"Do you need another pillow?" Santana Lopez asked, hovering close enough to the blonde that the other young woman could feel the warmth of her breath against her forehead, slightly stirring a strand of her hair. Santana's own hair was escaping from the messy ponytail she had haphazardly tossed it into, and deep worry lines furrowed her brow as she peered down at her girlfriend, biting her lower lip. "Are you sure you don't want to lay on your stomach, so there's less pressure to your side? Don't try to move on your own if you do, I'll help you."
"Santana," Brittany Pierce exhaled, giving her girlfriend a still patient, but rather wearied smile. This was day two of this sort of treatment from her girlfriend, and as endearing as it had been first, it was growing tiring after her continual insistence upon maintaining it. "Stop worrying, I'm fine. Really."
"You are not fine, we had to take you to the emergency room. Emergency room situations mean you are not fine," Santana contradicted, shaking her head vehemently as she fluffed a couch pillow, then set it very carefully against her girlfriend's side. "Do you need a blanket? Or are you hot? If you get too hot and you're sweating, that can't be good for it, the salt in sweat could irritate it, even give it an infection. But then if you're cold and you shiver, that could jar it and hurt you."
"Santana," Brittany tried again, but Santana carried on as though she hadn't said a word.
"Do you want something to eat or drink? I'll carry it to you. Or do you want the TV remote, or your laptop? No, not the laptop, that might be too heavy on your lap and hurt you. You don't need to use the bathroom, do you? Don't you dare even try to use the bathroom without telling me so I can come help you, you do NOT need to be on your feet alone!"
"Santana," Brittany said, more firmly this time, and she started to sit up, reaching out a hand to the other girl. With this small gesture, Santana gasped, almost shrieking in response to her as she hurried forward to grasp her by the shoulders and prevent her from moving any further, shaking her head so fast that her black hair further escaped her ponytail, whipping at the sides of her cheeks.
"Brittany, what are you doing, you're not supposed to be getting up like that! You know the doctor said you need total bed rest, you're going to make it worse!"
"Santana," Brittany repeated, but this time her voice was stern, and the hardened look to her blue eyes showed the other girl that she meant business. Only to Brittany would Santana have responded to this in the manner she did- to stop talking, hold still, and look down, waiting for her to continue speaking.
"Santana, I want you to stop right now, look me in the eye, and take three slow breaths," Brittany instructed her, her voice softer, but no less firm. She waited as the other girl obeyed, her face losing some of its tension just slightly, and nodded her approval when she had finished.
"Thank you. Now, I want you to sit down and take my hand."
After a slight hesitation, Santana again did as she had been instructed, and Brittany entwined her fingers with hers, squeezing gently. She was unsurprised when Santana squeezed back, seeming to take comfort from the touch, as she nearly always did when no other could give her peace of mind.
"First of all, Santana, the doctor said to rest my hip, not to put it on total bed rest," Brittany reminded her. "I can still move around and walk when I need to. I'm going to be okay. It was dislocated, not broken or shattered. It's like a Barbie head that got popped off and put back on, not like, one of those creepy possessed porcelain dolls that someone broke into a million pieces to keep it from possessing their soul."
"It was my fault," Santana mumbled, her eyes dropping again to their joined hands even as Brittany ran her thumb over the back of her hand, soothing with her touch. "I just had to try that stupid new move, and-"
"Stop," Brittany repeated, her voice quiet, but stern again, and she took hold of Santana's chin, lifting her face up. "Look at me, Santana." She waited until the other girl was doing as she asked, stroking her cheek tenderly with the hand that had previously been stroking the back of her hand.
"Honey," she said softly, using the endearment that came out only rarely, at times that she knew Santana needed gentle handling and love from her the most. "Honey, it was not your fault that I got hurt."
She watched as Santana took another slow breath, struggling to believe her words. Looking into the girl's dark, troubled gaze, seeing the way her eyes shimmered brightly with her efforts to contain tears, she remembered with a mixture of sadness and amusement how Santana had screamed, nearly hysterical with guilt and fear, when they had heard the loud pop of Brittany's hip socket on the living room couch. She remembered how Santana had flown for the door, not intending to dress herself from her unclad state or get Brittany dressed and in shoes either until Brittany reminded her that even in a possible emergency, once out in public, clothing was usually not considered optional like it was at home. She remembered how the smaller girl had struggled to carry Brittany and almost pulled her own back out with her efforts until Brittany forced her to put her down and simply support her injured side instead, and how Santana had sniffled and wrung her hands in the waiting room, to the point that Brittany had been more focused on hurting over Santana's hurt than hurting because of her hip.
Looking back at Santana now, she gently pried open one fist, stroking the indentations that the girl's longer fingernails had lift inside her palms before kissing them gently. Shaking her head, she gave a laugh, nudging her slightly with her elbow.
"Look at it this way, babe. We gave the people in the ER a much needed laugh, and over something totally awesome. Who has such awesome sex they pop a hip having an orgasm? Probably just us. Unless they're like, 105. Or else one of those bendy people in the circus."
Brittany wiggled her eyebrows, then the tip of her nose, knowing that Santana could never see her do that without having to laugh. As she had hoped, Santana's face relaxed with her snicker at this silly gesture, and she had to nod in agreement with her.
"Yeah, you're right. I'm pretty sure only us."
"That's right, us," Brittany grinned, giving her another poke before releasing her hand, holding out her arms to her instead. "Come here. And don't tell me you're going to squish me or hurt me, because that tiny little body of yours couldn't squish a ladybug. Literally, because I know you're scared of those things."
"Am not," Santana said half heartedly, although they both knew full well that the last time she had encountered one on the dashboard of her car, she had shrieked, swerved, and narrowly missed hitting a stop sign head on.
Letting Brittany guide her back against her, she settled her head against Brittany's chest, as the taller girl's arms circled around her. Brittany kissed the top of her head, smiling down at her as she spoke with affection in her tone.
"So, now you have to repeat after me. I, Santana Lopez."
When Santana huffed, rolling her eyes, Brittany poked her again, ordering, "Say it."
"I, Santana Lopez," Santana muttered, rolling her eyes again, but nevertheless obeying.
"Am totally and completely awesome and hot."
Santana repeated again, this time with some attitude, and Brittany smiled as she repeated her next ordered line.
"And so therefore, my girlfriend would gladly pop another hip just to get to cum that hard again."
"Britt," Santana pouted a little, looking up at her through her eyelashes, as Brittany nodded emphatically.
"Totes true. You blow my life away, Santana, so sometimes, random joints gotta give out a little too. Win a lot, lose a little. Besides, one time I saw that Lord Tubbington was using your dildo as a backscratcher and I still used it on you later without telling you. So we're even."
"Say WHAT?" Santana blurted, her eyebrows lifting to her hairline, but Brittany shrugged, unbothered by her tone.
"Sharing is caring. And what really matters to me, Santana, is how much I know you care. Everything else is just sort of things that happen. Some suck, some are awesome. But none of them are all that important in the end."
She kissed the top of Santana's head again, and as Santana snuggled back down against her chest, she did feel comforted about Brittany's hip. But that didn't mean she didn't have more than a few questions about the dildo- and exactly what else might have fit into Brittany's casual philosophy of sharing.
End