AN: My writers block is gone. I've been working on this for a while and finally finished it up today. A lot of S2 feelings.
It's raining.
The bedroom window is open. It's a comfort. Always has been, since Santana was a young girl. The sound of the rain is soothing as it beats against the side of the house. She can hear it clearly, like it's right on her face. It's why she keeps with the window open.
Thunder rattles the house and lightning flashes shortly after. She thinks that maybe she should be scared, but she isn't. She turns away from her desk where she's been trying to concentrate on homework. It hasn't helped, it hasn't distracted her from the way she feels. It just feels like her homework is mocking her. The math problems she has scribbled on her graphing paper are easily solved.
It feels like they're the only thing she can figure out anymore.
The distraction isn't enough now, though.
She sits and listens to the splatter of rain. She stands from the desk, pushing back her chair. It slides a bit too far and bumps her desk. The resounding clatter sounds loud, even with the rain.
The room is dark. Her parents are asleep across the hall, but the house feels empty. It feels like it's been hollowed out of everything that made it home.
That may be projecting, though.
She sighs and moves to her bed. She sits on the edge, facing the window and pulls her knees up to her chest. She wraps her arms around her legs. A flash of lightning lights up the room. The shadows cast by the light distort the room, make it feel like it isn't her own. It hasn't felt like her own for a while, though. The smell of Brittany has faded away, she hasn't been by in so long. Santana forgot what her room used to smell like.
Another crash of thunder. She exhales and blinks a few times.
She closes her eyes and wishes the rain away. The rain used to be soothing, but now it feels like it's beating against Santana and not the house. It's hitting her like bullets and is demanding, insistent that she come sit by the window and watch the rain fall. When did she become this person?
She's Santana fucking Lopez.
That excuse doesn't work anymore, though.
Santana knows she shed that skin. She's been turned inside out and scoured clean. She's been baptized in her revelation. Reborn through her feelings and acceptance of them. Even though they hurt more than anything has ever hurt before it feels freeing. Worse than that time she broke her arm in fifth grade. Worse than when her grandfather died.
She's a lesbian.
She's in love with Brittany.
Brittany chose Artie.
Her breathing breaks it's steady rhythm and shakes her throat. She hiccups, inhale awkwardly and rests her cheek on her knees. Her alarm clock says it's nearly midnight. She knows sleep isn't going to be easy to come by tonight.
Brittany chose Artie.
It still haunts her. It hangs over her every day, like a small little rain cloud. It's a reminder that the one person who understands her better than anyone else, who knows all of her dirty little secrets, who has seen her, all of her, doesn't love her back. Doesn't love her enough to choose her. The feelings are too big. They make her chest feel like it's swelling.
She chose a boy over her.
A boy.
It feels like it hurts so much worse because of that.
She wraps further into herself and sobs, shoulders shaking. It's too much.
Clunk.
She stops, as if she's been caught doing something she shouldn't be. The sound startles her and a panic seizes her chest.
Clunk.
She doesn't know what to do. She stays huddled on her bed, breathing loudly, afraid that the sound is someone creeping through her hallway.
Clunk.
She looks up and realizes the sound is coming form her window, not the dark hallway. She stands up and wipes her eyes on the back of her hands.
Clunk.
She watches through her window screen as a rock collides with the side of the house. She looks down. Her body goes quiet, almost numb. She can't feel the cool water on her face as it slips through the tiny grates in the window screen. She can't feel herself breathing or standing or anything.
Brittany is standing below her window, arm poised to throw another rock.
The rain makes the lines of Brittany a little blurry. Santana can tell she's wet, her jacket clinging to her body, her bangs plastered to her forehead. Her blue eyes are squinting to get a good look into the dark room.
"San." She sees her lips move, the rain makes it hard to hear. She thinks maybe she's making up the sound in her head, she's so used to hearing it. She wants to hear it so desperately.
Santana stays frozen as Brittany lowers her arm. She knows Brittany can see her, but she can't move. Her feet are planted firmly on her carpet. She watches, content to just stare at Brittany. It's been so long since she could just look at her without having to worry about anyone watching her.
"Coming down?" She hears Brittany's raised voice clearly.
She stands for a moment before nodding and moving to her door.
She doesn't understand why Brittany is here. It doesn't make any sense. Her feet are like lead on the steps. She wants Brittany so badly. She wants to run into the rain, wrap her arms around her and hold her. Feel her against her, just to know she's there. It's all she's ever wanted.
She opens her front door and steps onto the porch.
Brittany is standing in the yard. "You're soaked," she states.
Brittany shrugs a shoulder. "I'll be fine."
Santana looks down. She forgot to slip on shoes. Her body shivers at the realization. She can feel a mist form the rain coating her lightly.
"You weren't at school," Brittany says.
"Yeah, well," Santana says, looking at the road, past Brittany.
"I missed you," Brittany says quietly. She takes a step forward.
Santana's mouth goes dry and she tries to swallow. She clears her throat and shuffles her feet, looking at anywhere but Brittany. "Yeah, well," she repeats.
Santana can see Brittany look down in her peripherals. "Things are different."
Santana scoffs and hates herself for it. She's mad, though. She's mad and hurt and it isn't fair that the one person she wants to go to for comfort is the person causing her the most grief. "Yeah, Brittany, things are different." Her tone is harsh, she can't stop herself.
"I don't want us to stop being friends. You're my best friend, Santana." Brittany's voice is quiet. Santana can barely hear it over the sound of the rain.
"I can't be just your friend anymore," Santana says. The truth in her statement hurts. It burns her throat as she says the words. She hates herself, it sounds like an ultimatum. "I just can't."
"San." Santana finally looks at her. Brittany's lips are turned down into a small frown, her forehead crinkled, eyes wet. Santana can't tell if it's the rain. She hopes it's the rain. "We've been best friends for so long."
"You have no idea what I'm going through," Santana snaps at her. The frustration flares in her. "You have no right to make me feel guilty, you picked him. You picked him over me." Her voice falters and she inhales a breath, trying to steady herself. She looks away from Brittany and wipes at the corners of her eyes."After everything I said to you, you picked him."
"That's not fair, Santana," Brittany says. She takes another step up the stairs.
"Fair? What's not fair is you coming here and expecting everything to be fine between us," Santana says, trying to keep her voice from rising.
Brittany's face changes, hardens. The frown lines disappear, her forehead scrunches harder as her eyebrows push into angry angles above her eyes. "You think this is fair for me?"
Santana looks at her again, face contorted to keep her tears from falling. She isn't going to let Brittany see her cry again. "You've got Artie to go home to." She spits the words, she can't help it. His name tastes foul in her mouth.
"I wanted you, Santana," Brittany says, her voice strained. The rain beats harder onto the porch awning. Brittany wraps her arms around her chest and Santana can see her shivering. "I wanted to sing with you. I thought if I said something you would...get that I wanted you." She looks down and Santana's hard twists painfully in her chest when Brittany wipes at her cheeks. "You sang a song with Mercedes and I thought it was your way of telling me you were done or something." The end of her sentence crumbles as Brittany begins to openly cry.
"Britt," Santana says, taking a step forward.
"No, Santana. You never talked to me. You never let me in or anything. You never told me things that didn't involve Quinn or Cheerios or Puck or stupid things that didn't matter." She stops and takes a deep breath. "You were always so good to me that I thought..." She stops and Santana watches, paralyzed as Brittany shakes her head. "I was stupid, I guess or making it up in my head. But then you told me you loved me. After all this time, after all those times you pushed me away. You waited until I was with someone, was happy with someone to tell me you loved me." Brittany looks down and says nothing for a long time.
Santana can only stand and breath. It's everything she was afraid she'd never hear.
"It wasn't fair, Santana."
"But you picked him over me," Santana says. Brittany's confession sends guilt and shame coursing through her. Her legs ache with the need to move and alleviate the tension. She uncrosses her arms. "You picked him. Why would you pick him over me?"
"Because you hurt me so bad," she nearly yells.
They both quiet, realizing how loud they are becoming.
Santana's heart is racing. She can't have her parents waking up and hearing. She isn't ready for them to know. Brittany's confession breaks something inside of her. "I never wanted to hurt you," she says so quietly she knows her confession has disappeared into the rain.
"Me neither." The porch groans.
Santana looks up, Brittany has stepped the last few steps into the cover from the rain. "Brittany I never wanted to hurt you," Santana says again. Her voice shakes. She wants to cry, wants to apologize, wants to tell Brittany all of the things she should have been telling her for over a year now. "I'm sorry."
"I know," Brittany's voice sounds close to breaking. She wraps her arms around Santana. It's how they cope. Always touching, hugging, linking pinkies; finding anyway to connect and have comfort.
Brittany is cold and soaked with rain water. Santana feels the water seeping into her own clothing and she shivers. "Can we go inside?" Brittany asks quietly in her ear.
Santana nods. She lets Brittany lead her inside. She watches as Brittany locks the front door and slips her shoes off. She allows herself to be led upstairs, Brittany's hand in her own. She feels catatonic, everything is surreal as if she's in a dream. She keeps her eyes down, looking at the way Brittany's slender fingers link with hers, the contrast of skin tone.
It's too much.
When Brittany shuts her bedroom door and sighs in relief that they didn't get caught, she turns to Santana.
They stare at each other.
"You're wet," Santana says. It's the only thing she can think to say.
Brittany nods. "I got you wet, too."
Santana shrugs, eyes never leaving Brittany. "I'm fine."
"You're shivering," Brittany says, stepping closer to her. "I'm going to go get a towel, okay?"
Santana nods. It's all she can do. Nod and swallow and breath. Brittany hasn't been in her room in so long. She can smell her, or maybe it's all in her head, maybe she just misses her smell so badly she imagining it. She's still standing in the middle of her room when Brittany returns with two towels. She hands one to Santana.
"I don't want you to catch a cold," Brittany whispers, throwing her own towel over her head and rubbing her hair furiously.
Santana smiles at the familiar action. She stands and watches Brittany, holding the towel still folded in her hands.
Brittany stops and looks over. "I know you're cold," she says gently. She takes a step forward and tosses her towel over Santana's desk chair. "Come here." She doesn't wait for Santana to move, instead she takes the towel from Santana and throws it around her shoulders.
"There," she whispers.
They're standing so close that Santana can smell her. Brittany covered in rainwater. It's a sweet smell and reminds her of summer days they would swim and run inside from the rain. When their parents were at work and they could spend the day kissing without fear in the backyard.
"You should change clothes," Santana whispers. She reaches out and touches Brittany's jacket, it's so wet to the touch. She watches a few water droplets fall to her carpet.
"I'll be fine, I should go anyway," Brittany says. Her voice sounds anxious.
Santana shakes her head when Brittany steps away. She reaches out and grabs the hem of her jacket. "Don't go." She's barely whispering and can't bring herself to look up. She's too afraid to watch Brittany tell her she doesn't want to stay. She's too afraid to see the hurt she's caused.
Brittany's hands pulls Santana's away from her jacket. She holds it and runs her thumbs over the back. "Okay," she whispers. Her voice waivers. Santana looks up and sees Brittany's throat shiver as she swallows.
She suddenly finds her own nerves getting the best of her. The hand Brittany holds shakes slightly and she pulls away. "Your clothes."
"I should change," Brittany says.
Neither one of them moves away. Santana glances up at Brittany's face. Brittany's eyes lock with hers and she can't look away. More importantly she doesn't want to. She exhales quickly.
It's different being around Brittany now. Ever since she told her she loved her. It feels different, especially if they touch. She feels like she's constantly tied down and the restraint is frustrating and tiring. All she wants to do is show Brittany how much she loves her. All the time, all she wants to do is prove to Brittany that she loves her more than Artie, better. She feels her hands shaking as she reaches up slowly. She grips onto the zipper of Brittany's jacket and slowly pulls it down.
She can hear Britt's breathing change. It becomes shallow and her eyes widen slightly. Santana averts her eyes, concentrating on her hands.
The fabric clings to Brittany's skin. Santana undoes the zipper and rests her hands on the lapels of the jacket. She slides it over Brittany's shoulders and lets it fall to the ground with a wet plop. Her eyes dart up to Brittany's for half a second before she becomes afraid and has to look away. She lets her hands travel down Brittany's sides. The t-shirt under Brittany's jacket is wet, too. Santana watches her hands move lower until the tips of her fingers slip under the hem of the shirt. She lifts it slowly, rolling it up Brittany's stomach. Brittany lifts her arms and let's Santana pull the shirt over her head.
Santana drops it to the floor. She looks at the exposed skin. It glistens slightly in the light that leaks into the room from the street lamps outside. Brittany's skin is so pale and smooth. Santana's hands return to her stomach. Brittany exhales a quick breath at the contact and Santana can feel the muscles in her abdomen twitch.
"Santana," Brittany pants.
Santana's hands freeze on her skin. She stops, terrified that she's done something wrong. She knows she has. She knows Brittany is with Artie. It feels so right, though. Touching Brittany feels like coming home. She pulls her hands away slowly and looks down at the pile of clothes on the carpet.
"No, don't," Brittany whispers. Her hands find purchase on Santana's waist. Both girls stop. The air in the room feels dank from the rain outside and the cool breeze rushing in through the window makes Santana shiver. When Brittany's finger tips slip under the hem of Santana's shirt, Santana closes her eyes tight. She wants to cry when Brittany lifts the shirt over her head and pulls her close.
Brittany's skin is clammy and slick against her own. "Brittany," she sighs. She wraps her arms around Brittany's neck and buries her face into the skin there, the way she always does when she hugs Brittany.
Santana is content holding Brittany this close to her forever.
When Brittany's hand move up her back and unclasps her bra she can't help the way her breath becomes shallow or the way her sigh is pitched. The piece of clothing drop to the floor. "You're shivering," Brittany whispers into Santana's ear.
Santana nearly shudders. Brittany's breath is warm and tickles her skin. It reminds her of all of the times they've been this close. Reminds her how long it's been. Her body is so sensitive, every small touch ignites a part of Santana she thought she lost.
Brittany kisses her just below her ear and she whimpers. She can't even remember the last time Brittany touched her in any way. "Santana," she says kissing the same spot again.
Santana wants to melt. She wants to collapse on her bed and let Brittany kiss her all over. She wants to kiss Brittany back. She wants to soak up the girl that is standing so close to her now.
She wants her room to smell like Brittany again.
She steps back to her bed and Brittany follows, climbing on top of Santana as she lies down. Brittany takes the action as permission and kisses Santana's neck freely. She kisses the spot below her ear, along her jaw. She slips her lips low to the spot where her neck meets her shoulder. She kisses along all of the graceful lines Santana seems to have littering her body.
Santana feels helplessly lost in Brittany. She whimpers and the sound is pathetic in her ears, but it's all she can manage. Her hands shake to the point where she can barely undo the clasp on Brittany's bra. Her hands feel cold as they work to try and be graceful. The rest of her body is on fire.
She gasps loudly when she feels Brittany's tongue swipe along her skin.
She wills her hands to still as she fumbles with the buttons on Brittany's jeans. She groans in frustration when her fingers stumble again.
"Lemme help," Brittany whispers gently against Santana's neck. She sits up, straddling Santana and undoes the buttons.
Santana lets her eyes rove over the pale skin. She never realized how badly she missed Brittany, all of Brittany until now. She aches to feel their skin together, aches to be close to Brittany. She misses the intimacy that used to scare the hell out of her.
After Brittany gracefully shucks her pants she leans down, letting her body lie on Santana's. She kisses her lips. She's gentle at first, letting their lips slide against each other. It's like picking up an old habit, it happens so easily. Santana's hands go to Brittany's hair, slipping her fingers in and holding on, pulling her close. Their bodies are mashed together. Every inch of skin that comes into contact with Brittany's feels as if it's on fire.
Santana sighs when Brittany's tongue enters her mouth and meets her own. She feels high and light headed. For the first time in what feels like forever she feels okay. Content. It feels like the world has finally righted itself.
She feels Brittany shifting, pushing her body up and off of Santana's. Santana moans, soft and begging. When their kiss breaks she opens her mouth to ask why. She stops when she feels Brittany's hands slip under the waistband of her sweat pants. She lifts her hips up to help.
Then she's exposed, naked underneath Brittany. Brittany sinks her body down onto Santana's. They sigh in unison. The heat makes Santana's body break into a light sweat. She shifts her legs, spreading them, allowing Brittany's thigh to slip between her own.
"God, I missed you," Santana whispers. She runs her hands over Brittany's back. She wants more, wants to feel her closer. She wants to meld with Brittany and never separate.
"I missed you so much," Brittany mumbles, kissing Santana's neck, shoulders, any part of her she can reach.
Santana wraps her arms around Brittany and pulls her close, hugging her. Her body shivers and she hiccups into Brittany's neck. It isn't enough.
"What's the matter?" Brittany whispers.
"I just..." She sniffles. "Just don't leave me."
"I'm not," Brittany says quickly. She pulls away slightly, lifting herself to look at Santana.
Santana whines and tries to pull Brittany back down, closer to her. The contact feels like the only thing that will keep Santana alive after weeks of feeling deadened. Having Brittany close to her makes all the hurt disappear. "I can't."
"Santana, you're fine," Brittany says, voice tight.. She kisses Santana's forehead, her nose, her lips. "I'm right here with you."
Santana forces herself to look at Brittany. Her blue eyes are soft, inviting. She looks over every part of Brittany's face, every line or freckle she's missed so much she thought she would die from wanting. "I love you," Santana whispers.
"I know," Brittany says quietly. She bites her bottom lip. "I love you, too. So much."
It feels like Santana can breath again.