A/N: OK, well, not my best story but I had this idea in my head and it refused to go away. I may do a sequel to this from Brittany's P.O.V. but I don't know. I guess it depends on how people like this one.
…
"If you are cold at night, let the promise of my love cover you like a warm blanket."
~ Matthew White quotes
She's not like other girls. The fact became painfully obvious from her first day of kindergarten when all the parents dropped off their kids and she was forced to exit the old pick-up truck that belonged to her grandfather all by herself. She didn't know her parents then, her father had disappeared before her birth, and her mother had buckled under the pressure of being a teenage mother and ran away shortly after.
Years later she'll look at Quinn, the same age as her mother was when she was pregnant with her, and scowl at the former cheerleader's hands clasped protectively around her bulging belly. She doesn't know whether she's jealous of the obvious care in the blonde's hands or resentful because she can't help but believe that Quinn would like nothing better than to just dump the baby and move on.
Santana lived with her grandparents until she was nine, at which point her mother came back out of the blue for her grandmother's funeral. She'd been excited then despite the overwhelming sadness that her grandmother's passing had instilled in her young life, overjoyed by the prospect of finally getting to see the woman she'd wanted to meet since the moment she knew how to talk. The experience was nothing like she thought it would be, though; while her mother finally grew up and decided to take care of her, she wasn't a very attentive parent and Santana was left to fend for herself on more than one occasion.
Still, it wasn't so bad until Ms. Lopez started gaining a steady stream of boyfriends. Some of them were OK, in fact, some of them Santana loved, secretly even more than her own mother although she will never tell her that. Some of them weren't so nice, though.
Brittany was the one highlight of her life through it all; taking up the role of best friend the moment Santana hit elementary school. Still she never tells her much about the new stepfather that she gained two weeks after she turned fifteen, a drunken idiot who has a preference for her own body just little bit more than her mother's; she'll never tell anybody that.
She takes Puck's virginity the night before she turns sixteen and pretends that he took hers, too, even though he didn't. She likes to think it's her first because it's kind of enjoyable and not nearly as painful and humiliating as what she's used to.
He doesn't hold her afterwards or whisper words of love like in the movies but that's just fine. She didn't do it for that. She did it because she craved the control of being in charge of what happened to her body for once and, deep down, she craved to feel wanted by someone who she didn't despise.
In the aftermath, she reflects on how alike Puck and her stepfather are – they both only want her for her body. Immediately the thought makes her shudder, but there is one key difference that keeps her coming back to Puck after that night, time after time – he will never force her to do anything.
Oh, he's an asshole for sure but he's not that kind of asshole. And there's an important difference in that, she knows there is.
It's maybe the tenth time that they fuck, about three weeks after he knocks up Quinn Fabray – though she doesn't know it then – that he sees. There's a big purple bruise printed across her toned stomach – Garry would never hit her anywhere more noticeable – and he pauses in his ministrations. It's not the reaction she expects because this is Puck, sex is all that matters to him and his too large ego, but he gives her a knowing look – he's been to her house, he's met her step-father, he's seen the way he's leered at her – before continuing. That's it, nothing more is said and Santana is relieved. Still, she pretends not to notice when his touches become slightly more considerate and gentle or that, for the first and only time, he stays with her after.
She pretends but it leaves a lasting impression and the next day she breaks up with him on the grounds that his grades aren't good enough. They both know what the real reason is, though, but it's never said.
The Latina sleeps around after that, anything to avoid going home at night. She tells Rachael that she never says 'no'; she leaves out the part where it's because it doesn't hurt as much as when she does say it.
Finn's the next virgin she sleeps with, after Brittany points out that he is indeed younger than her, if only by about eight days, which suits Sue Sylvester's guidelines perfectly. She knows that sleeping with Finn will be an awkward experience because, well, he's a virgin and still, obviously, in love with Rachael "Manhands" Berry. But the idea of how easily she can control him during the act appeals to her so she does it anyway.
She forgets about the bruises between her thighs from last night's debacle but Finn's wide eyes instantly bring her back to reality. He doesn't know what they mean, Santana can ascertain that much, because he's far too naïve to know such things and has probably never even spoken the word rape. Still, he knows that bruises equal bad and he stutters off a question that sounds something like, "Are you alright?"
She snaps a quick mutter of "Shut up!" and seals his mouth with a bruising kiss. That's the end of it and he never brings up the matter again.
Afterwards he concludes, "It didn't mean anything," and she thinks it's the smartest thing he's ever said, though she'll never tell him that.
. . .
In the end, though, there's only one person she's never shut down when they've seen just how much she's damaged.
Santana wakes from her nightmare with a gasp and blinks rapidly, her skin clammy with sweat. A warm hand snakes up around her and pushes her sweat-soaked hair off her face, smoothing it back with a gentle kiss to her forehead.
"Nightmare again?" Brittany asks and nuzzles into her neck. In any other situation Santana would have giggled at the contact but she's still suffering from the after effects of the nightmare and trying, pretty unsuccessfully, to catch her breath. She doesn't realize she's shaking until the blonde reaches out and stills her trembling hand.
Santana swallows and nods against her best friend's head, the only person she's ever honest with. She'll never be completely honest with Brittany, though, because she's the most happy and innocent person the Latina knows and she can't stomach the thought of ruining that. She needs the other Cheerio's innocence because, although she'll never admit it, she lost hers a long time ago, way before she was ready to let it go, and sometimes she can almost feed off the blonde's and pretend it's her own, for a little while.
"Bad monster?" Brittany questions. She doesn't know about Santana's step-father or, if she does, she never says anything and Santana doubts she'll ever fill her in. Still, telling her about the 'Bad Monster' is the closest she's ever come to telling anyone about her home life and for now it's enough; Brittany's enough.
"Yeah," she croaks, voice hoarse from sleep. "Bad monster."
Brittany pouts and snuggles closer to her, naked form moulding perfectly against Santana's own. "Don't worry. I'll protect you."
And she thinks it's funny because she's the one who's supposed to protect Brittany. She shields her from the harsh looks at school and the bitchy gossip and the footballers who just think she's a dumb blonde with only air between her ears. She even punched a boy in the face when they were ten after his continual bullying of her best friend and ever since everyone has known not to mess with her.
Santana's the protector. That's how it's supposed to be.
But in the back of her mind there's a niggling thought that pulls at her unrelentingly, telling her that, in the end, it's Brittany that does the protecting. At night, in her room, when they're away from everyone else, she's the protector. Brittany's her security blanket that she wraps around herself when things get just a little too real, a blanket she'll never quite be able to let go of and Santana loves her for it.
"I know you will," she murmurs back, closing her eyes and squeezing the blonde's hand. In the arms of Brittany, she's the safest person in the world.
...