The Best Thing
Santana/Brittany, PG-13, 2.1k
And as you climb into your car, tears streaming down your face, you realize that you've just lost the best thing that's ever been yours.
And as you climb into your car, tears streaming down your face, you realize that you've just lost the best thing that's ever been yours.
You're excited.
You're excited in a way you can't explain because it's been weeks–weeks–of two minute Skype calls and tired texts that didn't really make any sense, and now you're here. You're finally here, outside your favorite Italian restaurant, grinning up at the stupid sign hanging above the entrance, just knowing she's inside.
She's inside and within minutes she's going to be in your arms.
Your body shudders with excitement.
But you shake it off, knowing that the sooner you get in there the better, and lock your car before walking towards the entrance.
You're wearing your hair down, soft curls draping over your shoulders–the way she likes it–and you've got your best dress on. You wanted to look your best, it is the first time you're seeing each other in the flesh in over a month and it's never been that long before. It's never been that long and you just want to see the way her face lights up when her eyes meet yours. You want to see her throw her head back as she laughs, and how that little crinkle forms between her eyebrows.
You just want to see her.
And actually, while you remember, you've got to thank Sam.
He's the only reason you're here, and even though you two ended on a strange note last year during your weird 'convincing-yourself-you-don't-love-Brittany' phase, you're glad that you two stayed friends. Because he's been there for Brittany. He's been there in a way that you can't, and he's actually the only thing that's been keeping you sane because he can comfort Brittany now that you're hundreds of miles away.
Trying to wipe the huge smile off your face, you take a deep breath and push your palm, flat, against the entrance to Breadstix. It swings open easily, and you step inside, wincing at the sudden loudness of the music in the room. It reminds you a lot of Valentines Day earlier this year, when you had Brittany in your arms and you were twirling around on the dance floor, kissing her in front of everyone at school since Figgin's decided to be the biggest douche and prevent you from doing it in school.
It makes your heart squeeze, but in a good way, and with a smile on your face, you begin to make your way through the throng of people celebrating. You're not really sure what it's for, but then your eyes find the banner hanging across the stage–seriously, where do they put that thing when it's not out?–the smile on your face drops.
She didn't win.
Brittany's not president, and suddenly your face is dropping and you feel that same thrum of guilt pang through your chest that was there last week when Sam Skyped you and told you to get your shit together because Brittany was falling apart without you.
It wasn't your fault you couldn't be there, though, you tried to explain that. College is deadly. If you make one tiny mistake then you're kicked to the curb and you have to admit, it's not anything like you thought it would be. But that doesn't matter, you chose to go there, you made that active decision with your parents, and so you're going to stick it out.
That still doesn't make you feel any better for not being able to be there for Brittany, though. Not at all.
Your eyes search around the room, but all your find are slightly familiar faces and no Brittany. Pulling your eyebrows together, you shake your head and return your feet to the floor, wondering where the hell she is. Sam said they'd be here tonight, and at first you'd freaked a little because why would Sam and Brittany be going to Breadstix together?
But then you'd told yourself how stupid it was to think about Sam and Brittany, like, ever being a thing because Sam would never do that. Brittany would never do that and you know that.
Once again though, that thought doesn't make you feel any better.
Blaine's the first to see you, and you watch his face light up but his eyes stay distant. You know there's something on his mind but right now you're not too concerned with that. You and him were never close, so it's not like you should feel bad, but you can't help that nagging feeling that says it's about Kurt.
You only think that because you've looked in the mirror after you and Brittany have had a fight, or a disagreement as she says, and you have that exact same look on your face that he does right now.
It never lasts long, though, because Brittany always gets you to talk about it–now that you're open about your feelings–and it ends up in soft kisses and hushed apologies, mixed with a few I love yous that sink into your skin and curl around your heart.
Still, you walk over to Blaine and take a seat opposite him, keeping one eye open and the other on him. “Hey.”
“Hey, Santana. I didn't know you were coming back,” Blaine says, trying to push his voice back to that cheeriness it always carries, but it fails and you think he knows it by the way he looks away.
“Yeah,” you nod. “For Britt. Which, by the way, have you seen her?”
You try to slip it in casually but Blaine just smiles and bites his lip, and you know you've failed the attempt.
“They were at the booth behind you a minute ago...” he trails off, resting one elbow on the table on waving his hand around carelessly. “But I didn't see where they went.”
You try a smile but you don't think you can hide the uneasiness you feel for not knowing where she is. “Thanks, Blaine. See you around.”
Blaine nods at you but his mind isn't in it, and he lets out a long huff as his chin comes up to rest on his hand. So you start walking away from him quicker, tilting up onto the balls of your feet to scan over the crowd and trying not to yell at your stupid genes for not making you taller.
About five minutes pass and there's still no sign of either of them, and you can feel the anxiety sinking through your body and weighing you down. You keep telling yourself you're being stupid because if Brittany's with Sam then she's safe, but there's a part of you that's shaking its head at that and muttering under its breath that you know there's something else to it.
You consider just ringing her, and asking her where she is but that'd just ruin the surprise of you turning up, and so instead you bite down on your lip and think, one final idea popping into your head of where they might be.
You dodge the people celebrating, thinking how ridiculous they are for doing that because Blaine's president and Sam's vice president, and neither of them are really here–Sam physically, Blaine mentally–but you don't really care about that and so you keep searching for the last idea in your mind.
And then when it comes into eyesight you grin, because you can hear her laughing. Her sweet melodic chuckle flowing through the air and you know she's there.
It's by the disabled toilets, down the hall away form the ladies and mens, and you only know of this spot because you and Brittany used to come down here to make out whenever you had two boring ass dates and wanted to stay away from them for a bit. Nostalgia floods through you and all these memories of you two giggling together, holding hands and swinging each other down the hall until you reached that spot, that gap, which was big enough for both your bodies and dark enough that if a cripple wanted to use the bathroom, they couldn't see you unless they stared properly, and then you two would slid between it, pressing your bodies together and your lips next.
Thinking about kissing Brittany makes your body buzz, and you twist the hem of your dress in your leather jacket covering your shoulders in your hand nervously because she's there.
And with another step, you are too, about three meters away from the gap and gazing into the darkness of it.
But then you see it, and everything inside of you dies in an instant.
Brittany's got her back pressed against the wall, hands folded and tucked behind her, and Sam's leaning in, one arm propped above Brittany's head and his body way too close for comfort. They both have stupid smiles on their faces, and you can tell by Brittany's that they're about to kiss because she has that smile on her face she always does before she kisses you.
Your heart jumps up into your throat, and suddenly you can't breath. Your eyes begin to sting and blur with tears but you can't move. You can't do anything but stare and then Sam's leaning down and Brittany's tilting her head up and you think you're about to be sick. It's curdling there, in the pit of your stomach, but you can't do anything but watch. Watch as a smile tugs at the corners of Brittany's lips, as Sam shifts that little closer and smirks as their lips move closer and closer, and you feel the acid rise in your throat.
And then it comes out.
It comes out but it's not what you thought it was. It's a choked gasp and it stops Brittany and Sam. It stops them and makes Brittany's head whip around, her blue eyes growing so wide you think they're about to pop out her head but you can't think about anything else but the fact that your girlfriend–your Brittany–was about to kiss someone else. Was about to kiss Sam.
“Santana!”
It's Brittany and your head begins to feel too light. Your vision begins to waver and your mouth is so dry you don't think you'll ever produce enough saliva to make it feel normal again. Your hand comes up to your chest, and your nails dig into the fabric of your dress because you're not even sure you can feel your heart beat anymore.
“Santana–It wasn't–We weren't–“
Your eyes find Brittany's and you don't realize until you look at her that you're shaking your head. Your shaking your head because Brittany's pushing Sam away and sliding out of the dark gap, slowly coming towards you with a broken expression, glossy blue eyes and hand out in front of her, like she's stalking towards a dangerous animal, unsure of how it's going to react.
And you know she's doing it because she can read you better than anyone else. Even right now, you're not sure of how to react. You don't know whether you want to break down in tears or tear Sam's head off.
You just don't know and your hands ball into fists by your side, your body reacting to the uncertainty you feel.
“I didn't mean–I just miss you," Brittany's blurting and you listen but you're not taking any of it in. You can't. "And I was lonely and Sam–Please.” Brittany's voice breaks and you can see Sam shift uncomfortably behind her, his feet leading him towards Brittany and that's what kicks your body into action.
As soon as cold fingers touch your arm, you jerk away. Your eyes narrow into that glare you've perfected over the years you spent 'not loving Brittany' and your arms begin to shake. You can see Brittany backing off, her breath coming out short and ragged, and you know she's not going to touch you. She knows better than that and right now you're like a grenade; one touch and you'll explode.
And even though you're pretty sure your heart was just broken by your girlfriend–by your Brittany–even though you're sure you've just gone into an emotional state of numbness that you might not be able to drag yourself out of, you'd still never explode in front of Brittany.
You'd never explode because that means hurting her and even though what you feel right now is making you want to laugh bitterly and explode anyway, you just shake your head at Brittany, telling her that you're not doing this right now and you walk away, allowing the tears to flood out of you.
Because you can't do this.
You can't and as you push through the crowd of people and burst through the exit that's also an entrance, you know that you're never going to be able to do this. Not anymore. Not while you're not here all the time and Sam is, being the new you and doing the things you should be doing.
And as you climb into your car, tears streaming down your face, you realize you've just lost the best thing that's ever been yours.
You're excited in a way you can't explain because it's been weeks–weeks–of two minute Skype calls and tired texts that didn't really make any sense, and now you're here. You're finally here, outside your favorite Italian restaurant, grinning up at the stupid sign hanging above the entrance, just knowing she's inside.
She's inside and within minutes she's going to be in your arms.
Your body shudders with excitement.
But you shake it off, knowing that the sooner you get in there the better, and lock your car before walking towards the entrance.
You're wearing your hair down, soft curls draping over your shoulders–the way she likes it–and you've got your best dress on. You wanted to look your best, it is the first time you're seeing each other in the flesh in over a month and it's never been that long before. It's never been that long and you just want to see the way her face lights up when her eyes meet yours. You want to see her throw her head back as she laughs, and how that little crinkle forms between her eyebrows.
You just want to see her.
And actually, while you remember, you've got to thank Sam.
He's the only reason you're here, and even though you two ended on a strange note last year during your weird 'convincing-yourself-you-don't-love-Brittany' phase, you're glad that you two stayed friends. Because he's been there for Brittany. He's been there in a way that you can't, and he's actually the only thing that's been keeping you sane because he can comfort Brittany now that you're hundreds of miles away.
Trying to wipe the huge smile off your face, you take a deep breath and push your palm, flat, against the entrance to Breadstix. It swings open easily, and you step inside, wincing at the sudden loudness of the music in the room. It reminds you a lot of Valentines Day earlier this year, when you had Brittany in your arms and you were twirling around on the dance floor, kissing her in front of everyone at school since Figgin's decided to be the biggest douche and prevent you from doing it in school.
It makes your heart squeeze, but in a good way, and with a smile on your face, you begin to make your way through the throng of people celebrating. You're not really sure what it's for, but then your eyes find the banner hanging across the stage–seriously, where do they put that thing when it's not out?–the smile on your face drops.
She didn't win.
Brittany's not president, and suddenly your face is dropping and you feel that same thrum of guilt pang through your chest that was there last week when Sam Skyped you and told you to get your shit together because Brittany was falling apart without you.
It wasn't your fault you couldn't be there, though, you tried to explain that. College is deadly. If you make one tiny mistake then you're kicked to the curb and you have to admit, it's not anything like you thought it would be. But that doesn't matter, you chose to go there, you made that active decision with your parents, and so you're going to stick it out.
That still doesn't make you feel any better for not being able to be there for Brittany, though. Not at all.
Your eyes search around the room, but all your find are slightly familiar faces and no Brittany. Pulling your eyebrows together, you shake your head and return your feet to the floor, wondering where the hell she is. Sam said they'd be here tonight, and at first you'd freaked a little because why would Sam and Brittany be going to Breadstix together?
But then you'd told yourself how stupid it was to think about Sam and Brittany, like, ever being a thing because Sam would never do that. Brittany would never do that and you know that.
Once again though, that thought doesn't make you feel any better.
Blaine's the first to see you, and you watch his face light up but his eyes stay distant. You know there's something on his mind but right now you're not too concerned with that. You and him were never close, so it's not like you should feel bad, but you can't help that nagging feeling that says it's about Kurt.
You only think that because you've looked in the mirror after you and Brittany have had a fight, or a disagreement as she says, and you have that exact same look on your face that he does right now.
It never lasts long, though, because Brittany always gets you to talk about it–now that you're open about your feelings–and it ends up in soft kisses and hushed apologies, mixed with a few I love yous that sink into your skin and curl around your heart.
Still, you walk over to Blaine and take a seat opposite him, keeping one eye open and the other on him. “Hey.”
“Hey, Santana. I didn't know you were coming back,” Blaine says, trying to push his voice back to that cheeriness it always carries, but it fails and you think he knows it by the way he looks away.
“Yeah,” you nod. “For Britt. Which, by the way, have you seen her?”
You try to slip it in casually but Blaine just smiles and bites his lip, and you know you've failed the attempt.
“They were at the booth behind you a minute ago...” he trails off, resting one elbow on the table on waving his hand around carelessly. “But I didn't see where they went.”
You try a smile but you don't think you can hide the uneasiness you feel for not knowing where she is. “Thanks, Blaine. See you around.”
Blaine nods at you but his mind isn't in it, and he lets out a long huff as his chin comes up to rest on his hand. So you start walking away from him quicker, tilting up onto the balls of your feet to scan over the crowd and trying not to yell at your stupid genes for not making you taller.
About five minutes pass and there's still no sign of either of them, and you can feel the anxiety sinking through your body and weighing you down. You keep telling yourself you're being stupid because if Brittany's with Sam then she's safe, but there's a part of you that's shaking its head at that and muttering under its breath that you know there's something else to it.
You consider just ringing her, and asking her where she is but that'd just ruin the surprise of you turning up, and so instead you bite down on your lip and think, one final idea popping into your head of where they might be.
You dodge the people celebrating, thinking how ridiculous they are for doing that because Blaine's president and Sam's vice president, and neither of them are really here–Sam physically, Blaine mentally–but you don't really care about that and so you keep searching for the last idea in your mind.
And then when it comes into eyesight you grin, because you can hear her laughing. Her sweet melodic chuckle flowing through the air and you know she's there.
It's by the disabled toilets, down the hall away form the ladies and mens, and you only know of this spot because you and Brittany used to come down here to make out whenever you had two boring ass dates and wanted to stay away from them for a bit. Nostalgia floods through you and all these memories of you two giggling together, holding hands and swinging each other down the hall until you reached that spot, that gap, which was big enough for both your bodies and dark enough that if a cripple wanted to use the bathroom, they couldn't see you unless they stared properly, and then you two would slid between it, pressing your bodies together and your lips next.
Thinking about kissing Brittany makes your body buzz, and you twist the hem of your dress in your leather jacket covering your shoulders in your hand nervously because she's there.
And with another step, you are too, about three meters away from the gap and gazing into the darkness of it.
But then you see it, and everything inside of you dies in an instant.
Brittany's got her back pressed against the wall, hands folded and tucked behind her, and Sam's leaning in, one arm propped above Brittany's head and his body way too close for comfort. They both have stupid smiles on their faces, and you can tell by Brittany's that they're about to kiss because she has that smile on her face she always does before she kisses you.
Your heart jumps up into your throat, and suddenly you can't breath. Your eyes begin to sting and blur with tears but you can't move. You can't do anything but stare and then Sam's leaning down and Brittany's tilting her head up and you think you're about to be sick. It's curdling there, in the pit of your stomach, but you can't do anything but watch. Watch as a smile tugs at the corners of Brittany's lips, as Sam shifts that little closer and smirks as their lips move closer and closer, and you feel the acid rise in your throat.
And then it comes out.
It comes out but it's not what you thought it was. It's a choked gasp and it stops Brittany and Sam. It stops them and makes Brittany's head whip around, her blue eyes growing so wide you think they're about to pop out her head but you can't think about anything else but the fact that your girlfriend–your Brittany–was about to kiss someone else. Was about to kiss Sam.
“Santana!”
It's Brittany and your head begins to feel too light. Your vision begins to waver and your mouth is so dry you don't think you'll ever produce enough saliva to make it feel normal again. Your hand comes up to your chest, and your nails dig into the fabric of your dress because you're not even sure you can feel your heart beat anymore.
“Santana–It wasn't–We weren't–“
Your eyes find Brittany's and you don't realize until you look at her that you're shaking your head. Your shaking your head because Brittany's pushing Sam away and sliding out of the dark gap, slowly coming towards you with a broken expression, glossy blue eyes and hand out in front of her, like she's stalking towards a dangerous animal, unsure of how it's going to react.
And you know she's doing it because she can read you better than anyone else. Even right now, you're not sure of how to react. You don't know whether you want to break down in tears or tear Sam's head off.
You just don't know and your hands ball into fists by your side, your body reacting to the uncertainty you feel.
“I didn't mean–I just miss you," Brittany's blurting and you listen but you're not taking any of it in. You can't. "And I was lonely and Sam–Please.” Brittany's voice breaks and you can see Sam shift uncomfortably behind her, his feet leading him towards Brittany and that's what kicks your body into action.
As soon as cold fingers touch your arm, you jerk away. Your eyes narrow into that glare you've perfected over the years you spent 'not loving Brittany' and your arms begin to shake. You can see Brittany backing off, her breath coming out short and ragged, and you know she's not going to touch you. She knows better than that and right now you're like a grenade; one touch and you'll explode.
And even though you're pretty sure your heart was just broken by your girlfriend–by your Brittany–even though you're sure you've just gone into an emotional state of numbness that you might not be able to drag yourself out of, you'd still never explode in front of Brittany.
You'd never explode because that means hurting her and even though what you feel right now is making you want to laugh bitterly and explode anyway, you just shake your head at Brittany, telling her that you're not doing this right now and you walk away, allowing the tears to flood out of you.
Because you can't do this.
You can't and as you push through the crowd of people and burst through the exit that's also an entrance, you know that you're never going to be able to do this. Not anymore. Not while you're not here all the time and Sam is, being the new you and doing the things you should be doing.
And as you climb into your car, tears streaming down your face, you realize you've just lost the best thing that's ever been yours.