It's All Make Believe, Isn't it?
There are no coincidences.

Beth. 23. I heart Glee.

Warning: This blog is like Seaworld. Occasionally you will get drowned by a killer whale, the dolphins sometimes refuse to co-operate and the first three rows will get wet.

This means, I am guarded and private. I am also snarky and sarcastic. I also have a tendency to make inappropriately wanky comments. :)

Me/Heather's backside = OTP

eXTReMe Tracker

Marjorie prompted: Santana has a secret Tumblr. Brittany finds it. 

She knows it’s late, but she promised.

It’s just that her dance class ran over by a half an hour and then her teacher wanted to talk to her about her solo, then she wouldn’t let Brittany leave for ages trying to get her to say that she’ll think about helping out at dance camp this summer. She doesn’t realize how late is is until her mom drops her off at Santana’s. Dr Lopez is actually home and she turns to her mom to ask her if it’ll be okay if she sleeps over, but her mom’s already reaching into the back seat, ignoring her backpack and grabbing her duffle that Brittany didn’t even notice was there, rolling her eyes as she tells her to make sure she goes to school in the morning.

She peers in through the glass of the porch doors to see if there any lights on and is lucky enough to catch Mrs Lopez walking past with a fresh glass of wine. She taps on the glass to get her attention and she lets her in a few seconds later, lugging her duffle behind her. Mrs Lopez rolls her eyes, just like her mom had done, and nods upstairs.

Brittany tiptoes up the stairs and it’s for a good reason. She grins a little and finds herself blushing when she sees Santana laying on top of the covers, fast asleep. Her girlfriend is just ridiculously cute sometimes.

She closes the door quietly behind her and strips herself of her outer layers and shoes. She takes off one pair of her socks but keeps on the other because it’s freezing and Santana hates it when her feet are cold.

She watches Santana sleep as she undresses and takes in how her hair falls around her face, how her body curls up a little bit like Lord Tubbington when he takes a nap under the dining room table after eating scraps from dinner. Her hand is fisted under her chin and Brittany can’t wait to snuggle up with her, wish her goodnight and give her a kiss on the nose before falling asleep. She hates Thursdays. They’re her busiest day of the whole week and Santana’s only in two of her morning classes. She hates that but she totally loves that she stays over at Santana’s nearly every since Thursday they started dating. She likes that snuggling up and sleeping is sometimes the only way they spend time together. It totally makes whole days without Santana worth it.

She moves over to her side of the bed, smirking at the words as she thinks them, and starts internally debating the best way to get Santana under the covers without waking her. She starts piling Santana’s school work together and gathering it into her arms. She momentarily wonders if Santana actually finished whatever she was doing and grabs at her laptop as she tries to find the questions amongst the papers. Santana would be mad at herself if she didn’t finish her homework the night before. It’d mean she’d have to do it in homeroom the next morning and Santana prefers to write notes to her than do that. Brittany prefers it too.

She’s confused when she discovers that Santana’s homework is a worksheet. She looks at it, the ink smudged a little from where Santana’s left hand drags over it a little, and then looks up at the laptop. She must have had to look up the answers. Or she was cheating and asking Professor Wikipedia the answers. She does that a lot, actually. And then she ends up clicking through all the links until she probably knows more than she should. Brittany’s seen her do it a ton of times and usually she just looks at the pictures because Santana usually looks at the boring stuff. It’s kinda cute how much of a dork Santana really is.

She gets even more confused when she finds that the it’s algebra homework. She’s not sure that Wikipedia can give you the answers to quadratic equations.

That thought makes her curious. If there’s a website that can do that, she totally wants to know what it is. She could use that instead of having to copy off of Santana every week. She doesn’t realize that she shouldn’t be snooping until she finds that Santana hasn’t been looking at Wikipedia at all, but this website called Tumblr.

She scoffs at it because she’s totally not stupid and she knows that it’s missing an E. She used to be a tumbler when she was younger and she couldn’t decide between dance and acrobatics. She knows that E is missing.

She doesn’t understand why Santana’s reading about acrobatics though. She shakes her head and shifts back against the pillows. If there’s something interesting Santana’s found, Brittany should really know about it. She might not do tumbling anymore, but her little sister does and she likes to have things to talk about over Saturday morning breakfast. She really doesn’t know what to talk about since her sister started dating Wes Brody.

But this website with the missing E doesn’t seem to be really talking about anything at all. It’s just like… really pretty pictures of random places, of big cities and – Brittany scrolls down and gasps – girls with like… very little clothing on.

(Brittany won’t lie. It kinda makes her feel a little jealous that Santana’s been looking at pictures of half naked girls when she wasn’t there. It makes her feel like she’s being left out. That’s so something they should be doing together.)

She keeps looking and finds all these like… random pictures with words scrawled over them. The words sound like secrets and she feels bad for reading them. Some of them are really sad and she clicks through a few pages, finding pictures and videos and songs that she knows Santana likes until her eyes catch her own name.

She glances sideways at Santana before looking back at the screen to read it.

Waiting for my Britt Britt :)

Underneath it, there are tiny little words with weird little symbols next to them. It kinda looks like the crosshatch patterns Santana draws in the margins of her notebook during English class. Brittany leans forward and tries to read them.

#Britt Britt #i hate thursdays

Brittany smiles and clicks the words above it.

She rolls her eyes at Santana using “auntysnix” and waits for the page to load, her cheeks growing warmer by the second. She’s kind of nervous about what she’s going to find and even more nervous that Santana might wake up and find her snooping.

She’s glad when the page shows up but she’s kinda surprised when the color of it isn’t as dark as everything else Santana owns. It’s white and the words are black and the writing’s small. There’s a little section up the side saying “I’m Santana and this is my blog” and in smaller writing, just below it, the words “3 months <3” sit comfortable in Brittany’s favorite color pink.

Brittany shakes her head because Santana’s such a cute little dork. Her lips purse together as she tries no to smile but it’s hard not to. Santana’s always surprising her.

She reads through some of the posts until she realizes that she can click on the tiny #Britt Britt underneath. It brings up lots of words and she reads them all.

Britt Britt’s home! one of the posts says after a lot that just say that Santana’s going to see her. Spending seven whole days away from your super hot girlfriend should not be allowed.

Brittany gets kinda bored – well, no she doesn’t, but the more times she reads how awesome she is the harder it is not to wake Santana up – and decides to go through the words a different way. She finds the last page and and decides to work her way forward.

Her stomach kinda sinks when she sees the first post with her name attached to it.

I don’t know why I’m doing this. I think I just need someone to talk to and I don’t have anyone else. I can’t keep a journal. Anyone could find it and read it. I just need somewhere to write down what I’m feeling because I feel like my head’s gonna explode keeping it inside me.

I told my best friend I’m in love with her today. She turned me down and I don’t know what to do. I thought she’d be there if I took the leap like she wanted me to, except she chose her stupid cripple boyfriend.

I feel so stupid. I thought she wanted me to talk about my feelings because she wanted it to be better between us. Now it just feels worse.

The little words underneath beside the #Britt Britt are #feelings and #lonely. Brittany takes a deep breath and moves on a few more.

I can’t look at her. I don’t know how. Every time I do I just keep remembering that she wants him instead of me.

There’s a little thing below the words that says “5 notes” and Brittany clicks on it. There’s a couple of different people who “like” it and it makes Brittany mad, but then she sees that the three other people have replied to her, telling her everything will be okay and to stay strong.

A few posts after that, Brittany feels a swell of pride.

I think I’m gay.

A few more after that:

Yeah, I’m… I’m definitely a lesbian.

Brittany looks over at Santana and shakes her head. She just wants to curl up with her but keeps reading instead. She knows she’ll just lay there wondering if she doesn’t read what else Santana’s written.

That idiot boyfriend of hers treats her like she’s stupid. She’s not stupid, she’s really smart. I hate that people don’t take her seriously. If they listened to her they’d know that she’s the smartest person ever. I hate it when people look at her like she’s inept. Even our stupid teachers do it and she always proves them wrong.

She won them that damn academic decathlon trophy and they’re crazy if they don’t realize it.

Brittany smiles and just keeps reading.

We were supposed to do Lady Gaga in Glee club and say all the things we hated about ourselves but couldn’t change because we were born that way. She gave me a t-shirt with “LEBANESE” written on it instead of “lesbian” but I still couldn’t put it on. She made it sound so easy, but I don’t think she understands that it isn’t as easy as putting a shirt on. If I put that shirt on I’ll never be able to take it off again. I’m not ready for that yet.

Brittany’s head lowers, guilt flooding her still pink cheeks. She keeps reading.

I think she broke up with her boyfriend. He made her cry and I want to kill him but I’d rather hug her instead. I hate it when she looks sad. I sang “Songbird” by Fleetwood Mac to her and she said she wanted to ask me to prom but I chickened out. I’m not ready for that but I don’t know how to tell her I can’t. I hate disappointing her.

I told some kid at school that my stupid beard was my soulmate right in front of her. She looked so sad. Why couldn’t I just tell her that she’s my soulmate? She’s the only person I’ve ever really wanted. Things don’t feel right without her.

I just wish I could be braver.

Brittany presses a hand to her chest and takes a deep breath. She doesn’t want to cry but she feels like she might have to. She just… she didn’t know. She didn’t know that. She wishes Santana had told her.

For a second, she thinks she should stop reading these words because this is obviously where Santana keeps all her secrets. Except she can’t stop. These are all the things she’s wanted to know for so long. She guiltily looks at Santana but doesn’t stop reading.

I should have just… danced with her.

Brittany’s shakes her head and feels a little mad. Why couldn’t she just tell her all this stuff? There was no way she could have known. If Santana had told her she wouldn’t have to snoop.

Had to go to a funeral today. I don’t want to die alone, but sometimes I think I’m going to. Sometimes I feel like I’m never going to be brave enough to just… tell the truth.

Brittany’s really glad that there’s a lot of those note things underneath that one telling her she’s being silly. She’s glad someone did what she would have done.

Sorry I haven’t posted for a couple of days. We went to New York for a Glee club competition and lost because of our stupid team captains making out on stage. I could have murdered them. Britt had to drag me out of the hotel room; she was the only one who could calm me down.

She dragged me to the little room where people get the ice and kissed me for the first time since forever. It felt like everything bad fell away.

Brittany smirks at that one. She looks at Santana’s arm wrapped around her chest and decides that pulling it away from her body to hold her hand would definitely wake her up. Instead, she just keeps reading.

Anything’s possible…

…what do you think that means?

Brittany rolls her eyes and snorts. She reads a few boring posts about all the stuff they did during the first couple of weeks of summer but then smiles when she gets to the good stuff.

She asked me to go to the movies. What does that mean? Do friends ask each other to the movies? I’m freaking out.

Brittany has to muffle her laughs into her palm at the “Calm down, Santana” warnings and the “Yes, friends do do that” messages and shakes her head. They only get worse over the next few posts.

How about dinner? Is dinner a date? What should I wear? Oh my god. What if it’s a date and I don’t show up thinking it is? What if it isn’t a date and I try and pay and she gets offended? oh my god. I’m gonna mess this up. I can already tell.

I should just cancel. Yeah. I should just cancel.

Should I cancel?

Brittany’s really glad that all these people told her to calm down again. She’s pretty sure they ended up making out in the backseat of Santana’s car and Santana’s voice was all breathless and deep when she told her she loved her. Brittany likes that. She’s pretty sure that night was the night she promised herself that she’d do anything to get Santana to say she loves her like that all the time.

The posts kinda taper off after that. Brittany knows why. They practically spent every waking moment with each other after that. Almost every night they had sleepovers where they would make out for hours. They always alternated houses but Brittany really liked how Santana would always have snacks in her house for them ready. She thought it was cute how Santana always pretended like she hadn’t brought them specially for when she came by.

She also thought it was really cute how Santana insisted on wearing sweatpants to bed every night, even though they haven’t done that since they were fifteen and they realized that, even when they’re not trying to, they’re like two sticks rubbing together. It might have been silly but Brittany liked how Santana thought she was being considerate by doing it.

The most substantial post of the summer is on July 5th. Brittany bites her lip remembering.

Definitely not just friends, I think :)

Pretty sure I just had the best night of my life.

Santana’s coy responses to questions asked after that night aren’t really coy at all when she’s tagging them with her Brittany’s name. She shakes her head and finds herself appreciative of this little community Santana’s found for herself. They’re not mean like everyone else. They don’t get grossed out or ask awkward questions. It’s like they actually want to know how Santana feels. Brittany thinks that people should do that more because Santana gets sad too.

But these people don’t make fun of Santana for being gay and they listen to her. They listen to her a lot. They listen to her bitch about when she’s been wronged, and tell her when she’s got right to be mad, and they listen to her post adorable stuff that sounds like it fell off the adorable tree and hit every branch on the way down.

Is it weird that I like just… watching her? She’s so beautiful. You’d understand if you saw her. She’s like… the prettiest, most gorgeous, beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. It’s really hard not to look at her when she walks in the room. It’s like torture to lay next to her and not stare. Seriously. Sleep is overrated.

Brittany blushes and wonders if Santana knows the feeling’s mutual. She wonders if Santana’s figured out that that’s why she always wakes up first.

I wonder if we’re dating, Santana ponders a few pages later. We go out to dinner all the time and she stays over a lot. I kiss her more than any person should kiss someone but, like, am I meant to ask her?

There’s a lot of people asking her questions after that, telling her to just ask, but Santana insists it isn’t the right time. She goes through posts of talking about West Side Story auditions, Student Council President elections and how hot Santana thinks she is before she gets to a post that catches her eye.

I’m going to do it. Tonight, I’m going to do it. I’m going to ask her if we’re dating. Wish me luck.

Brittany shakes her head and scrolls down a few inches to the next post. She expects excitement and like… capital letters and lots of exclamation marks. If it was her and she’d been waiting that long to find out something, she’d use a lot of exclamation marks and capital letters. But Santana doesn’t and somehow manages to show the same amount of excitement.

She’s my girlfriend.

Brittany nods at the words proudly and remembers Santana asking for confirmation that they were true while they were kissing in her car after they’d been to Breadstix. Her face had been so cute when Brittany had giggled at her and nodded that, yes, they were totally girlfriends now.

Brittany finds herself grinning at the messages of congratulations Santana got. She feels like she’s their friend too because Santana talks about her so much. She feels like they know her and she’s glad that they like her. These feel like Santana’s friends she needs to impress and she has. She blushes as Santana answers in smiley faces to everyone’s messages.

Trying not to wake her up gets harder and harder.

It gets even more harder and harder when the messages move smoothly from talks about the election and West Side Story and into talk about the Troubletones and how they’re better than the New Directions.

I hate him, one of the posts says. I know I’m a bitch but that was just harsh. It was like he was throwing my every fear back in my face. It stung because all those words were true but he didn’t need to make me aware of them. I know how scared I am. I know how much of a coward I am. But Brittany loves me back. I know she loves me back.

Brittany nods but a post later:

What if she doesn’t love me back?

She’s even more glad for the people who tell Santana she’s being silly. The only person in the wrong is Finn. Brittany agrees with them. She’s still mad at Finn for all that stuff, even if Santana’s forgiven him. Santana had been working so hard and he ruined it.

Her stomach drops when a page later, she reads:

Probably won’t be updating this blog anymore. Got outed by that stupid idiot I was telling you about. My parents are probably going to kick me out and if my Abuela takes me in she doesn’t have wi-fi.

Thanks for listening to all my crap. It meant a lot while it could.

Brittany shakes her head. Santana needs these people, she can’t just let them go. The post is at the bottom of the page and she has to click to the next page to see what follows it. She looks at the date. It’s a week or so later.

Sorry for going AWOL, y’all. My parents were awesome but my Abuela… well, she wasn’t exactly the coolest.

What’d I miss?

Brittany smiles in relief and scrolls some more. She jumps a little when the next thing she sees is a picture of herself and Santana. She remembers when it was taken: a couple of days after the commercial aired. It was their first sleepover under open-door policy. Santana had snapped it after texting Quinn that she was doing okay. Brittany remembers because she asked if Quinn was asking for photographic proof. Santana had said it was for her phone wallpaper but now she thinks Santana was lying because here’s the picture is on this blog thing.

I guess it’s cool to show you this now that everyone knows I’m gay. This is me. This is Britt. She’s the one who looks like an angel.

Brittany smiles and shakes her head. She lazily reads through all the rest of the posts. There’s not that many. They’re mostly just telling her friends about them dancing together at Sectionals and on the TV special. She makes fun of Mr Schue’s proposal to Ms Pillsbury and Brittany’s heart kinda jumps when Santana admits that any proposal that she made would “totally be at least a little bit personal.”

She stares at the screen for a moment, lip pulled between her teeth to hide away her smile. It’s kinda late but she doesn’t regret it. She just keeps looking over at Santana and shaking her head in disbelief of how cute she truly is.

She knows she shouldn’t but it’s really hard not to. She feels like she needs to say something but she can’t think of any other way.

It takes her a while but she finally finds the place where you put the words in and starts typing.

Hey, this isn’t Santana.

It’s Brittany, her girlfriend :)

Santana doesn’t know I’m doing this but I guess she will when she wakes up and comes back on here.

I just wanted to say thank you to you all for looking after her when I couldn’t. It means a lot.

I really love her :)

She can’t figure out how to put those little tag things on it but she posts it anyway. She stares at her words for a moment before slowly turning off the computer and then carries it over to Santana’s desk.

She climbs back onto the bed and leans over Santana, strokes her nose against her cheek and whispers her name to get her to wake up. Santana groans and untangles herself, stretching out just like Lord Tubbington does when he wants someone to stroke his belly.

“‘Time is it?” Santana asks groggily.

Brittany shakes her head. “Late. Bedtime. Come on; let’s get under the covers.”

Santana nods and sleepily lets Brittany pulls the covers from beneath her until they cover both of them. Brittany turns the light out and lays on her back, waits the mere seconds it takes for Santana to roll over and bury her face into her neck.

I love you,” she mumbles against Brittany’s skin.

Brittany giggles and butterflies dance in her stomach. She leans to press a kiss to Santana’s nose and giggles.

Yeah,” she says softly with more proof than she needs. “I know you do.”

//

It takes Santana a day or so to find the message, but when she does, she barges into Brittany’s room and coughs awkwardly, clutching her laptop against her chest.

Britt?” she says nervously.

Brittany glances at her before smirking slyly. “Yeah, baby?”

Santana clears her throat. “Did you…” she tries. “Did you, by any chance happen to look at –”

All those things you’ve been saying about me on that website with the missing e?” Santana narrows her eyes for a second but then she realizes that she’s got no chance of not being caught. Brittany smiles sweetly at her horror. “Yeah, I did.”

Oh.”

Brittany smiles and turns back to her algebra homework. Turns out, she was right. You can’t get Wikipedia to give you the answers to quadratic equations.

She doesn’t really do anything but Santana steps over her a second later. She drops into her lap sheepishly and wraps her arms around Brittany’s neck. She gives Brittany a look that Brittany knows means she’s got to explain herself. She keeps a straight face before she can’t hold it in anymore and she cracks up a little.

I’m sorry,” she shakes her head. “I couldn’t stop myself. You’re just so adorable.”

She kisses the apple of Santana’s cheek. It’s really warm, like she’s been sat in front of a fire for too long.

I’m mad at you.”

Brittany shakes her head and nuzzles into her, brings her closer. “No, you’re not.”

Santana looks at her for a moment and then slowly, her face crawls into that pretty smile that’s Brittany’s favorite.

No,” Santana says, leaning into kiss her. “I’m not. That post got me a thousand notes and fifty new followers.”

Brittany laughs and shakes her head as Santana kisses her. She doesn’t care.

So her girlfriend’s a dork.

What does it matter?

Brittany’s just glad that she’s finally happy.