Chapter 21: Walls
It's possible that the last time you've cleaned this much was when you were 12 years old and your abuela threw a Christmas party for her church friends. You can only grimace at the thought, still remembering how it felt watching her cursed white glove sliding along whichever surface she was checking.
It's safe to say it was great training though, since your apartment looks immaculate right now. You made sure to secure your larger furniture; the tv, bookshelf, dresser. You checked the locks on all your windows and you think they seem secure enough, though you're not entirely sure how smart Brittany's cat is. And lastly, you got rid of all the alcohol in the house. You originally were going to just hide it really well seeing as it's only two days but you figured it's probably better to just toss them completely.
So now you're just pacing back and forth through your living room waiting for Brittany to arrive.
It's the first time you'll be alone with her, in your own apartment no less, and you don't even have liquid courage to get you through it.
The intercom buzzes and you rush to check your reflection one last time before letting her up. The wait for the sound of a knock feels agonizingly slow. So slow that you end up just opening your door and waiting there until she walks up.
When she comes into view she sees you waiting and her eyes light up.
"I didn't want you to get lost." You offer with a shrug and she hums softly in response, smiling as she squeezes past you and into your apartment.
She puts her purse down and turns in place, looking around the room. And you, you can't stop looking at her.
"You cleaned." She states, moving further in as she continues her inspection.
"I didn't do much." You lie, knowing full well that you spent that last five hours deep cleaning a 600 square foot apartment. You can't tell her that though, five hours is obviously more time than necessary and that in itself is telling.
At that she finally looks at you, a small smile playing at her lips, like she knows but won't make you actually voice it. Instead, she simply says, "I think it's cute that you cleaned."
Her inspection doesn't last long and you subtly exhale when she glides past your bedroom door and she doesn't ask to see inside. It's not messy, obviously, so you're not worried about that, but still. It's your bedroom. It's the only space you have left that's just yours, sacred.
When you tell her you got rid of all the alcohol in the house, she looks at you like you're every wrong choice made right. You can't help but shift under her gaze and she knows you're reaching your tipping point, it's all too much and she's far too close, so she breaks eye contact, letting you breathe easy.
"I brought his food and his favorite bowls." She says, breaking you from your thoughts as she begins pulling items out of her bag, "I do have to warn you though, he can be quite difficult at times."
You inhale and exhale on shrug, "I'm sure I'll be fine."
She nods, and looks back at you with questioning eyes, "I'm kind of surprised you didn't invite Rachel or Kurt over for this. I figured you would want a buffer."
"I tried but they were busy." You try to laugh but she frowns a little, "Sorry."
"I know we only text here and there but I really thought we'd be past this whole awkward conversation thing."
"No, I know. I'm sorry."
"Can we just sit?" She motions to the couch, "I promise no funny business."
No funny business. You've heard that before.
"I just want to talk, Santana. We haven't really done that yet."
You relent, and move with her to your couch. It's large enough that you can sit with ample space between you and you bring your feet up, facing each other.
"How have you been? Honestly." She starts and you take a deep breath, "I don't want to push you so if you don't want to talk about it then I'll understand."
"I don't really know how to answer that, Britt."
"I'll start then." She shifts slightly, "I'm not gonna lie, it was really hard getting over you."
Past tense. You look away, jaw clenched.
"But that doesn't mean I don't care for you anymore."
Now is the time, you think. If there's any part of you that wants to try this again you have a chance to tell her right now. "Britt, I-" You shake your head, deciding against telling her you think you have feelings for her. It's still too much. You're still too scared.
"Don't do that." She pleads and you look at her, "Don't hide from me."
"I'm not."
"Santana, look at how you're sitting." She motions to your legs like it's obvious, "You've literally put up a barrier between us."
You shrug, "It's comfortable."
"Please, just talk to me."
"Britt, stop." You exhale, moving to stand, "It's too much."
She quickly grabs your hand, stopping you, "Do I really scare you that much?"
"What?" You stutter a little but she holds you there.
"I do, don't I?" Brittany continues, she looks just as vulnerable as you probably do.
You can only nod and sit back down.
"I know I haven't earned your trust yet, but just know that I'm not letting you get away this time." Her voice is firm and her eyes are steady. Much more steady than you ever remember seeing before.
Your heart leaps out of your chest at the sight. Is she saying what you think she's saying? She's pushing the boundaries again but surprisingly you don't feel uncomfortable about it. You feel almost excited by it. It feels like… progress.
But progress is never linear and just like that, your fears finally make their entrance. The insecurities and anxieties about the unknown come forward from the depths of your mind and it paralyzes you again. You want to look past it but everything is hitting so much harder now for some reason. It's like allowing yourself to feel even a little bit hopeful, you've also opened yourself up to being even more doubtful.
"Santana," Brittany catches your attention. The way she looks at you both pulls you in and holds you at a distance, "I just need to know there's a chance. I don't care how small."
"What happened to keeping things friendly?" You ask wryly, already knowing that things have never been or never will be just friendly with Brittany. There's no chance of any other direction but towards when it comes to her.
"We can still be friends. For now. But like… with benefits." She blushes, smiling, "Or like, friends with soft benefits."
The suggestion is mildly ridiculous and your eyebrows knit together carefully as you try to wrap your mind around it. But it's downright silly and it makes you laugh so you're grateful for the ease in tension. "Britt, what does that even mean?"
She breathes out a soft giggle on an exhale and shakes her head, "I don't know, it just came to me." When you look at her again she holds your eyes carefully, "I just really don't want that door to close for us. Not without a fight."
This time it's your turn to shake your head, "How can you be sure it won't end badly again?" Your voice surprises you, not understanding how you let that question slip past.
"I'm not." She answers, quick to avert her eyes when you think you might have caught a hint of caution but you can't be sure. "But that doesn't mean we shouldn't at least try, San."
The air grows heavy again and you wish, more than anything, that she just rip the band-aid off. Take it upon herself to break through your walls herself. Duck under the caution tape. Take a chainsaw to the roots of hesitation. She could do it easily if she tried. If she only knew it was welcome. Anything would be easier than you having to admit that you're willing to try too. "Britt…"
"Look, I'm not saying right this second but maybe in the future? Honestly, I don't even think I'm ready just yet, either. But," she pauses, eyes finding yours again and it's back to being steady. "I think I'm getting there."
"You are?" You ask, surprised at her confession.
It's obvious she reads your shock for what it is and she's already deflating at the sight, "Aren't you?"
"I… I don't know." Your own walls betray you.
"Oh." She looks down, slightly dejected and you instantly feel guilty. You don't know why you said that. You hate that you said that.
"Wait, that's not- it's not you…" You try to say but she shakes her head again.
"No, I get it. You don't have to explain. You're being careful. Careful Santana." She says softly, her tone laced with a little bit of sadness behind it, "I don't know what else I can do to show you how sorry I am."
"Britt, that's not-" You start to shake your head, not understanding what she means but she stands, suddenly cutting you off.
"I should go. You're probably busy." She says.
You feel like shit. You feel like you hurt her in some way and you need to make it right before she leaves thinking you don't have feelings for her.
And though it was uncomfortable and awkward, it was still a good starting point. You both needed to address the elephant in the room at some point and it's a good thing you did. Even though it was a train wreck of a conversation at least now you now know where she stands. Or where she sort of stands. It's only fair she knows how you feel too.
"Wait," You stop her before she can say goodbye, "Look, I know I can be really difficult and confusing at times, but don't count me out just yet, okay?"
Slowly, a smile pulls at her lips and she nods.
"Goodbye, Britt."
"Bye, San."
Nothing could have prepared you for watching Lord Tubbington. You know he's just an animal, but sometimes you almost can see why Brittany says the things she says about him. It wasn't even 10 minutes after she dropped him off that he found his way into your highest cabinet. The very same cabinet that you had originally hid your alcohol in.
When you jokingly told Brittany about it she immediately called you on FaceTime and scolded him for being naughty. You have to admit it was probably the cutest thing you've seen in your life and you kind of almost wish you recorded it.
From then on you watched him like a hawk. Which wasn't too bad since you were off both days and it gave you the perfect excuse to not leave the house.
You also found out that Brittany is a nervous cat mom. She's called you on FaceTime more times than Lord Tubbington is even awake but you don't mind it. Not if that means you can see her and talk to her, even if you have to lie on the floor just so she can see him and you together.
She even had you prop up your phone on the counter while she walked you through preparing his meals. Which, if you're being honest, was way more than a single cat should be eating.
You also caved and opened your bedroom door at night to let him sleep in bed with you. You couldn't lock him out because you felt so bad. Brittany warned you though that he's a bed hog and boy was she right. But the plus side was that you could FaceTime Brittany every night in bed.
You can't help but feel how you feel now. Something tells you it's always been inevitable. There's no force on earth that could stop you from falling. Every time she comes into view you can't help but smile. She has to know the effect she has on you by now. The conversations don't get too heavy either and you don't talk about your relationship past what was discussed on your couch the other day.
You talk about her day, and what mischief her cat's been up to. On the last night you talked and laughed together for so long that LT actually got up from his side of your bed to lie on top of you and started crying until you eventually hung up. It made you blush and you sent Brittany a goodnight text to apologize for keeping her up so late.
She didn't seem to mind though. She asked if she could bring over some stuff the next day to cook you something as a thank you.
You already know better than to fight her on it so you agree.
The next morning you wake up early enough to get some cleaning done before Brittany arrives. Since the last time you deep cleaned was only a few days ago, it doesn't take too much effort.
By the time she's buzzing up to your apartment, your nerves have kicked in again. Though this time you can at least breathe a little easier.
You wait by your open door again, and when you see her carrying a bunch of grocery bags, you move to help her.
"You didn't have to buy all of this." You tell her when you glance inside, "I'm pretty sure I have most of this stuff already."
"I was too scared to ask." Brittany ducks her head, "Plus I didn't want you to know what I was making."
You raise an eyebrow and look inside the bags again. Flour. Eggs. And the one item that seals the deal, blueberries.
"Wait, seriously?" You look at her with wide eyes and she chuckles, "Don't mess with me, Pierce. Are you seriously gonna make me blueberry breakfast cupcakes?"
She laughs fully at that and shakes her head, "You still call them that?"
"It's what they are."
Her eyes light up and you can't help but smile back at her.
"Well, hopefully you still like the ones I make. I haven't changed the recipe and I don't know how many blueberry muffins you've had since mine."
"Brittany, I can assure you that your muffins are the only life-changing ones I've ever tasted. Nothing else comes close."
She quirks an eyebrow at your words and you flush a deep red as soon as you realize it. Wanky.
You clear your throat, "So anyways, what do you need?" You ask, turning away and begin going through your cabinets, pulling out bowls and containers, anything really.
"Just one bowl is fine, Santana." She chuckles lightly and proceeds to help you put everything back.
Before getting started, she spends a few minutes greeting Lord Tubbs and you stand nearby to watch the exchange. It's as adorable as expected and you look questioningly at her when she starts whispering to him as if in quiet conversation. Once she's done, he goes back into your room and makes himself comfortable on your bed. This time, you've left your door open, bedroom on full display.
"You didn't have to let him sleep up there. He's already spoiled enough." She tells you as she walks away from the opening, "Now he's going to cry all night if I don't give him enough space on my bed."
"He's actually pretty comfortable to sleep with." You shrug, "If you don't mind the neck pains in the morning."
She looks at you apologetically, "I really wish you would just let me pay you for the trouble."
"No, it was my pleasure." You shake your head, "But just to be clear, you are in fact making blueberry muffins, right?"
She laughs, "Not just me." She smiles, pulling out two aprons. "You're gonna help."
When you look at the aprons you smile at her, "I'm the muffin man?"
She laughs, "That one's mine, obviously. I didn't have another one though so I went and bought one for you."
Brittany moves to put it on you, the action so quick that you don't even have time to register her closeness before it's over. She steps back easily and you gleam up at her once it's all tied up, "How do I look?"
She pokes at where it says, I 'heart' muffins, and smiles, "You look perfect."
For the most part Brittany takes charge, measuring out all the ingredients and you're just the designated batter stirrer. She's very meticulous and precise and at one point you almost spilled half the batter because you were too distracted looking at the little bit of flour on her nose and debating with yourself if you should wipe it off or just tell her.
"So you just know all of this from memory?" You ask as she starts washing the blueberries, popping one into her mouth.
"Mhm." She nods, holding a blueberry out for you to take. "I've made these so many times now it's impossible to forget. When I made the recipe back then I must've gone through maybe five other recipes. Then I just played around with it until I was satisfied."
"You didn't have to do that, you know."
"Yeah I did." She laughs as if it's obvious, "You told me you've never had a blueberry muffin before. I needed to make sure you had a really good one for your first one."
"Well, you definitely delivered. I literally can't eat any other muffin now because of it."
Brittany blushes, ducking her head a little, "I know you're joking but that was really sweet."
"No, I'm serious." You catch her eyes so that she knows you're telling the truth, "Nothing else compares."
Her smile grows, as if she's been holding it back all this time and you give yourself a mental high-five. Nothing brings you greater joy than to bring Brittany to a bashful smile that she can't contain if she wanted to.
"I think about you." She says, suddenly breaking eye contact as she pours the blueberries into the mix. "Whenever I make these, I think about you."
Your stirring slows and you watch her as she thinks of the right words to say. Her eyebrows now knitted, unsure.
"I think that's probably why I know the recipe by heart now." She looks up finally and your hand comes to a stop when you see a hint of sadness behind her eyes, "I didn't want to forget you."
You don't know how to respond so you don't. You're just stuck there in a deadlock at her confession. She's stepping out of bounds again.
She looks away, "I know that one was definitely too much but I had to say it."
Heat rises on the back of your neck and you force yourself to take a steadying breath before resuming your stirring. It pains you to think about what she must've felt the first time she made them again. You try not to think about the idea of her baking these alone in her empty kitchen and crying to herself. Stirring her emotions into every batch in an attempt to solidify whatever memories she could still grab hold of.
You shake your head at the thought and a seed of guilt is planted. You want to confess. You want to tell her how you've been feeling but something about this doesn't quite feel right and you can't place your finger on it yet.
Thankfully, she clears her throat quickly and flashes you a gentle smile. You throw her one back, happy to move this intense conversation along.
Once the muffins are safe and sound inside the oven you start to clean up a little. Brittany helps you of course, even if you told her not to. You work together in tandem, hardly having to say anything and before you know it the counters are cleaned and the dishes are washed.
Glancing at the oven you see there's still about 20 minutes left on the timer so you move silently to the couch. Brittany gets the hint and joins you. As soon as she sits, you both hear a loud mewl followed by the sight of LT trotting out of your bedroom.
He stops in front of you both, seemingly deciding on which human to jump towards before he ultimately decides on his owner. Brittany smiles as she pets him, allowing him to curl up beside her.
"He really likes it here." She says, almost in a whisper, "I'm glad he likes you."
It's a telling admission and you have to actively hold off a blush, trying not to let the ridiculous notion of how much weight lies in the approval of a homeless, addict, cat. Even if, admittedly, you too like the company of said cat.
"He wouldn't have if I still had my neighbor from when I first moved in." You say in an attempt at some levity, "He blasted The Smiths non-stop. Once it was so depressing I even considered calling the cops to send a welfare check on him."
Brittany throws her head back in laughter, like an inside joke you're not yet aware of. Her head lolls to the side and her eyes find yours, a grin pulling at the corner of her mouth, "Actually, Tubbs loves The Smiths."
It takes all of you to not immediately call bullshit because surely she's fucking with you. She must be. Your eyes narrow when her grin doesn't budge but her eyebrow does raise slightly to challenge you.
"What's his favorite song?" You counter, already knowing it won't matter what she replies with. She could name a Katy Perry song and it'd still suck you in.
But her grin only grows, head picking up from the back of the couch. "You don't believe me." It's not a question but a statement. Playful, like she's considering where you'll step next.
"I'll open spotify right now if I have to."
"Do it." She reaches her hand out as if calling your bluff, "If you're willing to play through their entire discography until he's satisfied. He's very attached to their music."
Your eyes narrow again and her expression changes to a full-on smirk now. She's obviously winning and she knows it. Not willing to risk having to listen through hours and hours of The Smiths, you relent, releasing a huff of air, and shake your head fondly at her. "Your poker face has gotten a lot better."
"Not a poker face." She beams, clearly pleased with herself, "Cuz, I'm not lying."
"Well, you're probably right, then. If there's anything I've learned in the past three days," You say with a laugh and a soft poke to the top of LT's head, "It's that your weird cat-not-cat might actually be capable of anything."
It's not quite the admission of defeat she was hoping for but she seems to accept it with a smile regardless. If anything she scrunches her face a little, probably at the cat-not-cat comment, but she ultimately lets it go.
"Girlfriend in a Coma." Brittany finally says after a minute, "That's his favorite Smiths song."
It takes a few seconds for it to come to you, "Somehow, that makes perfect sense…"
The lightest of giggles escapes her lips as she carefully moves to hold LT's head up tenderly, "Leave my baby alone. He just has lots of feelings."
You regard her and her 'baby' quietly, as if you're suddenly intruding. The moment for banter passes as the minutes move on easily and her hands resume petting his fur. Every so often you allow yourself a few quick glances between LT and Brittany, not knowing what to do with yourself now. But, in the same sense, watching the two of them is kind of almost calming. The memory returns of when she told you years ago that she considered adopting a pet for company but was worried she wouldn't have the time to properly care for one between teaching and church.
Now that she has one, you can't help but feel how well it suits her. Obviously with LT as a pet she has to have the neverending amounts of patience but she's still so caring and gentle. The fact that she literally inspected your place prior to even bringing him is proof of how much she loves him.
Your train of thought pulls you toward the conversation you had that day. How she confronted you so directly. She was so bold, even letting it slip how hard it was after you left her. And then again today, that flash of sadness in her eyes replays in your mind. Suddenly, that seed of guilt takes root and a revelation dawns on you.
Brittany must've noticed the shift because she looks at you, nervous, "Is something wrong?"
Your heartbeat quickens as you consider your options, not knowing if you want to open those particular doors. You don't know if you're ready to face whatever is behind them. But Brittany is sitting right there looking at you and you know in your heart that you have to do this. She deserves at least this from you.
So you take a deep breath.
"I just realized..." You start and her attention locks in, "I never… I-I haven't apologized to you yet." It takes a beat but her eyes flicker in a moment of realization of what you're trying to say. You continue, "You've already told me how sorry you are for what happened but I haven't yet said it back."
Her eyes widen slightly as if she wasn't prepared for this. Then, in the slightest of shifts, you see her jaw clench. The action surprises you, not knowing how to read it until her eyes turn almost cold. "There's nothing for you to apologize for. What I did… what happened was on me, Santana." She says firmly, as if practiced. She shifts again, leaning ever so slightly away, bracing herself against the side of the couch.
She did the action so easily, so casually that it would've been subtle to anyone else. Maybe you only catch it because you've let your guard down, no distractions or liquid courage, you can actually see her so clearly now and you feel ashamed that you're only picking up on it now. She's holding it all at bay, like everything is at stake. This coldness, this steel, everything about this is so unlike her. You know you have no right to push for more honesty from her but watching her retreat into herself is something you never want to witness. So you don't ease up.
"It's okay to be upset with me, you know." You try to reason but catch the way her hands find the hem of her shirt. "I left. I didn't even think, I-I didn't… fight." The more you talk the more you start to realize. Every text, every word. The way you left her on read until you sent that final message where you were sure you broke her heart all over again. "You tried so hard but I just… I didn't even give you a chance. "
"I don't see it that way." She shakes her head, shifting again, this time to bring her knees up to hug them. "You trusted me and I promised-" Her breath catches, "W-what I did-" She closes her eyes, "I wouldn't blame you if you hated me. I was no better than-"
She cuts herself off but you can still hear the rest. Your ex. Your family. Your church. Ohio.
"How can you say that?" Your voice is louder now and you know that doesn't help but you're still too shocked. You can't believe this. You didn't know it was this bad. How could you have missed this? How did you not see it? Has she really resigned to blaming solely herself for all of this heartache? "Brittany… you're not being fair to yourself." You shake your head, "Everything came crashing down on you and I… I just left."
"Please." She says, almost whispering. "You don't have to do this, I don't blame you for any-"
"You should've hated me." You interrupt. As hurt as you were these past two years, you know now it must've been worse for her. All you know is running away and she's so much stronger than you ever will be. But seeing her like this, taking the entire burden by herself, it's not right. Your eyes start stinging and it takes everything in you to hold the tears back, "I-I was a coward. I ran away and left you alone at the worst possible time." Your voice betrays you as it cracks but you force yourself to finish, "You had to deal with the fallout all on your own. The church, the school, your parents…god, Britt, your parents."
At that Brittany loses more of her composure and a soft shaking breath escapes her lips. She does her best to conceal it by tucking her head into her knees and you can only watch as the first tear finally burns a path down her cheek. She tries and fails to wipe it away quickly but it's too late. The tears keep falling. It's a losing battle and her hand moves to cover her mouth softly to muffle a choked sob. The other gripping her knee tightly.
"I'm sorry." You try to tell her. Your heart breaks at the sight before you. She's held it in for so long, you think. Did she not confide in anyone? You're not one to talk, seeing as you didn't either. But doing so left you so bitter and yet there was never even a hint of resentment in Brittany. The moment you first saw her standing in front of you again you knew there was nothing but hope in her eyes. She seemed so at peace with everything. For so long the last memory she had of you was one of heartbreak. Yet she still wore your gift on her ankle and kept your keyboard beside her bed all while you couldn't even bear to hear someone say the word 'Indiana'. She had obviously handled this very differently from you.
But now, seeing her crying right in front of you, you feel so stupid. How could you have been so blind. Almost selfish. You've been going about this all wrong. You've been so guarded and unsure when really, Brittany's had these particular walls up this whole time. And these walls, these are ones you don't know. Almost invisible. Nearly undetectable. She has changed. So much so that you didn't even recognize it until now.
As much as that should scare you it doesn't. No, that's not right either. If anything, you want to learn more. You want to ask her everything and anything about the time you've spent apart.
How did she handle everything in the days, weeks, months after you left? You didn't even think to question her about her relationship with her parents until now. They were so important to her. As much as it pains you to think about them, you know they meant everything to her. Her whole life imploded because of you and you fucking left her there holding the pieces of a broken heart. Some hers, some yours. Who knows how many pieces you left behind and how many you took with you.
And yet even in the wake of your cowardice, she still somehow chose to direct her anger inward. It all starts to make sense now. Her confidence, her boldness. All of it was her version of distance. To simply probe or test, to see where your walls stood while still hiding behind her own. To see if there were any cracks, if any sections were already starting to crumble.
She needs to know that you've forgiven her. She's scared that you never fully will.
You want to scream. You want nothing more than to tell her that she's wrong. It's not all on her to fix this alone. You want to tell her that you can fix these broken pieces together.
As she cries quietly, LT nudges her from his spot beside her until she complies and moves her legs down, allowing him to perch on her lap. He starts purring once her hands run through his fur. A practiced dance between the two of them, you think.
"I'm sorry." You say again. You know it's not enough, it will never be enough, but it's all your brain allows right now.
"It's okay." She manages to mutter between shuddered breaths. Empty words; still grasping to the lie she's told herself over and over again.
"No, it's not." You shake your head. "Hey, look at me, Britt." You move slightly closer, trying to get her to look at you. You can't let her continue to think like this so you need her to believe you when you say it. Her soft whimpers continue but she eventually looks up. Her cheeks are as red as her eyes and you place a gentle hand on her shoulder, "I'm sorry I didn't stay." You breathe out but it catches, a tear escaping in its place, "I should've stayed while you figured it out and I should've trusted that you'd be okay. That we would be okay."
It's another break and as if by accident, a louder, unexpected sob rips through her. She tries to cover it by moving away but you're faster. The sound, heartbreakingly worse than the ones that day in your classroom, completely obliterates your fight or flight. Maybe you should've been prepared for it but it overwhelms you and in that moment she's already reached further and deeper than you had anticipated letting her. Just as easily, your resolve reconsiders its stance.
Ladders, bridges, planes, you think. Anything, anything that was created with the purpose to close distance will do.
Arms. Yours quickly wrap around her shoulders as they shake and she lets you. Your body now muffles the sounds of her breaking down and yet you still notice how she doesn't move to hold you back. Almost as if she's scared you'd pull away if she does and the thought cuts through you. Her knuckles turn white from gripping her own jeans and you just wish, more than anything, that she trusted you enough to let go completely.
"I'm so so sorry." You repeat into her hair, holding her there, trying to convey everything through touch. "I hate that I broke your heart. I hate that I hurt you."
It surprises you how long you hold her. Under different circumstances, maybe you would have found it in you to enjoy feeling her in your arms again. But not like this. Not when you've drudged up old emotions. Not when healing looks too much like breaking.
It's necessary, you want to tell her, our pieces need to be rearranged. We've been carrying them all wrong.
Somehow deep inside you knew that breaching this topic and finally apologizing for your part in all of this was going to end in her crying openly in your arms. Earlier, you were scared of what you might do once you're overwhelmed by the sight and sounds of her cries. You were so sure you'd have the urge to kiss her but that seems almost silly now.
It wouldn't have been fair to do something like that. A kiss would only taint an otherwise genuine apology. Especially if done only as an effort to merely comfort her. You know Brittany deserves more than that.
The sound of beeping fills the room and you sigh, reluctantly releasing your hold on her. She quickly runs her hands over her face and you wait until her eyes flutter towards yours. You offer her a gentle smile, a silent request asking if she's okay.
She takes a steadying breath and nods softly.
"I'll grab the muffins out of the oven." You stand and she nods again.
From the kitchen, you watch her collect herself before retreating to the bathroom in the hallway. Only when you hear the soft click of the door closing do you release a loud exhale.
"Fuck. Okay, Santana, just breathe." You mutter to yourself and blow out a raspberry breath. You busy your mind by focusing on removing the muffins from the oven and setting them onto a cooling rack.
It's not long after that Brittany returns, walking up to you and suddenly enveloping you in a hug. Her arms find their way under yours and her hands perch lightly on your shoulder blades. She waits, as she always did before, until your hands find her waist. You keep them there, not fully trusting yourself to wrap them completely around her again as if somehow this time it's different. Even though you had just wished for this contact, nothing could've prepared you for what it feels like being held in her arms again.
"Thank you, Santana." She mumbles into your neck and you tentatively breathe in her scent.
"We can keep talking about it if you want." You offer her, "Or if you need a break that's fine too."
Instead of responding she lets you go and you both take a few steps back. She hugged you. And earlier you held her. You can't ignore the fact that it was the first first time your bodies were pressed that close together again and although it was brief, it felt good. It felt right. You suddenly feel warmth spread across your cheeks, but you attribute that to the oven still being on.
"Oh shit," Your eyes widen and you move quickly to turn it off. She laughs lightly at that and your hand finds the back of your neck, embarrassed. Her lack of response to your earlier offer is enough of an answer in its own way. There's so much more left to talk about but you're both probably at your limit for today.
Brittany moves easily to inspect the muffins sitting on the counter and finally a smile appears. "Hey, these look pretty good."
"I'm so fucking excited." You beam, letting the heavy air lift. You don't even care that you're swearing and surprisingly, it seems as though she doesn't care either. That's new.
She only giggles at your antics and you close your eyes to take in the smell of fresh blueberry breakfast muffins.
"How did you ever survive without these?" She jokes.
"I actually tried to make them once." You confess and she looks at you as if she wasn't expecting you to reply with that. You've been surprising her a lot recently.
A small smile forms, "Really?"
You nod shyly, letting yourself laugh a little about it now, "It took me an entire day to get through the recipe I found online and by the end I was so upset and a complete mess. I ended up throwing them all out. It just wasn't the same."
She blushes, giggling easily at that before capturing your eyes again, "You know what they say, you have to make them with love, Santana. Or else they don't turn out as good."
You can't help but smile at her words as you grab a muffin and unravel the wrapper, holding it up to her as if to cheers, "Well, here's to hoping these are made with love, then."
It's a risky move on your part and you almost regret saying it until you see the pink spreading on her cheeks. She follows suit, grabbing one for herself and lightly taps yours. Her response so soft you almost miss it.
"Isn't it obvious?"
And the first bite nearly confirms it.