Disclaimer: I do not own glee or its characters or stories. This is just for fun!
Authors note: This is just my take on the scene between Brittany and Santana in the Glease episode because I could not get it out of my head. Major spoilers for that episode. It might stay a one shot or expand a bit depending on interest. I am sorry for any errors as this was typed out on my phone .Please let me know what you all think and thanks for reading!
As you stare at yourself in the dressing room mirror, you can hear only the rhythmic pounding of your heart. It is steady and fast. You are not nervous to perform. No. Instead the tachy quality to your heartbeat is because your here in Lima and well Brittany is here in Lima too.
You'd be lying if you said she isn't all you have thought about since the last time you were in McKinley's hallowed halls. You feel a quick jump in your already rapid pulse as your body registers her proximity. You experience the sensations in three separate but simultaneous waves. The drop in your stomach at the meeting of blue and brown. The hot flush of heat trailing from your shoulder down your back matching the trail of her fingers across the fabric of your costume. And the tingle from your ear to your toes that shoots down your spine at her flirty words.
She makes a move to sit next to you and all thoughts of makeup are forgotten as your turn your body to face her. God she is beautiful. Even more than that she is brave. So fucking brave. She is not at all afraid to admit that she misses you.
Admittedly you say it back but the only reason you have enough courage to say it is because you know it's so glaringly obvious. In the way your eyes are so unabashed in their attempt to memorize everything about the very sight of her.
You can't help but notice the drop of her smile when you so adamantly claim that it's okay if she is dating someone else. You hurt her with those words and damn you always do that. Technically I guess it is true -I mean those were the terms of your breakup. But if you're being honest...
'' I'm glad that you're not though.''
Your honesty is worth the small smile that returns to her face. Some stagehand comes and reminds you, Ms. Lopez, that your curtain call is less than 1 minute away. You can't help the sinking in your chest at the thought of this interaction being down to its final sixty seconds. Hell sixty seconds is more than you have had for months though and you find that you are absolutely starved for every moment of her attention. You also notice the slight pull in your abdomen at the way she breathily repeats your surname. Suddenly flashes of skin, and bruising passion and whispered forevers race into your mind and you wonder if it always be like this with her. If you'll always feel this desperation. This low unsettlingly ache to be closer, nearer. To touch and to be touched.
However now she is talking about your impending performance. Or really she is talking about her feelings and gently, bluntly she is coaxing you into admitting yours. You can't help but think she may be a bit disappointed in you when all you can do is stare mutely into the mirror in response.
The low ''good luck'' that she couples with one last lingering touch only makes the sinking desperation in your chest all the more apparent. You know she doesn't just mean good luck with the performance. No she means good luck with life, good luck with fighting this, good luck on finding anyone or anything that makes you feel more than simply her hand upon your shoulder does. And as your singing the admittedly very sad song it is not lost on you that she is absolutely all you can think of. You can feel her eyes on you as she watches in the wings. Her gaze makes you feel a myriad of emotions: Sad, confused, lustful, lost, and found. Absolutely found.
Later while you're lying motionless staring at the cheap illuminated plastic stars on the celling of your childhood bedroom, the nights events play like a reel over and over again in your mind. You can't help but marvel at the fact that your nineteen year old self is so much like your fifteen your old self. Lying in bed tortured and tantalized by thoughts of Brittany S. Pierce. Brittany who knows you better than yourself, who never believed any facade you created, and who never gave a damn about any wall you built around your heart. She knows you, she gets you, and while she'll never push you too hard. She will always find you when you're lost.
So when your shaky fingers finally find the dexterity to press the green call button and place the phone up to your ear. It's no surprise when she answers on the second ring with a breathy '' I was waiting for you to call''.