You lie there for over an hour, eyes shut tight and mind whirring. Santana lies behind you still; she shuffles about every now and again and you sense from her breathing that she is no more asleep than you are. You wonder momentarily what kind of thoughts run through her mind, what troubles her these days. You're broken from the train of thought with a start when your phone beeps and vibrates on the wooden floorboards at the side of the bed. Santana shifts behind you and your stomach sinks because you don't need to reach for your phone to know who it is that is texting you.
You open your eyes, feeling suddenly a bit queasy and you lean over the side of the bed and unlock the screen so it displays the words you're not exactly excited to read.
hey, how was ny? havnt heard fro few days, wanna hang out later? Xx
You sigh – you completely forgot you had told Sam you would be home on Sunday. He had been annoyingly understanding about your desire to visit Santana in New York though you could see that slight hint of fear in his eyes when you told him of your plans. You may have lied and told him it was Santana's idea that you visit, but you're not really sure why.
You type a quick response out with one hand while the other remains warm and tucked underneath your body.
i'm actually staying here a bit longer, so much to catch up on! hope u have a fun spring break, call when im back x
You flick the side-button on your phone that switches it to silent and roll on to your back. You feel bad - you're kind of blowing him off and you realize with a lurch of guilt that it's not even close to the first time you've done that recently. Truth be told you haven't exactly been feeling it lately, you haven't for a while, but you haven't done anything about it either. You keep telling yourself you should give this thing a chance.
You care for him, you know that much is true. You enjoy spending time with him; it's easy and it makes you feel a little less alone. He's cute and kind and you should feel happy. Something feels… off though, and the more time that passes and the closer you get to graduation and to your future, the more apparent it becomes to you. You think he's starting to fall in love with you and the thought makes you feel uncomfortable, not excited.
So you put off spending time with him, and you immerse yourself in textbooks, and you try to ignore the disappointed looks and texts he sends your way and you know you need to do something about this soon. But right now, you're way too confused about the things happening here in New York to dwell much on the confusions that await you back home.
You tilt your head to the side a little and notice Santana is lying on her side facing you, and she offers you a small smile when you look at her properly. You shift and move to mirror her position, drawing the covers around yourself to fight the way your body is breaking out in goosebumps. Thoughts of any blonde evaporate from your brain.
"Hey," she croaks quietly and you tell her hey back.
"How long have you been awake?"
"A while," she says after a careful pause. Her eyes search every inch of your face as she lays watching you, and it's as if she is looking for something, some secret or truth that she hasn't quite figured out yet. When she opens her mouth to speak though, there is no sound, just hesitation and a sad smile.
She leaves to go for a shower and you wonder at all the things you know, and all the things you don't.
When you decide you can't stay in bed any longer you wander into the living room and find Rachel, sitting on the floor flicking through photos which - to your eyes - are just several near identical headshots of herself. She's smiling like a maniac at the camera in each and every one of them and they don't look all that dissimilar to the old yearbook photos of her you used to happily deface. The thought amuses you a little and brings a smile to your face.
She looks up when she hears you and smiles back but it's not quite as bright as it usually is and when you nod at the photos in her hand she mumbles something about the perfect shot and pulls a notepad towards her to start scribbling notes.
You take up a spot on the sofa opposite her and you would be quite content to sit and quietly watch but Rachel speaks without even looking up from her notepad and her voice is a little higher than normal.
"What happened to you last night?" she asks and pauses her writing to wait for your answer and you take your time because you have a feeling you're about one wrong word away from a fully-fledged Rachel Berry inquisition.
"I didn't want to wake you up," you say with a light tone and it's then that she looks up at you. She sighs and draws her lower lip into her mouth to chew on it and you mimic her sigh. "Just say it, Rachel."
"Say what?"
"Whatever it is you're obviously dying to say." She looks mildly affronted for a moment before feigning ignorance and you narrow your eyes. She hesitates a little before speaking again.
"You know I'm only looking out for you, right?" she asks and you're a little confused because you weren't aware you needed someone to look out for you. You're about to tell her that, politely, when Santana walks into the room dressed in only a fluffy white towel and any words you were thinking of saying die in your throat. Rachel just tuts in Santana's direction.
"You know I bought you that robe for a reason, Santana."
"Yeah well as much as I appreciate the gesture, violent pink isn't really my shade."
You're still not quite capable of speech and it's silly; it's not like a towel is any more revealing than the dresses you're used to seeing Santana in on a daily basis, but there is just something about the way the droplets of water run down her skin and disappear to places you can't see. You bite your tongue and Santana moves to stand behind Rachel and scoffs.
"Seriously? I thought you were joking about this," she says with her nose wrinkled as she looks down at the photos of Rachel.
"I think it's a nice personal touch…"
"I think it will scare off all the guests." When Rachel doesn't answer, Santana just rolls her eyes and continues. "Only you would have your own birthday cake made with a photo of yourself plastered all over it. Shotgun your nose, I don't wanna get stiffed on cake portions."
"If you're not careful I will revoke your invite entirely…"
"You can't, I've already bought your present."
Rachel perks up immediately at that and smiles brightly.
"Really?" she asks and she sounds both surprised and delighted.
"Really. And no I'm not telling you what it is. It's just something small, don't get excited or anything."
Santana huffs and Rachel's smile just grows bigger. Suddenly she turns and focuses on you, and she sounds so excited when she tells you she's glad you'll be here for it and you look back and forth between her and an amused Santana and tell her great. You didn't even know Rachel's birthday was coming up, and you suppose now you'll have to find her a present, though God knows what. Maybe you'll steal one of her photos and have it put onto a mug, or a t-shirt or something…
"I didn't exactly bring any party clothes," you say and Santana assures you that you can borrow something of hers. You decline of course, because if those dresses look short even on her, then you have no desire to have your ass hanging out for a bunch of musical theatre geeks to perve on.
"We can go shopping and get you something," Rachel tells you as Santana mutters to herself about how her dresses are always a respectable length.
"What's the plan?" you ask excitedly, because you've been so focused on school these past few months that partying has fallen a little by the wayside, and you're pretty keen to get back to strutting your stuff and generally owning any dance floor you step onto.
"Tomorrow night. It will just be a small get-together," Rachel starts and Santana snorts, "Some of my friends from NYADA, some of the relatively less crazy neighbours, a few people from Santana's work."
"…Kurt's gay boyband friends…" Santana continues and Rachel shoots her a look. You're a little surprised at the lack of former or current Glee club kids, though you guess it's a long way to travel for a lot of them. Most of them anyway…
"Is Quinn coming?" you ask before you even think to approach the subject a bit more delicately and Rachel's smile fades a little as she looks at Santana who is inspecting her nails with a little too much attention.
"Eh.. I think she is planning to, yes…" she says and you nod. Surprisingly the news doesn't fill you with as much dread as you thought it might. If anything, you'll feel a little better when Quinn is actually in your sights and you can keep an eye on her. Anyway, it's you who woke up in Santana's bed this morning, not her, and the thought is strangely comforting, for now.
"Cool," you say just to say something, and Santana excuses herself to go and get dressed but not without a slightly worried backward glance to see if you really are cool. Rachel smiles at you awkwardly from the floor and the room descends into a slightly uncomfortable silence until she speaks again.
"Is that alright?" she asks and you just shrug.
"Of course," you say, because it's her birthday and she is allowed to invite whomever she likes. Maybe Quinn has more of a right to be here than you do when it comes to Rachel, even though you're starting to grow closer by the day. She looks at you for a long time, and you sense she doesn't quite know what to say.
"I'll look out for you," she blurts eventually and you feel your heart tugging at her words, "I'm here for you, if you need me." She stands and dusts off her jeans before making her way over to you and stopping in front of you. She places a hand on your shoulder as you look up at her, and gives it a quick squeeze before retreating to her bedroom and leaving you alone again.
You think maybe you've never given Rachel Barbra Berry anywhere near enough credit.
When Santana re-emerges dressed in a pair of tight cream jeans and a loose black sweater top, she glances around the room for Rachel before moving closer, taking a seat on the sofa next to you. You're flicking through a magazine but you're not really taking anything in and you can barely even muster up enough interest to enjoy the scandalously hot holiday photos of Jennifer Lawrence. There has been a thought plaguing your mind ever since the overheard conversation of this morning and you decide to voice it, knowing it will just eat away at you if you don't.
"Quinn doesn't know that I'm still here, does she?"
Santana stares at you for a moment, expression unchanged, and shakes her head softly. "Not exactly, no."
"Why not?"
She looks taken aback by the question and you wonder silently if she'll fob you off with an excuse or try to change the subject.
"I thought it might upset her," she says carefully though, and it's strikingly honest of her. It's more truth than Rachel got from her this morning, and you're grateful for it. Maybe she was affording you the same leniency, by not telling you about Quinn before. You want to know though, and quite frankly it's time you talked about it. You're tired of dancing around one another and fed up of letting your mind fill in all the blanks.
"What's going on between the two of you?"
You manage to keep your tone just on the right side of insanely jealous ex-girlfriend and mentally pat yourself on the back for it.
"I-" she starts but falters, looking entirely troubled at the direction of the conversation.
"Are you together?"
"No. I mean…" She closes her eyes. "I don't really know what we are to be honest, we haven't talked about it." She hesitates like she's not sure whether to follow through with her next words, but she goes ahead reluctantly anyway. "It's complicated."
You stare at her in anticipation, though you feel kind of dazed, like you're not really even sitting here having this conversation. "Santana…" You start and she looks at you like she doesn't know what to do with herself. "I need to know." Your voice is pleading, and her jaw tightens.
"What do you want to know?"
Everything?
"How did this even happen?"
Santana looks possibly more uncomfortable than you've ever seen her.
"I don't know, it just kind of…did." At your look, she continues. "We were at the wedding - Quinn was being weird and flirty and talking about how much she hated men. She kept dropping these little hints and I wasn't sure if she meant them or if she was just trying to cheer me up but I was drunk so I went with it. We were dancing, and then she asked if I wanted to go to her room…"
You feel bile rising in your throat and you have to look away, taking in a deep breath to clear your lungs and head.
"It didn't even occur to me that it might not be the best idea. I was drunk and lonely and it was the most attention I had gotten from anyone in a really long time. Attention that wasn't just leering or smarmy chat-up lines. Attention that actually felt good."
You guess that makes sense. You could have given her attention though. Maybe not the exact type of attention Quinn gave her…
"Everyone at the wedding was so loved-up and you… you looked so happy. I kept remembering last Valentine's Day - how different everything was, how happy we were. I just wanted to feel something." Your head snaps back up at the words.
"And did you?"
She hesitates. "Did I what?"
"Feel something. With Quinn."
You don't know why you ask the question - you're almost certain you won't like the answer. She stares at you for a long moment before she answers and maybe that answers the question in itself. You're not sure if it's fair for you to even ask, but you're trying to be friends now, and this is the kind of information friends share.
"It was different," she settles on eventually and you grimace at her words. Yeah, you're not just friends.
"Different?" Her eyes don't leave yours as she shrugs at your question. "Different how?" you push and she lets out an exasperated sigh.
"What do you want Brittany, a play-by-play?"
Definitely not. You don't need one – the images swirling round your head are vivid and upsetting enough as it is without adding more substance to them.
"No. I want to know how you feel."
"Yeah well if I knew that I'd tell you."
You feel kind of frustrated. You don't exactly begrudge her for being confused about her feelings but you feel like you need more from her - more than she's giving you. Not that she needs to explain herself to you, because she doesn't, you just really need to understand.
"What happened after the wedding?" Your voice is quiet, and she shrugs again.
"I thought it might be awkward but it wasn't. Like, it wasn't a big deal at all. We just kind of started hanging out." You stare at her to continue, because that doesn't exactly explain how they got to this point, and you think from the way she is chewing her lip she knows she needs to get to that.
"Hanging out? It's a bit more than that though, isn't it?"
"I suppose so," she concedes, dropping her gaze into her lap.
"I just… I don't get it. It feels like five minutes ago I was breaking up a slap fight between you and now you're…whatever you are."
"Quinn and I have always had a bit of a rocky relationship though. I mean, okay, we fight and bicker and wind each other up but it's always been that way. And honestly? It makes me feel kind of alive and I've felt so numb for months."
You can definitely identify with that. You don't hold it against her.
"We're not who we were anymore. Any of us. I just… Everything has changed so much these past few months. I left home, and then I left college, and now I'm in New York living with these people I didn't even like two years ago. It's a lot."
You guess she kind of has a point.
"Don't get me wrong I love it here, I do. I even like living with Berry and Hummel. But they both have their own lives – they have school and friends and the odd boy-toy now and again. They're so much more put together than I am. Having Quinn around… I dunno. It's comforting. Everything in my life now is so different and overwhelming and I needed something constant. Something familiar."
You feel tears stinging at your eyes. You didn't even know she felt this way – to you she's always been strong and fiercely independent even through all the doubts and vulnerabilities. The thought of her feeling so small and alone is hard to take. You should have been the constant - the familiar face - but you couldn't be while you were stuck in Lima, and its so frustrating. Her eyes are beginning to look glassy too, and you wonder who will be the first to break.
"It's so easy to feel lost out here Britt," she whispers and her voice waivers for the first time. "Sometimes you just need something to hold on to."
A tear does fall now, just one, because you get it. You wish you didn't, but you do. You know all about feeling lost – it's the very reason you grew closer to Sam following your failed graduation and the same reason you clung to him in the wake of your break-up. This thing with Quinn feels different somehow though, and you're not sure why.
The lone teardrop streaking its way down your cheek seems to stir something in her, and she shifts a little closer and lands a hand on your knee. You shut your eyes tightly for a moment before you quickly wipe at your eyes to mop up any other tears threatening to make themselves known and you exhale long and hard through your mouth.
"I'm glad you're not alone anymore," you manage to choke out, and you meet her eyes and see teartracks to match your own on her beautiful face. It doesn't matter really how you feel about Quinn; you never want Santana to feel lost or alone. It doesn't soothe your jealousy, but it does help you to find some reason in this crappy situation. "I guess it's just strange," you sniffle, "I was always the one that got to be there for you, and now it's someone else. Now it's a different friend."
"I-" she starts and furrows her eyebrows and frowns at you as she stutters, "It's not the same Brittany." You think that she's trying to tell you something but you're not really sure what it is, because you've never been all that great at reading between the lines. "Nothing could ever-" she tries but she takes a deep breath before she can continue. "It isn't like it was with us," she finishes and you feel some of the weight you've been carrying lift from your chest at her words.
You take a moment to compose yourself before you ask the question that is more important than any of the others you have asked her today.
"Are you happy?"
She tilts her head and sniffs, looking up to the ceiling for a quick moment before she looks back at you.
"I'm getting there, I think. But Britt, I'll always be happiest with you in my life."
And at that, the weight lessens a little more.
"Are you happy?" she mimics, and the answer is both yes and no and you're not actually sure which one to go with.
"I'm getting there," you say with a smile, partly to cause the gorgeous but quiet laugh that escapes her lips, but mostly because you think – you hope - it's the truth.
She leans forwards and wraps you in a hug so tight it feels like your circulation might be cut off and it's not absolutely everything that you need from her in this moment but it's somewhere close so you return the embrace with equal force.
When you pull back and rest your foreheads together, gazing at each other in a moment so intimate it makes you shiver, you're reminded so clearly that this is all that you want. You've never wanted anything as much as you want Santana. And it won't be the first time you've had to wait for it, but you will.
You just hope that she wants as much as you do.
You hope that it's still you that she wants.
