Happy (Brittana) Holidays Everybody!! It was in the infinite wisdom of some of the best that our fandom has to offer that an event was organized. Those all over the fandom posted stories and made art, and just rocked socks, so I thought I’d consolidate what I found around the fandom to make it a little easier for people to find it. If you’re like me, you’re going to need a few days just to get over all the feels, and get into some really good fics, so feel free to bookmark and come back later.
**cries forever**
Our Dreams Have Magic Because We’ll Always Stay In Love This Way by @leigh-kelly I mean, just, you know, buckle yourself in for this one.
In All Our Hours Always by @themostrandomfandom
God, we lucked out getting these amazingly talented folks in our fandom, huh?
Candlelit by @orangeyouglad8 What happens when you cross the fandom streams. #love
Totally Still Married by @novaforever A cartoon by our resident artistic fangirl.
Sheriff Pierce and the Doctor’s Daughter by @brittanalegend Old West meets ladies loving ladies, and I’m in.
Santana is NE af by @jennamacaroni Basically just Brittana being adorable all over the place.
Mounds of Infinity by zeisspot I thought I was over having Brittanaversary feels. #sowrong
FemCon @proudlyunicorn In which Brittana go nuts for representation!
You Wear White (and I’ll Wear Out the Words “I Love You”) by @ohhheyitsnic and @leigh-kelly More stuff in the Farm!verse because of course there needs to be
Paper and Diamonds by @lingeringlilies I am so jealous of them I don’t even know what to do with myself.
Fake Engaged AU by @leigh-kelly Who, I must say, was on FIRE today!
Bein’ Green by @gleedcanon Everybody is coming out of retirement today, and I LOVE it!
You’ve Already Won Me Over (In Spite of Me) by @ohhheyitsnic It’s the day after their anniversary and Santana has a surprise for Britt...
Brittana Wedding Day Fluff by @proudlyunicorn All those little moments that made our very best day!
Children’s Day by @me I wrote a thing, and you can read it here!
I tried to make note of all the fics that I saw on Tumblr that were released yesterday, but if I missed anything let me know. I’d love to update this post with ALL the amazing stories written by the Brittana fandom for our ladies anniversary.
Brittana Is Real, Brittana Will Always Be Real. Thank you.
I just wanted to take a moment to thank everyone who participate in the Brittana's 1st Year project, and the celebration of Brittany and Santana's anniversary yesterday. Whether you wrote fic, created art, reblogged, tweeted, participated in the rewatch, or just silently celebrated your feels, you made for an awesome day! It was so amazing to see that the excitement and feels haven't waned, and it is greatly, greatly appreciated how much it felt so much like the heydays of our fandom! (Including my having to wake up way too early after drinking too much and crying over Glee—eek, I'm definitely hurting right now, someone pass the mimosas!) I'm infinitely grateful that the Brittana fandom is family, and getting together in this way is like coming home, and I hope everyone is down for making this an annual celebration!
In the words of Heather Hogan, (in her recap of 4.22: Brittana Is Real) "Fandom conceived Brittana. Fandom nurtured Brittana. Fandom advocated for Brittana, and demanded for Brittana, and understood Brittana. In a lot of ways, Santana’s relationship with Brittany is an accidental allegory for fandom’s relationship with this couple. When the rest of the world wrote off Brittany as a moron, Santana looked right into her eyes and called her a genius. When the rest of the world scoffed at Brittany’s naivete, Santana explained that she was a unicorn. Santana saw in Brittany not the shell of an idea of the shadow of a person, but a woman who was intrinsically good and wholly beautiful and wonderfully complicated. She examined every one of Brittany’s layers lovingly, reverently. And the more she discovered, the deeper she loved."
I'm glad we're still here, I'm glad we'll ALWAYS be here. I love you all until infinity. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
I don’t need any more reminders that I’m older than dirt, thank you.
--Santana Lopez
Generally Santana isn’t much for television. Brittany is hooked on a kids show on public broadcasting, though, and the music is actually pretty good. It’s mostly alphabets or counting to ten, but every now and then they sneak in a piece with real lyrics. The giant yellow bird is, well, childlike, but Santana likes Kermit the frog, and that Susan chick knows what’s what.
It isn’t all that surprising then, when Brittany finds Santana singing ‘Bein’ Green’ at the piano. Santana would never admit to being able to play, but she’s actually quite good--as though she had been listening to the best piano player ever for years before she ever attempted to play herself.
“I like that one, too,” Brittany says gently.
“Yeah?”
“Not much experience being green myself, but I feel for the guy,” Brittany shrugs.
“It’s not about being green,” Santana says after a moment, “not really.”
“What’s it about, little mouse?” Santana takes another moment before answering.
“It’s about being you, whoever that is. You’ve never had a problem being you, though, have you?”
“I don’t know how to be anybody else,” Brittany answers, simple and honest.
“I’m glad; being someone else is exhausting.”
“I’m sorry you don’t always feel like you can be you… I really am.”
“I know you are, Sweets, and for the most part that’s all behind me. I’m too old to give a shit anymore,” Santana smirks.
“You’re not old.”
“I am. My joints sound like firecrackers when I get up in the morning,” Santana whines.
“You still tickle them ivories pretty good,” Brittany argues, sneaking up behind Santana.
“Compared to what?”
“I’m going to kiss you now.”
“Oh, you are, are you?”
“Yep. We have to celebrate,” Brittany insists before kissing Santana. “Here’s to forty-seven years of not actually being my wife.”
“You and your romantic soul…” Santana deadpans.
“Shh, I’m kissing you.”
“You are n--” and Brittany is kissing Santana but good.
“Now, about that celebrating…”
“I don’t want to go,” Santana repeats, again.
“Aww, come on, little mouse, it’ll be fun.”
“It will not.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Rachel Berry will be there.”
“Yeah, but so will Quinn, and Mercedes, and Sam, and--”
“A bunch of other people older than dirt,” Santana declares.
“Don’t be such a grump. It’s one night.”
“One night; our night. Why do we have to spend it with them? Haven’t we wasted enough time with those idiots?” Santana is whining again and she knows it.
“They’re not idiots, they’re our friends,” Brittany reminds her.
“People who opt out of leaving for America to join the French Resistance are idiots.”
“Fine. Quinn’s an idiot. As you’ve told her, many times. We’ll go, we’ll have a drink, we’ll tell them we’re going home to make mad, passionate love to each other. How many unofficial forty-seventh anniversaries do you think we’re going to have?”
“Hhmph. Fine. But I’m not going to be nice,” Santana grumbles.
“Why start now?” Brittany says with a happy grin.
“Promise we’ll leave early?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die.”
“You die on me and I’ll kill you, Sweets,” Santana threatens.
“Yes, little mouse. Go get gussied up.” Santana leaves the piano with a sigh, kissing Brittany’s cheek on her way past. “Nothing to complicated for my arthritic hands, OK?” Brittany calls after her, and Santana chuckles all the way to their bedroom.
***
“You want to stop smirking at me?” Santana grouses.
“No, I don’t,” Kurt tells Santana. “You have an Album coming out in the Spring.” Everyone at the table cheers, to Santana’s annoyance.
“Finally, she’ll be all to keep Brittany in the manner she deserves to become accustomed,” Rachel jokes.
“I didn’t come here to be insulted. And you’ve been spending too much time with Fabray again,” Santana complains.
“You keep me just fine, little mouse.”
“You could keep her even better down South, you know,” Sam chimes in, not for the first time.
“We prefer visiting you when the weather is lousy, eating all your food and leaving again,” Santana smiles.
“Don’t I know it. I already got sons to eat me out of house and home; don’t go inviting these two bottomless pits too,” Mercedes says.
“I can’t believe I got dressed up and came here for this,” Santana sighs.
“Yes, being celebrated with all your friends at the Rainbow Room is a fate worse than death. Shut up and drink, Santana,” Quinn orders.
“These drinks are weak.”
“They’re not, you’re just used to my heavy-handed hubby making the drinks,” Mercedes says.
“The amount of money I lost with you behind the bar,” Kurt teases.
“Hey, hey, hey, you hired me because I was pretty,” Sam quasi-defends himself.
“Touché,” Kurt allows.
“Santana’s always concerned people are trying to water down her drinks or whatever ‘cause she’s an old biddy. She has no idea how terrified of her everybody is,” Brittany laughs.
“Not you too,” Santana pouts. “I’ll go home without you--”
“You will not,” Brittany cuts her off.
“Will too.”
“Will not.”
“Will too.”
“Will n--”
“Children please, let’s enjoy the food at least, shall we?” Kurt pleads.
“I ordered the shrimp,” Brittany tells Santana solemnly.
“I suppose, since we are bottomless pits and all,” Santana relents.
***
“What are you humming?” Mercedes asks.
“‘Bein’ Green’,” Santana replies absently.
“Pardon?”
“It’s from that Sesame Street show Brittany watches,” Santana explains.
“You watch Sesame Street?” Mercedes asks, unable to hide her smile at Santana watching the same thing Mercedes watches with her grandchildren. By now the whole table is listening.
“Brittany watches Sesame Street. I sometimes happen to see it.”
“I’ll be damned,” Quinn says.
“Most likely,” Santana agrees.
“Still such a sweetheart, even after all these years,” Quinn coos.
“Quinn, are you hitting on my lady?” Brittany asks, pretending to be affronted.
“Not a chance in hell, Britt,” Quinn laughs.
“You better not be. I would hate for us to fall out after all this time,” Brittany smiles.
“I would never betray my driving instructor. You know that,” Quinn insists.
“Are you coming to Watkins Glen?” Santana asks, though not particularly interested.
“Absolutely,” Quinn affirms.
“Oh, Quinn, I wish you wouldn’t,” Rachel frets.
“Rachel, I have a helmet and racing belts and everything. It’s perfectly safe. It’s not like Formula One or something,” Quinn promises.
“And I’ll be there,” Brittany says. “Nothing will happen to your Quinn, Rachel.”
“Her Quinn? Her Quinn? She doesn’t own me, Brittany. Nobody owns me.”
“Just trying to make her feel included. Didn’t mean to suggest ownership,” Brittany apologizes.
“Else what did Quinn burn all those bras for?” Santana posits to the whole table.
“Too right,” Quinn toasts Santana. “You really should come, though, Rachel. Once you see what really goes on, you won’t worry about it.”
“I doubt that,” Rachel frowns.
“And she would have to leave Manhattan, which might kill her,” Kurt complains.
“Dear God, go visit Kurt out in California, Rachel, so we don’t have to hear about it any more,” Mercedes insists.
“Yeah, what the hell are you all doing in New York anyway?” Santana asks.
“We came for your anniversary, convent girl. Forty-seven years of sinning must be commemorated,” Mercedes answers.
“It’s not a sin,” Brittany frowns.
“We all know that. Til the rest of the world catches up, we’ll keep having obnoxious celebrations to annoy Santana,” Mercedes says sweetly while Santana scowls at her.
“Oh, OK then,” Brittany agrees.
“Brittany!” Santana says sharply.
“What? Is it time to go home and make mad, passionate love?” Santana’s eyes narrow, starring Brittany down for a moment.
“Yes. Yes, it is.” Santana stands and walks toward the exit without looking back.
“Come ‘round tomorrow if you like,” Brittany tells everyone as she stands. “Not too early. And don’t let Rachel go first; she always manages to see things she’d rather she didn’t. Goodnight!” Brittany calls taking off after Santana.
Rachel shudders.
“Don’t worry, Britt warned me this might happen and gave me some cash to cover dinner,” Quinn laughs, and orders another bottle of champagne.
Those tags on the fake engagement post. Rude. Very dude.
Rude, but also true.
It’s nine-thirty on a Sunday morning. Why Santana Lopez is awake, she has absolutely no idea. Mindlessly, she scrolls through her Facebook feed, stopping when she sees Brittany S. Pierce, absolute goddess from her chemistry class.
Did you know you get free cake samples if you pretend you want to buy a wedding cake? Um…sounds like a good way to spend a Sunday. Who wants to fake propose to me rn?
Should she do it? It’s probably just a joke, right? Maybe if she keeps it breezy, then Brittany won’t think she’s a total weirdo. Total, being the operative word. She feels kind of weird about it, but also, it’s an excuse to talk to her. An excuse to talk to the girl whom she fantasizes about probably way too much to be healthy. Okay, so maybe it’s creepy that she’s written their names together in the back of her chem book like, once or twice, but Brittany did send her the Facebook request anyway. Isn’t that why one becomes Facebook friends? To, like, interact and stuff? Three, two, one. Santana holds her breath, typing before she loses her nerve.
Who wouldn’t be down for free wedding cake? I’ll fake marry you, Brittany.
Groaning at the fact that she actually did it, Santana rolls away from her phone. It was a joke, it’s not like anything is going to come of it, obviously.
Or, obviously not. It takes about forty-five seconds before Santana feels her phone vibrate. She figures it’s her roommate, locked out again, like she is every Sunday, when she gets up for her voice lessons at an ungodly hour. But it’s not. She can’t believe her eyes. It’s Brittany, actually responding to her lame ass reply. It’s Brittany, asking if she’s serious, and if she is, can she meet her in front of Magnolia at 11:30? Apparently, Brittany already called and made an appointment. Apparently, they’re going to be fake engaged for the day. Santana’s totally not hyperventilating, not at all.
It takes Santana almost an hour to pick out something to wear. Then it takes her another twenty-minutes to dig through her jewelry box and find the tiny solitaire diamond of her grandmother’s that she used to play wedding with–they’re engaged, after all, she ought to have a ring. By the time she actually gets in the shower, she’s freaking out, and she’s pretty sure she might puke. Brittany is so hot, so confident, so…everything, and Santana is far from confident around women. But it’s too late now. She’s the one that started this, and if she doesn’t go, well, that’s definitely worse than going.
When Santana gets to the bakery on Bleecker Street, Brittany’s leaning against the building, hands in the pockets of her jeans. So maybe Santana is a little overdressed, fuck. Nervously, she wrings her hands, then tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, waving to Brittany.
“Hey, babe.” Brittany winks, making Santana’s heart thud hard in her chest.
“Hey, Britt.” Santana steps forward, and Brittany leans in, kissing just to the right of her mouth.
“Gotta make it look real.” She murmurs in her ear, and Santana can only nod. “Let’s go pick a wedding cake, future wifey.”
Santana has to keep swallowing hard as she sits down at a bistro table in the back of the bakery. Brittany is holding her hand on the table, and she keeps doing this thing where she strokes the inside of her wrist with with thumb. The red-headed woman across from them is saying something, but Santana has no idea what.
“We’ll order our own cake toppers, right, Santana?”
“Huh?” Santana shakes her head, snapping out of this daydream she’s in, where she’s actually marrying Brittany. “Oh, cake toppers, yeah. I was looking on Etsy last night.”
“I’m still in favor of two cats in veils.”
“Um…baby, I was hoping for something more traditional.”
“We’ll get back to you on that.” Brittany sucks her cheek, letting the baker know. “So, can we try a few flavors? We’re not sure what we wants.”
“Of course, of course.” Red nods. “They’ll bring out a tray for us in just a few minutes. But first, how many are you expecting?”
“Oh, no, we’re not pregnant…yet.” Brittany beams at Santana, who blushes from head to toe. “Maybe next year.”
“I meant at the wedding.”
“Like two hundred.” Santana finally answers a question. “I have a big family.”
“Okay, and–”
“Whoa, look at all that cake!” Brittany squeezes Santana’s hand in excitement when the tray is set down on the table. She doesn’t hesitate a moment in picking up a fork, and when Red gives her a strange look, she just smiles sweetly, and brings the fork to Santana’s lips. “Sorry, she really loves chocolate cake, and I really love seeing her happy.”
“You two are really cute.” She laughs a little. “And that’s a beautiful ring.”
“Only the best for my girl.” Brittany nudges Santana with her elbow, and Santana chokes on her cake. “Here, babe, you got a little frosting right here.”
It goes like that for an hour, Santana feeling her heart race, and barely speaking, while Brittany teases her, making Santana think that she might not have just a crush on her, but that she might actually be in love with her, especially when she wipes frosting from her upper lip. It feels so strangely easy, considering before today, they’ve only ever talked about chemical equations. Brittany is telling Red something about how they need to discuss the final cake arrangements with their moms, but that they definitely love the cake, and will give her a call.
“Oh my God, I’m so full.” Brittany pats her stomach, when they walk out. “I didn’t know they were going to give us whole pieces of everything.”
“I don’t think you had to eat all of it.” Santana laughs, her eyes crinkling with adoration for her fake fiancee.
“Um, it’s free cake. The rule is, you always eat it all.”
“Noted.”
“Hey. I had a lot of fun today, Santana.”
“Yeah, me too. This was a really good idea.”
“We should do it again.”
“Be fake fiancees for free cake?” Santana sucks in a breath, trying not to look too obvious with her excitement.
“I think I need…like, a two month break from cake. I mean, like, hang out, like maybe I can take you out to dinner?”
“Like a date?”
“You’re cute.” Brittany giggles. “Yeah, totally like a date.”
