Inspired by a picture on Tumblr. If you want to see it, private message me and I'll send you the link.
Aided by a song by Ingrid Michaelson, 'Overboard'. Listen to it. It's awesome.
Santana never needed anyone. Never. Not her father, not her mother, not her brothers, no one.
With Brittany it was different. She didn't need her as much as wanted her in her life. With Brittany, it was her finally letting go of every little thing in her life that made her seem strong and being who she really was. She really was as strong as she wanted everybody to think she was, but with Brittany she didn't have to keep it up. For once, Brittany could be the one being strong, she could be the one protecting her from the rain, or whatever metaphor fit here.
It would take much more than a few snarky comments to bring Santana down. And the only person who could really make her fall head over heels was sleeping in bed right next to her.
And the only reason she fell anyways was because she knew that Brittany would always catch her.
Always.
"Santana?"
"Yes, baby?"
"What time is it?"
"It's early, go back to bed, ya?"
"OK…" Brittany mumbled, crawling up into a sitting position to meet Santana's lips. She pressed her own to them lightly, and then fell back onto the pillows, giving a small snore. Santana laughed to herself before wrapping her arms around the love of her life and pulling her up to use her body as a pillow. Brittany muttered something about her being very comfortable before drifting back off.
Santana marveled at the way their skin tones contrasted, how everything about them seemed different. When she was stuck between sleep and waking up, like she was right now, waiting for the last dredges of drowsiness to leave her eyes, she always thought about it. People always saw them differently. She was the mean girl, Brittany was the ditzy blonde. She was the Latina with a fiery passion, Brittany was the typical all-around American girl everyone wanted to bang because she looked cute. She was the intellectual, the one who actually bragged that she listened to good music and read interesting novels, Brittany was the one who came out with strange theories and hypotheses every other hour.
And yet they couldn't fit more perfectly.
Santana's mother always told her that there were three things that made you fall in love with a person: imperfection, the bits of yourself you see in them, and the differences you have between you.
The Latina looked down at the blonde cuddled up to her chest and crossed out imperfections. To say that about Brittany was to be blasphemous. There was no such thing as an imperfection on any part of the blonde's body.
The bits of herself she saw in Brittany? Brittany had nothing in common with Santana at all! They were like two different ice cream flavors. Brittany was strawberry: sweet and loved by pretty much everyone. Santana was dark chocolate: very few people really appreciated her.
But the differences there were between them? Definitely! They were Yin and Yang, tea and coffee, spring and autumn, the mountain and the sea, the sun and the moon…
She could go on forever.
"Santana?"
"Yes, Britt?"
"I wish we could just stay like this forever."
"Me too, Britt…me too…"
When she gets out of bed today, the façade goes back on. The rock-solid armour she'd made for herself will protect her from the rest of the day, and she'll go back to being an impenetrable force of HBIC.
But right now, in this timeless state between waking up and going back to sleep, the only thing that really mattered was that the Yin to her Yang was happy, she was happy, and she was safe with the knowledge that if she ever fell, Brittany would catch her.
Because Brittany could always catch her.