A one-shot

Brittana love.

This is the first story I've written totally from Brittany's point of view…

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My best friend's name is Santana Lopez. The only way to describe us was… er, is… as each other's other half. Without her I wouldn't be whole; and I know that now. Growing up, I just thought she was my friend, that we had this deep connection that no one else could fathom. A connection that no one on this earth could touch. Something that would take a miracle for anyone else to see. But to this day; I know I wouldn't be able to live without her. It's much more than a connection between two people, it's like a magnet that draws us to each other, a magnet that pulls us so close we morph into one person.

And I'm okay with that.

I don't exactly remember how Santana and I became so close. All I know is we were in the same preschool room, Santana was new to the class and the teacher told us all to welcome her. Too bad Santana wasn't all that welcoming herself. She made every kid that even so much as look at her cry; she was cold and serious. She only drew in black and red, and she only spoke when she felt the need to. She snarled at everyone and she cried during nap time; refusing to go to sleep. One day during nap she was especially loud, and none of the teachers could get her to stop. I got up off my cot and walked slowly across the room until her brown eyes snapped open and locked with mines. Everything seemed to stop then, including her crying. But a moment later she was back at it. And even as our teacher told her she didn't have to sleep she kept crying. I tilted my head, studying her as I started to walk closer. She was so pretty, her skin was naturally tanned and she had a hint of rose red in her cheeks. I remember how wild and curly her hair was as it sat on top of her head in two ponytails held together with bows. Her bottom lip was poked out in a pout and I mimicked her action, poking my lip out too to show her that she wasn't alone. Before I knew it my body was against her as I pulled her into a soft hug. She stopped crying then, looking over at me with red eyes.

"My mommy always hugs me when I'm sad. You must be sad because you're crying, so I'll hug you until you stop." I squeezed tighter. The teachers watched us in both shock and fear; Santana hadn't let anyone touch or comfort her since she'd got there. I guess they were expecting her to hit me like she did a kid named Noah on her first day when he tried to touch her hair, or when she slapped Quinn Fabray for laughing because she had a hole in her sock.

But she didn't hit me; I felt her melt into my body, burying her head into my neck as she stopped her sobbing. That day forward they would always have our cots next to each other's because she didn't cry when I was around. She didn't scream or threaten the teachers, she just lied there. Some days she'd watch me while I slept, I would wake up to her brown eyes staring deeply at me. "Have you been looking at me the whole time?" I finally asked one day and she simply nodded her head. I took that as a good enough answer and got up to fold my cover and we went to get our snack.

I know now that she watched me to make sure no one hurt me.

Some days we'd hold hands until we fell asleep together, others I'd hug her until she fell asleep in my arms and the teachers would lay her down so I could go to sleep.

That's just how it was.

Santana and I grew closer over the years. It was to the point where I knew more about her then she knew about herself; I knew what made her tick and what set her of, I knew how to calm her down. I knew how to make her laugh, I knew how to make her smile and I knew how to make her not be so angry all the time.

I made her happy.

I knew all her quirks and silly ways: she would dance around my kitchen in her socks to 70's rock music and she would use the broom as her mike, swinging it back and forth like she was a a star. And she was a star.

I knew all of her flaws, but most of all I knew all of her qualities. I knew that she wasn't as badass as she tried to be, and I knew she wasn't as much trouble as others thought her to be. But she often kept the other side of her life hidden from me: The dark side. I knew everything about Santana, so I knew how mysterious and quiet she could be as well. How closed off and blocked she could be. She had major walls that would take a whole damn construction team to knock down. The reason she had night mares during nap time, the reason for her panic attacks and the reason she always watched her back.

She didn't trust anything. So naturally, I always felt special. Because she trusted me more than anyone else.

But that's what worried me the most.

She kept most everything that hurt her inside and replaced it with anger. She cut people with her vicious words and often broke bones with her fist if you made her that mad. Her eyes expressed rage and fury and at times it scared me. One time though, in 8th grade she got so mad at Rachel Berry that she pinned her to the ground and began to punch her in the face. I didn't know what was wrong, Rachel could be irritating sometimes but she didn't deserve to get hurt. Everyone was crowded around them as Santana hollered and Rachel screeched, some kids were telling Santana to get off of her but it wasn't registering. I stepped in, grabbing Santana's shoulders and trying to get her off of Rachel, and in the blink of an eye she turned to me. Slamming me into the floor of the hallway and giving me a death stare. When she realized it was me she quickly let go, seeing the fear in my eyes and she shook her head, saying "No" to herself. "I'm sorry, Brittany…" She said softly, letting her shoulders drop and her hands fall to her side. "I-I didn't mean to hit you-"

"But you didn't."

"I was going to." She says in a quieter voice. "I'm sorry." My fear quickly melted and I pulled her into a hug,

"It's okay."

It took me a while to notice the bruises Santana would always have. At first, when we were kids, she'd come to school with barely noticeable red marks on her olive colored face, sometimes right above her eye, other times it would rest on the cheek. Some days she would have scratches on her arms or legs. Santana would tell me that she got into a fight with some of the neighborhood kids, or that she ran into something. But she never looked me in the eyes when she said any of this. She never said out loud like she said everything else, it was always in a whisper of a voice. On the first day of 4th grade she came to school sporting a busted lip, as the days dragged on the bruises and scars began to show up more frequently. The bruises on her body were getting darker, and I'll never forget the day she had a black and blue eye, she tried to cover it with her hair but it didn't really work.

It was late summer before we started in 7th grade in the fall that Santana and her family moved across the street from me. That was the day I saw Santana the happiest that I'd ever seen her. Her eyes lit up when she ran over to my front lawn and tackled me to the ground as our laughs filled the neighborhood.

That summer was the best summer ever.

It consisted of us learning how to cook; we gave up on dolls and started to experience with makeup. We stayed up late watching horror movies; we would talk all day and hang out by my pool. Some nights we'd sneak out and would walk to the park; Santana told me it was always more fun at night. And even though I was scared she'd always take my hand and pull me close, whispering to me, "I won't let anyone hurt you, Britt-Britt." And that was safety enough for me. On those summer nights we would sit on the jungle gym and discuss anything and everything. Santana always sat on the steps that led up to the slide sitting with her feet up on the opposite wall while I lied on my back with my head in her lap. She would tell me her dreams and hopes as she played in my hair. She dreamed to be a singer; a famous one with fans screaming her name. She hoped to get out of Lima and find a better life, better people. "Like you," She would always say. "You're the best thing I have…" that would always make me blush because Santana never knew that she was the best thing in my life as well. She never knew how much I loved her.

But she lost sight of those dreams.

She never wanted to go home. She said it was because she liked my room and my bed better, she enjoyed waking up next to me and smelling my mom cooking breakfast for us before she left for work. So I never made her go home, some night my parents would tell us no and she would leave sadly.

I've never closed my window. No matter how cold it was outside in the winter. No matter how hard it rained in the fall. Not even in the summer time when it was 90 degrees out and my mom had the AC running.

I never closed my window.

I couldn't bring myself to do it.

I didn't care how hard the wind blew, my window was never shut. Late at night, sometimes around 9 pm, other times much later, I could hear someone climbing up my window into my room on the second floor. And after they closed the window themselves, they'd crawl into bed with me and they'd lay there silent, sure not to wake me. But I never slept until I knew they were there. Without a word I would turn onto my side and wrap my arms around them, and without a word they would cuddle close to me, burying their head into my neck like they did the day we met.

I remember the first night Santana crawled into my window. I had just came up from dinner and was about to watch TV when I heard a rustling outside. I jumped up, thinking it was a raccoon trying to get in through the chimney, and just as I was about to call for my father, Santana hoped in through the window, landing on their feet and looking up at me. My first thought was how did she get up there?… but from the looks of her red eyes, rosy flushed cheeks and slightly messy hair; I didn't ask anything.

"I wanted to come and play with you," She try to say in a strong voice, but it came out shaky and untruthful.

"This late at night?" Santana simply nodded,

"I'll even play Barbie's with you," She said quickly, she had always hated Barbie's and she felt like we were much too old for dolls. "Please?" She asked again. I was powerless against her, so I just said yes. I walked over to my toy chest and pulled out my Bratz dolls. I handed Santana Yazmin and I took Chloe.

From that night on I never closed my window, no matter what.

The summer before 9th grade I didn't see Santana much because she got grounded. She told me it was because she forgot to do the dishes and so her dad grounded her for the whole summer. But something told me there was more to the story, but I didn't pry. She would sneak over when he went to work, and when he was sleep she would call me on the phone to make sure I was okay. It was that summer that we kissed for the first time. It was a joke, we were making fun of the people on TV and we kissed in my backyard. It was a simple peck, a light touch of our lips but it set me fire. Her lips were so soft, and so full. After a second we both pulled away, we were smiling and Santana tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, turning away from me. "How was it?" I asked her, she giggled in a low voice and kept smiling. It was the first time I'd heard her giggle or seen her blush,

"It was okay," She responded shyly. "Maybe we could practice…" She said again, "You know, you b-boys…" I nodded my head and agreed,

"For the boys."

After that day we started kissing more and more. Santana's lips were like a drug to me and I was addicted. As the summer went on, Santana would sneak out of her house and over to mines, we'd spend hours perfecting out technique. Adding tongue one day, then lip biting. I never knew one person could make me feel like this, so high and mighty. But Santana did. She made me feel like there was nothing else but us.

I had always saw Santana as more than a friend, more like a soul mate. It had been drilled into my mind from the moment I was old enough to understand that women belonged with men; point blank.

But I didn't care. Santana was too magical for me not to love. She had this was of moving that made me melt. When she spoke I could feel my heart rate pick up, and she when we touched I could feel my skin heat up. Her voice gave me goose bumps and her laugh made me smile. To it didn't matter that Santana was a girl, I just needed her more than I needed anything else in this world.

Santana protected me like it was her job. She didn't let anyone hurt me and get away with it. She didn't stand for anyone disrespecting me. Our sophomore year I dated a guy; Adam. Well, Adam cheated on me with some senior on the Cheerio's. Not only did Santana give the Cheerio a bloody nose, she literally punched Adam is his face, screaming that should have been honored that I even looked at him when he first asked me out. She told him before we went out that if he hurt me she would make him pay for it; and he did. Of course Santana got suspended, but she didn't care. She said they both deserved it.

High school only brought us closer. We joined the Cheerio's in hopes of being cool, but it affected Santana in a different way. She began sleeping around; it started out slow and innocent, us inviting guys over and we'd make out with them in my basement. I never minded because we were there for each other. We would sit on the same couch, and Santana and I always sat close and held hands while we kissed whoever was over. But the first guy was Jim during our freshmen year, it started with a double date with me and her and Puck and Mike Chang. When we got to the theater Jim suggested that Santana and him sit in the back while Craig and me sat somewhere else; he wanted to be alone with her. I felt jealous and angry, how dare he want to be a lone with my best friend! And when I looked at her I could see the fear in her eyes, the shake in her hand as he asked us to leave them alone. But she told me it was fine. She assured me it was okay. She told me to go and sit with Craig somewhere and then they disappeared in the dark. When we got home that night she told me he touched her under her dress, pass her panties. I didn't know what to say and neither did she. I could tell she wanted to cry but Santana had too much pride for that. She never cried in front of people. So I just held her while she hugged me back and like always, I told her it was okay.

But that didn't stop her. She kept going, sleeping around with the football team, the basketball team, even some of the hockey players. The days we talk she told me it felt good, that they made her feel good. They made her feel loved. And even if it was only for a moment that she liked having that feeling. But I could tell they were draining her; she was becoming a shell of her former self. She became colder, more closed off and angry. She pretended not to care but I knew she did because I knew her better than anyone. I knew what she was like and how she thought and they were killing her slowly. It was to the point where guys only asked her out to sleep with her; I hated seeing her treated like that because my Santana deserved more. She needed more.

On the nights after they would use her she'd crawl through my window and cry in my arms. I'd tell her to let it go and not be afraid to break down to me because I'd always be here.

One specific cold night Santana crawled into my window sobbing. It was the middle of December our senior year and she was freezing. Her hair was a mess and she looked just how she did the first night she had ever crawled in my window; broken. Her cheeks were red and so were eyes, she hugged herself tightly and she just cried. I watched her slide down the wall, and wrap her arms around her knees and pulling them close to her chest. "W-why i-i-is everythi-g so hard for me, Britt?" She asked me through clouded eyes. She closed them tightly and she cried harder. "Why do people h-hurt me?" She asked. I ran to her and pulled her into me, holding her like I always do and letting her cry.

All I could do was tell her that I didn't know. I didn't know why people hurt her because she was the most wonderful person in the earth. She opened her eyes to look at me and everything she had ever tried to hide from me was being poured out and spilling into me, making my heart swell and drain at the same time. She was pouring herself out to me through her tears and I cried too. "I'd never hurt you," I told her through my tears. "I'd never hurt you Santana, because I love you too much. I love you…" I said slowly, repeating myself and again. Wanting to say the words as loud as I could. "I love you." She shook her head; she shook her head and begins to say no.

"No you don't. You can't. I'm not loveable, I don't deserve love. Especially not from someone like you. You deserve someone better than me. Someone who isn't… someone who hasn't… Brittany, you don't know what I've done… what's been done to me. My dad-"

"I don't care about any of that, Santana. I don't." I pulled away from her so I could look at her and she could look at me. "I mean, I do… I want you to open up to me and tell me but I love you for you. For everything you are and everything you're not. For everything you've been though, everything you've gotten through. I love you." She cried harder, and my heart broke even more. I wanted to show her how much I loved her, how much I cared for her, how much my heart ached for her.

So I did.

I tilted my head and kissed her like I did our very first time. Softly, just a peck that sent shivers through the both of us. She leaned forward a bit and kissed me as well. Her full lips took over and I could feel her melting into our kiss, letting herself go and finally being free. "I want you," I whispered to her, both our lips swollen and bruised from the kiss. "I want you more than any of those guys. I want to hold you, and appreciate you. I want you forever" I whispered into the dark of the room. The moon light shined through, illuminating the brown of her eyes. I'd never seen Santana so vulnerable. So weak yet so strong as she shook her head yes. She bowed her head, dropping it and resting against my forehead and she said yes.

She told me I could have her and she began to beg me to take her away from the pain. I kissed her tears away, venturing off to her lips and kissing them gently, taking the bottom one and sucking on it with care. "Please, take me." She begged. I nodded my head and we stood up, she crawled onto my bed like she's done so many times before but this time seemed different. We weren't lying and telling each other that this was just practice for guys. We knew this was for us and us only. To express the love that we never had before.

As I settled on top of her, she began to cry again. She looked at me, not breaking out eye contact once as she cried. "P-please don't hurt me, Brittany. I just-"I stopped her with a kiss. Our lips moved together in a perfect rhythm, our tongue dancing and exploring. I heard her moan, it was low and barely audible, but I heard it. I avert my lips to her face; kissing her everywhere I could to assure her that I'm not them. I pepper kissed on her lips and cheeks, her jawline and her forehead. I finally pulled away, my hands finding the bottom of her shirt and slowly lifting it up past her breast.

"I won't." I whispered and kissed her again. "I can't hurt you." I told her. I kept my voice low as if the sound of my voice would break this moment I'd been dying for the past three years to happen. To have Santana Lopez in my bed, in my arms, letting me love her like she deserved. "I promise." She helped me get her shirt off, and very slowly I peeled off her legging. She was shaking now, her head rested on my hello kitty pillow and she stared up at the ceiling breathing deeply. I shifted my position and kissed her cheek, I began to caress her sides, trying to comfort her. "What happened tonight?" I asked finally, it got her attention because she looked at me with tear filled eyes and she just shook her head.

"I just want to make love to you, Brittany. Please, I don't want to talk about my father." She whispered and I nodded my head.

"Okay, we don't have to." She smiled weakly and leaned up; kissing me once more and I kissed her back. Letting all of the love I had for her go into that kiss; she needed it. Santana tangled her finger in my hair; gripping them gently and pulling me closer to her until our front were pressed into each other. I wanted to take things slow, show her how much she meant to me and that she so much more than her body.

Even though it was damn beautiful.

Santana opens her mouth wider, kissing me with more passion and need. I open my eyes to find her looking at me and I smile, "You're beautiful." I tell her, "So beautiful." She closes her eyes and sighs, and then she smiles.

"Thank you." She says with a broken voice.

"Mhm, it's true." I nuzzle our noses together and kiss her again on the cheek, moving up slightly and kissing another tear away. Her hands wonder down, pass my neck, down my spine and to the small of my back and she grips onto the bottom of my shirt, pulling it up and getting it off of me easily, leaving me in just a pair of panties. Her eyes go wide and she grins, licking her lips and reaching up to massage my breast. I arch into her touch and she pulls at my nipples, twisting rolling them between her fingers. "Uhg…" I say in a low voice,

"Are your parents' home?" She asks me, reaching up and taking the shell of my ear in her mouth. I shake my head slowly, feeling my arousal grown.

"N-no." I shift my head and I'm kissing her neck now, nipping at the bare skin and sure to leave a bruise. I wrap my arms around her back and unhook her bra, chucking to the floor once it's off and her full, olive colored breast are dangling free. I don't waist anytime and begin to touch her with all the care I can.

I push her down slowly, letting her get comfortable in my bed as she gets under the sheets and I got to close the window and my blinds. When I turn around I see her pulling her panties off under the covers and dropping them the ground.

When I crawl to her I got straight for her neck, I venture off to her collarbone and then down to her breast, taking a nipple in my mouth and sucking on it, getting a moan from her. It's so quiet in my house that every noise we make is being magnified. And I like it. I like being able to hear her so perfectly. She grips my hair again, letting her fingers in get lost in my blonde locks and she urges me to continue. After I do the same thing to the other breast, I continue to kiss my way down, feeling her stomach muscle clench and tighten under my lips, I lick patterns over her abs, tracing the defined line in of her belly. I can smell her arousal from here and it's getting me even more excited. I snake my hands under her thighs and spread them nice and wide, and I hear her gasp and say my name under her breath. I grin and lean down, licking her slit one teasing time, making her shake and tighten her grip. I move to her things, kissing the olive skin there and licking them slowly. "B-Brittany…" she whines. I look up at her and she's looking down at me, her eyes begging me to do something.

"Shhh…" I tell her as I continue to pepper kisses up and down her thighs. I knew Santana's body better than anyone. I had her birth marks memorized; I knew where she liked to be kissed and how she liked to be kissed. I knew how to touch her and make her shiver with want. And she never looked as gorgeous as she did in this moment. Her body shaking in anticipation for me, her bottom lip sitting between her teeth as her eyes focused on me. I teased her, made her really feel me before I took my first lick.

I lapped at her core, her beautiful, soaking, wet, hot center and I enjoyed every minute of it. I dug my tongue deeper, needing to taste every inch of her, wanting to have her taste on my tongue forever. She was so sweet and I thought I was going to pass out from how she smelled.

So damn delicious.

I took that pink, swollen bud of her's between my lips, sucking on it with such care and precision that she locked her legs around my head. I used my hands to keep her legs spread and her bottom half at a certain level so I'd have the perfect leverage to please her.

I shifted off, wondering back up to her lips and catching them between mines; She groaned and cried when my fingers pried deep into her. She was so soft and warm, so wet and sweet. I moaned with her, letting my fingers plunge into her and she cried out. She cried my name, words spilling from her throat as she reached up and gripped onto my back; digging her nails deep in my skin as she trembled. With a brush of my thumb, I was rolling her clit between my fingers and she was puddy now. Santana threw her head back and screamed; she cried to the heavens and squeezed her eyes shut. Her body tighter, her nails scratch up and she held on for dear life. "Tell me you love me," I whispered in her ear, "Tell me, Santana." I demanded softly, not once stopping my actions.

She quivered, she whined and gasped as her orgasm hit and clenched around me, "I-I'I love y-ou… I love… Brittany…" She breathed in deeply and let it go with a deep sigh. She huffed and screeched, "I love you, so much!" She began to chant. Telling me she loved me and no one else as her orgasm hit her like a gust of wind. I could feel her crumbling, dying beneath me and crying into my shoulder as I pulled my fingers from her slowly and held her.

"I know you do," I caressed her body, letting her tremble and shake in my arms, letting her know like always…

It was ok.

/

Thoughts?