A/N: This fic was inspired by a photo I saw on Tumblr (remove the spaces: htt p:/ . tumblr. com/ tumblr_lnpektL0iq1qc9lkyo1_500. png.) of Darren and Heather. This is the first time I've ever written Brittana, so be kind! x

Brittany didn't know too much about too many things, but she knew enough about a few things to know what a Disney prince looked like when she saw one.

"Are you a prince?"

Blaine smirked at Brittany through the mirror, pausing in the frustrating act of tying his bowtie long enough to shoot the tall blonde a warm smile. "No, Britt."

"Are you sure?" She cocked her head to the side and ran a hand absentmindedly over her pale gold dress, smoothing the silken creases and loving the cool sensation of the material.

Earlier that day, she and Blaine had gone shopping together for clothes to wear for their double date with their respective boyfriend and girlfriend, and Brittany was very pleased with what Blaine had picked out for her. "The gold brings out your hair colour," he'd said in the dress store, and Brittany had been worried for a moment that the dress wanted to steal away her hair before the dress store lady shushed her for fussing and whipped the dress over her head, zipping it up like it was a practised art and positioning Brittany in front of a mirror. A soft "oh" was all that escaped her before Brittany flung her arms around Blaine's shoulders and declared him the best non-boyfriend ever.

Now, they were both getting ready for real in Blaine's mother's dressing room, and she still loved the dress every bit as much.

Brushing back a stray lock of hair, Brittany surveyed Blaine from behind, watching him fumble with the black bowtie and standing dangerously close to the mirror. He'd opted for a classic tuxedo, complete with a pressed white shirt and suit jacket lined with sumptuous grey satin. Brittany still thought he'd look better in the bright orange suit with matching shoes that she'd chosen, but she hoped Kurt wouldn't mind.

Blaine gave a satisfied sigh, standing back to give himself a once over. He looked back at Brittany and outstretched a hand. "Want to see yourself one more time?"

Brittany beamed and nodded, walking as fast as she could in her four inch gold stilettos so that she was situated by Blaine's side, staring into the mirror.

"You look so short right now," she mused, standing sidelong and patting the intricate twisted bun at the back of her head. It was coming undone already.

Blaine laughed as he reached up to run a comb through his tightly gelled hair, a blush creeping into his cheeks. "I always look short next to you. I always look short next to everyone. There's a reason why all the guys at Dalton call me a hobbit, you know."

She blinked at Blaine, dumbfounded. "You have hairy feet?"

"What?" Blaine frowned, looking up at Brittany with questioning eyes. She simply patted his hair, sympathetic, until she suddenly pulled back her hand and stared at it like she'd dunked it in a vat of mud.

"I don't like your hair like that."

"Like what?"

"With all that stuff in it." Brittany reached for a half-empty tub of something marked L'Oreal on the table next to her and unscrewed the lid. She leaned down experimentally and gave it a strong sniff, blanching instantly.

"You mean my gel," Blaine mumbled, pulling the jar out of her limp hands and tossing it onto the bed behind him, feeling the pink blush in his cheeks turn a violent red.

"It smells like my cat that time he fell into my dad's manure pit."

"Oh." Blaine coughed, smoothed his shirt down, and stared at his feet, embarrassed. It was rare that he felt uncomfortable around Brittany- she was one of those people who you can't help but adore, all bright smiles and utterly earnest demeanor- but right now he'd have loved the Earth to swallow him up whole. Brittany's face was still contorted in a slight grimace when she placed two fingers beneath Blaine's jaw and angled his head up to meet her gaze, wide eyes sad and hopeful. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Britt."

"Santana says that you keep your hair like that because it's, like, a metaphor or something."

Blaine didn't know why, but his heart started beating really fast. "What do you-"

"She says that you're one of those guys who feels that he needs physical protection from the world because of something that happened a long time ago," Brittany reeled off, no doubt quoting her girlfriend word for word as she spoke with a stern yet emotionless expression, "So your hair is a metaphorical helmet because you don't want to get hurt again." She cocked her head once more and her features softened, laying her palm flat on Blaine's hot, pink cheek. Blaine's mouth was a small "o", eyes darting away from Brittany's and heart still thudding loudly in his chest, blood drumming at his temples.

Something about Brittany's- or rather, Santana's- words had rung so astoundingly true that Blaine was shocked he'd never sussed it out for himself. His hair was never something he'd thought too hard about. One day, he'd just decided that he liked gelling it down. That was it. He'd always kept his hair in free, natural, loose curls, but at some point he'd just... stopped. It had been so long that he'd honestly forgotten that last time he hadn't used hair gel as part of his daily routine.

"I never really thought about my hair like that, I guess," Blaine muttered, pulling his jacket over his hands absently and looking down. He wasn't used to being told how he felt, but he was even more unaccustomed to having a friend who would do so for his own good. Of course, he had Kurt, but Kurt was one of those people who wouldn't say anything for a long, long time, unless he felt the situation was dire. He was the only person Blaine had ever confided in fully, and it made his heart clench painfully to think about Kurt struggling with something as seemingly trivial as Blaine's day-to-day hairstyle.

"It's okay, Santana and Kurt talk about it a lot and they don't think you know why you do it either," Brittany said, as if reading Blaine's thoughts. She bit a perfectly made-up lip, the white of her teeth creating a stark contrast with the dusky pink lipstick, and she let a finger graze Blaine's stiff hairline. "Kurt was worried to tell you in case he was wrong. He really loves you, you know."

"I know he does. I love him too."

Brittany nodded. "Yeah, I know." She wiped away a single tear which Blaine hadn't realised was there. "You really do look like Prince Eric, though."

Blaine chuckled mutely, gently prying Brittany's hand from his face and giving it a squeeze.

She giggled and gave Blaine an air kiss, hovering over his cheekbone and smacking her lips. "That's how Santana told me to give lady kisses when I have make-up on," she grinned proudly.

"Santana sure knows a lot, huh?"

Brittany nodded vigorously. "She does. She's the smartest person I know. Sometimes I don't think she knows how smart she is because she doesn't want to believe it herself." Brittany smiled to herself, looking down bashfully. "She told me I'm smart, too."

"You are." Grinning, Blaine pulled Brittany into the mirror again so they could look at themselves properly. Brittany sighed, pleased, and leaned down to nuzzle Blaine's padded shoulder. She puffed away her carefully placed side-fringe, her eyes drifting shut before they snapped open again, a 50-megawatt smile breaking over Brittany's face as she stood up straight and grabbed Blaine's shoulders.

"Get a towel and some shampoo," she said excitedly, shoving Blaine gently as he wandered off with a bemused expression. "I have an idea!"

"Have you ever done this before?"

Brittany wrapped the towel securely around Blaine's shoulders, being sure to cover up his tux entirely before she shoved him down to his knees in front of the bathtub. "No," she said airily, standing up to grab the shower head, "But I've seen people doing this in the school bathrooms after they get slushied." She hesitated when she reached for the taps. "Usually after I slushied them. And I'm used to washing my cat's hair, too, so this will be easy."

Blaine decided he wouldn't trouble himself over Brittany comparing his hair to her cat's, and instead leaned his head over the bathtub. A spray of warm water hit his face, the loud sloshing sound making him jump slightly, and Blaine gripped the side of the tub even tighter.

"Britt, are you sure-"

"Blaine, please be quiet."

With that, she knelt down beside him and angled the stream of water at the nape of Blaine's neck, letting the warm water card through his hair, softening the gel. She massaged his scalp with the other hand, and Blaine's grip slackened. She was good at this.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" She murmured softly, working the gel out of a clump of curls, freeing them. A brief silence ensued, filled only by the sound of running water, and Blaine could hear the care in Brittany's voice when she said, "You don't have to if you don't want to. But I'm good at keeping secrets. Really good. I haven't even told my mom that Lord Tubbington's started smoking again, and you know how I feel about smokers."

Blaine laughed under the hot water, droplets forming a wall of sorts around his bowed head. Brittany was so easy to talk to. "It's alright. It happened a long time ago, and it doesn't really matter anymore."

"Oh." She rubbed the crown of Blaine's head and Blaine felt the familiar sting of shampoo bubbles sliding into his eye. He blinked them away furiously.

"Was it bullies?"

"Y-yeah, actually. How did you know?"

"Because I remember what happened to Kurt. And I remember how he said you'd had problems at your old school. Bullying makes people do things and they don't know that they're doing them." Brittany leaned up and turned the water off. "There!"

Blaine sat back on his heels and looked up at Brittany, biting his lip. "Have you ever been bullied, Brittany?"

"Oh yeah," she nodded solemnly, scuttling closer to remove the towel and rub Blaine's hair with it, "People used to call me dumb in grade school all the time because I couldn't spell or do math or tie my shoelaces like the other kids could. But I always knew they were wrong when they said it." She stopped drying Blaine's hair for a moment, meeting his eyes and offering a reassuring half-smile. "Bullies are always wrong."

Sniffing, Blaine nodded. He felt pathetic, kneeling on his mom's bathroom floor and letting a pretty blonde cheerleader wash his hair, but he couldn't bring himself to care too much.

Brittany giggled as she rubbed the last of the water off, and Blaine shook his head side to side, grinning up at her. She laughed, wrapping both arms around his shoulders and hugging him close.

"You look like a fluffy puppy," she said, petting Blaine's soft curls.

Blaine sat back and stuck his tongue out. "Woof." He clambered to his feet, dusting off his trouser legs. Humming, he proceeded to pull Brittany up, daintily twirling her before clasping both hands in his and backing towards the main room. "C'mon, mirror time!"

Santana clicked her tongue impatient, tracing over the patterns in the carved wood at the end of the banister. Kurt was leaning against a wall, adjusting his tie and belt every so often and glancing up at the stair landing anxiously. They were both practically radiating nerves as they awaiting the very late appearances of Blaine and Brittany, who'd been upstairs for at least half an hour too long. And Kurt was the one who tended to be a slow dresser.

Kurt slapped Santana's hands away from her glossy French braid, being sure not to hit so hard as to leave an ugly red mark on her arm. "Stop touching it. If you ruin that braid, I am not redoing it for you. Do you know how expensive that hair serum was?"

"Shut up, Hummel," Santana grumbled, crossing her slender arms over her chest. "It's my hair, and if I wanna touch it then I will." She bit her lip, glancing down at the sheer, flimsy folds of the vivid crimson gown they'd bought earlier that day. Kurt looked on with pride at the hand-selected garment- red truly was her colour. "Are you sure it's alright?" Santana blurted.

"Are you sure you want to ask that question to the guy who planned your entire outfit?" Kurt retorted snappily, raising his eyebrows. "Honestly, Santana, you look amazing. If I wasn't dating Blaine, I'd totally consider going straight for you."

Santana cracked a grin, slipping an arm around Kurt's waist and pecking the air next to his cheek. "Thank you, Kurt. Really. I know I've been a bitch to you before, but if it's any consolation, right now you're looking hot enough to burn a person's eyes out."

Kurt frowned. "Ouch. But thanks, I suppose." He hugged her tightly side-on. "I can't wait for this date. I've never doubled before. The other gay couple at Dalton were kind of introverts who glared whenever anyone else came near them."

Santana shrugged. "I've doubled before. In more ways than one."

Kurt simply retracted his arm quickly and narrowed his eyes. "I don't want to know, Santana."

She opened her mouth, no doubt to offer up a scathing remark, but the words died on her lips. At the top of the stairs, slowly descending, was an angel swathed in purest, delicate gold.

"Kurt," Santana breathed, and pointed behind him

Kurt spun around so quickly that he almost fell over. Arm in arm with a very tastefully dressed Brittany was his beautiful boyfriend, hair untamed, lustrous curls framing his face. His suit was perfectly cut to fit his figure, the bowtie neatly tied a breathtaking touch, and Kurt was mesmerised.

"Hey, Santana."

"Hello, Kurt."

Brittany and Blaine reached out to take their partners hands, eyes sparkling, and Kurt dipped his head to brush his lips across Blaine's knuckles. Willing away tears, Santana pulled Brittany closer for a short, sweet kiss, softly rubbing their noses together before pulling apart. Similarly, Blaine took both of Kurt's hands, caressing Kurt's soft skin, and kissed him deeply and lovingly.

Kurt peered up at Blaine's free curls and instantly felt the overwhelming urge to fist his hands in them. "I adore your hair. You shouldn't gel it more often."

Smirking, Blaine pressed his lips against Kurt's cheek in a loud peck. "I adore you."

"You look beautiful," Santana whispered, stroking the slight waves in Brittany's side-fringe

She took Santana's hand in her own and squeezed it firmly. "You look beautiful, too."

Blaine and Brittany grinned at each other, bumping shoulders momentarily. As Brittany watched Kurt loop his arm through Blaine's and set off towards the door, smiling shyly at each other, she felt this warm, satisfied feeling flood through her.

Brittany didn't know too much about too many things, but she knew enough about a few things to know love when she saw it. She knew that her cat still smoked. She knew where babies came from. She knew that secretly, Blaine was Prince Eric. She knew that bullies were bad. She knew that Blaine loved Kurt, and Kurt loved Blaine back, and looking into Santana's eyes right now, she knew that Santana loved her too. Most importantly, as they set off after Kurt and Blaine, Brittany knew that she loved her back.

And that's all the knowledge Brittany needed.