was taught to sit a certain way and sometimes she fell back into her debutante ways, but for this particular situation, Ryan sat back, legs spread for whenever Santana worked up the courage to come forward and occupy that space. "I think that sounds like an excellent plan." Ryan pulled the speaker out of her bag and left the blue tooth open for Santana to connect her phone and start her routine. "Don't keep me waiting too long, hm?"

Santana

Santana smirked when Ryan asked her not to keep her waiting. “I would never keep you waiting Master.” She purred, leaving her spot momentarily to find ‘Needed Me’ and then returning to the metal, gripping the pole as the music started. Spinning twice more before she slid her body slowly down it, crotch pressing against the metal suggestively. As the tempo of the music climbed the brunette stripped off her hoodie,  tossing it to the side. She knew that her moves weren’t all that complex, but hyper sexual was what she didn’t best. Shedding her leggings next, she twisted into the splits. Abandoning the pole to crawl towards Ryan.

Ryan

"Mm, that's a good girl." Perhaps it was a good thing her phone got taken away. Because this interaction would have never happened. Ryan watched intently as Rihanna's voice filled the studio and as Santana acquainted herself with the pole. For someone who claimed to not have any experience, it was clear to Ryan that she knew exactly what she was doing. Santana captivated her in a way most people couldn't. When ahs approached her, Ryan leaned forward and spread her legs. "You certainly look damn good. Let's see how you feel, hm? Up on my lap, little devil."

Santana

Shit, she was a dumb bitch because that 'good girl' had gone straight to her cunt. The brunette slid her hands slowly up Ryans legs before she actually slid into her lap. "Little devil is right Master, I taste like sin." The latina purred in Ryans ear, before she turned in her lap, grinding her ass against the other girl. God this was electric and despite the setting it was somehow better than any shitty lap dance she'd ever given under club lights.

Ryan

For someone who claimed to need lessons, Santana sure did know how to work that body of hers. When she climbed into Ryan's lap and purred into her ear, the Switch couldn't help but think of all the ways she would like to bend her over and fuck her. So hard that she couldn't walk for days. Or force her down on her knees just so the Latina was at her disposal. She pressed her hands to the other girl's hips, just so she could slow down her movements and savor the feeling of Santana in her lap. "Seems to me like you didn't need a lesson at all. I think you just wanted a reason to be in my lap. Hm?"

Santana

Santana made a purring noise that she didn’t all together recognise as Ryan pressed her hands to her hips. “I mean, I’m sure you could still very much give me a run for my money. However.. I did very much like the idea of being in your lap Master. I liked the idea of being close to you full stop.” The Latina purred as she leaned up to run her hands down Ryan’s shoulders,

Ryan

There seemed to be no need for pretense as far as Santana was concerned and Ryan appreciated that. Even if is was in the confines of their own privacy. She smiled brightly at the other girl, pushing her tongue between teeth and smacking Santana's ass playfully. "Is that right? And exactly how close are you hoping to get to me, hm?" Ryan grabbed her ass fully this time, then pulled her forward as much as she could go. "Because I'm sure more than a lap dance can be arranged."

[spencerquinnofficial]

Wounded | August 2017

This is set around a month or two into his return home to Massachusetts in 2017. TW: mentions of underage sex & grooming. None of this is graphic - all just alluding.

Impulse control isn't and never has been, as one might imagine, one of Spencer's strong points. A touch is never just a touch; a glance never a glance. If ever he's tried to dip his toes into any water, he's wound up coughing and spluttering and soaked through to the bone.

Sometimes Spencer opens his mouth to say one thing, and a million other things fall out. Other times, the opposite.

"No, Spencer. Sweetheart, wear the navy one -- with the pattern." His mother is a blur over his shoulder in the reflection of his mirror. She's been hovering there for a couple of minutes (hovering in general for days) but is only now making herself known.

Downstairs, his brother is watching the TV; the sound of a live audience's laughter echoing up the stairs as he waits for Spencer and their mother to reappear or for their dad's car to pull back into the drive. He was meant to be the designated driver tonight but had convinced their father to take over the title only minutes into arriving. He's probably a beer in by now.

Spencer shakes his head, having already begun buttoning a plain blue shirt up. "I like this one, it's new," he tells her, finally turning to catch her eye without the added distance in the mirror. "You don't like it?"

His room feels so much smaller now that there's a double bed where he once had a single. 'I like the floor space,' he'd said back then. Why would he need a double bed when he was the only one sleeping in it? How terribly lonely that would feel.

His mother perches on the edge now, smiling kindly as she tells him, "I do, but I've always loved the navy one. I'm sure it'll still fit you."

"It's old." He folds his arms over his chest, already peeved. Mothers and their nostalgia.

"It's a nice gesture," Anne insists. There it is, he thinks. She knows just as well as him that-- "Oliver would love seeing you in it."

"He won't even remember it!"

She looks hurt. Lord knows why; she's not the one that bought the damn thing - he is. Just before Spencer’s eighteenth birthday along with black shoes and slacks. It wasn't a gift really - wasn't a spoil like half of the other shit he did for Spencer. No, it was for a funeral he never went to.

He takes a breath then - hadn't meant to snap at her but, God, she can be so... Fucking clueless. She's no idea what she's doing -- what his father is doing, inviting Oliver over for dinner like their reunion is worth getting dressed up and celebrating. She'd looked so pleased when she told Spencer he'd be coming, smiling like it was priceless.

Just wait until he arrives and Spencer gets a hold of him. Wait until he spills his guts and tells his family every gruesome detail of the relationship he had with Oliver. Do they know that the last time he wore that hideous navy shirt, Oliver was the one taking it off him? Now that's priceless.

"Fine," he grits, undoing the pale blue buttons hurriedly. "I'll wear the one he bought." He waits for her to say no, it's okay, not if you don't want to - wear what you like, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... But some things have changed over the past few years, and her lenience is one of them. Twenty-three years old and his mother is telling him what to wear.

They hear the front door open then, as he's shrugging off his shirt, and a sudden sense of urgency has him rushing to find the other in his wardrobe.

"That'll be them," Anne announces, standing from the bed and heading towards the door again. "Don't be long, will you?"

"I won't," Spencer mumbles. He finally finds the old shirt and pulls it off its hanger. He begins putting it on with his back to his mother, although he hears the floor creak beneath her feet as she returns to her position, lurking near the door. Glancing over his shoulder, Spencer asks, "what?"

But the door's already opening behind her, Daniel stepping into the room with a bottle hanging by the neck from his fingers. Spencer’s not sure if he and his mother just argued or if he’s the only one pissed off, but Dan mustn’t realise either way as he plops himself down in the spot Anne had just stood from. “Dad and Ollie are downstairs.”

Dan never used to call him that – Ollie. It’s not really a fitting nickname for a fifty-year-old man if you ask Spencer.

“Don’t wear that, wear your new one,” Dan says, and suddenly his mom is rambling about preparing drinks, and slipping out of the room before Spencer’s even got his shirt fastened all the way up.

“I’m old enough to dress myself, thanks,” he says, crouching now to slip his shoes on. Why on earth he needs to wear shoes for a dinner at his own house, he doesn’t know. Dan stays silent as he ties his laces, watching him in the same way that everyone seems to watch him since he came back home. “C’mon,” Spencer says as he stands again. “I’m done, let’s go.”

They leave the room together, and Spencer starts practising his speech in his head, about how every bad thing that ever happened seems to loop back around to him. How Oliver ruined his life so long ago that Spencer’s not sure he even remembers it happening. Dan’s hand squeezes his shoulder before he overtakes him to walk ahead and descend the stairs as Spencer’s mind trails off to all the times Oliver made him feel like he was mature enough to make the dangerous choices he made, whilst secretly pulling the strings. He’s not a kid anymore – he’s said it a thousand times but this time it’ll be true, and—

“Spencer!” The familiar voice pulls him from his thoughts, and Spencer’s at the bottom of the stairs somehow and Oliver is smiling wide like he just might cry. “Gosh, you—” Everybody’s watching, smiling and maybe he should bite his tongue but then Oliver laughs, and Spencer thinks fucking priceless. “You look good.”

Impulse control isn't and never has been, as one might imagine, one of Spencer's strong points. A touch is never just a touch; a glance never a glance. If ever he's tried to dip his toes into any water, he's wound up coughing and spluttering and soaked through to the bone.

Sometimes Spencer opens his mouth to say one thing, and a million other things fall out. Other times, the opposite.

"Thanks." This time is the opposite.

“Wine’s on the table,” he hears his father say like this is nothing. “Dan, another beer?”

His brother makes a pleased noise and pats Oliver’s shoulder fondly as he passes him, following Mr Quinn into the kitchen where his mom calls, “from a glass this time, Daniel!”

“Well, can I get a hug?” Spencer must have stopped walking because Oliver is the one approaching now. He says yes because if he didn’t, well, it’d be embarrassing, wouldn’t it? For everyone. And he suddenly feels so conflicted because Oliver’s arms are around him. Spencer can’t stand awkward hugs – but there’s nothing awkward about it.

His hands are shaking but he’s hugging him back. There’s nothing dark or dirty or dangerous about it. It’s fine.

Oliver turns his head and for a second Spencer thinks he might kiss him – can feel his breath on his neck. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles instead.

For what? Which part? All of it? Unlikely. Spencer would guess it was just the ending he was sorry for. The argument they had before he left Oliver’s house and walked himself to the nearest bus stop with no money, as the pieces of his phone lay scattered across the man’s bathroom floor.

“I know.” He nods.

He’s twenty-three – not a kid anymore. What good would it do anyway, giving a big, dramatic speech about the hell he put him through? And his family are in the kitchen; the only ones that really need to hear it, because Lord knows Oliver is aware of it all.

He wonders if anybody even knows the man is gay, or if he’s still sneaking around in the dark, ashamed of himself and too scared to even tell Spencer’s father – his best friend of thirty years. It's almost pitiful.

“Come on,” Oliver says as he steps back. “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

***

Oliver’s always been opinionated – overly so. It’s something that Spencer used to resent; anything he said was matched with a snarky remark – something to make him feel small and stupid and immature.

“Spencer, come on now. Your knife.” These days it’s his father’s role. He nods down towards Spencer’s place, where he’s prodding his food with his fork, knife abandoned as his other hand is occupied with holding his head as his elbow sits on the surface of the table.

“You seem tired,” Oliver chimes in, watching as he reluctantly picks up his knife, compromising the position he’d gotten comfortable in. “I bet it’s strange, isn’t it? Being back home.” He speaks in the same tone as he always did in front of Spencer’s family – sometimes when he’d realised he’d upset him too. Tonight, he’s still trying to secure his place, Spencer thinks – still trying to win him over.

Oliver’s words could be so fucking hurtful back then, but then there were these other times that Spencer, conveniently, had allowed himself to forget. Times like right now, where Spencer’s not upset at him, but at something else, and Oliver would use this tone and suddenly it all felt rational. Because when Oliver could understand his sadness, it usually meant it was valid.

He just hums, glancing around the table full of faces that all watch him with the same look, curious and concerned as if the answer isn’t obvious. “It’s so quiet,” he offers, and they all nod solemnly. He used to have to go to these group therapy sessions where he'd talk about his issues while everyone would nod and smile and pretend to care about his problems as much as they cared about their own. “It’s weird not having Arthur around. I used to—”

His father’s giving him this look. This we get the point look; this you’re oversharing look. Spencer ends his thought with a shrug and goes back to cutting up his food. He supposes they expected to hear ‘I’m just so happy to be back!’ Well. He’d expected as much.

The first few weeks at home were comforting if a little suffocating. Spencer welcomed it for a while - it was like nothing had changed until they all realised he had. He’s a worse fit now than ever. The only familiar thing he’d felt since that realisation is Oliver’s foot nudging his ankle under the table. Now that’s a laugh.

“Your boyfriend?” The man looks pleased, and Spencer’s not sure if he noticed Mr Quinn’s 'that’s enough' glare, but he doesn’t acknowledge it. “When will we meet him?”

“Soon.” He nods, a side-glance to his father who’s now trained his eyes to his own plate. “I think he’s moving out here before we find a place.”

Dan scoffs. Anne tsks at her oldest son. Oliver just keeps smiling as he says, “that’s amazing. I look forward to meeting him.”

Spencer would never have anticipated that he, of all people, would be the one to make him feel comfortable again in his own home. It’s pretty fucking tragic, really, that he’s now finding himself wondering if he should have spent more time talking about his uptight father, smothering mother and overprotective brother in therapy than he did some guy he used to hook up with on school nights.

It’s easier though, isn’t it? To tell yourself somebody is a horrible person because of the things they did, rather than admitting they simply weren't who you wanted them to be.

Each time his father frowns or his brother scoffs or his mother reverts her eyes, Oliver smiles at him and Spencer wishes he could eat up every bad word he ever said about Oliver to people the man has never even met.

That’s why he agrees later on in the night to go out for a drink with Oliver some time; because he’d been so nice and apologetic and so… Normal. Oddly normal. He knows better than to find closure in words; he knows that seeing someone change holds more weight than hearing them say that they will. Maybe they both have some proving they need to do to each other – because Oliver was just his Godfather once. It feels like the right thing to do.

***

“The right thing to do? For who, Spencer?”

He’s back in his bedroom by then, laying in his big, empty double bed, staring up at where a poster on the wall above his head peels up a little in the bottom corner. There's rustling from Arthur's side of the line that sounds like he might be getting comfortable in bed, causing the quality of his voice to dip in and out.

Oliver’s gone and whatever spell he’d put on Spencer to ground him in front of his father’s judging eyes is gone. He’s not sure if he wants to crawl out of his skin or the nearest window. It really would be so easy to book a flight and get out of there.

“Sorry,” he scoffs, rubbing his eyes tiredly. Dan’s on the landing then, calling down the stairs to their mother. Spencer whispers, “I feel like I’m stuck here again. Already. I feel like I’m juggling all these lives that aren’t allowed to… Meet.” He reaches up to pick absently at the old poster. A couple of lines peak out from beneath the paper when he pulls it away from the wall. “Will you be here by Christmas?”

[afabdisasterq]

Time Well Spent

Who: Quinn Fabray & Rachel Berry

When: 7/22 ; Morning > Afternoon

Where: Quinn’s apartment

What: Rachel brings Quinn breakfast and things get weird

Warnings: Alcohol Abuse, Rape, Abuse, Pregnancy, Miscarriage/Loss Of Child, NSFW SEXY TIMES

Rachel is over thinking this, she knows it is too much and Quinn is not looking for over the top effort but she can’t help it. She grabs different pastries and a few bagels with different spreads and she grabs two coffee and tea before making her way to Quinn and Duke’s apartment.

She dials Quinn’s number and asks for her help with the door and waits for her to let her inside.

Quinn has barely managed to change into something more comfortable when she gets the call from Rachel to let her in. Duke definitely isn't home, which isn't all that unusual. He often goes home with men and then just showers and changes at work. Instead of trekking home and then having to hurry. Which meant that it would just be Quinn and Rachel. Which was slightly terrifying but Quinn tried not to think about it.

Heading downstairs, she's quiet, even as she pulls the door open for Rachel to let her in. The other woman has definitely gone above and beyond what was even remotely required but she wasn't surprised by it. This was Rachel, overdoing it was in her blood, Quinn was sure. She takes some of it off Rachel's hands and then leads her upstairs, still quiet as ever until they finally make it to the apartment. "Guess it's good to know you're still over the top." She teases quietly.

Rachel can’t help but blush at Quinn’s comment, closing the door behind her. “I’m not sure something like that could just change about me. Grand gestures are kind of my thing.” She winks and finds a table to set her things down.

"Grand anything is kinda your things." Quinn laughs a bit, shaking her head. "What all did you even bring?" There's so much there and she can't entirely fathom what all she's looking at. Not that she minds, it means more food for later on. It's just way more than she even remotely expected.

“I got a few croissants, bagels, muffins, I think there is a scone and a donut.” Rachel laughs. “And two large coffees.” She grabs a muffin for herself and one of the coffees. “So was the night slow?”

Quinn shook her head with a laugh. Rachel had brought a truly insane amount of food. She grabbed a couple croissants and a muffin before wandering into the kitchen to grab a mug and then filled it with milk. It was too early in the morning or late at night, really, to be drinking coffee. "Extremely."

“Are you much of a tv watcher? What do you normally do with your mornings if you’re not sleeping?”

"I watch Netflix sometimes? Watch a lot of like cooking and baking shows. But I kinda blame Duke on that." She shrugs. "Days off usually see me at the library honestly. If I can't sleep I'll maybe go bug Duke at work."

“The library? What are reading at the moment?” Rachel didn’t pay much attention to cooking shoes but she does think it would be good background noise. “We could sit on the couch and watch one of these baking shows?”

"I'm not actually reading anything. It's just a good place to work." Quinn shrugs. She was working on a graphic novel, though sometimes just spent her time drawing the people she saw around her or writing random stories. All depended on how she was feeling on any particular day. "We can, yeah. If you want. But if I fall asleep on you it's not my fault."

“It is rather quiet at libraries isn’t it?” Rachel sits on the couch and sits Indian style. “I see nothing wrong with naps Quinn. Do what you need to do. I’m happy to just be here.”

"They're a little louder in the summer cos all the kids are out of school and the library tends to have programs for the kids. But ultimately, yes." Quinn joins Rachel on the couch, knees pulled up underneath her. She laughs. "I fall asleep I'm not likely to wake until dinner, and that's if we're lucky." Truth was, if she managed to sleep in the coming days she was entirely likely to sleep through work, though Duke came home early enough to be able to call her out of work and get someone to cover her, even if it meant he worked the door so the bouncer could work the bar.

“Oh, that’s right. I did a little singing thing a couple years ago at the big public library. There were so many kids. I hope they’re all doing some reading as well as finding solace.”

Rachel’s eyes widen, “So you just don’t ever sleep?”

Quinn nodded a bit as Rachel spoke. It didn't really surprise her that Rachel had done such. "Lately, yeah. I haven't slept more than an hour or two in like a week? Maybe two? Normally I'll get home from work and lay down. If I'm lucky I'll actually sleep for a bit but the nightmares have been hell lately and sleep  just hasn't worked in my favor."

“I feel like something needs to change. I don’t know what it is but I’m going to figure it out. You need to sleep eventually and it needs to be peaceful sleep.” Rachel leans over. “May I hold your hand?”

"Figure out how to get rid of the nightmares that is also affordable?" Quinn shrugged, slipping her hand into Rachel's, intertwining their fingers as she did so.

“Does your body react at all when you’re sleeping? Tossing and turning? Jaw clenching? Noises?” She softly runs her fingers over her arm with the hand not in hers.

"Duke says he hears me anytime he's here. Says he hears me crying more often than he doesn't. Says I sound like I'm in pain." Quinn flinches slightly at the feeling of Rachel's finger on her arm, almost pulls away, but doesn't. She knows she needs to learn to trust again, especially the people who have done nothing to break it.

“What does he usually do?” Rachel slows herself down, knowing she overstepped. “You are in pain.”

"He doesn't do anything. He can't. I attacked him, the first and only time he tried."  Quinn sighs, looking down at her lap. "But I can't do anything about it. That's the thing. I can't, I'm not capable enough."

“Have you tried sleeping next to him? Or anyone?” She’s not sure if anything’s accurate but she’s speaking from her heart. “Like you nap right now with me and I hold you and either comfort you back to no dreams or wake you up.”

Quinn shook her head. "We've cuddled before but I can never sleep. I worry too much. I don't want to hurt anyone and... I dream about things that make being near other people dangerous, for them. I can't deliberately do that. Put other people at risk like that." It wasn't entirely true, there had been times she'd managed it, dozed off in his arms, but she woke up to him have to hold her in place until she realized it was him. She knew Rachel couldn't do that.

“Have you ever gotten stoned?” Rachel doesn’t want to push the subject but she really wanted to try cuddling her.

"No and I don't want to. I don't like the idea of not being in control. And yes, I understand I also lose some control drinking but it's a loss of control I know and am comfortable with and actually know in what ways I lose that control."

“I wasn’t going to lecture you. I actually started smoking to get some sleep. That doesn’t help everyone.” Rachel sighs, “I really want to help you. Is there anything I could do to even make you a teeny bit more relaxed?”

"I figured that, given the fact you brought it up." Quinn sighs. "I don't think there's anything you or anyone can do. I'm fucked up and I have to deal with the consequences of trying to bottle it up. Trying to pretend none of it ever happened. Trying to pretend like I shouldn't have gotten away sooner."

“But that’s really not how it has to be. It can’t be. Nobody deserves to live with this much pain. Can I play with your hair or rub your back? I’m good at painting toes and washing hair. I will try everything if it means it might help.”

Quinn sighed, she was so tired. Talking about all this wasn't helping either. "Don't I, though? I could have gotten out. I could have walked away. But instead I held on and it took him walking out to realize how fucked up I was."  Quinn slumped a bit and then moved lay her head in Rachel's lap, adjusting their hands as she did so, so she didn't have to let go. "You're too sweet, y'know that?" She reached up with her free hand and bopped Rachel gently on the nose.

“That’s not how it works Quinn. Sure it feels that way but you were made to feel that. You’ve settled on that being the truth.” She can never stop talking. It’s no wonder she lost her voice. 

“I’m not sweet Quinn. I just really care about you.” She feels herself getting choked up

"Please, I didn't settle on shit. That's how it is, that's how it's been. Karma's a bitch and that's all this is." She grumbles. "You are sweet. Don't let anybody tell you otherwise. You caring about me is far more a side effect of that than the other way round."

“You’ve never been dealt the best hand and yet you persisted and you survived. What’s been done is not a product of you and really, neither is a lot of the things you did that you deem bad.” 

Rachel tries to lower her voice at least, but isn’t doing the best job. “I want to play with your hair please.”

"I literally took out my shit on everybody around me, for years. How can you tell me this isn't fucking karma?" She huffs and rolls onto her side, still not letting go of Rachel's hand, instead actually pulling it to her. "You have another hand. This one is mine."

Rachel just nods in compliance. Her free hand moves through the woman’s hair gently. Careful not to snag or scratch. It helps Rachel relax too. “Karma isn’t real Quinn.”

Quinn relaxes a little as Rachel's fingers start to move through her hair. "Says you."

“What does that even mean, says me?” She continues playing, happy to be this close to her.

"Says you. Just cos you don't believe in it doesn't mean it's not real. It's like God or ghosts or some shit like that." Her words are a little slurred, the sheer amount of exhaustion and alcohol in her system coming to the surface.

“Okay. That’s fair. Just relax. I really like playing with your hair it makes me feel really calm.” Rachel squeezes her hand.

Quinn just sighs, settling a little further. "Thought this was 'bout me."

“Well it is. It’s just s perk it helps me too. I would never do this for my own pleasure.”

Quinn hums a bit. While she's not 100% sure she believes her, she doesn't have the energy to argue it. Everything over the past few weeks has left her drained and the inability to sleep and the uptake in alcohol hadn't helped either.

“Do you trust me, even a little bit?” Rachel murmurs, squeezing her hand to the beat of her own heart. “Rest. If you can. I’m here.”

"I don't know. " Her words were quiet but sincere. She didn't know. While Rachel had done nothing to betray the trust she had, so much had happened that made it hard for Quinn to tell. The only person she knew she trusted with any certainty was Duke.

“Okay.” Rachel pulls away. She didn’t want to go back on any of the progress she feels she has made with her. “I’ll just sit here.”

Quinn huffs when Rachel pulls away. "Didn't say stop."

“It seems the easiest and safest way to not upset you.”

"I got into this position willingly, don't change my mind." She's huffy now.

“I’m just supposed to jump for you? Is that what you want?” She’s teasing, though she’d jump any time she was told to. “Come back.”

"You were doing the thing and then stopped because you thought I didn't want it." She'd just started to get up before flopping back into Rachel's lap, this time, facing in towards Rachel, nuzzling her stomach.

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” She murmurs, hands moving back into her hair. “I wish I could sing to you.”

"You understand the words, 'no' and 'stop' and I know how to use them when I need to." Quinn muttered as she relaxed against Rachel. "I wish you could too. I've missed your voice."

“I understand.” Rachel reassures. “I’ve missed you. I’m so grateful to be holding you right now.” She sniffles, just playing with Quinn’s hair.

"No crying on my couch." Quinn mumbled as she heard Rachel sniffle, placing a kiss to her thigh as she rolled over onto her stomach fully, head resting on said thigh. "Your lap is much more comfortable than Duke's."

“It’s because I’m just softer than he is.” Rachel giggles, sniffling again- though it’s to keep the tears at bay. “See, I can do as I’m told.”

"Most people are softer than he is, physically anyway. He's a big softie though." Quinn laughs a little. "You like being told what to do?"

“He has to be a big softie to deal with cranky Quinn.” She leans down to kiss the top of her head. “I do. But I’m not supposed to admit to that I don’t think.”

"Big softie with the ability to hold cranky Quinn back..." Quinn sighs, nuzzling Rachel's thigh. "Why not?"

“I’ve seen it with my own eyes even.” Rachel closes her eyes, still tangled in her hair. “Because I’m Rachel Berry and I’m not supposed to submit.”

"It's worse when I'm really angry. Or when I'm not all here." She taps the side of her head with a sigh. "Who came up with that bullshit?" She could understand it, sort of, but if it's what Rachel liked, what did it matter?

“That’s What friends are for.” Rachel explains, “to help you when your brain is malfunctioning. Kurt would tell you he helped me put a sweater down during my pen malfunctions.” Her nose scrunches up. “I guess I don’t want the wrong people to know that.”

Quinn chuckles placing another kiss to Rachel's thigh. "Kurt totally did that to save the sweater and not you." She teased. "Guess that makes sense. I used to enjoy it, being told what to do, at least in certain situations. Nowadays I think I'd choke some out for trying to tell me what to do."

“He said it was ugly and I had no reason to like it.” Rachel moves a hand to cup the girls cheek. “It depends on the situation for me too. I can say I’m a little lost without Jesse there to take the lead.”

Quinn laughed. "Oh gosh."  Kurt knew his fashion, that was for sure. "So maybe he was saving you, but still." Quinn moves just enough to place a kiss to Rachel's palm. Why she was so particularly cuddly she wasn't sure, but she was comfortable so what did it matter? "I guess I liked being told what to do when I could say no and be listened to."

“I love my sweaters.” She tenses just slightly. It’s weird because she feels so relaxed. “It is supposed to be like that but some people are pigs. Think they can take what they want like they’re entitled.” She’s squeezing her eyes shut. “I’m sorry.”

"Is Rachel Berry, Rachel Berry without her sweaters?" Quinn teased. She sighed as Rachel spoke, returning to peppering kisses on Rachel's thigh to keep herself distracted. "Not your fault."

“No. No I’m not.” In fact she wishes she was wearing one. “Could we maybe move to a bed? I really want to hold you.”

Quinn smirked as Rachel gave her confirmation, however, she tensed at the question. "No. Bad idea." There was a sadness in her voice,  but it really wasn't something she was comfortable with. She was getting close with Duke, but she just couldn't do it. The anxiety it always seemed to cause wasn't worth it.

“Okay.” She shifts a bit and does her best to settle comfortably.

"Sorry." She mumbles, placing yet more kisses against Rachel's thigh. Quinn knows Duke would tease her mercilessly if he saw her like this, but she was comfortable. For the first time in so long, she was comfortable.

“You’d fine. Promise.” Rachel just holds her in their own special way, eventually starting to hum.

"M'kay." Quinn isn't sure she believes her, but doesn't have the energy to mention it. Instead she continues to press kisses against Rachel's thigh every so often, but mostly she just lays there, listening at first to the silence only broken by their own breathing, and then to the sound of Rachel humming. It relaxes her and her eyes close. Content, for the first time in so long, to just be.

Rachel can’t help herself, the humming, the motion of her fingers twirling in Quinn’s hair. She sinks into the couch, really allowing herself to be in the moment.

Quinn can feel herself starting to drift. The exhaustion and alcohol catching up to her. Everything catching up to her. And she nuzzles closer to Rachel, into the crease of her hip. There is something safe about this, she'd learned that with Duke. Maybe because it was something Puck had never really done. Let her just lay like this. He'd never liked cuddling as it were. And he'd always seemed to make it sexual if she tried. But with Rachel it was different, safer. Maybe because there wasn't anything there that could remind her of Puck, maybe because she knew this was Rachel who had always been safe for her. Maybe she was just too tired to care about the what ifs. No matter the reason, Quinn could feel herself drifting off to sleep,

The abrupt silence that came from her humming having stopped; as she’d fallen asleep, is what causes her to jerk. Silence was never something she could handle. “Oh no. I’m sorry.” Rachel would have been better off sleeping- she wouldn’t be waking her up if it were the case.

The jerk had Quinn almost falling out of Rachel's lap, just barely managing to grab onto Rachel, clinging to her slightly as she tried to calm herself down. There's a faint pounding in her head and she can tell she's sobering up. But as she rolls over and re-situates herself in Rachel's lap, she sighs. "I thought I told you no crying on my couch." Her voice is a little gravely as she speaks, reaching up to bop Rachel on the nose.

Rachel helps her up, offering support behind her. “I just didn’t. I didn’t mean to cry.” She wipes at her face before rubbing the top of her head. “You were sleeping and I woke you and I’m sorry I didn’t listen.

And Quinn laughs. She can't help it. Rachel is cute and she is tired and it's the easiest reaction she has, even if it increases the pounding in her head. "You didn't do it on purpose and it's not like I was having a nightmare." She sighs. "Are you okay, though? That was one hell of a spasm or whatever."

“It just got too quiet. We’re fine. You’re fine. I think maybe you should drink some water before trying to sleep again.”

Quinn groans but sits up anyway. However, she immediately regrets her decision, holding her head in her hands. "Nope. Nope. Bad idea."

“Back down, bunny.” Rachel leads her back to her lap. “I’ll get you hydrated in a bit.”

Quinn doesn't object as she lays back down. "This is why I don't do the sobering up thing." She grumbled, rubbing her temples.

“Yeah, well. It’s happening today Quinn. Since you refused my boozy coffee.” She giggles

"Oh, I could very easily fix it." Quinn grumbles, knowing a couple swigs from a bottle in the cabinet would delay the inevitable.

“Mm, I don’t see you leaving m lap anytime soon.” She whispers. “Am I right?”

And she knows Rachel is right. If she'd been looking to not sober up she'd have done it earlier. She wouldn't have let it go this long. "Maybe. "

“I’m not surprised I’m right.” She teases

Quinn doesn't know why she thought sobering up was a good idea. Maybe she thought it would let her sleep. As if the nightmares weren't worse sober. Maybe she'd just forgotten what it felt like. She doesn't know but it's too late to stop it. "You've always liked being right."

“I have but I also like being put in my place when I am wrong. No one ever does that.”

Quinn raised an eyebrow at that. "Well that's changed since high school."

“I’ve changed since high school. We both have:” She laughs

"Have I though? Have I really?" On some level she knows she has but it doesn't feel like it some days.

“I think you have.” Rachel promises, “a lot.”

Quinn sighs, closing her eyes. Something in the way Rachel says it makes her want to believe it. Maybe it's not that she doesn't but that she doesn't want to. Still wanting to pretend like everything that happened to her hadn't changed her. Hadn't effected her to that level. Hadn't happened.

“Just rest, bunny. I’ve got you.” Rachel begins to hum again.

"Bunny?" The nickname is odd. Not that she's against it, but it's still odd. She hasn't had someone call her anything of the sort in ages, if she's ever honestly had someone call her it at all.

“Second time I’ve called you Bunny. Keep up.”

"I know, but my head was spinning too much the first time." She grumbled. "Why though?"

“It just sounded right. I can stop if it would make you more comfortable.”

Quinn hummed a bit, her answer coming in the form of her turning her head, nuzzling under Rachel's shirt and placing a kiss there.

“I like that.” She whispers, ruffling the woman’s hair.

Quinn hums against Rachel's stomach, placing another couple kisses before pulling away and rolling back onto her back to look up at Rachel. "You're nice to kiss."

“It’s because I’m soft.” Rachel leans down to kiss Quinn’s forehead. “You’re soft too.”

"Girls are always softer." She mumbled, blushing a bit at the kiss to her forehead. "M'not."

“You are, just not as soft as me.” Rachel giggles.

Quinn shakes her head. She doesn't feel soft. She feels broken and hard. Like something to fear getting too close to.

“I think you are.” She kisses the top of her head. “You don’t have to.”

Quinn closes her eyes at the kiss to the top of her head. "Why?"

“Besides the fact that your skin is soft?” Rachel raises her eyebrows. “You’ve been pretty soft with me. Always opening yourself a little to me. I’ve been very grateful.”

"Oh." Her voice is quiet and her face is pink at Rachel's words. It wasn't something she did knowingly. She just did. That was the kind of effect Rachel always had on her.

Rachel just stays quiet, enjoying the moment. It’s all she really could do.

For a while, Quinn just lays there. However, the pounding in her head is increasing and she's feeling sick. Even though she doesn't want to, she sits up. Almost immediately she's doubled over, trying to get the pain to settle again, to keep from making herself sick. "There's Tylenol, in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. Please."

“Okay, yeah.” Rachel is quick to her feet, going into the kitchen for water and then the bathroom for the Tylenol. She just grabs the bottle and is back to Quinn’s side. “Here.”

Quinn takes the bottle from her first, dumping three into her hand before grabbing the water glass from Rachel. She takes a few long sips of water before finally taking the pills. Curling into Rachel's side, she continues to drink her water. "I hate this feeling."

“I can’t imagine it is pleasant. I could get some pedialite and Gatorade and the brats diet too. Just to help your tummy settle and hydrate you so your head stops hurting.”

Quinn groans as Rachel speaks. While she appreciates the sentiment she's more aware that being left alone for long enough would see her hit a bottle. Why did that feel bad? "I'm only nauseous because of the pain. Once it lessens I'll be fine." Or so she hopes.

“Okay. I heard laying on your left side helps nauseous. We could try that.”

"Laying down in general, helps." She mumbles, finishing the glass of water before laying back down in Rachel's lap, curling around her the best she could given they were on a couch.

“Okay. We will lie here then. You’re in charge.”

"M'kay." She nuzzles against Rachel's stomach again. Kissing Rachel is the easiest distraction from the pain she can come up with.

Rachel removes a hand from Quinn’s hair so that she can start tapping her fingers together quietly in hopes of keeping herself calm. “I’ve only had one hangover in my life.” Rachel breathes out.

"Are you telling me that hangover in high school was it? I do not believe you." They'd all been hungover after that party and looking back she still couldn't believe Artie had brought a thermos of fucking Bloody Mary to school. It'd been a hell of a time and the fact Schue hadn't just killed them on the spot was a miracle.

“That party wasn’t supposed to happen that way.” Rachel sighs. “But I liked being drunk but I made sure to be prepared when I was finished and before as well. I planned my drinking out carefully after that night.”

"How was it supposed to happen, hmm?" She placed more kisses to Rachel's stomach, accidentally nipping at it when she tried to readjust a little. "M'sorry." She mumbled, immediately pressing a kiss to the place she'd bit.

“It may have been even worse. I mean I had drink tickets but people thought that was lame and then it just got really crazy.” Her body jumps in response of the bite. “It’s okay.”

Quinn chuckled as Rachel spoke. "It is lame for a party. Not so much for like a wedding, cos you don't want drunk assholes at your wedding." Quinn places more gentle kisses on the place.

“I agree. Young Rachel would disagree.” She scrunches her nose. “I like that. I’ve already said that.”

"Young Rachel also had a thing for Mr. Schue. It's easily accepted that young Rachel had very bad judgement." Quinn mumbles quietly against Rachel's stomach. "Mmhmm, s'why I'm doing it."

“He challenged me. Which I see now was not in the right ways.” She shrugs. “Don’t stop.”

"At all." Quinn agreed, varying where and how she kissed Rachel's stomach. "Don't plan on it." This time she nipped at Rachel's stomach on purpose. It's gentle and she immediately soothes it with her tongue. "What bout that?" She doesn't know why she wants to, it just makes her a different kind of happy. An in control kind of happy.

She’s feeling really confused. Trying to think through her reactions. Rachel tenses But lets out the softest moan. “That’s fine too.”

Quinn can feel that moan and pauses. It wasn't the reaction she was expecting. But she likes it. Which has her sitting up and moving to the other end of the couch. "Lay down for me?" She doesn't want to stay upright for long but she also figures she might as well let Rachel get a little more comfortable, while giving herself more access to places to kiss.

“You want me to lie down?” Rachel looks to her, looking for any sense of insincerity. “Okay. I can do that.” She carefully lies down, looking to Quinn nervously.

Quinn nods slowly at the question asked of her and as soon as Rachel is laying down she lows herself back down to lay on top of her.  She's curled in such a way that her head on Rachel's stomach, one arm draped over hips, the other holding Rachel's shirt up. And then she's back to kissing, occasionally biting and nuzzling. She still isn't sure why she's doing it, but it makes her feel a certain way and all she knows is that it's not a bad thing.

“Can I please place my hands on your back? I just need them on something.” Rachel is whispering and she’s wiggling her fingers. “Your lips are soft.”

"Mhmm," she hums her approval against Rachel's stomach before nipping at it again. "Yeah?"

Rachel relaxes when her hands finally rest on her back. “Yes. You’re giving me goose bumps.”

Quinn giggles a bit. "Oh, really?" Her kisses start to move lower, towards the waistband of Rachel's pants, the biting becoming a bit more bold and frequent.

“Yes.” Rachel whispers, a bit whiny and unsure. But having thought of this before and the fact that this is what Quinn wants. She wants to so badly accept it. “Why?”

The whiny tone in Rachel's voice is a bit exciting to her and again, she doesn't know why. The question pauses her and she looks up at Rachel. "Why what?" She thinks she knows but there's a slew of foreign feelings going on and she isn't entirely clear and just wants to be sure.

“Why are you causing me to feel like this?” She shivers just slightly. “I don’t want to talk anymore.”

"What?" The explanation is very confusing for Quinn and she stops what she's doing. "I can't understand if this is good or not." And she refuses to go further without knowing.

“It’s perfect.” Rachel says after a moment. “Please.”

With that confirmation she continues, biting and kissing along Rachel's waistband. Part of of her wants to go further and it surprises her. She hadn't felt any kind of lust since she'd miscarried. Since she started drinking. She pushes the thoughts down and continues to kiss and bite up and down the expanse of Rachel's stomach before her.

Rachel’s hands settle again on her bag, slowly starting to draw small circles on the woman’s back. “Okay?” The whine is back, unable to keep it away.

Quinn chuckles against Rachel's stomach at the whine she hears in her voice. "Never known you to whine unless you wanted something" She mumbles, the hand across her hips running a nail in circles just above her waistband. "So, what do you want?"

“I just want what you’re comfortable with. It just, feels really, really nice.”

"Lower?" She mumbles, hooking a finger under Rachel's waistband. Quinn looks up at Rachel, wondering if she'll get the go ahead.

Rachel takes a deep breath, but nods her head slowly. “Yes Quinn.” She flushes, fingers stilling on her back.

And like that, Quinn is re-positioning herself, staying as low as possible to keep her head from spinning too much. She pulls Rachel's pants down, gulping a bit at the prospect. With Rachel's pants pulled out of the way she bites her hip, much harder than she had been biting her stomach.

It’s bold. Bolder than she expected and she swallows down the nervous lump. But she helps by lifting up so her pants come off easier. But then she’s bitten and she has to close her eyes as she yelps.

The yelp surprises her and she immediately lets go. Quinn presses kisses and licks gently at the place she bit. "Sorry."

“No, I liked it. I’m okay.” Rachel promises, a bit embarrassed.

Quinn smiles, nuzzling Rachel's hip  as she continues to places kisses on the spot. She's partially aware that it's going to leave a mark but Rachel likes it and that makes her do the exact same thing to the other hip.

Rachel anticipates it, but finds herself biting down on her lip anyways and let’s herself appreciate that she too likes things to be even.

This bite is held longer, with just a bit of sucking before she's once again pulling away to kiss and lick the mark, with just a bit of nuzzling. Once she's satisfied with her care of it, she moves lower, biting and nipping at Rachel's thigh as she rakes her nails down the other.

Rachel’s thighs instantly press together in response, but the noise that leaves her is one of pleasure and nothing else.

Quinn chuckles. "You like that?" She mutters, dragging her teeth down the top of Rachel's thigh.

“I do.” Rachel tells her, reminding herself she needs to tell her these things. “A lot Bunny.”

Quinn grins, swapping thighs to run her teeth down the other as well. Once again she bites and licks, her hand raking her nails down the thigh she'd just left. In a bold move she bites just on the inner part of Rachel's upper thigh, oh so close to her underwear. It's still a tentative bite, wanting to gauge the reaction before doing more.

Her hips buck just slightly and she tries to close her thighs again in hopes of some relief.

Quinn bites down harder as Rachel tries to close her thigh, hand slipping to hold them open ever so slightly. It's a gentle hold, one that could very easily be overpowered if Rachel truly wanted to. "Do you want something from me?"

“I do.” Rachel relaxes again as she closes her eyes. “I’m feeling rather naughty and I need to touch...”

"Need to touch where?" Quinn purred, nudging Rachel's underwear with her nose. "Here?"

Rachel’s hand abruptly moves from Quinn’s back to cover her mouth to muffle the desperate whimpering. “Yes.” And she’s trying to keep herself from pressing against her.

Quinn looks up at Rachel from between her legs, a little too aware of just what the sound of Rachel whimpering is doing to her. It's a foreign feeling but its also so familiar to her. "Don't quiet yourself for me." It's not quite a demand but is certainly a strong suggestion. She uses her hands to pull Rachel's legs apart just a bit more, nipping at the crotch of her underwear with a grin.

It takes a moment to register but once she does her hand leaves her mouth. “Are you teasing me on purpose?”

Quinn chuckles at Rachel's question. She runs her nose up the crotch of Rachel's underwear before looking at her. "Whatever gave you that idea?" There's amusement in her voice but she almost immediately presses her tongue into the area where she guesses Rachel's clit is.

Rachel nods. She never minded begging and being teased. “It’s not very nice of you.” And she moans at the slight pressure against her clit. “Hmmph.”

"I think you like it." Quinn growls, nipping once again at Rachel's crotch. She moves back up Rachel's body until her teeth find the waistband of her underwear. Lifting her head, she pulls the waistband away from Rachel's body before letting it go, eyes on Rachel's face the entire time, wanting to see any and all reactions.

“A lot.” Rachel whimpers before she’s gasping at the sudden space between them. But then there’s s slight sting where the elastic hits her and her toes curl. “Please touch me.”

She loves the reaction she gets from Rachel and she begins to kiss and bite her way up Rachel's body. Her hand does oblige Rachel, slipping past the crotch of her underwear to tease her clit. "Like this?"

Quinn just keeps getting further away and she whines just before the hand slips passed her underwear. “Yes Quinn.”

Something about the way Rachel whines tells Quinn that she's not quite giving Rachel what she wants. And she relishes in that. Knowing she has Rachel wanting something specific but keeping it from her, for now. There's a power she hasn't felt in a very, very long time. Her fingers tease through Rachel's folds, flicking over her clit as she finds herself at Rachel's neck. "May I?" She whispers against Rachel's ear, seeking permission and sounding far smaller than the rest of her actions portrayed, nuzzling her neck gently.

“Oh Bunny.” She wiggles to get closer to her hand. “Yes please. Please, please.” And she’s practically begging. “I want you to want me.”

Her response is instead to kiss Rachel. The sudden motion upwards also lending itself to her slipping a finger into Rachel. Quinn is a little shocked by her own actions, almost immediately returning her face to the crook of Rachel's neck.

“But I’d like to keep kissing you.” Rachel numbest breathing a bit heavy. “More, like that.” She pleads with her

Quinn is surprised by Rachel's words, entirely having thought she'd done something wrong. But after nuzzling Rachel's neck a bit, more for her own sake than anything, she returns to Rachel's lips. This kiss is soft and slow and sweet. Her finger works slowly back out and the  back in, teasing.

Rachel just enjoys it, trying to memorize the feel of the other woman’s lips. The taste, the feel of her heartbeat, trying to let out her own sounds of pleasure out while maintaining the kissing.

Quinn ignores the part of herself that aches a way she hasn't since she was pregnant. It won't do her any good to acknowledge it now. Though in her ignoring she realizes the ache in her head is mostly gone, even if the ache elsewhere is entirely too strong. Even still, she kisses Rachel slow and soft. When she pulls away to breathe her head once again falls into the crook of Rachel's neck, nuzzling there. It's something that makes her feel safe, some part of her realizes, and with a few kisses to Rachel's neck she's biting down, taking the opportunity to speed up the finger inside Rachel.

She’s not surprised at the urgency, the meaning, and time given in every kiss. Every nuzzle. She whines more at the bite and her body lifts again, reacting to the intensity of it all. “You’re going to.” Rachel tried to breathe, calm herself. “It feels so good.” She finally managed

Quinn grins, teeth still on Rachel's neck. As she lets go, starting to lick and soothe the bite mark, she adds a second finger. Her thumb runs over Rachel's clit and an idea pops into her head. It's a control she's not sure Rachel will let her have but it's a shot worth taking. "I'm going to what? Make you cum?" She teases out against Rachel's neck as she kisses her way up to her ear. "What if I say you can't? Hmm? Will you do as I say?"

“I can’t control it.” She whispers, wiggling as best she can to somehow get away and get closer to her at the same time. “What if I don’t?”

Quinn chuckles a bit, nuzzling the side of Rachel's neck, just below her ear. "I know, but will you try anyway? Will you try to wait for me to tell you that you can?" She kissed Rachel's neck, soft and slow. "If you don't, you don't. And it's okay."

“I’ll do what I’m told.” She promises, moving so that she can kiss the girls arm. Just something to get her closer.

"Good girl." She purrs against Rachel's ear. "Can I call you that? Can Bunny call you her good girl?" She isn't sure why she referred to herself in the third person, much less as Bunny, but she isn't against it. Some part of her knows Bunny is just between them. Her pace between Rachel's legs picks up, even as she moves to use her knees to support herself so the hand that had been helping to support her can move up under Rachel's shirt.

Rachel tried to turn her head so the blush she feels rising to her cheeks is hidden. “Only if you really think I’m a good girl.” She whispers. She’s shivering beneath her touch. “You’re going to tease me if you touch me up here.”

Quinn smiles as Rachel tries to hide her blush. "You're good at doing what you're told." She kisses her way across Rachel's throat to the other side, letting out a chuckle. "All those years of having to do things on cue have trained you well, haven't they?" She bites down on Rachel's neck, even as her hand continues to inch it's way higher under her shirt. "Haven't you figure it out? I like teasing you." She nuzzles Rachel's neck, licking and kissing the skin she'd marked. "Do you want me to taste you?"

Rachel is just trying to quiet herself, starved of touch and lust and actually feeling good. She nods at the question. “It’s like I was trained to accept commands.”

Rachel’s thighs close in on Quinn’s hand, too much pleasure running through her at that mention. “What happens if I cum without permission?” She sniffles

Quinn hums. "That you were." She let's out a chuckle at the way Rachel's thighs close. "Is that a yes? Is that where you want my mouth?" She nuzzled Rachel's neck, her hand still going between her legs as the other finds Rachel's breast and gives it a squeeze. "We try again later. Practice makes perfect, after all." That's one thing Quinn can't do, punish. It's one step too far for her.

“Yes please. Please.” And her legs are open again and Quinn doesn’t seem to get angry at her question. “Then yes please, Bunny.”

Quinn smiles, pulling her hand out of Rachel and hooking her fingers through the crotch to actually pull then down her legs and out of the way. She sits back, taking the time to lick the slick off her fingers, moaning at the taste of Rachel on her fingers. And then she was running her tongue through Rachel's folds, moaning around her clit.

Rachel lifts herself up a bit to make it easier to get her underwear off. Her eyes are locked on Quinn, biting down hard on her lip at the sound that left her lips. 

Her body relaxes as Quinn moans into her and her fingers start digging into the couch.

Quinn's hand took hold of Rachel's hip, as she slowly inserts her tongue into Rachel. Her pace is slow, every once in a while pulling out all the way to flick her tongue over Rachel's clit. She's looking up at Rachel through eyelashes and pink hair. She wants to see her come undone. The hand on Rachel's chest slowly starts to rake back down towards her hip.

It’s the unpredictability. The change between fingers and tongue. Rachel really is trying to control herself, her body tense and there’s tears stinging behind her eyes. 

“I’m sorry.” And she unclenches, relaxing as she tumbled over the edge. Her hand goes to cover her mouth to quiet the crying.

Quinn ignores the apology as she feels Rachel come. Instead she focuses on helping her ride it out. When she pulls away, she cleans her face off the best she can and then pulls the hand away from Rachel's mouth, giving it a squeeze. She crawls back up Rachel's body and settles herself on top of her, kissing the tears away. "Hey, c'mon now, no need to cry." She nuzzles Rachel's cheek.

The minute Quinn is back beside her and this time does the nuzzling into her body, shaking just slightly. “but I didn’t let you control it.”

Quinn just nuzzles her cheek, kissing it softly. "And I said that was okay if you couldn't."

“I really wanted to.” She hmmphs, cupping her face. “Okay. It’s okay.”

Quinn smiles as Rachel cups her face, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on her lips. "Exactly. It's okay."

“It’s okay.” She murmurs back to Quinn, for both of them. “Can you keep kissing me?”

"Of course." And that's what she does, she keeps kissing Rachel. Because kissing is an excellent distraction. Kissing keeps her mind off the ache between her legs. Keeps her mind off the fact she hasn't had a drink in hours, that she's essentially sobering up. That she isn't numb for the first time in almost a year.

Rachel just clings to her, afraid if she lets go Quinn will run away. Or she will to be in charge of the leaving. “Mm, love you bunny.” Rachel murmurs against her shoulder and places little kisses to distract.

Quinn just keeps kissing. The words surprise her and she can't say it back, so she nuzzles into Rachel's neck. It's the closest thing she has. It's affection in it's purest form. The little kisses on her shoulder make her smile and she reaches for the remote on the coffee table. She pulls up Spotify and selects her and Duke's usual playlist. She lowers the volume, just needing that background noise, before she sets the remote back down.

The music calms hers, her rapid heart beat slowing down. She’s never actually felt this relaxed before within her body and even her mind isn’t racing. “I’m sleepy.”

Quinn is comfortable and she settles to just nuzzling Rachel's neck as she hums along quietly to the music. "Sleep then." She mumbles against Rachel's skin with a kiss.

“And you’re not going to stop kissing me?” She really lets her eyes flutter closed. “And hold my hand?”

"Not on purpose, no." Quinn knows she might drift off, but she'd try her best to stay awake. "Of course." She takes Rachel's hand, pressing a kiss to her palm before entwining their fingers.

Truthfully it’s the answer she wanted. She wants Quinn to get some sleep. “Thank you Bunny.”

"You're welcome." Quinn settles down, peppering kisses on Rachel's neck and shoulder, still humming along to the music. Just happy to be there in the moment.

Rachel lets out the tiniest little sighs and whimpers until they turn to soft little snores. She really lets herself get comfortable with Quinn.

Quinn continues to kiss and nuzzle Rachel, even as the sighs and whimpers turn to snores. But soon, even Quinn starts to slip into sleep. It's not deep, but it's enough. 

Around lunch time, Duke comes home. It's not entirely unusual, as he does it to check on Quinn. What he doesn't expect is walking into the living room to the sight of Quinn asleep on top of Rachel, much less a half naked Rachel. "Oh my gods." He mutters before clearing is throat. "I don't want to know what happened, nor do I care, but for fucks sake put your pants back on!"

The sudden sound of Duke's voice wakes Quinn. She's quickly sat on her knees on the couch, breathing heavy. Looking up over her shoulder at the man and then down at Rachel she swallows. The reality of what she'd done crashes into her and she isn't sure how to respond.

Rachel doesn’t know much about what is going on or how long she’d been asleep but she does know that Quinn isn’t as close as she was. “Come back, bunny.”

Duke giggles, eyeing Quinn with a devilish grin. Quinn flips him off and shakes Rachel's leg. "It's time to wake up, Rach." Quinn's voice isn't steady. Duke sighs and heads into the kitchen.

Rachel groans, sitting up. She didn’t tend to nap and she doesn’t like being woken up. “Fine.” She looks to her noticing he didn’t look as comfortable as before. “What is it?”

Quinn sighs as Rachel sits up. "I don't know how you didn't hear it, but Duke is here. And he would like you to put your pants back on." She can't look at Rachel and she feels oddly small. The reality of everything that had happened has settled on her fully and she's starting to retreat into herself.

“Oh.” Rachel pales, reaching down to grab her underwear and pants. “I didn’t. I’m sorry.” She just stares at her. “Should I leave? Are you okay?”

"Yeah..." Quinn sighs, rubbing her thighs a little. "It's not your fault, I didn't know either." She was rocking a little as sits there. "Do you want to?" Quinn doesn't want her to leave. She'd been so comfortable. She was sober and comfortable and had slept. "I don't know. I'm sober."

“I don’t want to leave you.” Rachel whispers, reaching for her hand to squeeze. “Coffee or a snack?”

"Okay." Quinn smiles at Rachel. She squeezes back, not really wanting to get up and face Duke in the kitchen. "Snack." Her voice is still quiet and a little shaky, but she's stopped retreating into herself. For now.

“Okay.” Rachel nods slowly and goes into the kitchen. She grabs her cold coffee and a few of the treats, offering some up to Duke as well.

Quinn curls up on the couch where Rachel had been. Duke is making a sandwich when Rachel walks in the kitchen and he smiles. "I don't want to know what happened, but thank you. I haven't seen her that calm, ever. It's nice to know she can still get comfortable." He accepts the offer of the pastries, never one to deny sweet things.

She’s blushing, thankful for his words. “I’m glad she finds comfort in me.” Rachel murmurs and hands him a couple of the treats she had picked up. “Thank you for taking care of her.” And with that she’s back at Quinn’s side. “Hi.”

Duke simply nods in thanks as Rachel leaves. Quinn looks up when Rachel returns but doesn't actually make a move to sit up. "Hi." Her voice is quiet and she feels a little distant. "I don't like this." She mumbles, tapping the side of her head.

Rachel sets the things down and sits beside her. She doesn’t embrace her or get too close, but tries not to be too far either. “What can I do? More medicine? Water? A hug?”

"Just hold me?" Her voice is small and quiet. She doesn't want to think. She just wants to be able to distract herself. Do anything but feel the overwhelming sadness she's used booze to ignore. Drowning her grief, and herself. And finding the surface has just brought the storm with it.

Rachel is holding her almost instantly. Breathing in her scent and rubbing her back. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Quinn buries her head in the crook of Rachel's neck, immediately starting to press gentle kisses to the bruised skin. "You're gonna need some serious concealer over the next like week if you plan on going out in public." Quinn mumbles as she nuzzles her.

“I don’t have plans. Should I care that they are there?” Rachel just pulls her closer. “I don’t.”

"I don't know, some people don't like getting asked about hickies. Particularly single people." Quinn shrugs. She nuzzles in a little harder, trying to focus on the feeling. However, with the added pressure, her nose ring tickles the inside of her nose and she's having to pull away to sneeze.

“You make a cute sound when you sneeze.” Rachel giggles. “Did the nose ring hurt?”

Quinn blushes, ducking her head. "Not really, no. At least not at first. I couldn't rub my nose for ages without wincing while it was healing."

“That sounds annoying.” Rachel rubs her back. “You pull it off well.”

"No worse than the first time." Quinn shrugs a bit. She rested her head back in the crook of Rachel's neck, once again nuzzling. "You think so?"

“Right. And that crazy tattoo?” Her eyebrows raise a bit, playfully. “I do. I think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, even.”

"Has been covered up. And isn't my only one." Quinn explains, nuzzling at Rachel's neck. She catches sight of Duke leaving but ignores him. "Why?"

“One day I would love the chance to see them.” Rachel says gently as she offers a wave to Duke as he leaves the apartment. “You’ve always been enchanting to me Quinn. Always so stunning and beautiful inside and out. I don’t think I’ll ever stop thinking of you that way.”

"Maybe, yeah." Quinn nuzzles against Rachel's neck. She also feels the heat rise to her cheeks as Rachel speaks. Sure, she knew she fit a certain standard of beauty, but something about hearing Rachel explain it was surprising to her. She places a kiss to the side of Rachel's neck. "Thank you."

“No pressure.” Rachel says with a giggle. She shivers a bit at the kiss and just nods. “Always Bunny.”

"I really don't like being sober, but you're a very nice distraction." Quinn mumbles as she keeps kissing Rachel's neck.

“I’ll be your distraction forever if that will help.”

"You sound like you're agreeing to enable me." She mumbled, knowing she'd go from booze to Rachel and that didn't exactly sound healthy either.

“I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. I just like your attention.”

Quinn chuckles a bit against Rachel's neck. "To be sober is to need distractions." She clarifies. "So if you're my distraction I'd be sober but not dealing."

“I want to help you deal.” She whispers

"I don't know how to do that." She admits, resting her forehead on Rachel's shoulder. "I don't know how to talk about what happened."

“We take our time. Little by little. And I’ll just be here to hold your hand and snuggles and kisses.”

Quinn sighs. "Her name was Nora Grace." She admitted quietly with a kiss to Rachel's shoulder, feeling infinitely lighter, even as the emotion felt heavy on her chest.

Rachel just nods slowly, understanding as best she can. “That’s a beautiful name Quinn.”

"I was almost five months. She's just started being properly active." And so had Finn. They'd both been so active. Nora had been more forward, whereas Finn had been more internal. But she'd just started telling their reactions apart. And then things had fallen apart. "I'd waited to tell Puck until I was absolutely sure. He made me regret telling him."

“Because he didn’t. I mean...” Her nose scrunches up. “What did he do?” She pulls Quinn in closer.

"When?" The question fell from her lips and she sighs. "When he left? Or before? He did so much. So- so much."

“He left?” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Did he hurt you?”

"Worst part is, his leaving was the best thing he could have done for me. As much as I fucking hated the idea of going through pregnancy alone, I knew I'd be better off. And I was just trying to get back on my feet when I first ghosted. I just needed to come to terms with it all. Figured I'd take a couple months for myself." She nuzzles her face into Rachel's neck. "Yes."

Rachel is keeping herself calm but on the inside she’s absolutely raging. “You didn’t deserve that. You’re too good for him.”

"And yet I stayed with him, for years. The best parts were when he was deployed and I was alone. How fucking shitty is that?" Her breathing catches in her chest and instead of biting her lip, she bites Rachel's neck.

Rachel whines, “You wanted it to work. It’s not a flaw. You’re human.”

"I never understood how my mother could stay with Russell until I was with Puck."

“I don’t think it’s easy being in that dynamic to know how to get out or how to move on. You did what you could.”

"I had decided I might leave him anyway. Because I couldn't see myself raising a family with him but every time I'd thought about leaving, before then... It was easier to just give in and give him what he wanted."

“I’m sure it was easier. I don’t blame you, for anything that happened. Maybe one day you’ll get to a place you can see that for yourself.”

"I should have fucking left after the first time." Quinn bit down on Rachel's neck. It's not a hard bite, but she holds it, breathing heavily through her nose, trying to calm herself down.

“The first time?” Rachel just lets out the slightest whine in response to the contact. She likes it.

She let go of Rachel's neck, licking and nuzzling the bite mark. "Well, no, because the first time was in high school. But, the first time after we'd started dating." It had taken Quinn a long time to properly admit what Puck had done to her in high school had been force, but once she had, it made way too much sense.

Rachel nods, trying not to bump her. “I’m sorry that I didn’t know or if I ever made you feel like I was on his side.”

"I didn't realize it, or acknowledge it, for a very long time. I could't." Quinn's voice is quiet as she nuzzles Rachel's neck. "What I did earlier... before we fell asleep..."

“But you’re opening yourself. You’re doing everything right.” Rachel puts a hand on her back. “You regret it...”

"Am I? I don't feel like I am." Quinn sighs. "No... I just feel like I need to be sorry for it."

“I think you have so much.” Rachel whispers. “You don’t have to be sorry about it.”

"Okay." She nuzzles against Rachel's skin. "Are you sure? I mean I started doing stuff and..."

“It was perfect Quinn. I thought you were perfect.” Rachel sighs happily.

She nipped a bit at Rachel's neck. "You thought I was perfect?"

“I thought you were perfect, bunny.” Rachel repeats.

"Am I your bunny?" Quinn asks as she nuzzles Rachel's neck again, licking a bit as she does so.

“I’d like for you to be my bunny.” Rachel whimpers.

"What would that entail?" She asks quietly.

“I just always get to be nuzzled  by you and hold you.”

Quinn hums in approval at that. "Yeah? What about nibbling?" She asks, doing just that against Rachel's neck.

“It’s just a bonus when you feel like nibbling.” Rachel takes a heavy breath. “And biting...”

Quinn hums against Rachel's neck, biting down as Rachel mentions that she likes it. "If anyone asks, what'll you tell them?"

“Asks me what?” Rachel’s eyes close. “Mmmph.”

"Who did all this to your neck." She drags her tongue over the forming bruises and bite marks, connecting them.

“Why is it anyone’s business? What would you like for me to tell them?”

"I'm not saying it is, but we know they're bound to ask anyway." She hums, still lazily running her tongue across the marks. "I don't know."

“I don’t care. I like it. I like that you made them. I like how it feels when you make them.”

Quinn smiles against Rachel's neck, licking her way up to Rachel's ear.  "You like what I do to you?" She whispers.

“I think I’m obsessed.” Rachel bites down on her lip. “I don’t want it to ever stop.”

She chuckles, nuzzling the area around her ear. "Maybe I won't. I mean, you said you don't have plans. I could, except y'know, work." She teases, dragging her teeth down her neck.

“I’ll never tell you to stop.” Rachel admits.

Quinn pulls back at that. "You would if you needed me to, right, though?"

“Yes, Bunny.” Rachel gasps ya the loss of contact. “I know you would stop.”

"Okay." Quinn nods before leaning in and kissing Rachel. "If I asked you to touch me, would you?" She wants to know because she still aches there. It'd started creeping up on her again and the more she made her mark on Rachel, the more it'd come back. And it was getting increasingly harder to ignore.

“I would love to touch you, so long as you could tell me no of you needed.”

"I always said no." She admits quietly, resting her forehead on Rachel's.

“I will listen to that.” Rachel whispers. “I will respect you and your word.”

Quinn closes her eyes for a moment before kissing Rachel again. "Touch me. Please."

“Where?” Rachel starts with fingers running over her cheek and just teasing over her lips.

Quinn gently bites her lip. "Down." She whimpers, not entirely sure she can bring herself to say exactly where. She hasn't had any desire for sex in ages and yet she wants it now, so much more than she ever expected.

Rachel just nods, leaning down to kiss her as hand travels down and across her chest. She sneaks a hand under the fabric and kneads her breasts tenderly before swiping a thumb over her nipples. “Can you sit up for me, Bunny?”

Quinn gasps at the feeling of Rachel's hand on her breasts, moaning ever so slightly. She quickly does as is asked of her, bottom lip caught between her teeth.

“I’m going to touch you now.” She purrs, getting between her legs. “If you’ll let me. I’d like to make you come.” And she lets s finger run through her folds.

Quinn sucks in a breath at Rachel's words. A moan escapes her lips at the feeling of Rachel's finger running through her folds. "Oh God." She hasn't felt this since the last time she'd gotten herself off while pregnant and after almost a year of not feeling anything, it's almost too much.

“Should I keep going?” Rachel moves up to brush over her clit because pausing.

"Fuck," she gasped as Rachel brushes her clit, head falling back. "Please," she whines.

Rachel can’t help but smile, peppering kissing along her face and neck as she teases her finger inside her before swiping the wetness over her clit and she does that slow at first and then quickening a bit. “Can I put two fingers inside you?”

Quinn can't help but moan, hips rolling into Rachel's hand. "Fuck. Please." She doesn't reckon she'll last too incredibly long, everything feels so extreme after so long. But lord does it feel good.

Rachel feels like she’s on fire as she begins moving two fingers inside her, calculated and teasing before she’s really moving inside her, other hand moving to circle her clit. “You feel so good around my fingers.”

Even though she knows it's coming, she can't stop herself from moaning as her hips buck into Rachel's hand. One of her hands finds Rachel's hair, nails scraping across her scalp. "Been so long," she mutters.

“I wanna feel you come. You deserve it.” And Rachel is moaning at the fingers in her hair as she begins to really fuck her with her fingers. “Come for me Bunny,”

Quinn isn't sure she believes what Rachel says but that doesn't stop her from moaning and pulling at Rachel's hair. The increased pace drives her wild, rolling her hips in an almost futile attempt to keep pace, something she had done when she was with Puck just to get something out of it, but her hips still at Rachel's words. And in no time, Rachel is driving her over the edge. "Oh, oh God."

Rachel takes it all in. The way she moves. The sounds. All of the feelings that being let in like this has provided. “Thats it Bunny. Feel good. Let yourself feel good.” And she moves faster a little more intensely in hopes to give her the most pleasure she can possibly have.

Quinn almost feels like she's going to pass out because of the sheer amount of pleasure. It's been so long since someone else has put her first, made what she feels a priority. And just when she thinks she'll start to come down the increased pace takes her back up and over. She's having to remind herself to breathe through it which just seems to make her feel more. "Okay," she breathes out, unsure exactly what she means by it.

Rachel swipes her hand on Quinn’s thigh before leaning in to kiss her gently. “Was that okay? Are you okay? You feel incredible falling apart like that.”

Quinn has to catch her breath as Rachel pulls out of her. She kisses Rachel back, moving to lay down on the couch, pulling Rachel down on top of her. "You were perfect." She mutters.

Rachel just giggles, missing her face and nuzzling her. “You were.”

Quinn wraps her arms around Rachel's waist, giggling a bit as Rachel nuzzles her. "Happy bunny." She mumbles sleepily, the the overwhelming expanse of emotion and sensations having finally caught up to her.

“I like a happy bunny.” Rachel whispers, letting herself relax above her. “Lets nap.”

Quinn just hums at Rachel's words, a little surprised by how comfortable she is with Rachel on top of her. She's not sure it'll stay that way, should she fall into a deeper sleep than she had earlier, but she didn't have the energy to not risk it.

“I’m just going to hold you and be here.” Rachel murmurs.

[ohprettyweeper-moved]

The Last Bandito

Part Four: Answers in the Blood

Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Quinn might have found an answer to her problems, Faylinn receives warning from someone else about her novel, and Tyler finds that his new life is not all he expected.  Warnings: Mythology lecture which includes mentions of abuse and suicide ... I think that’s it? Word Count: 1600 A/N: This series was borne of this picture. The bolded phrases are prompts I have compiled to use in this fic. Also, I’ve forgotten to mention before that for the phrases in Ukrainian, I’ve been using Google Translate; forgive me if they’re not accurate! 

“Tonight, we begin a new chapter,” Quinn announced to her class. “Irish Mythology. Turn in your books to page two-hundred and twenty-seven.”

She lectured first on banshees, then selkies. Leprechauns, of course, were in the mix, and changelings. Finally, after giving her class and herself a short break, Quinn began the section on the dearg-due. 

“This creature dates back to the Celtic era,” she informed them, hitting the clicker to switch to the slide which held information for notes and also a couple of images for the students to review. “A vampire-like creature, the dearg-due may have found its beginning in a young woman with blood-red lips and white-blonde hair. Forced into a marriage that would benefit her father with many riches and separated her from her true love, the girl took the only way out from her abusive husband: suicide.”

Quinn clicked the slide again, revealing the painting of a young girl, blood flowing from her wrists and her eyes staring at nothing. Her body was emaciated and her cheeks gaunt.

“Her husband would bleed her for no reason other than to see the blood flow. So, she starved herself. After her death, she was buried at Waterford, near Strongbow’s Tree. Though she had been kind and godly in her life, it was said that her husband’s abuse and her own suicide changed her in the afterlife. Heartbroken and vengeful, on the first night she was buried, she rose from the grave and sought to quench her thirst with the blood of young men, children, and the innocent. She calms her victims first with a siren song, and then steals their blood, leaving them mysteriously ill or dead.”

As the lecture wrapped up, Quinn opened the floor for questions. Most of them pertained to the traditionally known creatures, but one student asked as to the origin of the dearg-due. 

“Is it possible these creatures were actually the origination of the Heathens?”

Quinn cleared her throat. “I can see where you might make that connection, but remember, the vampire experiments of Old Dema began in response to the Banditos growing in numbers. I suppose it’s possible that this knowledge is available in Old Dema and was an inspiration for the Bishops and their experiments, but I can’t say that I’ve come across the connection any other time. If there’s no other questions, class is dismissed. Please do remember, your papers over chapters ten through twelve will be next week. Email me or come by my office if you have questions.”

She gathered her things and went back to her office to spend the rest of the afternoon grading. By the time she could head home, however, the stack of homework to be reviewed was not much smaller than when she had begun a couple of hours before. Her student’s question regarding the dearg-due lingered in her thoughts, though not because she had not thought of a connection between the Heathens and the dearg-due before. Instead, she wondered if perhaps the Bishops and their vampire experiments were the answer to her dilemma. 

One of her favorite songs hummed in her throat while Faylinn cooked eggs for breakfast. She was looking forward to an easy day at work, then coming home to continuing her novel. Much to Ildri’s chagrin, Faylinn had not stopped writing the plotline surrounding Old Dema. 

Not to mention, her dreams had not subsided. Though frightening more often than not, they fueled her muse and her imagination and chapters were pouring out of her. Before too long, the novel would be finished. 

Someone knocked on the door; Faylinn looked towards Ildri’s part of the apartment. All the lights were off, and Faylinn could see that the bed was already made. Sighing, she turned down the heat on the eggs and made way for the door. Her breath caught in her throat when the man who was often in her dreams stared back at her. His red eyes were frantic, and his yellow hair was in disarray. 

“What are you doing here?” Faylinn whispered. 

“You have to stop the novel,” he pleaded. “The Bishops know. They know everything. Distance doesn’t matter. They’ll come for you.”

Horse hooves sounded in the distance like thunder rumbling in a far off storm. Faylinn’s eyes slowly focused in that direction; somehow, she could already see all nine Bishops riding her way. 

“They’re coming for both of us,” he told her. 

“We have to run,” Faylinn said, pushing her feet into her shoes. 

The man shook his head. “No. You just have to stop.”

Thunder clapped loud overhead, pulling Faylinn from her most recent dream. How was it possible that the thing that had been driving her for so many weeks now was the thing that made her understand the danger of what she was doing?

“Maybe I need to see a shrink,” she muttered, pushing out of the bed and motivating toward the shower to start her day. 

But the dream stuck with her throughout her entire morning routine. By the time she was through with her eggs and her coffee, she had made the last minute decision to skip work for the day and make use of the best resource she had regarding Old Dema. 

Tyler finished his work and walked with Josh back to the Heathen district. Others — humans — took their time getting back, but Nico held no leniency in regards to his citizens returning home when their work was completed. 

“It’s been weeks,” Josh said, nudging Tyler. “You’re going to have to accept that there’s no going back.”

Tyler nodded. “I know that. But, it doesn’t stop me from wondering what’s beyond the wall. Being this doesn’t stop me from wondering what life is like in the surrounding city.”

“They call it New Dema. Sometimes, if you’re mindful, the Bishops will send you into New Dema to capture someone and bring them here to be smeared and, possibly, eventually, changed.”

“How do you know all this?”

Josh took a deep breath. “They tell you, when they know they can trust you. If you want that chance, you cannot miss any mark. You cannot question them out loud, you cannot deny their authority.”

Tyler thought that over for the rest of the walk back to his dwelling. If he played the Bishops’ game, how long would it be until he was trusted to go into New Dema? What would the task of capturing people to come here entail? Tyler had long believed that nothing good could come of new souls coming here, but he had known nothing but Old Dema for his entire life. Therein lie the problem; he could not imagine knowing something else, then coming here and being confined to the Bishops’ world. 

Being changed was supposed to heighten his loyalty to the Bishops, but instead, Tyler found himself questioning the old figures more than ever. 

When all of Dema’s inhabitants had been locked in their dwellings for the night, Keons met Nico in the sanctuary of the temple. The head Bishop waited at the altar, facing the large statue. Keons entered from the back, walking reverently toward the head Bishop. 

“You have information you’ve kept from me for too long,” Nico said, turning toward Keons, his hands clasped behind his back. 

Keons stood a little straighter. “Probach meni, bud’ laska. It was you who taught me, Nico, that knowledge is power. I was not entirely certain the information I obtained was correct —”

“Enough stalling, Keons,” Nico warned in a measured tone. He leaned forward on the stone block used for changing humans to Heathens. “Tell me what you know.”

Keons took another three steps forward. His hands balled to fists at his sides, but he stood fast in his resolve to share the information with Nico. 

“She has surfaced — the last Bandito child. She’s a woman now, of course, but I have no doubt that it’s her.”

Nico smirked. “You shouldn’t have any doubt. You are the one who let the child escape our grasp.”

Keons took a deep breath, fighting now to maintain his confidence. He had intended, those decades ago, for the knowledge of the child’s life and location to bring him into power within the walls of Old Dema; Nico was too smart for Keons. Too ruthless. He had sensed the plot from the very beginning, and had cut Keons off at the pass by informing the other Bishops the child was still alive but would be allowed to live. Anything else would undermine the authority of the Bishops. 

“When I rode out several weeks ago to retrieve an escaped vampire, I found that woman dead. Her neck was snapped and her body was there, lifeless, in Trench. The scent of the Bandito child was heavy in the air, and though I could not pinpoint her location, I knew she was near. Then, after the last soul was captured and brought into our walls before disappearing, I smelled her scent in that man’s assigned room.”

“But the room was empty,” Nico surmised. He stepped around the cement block, stopping inches in front of Keons. “She is following in the footsteps of her ancestors, and the Heathen in her aids every mission she accepts. You must find her, and bring her here. Send the new Heathen.”

“You mean …?”

Nico’s smirk rolled into a satisfied grin. “Yes. That one. I want her back here. She holds all the answers, Keons, and if we are to take down New Dema — we need answers.”

Keons bowed gracefully. “Yak vy komanduyete.”

[qzwrites]

this is my first vorkosigan saga fic and there is nary a vorkosigan in sight; kit bemoaned the lack of domestic gay ethan of athos sequels, so here i fucking am, doing the work we both deserve

---

Ethan was trying hard not to expect anything of Terrence. Terrence had already done so much for Athos, for Ethan, it seemed greedy to want more.

It was very difficult not to want more.

It didn't help that his friends and coworkers kept making insinuating remarks, about Terrence being his type, and about trading up. Why yes, thank you, he had noticed Terrence was a slim blond younger man. Yes, he was sharing his home with a nubile young adult, thanks for noticing.

It was just that sometimes, Terrence did...flirt with him. There wasn't any way to soften that, really; Terrence was pretty worldly, for all that he was nineteen. Having to be inside other people's heads probably had something to do with that. And being a lab experiment. And losing almost everyone he'd ever cared about. There were many, many reasons Terrence was a more mature nineteen year old than Ethan had been, or anyone else Ethan knew.

So Ethan couldn't believe Terrence didn't know what he was doing. After all, he even knew how attractive Ethan found him. And he wasn't exactly under any illusions as to Ethan's relationship with Janos. Despite the hostile reception Ethan had faced on Kline Station, it seemed not all galactics were so judgmental. Elli Quinn hadn't seemed particularly concerned about it, except when she was trying to drive him away, and Terrence had seemed nonplussed when it came up in conversation.

"It feels the same," he said. "I should know."

Which was a little disconcerting, to hear his feelings compared to what galactic men felt about women, or what women felt about men. It shouldn't have been, maybe; certainly his experiences in the galactic community had at least proved women were human, but it was hard to shake your entire cultural upbringing, especially since it wasn't otherwise a bad upbringing, or a bad culture. For instance, ignoring the labor that went into child-rearing, as Quinn claimed most civilizations did, seemed shortsighted and ignorant, as well as impractical. It was much easier to plan for things you acknowledged, in Ethan's experience. Trying to ignore them did not actually fix them.

And perhaps it was just prejudice speaking, but Athos was much homier and comfier than a station, or a starship, or the endless underground corridors of Beta. Escobar had looked nice, but it had also looked very busy and crowded, which didn't seem relaxing. Athosian society needed work, and rewarded work, but it was important to take vacations and have leisure time as well. It was part of a balanced life, and a balanced society. And so much of Athosian work was so concrete, and satisfying. Ethan could watch the fetuses grow into babies, hand them off to joyful fathers, see what he did and how it changed the world around him. His father could watch the fish grow, count the fish he sold, share a meal with someone who bought from him if they chose. He was sure the work people did in the office buildings of Escobar felt important and made a contribution, but he liked being able to see the accomplishments of his brothers.

So he certainly wasn't willing to throw the baby out with the bathwater on his home planet's culture, but...he could admit there was, perhaps, a little extra bathwater. It still felt strange to hear his feelings for Janos, or even his feelings for Terrence, compared to the feelings of, of Quinn's cousin Teki to his female lover.

So sometimes, Terrence did flirt with him, and he knew what he was doing, and it wasn't intellectually confusing, necessarily, but it was a bit of an stormy sea, emotionally. And it wasn't made any easier by living with him; it was like being a teenager again, with Janos walking around all cute and flirty and Ethan not being entirely sure he should notice or think anything of it, but not being able to avoid it. When he woke up, Terrence was sleepily coming out of the bathroom, with bedhead and the slightest shadow of stubble. When he came home from work, Terrence waved at him from the garden, which he had added vegetables to go along with the flowers, or offered him the leftovers of whatever he'd had for an afternoon snack, or told him about helping a child in the park with his kite while on a walk. And when it got late, when they stayed up after dinner to talk, or went to see a show, or stopped by at the festival the community school was hosting, Terrence would laugh, or smile, and look content in a way Ethan had not seen him look at all on Kline Station, or when talking about any part of his past that wasn't Janine.

It was impossible not to think about kissing him, when he did things like that.

Ethan had almost put off having his first son until he moved to the new Rep Center they were building in the mountains, but Terrence had convinced him not to. "You were so excited to get back for him," he said. "And he'll have me when you get busy." He smiled and said, "Besides, didn't you say being Primary Nurturer for someone else's sons was the fastest way to earn my own?"

So every day at Sevarin was even more exciting now. Ethan certainly never got bored of his job, and it had been a relief to return to it after so long off-world, but his excitement over the development of the fetuses in his care was no longer simply that of the doctor in charge. He was the doctor in charge and one of the fathers, and he was more than twice as excited, for rather than adding up, the excitement seemed to multiply.

When Ethan got home after work, 21 weeks into his first son's development, he all but threw open the front door and announced, "He moved today!"

Terrence looked up from his reading, and smiled. "That's wonderful," he said, sincerely. He turned off his tablet and set it aside. "Did you get to see it?"

"No," Ethan admitted. He set down his bag and shrugged out of his jacket. "It was between my rounds. But I did spot it on the records before the tech," he said. He sat down on the couch next to Terrence. "So I suppose you could say I discovered it."

"Aw," Terrence said. "That's nice, at least."

"Yeah," Ethan agreed, and bent over to unlace his shoes.

He'd just pulled one shoe off when Terrence said, "So we should have sex."

Ethan wasn't sure how those thoughts were connected. He loosened the laces on his remaining shoe. "Er," he said.

"I know you're trying to be considerate and patient," Terrence said, and of course he did, he didn't go out of his way to avoid foods with tyramine. "Which is sweet. I appreciate it. But I don't think I'm going to get any more ready."

Ethan set his shoes off to the side and sat up. He looked at Terrence, who was watching him, gaze steady and calm. He did not look like Ethan's idea of a nineteen year old who had just propositioned someone. He knew for a fact he himself had never looked so self-possessed immediately after coming onto someone when he was Terrence's age. "I didn't mean you had to be in a relationship with me in order for me to help you," Ethan said.

Terrence smiled. "I know you didn't," he said, and the fond way he looked at Ethan made his heart leap into his throat. "But you did make it sound like a very appealing option." He shifted his legs under him, so he was leaning toward Ethan instead of away, and rested his head on Ethan's shoulder. "I was worried if I waited any longer, I would put you off forever. It's probably best to take advantage of my teenage libido and ensure we're fully pair-bonded by the time your son is born."

Ethan laughed. "Well, that's not very romantic," he said.

Terrence raised his head from Ethan's shoulder and looked up at him. This close, his intense eyes were almost overwhelming. He said, "You were the first person besides Janine to acknowledge my humanity. You were the first person ever to think I could do anything but hurt people." He put a hand on Ethan's thigh and smiled again. "Is that romantic enough for you?"

Ethan kissed him, of course; what else could he do?

[wheresmynaya]

Two Ghosts Ch. 24 | Brittana

So my heart has felt incredibly heavy over the past week and I honestly didn’t think that I would be able to write so soon, yet here I am with a whole ass chapter. Naya and her portrayal of Santana are both extremely important to me and this is just my way of honoring Naya’s legacy. 

 Available on FFN (x) AO3 (x) & below the cut

It’s that time of the school year now where the kids are pretty worn down and have mostly stopped paying attention to anything anyone of authority says, but Santana isn’t complaining. With Sectionals over and Winter break around the corner, everyone – including the coaches – have started counting down the days. She’s thankful for the moment she doesn’t have to spend so much time on the Cheerios, even if it’s just for a few weeks, because a freed up schedule means she can spend more time doing things she wants to do.

Today, that happens to be ice skating...apparently.  

Santana didn’t actually want to do it, but when practice finished and Quinn rushed off with plans of her own, Brittany had suggested they do something fun. Santana was thinking that something would involve a chill night indoors and out of the cold and far, far away from icy surfaces which she could bust her ass on but Brittany had something else in mind.

She reminded Santana of the rink set up near the Christmas tree farm and how awesome it is because they decorate it with fairy lights and there’s Christmas music playing and everyone’s always so nice. There’s even a small kiosk where they sell hot chocolate and churros which was kind of an odd combination when Santana thought about it but Brittany loved everything about the place!

As she continued to pile on all the awesome things that can be found at the ice rink, Santana knew exactly where this was going and it was only a matter of time before she caved.

“But it’s freezing out and I’m pretty sure it’s meant to snow tonight too,” Santana replied with a groan.

“Even better! It’ll be real snow instead of the fake stuff they use that tastes like hand sanitizer,” Brittany said, bouncing on her toes happily.

“I just don’t really feeling like falling and bruising my ass tonight,” Santana tried.

“Then I’ll catch you,” Brittany answered easily.

“That’s what you always say,” Santana chuckled, “And we still manage to fall.”

“Well, I’ve gotten better over the years,” Brittany said with her chest puffed out a little.

Santana quirked a brow, “Have you been practicing?”

“Nope,” Brittany shrugged so casually that Santana couldn’t help but laugh. Brittany then reached for both of Santana’s hands, slowly dragging her out from her shell, then gave them a squeeze, “It’s tradition, San, we always use to go when we were younger.”

She bit down on her bottom lip; Brittany knew how much she loved a tradition.

Santana was doing her best to hold her ground, try to sway Brittany to do something else, but she was quickly losing her footing. Brittany was totally working her now, signature pout and all, but if Brittany was going for Santana’s weaknesses then she could do the same.

“We have other traditions too,” Santana husked and flashed a seductive grin, “Traditions that involve a lot less layers and a lot more-“

“Nope,” Brittany swiftly cut her off though she seemed to stop and think about Santana’s potential proposition for a moment before ultimately shaking her head, “No. I will not be swayed by your sweet, sweet lady kisses. I stand by my choice.”

Brittany really could be stubborn when she wanted and Santana knew she was bound to agree because denying Brittany anything was apparently impossible for her to do. She blames it on the Christmas Spirit, but really she’s a sucker for Brittany no matter the season.

Still, she wanted to see how far Brittany would go to convince her so she stayed silent, seemingly looking unmoved by Brittany’s reasoning.

“I don’t know, Britt..” Santana replied with a long sigh.  

The blonde just gave her that same small smile that always made Santana’s knees shake. Her voice dipped down low as she took a step into Santana’s space, eyes a darker shade of blue than before, “Come on…for me?”

There was something about the way Brittany asked that had Santana gulping. She was always great at mixing sexy with the sweet, it was like Santana’s kryptonite and she was convinced Brittany knew it too.

Before she could even say anything, Brittany continued, “I’ve only got a couple more days to spend with you until I leave for San Fran. Don’t you wanna have something to remember me by?”

Santana looked to Brittany fondly; first it was the sexy and now it was the sweet. It was like Brittany’s one-two punch that left Santana in a puddle on the floor.

“You’re not going to be gone forever,” Santana said dismissively, fighting back a smile.

“Two weeks is a long time, Santana…”

When Brittany proceeded to bat her eyelashes accompanied by her infamous pout, Santana couldn’t help but snicker and roll her eyes. She really did have Santana wrapped around her pinky, huh?

“Okay, okay. Enough with the pout!” Santana finally said with a chuckle, “We can go, but we’re going to have to change into something warmer and-”

Brittany cheered and quickly wrapped Santana up in a tight hug before moving to press kisses all over her face, “This is going to be so much fun!”

\\

And it so was, even if they did fall on their asses a couple of times.

Santana was so damn cold, she couldn’t feel anything anyway but braving the temperature was so worth it when she was with Brittany. She always thought the blonde was beautiful, but illuminated by fairy lights and sprinkled with new fallen snow was something entirely different.

Brittany was glowing.

Santana couldn’t help but stare which might’ve been the reason why they fell on their asses so many times. Everything about Brittany was distracting; the way she sang to the Christmas music blaring from the speakers, the burst of laughter after she’d nearly fall, the feel of her gloved hand in hers, or that look in her eye whenever she’d catch Santana staring.

She felt like they had been transported right back to the start, back when they first started going on outings like this together without any boys to get in the way and they could just be themselves.

Well, as close to themselves as they could. Back then, there was always this voice in the back of Santana’s mind that never let her truly get to the point she is now. She was too preoccupied by the talks and the looks that she sometimes missed out on moments like this, of true happiness.  

That’s not the case now though, everything felt so new, like she was experiencing it all for the first time again. For a moment, she regretted depriving her younger self of this feeling but she quickly realized she couldn’t help herself then. She wasn’t ready, but she is now and she’s not going to waste a moment of it.  

Santana lost count of how many times they rounded the rink and they probably would’ve gone longer if the Zamboni didn’t roll out. Once they wobbled their way off the ice and switched back into their regular shoes, they headed over to the rental counter to turn their skates in.

Although Santana had been hesitant at first, she was actually having a lot of fun with Brittany and didn’t really want it to end so soon. When Santana caught Brittany glancing over at the kiosk near the entrance of the Christmas tree farm, she figured there might be another way to drag their time spent together out a little longer.

“Hot chocolate?” Santana asked although she already knew the answer.

Brittany beamed, “Duh.”

Santana just chuckled and looped her arm with Brittany’s before making the short walk over.

\\

They end up taking a walk through the Christmas tree farm while they sip on their hot chocolates. It’s nothing but the scent of fresh pine and the sound of Christmas music playing in the distance while they walk under the glow of the fairy lights strung up above them. Their shoulders bump every so often as they step in sync, their hands busy with trying to absorb the warmth of their cups.

They walk in silence, but it’s comfortable. Brittany started to hum as Christmas Wrapping began to play and it only makes Santana smile fondly at the memory of them dancing with streamers to that exact song. For a moment, she wonders where they all are now – the rest of the Glee club kids – and she hopes they’re happy.

Just as she is now with Brittany by her side.

“Have you put up your tree yet?” Brittany asks, pulling Santana from her walk down memory lane.

Santana shakes her head, “Not yet which is surprising. You know how much my mom loves to decorate. She loves the holidays.”

The way the words fall sound like Santana’s trying to be dismissive and it makes Brittany chuckle. She looks to her side and finds the blonde side-eying her with a smirk.

“You love it just as much,” Brittany tells her, “I bet you think I didn’t notice your Christmas themed socks when we were putting on our skates earlier.”

Santana’s lips part to reply but nothing comes out. Nothing gets pass Brittany apparently.

“Don’t worry,” Brittany chuckles and bumps her shoulder with Santana’s, “I think they’re super cute.”

Santana grins with the shake of her head as Brittany sips on her drink, “I think my mom’s waiting on getting a real tree before she starts decorating. She has just been too busy with work to go out and get one.”

“Why don’t you get one now?” Brittany suggests with a shrug, “I mean, we’re literally walking through a Christmas tree farm as we speak. I can even help you pick the perfect one!”  

Santana lets the thought roll around, but she’d be lying if a swarm of butterflies didn’t start going wild at the sound of Brittany’s offer. There’s something domestic about doing something like that with Brittany and Santana can’t help the smile from spreading.

“Are you okay with strapping one to your car?” She asks.

“Totally,” Brittany bounces on her toes then drags Santana off down an aisle, “I saw some good ones over here.”

Santana just let’s Brittany lead the way, letting her point out the best trees in her opinion based on shape, color, variety. There’s so much excitement and Santana wonders how much of it has to do with the sugary hot chocolate until Brittany catches her eye.

The blonde pauses and drops the hand she had toying with the tips of a Douglas Fir to her side as her smile softens.

“Sorry, I’ve missed doing things like this,” Brittany apologizes through a shy smile, “I haven’t done it in awhile.”

“Neither have I,” Santana tells her, “Usually my mom flies to New York for the holidays and my apartment wasn’t really big enough for a whole tree so I just had a little tabletop one.”

Brittany nods, watching Santana like she’s the only girl in the world. It makes her feel vulnerable for some reason and she reaches out to touch the pines Brittany had been toying with before.

“New York must look really pretty during the holidays,” Brittany comments and there’s something there beneath the surface that Santana can’t quite grasp. Could it be nostalgia or remorse? She’s not sure.

“It is,” Santana confirms and catches Brittany’s eye. The words fall before she can even think them through, “I’ll show you next year.”

It’s short and sweet and to the point, but it means so much more. It’s reassurance that whatever they’re doing now is going to lead to something great and that there’s a future for them.

Then Brittany smiles one of Santana’s favorite kind like it’s just for her and it’s infectious. It warms her heart to see it and before she can say anything else, Brittany’s leaning in for a kiss.

She tastes like peppermint chapstick and chocolate and Santana can’t help but smile against her soft lips.

“I can’t wait,” Brittany says just a breath away.

Santana just nods and leans back in for another sweet kiss.

\\

After settling on the most perfect tree awhile later, they’re sitting on a bench together watching a couple of guys strap the tree down on top of Brittany’s car. They’ve been so preoccupied with searching for a tree and stealing kisses that they hadn’t realized they’ve worked up quite an appetite.

A single hot chocolate probably isn’t going to cut it now that it’s nearing dinner time, but Santana remembers what day it is and goes to make a suggestion.

“It’s 50% off entrees at Breadstix tonight,” Santana begins casually, “Wanna get dinner with me?”

In that moment, Santana doesn’t realize it would be the first time they’ve had dinner with it just being the two of them since Quinn usually tagged along after practice. Santana’s too distracted by the rumbling in her stomach and that she hasn’t eaten anything since lunch – which was about 7 hours ago now – to notice though.

Brittany looks a little surprised by the question but it quickly disappears and turns into a wide grin, “Yeah, sure. Breadstix sounds great!”

\\

Santana still doesn’t realize what’s happening when the waitress guides the pair to a familiar booth in the center of the restaurant. The woman smiles at them as they sit on opposite sides of the table and guesses their drink orders correctly. Santana doesn’t think it’s such an amazing feat, the woman’s been waitressing there since the beginning of time so she was bound to remember at some point.

They go on to browse the menu as if they don’t already know what they’re getting. Over their frequent visits to Breadstix, they’ve both adopted their favorites and rarely deviate from them. When the waitress returns with their drinks and a basket filled with twice as much breadsticks than what’s usually served, she’s not surprised by their order either.

They really are such creatures of habit and that thought is only further confirmed when Brittany pushes the basket of breadsticks closer to Santana’s side of the table. Santana grins happily and nibbles away like nothing has changed.

But she does sense something different with Brittany that she can’t quite place. She noticed it in the car ride over and maybe even before they left the ice rink. It’s not anything unsettling, it’s just different and Santana can’t figure out what it is. She’s quiet, almost shy, and Santana can’t help but wonder why.

She chooses not to linger on it though and instead focus on enjoying Brittany’s company.

\\

They fall into conversation easily, replaying the events at the ice rink and trying to debate who is the better skater. It gets pretty heated in the best of ways, but they ultimately agree to disagree and move on to the topic of Brittany’s upcoming trip.

“Have you started packing yet?” Santana asks before taking a bite of her salad.

Brittany shrugs as pokes her fork through a piece of shrimp, “A little bit. You know how I am, I like waiting until the last minute.”

“Yes. I remember,” Santana sighed then began to laugh, “It use to stress me out so much.”

“I work best under pressure,” Brittany chuckled.

“Of course, you do.” Santana nodded, “So are you excited to see your parents? How long has it been since the last time anyway?”

When Brittany’s smile falls slightly, Santana knows instantly that she’s hit a nerve.

“A little over a year and a half now,” Brittany tells her and it sounds like there’s sadness in her tone.

Santana can only imagine, Brittany’s family was always pretty close. But as the words settle, they remind her of something Brittany once said and she racks her brain for the connection until it finally clicks.

“Wait a second, you haven’t seen them since they moved?” Santana asks.

Brittany shakes her head, still looking down at her plate. She stays quiet and Santana wonders if she should ask why, but she’s worried she’ll cross a line. Maybe this isn’t something Brittany wants to talk about? It sure doesn’t look like she does, but Brittany soon breaks her silence.

“Things got really weird when I went off to MIT,” Brittany admits softly, “Dad lost his job and he had a really hard time finding another. Mom was trying to cover everything but she didn’t make nearly enough as he did. My uncle ended up reaching out at the last minute and offered my dad a job with him but that meant they’d need to move to California. They didn’t really have a choice since they had fallen behind on their bills.”

Santana swallowed hard. She had no idea Brittany had been dealing with this, but kept quiet as Brittany continued.

“At the time, I didn’t know anything. I was deep in my studies at MIT then one day,” Brittany pauses looking a little flustered, “They didn’t tell me about having to put the house up for sale until it was already sold.”

Santana’s jaw dropped, “What? Why would they keep that from you?”

“I don’t know. They started acting really weird and distant but I thought that maybe I had been reading into it too much and things were fine? Like maybe I was just looking for a reason to quit and come home?” Brittany shook her head, “They kept me in the dark the whole time, refused to tell me anything until the very last minute. They said it was because they didn’t want to worry me while I was in school. When I came home for Spring Break, everything was already packed up except for my room.”

Santana was shocked. She loved the Pierces, she really did but they didn’t always treat Brittany like she deserved to be treated. Santana noticed early on that Brittany’s wellbeing wasn’t always a priority and often times they left her to fend for herself but she didn’t expect something like this. Brittany grew up in that house, it was her childhood home, so she knew that it would’ve been hard to see it go.

“I’m so sorry, Britt.” Santana says helplessly, “I don’t even know what to say, I had no idea.”

“That was a really weird time in my life, you wouldn’t have none. No one would’ve,” Brittany shrugs but she looks too deep in thought now, “I’m fine with it now, I guess. They had to do what they had to do so I get it. I just wish they would’ve told me sooner, you know? I could’ve helped somehow, maybe I could’ve deferred and moved back? I could’ve got a job somewhere and I could’ve helped them save the house? I don’t know.”

Santana softens at the sound of Brittany’s voice cracking, like she’s barely holding it together and she starts to wonder how much else she doesn’t know? It seems Brittany has kept everything hidden beneath the surface and that worries Santana, because she knows firsthand what that can do to a person.

“When I came home and everything was already packed up,” Brittany starts again sadly, “I felt so strange. It reminded me of seeing your bedroom emptied out before you left for Louisville and I guess that thought triggered some other feelings. They kept me in the dark for so long and then were ready to up and leave like nothing happened. I felt…so alone, forgotten, like I was left behind.”

That pulls a something within Santana and it makes her heart ache for Brittany. She remembers those words from so long ago You left me behind and it hurt. That was the exact moment Santana thought she had to make change, for Brittany’s sake. Who would’ve known that her decision would be a huge mistake.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin the mood.” Brittany says in place of Santana’s silence, but Santana’s quick to dismiss the apology.

“Don’t be,” Santana tells her earnestly and she reaches across the table to find Brittany’s hand to hold, “You haven’t ruined anything. I like learning these things, we’ve missed so much of each other’s lives. I want to know the you that you are now, even if that includes the not-so-happy moments too.”

It takes Brittany a moment to be convinced but soon a small smile makes its way onto her lips, “Okay good, because touching on this topic of conversation isn’t exactly how I pictured our first date going.”

Santana freezes and her eyes widen a little, “Wait, what?”

Brittany’s brows scrunch at the question, “Isn’t that…what this is?”

Santana blinks and she can feel heat rise up the back of her neck while Brittany begins to smile at the look of confusion on Santana’s face.

“Oh honey…” Brittany sighs lovingly, “Did you not realize you had asked me on a date?”

Santana flushes and tries to remember every action that led to this moment, but she struggles after hearing Brittany call her honey. It makes her feel soft in a way that reminds her of their quiet moments alone but she focuses back on how she managed to miss something as big as accidentally asking Brittany on a date.

Brittany notices and begins to fill in the blanks for her.

“You asked me to have dinner with you. It’s Friday night which was always our date night and we’re at Breadstix and sitting in our booth. Even the waitress recognized us,” Brittany lists and the smile on her face only grows, “I even ordered shrimp. That should’ve been a dead giveaway.”

Santana’s lips part to defend herself but she stops and begins to smile, “Oh my God, you’re right. How did I let this happen?”

When Brittany struggles to hide her laugher, Santana looks to her and squints her eyes. She can’t tell whether or not Brittany’s laughing with her or at her but in the most loving way possible.

“What’s so funny?” Santana questions, a smile threatening to mimic Brittany’s, “I had big plans for our official first date, Britt. There was a swanky restaurant and fancy wine, I was going to sweep you off your feet.”

Brittany lets out a sigh as she shakes her head, “Some things really don’t change do they?”

Santana frowns a little and asks, “What does that mean?”

“It means that this,” Brittany gestures from Santana to herself, “Comes so naturally to you that you don’t even realize you’re doing it. It’s why I’ve said that I don’t really need all the grand gestures. Don’t get me wrong, they’re awesome and I love how much thought you put into our first date. Your thoughtfulness is one of my favorite things about you.”

Santana smiles down at her plate bashfully at the compliment.

“But you don’t have to convince me of anything, Santana, you already sweep me off my feet,” Brittany tells her simply, “You always have.”  

Santana watches as Brittany brings Santana’s hand to rest across the table, their fingers threading instinctively. She’s still thinking about what Brittany said, but seeing their hands like this laid across this table brings back so many memories. She thinks about hiding beneath red napkins and the fear of being caught and how she’s evolved since then.

All she feels now is love, so much love.

Brittany’s right about some things going unchanged, but being able to hold her hand like this in such a public place without a care in the world isn’t one of them. When Brittany catches Santana’s eye and looks to their joined hands, Santana knows she understands the significance of it all.

In a way, it’s like they’ve come full circle.

“When did you get so charming?” Santana sighs.

Brittany just lifts a shoulder and bites on her bottom lip.  

\\

Their conversation turns into something lighter as they continue with their meals, touching back on the topic of Brittany’s upcoming trip.

“Did you need a ride to the airport?” Santana asks before taking a bite.

Brittany began to smirk, “Are you offering?”

“Maybe,” Santana matches her smirk, “What time’s your flight again?”

Brittany’s smirk falls and turns into a nervous grin, “Early?”

Santana scrunches her nose, “Ew, nevermind.”

Brittany gasped and watched Santana start to laugh.

“I’m joking,” Santana clarifies, “I’ll take you.”

“You sure?” Brittany questions shyly as she poked around her plate, “It’s really early. I think you might just have to spend the night.”

Santana blinked at the suggestion and began to smile as she quirked her brow, “Oh really?”

“Definitely,” Brittany answered with certainty, “I know how easy it is for you to sleep through an alarm. Can’t take that risk.”

It was Santana’s turn to gasp and watch Brittany begin to laugh.

“Just because I don’t believe in waking up before noon doesn’t mean I can’t if I had to,” Santana tries to defend herself but it just makes Brittany laugh harder. Santana only shakes her head as Brittany’s cheeks pink, “You just wanna get me in a bed with you again.”

Brittany instantly stops and deadpans, “Who said I’d let you share? I was thinking you’d stay on the couch.”

Santana gasps again and this time she’s the one with a flushed face. She feels so embarrassed for assuming but before she could spiral out Brittany’s smirk softens and she reaches across the table to touch Santana’s wrist.

“I’m joking,” Brittany says then her voice dips down lower as she leans in, “You know I’ll take any opportunity I can to get you into my bed.”

Santana’s jaw drops at the suggestive tone but the glint her Brittany’s eye let’s her know she’s still teasing so she shakes her head at the blonde, “You’re going to be the death of me, Pierce.”

Brittany just winked before finishing off the rest of her shrimp alfredo.

\\

After fighting over the bill for a good 10 minutes – a fight Santana ultimately won – they’re on their way back to Brittany’s car. There’s a thin layer of freshly fallen snow and Santana nuzzles further into her scarf in hopes of hiding from the chilly winter air.

“Oh look,” Brittany points out as the come up to her car, “No one stole your tree!”

“What a relief,” Santana chuckles and they quickly climb inside.

They sit shivering and rubbing their hands together for warmth while Brittany’s car heats up. There’s a layer of frost covering the windows that shield them from the outside world, not that there’s anyone around to see them anyway. They were probably one of the last tables in the whole restaurant.

Santana hasn’t really stopped thinking about what Brittany told her earlier, and her thoughts begin to wander. She thinks about what Brittany must’ve been like during college although it seems like she avoids the topic of MIT like the plague, she can’t help but wonder why that is.

“What are you thinking about?” Brittany asks quietly.

When Santana glances over, Brittany’s already staring back curiously. She bites her lip, trying to decide whether or not she wants to ask that burning question. Brittany’s been pretty open all night, so maybe she’d indulge Santana? Wouldn’t hurt to ask, right?

“Can I ask you something?” Santana starts off slow.

“Uh-oh,” Brittany teases although there’s a little hesitance as her eyes shift to the buttons of her radio, “Sure.”

Santana swallows and tries to come up with the perfect question, but the curiosity gets the best of her and the words tumble out, “How come you don’t talk about your time at MIT?”

Brittany shrugs and Santana can already tell Brittany doesn’t want to talk about it. Surprisingly though, she answers.

“Probably the same reason you don’t talk about your school,” Brittany answers, “It happened a lifetime ago.”

“But still,” Santana tries, “I’d like to know about your time spent there. I didn’t even know that was a school you wanted to go to. You never brought it up before.”

“That’s because it was never an option,” Brittany says, “At least, I didn’t want it to be one.”

Santana frowns at Brittany’s dismissive words, “Why? It’s MIT, that’s so prestigious.”

“Exactly, and no one ever talks about the stress that comes with going to a place like that,” Brittany replies, “My schedule was crazy busy. I never got enough sleep. I was tired and cranky and overworked practically the whole time. I hated it.”

Santana slumps in her seat at the honesty.

“It all happened so quickly,” Brittany explains, “One minute I was gearing up for Regionals then the next I was solving the worlds’ problems or whatever. It was hard and I was so…lonely. I found myself wanting to call you so many times, I just missed you so much, but I could never bring myself to make the call. I didn’t want you to think I was pathetic or something, being homesick and lonely after like the first week.”

“I would never,” Santana frowns and reaches over to hold Brittany’s hand.

“I know. I think a part of me just wanted to prove to everyone that I could do it,” Brittany tells her as she draws shapes at the back of Santana’s hand, “I focused on my studies and worked my ass off. Soon word got around campus about my SAT scores and I was able to get a tutoring job which surprised everyone back in Lima.”

“Naturally,” Santana scoffed, “Those dumbasses wouldn’t know genius if it backhanded them across the face.”

Brittany chuckles at that and smiles fondly at Santana, “You believed in me before anyone else.”

Santana meets Brittany’s gaze and grins timidly, “Of course, I did. You’re a genius, Britt.”

“Yeah, the people at MIT thought so too. It was so different to be around people that didn’t just see me as the ditzy blonde cheerleader,” Brittany continues, “People actually wanted my help and the tutoring gig paid so well because there are a tone of desperate rich kids at MIT just wanting to keep their grades up. I was doing well, I thought that maybe I had finally left high school behind me and I thought that I was almost caught up to you.”

Santana’s smile falters as does Brittany’s.

“But I didn’t realize that meant losing all the best parts of myself though,” Brittany says solemnly, “After everything with the house happened, I started pushing people away. I never went out unless it was for class or a tutoring session. I got so engrossed in my work that it was all I did. I even stopped dancing, I just didn’t have time for it anymore. I don’t think you would’ve liked me, I was horrible.”

“Horrible? I can’t picture it,” Santana replies but Brittany just shrugs.

“You’ve just have to believe me,” Brittany tell her, “Surprisingly, Sam was the only one that stuck around even when I was being a complete ass to everyone. I know you don’t like him, but he was a good friend to me during that time.”

“I never said I didn’t like him,” Santana chuckles, “But I’m glad you had him. I wish I could’ve been there for you too.”

Brittany just shrugs again before moving to turn on the defroster. Santana takes her silence as the end of that topic and doesn’t push any further. She doesn’t really see the need to, Brittany’s told her more than enough and she’s thankful for the new insight.

\\

On the car ride back to Maribel’s, they sing along to Christmas songs on the radio and the seriousness from earlier is long gone. It’s nothing but smiles and laughter as they pull into the driveway.

“I’ll help you get the tree inside,” Brittany offers and they move around trying to figure out how that’ll happen with all the straps and buckles in place. Brittany ends up figuring it out and the two carry the tree up to the doorstep.

Before Santana can get her key into the lock, Maribel’s opening the door wearing a great big smile.

“What is this?” She asks eyeing both of the girls then the tree between them.

“Hi Maribel,” Brittany greets happily.

“We bought a tree,” Santana supplies.

“I can see that,” Maribel chuckles then quickly waves for them to come inside, “Get in here, you’re letting the cold in.”

Santana and Brittany shuffle inside, balancing the weight of the tree between them, while Maribel directs the girls on where to go. She’s so giddy and although it’s nearly 9pm, Maribel’s already rummaging through a couple boxes of decorations.

“Mami, do you have to start tonight?” Santana teases, “We’ve got all the time after practice tomorrow to help.”

“We?” Brittany asks, looking to Santana, “As in me too?”

“Well yeah, if you want to,” Santana smiles at Brittany’s disbelief, “I don’t know what that look’s for. You helped pick the tree, you can help decorate too.”

Brittany smiles bashfully and all Santana wants to do is cover her face in kisses, but Maribel’s standing right there and she doesn’t exactly know the specifics of their relationship. Instead, Santana’s bumps her shoulder with Brittany’s until the both giggle.

“Yes! We can have a little early Christmas since you’ll be away, Brittany,” Maribel interrupts, smiling affectionately at the two, “I’m sure Santana will love that.”

Santana instantly turns red at Maribel’s suggestive tone. She’s sure that Brittany picks up on it too as she and Maribel share a knowing look. Sometimes she really hates how close they are, and by hate she means absolutely adores.

“I’d love to help,” Brittany grins, “But I better head home soon before the snow gets any heavier.”

“True,” Maribel nods, “You be careful driving home.”

“I will.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Santana says and follows Brittany all the way to her car.

“Oh, how kind of you!” Brittany teases as Santana gets the door for her, but she doesn’t get in just yet. Instead, she turns and faces Santana, her back pressed against the doorframe. Her eyes dart between Santana’s as a snowflake catches on her eyelash.

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” Santana tells her.

Brittany nods, “Yeah, me too.”

“And I really appreciate all of the things you told me,” Santana adds, “About your parents and MIT. I know you don’t really like talking about it, but I’m really glad you told me.”

Brittany doesn’t say anything, her expressions are almost unreadable, but Santana doesn’t take that to heart. Instead, she gets to thinking about something and wonders if Brittany might hear her better if it were done in a different way. She thinks about Piano Brad and the choir room  and gears begin to churn.

It clicks in an instant, but she contains herself for now.

“Drive safely, okay?” Santana says and reaches to fluff up Brittany’s scarf, “Maybe text me when you get home so I know you made it.”

“I can do that,” Brittany grin grows as Santana continues fussing over her, “You know, I do have heat in my car.”

Santana realizes what she’s doing and quickly drops her hands with a blush, “Sorry, old habits I guess.”

“You’re cute,” Brittany chuckles and leans down for a kiss.

It happens too quickly for Santana’s liking, so she grabs onto Brittany’s scarf and tugs her back down. She can feel the smile spread across Brittany’s lips against her own and it makes her heart melt. She really can’t get enough of her, especially after the day they’ve had.

When they finally manage to pull away, there’s a dazed look in their eyes that makes Santana bite her lip, “Okay, go home before I change my mind and try to convince you to stay.”

“You wouldn’t have to try very hard,” Brittany giggles but moves to get behind the wheel. She glances back up at Santana, smile as big and as bright as ever, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Santana.”

Santana matches the grin Brittany wears, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Britt.”

\\

That night – after receiving Brittany’s text that she got home safely – Santana scrolls through playlist after playlist until her eyes grow weary. She’s not sure what she’s looking for just yet, but she’ll know when she hears it. Afterall, it has to be perfect considering what happened the last time she sang to Brittany in the place where they first fell in love.

[echoes-of-realities]

8, 14, 20, 31, 44, aaaand 45 to give us a sneak preview of some #Content we all deserve?!

8. what time are you most productive?

Any time after, like, 8pm lmao. This goes for schoolwork and writing fic, but like before that I Drag My Feet so much to do anything! But one 8pm hits??? I can write So Much. (This also means that I have an Awful Sleeping schedule and that I subsist on coffee and pure rage at myself in the mornings but sacrifices  for the creative process you know.)

14. easiest character to write

Similar to the hardest character to write, if you had asked me in January I wouldn’t have said this, but 10000% it’s Brittany now. Like. I don’t know if it’s because I worked so hard to Understand her or if something just Clicked at some point, but Brittany’s voice comes really easily to me now so. She’s both the easiest character to write for me and the most fun because I just love her and her voice a lot!!! (Special shoutout to Santana though. I feel like I Always got her voice from the beginning just because I related to her storyline so much. (Not that I was mean and popular when I was a closeted teen though lmao, I just had this very specific image of myself when I was closeted that Wasn’t Who I Was at all, so.) Which makes Brittana so much easier to write when I feel like I Get the voices of two characters who make up the ship lmao.)

20. favorite character to write

Okay, again, it’s definitely Brittany but since I just talked about her, and Santana, aside from those two it’s probably Mercedes! She’s just like, the Most Put Together of the glee club and the one Most Likely to Side Eye everyone else’s Messiness and I Love That about her. So outside of Brittana, it’s 100% Mercedes to write. (Special shoutout to Maribel though as well because, even though I don’t write in her pov very often it feels like I’m stepping into my mom’s shoes of knowing you’re raising a gay kid but also knowing not to push them. When I came out to my mom she told me “duh, I was just waiting for you to catch up” and honestly? That gave me A Lot of insight into her raising me over the years, and it allowed me to see that while I was struggling, she was too because she didn’t want to push me further into the closet, so she just patiently waited all these years and supported me where she could when I faltered. This is turning into a special shoutout to my mom (who Deserves it tbh), but basically all of this gave me the insight and ability to write Maribel too, so.)

31. easiest part of writing

Oooooh that’s a hard one tbh. Um, I would say editing but that can be Difficult sometimes too lmao. For me, I guess fic titles maybe? Like, I usually have a fic title from a song lyric long before the fic is even a couple sentences done because that’s usually what inspires me for said fic. Oh! Another one for me personally is, like, writing the tiny details of a scene or characters moving. Like dialogue and plot comes hard to me sometimes, but being able to imagine a scene and characters moving around in a scene is so easy to me for some reason. Like I might not Know what’s going to happen next, but I sure as hell know which part of a character’s fingers are twitching and how people walking down the hallway sound bouncing around an empty classroom.

44. do you write linear or do you write future scenes if you feel like it?

Lmao fuck my writing process is All Over the place. Like I’ll be writing one scene and have an idea for another scene and quickly hit enter like seven times and write that scene (or whatever tiny part came to my head). My docs are a Mess until I finish the fic. I jump around A Lot when I write, and usually my process is something like small chunk of a scene here, some new lines, a large chunk here, some new lines, two lines here, and then some new lines and an entirely new scene here. Most of my writing is literally just me writing transitions between two scenes that jumped into my head and I furiously wrote down.

It usually looks something like this with dumb notes throughout and me jumping around a whole heck of a lot:

britt and santana on first sleepover in santana’s and maribel’s new house —> a week after britt and santana’s first kiss

/

/

Brittany shifts again and her knee brushes Santana’s bare thigh and promptly bursts into so many tingles Brittany briefly wonders if it had fallen asleep and Santana had just woken it up. “Yeah, like you’re still kinda sad that he’s not around but you’re like—” Brittany sighs in frustration when she can’t find the words she’s looking for. “It’s like

/

/

/

Santana is silent for a moment, and Brittany can almost see her thoughts even though it’s still pitch-black in the room. “You’re a genius, Britt-Britt,” Santana finally says, and Brittany’s skin heats up right from her ears all the way to her collarbone. 

“Yeah, well,” she mumbles. Santana shifts 

/

/

/

/

/

“Britt?” Santana breathes.

The next flash of lightning shows that Santana’s face is a lot closer than Brittany thought it was, eyes wide and deep, and it sends something deep within Brittany’s chest fluttering like a thousand butterflies are slamming into her ribs.

45. share the synopsis of a story you work on that you haven’t published yet

(Fuck you caught me I don’t really have Any ongoing wips rn lmao)

I have a request for the s6 newbies’ views on Brittana that I really wanna write. I’m working on the next (and final 🙁) seasons fic too right now (which covers spring, like circa 3.15 to graduation; also spoiler alert Brittany is graduating and there will be no sex tape so). And I also have an interlude of sorts planned within the same universe that covers Brittana’s first kiss and Maribel’s divorce from Santana’s father and their move to the house in Lima Heights Adjacent (which is basically me trying to explain the show’s canon for Santana’s family within the context of how I write them, so (that’s also what the example of my process from the last question is from)).

So because I have like Nothing to share rn, I’ll give you the current first part from the next seasons fic instead lmao:

//

Santana’s pretty sure stargazing is, like, the most stereotypical lesbian date ever, but she can’t really find it in herself to care; not when Brittany’s curled against her, pressed all along her one side, warm and sleepy, their curfews lifted for the night for once, laying in the field beside the train tracks a couple neighbourhoods away from Santana’s house. She thinks both of their parents feel guilty about the whole thing with Karofsky, and then with Quinn, mostly because her mom held her really, really tight every evening this week, and the Pierce’s hugged her in greeting and farewell too whenever she came over to study with Brittany.

(Santana thinks her mom feels guilty most of all, because it wasn’t so long ago that Santana grew quiet at home and mean at school and she’s sure her mom knew about the moments when she would lay on her bed and stare blankly up at the ceiling and wonder and wonder and wonder—)

Brittany shifts against her as if she can sense Santana’s thoughts, and they quickly fade and are replaced by Brittany’s warm breath across her collarbone, eyelashes fluttering against the sensitive skin of her neck. Brittany draws patterns across Santana’s stomach, hearts and then stars and then their names and then what Santana thinks might be a cat. She nuzzles closer and occasionally points out a constellation and recites everything she knows about the stories behind them, Greek, and then Roman, and then the ones her dad made up for her too.

Stargazing might be the most stereotypical lesbian date ever, but Santana kinda really loves it when Brittany’s the one stargazing with her.

[alessandra-mnl]

Post Scandal 714 and Pre-Finale Thoughts

Well that was surprising a really good episode after the filler we had prior. When Scandal delivers a good episode, well damn it can really deliver a good one from start to end. Ranking which episodes are the best in this show is a bit challenging to do so as it will tend to be subjective due to the different treatments they do (character centric, episodic, bottle) but 714 so far is my favorite for this season and probably the best “real time” episode that we’ve had in a really long time.

1. This is the second time in a row we hear Olivia stating the she is not here for forgiveness. Based on her track record it has me thinking that: a) Olivia is known for rarely apologizing because she is allergic to holding herself accountable (as that would require facing that she’s wrong). On the rare occasions that she does, it is still debatable if it is authentic because it feels like she’s also doing it while expecting something in return; b) Olivia has always been known to respond more through her actions over words. In any show the dialogue is always important but more so in Scandal. This is because a huge part of the text operates on half truths/projections and Olivia is an embodiment of that. How many times have we seen her ‘say one thing and then do another’ or ‘do as I say but not as I do’? All the time. Actions tend to bear more truth and substance compared to the monologues as seen over time in this show. Since the crossover I noticed Olivia is trying be a doer and interact with people instead of talking at them. However I still think a true apology and/or honesty from her in verbal form would play a huge significance to her character, relationships she ruined, and dreams she ended. 

2. For a high octane show, it is surprisingly in the muted and “normal” scenes where I tend to get a deeper insight. Here it’s when Olivia visits Marcus to see if he’s interested for dinner and for company. It is a very simple scene but it had me look at Olivia and the struggles she went through over the course of the series differently. A lot of the characters in this show are alone, at times lonely, or worst both and this happens to be a result of both circumstances and their own doing. However it is only in Olivia that I noticed who’s been repeatedly reminded that the life she lives is primarily a lonely one. This has been more so dragged on to her face since post 509 and during her stint as COS/Command. Instead of watching her life improves as thought so after ending a tumultous relationship and then achieving her ultimate goal, we ended up seeing her pursue a lonelier and more miserable path. Marcus remarks that she doesn’t have any other friends - a somewhat supposedly light moment between the two would still have to sting for someone who has abandonment issues, been constantly reminded that she’s alone, and is now facing the result of ruining the relationships in her life on top of all the other tragedies she experienced.

3. The case brought by Alisha’s father and how it resonated on him for me is one of the most insightful cases we’ve had and almost rivals with the Sully St. James case in the pilot. The father dragging Olivia and placing the blame of Alisha’s death on her was unnecessary but the scene was necessary. Me and @boombitxh​ were breaking down the case during one of our conversations because it served multiple purposes.

The father stressed on the value of having a daughter who’s alive as opposed to losing one who’s accomplished to the corrupt system of “power” and following the blueprint that Olivia sought out on.

Him going off on Olivia reminded me how she (and to an extent Fitz) is still a scandal. Olivia will always be remembered as a scandal ever since she outed herself in s5. It is a fact that is part of history and tied to Fitz’s legacy as reminded by Marcus in 703. It also reminds me of the question posed at the start of 703 regarding the deal with olitz and the lingering unclear fate between the two leaves the scandal as a scandal. Because of this it has me thinking how tricky it can be to leave olitz as open ended, both staying in DC, and remain as professional acquaintances. For personal reasons, boundaries will always be actively tested (especially Fitz’s because honestly it’s still to be seen if he can consistently have them intact) or we would just always be waiting for the other shoe to drop. The other reason is that there would always be speculation around them given their history and others can still paint her in a negative light because in the end the narrative about them never really changed. 

Picking up from the crossover is the return of the case format and @boombitxh shared with me something insightful which is how the purpose of the case now works in reverse. The cases have always been our gateway into Olivia’s headspace but this time it’s the client who’s doing the talking that gives us an inkling to Olivia’s unresolved internal conflict. It’s almost like this time around it is her who is now the client being fixed. We had Annalise showing the value of family in both the personal and professional space. Here it’s the father-daughter and in the upcoming episode it is technically Quinn so I wonder aside from the mission against Cyrus, what can be pick up here that ties to the personal?

4. This episode also had me realize that Fitz has been pretty much our tie to the past this season. There’s the obvious which is olitz as the scandal and how he keeps on taking about them in past tense form. Then Mellie still brings him up for comparison and we saw in 7A the similarities between her and him as POTUS. Lastly his institute is what’s being utilize for the return of the case format but with a different energy this time. However it’s also quite ironic because out of all the other characters, he’s the one that is operating in a new space and is supposed to be moving forward. After Olivia, Fitz is really the next one who’s ending is also unclear and let’s face it their character’s ending is somehow tied to one another. Is he still going to leave as he said early on when he sees an Olivia that he recognizes? Or was that just for the sake of answering?   

5. Other things to ponder on.

Props for incorporating a current social issue and movement while at the same time weaving it organically into the storyline and characters. That’s always a tricky technique with this show as seen especially over the recent seasons and exaggerated monologues. However how it was incorporated here reminded me of the Scandal of the early seasons - simple but significant.

What week between Fitz and Jake was Mellie referring to when she checked Jake? I’m definitely in the minority in saying this but the relationship between the two men always intrigued me and wished that their unclear Navy history was fleshed out more. I hope before the series wraps they get to interact for one last time because there’s always an underlying animosity between the two and yet when they talk it’s like they still have a weird understanding. 

Cyrus is the only one among the characters who can really pull of being the Big Bad and I hope that they go all out on this. We often hear that there are no good and bad guys because it’s all about the grey area. However I think that they can still play along the grey area and make a good villain out of him especially since he is the most unapologetic character since the s1.

6. Olivia’s mission to save Mellie’s presidency from Cryus has me thinking a myriad of her reasons for this: 

She still has guilt over the affair and feels like she still owes her.

Aside from her promise to Mellie of the oval which she did indeed deliver, she feels responsible to not have the first woman President (the candidate the she managed) be taken down

She was the one who brought Cyrus into the administration even after finding out that he is the indirect killer of Vargas so in a way she feels responsible for this.

This might be quite farfetched but in a way she’s fighting against the system (patriarchal system) that took over her life and she emulated on which tarnished her personal relationships and her ‘other goals and dreams’ (which are probably her personal dreams that she rejected for power).  

What I’m curious about is what will she gain out of this? There’s the obvious that this is a final test for her versus the oval power to see if she will still be lured by it. It’s also predictable that she will fix this and defeat cyrus but will it cost her something along the way? Then does this also reunite the gladiators to be OPA again in the end meaning Quinn is out as the head or will she build her own business? Aside from seeing this turn into another win for her, what I’m ultimately hoping to see in the end is an Olivia who’s not only defined by what career path she’ll take on and what her finite job role is. We spent so much of the series seeing her make her life be only about her career and her climb to power. Aside from that we hardly actually see her really enjoy what she’s doing. I’m hoping that my last look at Olivia will not be diluted to a corkboard that holds only of her WH accomplishments and cases she fixed. 

Perhaps my favorite part in this episode is it tackling that Olivia is and not a role model. Sometimes I feel like the writers screens our comments or tweets and fuses it into the show (Fitz asking if he ever was inappropriate has always been a criticism about olitz). This episode definitely feels like it and considering Olivia as a role model could be one of Scandal’s legacy as she is after all one of the most iconic tv characters. However I like that it showed that she is not and that it was never really the intent for her character because it is really us the audience who gave that association. When I started watching Scandal, I like the rest immediately fell in love with the Olivia Pope character. I basically wanted to be like her, dress like her, and present this strong and independent persona especially at work. Throughout the seasons and just like the many, the harder it became to continue liking her character and I always felt this notion that you are doing a disservice as a fan to openly dislike about her actions and choices. Eventually I realized that Scandal is really not about this strong and powerful female character because then that’s also implying that there is no room for her to be weak. Ultimately this is really simply telling a story of this woman during a specific period in her life and personally when I started to openly interrogate her character the more then I became compelled to further analyze her. When I look back at this show I will appreciate that it showed and recognized a messy, complicated, and at times terrible woman (even on times that it doesn't make sense) because that’s very human and real. 

side note: I didn’t include the Olitz scene/s because I feel like that would already take up too much space in this already lengthy post. I’m thinking of doing a solely and overall Olitz thoughts post after this week’s episode. 

[damara-armada]

About Madison...

I'm really sad about Madison! And how poorly I think the writers treated her this season. As a character she's been declining since mid-S3, but I feel like S4 took it to a whole new level.

They didn't even give her a real storyline this season, she just stood around the whole time and occasionally whined about things. Honestly, they could have replaced her with a lamp and nobody would have been able to tell the difference. In past seasons, regardless of if she was liked or hated the character actually did things that affected the plot and kept audiences talking. In S4, it feels like they could have just cut Madison out completely and nothing would have changed.

Ever since S1, I had high hopes for Madison and thought the show would continue to work the angle of Madison being a younger version of Quinn and Rachel that was alluded to in S1. But as the seasons went on, I feel like the writers just stopped caring about Madison. I think they seemed to forget that even though she was willing to do anything to rise up the ranks (And this doesn’t apply to just dick-sucking! She pretended to be Rachel to do her community service in the very first episode.) she actually did have a desire to compete and learn how to be a producer. S2 did a pretty good job of showing her learning the ropes and I remember a few times where she even outplayed Jay and Rachel in the manipulation game.

When she chose to be on Quinn’s side in S3, I thought they’d begin to explore how sad it is that Madison seems to think that she can’t get by on her work alone and that she has to sleep with her bosses to get anywhere significant. I mean yes, she may not have had honest beginnings into her work as a producer, but S2 made it that Madison wasn’t completely useless at the job. The writers made it clear that Quinn was once in Madison’s shoes, and that as mean as she is to her, she’s trying to help Madison become like her, since it is what the writers claimed Madison wanted since the beginning. Then comes the latter half of S3, and Madison’s intelligence seems to fluctuate based on the needs of the plot. It felt like she became dumber between S2 and S3.

Nearly every other main character in this show has done far more terrible and unsympathetic things than Madison. And yet it feels like she gets shoved to the side and given the shortest end of the stick instead of being allowed any real depth as a character. I mean, take her very last scene in the show. They couldn’t bother giving Madison an actual storyline this season, but god-forbid they forget to write lines having the other characters slut-shame her, because clearly that’s important. Sometimes I wonder if the writers of the show have some sort of bias towards Madison because they knew someone like her in real life that brings bad memories or something. Her entire role in the finale just seemed like a cheap way to shit on her for laughs.

I don’t know if other fans of the show would agree with me, but I always thought Madison had more potential to be a well-rounded character in the vein of Quinn and Rachel (though obviously the show will always star their complicated relationship above all else!) but the writers never showed the same respect to Madison and instead were more willing to turn the character into the butt of the joke.

 And sure, you could argue that S4 just had less time to show scenes with Madison, but really it seems like the lack of shits given about this character has been a growing pattern throughout the last two seasons. She’s supposed to be a main character, and in S4 they turned her into a prop. Seeing them constantly drop the ball on Madison was one of (if not the most) disappointing thing about the show for me.

[jasonnkane]

PENNY

TAGGING → Stacie Kane & Jason Kane LOCATION → Art ‘n’ Soul/Hospital

Stacie: 's due date had been quickly approaching and, while they had everything ready in Penny's nursery, she felt a huge sense of panic. What if something happened during labor? Complications were common, weren't they? Or, even scarier, what if labor went perfectly, but it turned out they just really sucked at the raising children thing and completely screwed up their daughter? It was just like Stacie Kane to overthink things, get anxious, and need Jason to calm her down, but he had been at a business lunch for the last hour and the last thing she wanted was to bother him over something so minor. Inhaling just as a customer entered her gallery, Stacie silently thanked God for sending her this distraction. Standing up from her desk, smile painted brightly on her face, she crossed the room to go greet the man. "Welcome to Art 'n' Soul, is there something in particular you're looking for?"

Jason had been counting down the days until their daughter was supposed to be arriving but wasn't taking the date as a certain thing. Babies had a tendency to be earlier or later than the expected date, so he knew there was a good chance she'd make a surprise appearance or keep them waiting a little bit longer. All he knew was that Penny would be making her grand entrance into the universe sometime very soon and he couldn't wait to meet her. Never having really been an impatient person—that was definitely Stacie in this relationship—Jason finally felt what it was like to have the shoe on the other foot. His mind wandered to all of the things they had to look forward to with their daughter, even at the most inappropriate times: like right now. Instead of listening in on what the customers had in mind for the cover of this one particular book, Jason aimlessly doodled the umpteenth sketch of a penny in the corner of his notes, completely zoning everything else out.

Stacie had been chatting with the customer for a while now, listening to his stories of being a great art collector and always looking for things to add to his collection. She could tell he was wealthy and willing to spend, which meant that Stacie had to seal the deal. After all, a big sale could mean great things for her and Jason and with Penny coming any day now, she knew they could use the extra money. "Well, I have a particularly unique painting hanging on this wall over here. Maybe you'd be interested in adding it to your collection?" Stacie offered, wandering over towards the painting with the man trailing right behind her.

Jason continued shading in certain areas of his drawing, having completely drowned out the chat that was going on around him. It was only when someone actually said his name a little louder than usual did he turn his eyes away from his work. Clearing his throat, he nodded his head a long as though he agreed to whatever the hell his coworker had been saying before sending him an apologetic glance; trying harder now to pay attention to what the hell was going on here.

Stacie was right around closing the deal (the painting had even come off the wall by now), when she suddenly felt something wet dribble down her leg. Raising an eyebrow, Stacie took a glance down at the floor and spotted what appeared to be a puddle just below her dress. Mortified, the woman looked back up at the gentleman in front of her, who was looking down at the floor himself now. "Ahem," he cleared his throat, drawing even /more/ attention to how awkward this exchange was. "I'm sorry!" Stacie blurted out, smacking a hand across her gaping wide mouth, unable to believe that she had just /peed/ on the floor right in front of this guy. Only, she would have known if she was peeing, right? And she definitely hadn't peed. Which meant... /no way/. /Not/ possible. Or was it? Lowering her hand, Stacie's eyes widened and she quickly grasped at her stomach. "Holy shit, I think my water just broke!"

Jason gave it his best effort and soon enough was back on track with the direction of the meeting. There was never any "lets cut right to the point"s like there was in movies. Oh no, business meetings were full day events sometimes. Just a /lot/ of talking about a bunch of crap Jason had no interest in. When his coworker opened the floor up to him, Jason turned his attention back down to his notes and began giving a few suggestions of his own.

Stacie within a half hour, Stacie had been laying in a hospital bed, already hooked up to any necessary machines to help ease her through pregnancy. The doctor told her she hadn't dilated all that much, so she wouldn't be needing an epidural for a few hours, at least. The epidural wasn't the thing that was on her mind, though. Instead, she was wondering where Jason was. Had the hospital gotten in contact with him yet? Did he even know she was there!? In a panic, Stacie reached out to the table beside her, grabbing for her phone. When she finally had it in hand, she typed away one text after another, all a bunch of question marks and "where are you"s.

Jason was kind of on a roll when his phone started making a ridiculous amount of noise. It was just one notification after the other and although he ignored the first few (business protocol) he realized this could have been a genuine emergency. Or...maybe Stacie wanted ice cream or something. After explaining to the people in the room that his wife was pregnant and he had to check, Jason took one look at the notifications before his jaw dropped open. WIthout so much as an explanation, he turned on his heels and head straight outside to his car before driving at a ridiculous speed to the hospital; cursing at every red light. By the time he made it to the right room, he must have looked like a mad man: eyes wide and out of breath. Rushing over to his wife's side, he glanced to all the machines and gave a worried squeak. "Wh-what's happening, are you okay? Is /she/ okay?"

Stacie had been basically falling asleep when Jason burst into her hospital room, stirring her awake. Her body shook when he came to his side, turning her head over to look at him directly. "I'm okay, she's okay, I promise," Stacie insisted, giving him a reassuring smile. "But it would be great if she could hurry up a little bit. I'm sick of waiting."

Jason let out a low breath as his wife assured him everything was fine and that this was all just a normal step of childbirth. With a relieved smile, he leaned in to press his lips against her forehead before sinking down into the seat beside her bed. "Talk about making an entrance," he smirked. "She already takes after you."

Stacie "Me!? I think that comes from you," Stacie told him, a bright smile spreading across her lips as he kissed her. "The doctor said it's going to be a loooong time before anything gets started. Do you think you could grab me a sandwich or something from downstairs?"

Jason had sat down for a grand total of five seconds before Stacie had a job for him to do and he wasn't complaining: after all, she had the hard job to do now. "Sure...can you eat, though?" Jason asked, getting back to his feet. "Don't get me in trouble with your doctors, Stacie Kane."

Stacie feigned offense at the idea of her sneaking a sandwich behind her doctor's back. "I can't once labor starts, but she told me it's a good idea to get some energy in me, thank you very much. Plus, it's late and I didn't get to eat dinner!"

Jason 's eyes widened and he held his hands up innocently, playing along with the blonde. It was good that she still had her sense of humor in all of this —something that he was well aware would fade away depending on how long this labor lasted. "Okay, okay, whatever you want, mama. You get it. Don't kill me."

Stacie "Do what I say and I won't have a reason to," she said, giving him the most innocent smile, though it was intended to come across as a threat regardless. He knew better than to mess with her, especially today of all days. Things might have been fun and games for now, but once things really got started, she knew they could take a nasty turn. After all, she heard Quinn's horror story.

Jason smirked and nodded his head along obediently; knowing that today was the one day he would have to hold off on teasing because he was pretty certain things wouldn't be so funny in here real soon. "I'll go grab you that sandwich," he assured her, walking backwards out of the door. "No child birthing until I get back, alright?"

Stacie "Thank you," she said, actually giving him a legitimate smile now that she was getting what she wanted. "I'll do my best," she agreed, resting her palms on her belly. Lowering her head just a bit so that she could speak directly to her stomach, Stacie continued. "No coming out until your dad gets back, okay, little girl?"

Jason heard her speak to her stomach as he stepped out of the room and felt a smile tug at his lips. Dad. He would be a dad from this day forward. He'd been many things before: son, brother, uncle, husband...but dad? That was huge. Life-changing. Nerve wracking. Jason was just thankful he and Stacie had each other throughout this whole thing, so that they both had backup embarking on this whole parenting thing for the first time.

Stacie An hour later, and Stacie had just started to feel her body contracted and writhing underneath the blankets. It felt /strange/, like a wave moving from the top of her abdomen down to the bottom of her uterus. She could feel a tightening and it came every so often, though she would have no idea how many minutes apart if it weren't for the machines. She wasn't screaming just /yet/, but she had no doubt in her mind it was coming soon. Looking over at Jason with sad eyes, she reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. "Will you still love me if I say mean things today?"

Jason tried to settle in the room with Stacie but he was just too anxious, nervous, excited, all of the above? It was a strange mix of emotions but he wanted this part over with so that he knew his wife and his daughter were both safe and okay. His foot tapped against the floor nervously and his arms crossed over his torso as he kept his eyes on Stacie, feeling guilty for all of this pain that was coming on her. As she reached for his hand, he met her and squeezed it back gently. "Say whatever you need to, Evans. Lay it on me. I can take it," he assured her with a mischievous smile, bringing the back of her hand to his lips. "Love you no matter what."

Stacie smiled for a very brief moment, just as another contraction came coursing through her body. Why didn't her mom warn her about how painful this would be? She opened her mouth to speak, but only a scream came out. When it passed, she looked at Jason with a look of concern on her face, knowing fully well that he was standing over there feeling guilty for her pain. However, she also knew that it was worth it. Their precious baby girl would be worth the whole 9 months that preceded this birth. But she was still in /pain/ and desperate for an epidural, and she had no shame in admitting it. "I want the drugs," Stacie gasped out, her brow furrowing angrily. "Where's my freaking nurse!?"

Jason 's smile soon faded as Stacie let out an almighty scream and once more he was on the edge of his seat, looking on nervously. God forbid this process took hours and hours because he wasn't entirely sure he was equipped to handle the chaos that was childbirth. At Stacie's question, he jumped to his feet. "I'm gonna go get her," he assured her with a firm nod; heading over to the door to yell down the corridor. "This is ridiculous! My wife needs drugs!"

Stacie was incredibly grateful for Jason in this moment, considering he was doing all of the work for her and making himself look bad rather than her. The nurse came rushing in to check how dilated she was (apparently, she could only receive the epidural once she reached a certain centimeter). She hadn't been /quite/ there yet, but within the next couple of hours, Stacie /finally/ reached the place she needed to be at to receive the epidural. And, within mere moments it was like all of her pain and frustration had dissipated and she was left with nothing but euphoria. The contractions were still coming and she was still breathing heavily, but it wasn't nearly as painful as hours before. According to her doctor, Penny was making her way down and was ready to come at any moment now. All they had to do was keep waiting and hoping. In the mean time, Stacie had focused all of her attention on her phone, where she was heavily texting with her best friend who was just right outside in the hallway. Jason had called Phoebe and Zach once things got moving and they refused to go home at any point, having left Leah with Phoebe's mom who was visiting that weekend.

Jason flapped around like a headless chicken until the nurse finally decided to show up. It was actually pretty embarrassing how much of a mess he'd turned into and it was slightly concerning that the baby wasn't even there yet. The next eighteen years of his life would be incredibly sad and interesting if he fell to pieces on the regular this way. The nurse had nothing but bad news and Stacie had to soldier on through her labor pains like the trooper she was until the time came for her epidural. The change was almost immediate and it soon felt as though Jason could breathe again now that Stacie wasn't writhing in pain. The rest of the day would be a waiting game -- and not just for them, but for Phoebe and Zach, too -- and Jason remained by his wife's side, knowing Penny could show up any minute.

Stacie With the hours passing, Stacie continued pushing as necessary, only to be caught off guard when a nurse came rushing into her room. There was something wrong with the baby's heartbeat—it was dropping with each push. A look of concern washed over her face as she watched the nurse's face carefully, trying to determine whether something terrible was about to happen. She didn't deserve that, did she? God had nothing to punish her for, especially not with something like this. Chewing nervously on her lower lip, Stacie fought the desire to look over at Jason. She couldn't bear to see his reaction to it all. However, that quickly changed when the nurse spoke up once more. "We're going to have to do a c-section," she explained, causing Stacie's eyes to dart over towards her husband.

Jason felt as though the hours were dragging as time went on, causing them to be stuck in this awful transition period with his wife in pain, out of pain and following instructions to no avail. Yes, births could take a while but really? Penny would have a lot to answer for when she finally decided to show up. Jason's eyes were glued to Stacie for the most part, in fact, they only moved away when the nurse spoke up and let them know that there was a change of plans. Instantly, a sick worry took hold of him that made what he'd been going through so far today look like a joke. Something was wrong with the baby's heartbeat and they needed to get her out immediately. Squeezing onto Stacie's hand, Jason nodded along to what the nurse said and before they knew it, they were being escorted down to an operating room. Jason had to wear scrubs and sit by Stacie's side as the proceeded.

Though panicked, the fact that Jason sat by her side every single second that passed helped her remain calm. She was in good hands; her doctor knew what she was doing—she'd probably done this thousands of times before, right? And after it was all said and done, they would have a beautiful baby girl to show for it all.

Stacie wasn't sure how much time had passed between the time that she was rolled into the operating room and the moment she heard her newborn daughter cry for the first time, but none of it matter now that she knew Penny Kane was safe. The nurse held her baby girl up, smiling brightly as she announced that she had given birth to a beautiful and healthy baby girl. It turned out that her umbilical cord had been wrapped around her daughter's neck, causing her heartbeat to drop every time Stacie tried to push her out. Of course, Stacie felt guilty for causing her harm, but the important part was that she was here and she was safe now.

"Do you want to her hold her?" With tears in her eyes and a mesmerized look on her face, Stacie slowly nodded her head, reaching her hands up above her to take hold of her daughter. She cradled her close to her chest, using her finger to gently rub the skin of Penny's cheek. "She's so beautiful," Stacie whispered to no one in particular. She was riding her labor high, and simply cherishing every little thing about her baby girl.

Jason 's mind ran crazy as his surroundings and the whole process of what was happening became a total blur. He had absolutely no idea of the time that was passing, all that he could focus on was his wife's wellbeing and that of their daughters. Like a statue, he remained by Stacie's side throughout the entire thing. The words that the doctors and nurses were saying flew right over his head because he'd gone into some sort of blind panic about the whole thing upon hearing that they needed to operate. However, all panic ceased and everything else but love for this tiny bundle of joy faded away as they brought their daughter back to Stacie. Leaning in to get a good look as she was placed in Stacie's arms, Jason's heart felt completely full and he felt all kinds of emotions well up as he laid eyes on Penny Kane. Grinning brightly at Stacie's comment, he leaned in to press his lips against her forehead before placing another on his daughter's, feeling like he was complete.

[spaceorphan18]

The CrossRhodes Saga 2/?

40s Noir Klaine AU

Rating: Eventual M or E Warnings: None at the moment Word Count: 1907 Summary: FBI Agents Kurt and Brittany go undercover as a married couple to investigate the CrossRhodes Lounge - a jazz club with some mysterious things going on.  

Yup, It’s a total 40s Noir AU with undercover identities, black widow sham marriages, and Cooper fucking Anderson.

A/N: Thanks to @snarkyhag for betaing! :)  Yes, I know where this is going - but please note the ‘saga’ in the title.  Also - I don’t claim to be historically accurate.  

AO3 Link

[ Chapter 1 ]

/

Chapter 2

Sue acquired a place for them not too far from the lounge.   The apartment, which was modest in size for a New York living space, would double as a place for operations and as a place for them to stay while undercover.  Brittany spent the first hour they were there finding all the secret hiding places; false bottoms in the drawers, extra space behind the closet wall, a safe behind a landscape oil painting, and two hollowed places in the floor.  There was even a tiny secret room behind the bookcase in the living room that connected the living room to the bedroom.  A desk had been squished into the tiny space ‘for your convenience’ Sue had said.  

Although Sue hadn’t mentioned it, Kurt thought there was a pretty good chance that the whole place was probably bugged, too.  There was something about the apartment that felt as though someone was always watching you.  And knowing Sue, someone probably was.

He and Brittany would assume false identities, Mr. and Mrs. Richard and Betty Tubbington.  Something told Kurt that Brittany had helped Sue pick out the names.  They were a well-off couple, Richard Tubbington having a lavish women’s clothing line.

“Why just women’s clothing?” Kurt had asked.  

“Because something about you just screams blouse,” Sue had replied.

Kurt had blinked slowly then turned around and walked right out of her office.  He wasn’t sure why he bothered asking her these things.

Betty was a stay-at-home wife, who began looking for a hobby to get her out of the house every once in awhile. Richard would stand in as a manager, to make sure there was no funny business, and find her some interesting work.  Claiming that they were a friend of a friend of one of the regulars, Richard had heard about the opening  singer/dancer/waitress and called the lounge to set up an audition for her.

Kurt had been hoping to talk to Santana Lopez herself but instead he had a conversation with a woman named Quinn Fabray, who claimed to be the talent handler for the lounge.  Ms. Fabray sounded indifferent at best about the inquiry but didn’t question their interest.  They were able to secure the audition the next day.

The night of the audition was their first night in the apartment.  Kurt and Brittany spent the afternoon going over their plant to make sure they were on the same page going forward.   Brittany, despite her eccentricities, listened to his plan carefully.  Tonight would just be about scoping out the place, getting the feel for it and its people, and making sure Brittany acquired the position.

Getting ready for the evening, Kurt scoped out the closet and found that it was full of clothes for each of them.  Kurt picked out a navy suit, the only thing in the closet that looked freshly purchased, and not like Sue had found it at a flea market.  The jacket was a little too big, the pants slightly too small, and Kurt wished he had time to see his tailor because a few adjustments would make the whole ensemble work.  But this wasn’t for him, was it.  It was a part he had to play.  He vaguely thought back to a time when he loved to play different roles, acting out his stories for his mother in the kitchen.  That felt like a long time ago now, even if there was still something appealing about being someone who isn’t you.

Kurt put on his shoes and checked the mirror again to make sure his hair was still styled nicely.  He had finished before Brittany, who was locked in the bathroom, so he gave himself a moment to examine the apartment.  

There was something surreal about the whole ordeal, the entire place was set up as if they actually had a life there. They hadn’t been allowed any of their personal belongings, Sue had made sure they had all their necessities ready and waiting for them.  Despite the fact that they could return to their own places at any point, it felt like they were having an extended vacation at a very strange hotel.  

It was modestly furnished, though Sue’s gaudy taste in furniture did not match his own; there were books on the bookshelves (plenty of mystery novels, Kurt noted, completely Sue’s sense of humor), and there was even food in the fridge.  There were very few personal items, however, with the exception of a few photos he and Brittany had posed for a few days before, which included a mock wedding photo that sat on the nightstand.

Kurt took a moment to look at the wedding photo - two happy smiling people supposedly on the best day of their life.  It was amazing what good lighting and a nice angle will get you.  Even he bought that they were in love with each other.  But the photo wasn’t any more real than anything else in that apartment.  

Marriage was a goal he knew he would never achieve, and he had long ago made with his peace with that.  But still, it’d be nice to have someone to come home to, someone who could hold him at night, and kiss him good morning.  Someone he could grow old with.  Someone who would like him for just being him…

“Kurt - I need your help!” Brittany called from the bathroom.  

She was mostly ready, wearing a red dress that had a black and white polka dotted underlining, and black heels.  Her hair was done, barrette in the back, curls over her shoulders. Her make-up was flawless - dark red lipstick suited her well.  She was absolutely stunning.  It bemused him sometimes how often he was in the company of such wonderful women, and never found a single one of them attractive beyond objectively.  

“What can I do for you, Brit?”

“Can you put this necklace on me?”

“Sure?”

Kurt gently swept the hair off her neck, and clasped the necklace in place.  He then looked up and saw their reflection in the mirror.  They made a lovely couple, in the right costumes, under the right light.  The reflection looking back painted a nice picture, a loving husband and wife, but their images were just as mocking as the wedding photo.  It was only a facade.  It would always only be a facade.  

“Why are you being so mopey?” Brittany asked, giving him a frown.

“I not being mopey.”

“You’re totally being mopey.” She turned around and pointed a finger at him.  “If you’re going to be my husband you can’t be mopey like this.  Especially when you’re going to spend the evening with some as clearly amazing as I am.”

He couldn’t help but crack a smile.  “Alright, I’ll try not to be mopey.”

Her eyes lit up, and she gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek.  “This is going to be a lot of fun, Kurt Hummel.  Just you wait.”

//

By the time the arrived at the lounge, Kurt was in better spirits, and he and Brittany entered arm in arm.  The bouncer was a bald man name ‘Puck’ who had a bit of a bark to him.  Over the years Kurt had seen a lot of guys like these, and either he or Brittany could take him down with just a threat if need be.  The staircase was barely lit, and tight enough that he and Brittany had to descend in single file.  The stairs, however, were misleading.  The lounge itself was not what Kurt had expected.

The room was massive for New York City, sprawling about three sizes larger than the bars he was used to.  Christmas lights of gold, red, and orange lined the ceiling, creating a warm glow about the place.  There were sturdy wooden chairs and tables, each with a little candle in the middle, and to the right, along the wall, was a black, sleek, newly built bar.  The stage was to the left, and had a small walk way into the main part of the room, so the singers could participate with the audience at closer range if desired.  A small pit for the jazz band was located just off the side of the stage.  There was a far door on the opposite side of the room, most likely leading to bathrooms, backstage, and management offices.

Sue had said slinky, but he now doubted that she had stepped inside the place before giving them the assignment.  The place was, actually, quite welcoming and Kurt stopped at the bottom of the stairs for a moment to take it all in.  The place was only a quarter or so full - but it was early in the evening, surely the numbers would grow as the night went on. The band played a lively number, while an African-American woman sang and an Asian-American woman tap danced along.    Instead of loners sitting around drinking by themselves as he expected, most of the patrons were sitting in small groups, chatting happily as they sipped their colorful cocktails, a few of them dancing to the music in the aisles.  

“This place is magical,” Brittany said, just as the music wrapped up with an enthusiastic wail on the final note.  Kurt could only nod in agreement.  The place erupted into cheers as the women took their bow.  

Kurt and Brittany were slowly making their way to the bar across the room when the women made their way off stage.  The lounge grew quiet as the band began to play again, this time a slower number.  

The curtains parted and out strode a very gorgeous man up to the microphone.  He closed his eyes, and began to sing, slowly, carefully, the first few notes of the song.  Kurt became immediately transfixed, hanging onto every note.  Then, his eyes flew open, alive with delight as the song picked up tempo.  Kurt knew who he was - there was no doubt about it.  He had seen the file, maybe lingered on the photo a little too long while going through it, but photographs did not do him justice.  Blaine Anderson was breathtaking in person, and it took Kurt completely off guard.  

His voice was rich and inviting, his energy captivating, and sensuality just oozed from him.  He used the microphone as a partner, singing into it almost seductively.  He knew how to work the audience, how to use the music to his advantage to draw them in, make them watch, and try as he might, Kurt couldn’t look away.  He was frozen on the spot - just watching.  Blaine made a point to interact with the audience, reached out to them, winked at them, and for one brief second, made eye contact with Kurt and, damn, he even smirked.  

Kurt’s heart began to race.  This was a bad idea.  He couldn’t already be entwined with a subject’s fiance - he can’t.  But even worse, he couldn’t be this enamoured with a straight man.  This was a bad, bad idea.  

Still…

As the song wrapped up, Brittany grabbed his hand - anchoring him back to reality.  He looked to her, because he couldn’t look back up at the stage, and she gave him a kind smile.  For a moment, he wondered if she knew.  

The bar was tended by an Asian-American man with a friendly smile named Mike, according to his nametag.

“Ah, first timers?” he asked.  Kurt and Brittany exchanged looks and nodded.  “Well, welcome to CrossRhodes Lounge - first drink is on the house.  What can I get you?”

Behind Kurt, Blaine Anderson had gone into his second song, and it took every ounce he had not to turn around and look.  “Something sobering, actually,” Kurt said.  

Mike laughed. “And for the lady?”

“Oh, just some water,” Brittany said.  “I’m auditioning tonight - have to be my best!”

“Auditioning, huh?” Mike said.  “Oh! You must be here to fill in Sugar’s old spot.”

“Sugar?” Kurt asked.

“Yeah, she didn’t exactly leave in good graces.  But that’s about all I know.”  Mike took a step back and put his hands up as if he didn’t want to really talk about it.  Kurt made a mental note to look into that later.  “I’m guessing you wanna talk to Quinn.  She should be in the back, hold on.  Sam! Hey, Sam!” Mike called out to a blond man leaning against the wall watching the women who were performing earlier sing back up for Blaine.  “You’ll have to forgive him, he’s sweet on Mercedes up there.  Sam!” Mike gave Sam a whack on the arm to finally get his attention.

“Ouch, what?” Sam said, rubbing his arm.  

“We have a new hire prospect,” Mike said.  “Can you go grab Quinn?”

Sam lit up as he noticed Kurt and Brittany.  “Sure! It’d be nice to have a few new faces around here.”

Sam left towards the back.  

“So, is Santana Lopez here?” Kurt asked.  “I heard she owns the place.”

Mike gave a noncommittal shrug.  “I never know where she is.  Breezes in and out when she feels like it.  Why? Do you need me to pass a message along.”

“No, merely curious.”

Another minute passed and Sam returned with a woman Kurt supposed was Quinn Fabray.  Quinn’s blonde hair was tightly pulled up in a high bun, she wore a blouse and skirt, more appropriate of a secretary at an office than at a cocktail bar, and a scowl on her face.  

Kurt stepped forward to introduce himself.  “Hello, Ms. Fabray, my name is Richard Tubbington and this is my wife Betty.  I’m here representing her.  She’s quite the talented girl, and I’m sure she’ll be a good fit to your staff.”  Kurt attempted to throw in an overly fond smile but he wasn’t sure how well it played with Quinn, as she ignored him completely to talk with Brittany.

“Hi, I’m Betty,” Brittany said, maybe a little too overly sweet.

“Quinn.  What are your qualifications?”

“Oh,” Brittany tilted her head to think about it.  “I’m mostly self taught, but I know how to move so people like it.”  She unexpectedly wiggled her butt tauntingly close to Kurt, enough that it made him blush a little.  “See, even my husband likes it.”

Quinn gave her an odd look.  “Well, I’ll definitely audition you, but I’m afraid this job won’t pay much.”

“We won’t be asking for much,” Kurt said.  “We’re not in need of money.  Betty would just like to spread her wings a little, wouldn’t you, B?”

“Yes, I barely am able to get out of the house,” Brittany added.  “And I don’t think the world really appreciates just how unicorn I really am.”

Kurt pretended what Brittany said was completely normal.  “She really is fantastic.”

“Well, they’re almost done, so we’ll just get you up there to see how well you can sing,” Quinn said.  “Would you mind coming with me to the back? We’ll get you ready for the stage, and there’ll be a few more questions I’d like to ask.”

Quinn took Brittany’s arm to lead her to the back.  Kurt made a motion to leave with them, but Quinn stopped him dead in his tracks with a glare.  

“Do you really need to have that much control over your wife?” she asked.  Kurt noticed Quinn playing with the wedding ring on her left hand, an expensive gold band, large diamond, very new.  Huh.  

“I just assumed…”

“Well, she’s the one auditioning. Not you.”

“I’ll be fine,” Brittany gave him a kiss on the cheek.  “You worry too much about me.”

Kurt didn’t argue, and Brittany left with Quinn, leaving him alone at the bar.  

Mike came back in another minute with bright drink and the reassurance that if nothing else, it could lift his spirits.  He wasn’t so sure but took the drink anyway.  It had a sharp taste, bitter with a bit of a tang added to it.  He snacked on a few peanuts and took a few more sips, not sure if he liked it but he began to feel more relaxed and it was nice, for a moment, to feel unclenched.   His head began to feel a little fuzzy, not in a bad way though, and he smiled as the women on stage began another tap number.

“I really doubt the government could cover up something that big,” he heard Mike say to Sam behind the bar.

“It’s definitely aliens,” Sam said, slapping the back of his hand to the other to drive home his point.  “My cousin was down there, he knows.”

“Your cousin is also high ninety percent of the time,” Mike argued. “He also talks to cactuses on a regular basis.”

Kurt began to giggle, just a little.  He should tell Sue, she’d get such a big kick out of the conversation.  He then thought of work, and that he should start making a list of things to go on his report when he returned home, but his brain wouldn’t quite connect the thoughts.  

He was trying hard to concentrate when someone brushed, no cupped, his elbow.  Startled, Kurt looked up to see Blaine Anderson take the stool next to him.  

“Hi,” Blaine said.  At first Kurt thought maybe Blaine was talking to someone else, but other than a lone, elderly man at the far end of the bar, and a couple of young girls giggling with their heads together at the other end, no one else was there.  No, Blaine Anderson was definitely speaking to him; Blaine Anderson with his warm, honey-colored eyes and his charming smile.  “My name’s Blaine.”

“Kurt,” Shit.  “I mean Richard K. Tubbington.  I go by my middle name, Kurt.”

“Well, hello Richard K. Tubbington-I-actually-go-by-Kurt,” Blaine said.

There was something enchanting about the way he talked.  What was going on? Was there something in that drink?  Blaine rested his hand on the bar - his hand close to Kurt’s, close enough to reach out and touch.  Kurt’s hands became sweaty at the thought - when was the last time that had happened?  

“Santana said you’d be waiting for me during my set.”

“She did?”

“Yeah, but she didn’t say you were so, um, well,” Blaine turned away for a moment, almost nervously.  “It’s very nice to meet you.”

“It’s, um, nice to, uh, meet you, too,” he said, a little dumbly.  Words were becoming hard.  Blaine up close was almost too much to handle.  He noticed that Blaine’s hair began to curl at the ends where the gel was loosening.  Focus, Kurt, focus.   “I haven’t, um, met Ms. Lopez, only Ms. Fabray.”

“Oh?” Blaine looked confused.  “I guess it doesn’t matter.”

Blaine reached barely an inch further and brushed Kurt’s fingertips with his own.  Kurt was stunned, frozen in place, to dumbstruck to talk as Blaine ever-so-lightly caressed his fingers.  Was he flirting? Oh god - what was going on? Sue? There’s no way Sue did this, did she?  He didn’t really care, not when Blaine was back to looking at him with large, adoring eyes.  He was pretty sure that no man had ever looked at him like that before.  

There was a sharp, high pitch note coming from the jazz band that jolted Kurt back to reality.  Managing to break away from Blaine’s gaze, he glanced up at the stage, where Brittany was taking her place.  She waved at him as her number started up.

“Oh, it’s Br-Betty.  Betty’s starting now.” His head was still so hazy.

“Betty?”

“My, um, wife.  Betty, she’s on stage right now.”

Blaine retracted his hand immediately and whipped his head around to look.  “What? Santana didn’t mention...I mean, god, married? I… I…”

“Bla-aine!” The woman calling his name could only be Santana Lopez.  Kurt recognized her immediately from the file - only, as enthusiastic as she was about seeing Blaine, she seemed much more intimidating in person.   She was followed by another man, who looked like he wasn’t sure whether or not he wanted to be there.  “Blaine, I’m sorry we’re late.” She pushed between Kurt and Blaine, not really even noticing Kurt was there at first, and threw her arms around Blaine’s neck.  “And I brought someone to...” she threw a quick look around to Kurt and eyed him suspiciously.   “To wrap up those business negotiations.  His name is Jeremiah.  He runs the tux shop down the road, you guys, I’m sure, will have lively conversations about bowties in no time.  Feel free to use my office.”  

Blaine’s eyes grew wide, and he looked apologetically over at Kurt.  There had been a mix-up.  Of course this was some kind of mix-up.  Kurt deflated as that realization became clear.  He didn’t understand what all this business stuff was about, but Kurt had not been Blaine’s intended target.  That was for sure.  Still - was flirting standard practice with all possible business prospects? Something was fishy about the whole thing.  Kurt had a job to do, even if the job suddenly felt so much harder than it did a week ago.

As soon as Blaine left for the backroom with Jeremiah, Santana spun on her heel, and eyed him hard. “Hi, Santana Lopez.  We haven’t met.  What are you doing in my lounge talking with my fiance?” Her unexpected preditorialism caught him off guard, but only for a second.  Her fierceness rekindled his sense of purpose.  And he didn’t appreciate the condescension.  

“You haven’t seen me because I’ve never been here.  I’m Richard K. Tubbington.  And we were talking.”  Which is probably the only legal thing going on in this place, he wanted to add, but wisely did not.

Santana crossed her arms across her chest in disgust.  “Just what I need, another dick in my life.”  

“He’s also manager and husband of Betty Tubbington,” Quinn had come up behind Santana.  Her face was controlled, but underneath she was seething.  “Betty is auditioning tonight to take Sugar’s place - which you would know about if you ever showed up for work.”

“I’m trying to keep this business floating, which means sometimes I have to go outside and get help,” Santana said.  The animosity between the two women was tense.  “No one gave you permission to hire anyone.”

“Whatever help you’re trying to get is not working,” Quinn shot back.  “They inquired, they’re here, and they’re cheap.  You don’t really want another Sugar on your hands, do you?”

“You still need to talk to me.”

“Fine - you tell her to stop singing.”

Quinn held her hand out towards Brittany, was on her second song, and in the audience, leaning on one of the tables, flirting with a flustered Sam by pulling his tie.  Santana saw Brittany and became speechless.  She looked at Kurt, confused, then back to Brittany, who was doing a shoulder shimmie, then back to Kurt.  

“You are married to her?” Santana asked as if she couldn’t quite believe it.

“Yup.”

“As in you’ve actually had sex?”

“Santana!” Quinn snapped.  

Brittany spotted Kurt, pointed a finger at him, then crooked it towards her.  She danced her way to the bar, perfectly in time with the music, then gave a hip bump to Santana, who let out a little yelp, played with Quinn’s bun, then booped Kurt’s nose before heading back towards the stage.  Santana blinked slowly, not sure what just happened.  A twitch of a smile formed on Quinn’s lips.  

“I think we should hire her,” Quinn said, hands on her hips.  “God knows this place could use a little tension relief.”

Santana watched Brittany for a moment more, thinking hard.  “Alright fine,” she gave in.  “C’mon, Mr. Tubbington, let’s negotiate.”

They were in! Kurt felt a wave of relief wash over him, even if getting in was always the easy part.  

Santana motioned for him to follow her, and they made their way to what he suspected would be the office area.  Blaine and his ‘business associate’ were on the way out, Blaine laughing easily at something Jeremiah had just said.  The moment he saw Santana and Kurt, his face fell, and he quickly looked away, deliberately trying not to make eye contact with Kurt.  Kurt’s heart dropped.  Santana patted Blaine on the cheek as they passed, not noticing anything was wrong.  Kurt noticed, though.  And he hated that.  

He was not going to let Blaine get to him, he promised himself.  This assignment would remain completely professional.  It had to.  He followed Santana down the hallway, and tried hard to get Blaine’s enticing, hazel eyes out of his head.