Why I am writing this story: I made a small joke in the AN of Chapter 11 for Keep Me Where the Light Is about not being able to lock Santana and Brittany in a basement and base an entire multi-chapter fic on their interactions alone.

Some of you guys seem to think, whether in jest or not, that is an excellent basis for a story. Okay, LOL. Challenge Accepted.

Since I will be writing this as a side project to KMWTLI and only if there is enough reader interest to keep it going, please make sure to comment if you want to encourage me to continue writing this story.

Quick Disclaimer: I borrowed these characters from the Fox show Glee. I obviously do not own them nor any songs/lyrics I may end up referencing in this story. The rest of this story is mine from my creative brain alone, so please do not use any part of it without my written permission.

It is AU, and I've marked this for a mature audience since it has strong language and might end up containing gratuitous sex. Thanks! Kim

Things That Go Bump in the Basement (part 1)

by mamatots

Friday, November 20, 2009

4:14 PM

"Watch your step…the stairs wobble a bit," Brittany cautioned, flipping on the light switch and moving a small doorstop to prop open the basement door, "Don't let this close."

"Britt, it's freezing down here," Santana Lopez complained as she followed her best friend down a rickety, wooden staircase.

The brunette stuffed her hands inside the pockets of her William McKinley High School letter jacket, thankful for the warmth of the wool material as a late-Autumn chill passed through her slender body.

"You could always wait upstairs," Brittany reminded the Latina, ducking her head as she lowered her tall form under the wooden beam that held up the structure of the floor above them.

"No way! It's creepy up there in the dark with that cat lurking around," Santana grimaced, stepping off the last step in the dank basement.

"Princess Penelope wouldn't hurt a fly, Santana," the blonde defended the old, rust-colored tabby.

"Well, that's good for your grandmother's flies, but that furbag is clearly racist," the Latina lamented, "You saw what she did to my leg the last time I came with you to feed her."

Brittany shook her head at her best friend's dramatics, remembering only a small scratch on Santana's calf, saying with a smile, "That's her way of letting you know she likes you."

"I'd prefer for her to like me a little less then," Santana retorted, moving behind Brittany as she pulled a heavy blanket off some boxes that were stacked in the corner of the room.

Brittany's mother had sent her around the corner to her grandmother's house to find the extra-large roasting pan they sometimes used for holiday cooking, and since Santana was spending the night at the Pierce house as she regularly did on the weekends, Brittany made the Latina walk with her on the errand.

Mrs. Pierce was expecting additional guests for this year's Thanksgiving with her sister's family coming into town, driving back their mother who had been up in Minnesota visiting for the past two months.

The fifteen-year-old always hated when her parents forced her and her little sister to make the long drive between Lima, Ohio and the suburbs of Minneapolis, but Brittany shivered at the thought of making that drive with parents, four siblings, and her elderly grandmother all stuffed into a mini van.

Her grandmother was quite a bold personality to say the least, but she had only worsened in attitude since the death of Brittany's grandfather last year. None of the family realized how much the sweet old man kept his wife in check until he was gone.

Brittany snickered to herself when she remembered her mom commenting over the phone the night before to Brittany's aunt that two months in the same house with their mother was two months too long.

The girls had just arrived home from school on the Friday that started their week long Thanksgiving vacation when Mrs. Pierce sent them on this mission for her, saving her a trip while her pies baked in the oven. The girls did not mind going, because it was the first Friday they did not have to cheer at a varsity football game since the start of their sophomore year in September.

The best friends enjoyed their fifteen minute walk together around the block, gossiping about the loser geeks in the new Glee Club they'd recently joined as spies for their Cheerios coach, Sue Sylvester.

Brittany then led them inside through the dark carport like she entered each time she went over to water the house plants and feed her grandmother's cat. It was always funny to Brittany when Santana went with her, because it never failed that the typically-fierce and rebellious Latina cowered behind her, looking to avoid contact with the temperamental feline.

Once inside, Brittany looked under the large cabinet where Mrs. Pierce thought she remembered her mother keeping the giant pan. When it wasn't there or in the pantry closet, Brittany thought it might be in a storage box in her grandmother's basement.

The young teen had not been down in the basement for several months, and it suddenly seemed dustier and darker now than she remembered it being.

Brittany scanned the labels on the front row of boxes, seeing Christmas Ornaments, Books, Knitting Supplies.

"Help me move these," the blonde requested, looking over her shoulder at Santana who stood behind the taller girl, picking the bright red nail polish off of her index finger.

Santana sighed heavily. She had not signed up for any manual labor when she went with her friend on this quest.

"Santana?" Brittany prodded with slight exasperation.

"Oh okay," the brunette rolled her eyes and grabbed the box labeled Old Photo Albums off the top of the Knitting Supplies, turning to the side to set it down, "Damn, this is heavy."

Brittany couldn't lift the bottom box that had the books so she squeezed in behind it to lean over toward the back row of boxes.

"I don't think it's down here, Britt," Santana stated, "Why would your grandmother have kitchen pans boxed up?"

Brittany was now wondering the same thing, her voice echoing as she was bent over, "I don't know…she hasn't done much cooking the last few years."

She tried to remember the last time their family gathered over at her grandparents for a large meal, suddenly missing those special times they used to share, explaining her reasoning to Santana, "I thought maybe she put some of the larger pans down here. She only ever cooks for herself these days."

"Well, I don't see any kitchen boxes, do you?" Santana sat down on the corner of a cardboard box, pulling out her cell phone to check her email, hoping to hear about any potential weekend parties from her on again, off again boyfriend, Noah Puckerman. "Great…no service down here," she announced, now officially bored with this task, "Can we go now?"

"Hold on, let me check one more place," Brittany slid out from between the boxes and walked over to the far side near the washer and dryer where there was a floor to ceiling, wooden shelving unit fastened to the wall.

"Fine," the Latina huffed, crossing her legs and putting her cell phone back in the pocket of her red track pants, thinking she was glad she took a moment to pull them on under her cheerleading skirt.

Brittany looked up to the top of the shelf and was pleased to see several metal pans, exclaiming triumphantly, "There it is!"

"Cool," Santana said unenthusiastically, "Get it and let's get out of this dungeon."

Brittany stood on her tiptoes and stretched her long arm as far as she could reach, trying to ease the large pan off the shelf. The roaster was just heavy enough that she couldn't budge it with her fingertips. Hoping to grab the handle that stuck out, the blonde stepped up on the next level of the unit, straining but finally clutching it.

"Got it," Brittany said as she tugged on it, trying her best to balance with her left arm while pulling back with her right. When she realized the bulk of the pan was causing her to become top heavy, she called to Santana, "A little help here please?"

The brunette stood up to assist, but just as she got to where Brittany was, the old wood of the shelf broke under the teen's weight, causing Brittany to fall straight down to the concrete floor.

Brittany cried out as her right ankle buckled upon impact, forcing her to fall back and land hard on her butt.

"Brittany!" Santana screamed as her best friend fell and dropped the large metal pan loudly at the Latina's feet.

"Owwww," the blonde instantly grasped her ankle.

Santana kneeled beside her, "Are you okay?"

The co-Cheerio had injured herself many times when landing jumps, so she knew right away that something was most certainly wrong. She tried twisting her foot, feeling a jolt of pain shoot all the way up her long leg. "I think I sprained it."

"I hope it's not broken," Santana worried, knowing how hard the fall appeared.

"I can move it, but it hurts bad," Brittany grimaced.

"Do you think you can stand?" the brunette asked sweetly, rubbing gently at Brittany's knee.

"Help me," she requested, putting her arm around Santana's shoulders and pushing herself up with her other foot.

Santana put her arm around her best friend's waist, trying to lift on the larger girl.

"Owww….no…stop," Brittany had very little strength in her left leg either, feeling pain in her tailbone from where she hit the concrete.

"Okay," Santana lowered her back to the ground, "Let me call your house. Your dad's going to have to carry you up the stairs."

"He won't be home yet," Brittany advised.

"Let's see what your mom says," the Latina pulled out her phone, not remembering it had no signal until she flipped it open, "Crap, it's dead. Check yours."

Brittany pulled her phone from the back pocket of the jeans she changed into after getting home from school. Her evening got even worse when she saw the crack that ran down the front of it, holding it up to Santana, "It's broken."

Santana let out a slow, aggravated breath, realizing she was going to have to make her way through Princess Penelope's lair to reach the kitchen phone, "Wait here then."

Brittany nodded, "Thanks."

"Don't thank me," the brunette warned over her shoulder, "Just pray I make it back alive."

Santana heard Brittany giggle behind her as she climbed up the aged stairs. When she reached the top landing, she was unexpectedly thrown off balance by something large and furry that ran quickly between the Latina's legs, meowing.

"Shit," she cursed in between a loud scream as the basement door slammed shut.

"What happened?" Brittany called up to Santana.

"That fucking cat attacked me again," the brunette paused a second to let her heart beat return to normal before she reached out to turn the knob of the door, but it was locked.

"What the hell?" Santana mumbled under her breath as she shook it and pushed hard on the heavy door.

Hearing the loud clanking of the door handle, Brittany asked to Santana, "What's the problem?"

"The door is stuck," she hollered back, pulling again on the old, black metal knob.

"How can it be stuck?" Brittany questioned, "I left it propped opened."

"I don't know, Britt. It won't open though."

"Wait, it closed all the way?" Brittany had a slight panic in her voice.

Santana shook her head and let out a slow breath, reminding herself to remain composed with Brittany. The fiery Latina was usually the first to lose her temper with her friends. She always had a snarky comment ready for Quinn Fabray, their Cheerio head captain, or Rachel Berry, the annoying diva who thought she ruled Glee Club. With Brittany though, the brunette's closest friend since grade school, Santana always found an extra measure of patience.

"Yes, Britt…when the damn cat ran out," Santana explained, "I turned the knob, but it's locked or something."

"Yeah, I told you it locks automatically from the outside," Brittany said with alarm, pulling herself over more toward the stairs to look up at the top landing, "That's why I told you to leave it open."

"You did?" Santana asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, the key's in the lock on the outer part."

Santana thought back, realizing she either did not hear Brittany's earlier warning or she was thinking of something else at that moment. She banged loudly on the door, kicking it for extra emphasis while yelling, "Help! Can anyone hear me?"

"Santana!" Brittany hollered.

"We're locked down here," the brunette screamed to anyone who might be listening.

"That's not funny, Santana," Brittany said, thinking she'd been victim to one of her best friend's many pranks, "Please just open the door."

"I'm not kidding, Britt…it's really locked."

"How are we going to get out of here?" Brittany had extreme concern in her voice, her ankle throbbing now.

Santana shrugged and blew out a deep breath as she stepped back down the stairs.

"Well, we need to figure something out," Brittany prompted.

"Hey, I'm not the idiot who set up the basement to lock from the outside," Santana grumbled.

Brittany's brow furrowed at the harshness in Santana's statement, "It's to protect the upstairs against break-ins."

"How is anyone going to break into the basement, Britt?" Santana surmised, "There's no door down here."

"There's a window," the blonde pointed out as though it was obvious.

Santana looked around at the fading sunlight coming in through the small rectangle of glass at the very top of the side wall. "The window, of course," she recognized their possibility of escape.

The brunette pushed hard on one of the heavier cardboard boxes, sliding it slowly under the window, then carried another one over and stacked it on top. She climbed up on top of the stack, feeling it bend slightly under her weight.

"Please be careful, San," Brittany warned, seeing the flimsy cardboard jiggle underneath her best friend, "All I need is for you to fall too."

"Chill out," Santana dismissed, reaching up to the hinge of the narrow window, pushing as hard as she could on the old, rusty locks. Finally giving up, she yelled out in frustration, "For Christ's sake!"

"What?" Brittany asked from her position on the floor.

Santana jumped down off of the boxes, "It's fucking nailed shut!"

Brittany leaned her head back and closed her blue eyes.

"Your grandparents must be the most paranoid people in Lima," Santana criticized.

"They're old," Brittany defended, amending her statement when she remembered her grandfather's passing, "Was old anyway."

Santana sighed and sat on the ground next to Brittany, "I'm sorry, Britt."

A silence fell over the friends as they looked around the basement then back at each other.

"What do we do now?" Brittany asked.

"Wait until your parents get worried enough to come looking for us, I guess."

The blonde frowned, rubbing at her ankle.

"How's your foot?" Santana moved a little closer, pulling Brittany's right leg into her lap and taking off her sneaker and sock.

"It really hurts," Brittany grimaced.

The Latina massaged it, feeling that it was swelling. "You should keep your shoe off," she suggested, putting Brittany's sock back on her foot and telling her, "Your feet are cold."

Brittany zipped up her thin, black hoodie and shivered, "It is really cold down here."

Santana set Brittany's leg gently back to the floor and took off her wool letter jacket, using it to cover her best friend, "Here, this will keep you warmer."

"Now you'll get cold," Brittany frowned.

Santana moved behind Brittany and pulled her back against her body, wrapping her arms around Brittany's chest and adjusting the coat over both their arms and upper torsos. "There," Santana said, kissing the blonde sweetly on top of her head, "Now we can keep each other warm."

Author's Note: Well…? Yes? No? Keep going or trash this attempt? I'm only doing this for you guys who want all Brittana, all the time. I even have them cuddling together. Do you want to see if they end up doing more than cuddling? LOL

Leave me a review and tell me what you think or want me to do.