#if i really wanted to try id have pulled up his 3d model somewhere but uhhh </3 whateversies

[xkurzel]

Hello. I know you’re busy but someone must write genius Brittany taking Santana on what she thinks is a boring date to the museum of mathematics

“Britt, hey!”

“Hi!”

Santana wraps her arms around Brittany’s back with a breathy laugh, closing her eyes as Brittany giggles into her ear and wraps strong arms around Santana’s shoulders. Brittany embraces with her whole being, lifting Santana off her feet, and Santana can’t help but giggle.

It feels good to have Brittany here in New York.

Far too good, Santana realizes, as Brittany sets her back down slowly, keeping her in her arms, and her whole front slides down against hers.

Santana clears her throat and takes a respectable step back and out of the embrace, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

“So, where do you want to go?”

/

It was a little awkward, at first, getting used to being with each other again but not with each other.

(Kurt certainly didn’t make things any easier by loudly mentioning he and Rachel will be gone majority of the weekend with the most smug look on his face before Santana had to literally push him out of the door.)

But after a stilted round of small talk as Santana busied her hands with getting Brittany’s duffel bag all settled and put away, they found themselves sitting on the couch, feet tucked under themselves and chatting like there haven’t been months and new cities between them.

“Okay, but you have to promise you’ll give it a chance.”

“Brittany,” Santana laughs at the nervous expression on Brittany’s face, her lip caught between her teeth, “I promise.”

“Even if it’s boring.”

Santana’s smile grows wider. “I doubt it’ll be boring.”

“You don’t even know what it is yet.”

“Well, then, out with it! We only have a weekend for your visit. Come on, I promise I won’t judge.” Santana holds out her pinky finger for good measure, wiggling it towards Brittany.

Brittany rolls her eyes fondly, linking her pinky around Santana’s, before her mouth twists into a shy smile. “Okay, well… I want to check out the Museum of Mathematics.”

“You couldn’t have picked something with alcohol?” Santana deadpans before bursting into giggles over the expression that crosses Brittany’s face. Santana tightens her grip around Brittany’s pinky as she tries to pull away. “I’m kidding!”

“God,” Brittany shakes her head, “New York’s definitely changed you.”

“Oh, you love it,” Santana says breezily, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, well…” Brittany trails off, glancing off to the side, smile tugging at her lips.

Santana taps at Brittany’s thigh with her free hand, tugging her up off the couch with their still linked pinkies. “Come on. I think MoMath has a deal for NYADA students and we can steal Hummelberry’s IDs. Dibs on Kurt’s.”

“Ugh, you’re the worst.”

/

Santana barely gets their ticket stubs back from the ticket attendant before Brittany’s tugging at her arm and dragging her into the Museum of Mathematics.

Brittany quickly drops her grip, opting instead to grab a museum map from the information desk and spread it wide open, smoothing out the folds. Her eyes are bright blue and giddy, her hands fluttering over the page.

“I want to check out every exhibit. Especially the square-wheeled trike. It looked so fun from the pictures I saw online, but it apparently has really long lines so maybe we save that one for when it’s less busy. Ooh, there’s two floors, too.” Brittany’s eyes cut over to Santana when she doesn’t respond to find her gaping at the expansive first floor and the whizzing colors and shapes and models spread all throughout. “What?” Brittany says around a grin.

“Nothing, it’s just… I wasn’t expecting a math museum to look like this.”

Brittany laughs at the wide-eyed look on Santana’s face. “What were you expecting?”

“I dunno. Like papers? How is all of this stuff about math?”

Brittany shakes her head, lips slightly upturned, folding up the map and tucking it under her arm, so she can grasp Santana by the shoulders and look her straight in the eyes. “Santana, math is in everything,” she states matter-of-factly. Santana just arches an eyebrow in response, still looking a little dumbfounded and somewhat dubious, so Brittany shoots her a wide grin. “Don’t worry, I’ll show you.”

/

The square-wheeled trikes were definitely worth the wait, solely for the expression on Santana’s face of pure disbelief when the tricycle started moving after a hesitant first pedal, even after Brittany had explained the math while they were in line.

The two quickly jump from exhibit to exhibit, exploring the first floor. Brittany helps Santana map out the right trajectories to get the robot basketball shooter to sink a shot successfully and Santana lets out a loud whoop when the ball swishes through the net that draws enough attention to them that they both end up in giggles. Santana swats at the keyboard to mess up the formula Brittany’s inputting into the Formula Morph, ruining the 3D model of a cat that Brittany was trying to create. (Santana’s heart thuds solidly in her chest when Brittany enters in a formula that creates a 3D heart before Brittany quickly fiddles with the numbers and it goes away in a flash.) Santana nods along, staring up at Brittany as she rushes out the explanation of the math behind each exhibit, her hands animated and gesturing, and Santana understands almost none of it but is awed by all of it.

They’re waiting for the elevator to head to the second floor when Santana catches something on the screen nearby that’s running through a slideshow of recent math news.

“Brittany, is that your name?” Santana marches over to the screen, pressing a finger right to where it says: Recently proposed by MIT student, Brittany S. Pierce.

The screen flashes onto the next item but Santana runs her finger over where Brittany’s name was, her mouth still agape.

Brittany scratches the back of her neck, cheeks tingeing pink. “A bunch of people helped, though. It wasn’t just me.”

Santana quickly shakes her head. “Their names aren’t on here, Britt.” She turns back to the screen, waiting for the news item to scroll by. “Wow,” she breathes out once Brittany’s name reappears and she’s able to read more about the blonde’s recent project before it whisks away again.

“You sound surprised,” Brittany muses beside her.

“No, not surprised. Proud,” Santana says simply and her heart swells with it, the pride she feels for Brittany, of Brittany.

Brittany’s eyes go soft and her voice goes quiet when she responds. “Thanks.”

/

They’re tackling the Math Square on the next floor, the crowd having waned as the day went on and as the two got lost in all of the exhibits so the floor is mostly empty, when Santana finally gets the courage to ask.

“So how’s Boston?” Santana walks slowly along the path of the maze being projected on the floor, the surrounding area around them dim and dark to let the projected light display properly.

“It’s cool,” Brittany says, somewhere along the other side of the maze. Santana keeps her eyes on her feet as she places one in front of the other, taking measured steps. “Different.”

Santana hums, taking a left turn and following it down to a dead end before turning around and trying another path. “Yeah? Good different or bad different?”

“More like weird different.”

“How so?”

“I don’t know. Like… I thought I’d be taking actual classes when I went to college. But instead, I’m mostly in a room with a bunch of old guys who just stare at me a lot while I do math.”

Santana glances up to where Brittany is in the maze, her arms outstretched to keep balance as she takes one step in front of the other like Santana’s doing. “That is weird.”

Brittany shrugs, making her way down a path to her right, and Santana tries to remember if she already took the one she’s on already. “Yeah. But I mean, the program’s why I got early acceptance and a part of my scholarship so I guess it’s okay. I do get to take some regular classes, though.”

Santana takes a path that leads her somewhere new and she tries to focus on her steps and following Brittany’s voice as she makes her way through the maze. “And how do you like those?”

“I like those more since I get to take them with some friends. And no, they’re not all nerdy, before you ask.”

Santana grins at how well Brittany knows her. “I wasn’t going to.”

“Mhm, sure.”

Santana waits a few beats, taking a few steps ahead aimlessly and watching the way the squares light up beneath her feet.

“How about New York? How do you like New York?”

She tries to sound as casual as possible when she says it but she doesn’t think she succeeds by the measured hum she gets in return.

Santana keeps her head down, her face obscured by her hair, but she’s too busy watching her feet that it’s only until she sees a pair of worn Converse at the end of a dead end that she finally looks up.

Santana doesn’t know quite how she got here or maybe how Brittany made her way over to her but they’re standing in the middle of the maze, light softly projected all around them in the dim of the room, the maze casting a muted glow on their skin and their clothes and coloring them all differently.

Brittany’s giving her a look that feels too familiar and Santana feels that pull she’s spent months trying to resist, the pull she’s always felt, tugging ever present, like a string drawn straight through the center of her chest.

“Can I be honest?”

“Always.”

Brittany’s smile curls around the curves of her lips. “I think I like New York better.”

[jontracy]

linchpin

In which John Tracy is the valued member of International Rescue he should be. A snippet that will eventually be an entire story.

“Are you sure there’s no one who needs rescuing? A ship sinking somewhere? A collapsed mine? Please, John, I’ll take a cat up a tree; I’m begging you here.”

Gordon’s eyes were wide and pleading, larger than life in the blue tint of the hologram. But John hadn’t been suckered by that look in years.

“You’re the one who volunteered to be Parker’s replacement for the day while he’s on jury service,” he reminded his brother, smirking. “In fact, I seem to remember you insisting that Lady Penelope not hire a temp, that you’d be thrilled to help her instead.”

Gordon shot a glance at something over his shoulder before leaning in closer to his communicator, scowling. John let himself drift back a little; he really didn’t feel like counting his brother’s nose hairs.

“I thought it was just gonna be driving her around a little, maybe going to tea, or whatever!” Gordon hissed. “But it’s just shopping. All. Day. And most of these places don’t even have comfy chairs! My feet feel like they’re about to fall off, and I’ve inhaled so much perfume, I haven’t been able to smell anything for hours.”

John’s smirk was a full-blown grin now.

“You still gonna try to tell me how great romance is?” he asked.

Gordon made a face at him.

“I’m starting to think you might have the right idea after all, Mr. Space Ace,” he said. “I asked Lady Penelope how many more stores she thought she might want to go to, and she just laughed.”

John’s smile widened. He knew his friend was torturing Gordon on purpose. She liked to shop, sure, but even she rarely devoted whole days to it.

Before he could respond to Gordon, a flashing alarm signal appeared on his console. He squinted at it, noting its designation and relative location.

“I’ve gotta go,” he said.

Gordon brightened at once.

“Is it a rescue?” he asked. “Do you need me? I can-”

“It’s coming from space,” John cut in. He wrestled his amused expression into a stern look. “You made your bed, and now it’s time to lie in it. Give Lady Penelope my regards.”

He cut Gordon’s signal and focused on the alarm. It was indeed coming from space, not too far from where Thunderbird 5 was orbiting, in fact. According to the ID info that came attached to the beacon, it was some kind of satellite, a small model. There only appeared to be one crewman on board.

John brought up the audio.

“-yday, mayday! This is Stelair Satellite 2-1. I’ve been hit by an asteroid, and my life support systems are failing. Can anyone hear me? I repeat-”

“Stelair Satellite, this is International Rescue,” John said calmly, his fingers flitting over his controls as he ran the usual scans. “I’m reading you loud and clear. Please give me the details of your situation.”

“My satellite got clipped by an asteroid a minute ago. I thought maybe I’d gotten by without much damage, but I’m venting oxygen like mad! My supply will be completely gone in a few minutes!”

“Please stay calm,” John advised. “We’ll get you to safety.”

He used the connection to the satellite to gain access to its systems. He pulled up a set of 3D schematics, and grimaced. That pilot hadn’t been kidding when he said he only had a few minutes left. He muted the connection to the satellite, and called Tracy Island.

Scott was the only one seated around the ring of couches, frowning down at a tablet in his lap. It felt a little ridiculous to address one person as International Rescue, so John just said, “we have a situation.”

Scott set his tablet aside at once, listening carefully as John outlined the problem.

“Sounds simple enough,” he said. “Alan and Virgil just finished up that lunar shuttle mission; have them reroute to the satellite.”

“No need,” John said, switching Scott’s feed to his wrist communicator and launching himself into a graceful glide across the control room to the exit. “This is close enough for me to deal with myself. And like you said, it should be fairly simple.”

“How about we send Thunderbird 3 anyway?” Scott said, tolerantly amused. “Save them from having to rush later when you get attacked by more killer robots.”

“That was one time,” John grumbled good-naturedly.

He did have to smile at the memory though. Not only had he made a good friend that day, but he’d gotten to run a rescue with his littlest brother when he wasn’t the one who needed rescuing. It was a nice first, although he could’ve done without the ghost scare.

“All right,” he added to Scott as he entered the small prep bay for the exo-pod and felt it rumble to life around him. “Go ahead and call them for me. But I’m still gonna get a head start.”

“Careful, John. Your Tracy is showing.”

The words were said teasingly, but they still made something in John swell with quiet pride. He certainly wasn’t the flashiest of the Tracy boys, didn’t crave the action and excitement that the others seemed to, but never once had he doubted that he belonged with them, that he was one of them. And it was nice to get a reminder of that from his big brother every once in a while.

And maybe there was a little rush of exhilaration in his veins as his flight suit assembled around him. Maybe something inside him did hum with anticipation at the thought of running his own rescue.

“Exo-pod is go,” he said a moment later, and then he was flying through the stars.

God, but he would never get tired of this. He knew his brothers didn’t quite understand how he could spend so much time up here in space, how he could prefer it to being on Earth, but that was because no words could ever convey what this felt like. To be one with the cosmos, no noise or atmosphere or people separating him from the stars, from the fabric of the very universe.

But he didn’t have time to bask in the view just then.

“Stelair Satellite, are you still reading me?” he said into his comm.

“Yeah, yes! I can hear you! Where are you? I’m running out of oxygen!”

John knew the feeling. He let the calm urgency of a rescue settle over him as he took the controls of the exo-pod. He’d had a little more practice since the first time he’d used this thing, and it felt natural and easy now to coax a burst of speed from the machine, to let it carry him toward his mission.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m on my way.”