Brittany was only six years old, but she already had a best friend. They met at preschool when Brittany was four – ages ago, she thinks now – and she already knew they were going to be best friends forever and ever. No one else in first grade (and how cool was it that they were in first grade now?) really seemed to get it, though. They were all nice to Brittany, but no one seemed to want to be nice to Santana. The little blonde girl didn't get it. Personally, she thought Santana was as awesome as peanut butter and fluff sandwiches, which she is only allowed on special days even though it's her favorite because her mother didn't like her to have a lot of sugar since she had too much energy already. Maybe it was because Santana said funny words sometimes in her language called Spanish (which sometimes Brittany wondered if she made up since no one seemed able to understand her words), or because she pushed Finn off the jungle gym once in kindergarten, or maybe because she broke all of the crayons in Rachel's box once because the other girl had called Brittany a mean word. Whatever their reasoning, no one seemed willing to play with her, which left only Brittany.
Neither girl minded.
They were best friends, and because they were best friends, they did everything together. It didn't matter that the other kids thought Santana was mean or that they didn't know why the little sunny-haired girl stuck around her. Because the other kids were peanut butter and jelly, but Santana was peanut butter and fluff so she was special and Brittany liked her best of all. Besides, the dark-eyed girl was different with Brittany. The mean look she so often wore on her face would go away when it came to her blue-eyed best friend. Maybe it was because they'd met in preschool and not first grade or even kindergarten. Maybe it was because she knew her before the other kids picked on her Spanish words and before she pushed Finn down and before she broke those crayons. Santana always helped her with hard things, like writing the letter R or adding numbers together. She never called her mean words and she never pushed her down or broke her crayons. Whatever the reason, she and Santana were best friends.
The girls spent every Friday and Saturday night together- Fridays at Brittany's house and Saturdays at Santana's – because they were best friends and that was what best friends do. It made Santana feel grown up because her big sister had sleepovers too- and Santana's were better because she had more and because it was with one friend instead of a lot, which meant her friend was better. Santana, even at six, liked to win. So, the sleepovers happened every week. That was the routine they'd had for a little less than a year now and they loved it. They would eat dinner, play a game, and then watch a movie. After all of this, one of their parents would read them a story and they'd curl up together in bed and go to sleep- Brittany didn't tell anyone that Santana still sucked her thumb sometimes and Santana didn't tell anyone Brittany still liked to sleep with a blankie. They were best friends, and best friends knew how to keep secrets.
It was on one such night that they two lay in Brittany's pretty pink canopy bed, Santana sleepily sucking on her thumb as her friend's mother finished the last page of their story. "… And so the Prince and the princess had a grand wedding and the whole kingdom was invited. And they all lived happily ever after. The end." Dianne Pierce shut the book gently, smiling to herself before she set it back on the little white bookshelf beside Brittany's closet. "And now it's time for you two little princesses to go to sleep. Goodnight." The blonde woman bent and placed a soft kiss first on her daughter's forehead, then on the little Latina's. "Sleep well."
"Mama?" Fighting off sleep, the drowsy, blue-eyed girl shifted on her bed to face her parent. Always willing to listen to her children, Dianne sat on the edge of the bed and smoothed blond curls off her daughter's brow.
"What, baby?"
"Since San and me are both princesses, can we get married an' have a grand wedding with the whole kingdom?" Beside her, the little dark-haired girl popped her thumb out of her mouth and shifted to get a better look at them, obviously interested in the answer as well, though she tried to hide it (she only let their parents read them baby stories because Brittany liked them best, she'd claimed once, but Brittany knew she liked them too. It was another best friend secret). It had been an innocent question, and there was no concern on Dianne's part. It was cute, how the two were friends, and she never thought more of the inquiry. Little girls often claimed they were going to marry their best friends at this age. After all, boys were still icky at this point, so why would they think differently.
So it wasn't panic in her voice when she answered. Rather, she sounded perfectly calm, even somewhat amused, as she said, "Princesses marry princes, baby. You'll both grow up and find your very own princes one day. But don't grow up too fast, okay? I love my little princesses just the way they are right now." Again she kissed each girl goodnight, and when she moved toward the door this time, neither child stopped her. There was a long silence after the door was closed in which neither friend spoke.
Not until Santana asked, "Why are you sad, Britt?" Because Santana was her best friend and knew Brittany's expressions better than anyone, and she knew Brittany was upset over something now because she was pouting. She could see the way the blonde's lip poked out in the dim light of her friend's duck nightlight, which cast a yellowish glow over the bed. Brittany sighed heavily and dropped her blue eyes down, tiny fingers plucking at her blankie. Sometimes it was hard having a best friend, especially a smart best friend, because Santana knew everything.
"I don't wanna be princesses anymore, San," she whispered, and her voice sounded funny. The way it did when she was upset and trying not to cry, which she knew made Santana sad as well. She tried hard not to cry in front of her because it always made the dark-haired girl mad at someone and she didn't want Santana to be mad at her mommy.
This explanation seemed to confuse Santana, who knew for a fact Brittany loved pretending to be princesses. "Why?" she asked, sitting up a little and leaning on her elbow so that she could peer down at her best friend.
"Because!" she said loudly, before casting a nervous glance towards her door and down at her blankie again. Her voice was quiet when she spoke again. "Because, San, two princesses can't get married and getting married means being together forever and how can we be best friends forever if we can't get married? We promised to be together forever. We swore. So we can't be princesses anymore 'cause then we'll break a promise." And that weird sound was back in her voice, only now it sounded more like she was starting to cry and Santana hated to see her friend cry. Her little face hardened into a determined expression, the one she wore when she decided she wanted something and went after it. Brittany was Santana's best friend, so she knew what that look meant. She knuckled away tears as the little Latina girl stood up on her bed and offered a hand, her nearly black eyes glittering with that same I-get-what-I-want look.
"Don't cry, Brittany." She said it softly, even though it was obviously an order. When her blonde best friend took her hand, she dragged her up so that they stood facing each other on the bed, pale eyes teary and dark eyes resolute. "I got an idea. How about I'll be a prince instead, an' then because I'm a prince and you're a princess, we can get married when we're old, okay? Does that sound good?"
Brittany thought it sounded like the best idea ever, but she hesitated, biting her lower lip. "Isn't that breaking the rules? Mommy still calls you a princess. I don't think she'd call you a prince."
Santana scoffed and rolled her dark eyes in a look that would become her trademark down the road. She thought it was a bit silly to be having this conversation – they weren't real princesses, after all – but it was important to Brittany and so it was important to her. Besides, she liked playing Princesses with Brittany, especially when she got to beat up the dragon. Sometimes their game got so loud and intense the other kids even wanted to join at recess, so she got to fight a real dragon- who was usually Noah, because he said his hair was like the spikes on the dragon's back, and besides, he was a Puckasaurus, and dinosaurs were almost like dragons. Even Santana could not fight off that logic. "That's okay. I'll be like… a secret prince. So we can get secret married when we're old and no one can say anything because even though they think I'm a princess, I'm a prince. Okay?"
Brittany considered this. Maybe she really knew it was all pretend, but the idea cheered her up considerably. After a moment, she bobbed her blonde head up and down in agreement, sniffing and wiping at her damp cheeks. "Promise you'll always be my secret prince, San?" she whispered, holding out her pinky for that time-honored gesture of a pinky promise. They were sacred things, and neither girl would ever dream of breaking a pinky promise.
Santana, all wide dark eyes and solemn expression, nodded her own head before reaching out and hooking her pinky around Brittany's. "I promise, Britt. Forever." Brittany grinned then because Santana never lied to her and pinky promises could never be broken. It made her feel happy to know that Santana would always be with her now because Santana was just as good as peanut butter and fluff (maybe even better) and she knew she couldn't go forever without her favorite sandwich, so forever without her best friend was even more of a no-no. So she lay back down on her bed, sleepy again now that the problem was resolved. Santana lay down as well, their pinkies still linked as the blonde grabbed her blankie and brought it against her chest and the brunette popped her thumb back in her mouth. She watched Brittany as the other girl almost instantly fell asleep. Santana's expression was fierce as she curled closer to her friend, pinky tightening just slightly. "I promise," she whispered again, before her heavy eyelids fluttered closed and she drifted off as well.
Ten years later found the pair in almost the exact same position, because they were still best friends. Though the bed had since changed and their choice of sleep attire had matured. When they were six, they'd worn matching princess pajamas in different colors (pink and purple). At sixteen, their chosen sleepwear this evening was… well… nothing. They lay curled together beneath the patchwork quilt of Brittany's no-longer-pink bed, their pinkies twined and the blonde's head pillowed on the darker girl's shoulder. They were both naked, skin damp from the aftermath of activities that weren't quite as innocent as bedtime stories, and Brittany was feeling just a little sad because she knew when they went to school on Monday she wouldn't be able to snuggle with Santana just this way, which was sad because she'd decided long ago that Santana was even better than peanut butter and fluff. But she remembered their promise, and she remembered that Santana was her secret prince, and she knew her friend wanted to keep it that way. "San," she whispered sleepily, fingers tracing lazy patterns over the Latina's abdomen.
"Mmm."
"You're still my prince, 'kay?" The words slurred together, the last assertion barely escaping the blonde's lips before she fell asleep against her closest friend's side, the hand that had been tracing lazy patterns falling over her side so that the girl's arm was draped across Santana's middle. The brunette sighed a little and tilted her head back, closing her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, it was so that she could stare up at the ceiling for a long moment.
"Yeah, Britt, I know," she whispered into the dimly lit room (the duck nightlight was still plugged in, as it always had been). "Forever." Her pinky tightened briefly around Brittany's before she turned her head and buried her face in Brittany's sweet-smelling hair, drifting slowly to sleep.
Brittany was sixteen years old, and Santana was sixteen years old, and they were best friends and lovers. Brittany thought Santana was even better than peanut butter and fluff sandwiches and Santana thought…
Well, Santana knew she was pretty much in love with her best friend.