Title: The World is a Stage 22/?
Pairing: Brittany/Santana, Brittany/OC
Rating: 15 - R
Word Count: 2600
Disclaimer: Glee is copyrighted and belongs to Ryan Murphy and Fox. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Use of other personalities is not a reflection of their real lives and is completely fictional.
Summary: Sort of AU/Future fic, the lives of Santana and Brittany in their early twenties.
Spoilers: References to Seasons 1 and 2.
A/N: Soooo sorry for the delay, I know it's been a while and for that I apologise. Thank you so much for sticking with it and I hope you enjoy the next part.
A warm whisper caressed her ear, her focus on the small handheld gadget wavering, a rush of warmth spread through her stomach, her heart leaped into her throat. No matter how many times she heard that voice, it always had the same effect on her. She momentarily closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath.
“The girl over there is totally checking you out.” The voice said, low and husky.
“She is not Brit.” Santana said with a sigh, opening her eyes and following the blonde’s gaze before dropping her focus back to her cell phone.
“She totally is. You’re a super sexy superstar. And she’s hot.” Brittany said as she leaned further over the arm of the brunette’s director’s chair.
“Rachel Berry is not hot Brittany. Fact.” Santana said sternly. Brittany fell back into her own chair howling with laughter. She held her stomach from the strain put on her muscles. Santana smiled, genuinely, wide and bright. She loved to hear Brittany laugh. She hadn’t heard her properly laugh since high school. She glanced at her girlfriend, so young and carefree in this moment of pure innocence.
“Not . . . not . . .” the blonde struggled to regain her composure and formulate words. Her giggle marathon continued. Santana couldn’t help but laugh along with her.
“Watch you don’t pop a stitch there Brit.” The actress warned. Brittany shrieked again, passersby were now beginning to look in their direction. It took several minutes for the blonde’s laughter to subside.
“Not Rachel.” The dancer finally managed still gasping for air. Santana frowned.
“Who then? I didn’t see anyone else.”
“Oh there was someone else. I’ve seen her before, a runner or something. She was starring.” Brittany replied.
“I bet she was staring at my beautiful girlfriend.” Santana said, her hand reached over and squeezed the dancer’s knee. Brittany instinctively leaned in toward the Latina once again, her tone lowering.
“I want to kiss you.”
“I know babe, me too, but we can’t here. I got the studio on my back remember?” Santana explained.
“Yeah.” Brittany sighed. “We’ll just have to make up for it when we get home.” She said with a grin.
“Home.” Santana repeated. It had always felt like an oversized building she called a house, not once did it feel like a home until Brittany had come to stay. Before the dancer had returned to work, it was Santana’s mission to get home as soon as she had wrapped for the day and to spend as much time there with Brittany as possible. Whether it was curled up on the sofa in front of the television, cuddling in bed or cooking with one another in the kitchen, it was home. But she knew it wouldn’t last too long, Brittany had insisted she moved back into her apartment when she had fully healed. At least until she sold the place. The Latina was dreading when the day would come around. However she vowed to make the most of having the blonde around her house, and the way Brittany would creep into her room each morning to wake her with a kiss, a cuddle and a smile, and more recently lengthy make out sessions. Never one to disappoint her girl, Brittany would push herself until the pain became unbearable, no matter how many warnings Santana would give her. The Latina always insisted that Brittany’s health was more important than anything else and there would be plenty of time to make up for it later. Today was Brittany’s first day back at work on set and she was determined to return to full fitness as soon as was humanly possible.
“What you thinking about?” Brittany asked, swiping the cell phone from Santana’s hands. The Latina frowned.
“What are you doing?” Santana asked.
“Taking a photo.” Brittany said, her forehead wrinkled with confusion as her finger swiped at the touchpad before her. “You didn’t answer my question.” She said, eyes never wavering from her task. Santana’s eye’s drifted upward, she rested her elbow on the arm of her chair and placed her head atop her hand and pondered thoughtfully.
“You.” She said, “And me.” She looked at Brittany and smiled warmly. “Us.” Just as the blonde snapped a photograph. The dancer’s eyes lit up with delight. “What?”
“This is the perfect picture.” She answered excitedly, turning the device around to show her girlfriend. “Can you put it on my phone? I want to see it all the time.”
“You can see me all the time.” Santana said. Brittany took a deep breath.
“When I move out I won’t be able to see you all the time.” She said sadly. Santana reached across and took Brittany’s hand.
“You don’t have to move out.” Santana offered.
“I don’t?” Brittany asked, “But I thought we agreed . . . until I sell . . . we said . . .”
“You said.” Santana answered. “I just went along with it, I want whatever you want, just so long as we’re together.”
“Don’t.” Brittany said shaking her head.
“Don’t what?” Santana’s eyes widened, panic began to set in. The blonde squeezed her hand as she answered.
“Say that.” She answered. Confusion plagued the Latina. “It’s not bad.” The blonde rushed out, “It’s the opposite. When you say things like that I just want to jump you.”
“Oh jeez Brit.” Santana rushed out with the breath she was holding.
“I forgot to tell you!” exclaimed the excited blonde. Santana waited patiently for the dancer to continue. “My dad called, he’s started my divorce proceedings.”
“Ohmygod.” Santana squealed uncharacteristically and jumped out of her seat. The sound of a cough nearby halted her excited movements and immediately switched into cool, collected Santana. “That’s cool.” She said nonchalantly with a casual nod, waiting for the intruder to walk on by. She leaned in to Brittany, her hands resting on the arms of the blonde’s director’s chair. Their noses were inches apart. When she stopped, Brittany’s eyes darted to the Latina’s lips and back again to the sparkling brown eyes.
“Aren’t you going to kiss me?” she asked. Santana cocked her head to the side and raised an eyebrow.
“Do you listen to anything I say?”
“Sometimes,” began Brittany “but sometimes . . .” she trailed off and licked her lips. Santana smiled, she knew exactly how the blonde would have finished that sentence. The blue eyes before her had glazed over. Santana smirked, she loved the affect she had over Brittany and had missed the way the blonde could be so transfixed over her body, she was determined this time to not take Brittany for granted and cherish every moment she had with her. She had lost her once, and almost twice and that was simply too much pain to bare.
Brittany was entranced, so besotted was she with Santana she often found it hard to breath, the Latina excited her so much it was almost implausible. So many times had she dreamed of having Santana in her life again, but to be in this situation, in a proper, loving, adult relationship with the love of her life had often seemed unreal and beyond possible. Particularly when she had married Bryan. She thought it was a perfect solution, to finally sink the feelings she had for Santana. But the more famous the actress became and the harder it became for Brittany to ignore. She had accepted it was her punishment for leaving Santana in the first place and she should stay with Bryan and be a good wife. That was until Santana had acknowledged Brittany in a television interview and Brittany had heard the Latina say her name. It threw the blonde dancer into a tizzy and she knew that she had to have Santana in her life again, in whatever capacity and so made it her mission to do so. One which proved to be the best decision of her life.
It was late, Santana had been required to stay long after most of the cast and crew had wrapped and left the set for the day. She had a monologue she had to film and during numerous rehearsals had proven she performed it best with minimal peering eyes and stares of awe. And here she was, at midnight, about to wrap following the longest shooting day of the movie so far.
After dropping Brittany at home and promising to creep into her room and kiss her goodnight on her return, the Latina reluctantly left. She watched Brittany waving in her rear view mirror as she steered the vehicle down the drive, smiling sadly as the blonde disappeared out of sight. Almost as soon as she reached the end of the drive, her cell phone beeped indicating the arrival of a message. The car rolled to a stop and before pulling onto the main road Santana checked the message. It was a picture of Brittany with a sad face and several kisses. The Latina smiled and chuckled quietly to herself and typed out a reply. ‘Love you Brit, home soon xxx’. The drive to the studio was a fairly short one, the radio keeping the actress company as she followed the familiar route through Los Angeles.
Santana breathed a huge sigh of relief as soon as she heard the word ‘wrap’ bellow from the director’s lips. She closed her eyes momentarily and smiled, this was very pleasing for a number of reasons. Number one, she had just nailed the one scene she was dreading since she received her script, it was award winning material the director had told her and had strongly pushed her into an award winning delivery, she guessed that time would tell on the latter, but she was more than happy with her delivery, as were the crew that were present. Number two, she had been up at five that morning and in work for six, it had been an exhausting day, but made better by the fact Brittany had been beside her for most of it. Number three, and her favourite reason, it was time to go home, to see her girlfriend and kiss her goodnight. In fact, she thought, she would crawl into bed beside the blonde and cuddle her. This separate beds thing that they agreed upon during Brittany’s recovery was frustrating her no end, and considering the blonde had made a return to work, surely they could at least share a bed? Santana nodded in agreement, with the decision she had just mentally made by herself. She shrugged her shoulders, she knew Brittany would not oppose, she was incredibly tactile and it must have been driving her as crazy as it did Santana. Their past relationship in high school had been many things, from sweet and loving to passionate and tumultuous and everything in between. But ultimately they were each other’s true love and their relationship had ended very badly causing years of heartbreak, particularly for Santana who had never found the inclination to move on. Since Brittany came back into her life and particularly since the former cheerios got back together, Santana was determined to do things differently, to take things slowly and let their relationship naturally progress. It would take a lot of effort on the Latina’s part, as easy it as it was to love Brittany, she could not bare the thought of her leaving again, so would make every effort to prevent it from happening again.
She headed toward her trailer, picking up her cell phone from the coat pocket hung on the back of her director’s chair and typed out a quick message. ‘Just wrapped, home soon beautiful xxx’ She smiled goofily as she made her way to her destination, tiredness taking it’s toll, the Latina let out an almighty yawn. She spun around suddenly upon hearing a clatter. Her hand reached her chest, her heart pounding beneath her palm. Rolling her eyes at her own irrational jumpiness, she turned back and continued to walk. Her pace quickened, being on set this late at night was not uncommon, but having a limited crew had her heart racing and an overwhelming sense to get out quickly. As she neared her trailer, she could see a figure sitting on the steps. Santana narrowed her eyes, wondering who could be there to see her so late, if it was possible her heart rate quickened further. The Latina could hear her heartbeat echoing in her ears and she felt a slow shiver creep from the base of her spine all the way up to her neck. Her pace slowed, she hugged her arms around her body, suddenly very aware of the chill factor in the air. She was now a couple hundred yards from her trailer, the figure stood, Santana let out a huge breath as she caught the familiar face under a nearby light.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
She stirred, the dreams dissipating from her mind and the realisation that she had been asleep took over, she was waking. Her eyes opened slowly, taking in her surroundings. She was in bed, not the bed she usually slept in, she observed. Her sleep heavy head, lifted slightly off the pillow, but with a groan she dropped it back onto the soft cushion. Her eyes drifted closed once again. Her mind switched. Something was not quite right, something was missing and so she felt backwards across the other side of the bed. The sheets were cool. One eye opened and focussed on the clock on the bedside table. Seven thirty. Being alone at this time was not completely beyond the realms of possibility she thought. They were both due on set for nine o’clock this morning. She decided to get up and investigate. Reaching for the bathrobe on the back of the door, she hugged it close and sniffed the soft cotton material and smiled at the scent of the other woman. She shrugged on the robe, opened the door and stepped out onto the landing. The house was quiet, but that was usual, she was used to the silence echoing through the large home. Tentatively she stepped forward and headed to the other bedroom. She opened it slowly, quietly, willing herself not to make a sound should she wake the sleeping beauty. This was the room she was most familiar with, her mind drifted to the conversations that took place the previous day regarding that night’s sleeping arrangements. She hadn’t got it wrong had she? Her mind was so overcome and tired from work she could barely think straight. Yesterday had certainly put a strain on her. She sighed upon seeing an empty bed and headed down the stairs for a much needed cup of coffee. She made a beeline for the coffee pot, smiling upon seeing a fresh pot and poured herself a cup. Picking up the cell phone on charge on the worktop she read the few messages she had received. She turned around and saw a beaming blonde sat at the breakfast bar, a cup of coffee in hand and a gossip magazine before her.
“Hey. Good morning.” The blonde welcomed with grin.
“Hey.” Came the tired reply.
“I got a text to say she finished work, but I don’t think Santana came home last night Quinn.” Brittany replied with a frown.
To be continued . . .