AN: Hey! Did you all survive the apocalypse? I hope so! :P Alrighty, long chapter. Sorry if it's jumpy- but I hope you'll like it little apocalypse surviving warriors! :) Enjoy!

Brittany lay on her bed after school, fiddling with a unicorn figurine in her hands, trailing her finger over the detailed strands of hair and curling horn, thinking things over.
She was very happy. Happy with the friendship Santana was supplying her with, it was different than her friendships with Kurt or Artie or Sam or Tina. As much as she loved all four of them, and cared for them- she felt like there was something more with Santana. Maybe it was because, every now and again, the girls walls toppled down for her, and she became soft. An emotion Brittany previously thought Santana was incapable of.
Brittany thought of the note, resting safely in her piggy bank, and couldn't help but compare what her other friends would do if they had witnessed Quinn's verbal attack; They would all be supportive, that was obvious. Kurt would hug her and remind her of all the things he loved about her, as he did when she was feeling low self-esteem; her eyes, hair, cheekbone structure...
Sam would squeeze her tight and formulate some kind of plan to slushy- or if it had been a guy- punch in the face, that he would need to be reasoned out of.
Artie was never one for comfort. He would say he thought she was very pretty, and offer to play some Halo and buy ice cream.
Tina would point out that they were probably just jealous of something, and to try to brush it off- we'll get farther in life than they will.
But Santana... Santana told her to stay true, she told her she was beautiful, and to just fuck them, they weren't important.
Of course, the sting of what Quinn said would stay a while. But she would just need to try her hardest to avoid her so her self esteem could rise back up to her nornal level. Which still wasn't very high.

"Britt? Mom wants to know what you want for dinner?" Joel asked, poking his face in through Brittany's door, his round eyes sparkling happily.

"Tell her it doesn't matter to me..." Brittany mumbled in response, then stopped, "Hey, Joel, wait a second,"

Her little brother froze while he was in the middle of turning on heel.

"Yeah?"

Brittany sighed, and sat up, suddenly looking her little brother over with sisterly curiosity.

Joel furrowed his brow, "What?"

"I want a progress report," She smiled at him, letting him know she was snooping.

"What?" He repeated, blank on what she was asking.

"Marie," Brittany clarified, "How are things going with Marie?"

Joel frowned, the sad looking puppy expression took over his face, "She still doesn't notice me..."

"Are you taking my advice on being a gentleman?"

Joel groaned; she had badgered him about it a lot, but it was also clear that he had a huge, adorable little boy crush on Santana's little sister. Fitting, seeming she had a huge, probably by public standards; less adorable crush on Marie's big sister.

"Yes! Open the doors for her, ask her how her day is, and let her borrow my Crayons."

"Good boy. Ok, go tell mom I don't care whats for dinner as long as it's not meatloaf."

Brittany's little brother nodded dutifully, and disappeared downstairs again.
Which left her back in her thoughts once more.
Eventually, she snatched up her phone and decided to toss whatever self restraint she had out the window when she sent a text over to Santana.

Santana, are we kind of friends?

It was a question of curiosity. Sure, Santana had said she would stop being so mean, and obviously she had stuck up for her a couple times; but Brittany couldn't recall the word friend in any of their conversations.
Brittany held her breath as she waited, and waited, and waited eons for her phone to make some kind of response.
Five minutes after her text was sent, she got one;

Yes.

And that was that. For thirty seconds.

How does our friendship work?

It was an immediate question that came to her mind- and since her self restraint was blowing somewhere in the wind, she sent it off without a second thought.

What do you mean?

What do I mean?
Brittany bit her lip, and thought about how she could translate her bubbles of thoughts into words.

I mean, how does it work? Are we secret friends or something? Because, you can't really be too obviously friendly towards me at school or anything. So... how does it work?

That was the best she could come up with.
There was a few minutes of silence from her phone, before it made a small jingle as she recieved another text.

Yes, we are secret friends. It works because we make excuses.

What kind of excuses?

It was another question that was tossed into cyberworld without thought.

The kind that I'm failing algebra, or we're Spanish partners.

Oh.

It was all Brittany could manage at the moment. So maybe it was finally settled, they were friends. Secret friends, but friends, nonetheless.

How's about we officially kick off our secret friendship this weekend?

Involuntarily, Brittany groaned at the thought of another party.

Thanks Santana, but I don't think I want to party. Like ever again.

She swore she could hear Santana rolling her eyes as she read her reply;

I didn't mean a party! I meant a girls night!

Brittany's stomach dropped into a suicide level of drops, and her head swayed.
Girls night? She didn't even know what to do on a girls night!
That, and the fact that she would be alone with Santana- whom was first of all Santana, and her crush on top of that.
Her phone buzzed again, catching her attention- she read it hastily;

I guess you could even invite Lady Hummel. I mean, I do sort of owe him- you said he gave me a ride to your house that one time on my drunken adventure, right? Besides, nothing could be as bad as spending the weekend with Fabitch.

Brittany read the text a couple of times, trying to decide whether she was relieved or disappointed in Santana's invitation for Kurt as well.

I'll ask him,

She finally answered, and then fired a text to Kurt;

Santana wants to know if you would like to join us for a girls night

By the time Kurt answered, she had eaten dinner and got her pyjamas on, preparing to put on a movie in bed.

YOU AND SANTANA ARE HAVING A GIRLS NIGHT?!

Brittany let a puff of air out of her nose; she should have expected this response. That, and she wasn't sure how to explain the reasons of their girls night in general- she was also very aware that she wouldn't be able to beat around the bush with Kurt.

Sort of. Kind of. Maybe. But she would like to invite you because she owes you for driving her to my place when she was drunk that one time.

You expect me to believe that Santana Lopez is trying to turn over a new leaf?

This time she full on sighed before answering.

I don't expect you to believe anything, Kurt. And you don't have to join us if you don't want to. She was just telling me she wouldn't be mean because she owes you, so it was safe for you to join us, if you wanted to. Honestly Kurt, deep, deep down she's not a bad person.

About thirty feet under the ground kind of deep?

About. But really, would you like to join us? I promise she won't be mean.

There was a few minutes silence, before her phone buzzed once again.

Fine. I'll give it a try.

Brittany could imagine the stubborn tone to his voice as she read the text, and smiled.

Thank you, Kurt. I promise you'll have a good time.

This was going to be A) incredible; if Santana manages to let her walls down (consciously or not) in front of Kurt, then, literally everything would be better! If Kurt liked Santana, all her friends could grow to accept her- that was the power of Kurt. And that would be perfect. But then there's always way B) Chaos. If somehow Santana and Kurt got in a squabble, there goes her chances of hanging out with Santana often.
Brittany thought over ways she could make the night go smoothly- without a single hitch. After all, she assumed the girls night (plus a gay) would take place in her humble abode.
Well... Kurt is Kurt... so he would be all over makeup and fashion... and Santana is Santana... which means she would probably equally as interested in fashion and makeup.

She assumed things like self manicures and pedicures; since there was no way Santana would be the kind of person to happily let someone touch her feet- or touch someone else's feet.

And for movies... She could easily peg Santana as some kind of horror film; Saw, or the Amityville Horror... While Kurt was more of a romantic comedy type. Truthfully, she could sit through either- maybe getting nightmares with horror, but she could sit through it. After all, she watches Dead Sight.

Tuesday was good. Santana and her had a brief discussion in Spanish, when Mr. Schue actually told them they needed a partner for a small ten- fifteen lined conversation entirely in Spanish.

"¿Perdone, mi bisexual poco mullido, pero nunca me dijo lo que dijo la señora Hummel sobre esa noche de las señoras?" Santana rolled off fluently.

Brittany stared at her, not comprehnding, blinking, before slowly raising her eyebrows, "What? All I got out of that was bisexual, and Kurt."

Santana leaned in, lowering her voice, "What did Kurt say about that... offer?"

At that moment, Brittany had the strongest urge to brush a stray lock of Santana's air behind her ear. Rubbing her eyes as though she could rub the overwhelming want out of her system, she then clasped her hands firmly on her lap.

"Uh... Yeah. Yeah he said he'd give it a go." Damn. She never knew how much she would miss her glasses- they would occupy her, by pushing them up her nose- because that damn piece of hair was bouncing around as Santana nodded, pleased.

"¡Excelente!"

"Uhh... yeah." Brittany was pretty sure she knew what Santana was saying, but still- this was her weak spot; Spanish.

"You really have no idea what to say, do you?" Santana sat back, smirking.

"What?"

"In Spanish. You really don't get Spanish, verdad?"

She sucked in, "...No."

Lazily, Santana rested her head on her hand, propped up by her elbow.

"Would you like a tutor?"

"...Do you mean, you'd tutor me?"

"You tutored me." Santana shrugged, and pulled her hair in a high ponytail; finally getting rid of that pesky lock of hair that needed adjustment, "It'd be easy," She went on, "We could start this weekend. And it would be an excuse."

Brittany bit her lip; she knew the answer was already yes- but still, she had to let it sink in a minute. This friendly banter (Although kept at a very low volume) still felt extremely alien. After all, the last four years of her life Santana was nothing but crap- but that was before she really knewher...

"Sure." She finally answered, "But won't Quinn and the others be... suspicious?"

Santana cocked her head to the side like an innocent puppy, but her expression was less puppy-like; her eyebrows popped up, almost a mix between defiance and amusement, and her lips pulled up and a brief smile.

"Usted dice que le gusta hay de algo para sospechar sobre." The girl crooned superiorly.

Brittany blinked, and mirrored Santana's cocked head; "Huh?"

This time Santana really did smile as she translated, "You say that like there's something to be suspicious about." Instantaneously, a blush crept to her cheeks and she looked down; once again, she'd managed to make things sound awkward.
Nice going!
"I... I didn't..." Brittany stuttered over her own thoughts.

"By the way- 'I didn't' in Spanish is 'no me gustó." Santana nonchalantly cracked her knuckles.

"Uhm... That's a bad habit." She hastily tried to change the topic. Santana looked at her, amusement once again written clearly on the features of her face, "So is biting your nails." She retorted.

"You... know I bite my nails?"

"Obviously."

After that, the two of them made a very short script of ten lines exactly. Although, her lines were mostly one word lines.
Still, they passed the assignment- even if it was just barely.
Comic Book Club was fun, as usual- even if it was completely uneventful. Being around her friends just made it a good time.

Wednesday was... chaotic, more or less. Apparently there was some kind of pushing between Coach Sue and Principal Figgins, as he announced for (Say it ain't so!) the second time since school started the suspension of the Cheerios practices. Coach Sue was furious; Brittany had simply been walking to class, Tina down the hall a bit, when Sue decided to shove her into a locker while yelling something about 'the damn Glee kids!'.
This, naturally, caused the Cheerios alarm; breaking down in the hallways, mood swings- using anything in sight as a punching bag...
Even Santana was irritable.
Thursday... well, it was like a trip of deja-vu to the last time the cheerleading practices were suspended. Oh well, it was a world without slushies at least.
She took a chance in Spanish, double checking to see if it were going to be a Friday or Saturday thing. Honestly, it would probably be a lot safer to ask this over text message, due to the emotionally inbalanced states of the Cheerios; but Brittany had a very irrational need to test a wonder she had; would Santana be able to snap at her to her face?

"Hey," She said very quietly, poking Santana's shoulder as the class chatted, seeming Mr. Schue was MIA.

The dark haired girl turned in her seat, a guarded expression on her face; "Yes?" She didn't sound like she wanted to snap.

"Uh... So I was wondering, would it be Friday or Saturday- and it is at my house, right?" As usual, Brittany kept her voice at a low whisper, trying not to draw attention to their converstaion by any other members of the Spanish class.

"Yes. And Friday."

She nodded, and Santana turned around again.

Friday rolled around, and Kurt met her in front of the school- there was no need to be discreet, with the Cheerios out of... well... just out if it in general.
"So, that... it's tonight, right?" The boy cocked his head, curious.

"Mmm hmm." She hummed, eyeing the boy to her right suspiciously, as he was carrying a red slushie in one of his hands.

"So... I can drive us? Dad gave me my car back, he finally got over my secret tiara collection."

"Yeah. Sounds good." Brittany was still watching the boy closely. He wouldn't... would he? Even with the possibility of a dozen or so crazed teenage girls lusting for his blood if he dare toss the drink?
She audibly sighed when she finally saw him take one last final gulp and toss it in the trash.
The day went on, with no sign of Santana until the transition of first and second period;
"Hey, Spanish Partner." Santana said as she drifted up to her locker; in the back of Brittany's head, she was very appreciative that Santana wasn't one of those Cheerios that were so hysteric and depressed that they decided not to change from their uniform. Because seeing her hair down and in normal clothes was completely delicious to the eyes- no matter how hard she tried not to ogle.

"Hi," She tried to greet back nonchalantly, as she grabbed the books from her locker that she needed for next class.

"So, I was wondering..."

"Kurt can drive us." Brittany butt in, having the feeling that that was what the girl was going to ask.

"Oh. Ok." Santana smirked, "I will see you after school," She leaned in and whispered, "when we kick off our secret friendship."

"Alright." Her stomach fluttered, and the two parted ways.

Brittany's head was a ridiculous mess of excitement the rest of the day; she couldn't even remember what Sam and her talked about earlier, because she wasn't paying attention. Brittany was also infinitely glad, that since Dead Sight came out as a TV show, Comic Book Club had cancelled it's Friday meetings.
The bell for the end of the day rung, and it took everything in her not to run all the way to her locker. She practically tossed her books in, yanked her hoodie over her head, and ran to meet Kurt out by his car. Mid-November was cold, in all truth, she should be wearing a coat, but hadn't felt like it yet- because it had yet to snow.

Kurt was leaning against his car, wearing another one of his impressively stylish 'mens' (Cough cough... right... mens) coats.

"Where's Satan?" He asked, sounding bored and verging on impatient- Kurt was never one for cold weather.

"Kurt," She scolded softly, "If she's going to be nice to you, you have to be nice to her."

He just made a small snort.

"Anyways," She went on, "I don't know. Just look for a Spanish girl in a red long-sleeve." Brittany told him, recalling what she had seen Santana wearing earlier. It really was a nice top- very basic, a boldly red top with a small V. It was probably something she would have worn in the sixth grade, honestly, but Santana filled it out well, it hugged her... ahh... well, yeah. It hugged her well.
She and Kurt both went on a game of Eye-Spy for her, making a bet for ten bucks to whomever spotted her first.

"Oh! Found her!" Kurt gushed triumphantly, pointing to the west of the parking lot, where Santana was making her way over to the car. She looked the same as she had seen her earlier, red top, dark, tight jeans, although she had added an equally red beanie on top of her perfect dark hair.
Nice, Lopez. You've managed to become more perfect. Where is your trophy?
The parking lot was basically empty, besides the few couple stragglers; but all the jocks and Cheerios had gone home- so Santana came straight over to us.

"Damn Lad-" Santana started, eyeing his car impressively, before Brittany gave her a light nudge. Lady Hummel wouldn't do tonight.
The girl froze mid sentence, cleared her throat and restarted; "How'd you manage such an awesome car?"

"Well," Kurt fixed his hair, "I'm sure you know my dad works at the auto repair shop- so he always fixes up this guy, Bruce's car. Bruce sold my dad this for fifty percent off."

"Impressive! Too bad I can't remember the last time I was in it."
Britany was at a complete awe. She didn't really know what to expect- but not friendly, nonchalant banter this... easily.

Kurt smiled, "Yeah. Let's all hop in now, though- I want to get out of this weather."

"I second that!"

"Yeah." Honestly, she just wanted to sit back and watch her friends chat, to see how this will play out.

However, Santana refused to take the passenger seat and climbed in the back, tossing the red Cheerios bag which she still used for her books and binders to the opposite pole of the back.
The three of them went off in Kurt's shiny black car in silence. The longer the silence stayed, the more tension pulled in the air.

"So..." She finally said, turning to face Santana, "What happened with Coach Sue and Figgins this time?"

Santana rolled her eyes, "I don't know- something about Glee club or something..."

"Oh! I actually know!" Kurt piped up, "Figgins cut the salary a bit for costumes, with sectionals coming up and all. He's just suspending the Cheerios whenever Coach Sue starts going on a rampage on school grounds. Mr. Schue told us."

"Cool-" Brittany beamed, although she wasn't in Glee club, she enjoyed hearing what songs they were going to do whenever an event came up- "What are you guys going to do this year?"

"Well..." Kurt sighed, taking a corner, "Rachel is going to be doing a Celine Dion solo- what else is new, and Mr. Schue has managed to scrape up a few Journey songs we haven't already done."

The pace was great throughout the night. To Brittany's delight, she hadn't had to pull Santana off of Kurt- or vice versa. Here it was, nearly eleven thirty at night; Kurt had dozed off about forty five minutes ago when they had started another one of the Pirates of the Caribbean movies in her room. Santana and herself lay wrapped up in the blankets on the floor- she felt like she could fall asleep, but frankly, she didn't want to. Santana was still wide awake, quietly munching on their steadily decreasing supply of popcorn, eyes glued to the television.
Brittany yawned, and curled into a ball, still trying her hardest to stay awake and alert to the movie. But was still beginning to drift off, until,

"Tired?" Santana asked; and it swung Brittany back to the present.

"What? No." She scoffed lightly, reaching out for the popcorn bowl.

"Bored?" The girl guessed again, propping herself up on one elbow, while she used her other hand to pick at a loose string in the blanket from the spare room.

"No. Just felt like yawning."

Santana quirked her eyebrows, "You are the worst liar ever."

Brittany couldn't help but grin a little- it was true, and she'd heard it several times before from a variety of different people.

"Ok. Maybe a little tired."

Kurt stirred on her bed- crap- had they woken him? Oh, she hoped not- she'd feel so bad about disrupting his sleep, mostly because she knew how irritated she would be if it were the other way around.
Brittany craned her neck to catch a glimpse of him on the bed, but saw nothing to indicate he had actually woken.
That's right, Kurt sleeps like he's in a coma.

She heard a murmur, and looked to Santana;
"What?" She whispered back, "I'm sorry, I didn't hear..."

The Latina combed her hand through her dark hair and leaned in so she could hear what she had to say more clearly; "I asked you what the sleeping arrangements are."
She ushered back, and Brittany thought she could ever so faintly, feel Santana's breath their heads were so close.

"What do you mean?" Brittany inquired dumbly, not understanding the question Santana was asking.

"Well, Lady Hum-"

She shot Santana a scolding look and once again, the other girl backtracked, "Kurt. Obviously Kurt has taken the bed."
Once again, she glanced at the sleeping boy.

"I can sleep with him," Brittany murmurred, "You can take the spare room."

Santana thought over, giving off a couple of tiny nods as though she were having an inner dialogue.

"If you want." Santana said, biting her lip and smirking, "But it'll be really awkward if he wakes up with morning wood."

She was instantly appalled with the thought; Kurt- waking up with a... a boner?! It seemed so unrealistic. Kurt, who always seemed to avoid any kind of sexual feelings or talks, waking up being aroused. It seemed far fetched, but, Kurt was still a boy- no matter what orientation.
So that made the prospect of 'morning wood' a lot more... possible. There was always that possibility.
Shuddering, she said- although still making sure to whisper, "Ew, gross! But I mean, I've slept in the same bed as him before and its never happened."

Santana was clearly stiffling a giggle as she replied, "Well it's in due time, then, isn't it?"

She swallowed thickly, running over that idea in her sleep cloudy brain.

"Alright, then the floor it is." Brittany sighed- she didn't really mind, she was actually incredibly comfortable on the floor wrapped in a cocoon of blankets.

"What? Don't be ridiculous, you can't sleep on the floor!"

"Oh, no- don't worry. I'm comfy."

"Yeah, but it's not a bed."

"Well, if I need to change my mind I can crawl up there with Kurt. If I see his morning wood... then... sucks to be me."

There was silence for a few moments, and she glanced back at Santana, who was chewing her lip, staring off into space.

"Tired?" She mimicked the girls earlier question.

"Just... thinking."

More hush, besides the soft voices of Johnny Depp and the other chracters on screen with the sound on low.

"Why don't you sleep in the spare bed with me?" Santana offered, settling down on the ground and staring into her eyes. Brittany felt a little breathless, seeing Santana there, laying in front of her, her dark hair splayed around messily.

"Oh, you don't have to do that, thanks."

"C'mon, it's not weird or anything." Santana shrugged, "I mean, we both slept in your bed last weekend."

"That was different," She said through another yawn, "We were drunk."

"So?" Santana shrugged again, and caught a yawn herself, "I insist."

Brittany nestled a little deeper into her cocoon of blankets, as if to prove how comfortable it really was on the floor. Santana didn't budge.

"Brittany, I will lift you if I have to- I won't let you sleep on the floor, no matter how stubborn you are."

She grunted, not knowing how to respond any other way. It was difficult keeping her eyes open, and she was actually quite content here on the floor.

Santana giggled lightly, and next thing she knew, the girls arms were slipping around her shoulders and wasit, as she coaxed Brittany into a proper position for being carried.

"No, you won't be able to lift me." She protested sleepily.

"You underestimate my power." Santana retorted playfully, "Besides, you're tiny. I could lift you without even really trying."
And to Brittany's own surprise, Santana did, and she carried her all the way to the spare bedroom. Not that it was far.
But still.

"Now, you stay on the bed, I'm getting the blankets." Santana ordered firmly, left, and returned with a handful of blankets, which she plunked on the bed, and made just as quickly.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Santana commented with playful sarcasm.

"Yes." She replied sleepily- but with just as much playfulness in her tone. Santana said she was stubborn- fine, she'd be stubborn.

"Oh, shut up." Santana chuckled, and gave her a light nudge.

It was at that moment, she remembered something; it jumped at her without any caution, and it was enough to wake her up so much as a energy drink.

"Hey... Santana..." She didn't even say it like a question, just a thoughtful- shocked, statement.

"Hmm?" Santana hummed, clearly unaware of her tone.

Brittany self consciously rolled herself into a ball, and lowered her eyes from the Latina in front of her to the pillows, "We kissed, didn't we?"

One Mississippi... Two Mississippi... Five Mississippi... Twelve Mississippi... Nineteen Mississippi...

"Yeah. We did."

Brittany chewed her lip, nervous, she wanted to inch away from Santana, but something held her there.

"Because you said you..." She trailed off. She didn't even want to say it- not because she didn't like that fact, but because she felt like it would sound like a lie in her own lips, her own words.
Beside her, the girl took a small breath. She seemed at just a loss for words as Brittany was.

"And you meant it?" It was barely a sound at all.

One Mississippi... Two Mississippi... Thirteen Mississippi... Twenty One Mississippi... Thirty Mississippi... Thirty Four Mississippi...

"Yeah."

"You...?" She still couldn't raise her eyes to meet Santana.

"Are gay? No. Bi? No. I don't know what I am."

"That's ok." She assured quickly, "It shouldn't matter, really. You're still human, that's what counts. You're just like any other person if someone took a look inside of you. Same heart... stomach... blood."

Forty seven Mississippi...

"That's what counts." Santana echoed, not sounding completely reassured.

"Yeah. You're still you."

"Am I?" There was a hint of challenge in Santana's voice.

This time, Brittany forced herself to look at Santana, "You are. You're still you, I promise- you're still everything that you are, just with a new side."

"A new side?" Her eyes narrowed. Defensive.

"It's what you make of it, Santana," She was determined to keep her calm, "Let it ride out- your confusion. That's what you called it, right? If it evaporates, than good. If it doesn't, fine. That's for you to decide, accept- if it doesn't fade. It's a process, Santana. It's nothing to be afraid of."

The girl bit her lip, and blinked a couple times as her voice wavered, "But I am kind of afraid."

There it was again; the irritating sensation to reach over and stroke her hair, soothe her. But she restrained herself.

"Don't be. Look," Growing a little braver she sidled a bit closer to Santana, "Don't at all think I'm assuming you anything. I'm just saying... If you don't know how you feel about things- it's ok to keep it a secret. Give it time. No one is saying you have to do anything, especially when you don't want people knowing. We can keep it between you and I- your confusion. It's a secret. I know it's probably a tough one; not being sure. So leave it be until you know for sure, and then you can make decisions."
Damn. She was never good with words.

Fifty one Mississippi...

Santana was silent for so long- so long, that a fear welled up that she had offended her, when that was the complete opposite of what she was trying to do. Brittany hastily prepared an apology in her head,

"Do-"

Santana cut her off, "Thank you." It was a whisper with so much emotion. Sadness. Hope. Sincerity. Trust.
The other girl reached over, and ran her hand through Brittany's hair gently, "Thank you so much."

She swallowed thickly, and tried to crack a joke to loosen the mood, yet keeping it completely serious, "Hey, speaking from first hand experiences, it's no problem. I don't judge- or even care- because you're still you. That's all that matters to me about people."

Santana smiled, still, a smile full of all the emotion in her voice; she pulled Brittany closer and wrapped her arms around her in a tight embrace. A hug.
Brittany hugged back willingly, and stroked the back of Santana's head as all restraint crumbled away into little pieces.
Into her shoulder, Santana laughed, and then sniffed.
"You know," She said, her voice thick with tears, "I do still like you."

Sanity might have crumbled away too.

"Yeah, I like you too."

"You're so much better than what people treat you for. You don't deserve that."

"No one does. But," She smiled, although Santana's face was still in her shoulder, "You aren't that bad yourself, you know? Once you take down your bitchy facade- saying that in the most friendly way possible."

Santana laughed again, "It's a compliment."

"It was supposed to be."

Santana pulled away, grinning, as she wiped her eyes on the back of her hands, "I don't even know what I'm crying for." She mumbled, and giggled at herself some more.

"Relief?" She suggested, smiling as she watched the girl.

"Maybe."

Suddenly feeling tired again, Brittany lay down, resting her head on the soft pillows- some time during the conversation she had sat up, although she couldn't recall when.
Santana sighed and did the same, her hand reaching out and resting on Brittany's arm, tracing patterns.

"Thank you." She repeated, "It means so much."

Brittany smiled at the roof, "You're not alone."

Slowly, ever so slowly, Santana sidled up beside her, wrapping her arms around Brittany, clinging like a lifeline of hope- but in a gentle way.
Lips brushed her shoulder for a quick but firm moment.

"Goodnight, Britt."

"Goodnight, San."