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Glee Fic: The Night Belongs to Lovers: 3/??
brittana
glittergron
Title: The Night Belongs To Lovers
Author: Me (glittergron)
Pairing: Santana/Brittany, Rachel/Quinn, Santana/Brittany/Rachel/Quinn, etc.
Rating: NC-17.
Summary: A lot can change in ten years, but some things always stay the same.
Spoilers: Up to 2x16, 'Original Song'.
Previous Chapter: two
A/N: I'm fascinated by what could happen to the Glee kids in the future, so this is me just playing with that idea. There's success, there's mistakes, there's unresolved conflicts. And a lot of repressed sexual urges. Enjoy.
A/N: This update sucks. But whatever, I'm freezing my ass off and my fingers feel numb and I have writer's block like a mother fucker.



Brittany links her fingers with Santana’s and pulls her away from the dance floor. Nothing else matters now. Santana would like to say they’re both older and wiser but really they’ve never grown past this point in their lives, where love is just something unspoken between them.

Santana’s palm feels warm in Brittany’s soft hand, anticipatory tingles shooting up her wrist. She lets herself get tugged along by the blonde without putting up a fight. She almost laughs, almost giggles. They’re back in high school, so why shouldn’t they act like it? Sneak kisses in the hallway when no one else is around, seclude themselves in janitor’s closets whenever the mood strikes.

There are two exits into the gym, one going outside into the parking lot and the other into the quiet school. There’s only a few people loitering by the doorway and in the corridor, but everything else is dark and untouched, hollowed out by a sad kind of loneliness only an empty school can harbour.

Santana wants to say something to Brittany, who seems determined to seek out somewhere ever more private. The Latina feels nerves roiling in her gut, and she knows it’s because she wants to fall into old habits again, play connect the dots with the birthmarks on Brittany’s toned stomach, but she isn’t sure what kind of can of worms that will open. Will she really be able to leave tomorrow? Will the two of them return to their lives without the other?

“Britt,” Santana finally says, “can we talk?”

Brittany stops and looks around, apparently happy with the empty hallway they’re in now. The blonde looks at Santana for a long moment, eyes bright and excited.

“Like we used to?” she asks, gently backing Santana up against a locker. The blonde’s lips are parted and ready for hungry, needy kisses. But Santana has to pause and make sense of the pounding in her head, the fierce want for the girl she’s missed.

“It’s been ten years, Britt,” Santana says weakly. Brittany just nods her head.

“You should’ve called,” Brittany tells her, and it doesn’t come out as a reprimand but it hits Santana’s ears exactly like one. She should’ve, and she feels bad that she ran so far away from the only person she’s ever loved, but she can’t rush blindly into this again only to back out later because she feels too much.

“I know,” Santana mumbles. Brittany smiles slightly, lips curving and Santana wants to bruise her mouth against the blonde’s, but she waits because there are unsaid words hanging between them.

“I finally worked out how to use Facebook,” Brittany says. “But I still don’t know how to send a friend request... I just want to keep in touch, Sanna.”

“So do I,” Santana says, her voice a little desperate because she can’t stop thinking about touching her. Stretching her arm out out, sliding a lock of Brittany’s hair behind her ear, running her fingertips down her slender neck. Taking hold of her like she dreamt about when memories were all she had in reach.

“It’s been so long,” Brittany says wistfully, a faraway look in her eyes all of a sudden. “What… what have you been doing?”

Missing you. “Working,” Santana says, her voice soft and quiet. They’re both so close to whispering; even though their conversation is tame they still can’t quite ignore how little distance there is between them. It’s no longer like wishing things had been different, the way they have been. It’s knowing they’re together and they have a chance, but which one is going to be brave enough?

“Same,” Brittany replies. “Did you know that a tour can go on for weeks?”

“A tour?” Santana repeats. She smiles.

“Yeah, I’m a back-up dancer. At first I thought touring would just be like one or two concerts, but it’s actually a lot more than that.” Brittany shrugs her slim shoulders. “San, someone said you’re a cop now.”

“Who?” Santana asks. She doesn’t admit it instantly, because there’s something strange in Brittany’s voice. A little sad, morose, maybe hoping for a different answer.

“Sarah,” Brittany answers, her eyes intent on Santana’s face. Sarah is maybe the only person from high school Santana has talked to since graduation, and that was simply due to an accidental run-in. Sarah was a sophomore on the Cheerios and was nice enough, a little boring. But a year earlier she’d been in New York on business and had bumped into Santana, who had just gotten off duty and was still in uniform.

“Oh…” Santana says, trailing off. She should’ve known word would reach Lima.

“Are you?” Brittany questions, biting a corner of her bottom lip momentarily.

“Yeah,” Santana finally says with a crooked smile. “I’m a homocide detective now.”

“Do you carry a gun?” Brittany demands. She sounds almost angry, but there’s an underlying excitement in her tone. Santana thinks she might understand Brittany’s feelings about her work; Santana used to get in fights when they were younger and there was nothing Brittany hated more than violence. Sometimes she’d go for days without talking to Santana afterwards, and every time the Latina would do anything to get her friend to forgive her.

Santana nods hesitantly, with this information in mind. “I have to,” she says, but it just sounds like a damn excuse. And a weak one. She could’ve done anything with her life, really. Gone to college, studied something boring, or maybe she could’ve gotten a desk job.

But she’s always had a self-destructive streak running through her. She sabotaged her relationship with Brittany by refusing to be what her friend needed, and now she’s alone and running into danger because it’s the only way she can feel the kind of passion and intensity that Brittany used to ignite in her.

The blonde gives a soft sigh and shakes her head, the smell of her hair and her skin making Santana feel light-headed. She swallows thickly and puts her hand on Brittany’s arm, running her fingertips down to clasp around her wrist.

“My partner’s always got my back though, B,” she says reassuringly. “And there’s no better feeling than making an arrest.” Except for loving you.

=#=


Quinn should be happy to be seeing old friends again, to be standing in the school where she spent her best – and most of her worst – days. But it’s not enough that she used to rule McKinley High. School is over and life has begun, and it’s been ten years and she still hasn’t figured anything out.

Ohio has been the one constant in her life, the thorn in her side. Some days she feels as though she could get used to it, but mostly it makes her wish she could be done with it. Stop feeling stuck in place with her feet rooted to the spot. If she just gets up and leaves one day, it won’t make a difference to anyone here.

Finn stays behind with her, but not many others do. And after trying for seven years to make a relationship with Finn work, one where they foresaw marriage and kids and growing old together… Quinn had finally realised it was never what she wanted.

So they break up, calling their transient state of being quits and deciding to build momentum to move in opposite directions. Finn goes back to school to study engineering, since he’d been working at his step-father’s auto-shop for so long that the workings of an engine make more sense to him than Quinn Fabray ever will.

Which leaves the blonde alone, to return to Lima, with no one left to talk to. Friends are a thing of the past, and maybe back then friends were just something she pretended to have. Santana and Brittany were always closer to each other and Quinn ruined every good moment she’d had with them in high school.

Noah moved away, Mercedes did too, and Kurt had taken off to New York the first opportunity he had. Blaine had followed shortly after, because they might’ve been the only two people who really had a shot. Quinn had probably known, even back then, that her and Finn were never meant to be.

So now she’s here at her high school reunion with no one to turn to, once more. It’s not an unfamiliar feeling for Quinn. Her parents sowed the seeds of abandonment in her junior year when her stomach was swelling with life and she was terrified beyond belief. Funnily enough the glee club were the only people who tried to look after her, so they’re who Quinn looks for the moment she enters the gymnasium.

Santana and Brittany seem lost in their own worlds, Artie is spotted here and there with a pretty redhead pushing his wheelchair, and everyone is older and more mature. They look good, and Quinn especially notices Rachel Berry.

The brunette has been the one regret Quinn’s held onto. Not treating her better, letting petty rivalries overcome what Quinn really felt. She once asked her what she was so scared of, and there were so many answers to that question that Quinn hadn’t known which ones to blurt out first.

But the only one that mattered was the truth, the one she never let slip. I’m scared of you.

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