Pairing: Implied Brittana
Rating: R, but only for a little swearing
Spoilers: Through 3x07.
Summary: A Collection of fics and drabbles of different lengths that could have happened in I Kissed A Girl in lieu of the forced canonization of Finn
Ok, this isn't actually a collection. I'd like it to be b/c I have about 2 other ideas, but I figured that if i waited until I got around to those, I might never post anything. This first one is about Blaine reaching out to Santana at some point after the "Perfect" performance. I was torn as to whether or not to leave that part in since I don't know why he'd agree to it, so I hope that part works. I've also made an assumption that said performance occurred during the school day at some point.
( here goes nothing.... )
It's 2:37pm. School officially ended a few minutes ago and the hallways are crowded with students hustling and pushing to get their things and get out of there as quickly as possible. She's at her locker grabbing her chemistry book before heading to the football field for practice. It so loud today. Louder than usual. The ad hasn't run yet, but her paranoia is growing and she is already assuming they're all talking about her in some new way that isn't fawning admiration or abject fear.
She zips her backpack and is about to sling it over her shoulder when the bag is knocked from her hand as she is jostled by a group of 4 basketball players walking abreast.
"Hey watch it, you gorillas! This isn't the Planet of the Apes!" It almost feels good. At least it feels familiar. This is the persona she's been perfecting for years now. She's giving them her signature bitch glare, the one she practices in the mirror before school. Maybe one of them mumbles an apology... maybe he doesn't, its hard to say. She scowls at them as they walk away and reaches to grab her bag from the floor when she hears her name.
"Santana! Santana, hey!" It's kind of a surprise because there are only two people who'd dare yell her name down the hallway. It is definitely not her voice and she's the only one she ever wants to hear yelling her name down the hallway. It's not Coach Sylvester either, even though the voice is deeper. Coach never bothers with actual first names.
No, when she finally sees the body the voice belongs to, its Blaine fighting his way through the phalanx of hoopsters. He catches her eye and damn, now she can't pretend to have not seen him.
"Hey, Santana! Wait up!" She quirks an eyebrow and crosses her arms defensively, because seriously what the fuck else does he need to say to her today. He finally succeeds in navigating the crowds and is standing before her. She glances around looking for Blaine's conjoined twin, but since she doesn't see him she presumes he was trampled. No it's just Blaine, looking so damned earnest that its appalling. If he breaks into song in the hallway she will hit him, suspensions and Sectionals be damned.
There is a moment of silence where he thinks she might say something, like "Hi" or maybe just "what do you want?", but when nothing is forthcoming he gamely presses on.
"Hey, I just wanted you to know that I'm really sorry about earlier. It wasn't the right time or place, but Finn had already... and... we couldn't... uh anyway, we hoped it would at least take a little of the edge off if we sang something fun. I mean..." He's struggling with this part because he hadn't agreed with the lesson when Finn had pitched it to them 5 minutes before practice. He'd capitulated in the end, but told Finn to keep the rhetoric down. That it was too much, too soon, but Finn had shot him down like always. He wishes he had pushed more.
"Whatevs," she cuts him off. "Coach makes us run 10 laps for every minute we're late so I have to jet. You finished?" It's a dismissal, but he either ignores it or thinks it is an actual question.
"Almost. I just wanted to give you two things before you left today." She narrows her eyes in suspicion. She doesn't want anything from him and definitely can't deal with any more pity. She doesn't want her feelings on fucking display anymore. She just wants things to go back to how they were.
In his left hand he holds out a balled up bit of black fabric.
"Take it." So she does. The ball begins to unravel a bit as she takes it.
He cuts her off, "Its my bow tie." Her head tilts to the side in her best "bitch, please" look.
"You said it provoked you," he supplies to answer the question that he knows was coming next. He's smiling because he obviously finds himself very clever, but then his face goes more serious as he holds up a scrap of paper in his other hand. "And this is the other thing I wanted you to have." She takes it and finds a phone number scrawled on it in marker. She's glaring at him again. She can't help it really. It's automatic. "Don't throw it out..." he sputters as she moves to crumple it in her fist. "Look, I can't imagine what it's like to.... to, to deal with things before you're ready. To not have a choice. It's not fair and it must suck."
She scoffs a little. "Yeah, it sucks."
"I just want you to have my number in case you ever.... want to talk.... " She's kind of rolling of her eyes and he knows it sounds cliché. "Just keep it okay? You never have to use it, but if you ever want to, the first coffee is on me. And no bow ties, I promise." He smiles again and moves to leave, having said what he needed and not wanting to overstep any more than he already had.
"Blaine...." He turns back as she trails off. It is hard for her to say, the word sort of catches in her throat, but she manages to force it out anyway. "Thanks."
"Anytime, Santana. I mean that." And she thinks maybe he really does.