Disclaimer: This would totally be the main story line it if were mine, which its not.
Sorry for any grammatical errors, but I kind of like the way it turned out. Inspired mostly by Etta James' - At Last.
Pure pointless Brittana fluff to make up for the lack of it on yesterday's episode.
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"Coach is not gonna like that." She motioned to the swelling ankle. Santana grimaced and scowled but said nothing, taking the excuse to learn further into Brittany.
To anyone else, Santana would have appeared fine; they would not have noticed the flash of pain across Santana's face as she landed funny on her ankle after that last flip, nor would they have seen her put her weight more on her left leg to relieve the pain. But Brittany wasn't just anyone else.
...
She knew Santana sometimes better than she knew herself, and she saw all these things. She saw how Santana bit her lip to the point that it was almost bleeding - she made a note to kiss away the pain later - because to Santana, any sign of emotion was a sign of weakness.
Santana never gave any indication of discomfort or pain for the duration of practice and Brittany thought she was a real hero; the ankle was seriously torn. She saw how when they got home, Santana was grateful for the ice pack Brittany brought, even if she hadn't said as much. She saw how Santana allowed her to bandage the ankle and touch her bare legs, when no one ever touched Santana without explicit permission. She only snapped at her twice, but Brittany only smiled at her, cooing that everything was going to be better and Santana's barking became grumbles under her breath as Brittany kissed the corner of her mouth were it was seriously chewed.
Occasionally Santana would tilt her head up, silently asking for a kiss, and Brittany's heart would swell with love at this taciturn girl as she would melt into the kiss and Brittany would never understand how people could say Santana was a bitch, because she really was all sugar under the bad-ass exterior.
And even if other people were not smart enough to navigate around the prickly edges, Brittany knew how to work her way under her armor, and Santana had let her. So she found the small notes with scrawled handwriting in her binder and the random small gifts in her locker that somehow managed to find their way in, and Santana had even asked Brittany to the stupid prom in her own way, and Brittany had of course said yes.
So maybe Santana said, sex is not dating, but here they were sitting on Santana's couch at her house eating out the same pint of cookie dough ice cream with the same spoon watching ridiculously sappy chick flick movies and Santana had her head on Brittany's lap, her fingers playing with the Latina's thick hair.
Everything seemed so perfect in that moment, that even if Santana didn't want to ruin what it was they had with words, it certainly felt like dating and for the moment, that was enough.
...
And when that one-day in the future came where Santana leaned into Brittany, her hot breath tickling her ear, Brittany felt the world stop and her breath catch in her throat as the words left Santana's mouth, and it was just like all those stupid chick flick movies they had always laughed at, because really, life was never like that, but it was so sweet and unlike her that there were no words to be said, because they'd come as a pair together since they were six.
She gets one thought in however - at last - before she turned and gave Santana a kiss; a promise, and at first Santana stiffened, she'd never been good with PDA, but then she relaxed because of course Brittany didn't say no, and it doesn't even matter that there are knowing smirks all around because finally its official.