My Soldier (Brittana fan fiction)* Discontinued*

16

I seriously can't stop smiling. My pop has already questioned me about it twice but I just dismiss him. I don't know it just feels like I'm reconnecting with Santana in a good way, it's made me realise how much I've actually missed her. Even though I tell myself day after day that I don't, I do. The whole thing at the park was kind of an eye opener, in a good way. That was probably the first time I've heard Santana laugh since I've been back, a genuine laugh. You know what, it makes me feel good that I was the one to cause it. I always could make her laugh, whenever she was down or pissed off I would flash a funny face, do some silly dance or just cuddle her and it would sort her right out. I have this feeling like Puck doesn't do any of that, the only time I've seen them together is when they're at his shitty bar. Like shouldn't you spend most of your time with your girlfriend? Or boyfriend in Santana's case? I still can't believe that she said she doesn't love him. I did have my suspicions I mean, how could anybody love that piece of shit?

Walking downstairs, I yawn and chuckle when I see Charlie sprawled out in her doggy bed in the living room. That walk really tired her out, or she might have a bad stomach from the ice cream she ate. God that ice cream, although I thought it looked better in Santana's lap. Well that was inappropriate. I walk into the kitchen to see my pop cooking and humming to some… my god she bangs by Ricky martin. I groan quietly but amused at the scene of my pop moving his hips as he flips some peppers and what not in a frying pan.

She bangs, she bangs

Oh baby when she moves, she moves

I can't help but burst out laughing when my pop tries to moonwalk but fails miserably. He stops what he's doing and looks at me, a large smile appearing on his face and his eyebrows raise.

"What? I'm getting my groove on" he jokingly purrs and puts the frying pan on the hob and looks at me as he

"God no, pop, stop it's painful" I playfully grimace and pop laughs out, his strong laughing booming throughout the kitchen. He raises one eyebrow at me and puts his hands on his hips.

"Think you can do better?" he playfully challenges and I raise an eyebrow at him, of course I fucking can. I was in like glee for 2 years where I danced and sung like every day. My pop seems to understand because he scoffs at me and flicks his imaginary long hair, in a ratchet sort of way making me laugh. He is a goon sometimes, but he's my pa. I walk over to the fridge and scan it, looking for something to drink that isn't ketchup.

"I forgot you were in that club" Pop says whilst moving the peppers and onions about in the frying pan. I shrug even though he can't see me and grab the apple juice intent on pouring myself a glass.

"That was a long time ago" I drag out and take a mouthful of juice, then lower it and place it on the counter top.

"I bet you still have some moves" my pop hums and pops his hip to the side and I chuckle with an eye roll. I stopped dancing a long time ago, I don't do it no more. That went out the window when everything went downhill and I guess I never took it up again. My pop noticing the silence changes the subject as he starts to plate.

"Did you check your mail yet?" He asks and I frown, shit I forgot about that. Eh probably some bills which I am definitely not eager to open. I shake my head with a shrug and my pop raises an eyebrow at me.

"What?"

"Check your mail" he says shortly and I groan before I down the rest of my juice. I force a smile on my face and walk out of the kitchen to the door way where my pop has placed my mail on the side of this glass table next to a fake flower. He thinks it makes the house look decorative but it really just looks stupid. Picking up the mail, I flick through and see that two are addressed to me. Turning around so my back is against the table, I lean my ass it a little and look at the first one automatically knowing it's from the army. The red and blue striped border, the brownish colour of the envelope itself and the writing and stamps is a giveaway. Taking a deep breath I peer into the kitchen to see my pop dancing and I decide to take this upstairs. I haven't got a clue what this could be about, I know it's not from Joe. Slowly shutting my door, I don't take my eyes off the letter that could potentially change my life… again.