Santana sat on the couch, an arm draped around her girlfriend (she thinks there's no better feeling than being able to call Brittany her girlfriend), watching some cliché love story.
She didn't have a choice, okay? It was Brittany's turn to pick the movie.
(Brittany would totally agree with anyone who said Santana was whipped because, hello, she is, but Santana would never admit it, which Brittany thought was endearing.)
Santana was only partly paying attention to the chick flick that was so unimportant to her that she couldn't be bothered to remember what it was called. She was much more interested in running her fingers delicately up and down Brittany's arm and occasionally secretly hoping to distract her by pressing tiny kisses to any accessible part of her pale skin. In all honesty, she felt kind of offended when her girlfriend would just snuggle further into her (even though snuggling with Brittany is like eating your favorite flavor ice cream in heaven) and focus her attention back on the movie. Like, who wouldn't want all up on her? Sure, the main chick was hot, but come on. She was Santana freakin' Lopez. She puts all the models to shame.
Internally rolling her eyes, she continues trailing her fingers down Brittany's skin, delighting in the goose bumps she left in her wake. It was still unreal that she had that kind of effect on Brittany.
Grudgingly realizing Brittany wasn't going to be up for any sweet lady kisses any time soon, she tried to at least fix her eyes back on the movie.
The first thing she noticed was that the music in the background had changed. It was slow, sensual, expanding at points and sinking back into itself at others, the instruments telling a story. Santana knew what this was. Something sad was going to come up soon enough.
Great. Fucking fantastic.
The characters confessed their never-ending love for each other (predictably). There were tears (inevitably). Santana was about to fall asleep.
Except.
Something was up. Brittany wasn't relaxing comfortably into her embrace, and she wasn't breathing those deep breaths of hers that reassured Santana she wasn't leaving. No, something was definitely up. Her breaths were uneven, almost shaky. It wasn't until Santana felt drops of wet warmth spread across her shirt that she decided to pause the movie.
Tossing the remote carelessly back on the couch, Santana tried to get a better view of her face. "Babe?" she asked cautiously.
Brittany kept her head down, refusing to look up. After a few seconds, she shook her head and swung a leg over Santana's hip and one of her arms over her waist. "Sorry," she whispered.
Santana was majorly confused. She encircled her arms more securely around Brittany's waist, relaxing her by rubbing soft circles in her shoulders. Brittany was always soothed by physical contact, and Santana knew that so she tried to give Brittany a safe, cocoon-y feeling whenever possible.
"For what, Britt? What's up?" Santana frowned, worried.
Brittany took a deep breath, as if trying to compose herself before she spoke. "I-It's just… It's so s-sad, San," she choked out before falling into a fit of sobs.
Santana wanted to smile a little bit. She also kind of wanted to die because Brittany crying was so wrong, but she was just so cute. She hugged the sobbing girl closer to her body and murmured soothing words in her ear.
"T-They weren't a-allowed to b-b-be together, San! Why is it so unfair?" Brittany kept bawling into Santana's chest.
"I know, sweetie, I know. It's gonna be okay, just breathe."
Brittany took a few more minutes of shuddering breaths before her arms unclenched around Santana and her tears mostly stopped. Santana tenderly stroked her blonde bangs away from her eyes and ran her fingers through Brittany's hair. "Do you want to keep watching, baby?"
Brittany nodded.
Santana sighed. "If you say so," she gave in.
(Again, whipped.)
She pressed play and let Brittany cuddle further into her. It felt like someone stuffed her heart in a paper shredder whenever Brittany cried, but Brittany would be over it soon. She'd probably fall asleep instantly after the movie ended, content in Santana's arms. And Santana was absolutely fine with that. She wouldn't mind sleeping practically sitting up on the couch, even if her back would protest.
(Brittany gave awesome massages, anyway.)