I blame this on Smooth Criminal. Listening to it on repeat is bad. Review are appreciated!


It's a little after 3 a.m. when somebody knocks on the door. At first, Brittany doesn't hear it because it's too soft, too unsure but then there's a second knock, a little louder this time, and she stirs and slowly wakes up. She thinks that if she hadn't fallen asleep on the couch, she wouldn't have heard the knocks. The lights in the living room are still on and the TV is on mute, she turns it off before she gets the door.

Brittany isn't surprised to find Santana standing on the other side of the door. She's the only person who would be knocking on her door at 3 a.m.

"Hey, Britt," she says, her voice breaking a little and a few tears escaping her dark eyes. "Can I come in?"

The blonde doesn't answer, she just moves aside and closes the door quietly after Santana. The Latina hovers in the middle of the hall, her arms wrapped around her small frame, looking helpless.

"Annie, what's happened to you?" Brittany finally asks her once she sees the fresh bruise covering her pretty face.

"Don't. Please, don't call me that, Britt," she wipes a tear threatening to escape from the corner of her eye. "You know he calls me that," Santana's voice is so small that Brittany isn't sure if the Latina really said it or it was a figment of her imagination. She nods eventually, and takes Santana's hand, leading her slowly towards the bathroom. She turns on the light and Santana sits on the edge of the cold bath tub. The blonde can't help but recall some memories including the both of them and this particular bath tub, bottles of wine and warm spring nights. She smiles, but then she looks at Santana and remembers that there's nothing to smile about right this moment.

She kneels down between Santana's open legs and starts gently cleaning her face, careful not to hurt her.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" she asks after some time and Santana shrugs. Brittany isn't sure whether is means I don't know or I don't want to tell you because I'm ashamed so she gently peels her black jacket and then her white top. She's greeted by different bruises – some are new, some are healing. Santana puts her hands on her chest self-consciously, trying to hide her imperfections and fears.

"I never got why you let him do that you," Brittany whispers, while running her pale hands over the Latina's stomach and her chest, letting them rest on her shoulders. "You deserve so much better, Santana."

She shakes under Brittany's hands, trying so hard not to burst out into tears. They're just quietly streaming down her face. She nods because yes, she knows she doesn't deserve to get beaten up and then go back to the same man. But she doesn't have a choice. She's wrong. She's not supposed to be happy. He helps her remember that with every hit he lands on her body.

"You should stay here tonight and tomorrow we'll figure something out, okay?" Brittany says and slowly closes the gap between their faces, touching their foreheads together. Santana can't help but wish she would close the gap between their lips, kiss Brittany like she once did, but it was such a long time ago. They were different people back then. They were just kids, they thought their love would be enough. And then the talks and the looks behind their backs became too much to handle. The slushies and the bullying were too much. Quitting Glee club made her situation a little better, but it ruined her.

Luckily, Brittany stops her little trip down memory lane, when she closes the gap between their lips. The kiss is salty and wet because of Santana's tears but it's everything that's good in the world, she knows that it's so wrong but in her heart it feels right. When they part, Santana doesn't open her eyes; instead she pretends for a second that this was her life, that she had Brittany, that she had never let her go. She sees them so clearly, in her head, entangled together on the sofa, watching some film on the TV in their underwear or making pancakes on a Sunday morning, kissing lazily next to the fridge and completely forgetting about their breakfast and leaving the pancakes to burn. She wants that so bad.

Then Brittany takes her hand in hers and leads her to her dark bedroom, the bed is unmade and cold but when they climb under the covers and wrap their limbs around each other, it gets warm. It feels like home in Brittany's arms, Santana decides.

"He came home drunk, you know," she whispers and Brittany's breath hitches. "He hit me because his dinner was cold. Then he couldn't find beer in the fridge. It was right there. Just before his eyes but he didn't see it and when I told him…he got so angry," Britt was holding her so tight that it hurt her a little but Santana didn't care. "He slapped me so hard and then took me by the hair and pushed me on the floor and kicked me. I have no idea how I managed to escape, I swear. I thought that was it. I thought I would never see you again. I thought I would never get to tell you that I love you again." Santana was clutching at Brittany's side, weeping and all the blonde could do was whisper soothing words in her ear, rocking her gently and kissing every inch of her face she could find.

"I'm here, San, and I love you. You're gonna be okay," she repeats over and over again until finally the girl in her arms calms down a bit.

"I can't go back again," she says, her voice shaking. "What if one day I wake up in a hospital or worse…what if one day I don't wake up, Britt?"

"Don't talk like that, Santana, just don't. It's not going to happen. You will stay here with me and I will take care of you, you hear me?" she kisses her hair, fingers tangling in her soft black locks. "I will never let anything bad happen to you, babe" Santana kisses, hesitating until Brittany answers her kiss. "I will make you breakfast tomorrow and we will watch crappy TV and then when it gets dark we will go to bed, how does this sound, hm?" she asks her after they part and even in the dark, Brittany can see the little smile tugging at the corners of Santana's lips.

"Sounds like a plan," she mumbles, positioning her face in the crook of Britt's neck, leaving a feathery kiss on the skin there. "Thank you for this, Britt. I didn't know where to go."

"You know I would do anything for you," she says and combs her fingers through the Latina's hair.

After a few minutes, she could hear Santana's even breathing and she realizes the girl's fast asleep.

xxx

When she wakes up the next morning, the bed is cold and Brittany quickly realizes she is on her own. She tries not to panic, because Santana might be taking a shower or making herself a cup of coffee. Brittany sits up, looking around and her eyes land on a small note laid on the other pillow.

I love you, but I can't. I will always be grateful for what you've done for me. – S

Brittany crushes the fragile piece of paper between her fingers just like Santana crushed her heart. She should've known better than to indulge in the fantasy of them having a relationship or being happy. She should've known that life isn't that simple.

She sighs while getting out of bed. Her legs feel like lead and on the way to the kitchen she finds one of Santana's earrings. She hadn't even noticed Santana was wearing earrings last night but one of them is mocking her from the carpet right this moment. Brittany picks it up and wonders if she'll ever see Santana again to give it back to her or if she'll get to keep it forever.