The first week of Santana's new school semester had gone surprisingly well. She was still adjusting to the heavier load of classes and the longer time on her own, apart from Brittany, but other than some anxiety in the mornings and feeling hypervigilant when having to walk to back to back classes alone, she had managed to get through with stress but no major incidents of panic. She had been using the techniques Kate was having her practice in therapy for anxiety often while alone at school, and so far, although it seemed somewhat weird to her at first, they were nevertheless working. She felt more independent, more functional, and she even found herself occasionally speaking up in some of her classes without having been directly addressed or called on.
Dancing with Brittany might have had some correlation to this; it certainly hadn't hurt. After her day of demonstrating with Brittany to her students, Santana began occasionally helping her with partner work when needed, willingly and without self-consciousness. She hadn't gone so far as to take any of Brittany's classes, but in between classes and sometimes before the studio closed, she danced with her alone fairly often, sometimes more seriously, sometimes in a light and silly manner, just for fun. She was rediscovering her own love for it, the pure escape and happiness it gave her, and for that, Santana was feeling just a little lighter.
Friday night, she had been a little grouchy and restless. Santana assumed it was the accumulated stress of her long week, not to mention the assignments she would need to tackle over the weekend. It hadn't helped that her stomach ached in a crampy, squeezing manner she was unaccustomed to feeling any time recently and which unsettled her. She figured she was responding to eating something in the day that she wasn't used to eating anymore- chicken, maybe? She hadn't been eating very much meat for a long time, and she had had some with Brittany for dinner.
She had grumbled and moped around and draped herself against Brittany, sulking, for most of the evening, then had a restless night when they went to bed. She just couldn't seem to settle down or get comfortable, even with Brittany's warm presence and embrace.
Eventually she got up and padded to the bathroom, scowling at her reflection in the mirror, though it was slightly blurry without her contacts in. Washing her face, Santana sat on the toilet to pee, still groggy and grumpy, as it was not yet even light outside.
When she went to wipe herself and saw the streaks of red on the toilet paper, Santana's heart skipped a beat, then began to thrum in erratic lack of rhythm as she had a stream of panicked thought. Was that blood? Why was she bleeding? Had she hurt herself? How? She hadn't even had sex last night, shit, she hadn't had sex since- well, since. Why was she bleeding, where had she hurt herself?
She stood up and looked between her legs frantically, searching for an injury on her inner thighs or otherwise, and when she saw the light streak of blood at the crotch of her panties, she realized. She wasn't hurt at all. After almost six months of skipping, Santana had started her period again.
Everything added up at once to her- the crankiness, the cramping that still squeezed her gut and groin, the blood. Her period, back after all that time. Santana had not weighed herself since leaving the loft- Brittany didn't own a scale, and she had purposely avoided using one at the school gym or infirmary. But she had spent enough weight-obsessed years as a teenager and in her early twenties to have a good estimate of how much she weighed currently by what she saw of herself and how her clothes fit. She was pretty sure she weighed somewhere between 104 and 107 pounds now, the approximate weight she had been when she started her period for the first time at age 13.
A wave of horrified anxiety rose through her chest and up her throat to choke her, and Santana fell back down on the toilet, pajama bottoms and underwear still around her ankles as she began to tremble, fighting back tears. She had her period again. That meant she had definitely gained weight, enough weight that her body had decided she was "officially a woman" again- the lamest fucking part of being a woman that had ever been put on her gender, in Santana's opinion, especially if the woman in question was a lesbian who never intended to conceive children heterosexually in the first place. She had gained enough weight to have her period, and to Santana, had most definitely meant she had gained too much weight. She was "normal" again. She was "healthy." And that was terrifying.
But worse than that was the mental image that had slammed into her mind as soon as she saw the blood on the toilet paper, the blood staining her clothing….of the last time she had seen blood down there, in an entirely different context. The last time, when she truly had been hurt. When she had bled when she peed for days after, even though she wasn't on her period at all. When she had ached all over and almost prayed to die. Santana remembered this and felt frozen with fear from it.
It wasn't the same; logically, she knew this. Emotionally, this felt not even a little bit different.
She remained hunched over on the toilet, trembling and swallowing repeatedly against threatening sobs, growing more agitated as her blood dripped from her sporadically. Why couldn't this just go away?
They'd slipped back into a routine of sorts with relative ease, both of them slowly adjusting to being back in the city and back at school and dance. Brittany kept a careful eye on Santana when they were together, curious how she'd handle the heavier class load she had that semester, wanting to make sure it didn't become too much too soon.
It seemed, however, that Santana was adjusting well to the new schedule, especially her writing classes, which Brittany loved to hear her talk about, finding that she got a childlike spark in her eye whenever she was talking about them. It was something Brittany loved to encourage and she asked about them as much as possible,
After their first dance, Brittany found that by the time her class funneled out of the room, Santana was already standing up, ready for their "private lesson" which was really just 20 minutes of uninterrupted time for them to dance around the studio together, which they sometimes did. Other times, the only thing they did was sway in one spot to a low song on the speaker, soaking up as much of the other as they could.
Brittany wasn't too worried when, at the end of long week, Santana seemed grumpy and maybe even a little bit sad. She was content to let her lay on her while they watched TV, playing with her hair while Santana sulked. She knew if something serious had happened in class, Brittany would've heard about it, and she knew Santana's moods changed like the weather - at times, all she really needed was down time with Brittany for a few hours and she'd go back to feeling okay. She'd brought Santana to bed with her and peppered her face with extra kisses, smoothing her hair and promising they could sleep in and watch a movie tomorrow, not sure how long Santana's sadness would linger. She felt Santana shift and roll beside her, changing from her front pressing against her to her back pressing against her a few times, and Brittany moved with her, adjusting to try and make Santana comfortable. Finally, when Santana seemed to still, they both drifted off to sleep.
When Brittany stirred later in the night, she reached for Santana, wanting to pull her against her own body. Her hand reached, but she came up empty, finding rolled up sheets and no Santana in bed with her. Rubbing her eyes at the realization, Brittany assumed Santana was just in the bathroom, glancing over to see light pooling from under the bathroom door. She waited sleepily for her return, dozing for a few minutes before stirring again, realizing Santana still hadn't returned to bed. Sitting up, she frowned, kicking the sheets off her legs and swinging her legs off the bed to stand, padding barefoot across the room to the bathroom.
After trying the handle and realizing it wasn't locked, Brittany pulled it open without hesitation, curious. They showered together and followed each other into the bathroom half the time, so Brittany didn't even think twice about it. Squinting in the light, Brittany's eyes fell on Santana, sitting on the toilet with her knees pinched together.
"San, what're you doing?" Brittany asked sleepily, "You've been in here forever."
Santana's head shot up as the door opened, her heart leaping with the brief scare. She hadn't heard Brittany approach and so startled at the movement of the door, her hands poised as though to fly up to defend herself. Seeing that it was Brittany and hearing her sleepy voice, she relaxed, but only marginally.
Still hunched over the on the toilet, she lowered her head, pressing her lips together tightly. It wasn't enough to continue to maintain emotional control though, and the tears that had been building in her eyes overflowed. Santana released a loud, broken breath as she stuttered with full drama in her tone.
"Brittanyyyyy! I'm bleedinggggg!"
There was no effort to explain that this was not in fact because she was injured or on the brink of death. To Santana, it felt like that was the case in the moment, logical or not.
Brittany was stunned at how quickly Santana broke at the sight of her, her glassy eyes spilling over the moment she focused on Brittany and realized who she was. Shocked, Brittany looked her over where she sat, pants and underwear pooled around her ankles. She looked fine, but she was wailing like it was the end of the world, even though they'd both been sleeping at hour ago.
Carefully, Brittany moved forward, tucking her wild sleep hair behind her ear, kneeling down in front of Santana gently, her hands on her bare knees, squeezing gently to get her attention.
"Shhh, Santana, it's okay." She hummed, rubbing her knees gently. "Tell me what happened, where are you bleeding?" After a beat she added. "Did you have a nightmare?"
She wasn't sure if Santana had somehow had a nightmare without waking Brittany up, but she seemed to be spiraling so fast that Brittany couldn't help but wonder if she was thinking about something that had happened in her dreams and not in reality.
Brittany was just not getting it. Not that Santana was doing a great job at explaining. She could barely even form thoughts, let alone coherent words; her mind was full of flashbulb flickers of memory, of harsh words and hands, torn clothes and skin, the smell of her own blood. She could feel Brittany's hands on her, stroking her skin, but it seemed more distant to her than her own thoughts, and her chest heaved as she continued to sob unabated.
"N-no," she sputtered, shaking her head, once she had belatedly registered Brittany's question. "It's, it's real. I'm REALLY BLEEDING!"
She gestured a shaky hand towards her clothes between her feet, where her underwear is mostly swallowed up in her pants and not visible. She can't stand to look again and gives another loud sob at the thought of the blood, shutting her eyes tightly.
"I'm bleeding," she whispered again, as though she hadn't already made that clear. "Brittany, I want it to go away."
Brittany stayed close, crouched in front of Santana as she sobbed openly, almost childlike, not even trying to stop herself or collect herself. While she was sleepy just a minute ago, now Brittany felt alert, jarred by the sound of Santana's cries and how upset she was. Blinking, Brittany rubbed her knees as Santana spoke, emphasizing to Brittany that it was real. Silently, Brittany scanned over Santana's bare arms and legs, checking for any cuts or blood, finding nothing on Santana's smooth, perfect skin.
"Okay, okay, I believe you," She promised when Santana insisted that she was bleeding. Following a shaky hand toward where Santana's bottoms were pooled at her feet, Brittany's eyebrows furrowed inquisitively.
"Open your legs a little Santana," She said, trying to see Santana's pants and underwear, despite the fact that Santana's knees and ankles were pushed together tightly. "Come on San," She coaxed, slipping one of her hands between Santana's knees to guide them apart just enough so that her feet separated, letting Brittany reach between her ankles.
She hooked her finger around Santana's underwear, pulling them up enough for her to see them, registering the unmistakable streaks against the cotton. She felt her body flood with relief, sighing gently.
"Santana, I think you have your period." She clarified, wanting to quell Santana's panic. Santana looked crestfallen about the fact that she was bleeding, but Brittany even felt a little happy- getting her period back was amazing news, meaning all the work they'd been putting in to try and get Santana to eat had been working.
She wanted to tell Santana that this was a good thing, but she knew Santana was far too upset to understand what she was saying right then. Instead, she sat up on her knees, cupping Santana's face in her hands and brushing the hot tears away with her thumbs.
"Santana you're fine, it's just your period and it's normal to bleed." Brittany reminded her out loud, sitting back on her heels before she reached for one of Santana's ankles, guiding her feet out of her pajamas and underwear, leaving her bare from the waist down.
"I'm going to get you new underwear, I'll be right back," She assured before standing and making her way into the bedroom, flicking the bedroom light on as she went. She deposited Santana's underwear in the hamper, pulling the drawer open to get a fresh pair of underwear before returning to the bathroom and kneeling back down in front of her.
"You're okay," She coaxed, slipping the underwear over one of Santana's feet and then the other, followed by her pajama bottoms.
Walking on her knees over to the sink, Brittany pulled open one of the drawers, hesitating for a moment. She knew, in the past, both of them wore tampons because it was easier, but now, she hesitated, knowing Santana may not like the idea of something inside her body, after everything. "Do you want a pad or a tampon?" Brittany wondered finally.
Santana resisted Brittany's hands trying to push her knees apart, making effort to keep them tight together to further close herself off. Her memory keeps flitting back to her own initial effort at fighting off rough hands, of her attempt to fend off before threats froze her into submission. She keeps her eyes shut as Brittany further investigates, but even without looking at her she hears the relief in her voice as Brittany tells her she has period.
Santana knows that. Mostly, anyway. But that doesn't make her feel any better, and it doesn't make the memories the sight of blood on her clothing has brought to the front of her mind. It doesn't feel to her the same as just a normal day of a normal woman getting her period, because to Santana it is none of those things.
She sniffles and continues to cry steadily, frustrated that she can't come up with words to explain any of this to Brittany so she can understand. As Brittany wipes her tears, then begins the routine tasks if retrieving her new underwear, Santana finally dares to open her eyes, now that the blood stained ones are gone. She is still shaking, her breathing unsteady, and when she tries again to explain to Brittany all that's rushing so strongly through her mind, she can't say it clearly.
"I don't...I d-d-don't like it. Brittany...I n-need it to stop."
When Brittany gets up to further help, pausing to ask her if she wants a tampon or pad, Santana's eyes grow wide, and several more tears overflow. The thought of using a tampon is horrific to her, given the flashes of memory already burned into her mind now. To be bleeding and to have to have something I side herself would be far more than she could handle now.
"No! N-n-no," she stuttered, trying desperately to make herself understood and letting out another frustrated sob when her words tripped over themselves. "No...tampon. N-not that. Please..."
Brittany startled at how upset Santana got at the question, reaching over to rest a hand on her thigh steadily. "Shhh, it's okay. You can wear a pad, I was just asking which you wanted," She soothed, rubbing her leg steadily with the hand she'd reached over while kneeling in front of the bathroom door, rooting around for a moment before coming up with a pad, grateful that she had one somewhere in there.
She walked on her knees back to kneeling in front of Santana, holding up the wrapped square for her to see. "You're okay." She repeated as she unwrapped it carefully. "It's not gonna feel any different than your underwear," Brittany promised, peeling off the backing and sticking it to the underwear she'd just slipped on Santana's ankles, careful with what she was doing.
Balling up the wrapped, she threw it in the trash beside her. She rubbed up Santana's calves with her hands, feeling her entire body tremble under her touch, her hands slow and gentle as she knelt in front of her.
"Okay," Brittany began, "I'm going to flush the toilet and then you're going to stand up and I'm going to pull your pants up." She instructed, not wanting to scare Santana when she reached around her to flush the toilet. She wasn't sure how much Santana was bleeding, she assumed it wasn't much at all, but she didn't want her to be able to see blood in the toilet, if there was any.
"Ready?" She asked, reaching behind Santana to flush the toilet before she stood up, pushing against Santana's thigh to stand.
Gently, she bent down, holding Santana by her elbows, guiding her shaking frame to stand up before she hooked her fingers around her underwear and pajama bottoms, bringing them both up together and settling them over Santana's hips. Once she had Santana dressed and standing, she wrapped her in her arms for a moment, letting her calm, still body absorb Santana's tremors, rubbing a hand up and down her bag as Santana sobbed into her pajama shirt.
"It's okay Babe," Brittany cooed, feeling her heart ache for Santana being so upset. Brittany wasn't sure what about the discovery of her period was so upsetting for Santana, but she wished she could take it away as the sound of Santana's sobs filled the small room.
She let them stand there for a moment so she could physically comfort Santana before guiding her to the sink, turning on the faucet and washing Santana's hands under the warm water with her own. When she turned the faucet off and dried their hands, she led Santana by the hand into the living room instead of the bedroom, knowing they were far, far from sleep with Santana this upset. She knew Santana's first day of her period was always the worst, and Santana usually got weepy and snappy and craved physical contact while Brittany just wanted to sleep the cramps away when she had hers. Santana's crying now, however, was far worse and more escalated than the way she used to get upset over a movie or just upset in general during her period, and Brittany sat on the couch, pulling Santana by the hand into her lap.
"I know you don't like it," Brittany hummed, running her hands over Santana's trembling body. "It'll stop soon, it doesn't look heavy, and it's the first one you've had in…awhile, right? It shouldn't be too bad." She promised, thinking back to what Santana said in the bathroom, begging for it to stop.
Leaning forward, she pressed her forehead to Santana's, their noses brushing, feeling Santana's hot, gasping breath on her face. "Are you in pain?" She wondered in a soft whisper, "Do you want Advil? Hot chocolate or tea?" Brittany offered, her hand stroking against the small of Santana's back lovingly, knowing she was okay but wanting to make the experience a little less upsetting for her.
Santana continued to sniffle and gulp, rubbing her hand over her face and scrubbing at her eyes as Brittany rubbed her leg to try to soothe her. Tearful still, she watched, feeling small and helpless, not at all in control, as Brittany stuck the pad to her underwear and then talked her through what she was going to do to help her. She didn't think she would be able to stand, but with Brittany's help she managed, albeit with considerable support.
Sinking into Brittany, still standing in the bathroom, Santana clutched her hard around the waist, pressing her face into Brittany's shoulder as she continued to shudder with the continued force of her crying. She was trying to calm down, to push back the tears and breathe more slowly, to be able to speak normally and drive back some of her panic. It isn't working. Even with Brittany rubbing her back and holding her close to her, telling her she's okay, Santana can't settle down.
Feeling shaky and sick with nausea both from her prolonged upset and the continued visuals rooted, unswayed, from her mind, she let Brittany wash her hands and lead her into the living room, stumbling almost blindly. Letting herself be pulled into Brittany's lap, she tried to look into her face, to see only Brittany's blue eyes, soft with love and concern. She reached for her hand and squeezed hard, shaking her head at Brittany's questions.
She knows Brittany is just trying to help her, that she's already walked her through far more than Santana was able to do on her own. But she still can't bring herself to tell her what's going on, why she's so upset. Instead she buries her face in Brittany's shoulder, her shoulders still quivering under Brittany's stroking hand. Right now, even tracing letters on Brittany's leg would require more spelling than Brittany could probably follow to understand.
Brittany rubbed her thumb over the back of Santana's hand as Santana clung to her, hushing her when she shook her head frantically at Brittany's questions. "Okay, okay," Brittany soothed, more so to let Santana hear her voice than anything else. As Santana buried her face into Brittany's shoulder, she rearranged Santanas's legs so that she was straddling Brittany's lap, every part of their bodies fitting together as Brittany held her there, smoothing her hand over Santana's hair.
"Just sit here with me," Brittany hushed, running her hand over Santana's hair a few times to calm her. She wasn't particularly what about having her period was upsetting Santana so much, but she knew, at some point, whether it was that night or down the line, Santana would tell her what she was feeling. It didn't bother her, knowing Santana was safe and where she wanted to be and not in enough pain from her period to request Advil or anything. And so she sat with her, knowing Santana just needed something to anchor herself to in that moment, holding her close against her body as her hand rubbed the back of her head lovingly.
"I know, Babe," Brittany hushed, even though she didn't know. She kept speaking, wanting Santana to be able to hear the quiet, comforting lull of her voice, even if she wasn't saying much at all. "Right now we're probably two of only a few people awake in the whole city," Brittany cooed, "And it's probably cold and windy and wet outside, but we're warm and safe in our little apartment right now, and we're surrounded by a million other warm and safe apartments that people are sleeping in all over the city, but right here, it's just us." She continued. "And tomorrow, we can cuddle in bed and sleep late and see if it snowed and walk to the little place on the corner to get coffee or hot chocolate. And then we can come back here and I'll hold you just like this." She babbled, trying to make their little life sound as small and cozy and safe as it could ever be while she held her, hating that Santana was so upset, knowing it was definitely hormones but also probably something else.
As Brittany gently adjusted Santana so their bodies were even more closely flush against each other, Santana melted into her, her body giving a last shiver before beginning to settle at last. Her thready heartbeat began to calm, slowly settling to a closer rhythm with Brittany's, and she tried to listen to Brittany's soothing voice, more to the sound of it than the words she was saying. Brittany's hand stroking her hair felt good, grounding her in a way she had been unable to ground herself before, and the full body contact was beginning to help too.
She cried more softly for another minute or two, continuing to give release to the strong, overwhelming emotions that had flooded through her. Gradually this stopped too until she was just breathing against Brittany, letting herself be held.
She had tenuous control now of her thoughts; by being so enveloped in Brittany's body, Brittany's smell, Brittany's voice and stroking hands, she had managed to overpower most of the dark memories with the present. Still, they lurked just past the surface awareness of her present environment, and it was Brittany rather than Santana that was holding them at bay.
She couldn't talk yet. Not without crying again, or sending herself into panic once more, or without stammering and making no sense. Brittany seemed okay with that; she was generally very patient anyway, whether or not she understood what was bothering Santana. All that ever mattered to her was that Santana needed her; the reason could come forward in its own time, if Santana wanted to say.
But as scary as it was to feel and think about how badly getting her period again was reminding Santana of the night of her rape, Santana did want Brittany to know. She knew she wasn't alone; Brittany was making that clear with every word and touch. But the moment she wasn't with Brittany, when she would have to go into a bathroom alone, it might hit her again, and worse. She couldn't be certain it wouldn't, and if Brittany didn't know, didn't understand, then Santana would be holding it inside. She would be handling it on her own, just as she had before Brittany came home from her tour, trapped in her own fear.
She didn't want that anymore. She wanted Brittany to know, no matter how hard it was to tell her. But how was she going to tell her when there was no way she could find the words?
Taking a long, shaky breath, she fumbled for Brittany's hand and traced letters slowly on her palm, trying to go slow enough for her to follow. "Write it."
Brittany held her there, the hips and ribs and shoulders all press together, Santana's head heavy on her shoulder, her hands warm and even as she stroked her head, mumbling quiet, loving things. She knew Santana just needed to get the emotions out and she let her, giving her gentle reminders that it was okay and she loved her and that she was safe. She was sorting through her own observations, glad that Santana had gained enough weight that her period had returned, but processing what could make her so upset beyond the revelation of the fact that she'd gained weight enough for it to return. Brittany knew that Santana probably hadn't had a period since she was attacked, assuming they were somehow related, but knowing there was something in Santana's mind that was making this upsetting and making her panicky.
She could feel her begin to wind down in her arms though, her body warm and heavy, still against Brittany. It comforted her slightly to know that Santana was where she wanted to be and was being given what she wanted right then, which was just being held and touched and loved by her, feeling it in the way Santana slowly reacted to her, gradually calming until Brittany could only hear her even, slightly tear clogged breaths.
She wasn't sure how long they sat like that, and for a little, she thought Santana might've been sleeping against her, exhausting herself from being so upset, but she felt her hand move, feeling for something. Brittany picked her head up from where it had been resting on Santana's, curious as Santana found her hand, catching on to what she was doing. It had been their little game since Brittany had gotten to New York, and Brittany had gotten pretty good at it, her eyes squinting a little as she followed the slow drag of Santana's finger on her palm.
"Wr….," Brittany narrated, making sure she had the letters correctly. "Oh." It clicked for her that Santana was asking her for something to write with, so she could write what she wanted to say, much like she did in therapy.
Brittany glanced around the room, but she already knew they at least didn't have anything in reaching distance that she could give to her, assuming that whatever she wanted to say was too long for Brittany's hand. Chewing on her lip, she had a though, brightening at the idea.
"You can have my phone to type," She explained, pulling Santana's hips into hers more. "I'm going to lift you up," Brittany added before she stood, her arms around Santana's back, her legs that were straddling her now wrapped around her waist. She grinned at how willingly Santana held onto her, knowing Santana was probably grateful for this new mode of transportation rather than having to separate her body from Brittany's.
Carrying her into the bedroom, Brittany put her on her side of the bed, depositing her there with a small "oof" before crawling up next to her, reaching to unplug her phone from the charger. She thumbed to the notes app and opened it before handing it to Santana with a comforting smile.
Santana gave a soft breath of relief when Brittany understood what she was wanting. She let Brittany lift her willingly, wrapping her arms around her shoulders for added support. Brittany sometimes carried her playfully, because she was strong enough to without effort, and Santana had always secretly loved it. As Brittany brought her into the bedroom and set her down, handing her the phone open to the notes app, Santana swallowed again, then moved closer to Brittany, pushing her back into her chest to have contact with her again as she tried to figure out what to say.
She started with typing the easy stuff, the stuff on surface that was bothersome to her, but not the true source of her fear.
"Now I have my period and it means I'm normal again and that's scary because what if I keep gaining weight and I don't work out like I used to in high school because no one is as insane as Sue and now I'm older so it will easier and I'm going to get fat. I don't want to eat anymore if I'm getting fat but I don't want to go back to the hospital."
That was the easy part, not that it had been easy for her to confess at all. Santana moved closer against Brittany, taking a shaky breath, and shut her eyes for a moment, trying to focus on Brittany's chest against her back, Brittany's arms, envisioning Brittany's face to place over her attacker's in her mind, to shut out him and push Brittany and her love for her over those thoughts. Finally her fingers moved, pecking out her thoughts shakily and with multiple typos.
"i know it's just my period but it feels scary. I haven't had it in forever and i don't like the blood, the blood is just like what happened before. I was hurt, it wouldn't stop hurting and nothing made it stop, everything made it worse and no one could help. There was blood down there like now and in my clothes and when I peed and I couldn't talk about it, I still can't talk about it. It hurt so much. I see him. I keep seeing him, his face is close to me and he hates me, I hear him. And I remember his hands on me and being hurt and I need it to go away. I try not to think about it all the time but when I saw the blood I couldn't stop and now it's going to be there for days and I don't think I can do this. I don't think I can do this."
She was crying again when she finally thrust the phone up for Brittany to take, blinded by her tears. She turned and hid her face against Brittany's chest, her body shuddering with the emotional effort of trying to convey her thoughts while fighting not to bring the images they invoked back.
Brittany adjusted easily in their bed so that when Santana pushed against her with a need for closeness, Brittany put her between her legs, Santana's back against her front with a leg on either side of her, one of her arms snaking comfortingly around Santana's waist, her palm resting steady and soft against her stomach. She let Santana take a few steadying breaths before she began, running her other hand down the length of Santana's thigh and back up, making sure she had as much contact as possible to keep her emotionally steady, aware that if it was something she didn't want to say aloud to her, it was coming from a deep, deep part of her.
As she began to type, Brittany calmly gathered her hair behind her shoulders so it didn't fall in her face, resting her chin on Santana's shoulder so they were cheek to cheek, her hand continuing to rub her leg soothingly. She was patient, hugging Santana close with her entire body, letting her fingers fumble over the keys as she tried to put into words the very things that had made her so upset that night to begin with.
"Hmm," Brittany made a soft, noncommittal noise in the back of her throat when Santana burrowed herself even closer, knowing she was taking a few moments to herself in the way that she shut her eyes and rested her head back against Brittany's chest. "Good job, Babe," Brittany mumbled into her cheek gently pressing a few kisses to her cheek and jaw, still tasting the salt from her tears until Santana began to type again, ready to continue.
She felt the change in Santana before she heard her crying, the feeling of her body tightening splintering Brittany's heart painfully, tightening her arm across her waist to make sure her body was flush with Brittany's back. When Santana finished, turning into Brittany's body, Brittany hushed her, wrapping an arm around her as she buried her face, reading her message quickly and silently.
Instantly, everything shifted into focus, as if Brittany hadn't been wearing glasses earlier and she'd just slid them on. It made sense, now, why Santana was babbling and incoherently upset when she'd first found her in the bathroom, unable to calm down or even verbalize why she was so upset about her period. Sighing, Brittany set her phone down so that she could comfort Santana with both hands, resting one hand on her back and the other on the back of her head.
"Shhhh, it's okay," She hushed, knowing Santana was overwhelmed with her confession. "You're not fat," Brittany pointed out, deciding to start with the easy stuff. "This is what your body is supposed to be doing, and it's good for you, and it's what needs to happen so you can be healthy here with me and not go in the hospital." She soothed, knowing this was a conversation that they could have more seriously in the morning, "But I know that's not why you're really upset."
Brittany reached between them gently, lifting Santana's chin until Santana was looking up at her, their torsos pressed together, tilting her own head down until she was forehead to forehead with Santana, wanting to see her and for Santana to be able to see her in return. "I know seeing blood in your underwear scared you," Brittany cooed, stroking her cheek soothingly. "I know once that blood in your underwear meant you were hurting, but you're not hurt right now," She promised, knowing there was little she could do to quell Santana's memories besides tell her small, comforting things that she already knew but needed to hear.
"You're bleeding because of your own body, because it's something your body does when you're healthy and when it's in control." She pointed out, "I had mine the other week, and all the other women in the world have it too," Brittany reminded, "What's happening to you now has nothing to do with when you were hurt," She hushed, knowing Santana equated the two in her mind. "I know it made you think about it and that's really, really scary, but you know I'm right here and I won't let anything- or anyone hurt you like that again," Brittany swore, trying to keep Santana's focus on her instead of all the scary things in her mind. "It'll only be a few days, and I'll help you," She leaned down and pressed a salty kiss to Santana's mouth, repeating herself. "I'll help you, and I think it's so scary because it's the first time, you were shocked." Brittany explained, wrapping her arms around Santana and letting her bury her face back against her shirt.
Santana continued to weep, letting out some of her emotions, her anxiety and fear coming out further as she let Brittany hold and comfort her. She tried to listen as Brittany told her she wasn't fat, sniffling and burying further into her, this time wanting to hold onto the feeling of being small and held and safe. She felt small in a different way now, in a way that was of someone loved and cherished, as when Brittany had carried her, rather than someone vulnerable.
When Brittany made her look at her, stroking her face, Santana tried, her dark eyes brimming with tears and shame. Brittany's words to her were comforting and true, giving her the reassurance that she was truly okay, that she was in fact in control, that she was safe and not alone, not even in her thoughts. As she continued to remind her that she was with her, that Santana was safe, and then punctuated this with a kiss, Santana tried to take it all in and truly accept. Saying it to Brittany had released some of the weight of her fear, and having Brittany reassure and emphasize with her had helped more.
As Brittany pulled her back in close, letting Santana hide again, Santana hugged her back tightly, taking a few sniffling breaths against her. Her voice cracking, she whispered, "I know. I just...I do know. Sometimes it feels really real. What I remembered."
Brittany held her gaze steady, Santana's warm, flushed skin pressing against her as she spoke quiet, loving words of reassurance to her, her hand threading through the hair at the base of Santana's skull. She let her cry and catch her breath in the embrace, reminding her gently that she couldn't be safer than she was in that moment, promising that Brittany wouldn't ever let anything hurt her again, because that was a promise she knew she'd do anything to keep, especially to Santana, to her Santana.
Her heart ached for her. Brittany had thought of all the times she'd found blood in her underwear in her life, and never once had she ever felt fear or upset or shame - it'd always been her period, and occasionally from sex, but never anything horrifying or traumatic. She wished she could take those feelings away from Santana, to glaze over the rough edges with love until Santana was smooth and calm and her memories were only good things. It was a futile wish, she knew, but that didn't stop her from wishing it.
"I know you know," Brittany soothed, "Those are real memories, of course they feel real. I'll help you while you have it, but I really, really don't think it'll last very long," She assured, rubbing her back. What Brittany had seen was light, barely there, and she couldn't imagine it coming back in full force at all. "We'll see how it goes," She promised easily, "If you really don't like it after a few months, we can talk to a doctor. There are some birth controls that make you not get it at all, remember how I hardly ever got it in high school?"
Granted, birth control was not something Santana really ever needed, but if seeing the blood was going to be that traumatic for her, Brittany knew it was an alternative. She left out how that would require actually seeing an OBGYN, figuring that was something they could figure out when they got there, if it ended up being unbearable for Santana. "I think you'll get used to it, once your mind associates it with not being something bad," She suggested, "But even still, lets just see how it goes."
Brittany spoke easily, maintaining that it wasn't the end of the world, even though Santana had been sobbing like it very much was the end of the world earlier. "We'll just work through the times when you remember," She promised, rubbing love into the hollow of Santana's neck with her thumb. "It didn't happen as long ago as it feels," She pointed out, because even to her, it felt like she'd been in New York forever, although realistically, it had only been a few months, and Santana's attack had only been shortly before that.
Santana gradually calmed back down again as Brittany rubbed her back and stroked her hair, continuing to comfort her. It took less time for her to quieten now, to hear and believe Brittany reassuring her she is safe, and she lets out a long sigh, going limp and heavy against her.
As Brittany continued to reassure her that having her period was normal and okay, that she would get through it and there were options not to go through it if she chose, Santana continued to calm. She listened to Brittany point out that the attack hadn't been so very long ago and murmured against her neck.
"Almost six months. That's a long time, isn't it? Sometimes it feels like forever. Sometimes it feels like yesterday."
"That is not a long time," Brittany said instantly. "And even when it feels like a long time or becomes a long time, some things still feel like yesterday sometimes and that's okay." She pointed out as Santana calmed against her body, solid and warm against her. "Like, when we went to New York for nationals, that feels like a million years ago, or sometimes when I think about being on Cheerios or all of living in the same town, that feels like yesterday and I feel really sad about it because now we're all over the place and not kids anymore, y'know?" She said, her hand skating down from Santana's neck to twirl the ends of her hair in her hand.
"So even when it feels far away or really close, all memories feel like that," She said, "And even if I feel sad about the fact that we're not in high school anymore and not doing fun things like going to practice or rehearsal, I just feel them. And you just feel them too." Brittany mumbled into her hair, wanting to validate Santana's hot and cold feelings about the assault and guide her away from using time as a mile marker for how she should feel.
"Plus, I don't think time exists in our hearts, men totally made that up like a hundred years ago or something." She giggled into her hair. "Because even though I hadn't seen you in so long, it felt like no time had passed and your body still knew what you wanted." Brittany said, referring to their first encounter, which felt like years ago, when Santana's knees had buckled and she'd curled her body against Brittany on Kurt and Rachel's couch and pressed her face into her neck like no time had passed at all. "And when we went home, it still felt like home, even though it had been a long time." She collectively referred to Brittany's house as home now, because essentially, that's what it was.
Santana considered what Brittany was saying, turning it over in her mind. It was true. Time seemed flexible and irrelevant depending on what was happening and what it was in reference to. It did seem alternately forever and not long ago at all when she was a kid in high school. The humiliation of her outing still could seem sharply in focus and raw, as could the rejection of her abuela, and it had been years. Yet the daily monotony of class and listening to Mr Shue in rehearsal (mostly trying not to) seemed distant.
Brittany had a point; what mattered about memory was not the time that passed between them but how they made her feel. The memory of her attack and its aftermath brought horror and fear, shame and pain, but as Brittany had pointed out, her mind and heart remembered Brittany's family as her home and reacted as such. And Brittany herself had been home to her- had been HERS- even when she had no logical reason to respond that way and every reason not to.
Lifting her face, regarding Brittany seriously through red eyes, Santana leaned in and kissed her gently, pulling away with one hand on her face. "You always have been a genius."
And to Santana she was, in the things that mattered, the things if emotion and heart. In those things she had always been far faster than Santana to catch on.
When Santana picked her head up, Brittany held her gaze evenly, her eyes studying every inch of Santana's face, the tear streaks gleaming slightly in the moonlight that came in from the window, dried in rivulets down Santana's slightly swollen and rosy cheeks. Her eyes themselves were red rimmed, evidence of the outburst and panic she'd just had, making Brittany's heart soften even more for her. She could see the hurt and fear lingering, like stains on Santana's own heart, swimming under the surface of her eyes. As Santana pressed their lips together, Brittany kissed her back firmly, wishing she could kiss away every bruise that the world had given her.
"Only when it comes to my favorite subject," Brittany mumbled against her mouth delicately, not missing a beat in her response. It was true, that Brittany was inherently more attuned to the people around her then most, but with Santana, it was an entirely different game, a completely different sense of knowing, a push and pull that Brittany felt deep in her bones, as if the core of her very being existed to know Santana. She never remembered getting to know her, or a time when they were anything less than what they were then. There were things about Santana she'd always known, known without ever having to be taught or told, in the very same way Santana understood her.
Her hands pressed to Santana's back, she kissed her again, soft and oozing with love, heady and delicate as she tilted her body forward, effectively pushing Santana backward until her back touched the mattress, setting on top of her as she kissed her. When she broke away, she propped herself up on her elbow, beside Santana's head.
"Does it hurt?" She asked, referring to her period, knowing Santana would answer her now, now that she could ask questions about her body in the present and didn't need to focus on more immediate needs, now that Santana was calm.
Santana smiled slightly, knowing what Brittany said was true. She had spent the first 14 years of her life often feeling frustrated and upset that she was so often misunderstood, that no one seemed to understand when she was being playful versus intentionally cruel, when she was sad versus when she was angry, or cared enough to try to see the difference. But then came Brittany, and she seemed to just know her, to get her in a way even Santana herself didn't always know herself, and Santana had found she understood Brittany too. As different as they were, they meshed in a way that was perfectly complementary and exactly what she needed.
Santana's mouth softened as Brittany kissed her again, her eyes closed, and she reached to take a grip of Brittany's hair, scratching her nails over her scalp lightly. She moaned softly as Brittany pushed her back, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and kissing her back with enthusiasm. She is breathless slightly but smiling when Brittany drew back, taking a moment to respond.
"Yeah a little. Kind of crampy. I forgot how that sucks."
Brittany grinned at Santana's moan, pressing her body against her as she felt the mattress dip under Santana at their shared weight, humming at the feeling of Santana's hands threading through her hair. As she pulled away, she pressed a few lingering kisses along Santana's jaw, her entire body warm and buzzing at their kisses, feeling like wherever her skin touched Santana's was sparkling and alive. That simple contact of their mouths had sent Brittany's head spinning, and she knew she could do that for hours without ever getting tired of it.
When Santana confessed that it did, Brittany pouted, sliding her body off of Santana's and resting beside her, letting her free hand trail up Santana's leg to scratch gently at her lower stomach, resting her hand low on her belly, a gesture that was so intimate but simultaneously innocent.
"I'm sorry," She said, keeping her hand there, as if her touch alone could calm the muscles under Santana's skin. "Do you want anything?" She asked, her eyes trained on Santana's face from where she was propped up just inches away from her.
It felt so reminiscent of the before time - before Brittany had ever broken Santana's heart, before she'd ever left for tour, before Santana had ever been attacked. When it was just the two of them in their apartment, when they both used their periods as ammo for extra cuddles and teased each other for being so emotional, even though they were both prone to crying at certain movies or romantic gestures, period or not. Giggling to herself, Brittany stroked the smooth skin under Santana's bellybutton with her thumb, asking "Do you remember that time I cried so hard watching Coco? Or when you cried when you asked for a banana and I had already peeled it halfway for you?" She giggled at the memory and the adorableness of it, leaning over the short distance to press a kiss to Santana's cheek.
Santana's head stays arched back briefly after Brittany had finished kissing her jaw, her pulse picking up, skin warm and flushed with the pleasure of her attentions. She wants to pull Brittany back to her, to make her kiss her again and again and again, but she just smiles, knowing that her feelings are probably clear in her expression.
As Brittany slides off her, she mumbles a whiny protest and pulls at her, but quiets when Brittany doesn't move entirely away and touches her lower abdomen. Her hand is warm and feels calming to her, and Santana puts her own slightly smaller hand over it, pressing it down lightly against her skin.
"Mm," she thought about Brittany's question, responding almost shyly. "Back rub?" She blushed a little and ducked her head as she added, "It felt nice when you were playing with my hair too."
She squirmed, ticklish, as Brittany reminded her of their period crying episodes, pouting. "But it was so sweet that you did that. You just knew and it was like magic. You were magic, like all the Disney princess people. Who wouldn't be overcome?"
Brittany giggled at Santana's little whine, finding it adorable, even though she knew Santana was serious, her body still pressed against her side even though she wasn't laying directly on top of her. She tangled their feet and ankles together where she lay, all parts of their bodies still touching.
At Santana's shy blush, Brittany grinned, leaning in to press a few more kisses to her cheek before she rolled over onto her back, beckoning to Santana with her hands and giving her an encouraging, "Come here, Babe." Pulling Santana on top of her torso, she shifted around until they were both comfortable, reaching down by her leg and pulling the blanket over the both of them and then sitting up just a little to click off the lamp. She had no idea what time it was at that point, but if she had to guess, they were nearing dawn, and if it was the summer, it would probably already be slightly light in the sky.
"Go to sleep, San." Brittany instructed, sliding her hands under the blanket to grasp the hem of Santana's shirt, pulling it all the way up to her shoulder blades so that her back was bare, Brittany always preferring to touch Santana's skin, knowing Santana was the same. Her hands fell into an easy rhythm, rubbing Santana's back in long, slow strokes, applying enough pressure to gently massage her back with the heels of her palms, every so often reaching up to smooth Santana's hair down her back, twirling a few strands through her fingertips as she went. Santana's body was solid and heavy against her, but she knew the panic and upset of getting her period was still fresh in her mind, wanting Santana to at least be able to rest if she couldn't fall asleep without the memories being too fresh in her mind.
Santana shifts her feet slightly as Brittany tangled them with hers, lightly rubbing her toe against Brittany's inner ankle. She flushed further, her smile growing as Brittany kissed her cheek, knowing that the other woman could likely see her embarrassment but not caring. Only with Brittany could she openly ask for something she wanted, something so vulnerable and soft, without feeling shamed by it in return.
She let Brittany settle her into place over her, adjusting her own body until she is comfortable resting chest to chest, stomach to stomach, thigh to thigh against Brittany, her breathing settling into rhythm with hers. Santana rested her head against Brittany's shoulder, her body growing relaxed and loose as Brittany's hands dug into the muscles of her lower back. With several murmuring noises of approval and enjoyment, she closed her eyes, further soothed by Brittany's hand occasionally stroking through her hair.
She is focused now on only Brittany, on being tangled up in her, in feeling and smelling and hearing everything of her. She could still taste her lips, if she tried to. With all these senses caught in Brittany, and all Brittany's attention focused on her, the last remaining sense of sight blocked off with her closed eyes, Santana began to drift off into sleep.
