After her bath, Brittany's sister knocks on Brittany's door and asks if she can come in. When Brittany says yeah, she peeks her head into the room and Brittany sees that her hair is still wet, in long, spaghetti strings of soaked blonde. She holds a plastic, purple comb in her hands and wears her little fuzzy bathrobe with penguins on it. Brittany's sister glances over Brittany and Santana sitting on the bed, Brittany's laptop open beside them. She seems nervous.
"Can you help me do my hair?" she asks, voice a little shaky. She walks towards them.
"Sure," says Brittany.
Brittany's sister shakes her head. "Not you—Santana," she clarifies, offering the comb to Santana. She produces a clear plastic box full of tiny, neon plastic hair bands out from the front pocket of her robe to show that she's prepared.
Santana laughs and takes the comb, setting it on the mattress. "Okay, munchkin," she says, patting the bed where she wants the little girl to sit. Brittany scoots over to make room for her sister, setting her computer on her nightstand. Brittany's sister shuffles over to the bed and hops up onto it, crawling to the center like a cat. She settles, cross-legged, in front of Santana.
"Can you put it in all those little braids so that it's curly tomorrow?" she asks.
Santana rolls her eyes but Brittany's little sister doesn't see her do it because Santana is sitting behind her. "That takes a long time, kiddo," she says.
Brittany's sister shrugs. "Yeah, well, you have a long time. You're sleeping over, remember?"
Santana laughs. "How could I forget?"
When she doesn't say anything else and doesn't pick up the comb, Brittany's sister squirms a little. She looks between Brittany and Santana, like she knows she interrupted something. "You can just pretend I'm not here," she suggests. "Like, just braid my hair and talk mean about all the people you hate and make love-eyes at each other."
"Is that really all you think we do?" Santana says incredulously. "Talk mean about people we hate and make love-eyes at each other? Jesus."
"I don't know, San," Brittany jokes, lying back on the bed and stretching her legs out. "I think she has us pegged."
"You could kiss and stuff, too," Brittany's sister says helpfully. "I'll just close my eyes."
"Oh my god!"
