au (or is it?) set during that duets episode or whatever it was when b&s had their fight. THIS WAS HEARTBREAKING FOR ME TO WRITE, FOR REASONS.
Brittany stands in front of her locker, tugging at the end of her ponytail and chewing on her lower lip. She knows her combination, she really really does. She's just, you know. Forgotten it. Temporarily.
It would probably be easier to remember if she were like, actually talking to Santana, because Santana always remembered for her whenever Brittany forgot, but like... Brittany isn't going to go running back just to get her locker combo after S so blatantly brushed her off and stuff. So she's stuck here in consternation, rapping her fingernails against the lock, as she tries to remember exactly what it --
"It's 34, 26, 28," someone behind her says, and Brittany whirls to see Quinn.
"How did you...?"
Quinn rolls her eyes, fondly, and moves up to turn the lock for Brittany. "Like we haven't been friends for years, B. I know you."
Which is a good point. Brittany's always been caught up in the world of Santana, as far as she can remember, and sometimes... well. Sometimes it makes her forget that she has other really good friends, too. Friends who aren't sex friends, though.
Britt switches out some textbooks. "Thanks," she tells Quinn.
"No problem," Quinn says. "Uh, hey, I heard you and Santana had a fight. I'm sorry."
That's right, Quinn and Santana have been fighting too. Brittany looks at the other blonde, sharply. Quinn raises an eyebrow back at her. "Thanks," B says again, and when they turn to go down the hall together, she slips a hand onto Quinn's back, right above where her outfit changes from shirt to the pleats of the Cheerios skirt. Quinn lets her hand stay there.
They start walking through the halls like that between all their shared class after that. Past the water fountains, past the offices, past the choir room. Past Santana, who stares at Brittany's hand on Quinn's back and Quinn's self-assured smile and the way her arm sometimes brushes against Brittany's side, fingers skimming the hem of B's skirt.
At lunch the next day, Santana bangs her tray down at the table where Brittany and Quinn are sitting. "She's just using you," she says, huffily. Neither Brittany nor Quinn can tell who Santana's talking to.
"Boo, you whore," Quinn says, unconcernedly, switching her perfectly-made ponytail over one shoulder and inspecting a nail before taking a sip of her chocolate milk.
Santana stares. Brittany stares, and grins. Quinn looks at both of them evenly, then moves a hand over so that it's lightly covering one of Britt's own. Which makes B wonder: is this a declaration of sides in some battle for power? Is Brittany the prize for the top of the pyramid? Or is it... something else?
She finds she doesn't matter, three hours later, when she's daringly kissing Quinn goodbye and Quinn is just smiling in response, maybe cupping Brittany's cheek with a soft small hand, and not making lewd comments about warm bodies, not running off to duet with someone else, and not... well. Not being like Santana.
i seriously need to upload glee icons
Brittany stands in front of her locker, tugging at the end of her ponytail and chewing on her lower lip. She knows her combination, she really really does. She's just, you know. Forgotten it. Temporarily.
It would probably be easier to remember if she were like, actually talking to Santana, because Santana always remembered for her whenever Brittany forgot, but like... Brittany isn't going to go running back just to get her locker combo after S so blatantly brushed her off and stuff. So she's stuck here in consternation, rapping her fingernails against the lock, as she tries to remember exactly what it --
"It's 34, 26, 28," someone behind her says, and Brittany whirls to see Quinn.
"How did you...?"
Quinn rolls her eyes, fondly, and moves up to turn the lock for Brittany. "Like we haven't been friends for years, B. I know you."
Which is a good point. Brittany's always been caught up in the world of Santana, as far as she can remember, and sometimes... well. Sometimes it makes her forget that she has other really good friends, too. Friends who aren't sex friends, though.
Britt switches out some textbooks. "Thanks," she tells Quinn.
"No problem," Quinn says. "Uh, hey, I heard you and Santana had a fight. I'm sorry."
That's right, Quinn and Santana have been fighting too. Brittany looks at the other blonde, sharply. Quinn raises an eyebrow back at her. "Thanks," B says again, and when they turn to go down the hall together, she slips a hand onto Quinn's back, right above where her outfit changes from shirt to the pleats of the Cheerios skirt. Quinn lets her hand stay there.
They start walking through the halls like that between all their shared class after that. Past the water fountains, past the offices, past the choir room. Past Santana, who stares at Brittany's hand on Quinn's back and Quinn's self-assured smile and the way her arm sometimes brushes against Brittany's side, fingers skimming the hem of B's skirt.
At lunch the next day, Santana bangs her tray down at the table where Brittany and Quinn are sitting. "She's just using you," she says, huffily. Neither Brittany nor Quinn can tell who Santana's talking to.
"Boo, you whore," Quinn says, unconcernedly, switching her perfectly-made ponytail over one shoulder and inspecting a nail before taking a sip of her chocolate milk.
Santana stares. Brittany stares, and grins. Quinn looks at both of them evenly, then moves a hand over so that it's lightly covering one of Britt's own. Which makes B wonder: is this a declaration of sides in some battle for power? Is Brittany the prize for the top of the pyramid? Or is it... something else?
She finds she doesn't matter, three hours later, when she's daringly kissing Quinn goodbye and Quinn is just smiling in response, maybe cupping Brittany's cheek with a soft small hand, and not making lewd comments about warm bodies, not running off to duet with someone else, and not... well. Not being like Santana.